#please listen to the mechanisms they’re fucking brilliant

[driedlillies]

The tim goes crazy part of Gunpowder Tim vs. The Moon Kaiser is kind of how I imagine the Uchiha feel after awakening their Sharingan while still on a battlefield. I mean there’s also a lot of grief and sadness but I think fury can overwhelm it at first especially if they’re in a situation that raises their adrenaline levels, for example being in a life or death scenario

[wafflerageface]

Top 5: Favorite Durgetash headcanons

Like my personal headcanons or ones I’ve seen?

Personal headcanons:

1. Durgetash were head over heels in love with each other, even if they expressed love in ways that seemed fucked up to everyone else. They were two incredibly lonely people that just clicked in all the right ways to make each other feel like at least one person out there cared about them, and they did.

2. Enver Gortash is autistic/ADHD and Durge was his favourite person to info dump on. I mean look at him. My wife is autistic and they have very similar mannerism and ways of thinking. (In the logical sense anyway my wife hasn’t killed anyone) Especially with how his parents described how brilliant he was even as a child, I can just imagine child Enver coming off as annoying and needy to everyone around him because he wanted to talk about his inventions and no one cared to listen. Durge, on the other hand, grew up in a temple where they were expected to behave a certain way and was essentially treated as a puppet, even if they could’ve called the shots how they wanted to. I can’t imagine being a child taken into a murder cult and feeling anything but fear, even if you don’t need to be afraid. Durge knew nothing but blood and death for years, and along comes this funky little guy that wants to rant for hours about the kind of metal he wants to build his steel watch out of?? Yeah. They loved that shit.

3. Enver is a pansexual monster fucker that will love your Durge no matter what. This man has been so lonely for so long that I genuinely think he doesn’t care what package the love comes in so long as he isn’t being used anymore. You’re a Dragonborn? Cool he can work with that. A tiefling? Excellent he’s gonna use those horns as handlebars. A cute half-elf that has a surprising appetite for blood? Absolutely and can he join the next blood bath please?? He loves seeing you work

4. Durge did not want to be Bhaal’s scion. I know a lot of people don’t like how the Durge opening makes it seem like they’re trying to “erase” that Durge was evil, but I view it more as perhaps Durge was never willing. Just because you’re fathered by a murder god doesn’t make you a murderer, and amnesia doesn’t really change who a person is, they just forget. Your brain literally just won’t let you recall memories. Now personally, I’m all for if you think your Durge hates everything about being the Chosen, or (like for my Durge) you think they just hated not being in control of themselves or allowed to kill as they please. Both are great mechanics for a well-rounded character, but I really think either way, Durge hated being what their father made them into, and would have jumped the moment they could escape. The prayer of forgiveness? A classic here’s my fake apology abusive parent so I can spare myself more abuse.

5. Enver whored himself out as a young man to get lots of power and money and he hated every second of it. We know it’s canon that he slept around a lot before the present day setting of the game, but I don’t think he ever enjoyed it. Not really. He grew up in the HoH where he was beaten and abused and nearly tortured to death on many occasions. He finally escapes with nothing to his name and once again he’s at the mercy of whoever he can convince to give him food, shelter, money, etc for the price of his body. This man absolutely has two wolves inside of him and one is a god complex and the other is an ego so crippled and fragile it’s a wonder he ever comes out of the house. When he meets Durge, he’s willing to manipulate them however he must to secure their alliance. He’s done it before, he’ll do it again. I think he’s so very surprised when Durge catches feelings back, when they go out of their way to take care of him, compliment him, even if it’s in their own fucked up fashion. I think the real sticking point for him would be when he and Durge are attending some high society to do together and they run into an old fling. Enver being upset and uncomfortable enough that they leave early and he tells Durge everything. The next day, and the following weeks, he finds severed hands, fingers, bloodied jewellery, all placed at his desk or beside his bed and he can’t help but smile. Durge bringing him pieces of their kills like a cat is so endearing to him.

I’ve got so many more but I think those are my favourite.

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 06

Pairings: Sirius Black x [F]Reader, Remus Lupin x [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors, music snob!Remus,  Author’s notes: song used: Come Together by The Beatles

BTW: I always try to use little to no physical descriptions for the reader insert but I did add that the reader has some sort of hair. I didn't mention hair texture or length (Sorry if ur bald). My taller readers, I only mentioned that you were shorter than Remus (no height was given)

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 6: ABBA vs. The Beatles 

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

“Merlin’s beard! Binns is a sadist; torturing students must be his only pastime,” James yawned, taking his glasses off to rub his eyes.

Nothing could ever compare to the History of Magic. Today, lessons were dreadful and muddy. Professor Binns’ monotone voice filtered throughout the class, rambling on and on about various dates in history. Hardly anyone paid attention before he started calling on students. Annoyed, Binns would continue to reiterate his inquiry until the student(s) got the correct answer, no matter how long it took.

A sadist indeed.

Although Binns wasn’t the sole reason why the class was pathetic, but rather the lack of any practical work was simply a joke. The class only reminded Y/N of her short time in public school. Geometry? Utterly useless for any daily life interactions. To make matters worse, Binns surprised the class with a pop-quiz and two chapters of reading. Luckily, he had an ounce of mercy in his ghostly body and dismissed the class early for lunch.

James continued, “I would rather fight a dragon than — Woah! Your hair! “

She glanced to look at herself through the reflection in James’ glasses. Her hair, which originally was emerald green, was now turning into a golden yellow. The different colours clashed together boldly.

“You look like the banner for the Holyhead Harpies,” Peter said, striding up to James’ side.

“The Holyhead Harpies,” James said dreamily, “They’re probably one of my favourite teams.

Remus, who had been trailing behind Peter jumps in, “You only like them because they’re all women, you wanker.” He turns to Peter, his hand shooting up to the side of his head, massaging small circles into his temples, “Why’d you get him going?”

James became insufferable whenever someone or something mentioned Quidditch. Not only would he boast about his abilities as a Chaser, but he seemingly was a never-ending encyclopedia about Quidditch. It only worsened as November neared, the start of the new Quidditch season was approaching.

One time Y/N found herself stuck listening to him babble about Ireland winning the world cup for about thirty minutes. She didn’t have the heart to stop him, though. Nobody listened to his rants and he could hardly contain his excitement. How could she tell him she wasn’t interested?    

A monstrous smirk etched its way onto his face, “Caught me.”

“Be anymore of a predator would ya, Prongs?”

“Hey! That’s not the only reason why I like them. Did you forget their victory in 1953 against the Heidelberg Harriers? Their strategy was blood-fucking-brilliant. They’re legendary! My father was there to see it in person. Lucky bastard. He told me…”

His voice fades into the background as Y/N catches Remus’ eyes. A glint of mischief shined through them before he forced a fake pitiful smile. He mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to her before looping his arm around Peter’s shoulder, discreetly leaving James’ side and out of the classroom.

That sly, slippery bastard.  

"— and did I mention that their seeker was one of the most sought out —”

“Wait, James.”

He abruptly pauses, waiting patiently for her to continue. She leads them out into the corridor and towards the great hall. “Sorry, didn’t mean to cut you off like that, but when is my hair going back to normal?”

Y/N instantly regretted mentioning her hair. There was no trace of a smile on James. His shoulders slumped a bit and his walking even staggered. “Godric, I know, I know and I’m sorry. I thought it would have returned back to normal by now. I’ve been creating reversal spells — even started asking Moony to help.”

“Moony?”

“Remus.”

“Another one of your nicknames?”

“It’s not a nickname! It’s a brotherhood — a pack!”

“Oh, sorry Prongs,” she drawled, a sarcastic smile on her face, “If I didn’t know you I would assume you were an asshole.”

“What? How?!”

“You go around calling yourself a marauder, the king of Quidditch and now Prongs. Seems pretty assholely.”

James’ mouth opens before closing again, repeating the process several times.

“Plus, you pull silly pranks every day.”

He chuckles, “Oi! You helped us with that itching idea!”

Her eyebrows raised in acknowledgement, “Touché.”

To this, James shakes his head, directing the conversation back to the Holyhead Harpies. Inwardly, Y/N wanted to whack him with a broomstick.

They were among the first students to reach the Great Hall, aside from students who had a free or were excused early by Professor Binns. None of the girls were there yet. Unfortunately, Marlene was held back by Binns, so Y/N was left to sit beside James who sat opposite to Remus, Peter and Sirius.

She had been trying her best to avoid Sirius whenever she could. It was clear he didn’t like her. He never laughed whenever she made a joke, he hardly noticed her, he never praised her, even if she tried to compliment him. He was just rude for no apparent reason. The rest of the marauders and girls knew this, although they preferred not to comment about the obvious, strained relationship (which they didn’t even know the reason for. Granted, Y/N wasn't quite sure herself. Was it the rejection, he just didn't like her or is just an ass?).

Although, ignoring and avoiding him proved to be extremely challenging. Y/N was glued to Lily’s hip ever since the Sorting Ceremony. It also didn’t help that if you were with one marauder, another one was sure to follow. She and James started to spend more time with each other, and by extension, she was obligated to be around at least one other marauder. With the addition of study sessions with Remus, it was inevitable.

Surprisingly, Sirius hadn’t made any snarky remarks, excluding dirty looks, he was being… nice — nicer to her. The action was a stark contrast from his previous behaviour and she speculated a few reasons why:

Most likely, James or Lily, she assumed the former, said something to him. Since his little spat with James at breakfast a few weeks ago, Sirius was tight-lipped ever since.

Maybe he was done being a prick, deciding to stop by himself after realizing he was a prick.

Went through something personal, it stopped, and his behaviour improved.

Minutes after the bell rang, students began to trickle in for lunch. The comfortable chatter rose as Y/N finished eating an apple. Everyone seemed pleased when James’ Quidditch lecture was interrupted as hundreds of owls streamed in, packages and letters dropping into the laps of students. She hadn’t expected anything considering her owl, Celeste, didn’t drop anything off since the first week of October. However, today she fluttered down between the bread and fruit bowls, dropping off several letters and a small parcel onto Y/N’s plate, pecking at the bread crumbs on the table. She tore the letter open, inside it said:

Dear Y/N,  

Are you still having a hard time with Charms? If so, perhaps I find some textbooks and send them over.  

Don’t slack off this year. Send me a letter whenever you have the chance. (Make sure to tell Celeste to be quieter next time. You know I can, and never will get used to the owls.)  

Mom  

Her mother finally wrote to her. A sense of joy flooded her body as she placed the letter back down on the oak table. A part of her wondered if Celeste was dropping off her letters to the wrong house, the one back in Toronto as her mother never wrote back. She opened the next letter, immediately recognizing the messy scrawl:

October 19, 1975  

Y/N! I thought you replaced me with one of your brits, but a false alarm, your letters just take a while to arrive. Must be tiring for Celeste to travel to and from Scotland then America and back. You know, whenever people see her fly in, they still recognize her.  

Are you doing anything for Halloween? We’re throwing another dance. Going to be alone this year now that I can’t force you to come. I guess I’ll just watch half the school dry hump each other while I smuggle in firewhiskey.

How’s it going over there? I heard from a few students, even read in the papers about the war. It’s getting pretty crazy over here. Teachers have been meeting and trying to prevent students and parents from losing their shit. My mom has been worried too, writing to me like a lunatic and I’m not even in the UK. The MACUSA have been keeping quiet but they were caught having meetings with counsellors from the Ministry of Magic. Even heard that Jenkins is stepping down. If it keeps getting out of hand here, I can’t imagine what it must be like at Hogwarts. I truly thought the war was dying down, I was wrong. Keep your wand close. Surely, you’ll get away with a hex or two.

Until next time

Matthew G.  

So engrossed in her new environment, her old life slipped to the back of her mind. There was a detachment from her reality compared to the one at home. A pang of guilt hit her, swallowing her up from the inside out until another pang hit, loneliness. If she easily forgot everyone, would anyone remember her? None of her old friends, apart from Matthew, had made a move to contact her since she left.

Often thinking about writing them first, she had to remind herself if they wanted to, they would. Especially with the knowledge that people still recognized Celeste.

Was she forgettable and if so, was it karma for forgetting too?

It put a mechanical vice grip on her heart, applying just enough pressure to be a constant reminder. With every beat, it tightened more and more.

Looking around the table, she saw her peers huddle in groups, familiar laughter ringing throughout. So noisy, so taunting. She may have been friends with Lily, Dorcas, James or even Marlene, but they had their own friends. Friendships that had years to develop before she came. She had only known them for less than two months.

Forgettable.

How hilarious, she thought.

“Hey,” a gentle voice cooed into her ear, “Are you okay?”

She hummed back absentmindedly.

James wore a concerned expression, his eyes knitted together, one raised higher than the other like it always does when he was worried. The look he shot her suggested he wasn’t convinced, although he didn’t press; instead opting to stir the conversation. “So, who wrote to you?”

“A friend and my mom —”

A snort so loud that it caused the rest of the marauders, random onlookers and even Lily (who had a look of pure disgust on her face) turned towards them. “What did you say?”

“I got a few letters?”

“No!” He bellowed, “Who sent you them?”

“My friend and my mom —”

Nearly choking on his sandwich, James clutched his stomach laughing. Laughing so hard he has to grip the table to prevent falling off the hall bench. "Haha! Mom?! MOM?” He mocked in a poor American accent, “What the fuck is mom? It’s MUM. Bollocks!”

“We say vitamin.”

“It’s VIT-A-MIN! Who says VIGHT-A-MIN?” Without a pause, James presses his entire body onto her shoulder, smushing her before grabbing the letter her mother sent her. His eyes scanned across the pages before hitting a certain word. “Back home? Maple trees? Where did you use to live exactly?”

“Canada.”

“Canada?! You don’t mean those snowy gits?” At this, Peter and Remus snort under their breaths. Even Lily had to force down a smile.

Staring deadpanned at him, in an unamused voice, “Really?”

“You are a bundle of surprises! I thought you lived… I’m not sure. I assumed somewhere like New Hork.”

“York,” Lily corrects.

“Tomato, tomato,” he jokes, playfully batting his eyes at Lily before biting into his sandwich, “You do live in London, right?”

“Right.”

James takes a moment, letting the conversation die down before he quickly glances at Y/N again. An undecipherable expression crosses his face before it’s promptly replaced with elation, “I take back anything negative I’ve said about Canada. They have an amazing Quidditch rooster. Have you gone to any of their games?”

A low grumble of sighs follows at the mention of Quidditch from James. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus shake his head and sighed dejectedly.

“Nah, I’m a New-Maj, remember? My mom — “

“Mum —”

“ — sorry, Mum — hardly understands the wizarding world, let alone what Quidditch is.”

His eyes were wide, whimsical, as a hand flew to his chest dramatically, “Rubbish! Bloody ridiculous! You’ve never seen a real Quidditch game? One day, I swear I’ll bring you to one! Or you can bring me to Canada one day and we can watch a home game!”

As James continued to rant, Y/N’s mind slowly drifted back to the bitterness in her chest. Trying to distract herself, she borrowed Lily’s quill and a few sheets of parchment, scribbling down letters in response.

Mom,  

I’m fine with Charms, you don’t need to send anything. And don’t worry, I’ve been studying for my OWLs.  

Love you, write soon.

The next letter was addressed to Matthew:

Matty Matt,

Of course, I didn’t replace you… yet. 

Another dance? You would think the students’ protest last year would have influenced the professors this time. I guess it’s time for you to get wasted. I didn’t tell you last time but I think I’m going to a party. A friend of mine is throwing it and I know he’s going to force me to come no matter what. He briefly mentioned costumes and drinks. Plus, there’s going to be some kind of prank that I may or may have not been a part of? Sounds cool right?  

Yeah, I’d say it’s been bad up here. I don’t know much about what's going on outside of school, though. The professors are hiding it well. I didn’t even hear about Jenkins stepping down. Keep me updated.  

Until next time  

She sealed the letters before sending Celeste off again, “Be quieter when you drop off the letters, yeah?”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

It must be her lucky day.

The ringing of the bell went off, signalling the end of class. Professor Flitwick asked the students to stay behind so he could hand out quizzes the students completed on Monday in preparation for their upcoming test on Growth and Reductor charms the following Tuesday.

It was never a good sign when a professor flips your test over to prevent other students from seeing their mark. Flipping it over at a downwards angle, Flitwick handed Y/N her quiz.

Turning it over nervously, a tight coil formed in the pit of her stomach. A large P was plastered on the top right corner in bold red ink. She studied hard for this too. Angrily, she shoved her work into her bag and left the class. This was the third poor she'd gotten in a row. She should have told her mother she needed those Charm books.

“I swear I’m going mad! Her brother is a complete cow! He even — are you listening?”

She looks at the girl beside her, Marlene. Her glossed over, doe eyes must have served as an answer before the blonde shook her head.

“Sorry, distracted,” she mumbles, before forcing out a fake-happy tone, “Continue your story! I wanna hear!”

“Hey,” Marlene says in a softer voice, “If something’s bothering you, you can talk about it.”

“No, it’s okay,” she replies instinctively. She felt bad spacing out during Marlene’s story but her mind was running through and under hoops. The last thing any fifth year student needed was to fall behind in their classes, let alone feeling like nobody cared about them.

At that moment, she wished she was wrapped away in red and gold blankets to wallow in her self-pity party, away from prying eyes. She could feel the burning sensations of tears building up.

Dammit.

Y/N looked out the window to her left. The sky was melting with the warm hues of reds and yellows while the other half was being slowly engulfed into a cloak of twilight. Even from here, she could feel the cool air seeping in from the windows making her tug on the sleeves of her robes.

She continued, “I’m just tired — been a long day. I’m going to take a nap before dinner. See you.”

Judging by the look on Marlene and Lily’s face, guilt riddles her body. They both look sympathetic. The pity only made Y/N feel disgusting. In all honesty, Y/N will care later. Right now wasn’t the time and she desperately needed some shut-eye.

Before she left the room, she overheard them talking.

“What’s up with her?”

“Dunno.”

Great.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

Sleep did little to ease her thoughts.

The same uneasiness she felt on the train ride to Hogwarts settled deep into her bones again. She thought she was past this. The worrying about friends, missing home, feeling alone, failing class, stressing about her future. The rational part of her brain knew it was just one silly quiz (and old shitty friends), but knowing herself, if she were to continue to have this mindset, she would only fail in the end.

Dinner ended and Y/N belligerently climbed up the stairs towards the library to attend today’s study session. The Charms quiz threw her into a loop and it was better not to dwell on it, opting to rather use her time for something useful.

Her marks improved significantly since she attended her first session two weeks ago. The last couple of assignments and quizzes she handed in that she worked on during the groups were some of her best work, ever. Additionally, her ability to retain information was improving at astonishing rates and she found herself participating in lessons more often. Unfortunately, she started to doubt her abilities again.

There weren’t as many students as usual. Perhaps it was because of the Quidditch meeting for all teams tonight, or because nobody wanted to spend their time in a library Friday night. She assumed it was the latter.

Although, the same student with black hair from Slytherin was there; tucked away in his usual corner. He was always there. Whether it was the study sessions, another OWL or NEWT student or he simply just enjoyed the library, Y/N could always rely on him sitting there in his little nook.

In the far back, surrounded by tall bookshelves sat Remus. Another student, a first or second year, judging by their height, seemed to be asking him a question, rapidly writing down something on a piece of parchment whilst they walked away. Remus leaned back in the brown chair, his right leg was folded over the other as he stretched.

She spent over twelve hours minimum with Remus directly since the first session, minus the time he was around James and the girls. Perhaps she only started to notice afterwards but she swore Remus wasn’t around this much before. Now, he was everywhere.

In the past couple of weeks she’d gotten to know him, she made a mental list in her head of him:

1. Remus loves sweaters. They weren’t flashy, seemingly preferring to wear ones with small designs, stripes or a solid colour. He wore green the most. He also wore cardigans. Two, in particular, he wore the most; one was white and the other was a muted brown. They were big and hung off his loose frame, the pockets were often stuffed with books, rumpled parchment and his wand.

2. He’s a coffee addict. He drank it in the morning, the afternoon, at the study session and sometimes with meals at dinner. He loved to dump pounds of sugar, so if he only drank black coffee, it usually meant he was in a bad mood. James even joked that he became Sirius whenever he drank black coffee, because haha! Get it? It’s BLACK coffee!

3. He frequented the library whenever he wasn’t with the rest of the marauders. He enjoyed poetry, wrote post-it notes after post-it notes to annotate his favourite parts. He even slept there from time to time, not without having to persuade Pince to not give him detention.

As if Remus magically sensed her, he took a large inhale before he stopped stretching, opening his eyes to look at her. A small smile was plastered on each other’s faces. He stuck up a few fingers to wave at her, motioning her to come over.

“Hi Y/N. I thought you didn’t come on Fridays?”

“I don’t but I have a test, Charms, Tuesday.”

“Oh, well I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks for the offer, Professor Lupin, but just being down here will help me focus.”

A scarlet blush settled on his face at the mention of his tutoring. “Well come sit with me then.”

Pushing the chair out of the way, she sat down beside him, pulling out her cassette player and earbuds along with her notes. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus staring at the player curiously.

“Do you want to listen?”

“If you don't mind. I didn’t know you could use these here.” Picking it up, he turned the rectangular device.

“If record players work here, why not this?”

She hands him an earbud, alongside a small collection of other tapes she had on hand.

“Choose whatever you want to listen to.”

Without much thought, he pressed the play button. The upbeat tune of Waterloo by ABBA trickled into their ears. Y/N bobbed her head up and down before the song was suddenly stopped.

A sour grimace sat on Remus’ face before their eyes met, his nose upturned slightly.

“Why’d you stop it?”

“I hate ABBA.”

“What!?”

“I just don’t like their cheesy disco-pop-esk sound. They sound generic and random words are thrown in when they don’t add to the song.”

“Jeez— never met anyone who hated them that much.”

A ghost of a smile appeared before he flicked through her collection of tapes. He picked up Abbey Road by The Beatles. Opening the player up, he slid out Waterloo. With a click and the press of a button, Come Together played.

“So you hate ABBA but not The Beatles? Benny and Bjorn said they were influenced by them!”

“Keyword: Influenced; which is just another word for a shitty knock-off version.”  

4. Remus Lupin is apparently a music snob.

“Well, I think both are good.”

“Respectfully, I disagree with you.”

“Whatever you say, professor.”  

"I've been thinking a bit, why did you come to Hogwarts? Why not just stay at your old school?"

The sudden switch of topics threw her into a loop. “Wasn’t by choice. My mom’s a doctor and got a position here. It was too good to turn down. But it’s not bad. There’s less wizarding laws.”

He nods his head, "I'm assuming you have dual citizenship?"

"Mhm."

About a half an hour passed as she sighed for the umpteenth time before putting down her quill. Her chair scraped back noisily as Y/N’s hand balled up into a tight fist, feeling her fingernails bite into her palm. She’d been flicking through her notes, the words all blended.

At this rate, if History of Magic didn’t exist, Charms would surely be her least favourite class.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?”

She was at a loss, this was the third time Remus had offered to help and he was persistent. She felt horrible that she was taking up his time to help her on a stupid Charms test.

He continued, “If you think bothering me is an issue, it’s not. I run the sessions on Friday. It’s my job.”

“Fine, but there has to be something I can do in return.”

“Hmm,” Remus pondered for a second, “How about this, I tutor you in Charms and in return you give me your Potions notes? I'm dreadful at it.”

“Deal.”

“Great. Before we start, is there anything in particular that you have questions on?”

Silently tapping on the quiz she received today, Remus snatched it and quickly scanned over her answers and Professor Flitwick’s notes.

“I see what happened. You know, the curriculum taught at Ilvermorny is different. That’s probably why you can’t understand some of this shit.” He cleared his throat, “So as we know, the growth charm increases the size of your intended target…”

His voice, like a light switch, changed instantly. Instead of his softer deep, raspier voice, it became commanding and steady. He never stumbled over his words and articulated his points elegantly. She found herself enraptured by him, understanding why he was in charge of the study groups.

Eventually, Remus takes a pause, “Does that make sense?”

“Yes. You know, you’re really good at this. No matter how much I asked Flitwick or even Lily I could never get it.”

A large blush bloomed on the apples of his cheeks before he shyly rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes. “I’m not that good.”

“No time for modesty, Professor Lupin!”

“Okay, okay! So here, do you see what went wrong? There would be a reaction with those two spells if —”

A boy, small, most likely a second year, stood at the foot of the shared table holding a large red and gold book. His hair, dark ginger, similar to Lily’s, was cut short. He fiddled with his fingers as he continued to stare at the two.

“... Um, hi. You're Remus — right?”

“Yup. Did you need help with something?”

“Yes! I’m having trouble with the Transfiguration spell, beetle into button.”

A look of understanding passed through his face before Remus turns to look at her, “Duty calls. It’ll be quick.”

“Of course, take your time.”

It was not quick. Understandably, very few were successful at the ginger’s age to perform the spell, but thirty minutes passed and the second year still didn’t understand the basic concepts. No matter how many times Remus had reiterated his point differently, the boy couldn’t retain it.

“I just don’t get it.”

“You learned this last year, it's a quick revision. I’m not sure what part you’re talking about. Look, do not wiggle or twirl your wand left, direct it towards the right. You have to picture the spell in your head before saying the incantation.”

He guided the boy's hand steadily before performing the spell himself.

“I don’t understand!” The boy whined.

He sighed, “Then we keep trying —”

“It’s too hard. Why are they teaching this crap anyway?”

“Could you stop complaining?” He snapped, closing his eyes before he realized what he’d just done. “I’m sorry about that. I’m… just tired. I can’t help you anymore, though. You should ask someone else,” Remus said brusquely, his eyes unnerving as he stared at the child. As a result, he yelped out a ‘thank you,’ rushing off in the opposite direction.

The muscles in his jaw tensed under the soft glow of the table lamps. There was a pale red tint rimming his eyes and he looked visibly paler than normal. Irritated, he bounced his knee rapidly, up and down, before looking out the large window beside them. The sky was mostly cloudy. Only the peak of the silvery moon appeared. A sliver was missing before it was fully complete.

He closed his eyes, before breathing in. His posture once stiffened, completely relaxed before a flimsy smile reappeared on his face, returning his attention to Y/N.

“Let’s continue, shall we?”

“If you’re tired we can stop.”

“No, s’okay. I’m fine — really.”

She chewed the inside of her cheek, adding to her list:

5. Remus was always so hard to read.

[itbelillian]

deltarune ch2 spoilers

seriously I'm about to spoil the fuck out of the game and also the Alternative Route For Assholes

ok the 24 hour spoiler ban has passed but still: FINAL SPOILER WARNING. 

first: GOD this game is so. GOOD? holy sweet mother of meatball, I have been thinking about it nonstop for the past 2 days. it feels like a shitpost. I love queen dearly. the potassium gag. “what does bosom mean??” “tity.” every single interaction with her and berdly made me PISS myself laughing and especially The Statue. actually this whole game was really, really funny. the part where you and ralsei go on the swan boat, literally on acid, and battle it out with rouxls kaard. who is riding a duck. god where does toby come up with this material?? it is so weird but.... so good. his comedic chops have gotten a LOT better since undertale, and even chapter 1.

the art, music, and mechanics were SPOT ON. the recruitment thing, the implication that at some point you’re going to have to de-recruit someone for the betterment of your town, the town itself, just... good lord. toby has outdone himself. this adds so much complexity to the gameplay that was kind of lacking in undertale? I also love the way that the equipment has been done this time around, it adds an element of strategy to deciding who should get what items and when to equip different items. the team as a whole is so great, mechanics wise. fights with them are INFINITELY more entertaining than fighting alone as kris would be. and the art is WAY better than undertale. I've never been one to criticize Undertale’s graphics, and I still won’t, but it’s impossible to deny that deltarune is a step up in every way. the little animations of kris and susie entering the dark world, susie and lancer’s high-five, the attack/defend animations, just so good. the environments are super aesthetically pleasing, too. the music is great, of course. it’s Toby Fox what am I expecting?? to be honest nothing has really Hit Me the same way any tracks from undertale have, but maybe they will as I listen to them more. a big part of it is the familiarity.

also: I was never too attached to either susie or Ralsei in chapter one, but this really sold it for me. when I played Undertale I felt very invested in the characters, but not so much my friendship with them. it felt very much like we had just met each other. in deltarune I 100000 percent buy the friendship and I ADORE both of them so much? the fact that kris literally does not say anything but still has distinct dynamics with the two of them baffles me but I can’t complain because it is?? so?? amazing??? I was genuinely very upset when ralsei and susie left to do their own thing. I didn’t realize it as it was happening but I really loved having them around. I missed them. also it seems like EVERYONE except me was suspicious of ralsei, but now that it’s been pointed out... yeah. I love him to BITS so it pains me to say but something is Wrong With Him. why can he travel from dark world to dark world without turning into a statue? what are the titans, and why is he only mentioning them now? and actually, ALL of our information about the dark world is coming from him. how much is true? what else does he know that he’s not telling us? 

and what. WHAT. is up with kris? I don’t even have any theories I am just baffled. it seems like they’re the knight, right? have they been creating... all of the dark worlds, including the first one in the storage closet? does this make kris the villain? or is the creation of dark worlds a good thing... meaning ralsei is manipulating us into thinking the dark fountains are evil? Why would they slash Toriel’s tires? why are we possessing them? also I LOVE the puppet theme with the hidden bosses... and it really seems like something about that is not sitting right with kris, either. kris full on shouting that they’re not okay to ralsei after he asks... good god I am SO CURIOUS. the mystery element here is really on point. it’s so easy to settle into the comedy and fun little group dynamic, but something is always Wrong and when something reminds you it is deeply unsettling. the only group member who doesn’t seem to have something freaky and suspicious going on is susie... if she turns out to be evil too i stg im ejecting myself from the stratosphere 

also speaking of mysteries: not knowing how Undertale and deltarune connect is KILLING me. I fully buy into the theory that sans and papyrus are “from” the world of deltarune, originally. if the theory is true, then word search from icee’s pizzeria you find in UT is actually SO? brilliant. SANS GAVE YOU A WORD SEARCH FROM A RESTAURANT THAT ONLY EXISTS IN DELTARUNE. was toby thinking about this all the way back when Undertale was released??? but is deltarune an alternate... timeline? does undertale exist at ALL, if the sans and papyrus thing doesn’t turn out to be true? but if that were the case, why would sans’ grocery store be the same building as grillby’s, logo and all? does sans owning the grillby’s building indicate that sans went to the undertale world to take it?? what is going ON??? 

and just going to say it: snowgrave route in deltarune (is that what we’re calling it???) is a MILLION times freakier than the genocide route in Undertale. like ut is  depressing, it was Unfun to kill my friends, but the way you just... slowly corrupt pure, innocent Noelle and make her do your incredibly screwed up bidding is just disturbing. the way you just say “Proceed” at all the puzzles and like, gaslight her into thinking she didn’t TOTALLY MURK berdly and that ring seller guy... god it’s so messed up but also SO???? amazing??? murdering video game characters makes you feel like you’re... well, playing a video game. but forcing Noelle to do it for you??? something about that feels so much more twisted. god I feel like a sadistic bastard. 

deltarune is not undertale but it’s not trying to be. it definitely feels distinctly different, and maybe more sinister? expectations are through the roof for toby but he’s killing it. I remember being worried when deltarune ch1 was announced, because undertale doesn’t feel like the kind of game that can, or should, be followed up by anything. I think I was wrong though. I don’t know how its possible, but deltarune is the perfect thematic successor to undertale in every way I can think of. tl;dr PLAY DELTARUNE it was good 

[felassan]

Extended thoughts on the Dark Fortress preview pages [spoilers at link]

(Would I be an MJ if I did not do this? This post is under a cut due to spoilers.)

I like the preview pages a lot, I’m excited for release - roll on March 31. There’s a lot packed into just these limited pages, so I’m looking forwards to seeing the issue and its contents in their entirety. 

A flashback to the Battle of Ostagar all those years ago is the last thing I was expecting when coming to this comic and it hit me with a one-two of feelings and nostalgia. Up there just off-screen, the Hero of Ferelden and Alistair have just lit the beacon in the Tower of Ishal. In these panels, the rain, the lighting, the atmosphere - it’s surreal (not in a bad way) seeing these fateful events again, back where it all kinda began really, and that page does a good job of replicating that cutscene and the heavy feel of it in a different medium. It’s a nice touch seeing surprise/unsureness and even conflict on some of the soldiers’ faces as Loghain gives the order to retreat. A couple of them even seen disconcerted as they walk away (looking at one another in askance). I like this take on Ser Cauthrien, and I wonder if Aaron ever encountered Aveline, Wynne, Carver or non-mage Hawke at Ostagar before the battle...?

Loghain’s words “He must do what his honor compels him to do” almost feel like a bit of metacommentary, i.e. on Loghain’s character in addition to obviously being about Ser Aaron.

In-universe before now, there have been varying accounts of Ser Aaron’s experience at Ostagar. Did he miss the fight, did he kill two ogres, etc. Now we see the truth of the matter is exactly as he told Vaea, which speaks of the trust and close relationship between the two. I’m not going to lie, the “I am coming my king” and subsequent panels make me cry on this re-read. Aaron reaching out for Cailan in his sleep with his other fist clenched, jerking awake from a nightmare in a cold sweat.. Aaron is so brave, he was the sole or one of the few soldiers in Loghain’s company to make this kind of stand (and you can see that there was a moment when he did turn to leave and considered it before turning back), and these panels convey the extent of the trauma that he experienced on the field of battle that day. I’m positive that in panel 2 here, it’s the exact moment when he sees Cailan die. It also hurts to think that not far from there, Duncan is seeing the same thing. They’ve done a good job integrating the new characters’ pasts with previous canon events with things like these. It’s like, expanding on things, but without anything conflicting.

When Aaron reaches for his alcohol skin I’m pretty sure his hand is shaking. Vaea is so tender and understanding/supportive at this part and it’s a really poignant and soft moment for them.. Aaron’s nightmares are a regular occurrence it seems. I love her and their relationship so much.. keeping watch over him while he sleeps a bit away from the others and the fire. ;; Also Autumn’s ears here, she’s lying down but still listening to what’s going on with and between her people. ;;

Brief pause here: I always appreciate getting a good sense where different events are taking place in the additional media. Also we now have in-universe confirmation that in the timeline we’ve now reached 9:45, as opposed to only external word-of-god. Do you guys ever think about your Wardens and how it’s been 15 years for them?

Aaron is like a father to Vaea 😭

Fenris has two daggers now in addition to his twohanded sword. The better for ending Danarius’ bloodline my dear 🔪

Have they tweaked Fenris’ hairstyle a bit, compared to Blue Wraith? Possibly also his skintone and eyebrows, compared to Blue Wraith? (I find this kind of thing hard to tell. If I’m incorrect here please feel free to correct me.) He looks good in this preview.

Poor Francesca. Tessa is really kind at this part and it’s nice to see more moments like these between female characters (women supporting one another). It reminds me of the moment in a previous issue where Vaea hugs Francesca on the ground. Tessa makes a great point here that true strength isn’t necessarily being stoic and unemotional, it’s standing up for what you believe in and for the greater good, even at great personal cost. It’s not 'not crying' and hiding your sadness. That’s a nice message, and again, Fran has really grown on me.

I also think it speaks well of Fenris and his character development after all these years in-universe that he was looking for a way to help Aaron, then immediately thought to go speak to Francesca when she was upset to see if he could help her in turn.

hhh brooding silent Marius staring broodily and silently into the flames and not responding to Fenris’ attempt at making conversation tho, the gentle lampshading..  That’s so true to his character. These might be my favorite panels in the whole preview. Fenris’ dry wit and facial expressions, the general composition, Fenris peacing out like “ok bye ig” lmao. You also get the sense that Fenris is reeling a bit and feeling abandoned since Hawke and co split up. After trying to do something to help both Aaron and Fran above, he then tries to make conversation with Marius. He’s trying to lighten the mood but also to connect after being alone for some time. He has missed having a group around him, and I suspect this group with its varying troubles and issues reminds him a lot of Hawke and co. That both the humor aspect and this characterization comes through in these 3 panels is pretty brilliant.

We reach the titular dark fortress! If ever there was a fortress for a bad guy, huh? x) The narrow exposed causeway being the only approach is a smart line of defense, strategically. Also, the realization that this is where Fenris lived while he was a slave of Danarius’ :| It’s a horrible-looking place and will be full of bad memories for him.

If this is how stormy the Nocen Sea gets in places - well, it reminds me of the lore that in Thedas naval exploration beyond the known map has been historically limited by different factors like pirates, Qunari dreadnoughts, stormy seas and sea creatures etc.

Characters speaking their native languages in places is always a nice touch. Now we’ve heard “By the Maker!” in Orlesian.

Aspects of the style and architecture of the Tevinter buildings in this preview, like the window shapes and the red lights and stuff, echo or remind me of what we’ve seen of Minrathous in the most recent trailer and some of the recent pieces of concept art for the next game. Neat.

We have our name and identity for the mage on the cover! Tractus Danarius, bastard son of Danarius. Danarius fucked around huh. “Tractus” has a Latin root, fittingly for a Tevinter name. Its different meanings are quite interesting: being dragged, extracted, plundered, an anthem sung in some masses, an elongated area or abnormal passage... I wonder if one of them will come into play somehow, the name possibly having been chosen for a reason? I also wonder how young Tractus is relative to Fenris, and if their paths have ever crossed in the past.

Tractus makes his entrance with two elven slaves or servants in tow. Like on the cover, his eyes are red. The head of his staff is a red sphere, also. Can we assume a connection to red lyrium, then, given these factors and the villains’ interest in using red lyrium to power the sarcophagus? I would guess that as normal magic was required to make it work with blue lyrium, the thing required to make it work with red lyrium is blood magic? A blood magic ritual. My guess is that the thing Tractus shows Marquette and Nenealeus is probably a chained up dragon or similar, which they plan to sacrifice and use the blood/power derived from that to fuel the magic/ritual. This is considering blood as a theme in this setting, blood as a source of power mechanically and the dragon-like beast on one of the covers which has clearly at one point been shackled and collared. (Here’s some previous speculation about Dark Fortress based on the covers.)

Although Tractus’ relative youth and inexperience compared to Nenealeus comes across in these pages, I get the feeling that Nenealeus will regret talking down in this manner to Tractus later in the comic.

It seems Tractus paints his nails dark. His commitment to aesthetic I give 5/5 stars

Remember the fall of Ventus/Qarinus to the Antaam invasion in TN? The Antaam must be progressing through Tevinter if people fear that Neromenian may soon fall also.

I appreciate that everyone’s horse is different! It’s a nice touch. A lot of the time in media groups of people ride identical horses like they’re clones or automatons as opposed to actual creatures.

Tractus’ smile when he’s asking if they’re going to wait for Qintara to arrive is slightly manic, lol, he’s giving off “Are we there yet?” car journey energy here. The doorway in this panel - is that a portcullis-style door? It seems like it has spikes at the bottom which would sink into the floor, and that there’s some kind of mechanism running along the floor towards it. Presumably to contain the [dragon?]?

I forgot Nenealeus has a sword - I guess then he knows magic artforms similar to those of a Knight-Enchanter or Arcane Warrior. Also here, Marquette echoes the Executor in TN, with the sentiment that Qintara fell with Ventus. Nenealeus is then referencing Gaius, the impersonator Qintara, right? That’s interesting; Gaius’ true master was Fen’Harel, on whose behalf he accessed important information about the world. This means then [?] that some of the time when Gaius believed himself to be working on behalf of Fen’Harel, he was really being manipulated by Nenealeus. Poor Gaius, at different points Fen’Harel and Nenealeus were pulling his strings. Does Nenealeus’ manipulation refer to Gaius trading it away to House Danarius for information?

Marquette references the red lyrium idol, and suddenly my Dragon Age 4 ears are pricking the way Autumn’s do. x) He mentions that it makes weapons, referencing I assume Meredith’s lyrium sword, Certainty and the ritual blade that pops out from the base of the idol during The Dread Wolf Take You. I wonder when the events of this comic take place in relation to the stories related at the spy meeting in TDWTY? Is this before or after the events of the Mortalitasi’s tale? At any rate, Marquette voices something we’ve been obsessing over: what else can and does the idol do specifically, beyond just making weapons and being Ominous and Powerful? Because whatever it is, it’s key to Solas’ ongoing plans, and Solas obviously knows.

So it seems that the villains’ plan is to use the red lyrium idol’s sword part with the sarcophagus, red lyrium, a ritual and [the thing Tractus shows them in that panel - the dragon?] in order to transform Shirallas into, essentially, a Red Wraith, a Red Lyrium Fenris. And then to arm him, under Nenealeus’ control, with the sword.

Does Shirallas still have his vallaslin - is it just the lighting and the angle in that panel? Also, that panel with Shirallas and Nenealeus looks so ominous and foreboding 😭 .. (and reminds me somehow of Fenris and Danarius when Fenris was still his slave and bodyguard) Shirallas, we really are in it now 😭 This is a really cool panel btw, like the composition, the lighting, the dramatic-ness. 

Nenealeus is motivated by a desire to route the Antaam from Tevinter (like the mage in the Mortalitasi’s tale in TDWTY) and reconquer lost lands in order to restore the glory of the Imperium (which reminds me in a way of of Aurelian Titus, who also wanted to restore the Imperium to greatness). Classically Tevinter here.

“Danarius the Lesser” is a sick burn. I’d guess Tractus’ life thus far, as a bastard, has had themes and struggles with inferiority and consequent lack of power but desire for it (being disrespected, but craving respect, being connected to a certain world but not really part of it, in fact rejected by it). Venatori connection confirmed. That the Venatori had to be convinced to accept someone as a Danarius - implications for the role of the Venatori remnants and their role in Tevinter and things in general going forwards? Lightning flashes overhead as Tractus and Nenealeus have this face-off in that panel, emphasizing the tension between the two. I wonder what the magic in the fortress and in the courtyard can do? It’d have been no mean feat to escape from this place as a slave, it seems, especially bearing in mind there’s only one proper way out, that causeway (passage not included). Tractus’ staff-head lights up when he’s making a threat (uh-oh), and then wow! Shirallas moves so quickly, in the blink of an eye suddenly appearing out of nowhere and startling the guard-mage onlookers. He’s fast and formidable.

I wonder about Tractus. Is he a “half blood” because he’s a bastard and his mother wasn’t an Altus, or even wasn’t a mage, or because he’s a bastard and his mother was an elf? Or both?

Will we see a face-off between perrepataes (Marius and Shirallas)? Will Marius face-off against his former master, Nenealeus? Perhaps a showdown between the Blue Wraith and the “Red Wraith” is on the cards?

Back to our team in the tavern! There’s a looot of great character content packed into these pages, which is really cool. Each brief character interaction conveys a lot, and in general this sequence is just well-executed imo. How troubled and tired Aaron looks at the bar (my heart.. it hurts); Fran worrying for Aaron; Vaea knowing that she can’t pressure him too much because that’s just not how it works when it comes to folks who struggle with issues like these; Vaea asking after Fran’s wellbeing; Fran struggling to come to terms with what happened to her father; Fenris watching the door waiting for news (he’s so vigilant isn’t he? safety, an escape-route..); Marius Broods Harder; Vaea’s [relative] pacifism being highlighted; Vaea engaging Marius looking for reassurance; and the choice of having Marius break his silence now is meaningful and impactful in that it shows what happens when one becomes ‘numb’ to the constant murderizing of people, so to speak. Fenris then rightfully points out that becoming numb to killing and violence isn’t really a good thing and is worse, really, than being ‘soft’ or uncomfortable with it. I wonder if he’s speaking from experience here, given the hundreds of people Hawke and co kill their way through during the Kirkwall years, for example. Then Vaea’s concern for Aaron and his state of mind, and Fenris’ uncanny insight into that, of a man he’s only recently met.

Tessa looks so cute when she comes in the door! I love Vaea’s lil “:D” face when she sees her, and I wonder what the tavern food on the table is.

Those two panels, when Fenris talks about Hawke and Leandra, are the biggest emotional gut-punch in the preview pages 😭 omg.. I’m not strong enough for this.. bls... bruh... This is then compounded by (hitting me when I’m down!!) the look of sheer... fear, fury, alarm, upset, shock - that appears on Fenris’ face as soon as he hears “I found Danarius”. Seriously, look at his eyes here. He (understandably) still has a trauma-response associated with the name/man.

Bless Tessa. 

I have to say, it’s very Metal of Fenris that not only did he kill Danarius in DA2 (in those universes), but he has also been going around Tevinter since then killing all of Danarius’ [adult] heirs, and that his response to learning there’s still one remaining is to grab his sword and go to march off with the aim of ending the bloodline a second time. Very metal

I love the final panels in the preview as well! Vaea’s sense/smarts and how she wasn’t afraid to tell Fenris no, Autumn’s giant ears, how Autumn also moves with Vaea to step in front of Fenris to stop him (SHE! HELPED!!!), Autumn’s Happy Face and furiously wagging tail and agreement with Aaron, and Proud Dad Aaron rising from his slump to praise Vaea with the most Proudest Daddest expression that you ever did see...  ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )

[probably-a-platypus-idk]

A midsummer night´s dream (National Theatre, 2019)

(Aka happy pride month)

-Listen I love. Love. Bottom and the Pyramus and Thisbe players with all my heart.

-In this version, Puck serves Titania and makes Oberon fall in love with Bottom. Gay national theatre strikes again.

-Oberons coat I need it

-I could listen to Hermia all day and night gods her voice is so lovely

-the fairies are queer glittery gymnasts and I'm entranced

-“coolcoolcool“

-best audience participation/inclusion ever

-Lysander is a ReBeL er spielt Gitarre und trägt ne Lederjacke

-seine Lieder 10/10

-“PLAYS ARE BOOORING“

-the scene where Oberon and Bottom meet high quality shit

-gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay

-please let Hermia and Helena be happy and make ~out~ up.I mean make up

-“I'll knock your f u c k i n g teeth out“

-One day I'll direct this play and I'll make the fairies eat popcorn whilst they're watching the lovers fight

-the scene where Demetrius&Lysander are fighting is sooo well made

-die Badewannenszene

-Puck in a black suit surely is a new look

-I need a rude mechanicals sweater please

-Hipolytas facial expressions during Pyramus and Thisbe

-speaking of which the play is fucking brilliant, comedy gold

-“it's immersive“

-Gut gebrüllt Löwe <3

-Pyramus death is a big ass mood

-DANCE SEQUENCE

-Jedes mal wenn ich dieses Stück sehe komme ich zum Schluss dass Lysander, Helena, Demetrius und Hermia doch eigentlich auch poly sein könnten :,)

-flower crowns

[codevassie]

Canonverse VLD Fic Recs

[***Let me know if I’ve missed anything on the Content Warnings!]

[**Do Not Ask Authors for Updates!]

[*Leave these authors Comments, please and thank you!]

Keith’s Type by AmbitiousSkychild

Status: Complete

Summary: “How would anyone notice what anyone else’s type is in the middle of all this?!” Matt demanded, laughing. “What’s Keith’s type?” Lance blurted out like an idiot. “It’s… obvious,” Pidge said. “He gets all flustered over shitty puns and most physical comedy. And have you seen the way he stares at Hunk when he’s going on about the mechanics of something? Like how the lions work? I’ve literally seen him blushing when Hunk goes into explanation mode.” “So, you think he has a crush on Hunk?” Lance squawked. “No. You bonehead,” Pidge laughed. “I’m saying any dad-joke-telling, klutzoid with good grades has probably got a pretty good shot at Keith.” Or: It figures that after years of getting it hilariously wrong face-to-face, Lance finally gets good at talking to Keith through a screen, which is, like, one of his biggest accomplishments. Then, Pidge makes the comment that Keith has a type, while heavily implying that it's Matt. But, listen, with everything going on with Voltron, the coalition, the Blade of Marmora, and Coran, Lance isn't going to get distracted worrying about it. Ask anyone, he's always been great with measuring levels of importance....

Relationships: Klance

CW: Jealousy, Referenced Suicide

My thoughts: As disappointing as canon can be, the canon universe has so much potential that authors take full advantage of. When canon posed the problem of Keith being apart from the team for oh so long, our wonderful authors simply took it as a challenge. This is one of the brilliant fics that roll with the long-distance thing, and it takes place throughout season four. I love fics from this season because A Lot happens and I thought there was so much more to it than what canon gave us--the team breaking apart was a big deal to me, so focusing on team dynamics, Keith’s time with the Blade, and--gosh--the end of this season, just means a lot to me. It focuses on a klance relationship in the heat of utter turmoil, and Lance’s jealousy was a cute and humorous aspect, especially with how harmless it was through Lance’s personality and the realization that he likes Keith.

The Loverboy Trials by PM_Writes

Status: Complete

Summary: He can tell Shiro is struggling to remain collected. “And why do you think Keith is your…sex…god?” And geez, that would be so much funnier if this wasn’t so disturbing. The representative leads them to the back of the council room where she pulls aside a large curtain. Behind it, a huge mural stretches to the ceiling. It looks exactly like Keith.

Relationships: Klance

CW: Referenced Suicide, Violence, Talk of Dubious Consent and Sex, Suffocation, (Alien) Alcohol, Injury

My thoughts: Another #FuckNaxzela2017 fic. This takes place after season four and Keith stays with Voltron for a bit after what happened. The team goes on a mission and things get weird--so, like, a regular canonverse fic, but when the war is getting really serious and we most need a bit of that Voltron normalcy (discretion: Voltron “normalcy” is missions going wrong and wonky). It’s really cool because the team is sort of back together, but Keith is still separated from them for the majority of the fic--just not with the Blade. It’s really weird circumstances, but Keith and Lance still interact throughout the fic a lot, so don’t let that discourage you. Its absurdity is hilarious; there’s excellent klance banter, and great fluff and angst.

Of Escorts and Espionage by hisboywriter

Status: Complete

Summary: Lance preened. Escort? That sounded kind of sexy and badass. “Why, of course, Princess,” he said, standing up to offer his hand at Allura. “I would escort you to the most Galra-infested reaches of the galaxy if you asked.” Allura’s arm rose but the hand she placed in Lance’s palm was not hers.It was Keith’s. ~ AKA I just really wanted klance blossoming through an adventure

Relationships: Klance

CW: Sexual Content, Blood and Violence, Vehicle Crash, Injury, Alcohol, Jealousy, Nightmares, Hyperventilation, Attempted Kidnapping, Fainting, Torture, Death

My thoughts: Remember this one? No? Seems like you’ve got an exciting read ahead of you. This is one that I read pretty early on in the fandom, so it’s a big nostalgia pick. It really emphasizes that enemies to lovers trope, and there’s secrets across the freaking spectrum. Lance and Keith are keeping secrets bc they’re undercover, but there’s also a whole bunch of shady stuff going on at this planet, and Keith is getting those Bad Vibes constantly. It is exciting and breathtaking and so beautifully written. 

and, we dream of home by mothpoem

Status: Incomplete, Continuation Not Determined

Summary: “Then come see me,” Lance murmurs, and it makes Keith’s heart pound behind his breastbone. “Us, I mean. Once a week or something? Like mental health check-ins. We can just hang out, or...or go on low-priority, low-stress missions? Scouting, or flower-picking for Coran, or supply runs. Dumb stuff. Just...so we know how you are. I don’t want...I mean, we all miss you. And I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but...it feels like you’re not...not okay, Keith.” Well, Keith thinks, a little weakly. He never really stood a chance, did he? “Okay,” he says, right away. No fight. No refusal. His life is a hell of a lot easier when he lets himself cave under all the ways he wants Lance's luminous attention, and company, and friendship. All the ways he wants Lance, full stop.

Relationships: Klance

CW: Swearing, Immature Teen Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol, Dream Major Character Death, Referenced Suicide, Death Mention, Self-Deprecation, Bullying, Injury and Blood, Miscommunication

My thoughts: This fic makes me. So Happy. It’s another one after season four--really, during season five--because I have a problem, but oh my gosh look at how happy these boys are and tell me your heart isn’t full of joy. I’ll wait. Really, that’s the point of the recs; go read. Stupid teenagers in love stuck in the middle of a war, but they really need a freaking break and I support that. They deserve a break. They’re like fucking twelve. This fic just is so cute and so soft and so funny; it gives me life every time. 

Crossroads by manamune

Status: Complete

Summary: When Keith crashed his Lion into a Galra warship in order to stop it from destroying a solar system, and more importantly, his friends, he was fully prepared to die for it. What he didn’t prepare for was to wake up in an alternate universe where he and Lance were dating.

Relationships: Klance

CW: Panic Attacks, Dubious Consent, Referenced Suicide, Blood and Violence, Injury, Coma, Medication Mention, Sex and Sex Tape Referenced, Trauma, References to Hallucinations

My thoughts: Another throw-back! The Naxzela of its time, if I may say so. I'm joking. Sort of. It really kind of predicted that shit, though, didn't it. Anyway, this was another fic I read early on in this fandom and can I just tell you how blown away I was? It's labeled as a murder mystery, and, you know what, it is. You are absolutely trying to figure out what's going on the whole time, and it keeps you on the edge of your seat. It doesn’t... technically... take place in canonverse the whole time, but the main Keith is from canonverse. So it counts. Absolutely enthralling read.

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Three - Andrea, Not Idiot

As promised, my doorbell rang at precisely 8:20. 10 minutes before I had to leave to LFG. It was the mechanic, holding the keys of my car.

“It was the oil pump, it was broken. I fixed it, as well as other things. It’ll work like a beauty now.” The mechanic said, without greeting me.

“Good, how much to I owe you?” I said, worried about how much that would cost me. Cheap car, expensive bills, my father would say.

“It’s already paid for. I need to go. My coworker is double-parked waiting for me.” The mechanic left as quickly and unceremoniously as he came.

I looked at my wristwatch, it was 8:25 already. If I didn’t leave right away, I would be late. I grabbed my purse and the plastic bag laying on the sofa, and left to work.

When I arrived at LFG, Ted was already waiting for me.

“Bringing your dry cleaning to work? Don’t let Victor see that.” He pointed at the plastic bag with a hanger that I was holding.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it out of the way in a moment. Has Victor arrived?” I asked, turning on my computer and taking some files out of my drawer.

“No, don’t worry. Go get your coffee, I’ll hold the fort for you.”

I went to the coffee room to get a cup of coffee, mentally reminding myself of all the things I had to do that day. Seeing I was alone in the coffee room, I allowed myself to hum the music I had been listening to while driving to work. It was this blues song by Sara Bareilles, Manhattan.

The pot was empty, so I washed it, and filled the coffee maker with water and ground coffee. As I waited for the pot to fill with a fresh brew, my fingers tapped on the table, trying to figure out the chords she played for that song in her piano, getting myself more and more immersed in the tune.

You can have Manhattan, I’m sure it’s for the best

I’ll gather up the avenues, and leave them on your doorstep.

And I’ll tiptoe away, so you won’t have to say you heard me leave.

You can have Manhattan, I know it’s what you want.

The bustle and the buildings, the weather in the Fall

And I’ll bow out of place to save you some space for somebody new.

You can have Manhattan ‘cause I can’t have you.

I sang to myself, my eyes closed, mesmerized by the depth of the lyrics. This was one of those songs that, although sad, hit you right on your core, making everything that’s negative spill all over, leaving you fresh and revived. I filled my cup while humming the notes she played in the solo part, wondering if I could replay it if my piano wasn’t back in Portugal.

I was so distracted with my own thoughts I didn’t notice someone else was in the room. Worse than that, I didn’t notice someone was in the room standing right behind me. I quickly turned to go back to my seat, when I collided with something hard that I wasn’t expecting to be there.

“Fuck!” I almost yelled as the coffee mug tilted my way and spilled all over my arm, the coffee almost at boiling temperature. I held the mug with my left hand while trying to shake the hot coffee out of my right arm.

 “What kind of an idiot sneaks behind people like that?” I gritted between my teeth, looking up to see who was the moron. It was the CEO. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly open, and it looked like he was every bit as mortified as I was. It took him like a nanosecond to get his poker face back on, as he took my hand and led it to under the faucet, turning the cold water on.

I was speechless, as he carefully pulled the sleeve of my sweater up and moved my hand so the stream of water would glide over my forearm. He turned off the faucet and took a clean kitchen cloth from one of the drawers, dabbing my arm with it.

“You don’t seem to be burnt, but you should apply something to heal it, just in case. I’ll ask Goldman to stop by the pharmacy and get you something suitable for this.” He said, still working on drying my arm, his eyes not leaving his hands. I took my arm from his grip abruptly, feeling myself blush furiously.

“It’s ok, I don’t think I am hurt at all.” I had no nerve to look him in the eyes, remembering I just called him an idiot.

“I’m surprised to see you’re still alive, judging by how clumsy you are. Remind me to forbid any knives at the office.” He joked, although it seemed more like an insult than a joke.

“Or maybe I should remind you to wear a bell instead of a tie, since you move as silently as a cat.” I retorted, my tone moody. My sweater’s sleeve was drenched in hot coffee, I felt entitled to be a little bitchy.

“Or maybe you shouldn’t be so distracted and mind your surroundings.” He replied immediately, his tone sour, not appreciating my comeback. But I didn’t lose any time either.

“I apologize, I’m used to polite people saying good morning when they arrive. That usually tells me they’re in the room.” He was about to throw some more verbal venom at me, his expression even angrier than before, when I interrupted him, in a much softer voice. “Did I spill any coffee on you?”

“Surprisingly, no.” His tone softened as well. “It must be my lucky week, I survived you twice already.” I could see he was trying to hide a smile, but ignored it. I turned away to leave when I heard his voice again. “Did the mechanic deliver the car on time?”

“Yes! I do need to talk to you about that!” I was about to continue, but Victor stopped me.

“In my office.” He said as he walked away.

“I’ll meet you there in a minute. I have something to give you.” I ran to my desk and grabbed the plastic bag neatly laying on the chair next to mine. I went to Victor’s office, the door was ajar and he already sitting on his desk, reading something on his laptop.

“What do you want to talk about again?” He said, closing the laptop and giving me his full attention.

“First, here. I took your jacket home by accident.” I said, handing him the plastic bag. He opened it and took the jacket out.

“It smells… different.” He said, bringing the jacket to his nose and smelling it.

“I washed it and ironed it. It’s pristine clean.”

“You did all of that last night?” He asked, raising his eyebrow at me.

“Yes, but that’s not really what I want to talk about.” I said, changing the subject. “The mechanic wouldn’t bill me for fixing my car, so I assume you paid for it? How much do I owe you?”

Victor opened his laptop again, uninterested in the subject. After a long minute, he finally answered.

“Uhh… Yes. Your assumption is incorrect. I did not pay for it.” He said, typing away on his keyboard.

“Then who did?” I asked, confused, and slightly uncomfortable.

“LFG’s insurance.” He frowned, like he was trying to remember something and then looked at me. “I can’t recall you ever presenting your reports to me.”

“Ted usually does that for me, since he’s my supervisor.” I said, starting to fidget. I did not want to have to make a presentation for Victor Lee.

“Will you ask Ted to sign your internship certificate when you finish it?” He asked, his voice flat.

“Of course not, sir.” I promptly answered. “You’ll have to sign it.” I felt like I was in the army. God, that guy made me nervous.

“Be at my office at 6 pm sharp, with your reports ready for presentation. From now on, I will be your supervisor and you’ll report directly to me, understood?” I could feel the rigidness of an order.

“If I may ask, why the change? I’m pleased with my supervisor. I have no complaints.” I tried to argue, respectfully.

“Who do you think decides who supervises you? Ted?” I didn’t want to reply, the obvious answer was Victor, and it made me feel dumb to state the obvious, so I nodded silently, showing him I’d seen his point. The CEO, however, was not pleased with just a nod. “Well?” He insisted. “Did you forget how to talk?”.

“You, Sir. You are the CEO.” I answered, trying not to roll my eyes at him.

“6 pm. Come prepared.” He said, focusing on the screen of his laptop. “And I believe I expressed my disagreement over you calling me Sir.”

“I apologize. I will be here later, Sir. I mean, Victor.”

He was already entirely focused on his work, not even aware that I was leaving.

At 6 pm sharp I knocked on his door. Victor closed his laptop as I came in.

“Conference room.” He said shortly, pointing outside.

I marched quickly to the conference room to quickly plug in my computer to the screen on the wall, so I would have everything ready the minute the CEO sat down. And for a second it dawned on me why Goldman kept running all the time. Just like me, he expected a scolding every time he had to do something.

Victor walked in and took his jacket off. Then, he grabbed the knot of his tie and slid it down, removing the tie in one swift movement. Laying both items on the chair next to him, he sat down and started rolling up his sleeves.

“Let’s begin.” He said, as he undid the first two buttons of his shirt.

I started my presentation with three of the companies I was assisting investment-wise, speaking of both progress and issues the companies had been through, when I noticed Victor was slumped on his chair, his head precariously resting on the back of the chair, his eyes closed. Apparently, he was asleep. I stared at him, unsure of what to do. And for a moment, I let myself watch the slumbering figure in front of me, his usual cold and aloof expression replaced with a placid, relaxed one. The unbuttoned shirt showed his collarbone, distinct and masculine, and a little of what I suspected were very defined pectorals. If not for his temper and bitchy attitude, Victor was a very attractive man. I wondered for a moment what would be like to be in his bed, those large hands holding my back, his cute butt moving as he thrust me with his…

“I didn’t say stop. Although I have to warn I may fall asleep. Not at all what I expected from one of the future brilliant minds in Economics.” Ok, so he was not sleeping, he was just being an asshole, calling my presentation a snore-fest.

“Any comments on my work you’d like to make so far?” I asked, bitterly. If you are going to insult me, at least have the decency to do it to my face.

“Not quite yet. How do you suggest the companies should act regarding said issues?” He said, his eyes still closed.

I presented my next slide, answering his question. He sat up straight, opening his eyes. He had this evil smirk on his face, and I sort of expected him to rub his hands mischievously.

“This sounds something like Ted would say. Did Ted write your report?”

“I wrote my report. Ted provided guidance, that’s all.” I answered, offended.

“I see. And he told you this was the right answer?”

“He told me this is the answer that would please you.” I confessed. Because at the moment it seemed all my work was to please Victor, the slayer of souls and destroyer of joy.

He looked me in the eyes, his expression fierce. I could guess a bit of resentment in it too.

“Are you that afraid of me?” He asked, squinting at me. “Am I such a monster in your eyes?”

“Everybody is a little afraid of you.” I answered flatly. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I had decided to be so honest at that moment. I guess I was feeling trapped.

Victor’s eyes shimmered a bit, and then his poker face was back on.

“Do you agree with those recommendations for your companies? Speak truthfully.”

“No, I don’t. I would suggest something else. I wrote these under Ted’s advisement.”

Victor leaned with his elbows on the table, his forehead resting on his entwined hands. He was clearly frustrated, sighing heavily, as if he had some nasty words to say to me but was holding them down.

“I called your previous employers inquiring about you. The future of Economics, they said. A breath of fresh air, they said. Innovation meets elegance, they said. The golden child. Not that I believed a word of that, but I wanted to see what that golden child looked like. And disappointed doesn’t come near to describe how I feel. You are simply an idiot, just like those other idiots that beg to work for me.” His words were bitter, reminding me too much of Daniel in the final months of our little hell. Undermining. Belittling.

“You know what? Other employees may take this crap from you, but I certainly won’t.” I spat, the bad blood rising fast. “You are a bully, no more than that. You believe that because you have the most expensive toys in the playground, you get to whack all the other kids with them. I can’t really decide what to feel about you. One moment you’re this kind yet socially awkward person, the other you’re just plain rude and entitled. I’m not an idiot, nor a moron, or a dummy, or other endearing nicknames you usually call your staff. My name is Andrea, and although it may be hard for you to pronounce because it’s Portuguese, I’ve heard you say it correctly before, so I trust you can do it again. Andrea, not idiot.”

Victor sat quietly, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging. I was pretty sure I was being fired, so I took the chance and the guts I had left to blurt out all I wanted to say. But this time, my voice was softer.

“You expect me to know, but you never teach. You just expect people to learn by osmosis, as that would ever be possible, because your temper won’t let anyone go near. You never heard me say I was a golden child, or even act like one. I told you, I came here because I was eager to learn from you and others like you, because I respect your work and how much you’ve accomplished, and so far all I have are insults. I can surely say I’m pretty disappointed too.”

I could see Victor wanted to retort, his mouth moving slightly, but no words would come out. I turned to my laptop to disconnect it from the screen, and started gathering up my things.

“No need to fire me, I will hand you my resignation letter tomorrow.” I almost whispered, my back turned to him, “This is clearly not working for the both of us. Good day.”

And without another word, I took my belongings and left the conference room, absolutely sure that the following day would be my last one there.

[randomoranges]

ok so i’ve had this idea for ages. it was og meant as a pre-amnesia/post-amnesia thing. you know the type. but, if you squint real hard it could just me some rando au where they meet when they’re in uni and grow old and happy together.

find yourself a weirdo if that’s your thing :) 

Sushi for Two

 Message from Étienne (Roommate)

Questions: 1. Do you like sushi? 2. Are you coming home tonight?

 Edward is locked up in some study cubicle, nose deep in a myriad of textbooks, trying to get a head start on his never-ending pile of homework and assignments, when the message comes in. He thinks of ignoring it, but to be honest, he’s been on the same problem for the past thirty minutes, he’s been at it for the past three hours and he really should take a break. Therefore, he puts his mechanical pencil down and picks up his phone to see the message.

 Message de Édouard Answers: 1. Yes? 2. Yes??

 Étienne beams from his roost on the kitchen counter upon getting the answer. He keeps swinging his legs as he taps out an answer for his roommate and then steals another sushi piece from the half-empty plastic container on the counter beside him.

 Message from Étienne (Roommate)

Excellent! I may or may not have ordered too much and figured I could share. However, if you want any, you better get home soon, or I might just finish it off by myself. (There really is a lot.) (Please save me from myself.) (Why the fuck is sushi so goddamn good?)

 Edward can’t help but chuckle. His roommate is – odd at times, but he always means well. Étienne’s good for a laugh and to be honest, he likes hanging out with him.

 His stomach growls at the idea of free food and he figures he might as well head home. He can get another hour or so done after supper. He ran out of snacks anyways.

 Edward packs his bags and then heads out, letting the cold winter air wake him up some from the stuffy study cubicle he had been in.

 --

 Edward makes it home in less than thirty minutes and lets his bag fall to the ground before removing his boots, jacket, scarf, tuque, and mittens. Of course, there’s already jazz music playing and he’s not even surprised. He’s come to associate the music with Étienne and more often than not, Edward has come home to hear it playing from some speaker, be it the one from the living room, or from Étienne’s computer in his room. It’s even gotten to the point where Edward can recognise some tunes and he’s even asked for the name of at least two songs that he actually really enjoyed. (Étienne had looked ecstatic. He’d even let him borrow the album.) (Edward hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he hadn’t liked the other tracks on it.)

 Étienne lowers the music once he sees him and waves him over to the prized container of sushi.

 “Were you expecting people over?” Edward says when he sees the multiple plastic boxes of sushi littering the counter. There are at least five and two are empty, while a third one has a decent dent in it.

 “I was really hungry and I just ordered all my favourites,” He sounds apologetic and half-guilty, like a child scolded trying to make their case for their actions. Edward laughs, amused by Étienne’s antics, and rolls his eyes. This must have cost a small fortune, but he supposes that’s not his problem.

 “That’s the worst way to order food.” He admonishes gently.

 “Do you want free sushi or not?”

 Edward mimes zipping his mouth shut and Étienne nods, pleased, and then hands over a container and motions for Edward to join him on the counter.

 Edward isn’t convinced by the idea and gives his roommate a questionable look, “You know we have perfectly good chairs and a very sturdy table. I’m sure it can hold your mountain of sushi.”

 “Shut up, Murphy; this is the only way to eat take-out sushi.” There’s a teasing grin to Étienne’s retort and Edward rolls his eyes and hops up onto the counter. Étienne seems tremendously pleased and Edward figures there’s at least that.

 “Lemme guess, you want me to eat with my hands like a heathen?”

 Étienne scoffs and nudges the chopsticks out of Edward’s reach. Edward sighs, rolls his eyes, and then picks out a sushi piece, before popping it into his mouth. He likes the variety of textures and flavours, even if he has no idea what’s in it. It’s good, is what matters, and it hits the spot.

 They eat this way for a while, tranquil, sitting on the kitchen counter, Étienne’s legs still swinging wildly, and Edward comes to agree with the fact that perhaps this is the best way to eat sushi after all.

 “You know,” Edward starts to say when they start picking at another box, “I always liked to eat the leftover sushi on the day after. When it’s a little bit hard. Is that weird?” He says it softly, as if confessing to some deep, shameful secret, but Étienne gasps and looks excited by the shared secret.

 “Me too! My sister said I was weird! I sometimes got extra just so I could have hard day old sushi!”

 A laugh bubbles out of Edward’s chest that takes hold of Étienne and they both laugh at this shared absurdity.

 “I once ordered sushi specifically to eat it the day after,” Edward ads.

 “That’s brilliant! Why didn’t I ever think of that?!”

 For as much as Étienne is a bit of an oddball, he’s also relatable to a fault at times and Edward has found a kindred spirit in him in the few months he’s been in the city.

 “There’s a place back home that’s really good. Like – really, really good. I go there every time I go back home. If ever, for some absurd reason, you’re in town, I’ll take you to it.” He knows he sounds a little hesitant and shy, but the idea of someone like Étienne coming out west to Alberta for any reason whatsoever always sounds odd to him. Étienne seems as though he’d fit best in some bohemian city and not someplace like Edmonton. Still, he can’t help but imagine, if only for a moment, what it would be like to have his friend over, but he rids his mind of such thoughts before they get the best of him.

 “Absolutely! You better! Plus you need to take me to your Butter Dish Palace and Talus Valley.”

 Edward near chokes laughing and has to hold himself from falling off the counter, “Oh my God – it’s – it’s the Butterdome and the Talus Dome. Then there’s the River Valley. They’re just silly landmarks though... well – ok the River Valley is legit, but –”

 Étienne cuts him off before he can go off, “Listen, you’ve shown me photos, you’ve mentioned them forty thousand times, I’ve brought you to the silly landmarks of this city – it’s only fair! I want to see these places with my own eyes! And then you can take me to sushi. It’s the way it’s gotta go, Murphy. I keep bringing you to bagels and other food.”

 Edward wants to argue the point, but Étienne is right. In any event, he highly doubts Étienne will actually ever come out to visit him. Still – Étienne is an unpredictable fellow, he might just surprise him.

 “All right, all right – hand over the other container now.”

 --

 Message de Eddy

Questions

1. Do you want sushi?

2. Do you plan on coming home at some point?

 Étienne looks away from his easel when he hears his phone chime. He puts down his paintbrush and stretches, before walking over to the worktable where he’s abandoned his phone. It’s been one of those days where he’s locked himself up in the studio and lost all sense of time. He’s been working on a new painting of his – something for his latest series and figured he’d use the day to get a head start. He’s been at it for hours now and his stomach growls in hunger at the idea of sushi. He knows he could use a break. It feels as though his head has been swimming in turpentine, so maybe a change of air is good.

 Message from Teddy <3

1. Always.

2. Only if you’re there as well <3

 Edward grins to himself when he gets the message from his spot on the kitchen counter. He taps out an answer on his phone and tries to rein himself in from stealing yet another piece of sushi from the already open plastic container. He could eat the rest and pretend there weren’t as many containers, but he knows better.

 Message de Eddy

Perfect. I may or may not have a large amount of sushi and I figured I could be nice and share, instead of stuffing my face in it, since you’ve been ignoring me for the past several days. Therefore, if you want any, you better get your butt here. Or I will finish these off by myself. You know I can. (Please, don’t let me do that again. It’s not worth it.)

 Étienne laughs; his partner is a gift, honestly. Edward is always good for a laugh and always knows when and how to pull him out from his intense work periods when he somehow or other manages to neglect all basic needs such as food and sleep. It’s as if he has a sixth sense for these things.

 Étienne rinses off his paintbrush and tidies up a bit. He figures he might as well take a break and call it a day. He can drive Edward crazy and work on some more coloured sketches instead, just to get a rise out of him.

 He shuts the lights and then heads out, letting the change of light and air wake him up some from the smell of paint and turpentine he had been in. (Ventilation only went so far at times, even if it hadn’t been that bad and the patio doors had been open.)

 --

 Étienne makes it home in less than three minutes and lets himself fall to the bench by the door before removing his shoes and slipping on his slippers. Of course, there’s already jazz music playing and he’s not even surprised. Edward is a giant softy and likes to set up these things for him. He’s come to associate a nice night in with the playlist of jazz music Edward has collected over the years and more often than not, Étienne has been surprised by the rather large collection Edward has garnered with time. It’s even gotten to the point where sometimes, Edward will surprise him with news about a jazz band that he used to follow once upon a time, as if Edward has kept up with them over these long years. (There have been times when Edward has informed him about bands that he no longer cares about.) (Étienne hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he didn’t follow them anymore. Edward had looked ecstatic. Étienne didn’t want to ruin that.)

 Edward hops off the kitchen counter and comes to greet him instead, before helping him over back to the counter.

 “I didn’t know we were having people over,” Étienne says as he accepts a hand from Edward to get onto the counter. There are at least six containers of sushi and one has at least a piece missing from it.

 “I just ordered our favourites and I figured you’d appreciate lunch tomorrow.” He doesn’t sound apologetic and neither does he sound guilty. Instead, he’s defiant, daring Étienne to call him out on his brilliant plan. Étienne rolls his eyes, amused, and fond by Edward’s antics. This must have cost a small fortune, but he supposes that’s not his problem.

 He shakes his head for good measure and Edward gently shoves at his shoulder.

 “Do you want free sushi or not?”

 Étienne answers by reaching over for one of the containers and offers first pick to Edward as a peace offering. Edward nods, pleased, and takes a piece he’d been eyeing since the container had arrived. He then motions for Étienne to join him.

 There are no chopsticks and there is no need for much conversation. There’s a perfectly good set of chairs and a very sturdy table they could use, but the kitchen counter makes it all the better, especially when they’re sitting at it. They’re tranquil, pleased in each other’s company and the whole setting helps enhance the flavours of the now very familiar sushi. It’s good, still, and it hits the spot.

 Étienne still swings his legs out of habit and Edward stills it with his foot for a moment, before leaning in close. Étienne stops and lets him have the moment for the time being. Even after all these years, this is still the best way to eat sushi, in his humble opinion.

 “You know,” Étienne starts to say when they start picking at another box, “Forget lunch; I’d rather have these for breakfast with you tomorrow morning.”

 Edward looks at him for a moment and then grins, soft and pleased, “There’s just something about leftover sushi on the day after.” He adds. Étienne nods and steals the next piece, before Edward can get to it.

 “Weirdo,” Étienne says, mouth full, grin wide.

 “Your weirdo.” Edward corrects.

 Étienne smiles at him, soft and sweet, and oh so very pleased. “My weirdo,” He agrees.

 “We make a good pair of weirdoes.” Edward says after a lapsed moment of silence, once they’ve slowed down on the intake of sushi.

 Étienne leans his head on his shoulder as an answer and they fall quiet once again in the knowledge of the statement. They remain seated on their kitchen counter, sushi boxes littering the place for a while longer, before they’ll get stacked away in the refrigerator, and then eaten the following morning at that strange but delicious consistency they both like. They’ll sit beside the Butterdome butter dish Edward had brought back from Edmonton that one winter and will remain hidden behind the refrigerator door filled with magnets of all the strange but wonderful landmarks of both Montréal, Edmonton and all the other wonderful and sometimes strange cities they’d visited over the years.

 It doesn’t matter what Étienne’s sister thinks, but when they’ll next head over to Edmonton for a visit, Edward knows Étienne will find another magnet to add of his favourite “Talus Valley.” They’ll stop by Kyoto, the place Edward had mentioned ages ago, like they always do when they visit together, and they’ll order too much sushi, like they always do. They’ll say they need to try other places – Étienne will go so far as to find all the worst rated places they could go to, but in the end they’ll stick to their tried and tested. There’s just something comforting in the knowledge of familiarity that they’ve both come to love with time.

 FIN

[hellyeahomeland]

“Designated Driver”: an HYH recap

Disappointingly, this episode doesn’t pick up in Carrie’s hotel room after Yevgeny kissed her goodnight. It is the next morning, and she’s speed-walking down a street in Kohat. Her good buddy Arman, whom we met in the premiere, has driven all the way from Kabul to pick her up.

She races into his truck and starts frantically writing on the first piece of paper she can find. It is a real treat to see Claire Danes’ actual handwriting! ...Wait, none of you care about that?

Anyway, Arman is like, hello wtf?? Carrie explains it’s something she heard, evidence actually, and she needs to write it down before she forgets. That’s right, Carrie fucking Mathison was DRUGGED and woke up the next morning and still could recall the crucial climactic ten seconds of that cockpit recording even though right after she shared a steamy kiss with Yevgeny. She is brilliant, and we have no choice but to continue to stan. She asks Arman to drive her to Bagram Airfield back in Afghanistan, and off they go.

In the White House, Hayes, Linus, and Zabel are meeting with the Pakistani ambassador about the rapidly escalating situation on the border. Hayes is his typical uninformed self, Zabel is his typical racist warmonger self, and Linus is his typical silent “have I been swallowed whole by an alligator yet?” self. It’s all very… depressing, to be honest. The ambassador says they’ll defend themselves with all they have if the Americans invade.

Outside the Oval, the ambassador is verging on speechless. Linus says they have to be the grown-ups in the room but suggests that maybe as a show of good faith, they could get that special ops team released from Kohat. Remember? The one that Carrie tricked Jenna into giving up last week. Linus says they are thisclose to oblivion, and I have heartburn.

Back in Pakistan, Jalal is overjoyed that the government is protecting him. Balach, his father’s closest advisor, is like “coolio dude, congrats.” Jalal asks for some advice and Balach says he should gather men and weapons and lay low. Once again, Jalal is offended at the suggestion of hiding. Instead, he asks Balach to find a target (i.e., Americans) for them to attack. Balach refuses—he’s not afraid to fight, in fact he’s been doing it as long as Jalal has been alive. But he’s also not stupid, which Jalal most certainly is. And if this show has told us anything this year, it’s that the dumbest people in the room are the most dangerous.

A few hours later (but really, what is time?) Carrie arrives at Bagram Airfield, which is apparently like an open-air farmer’s market because she just walks right in, no issue. She finds Worley. Man, this episode is making us remember! He’s the mechanic from “Chalk Two Down” who had the pregnant girlfriend and whom Carrie initially suspected of being involved in the helicopter crash. She brings him her rough transcript and asks him to translate. He’s the third person after Saul who seems to give a shit about the flight recorder but confirms what it sounded like last week: the crash was an accident. Fluke mechanical failure due to metal in the engine oil. Carrie asks why they didn’t call in to tell someone what was happening. He answers: “Aviate, navigate, communicate. They never got past step one.”

Then Carrie finally rings Saul.

Saul: Thank God, I’ve been worried sick. Carrie: It was an accident, Saul. Mechanical failure. I’m at Bagram and they just confirmed it. Saul: Jesus. We need to get you and that flight recorder back to DC ASAP. Carrie: Oh, right… I don’t have it. Yevgeny stole it from me. Saul: What’s this transcript then? Carrie: I just Rain Man’d that shit.  Saul: First, I love you. But second, we have nothing. Carrie: You are getting on my last nerve. I’ve risked my sanity, my life, and my reputation for the truth on this fucking flight recorder. I heard it. The Russians have it. These are fucking facts. Don’t tell me that’s nothing. Saul: You have zero credibility, Carrie. You’re somewhere between a rogue agent and a national security threat. Carrie: Ok, Mr. National Security Advisor. Why don’t you do something? Talk to the Russians and figure out their endgame. I’m so fucking tired. Saul: Fine. You should probably turn yourse— Carrie: [click]

At Kabul station, Mike Dunne continues to be the most annoying person alive. He whines to Jenna about Carrie showing up at Bagram, and Carrie shooting down the helicopter, Carrie giving up the special ops team last week, Carrie this, Carrie that. He’s obsessed with Carrie is my point. Jenna tries very hard to Play It Cool but her anxiety about Carrie returning back to Kabul is palpable. It’s only a matter of time before Carrie starts talking and sells Jenna down the river, too.

The show continues to bring back ALL THE MINOR CHARACTERS. Saul meets with the Russian ambassador from last season, the one who couldn’t make anything happen with Carrie’s release. He tells him about Carrie and Yevgeny and the ambassador is like “they were supposed to stay away from each other! Those crazy kids!” It’s very much two dads meeting to talk about their rebellious teenagers and just what are we gonna do about them? Saul asks for his help locating the flight recorder. He says he’ll see what he can do.

He calls Saul later and tells him the Russians don’t know squat. Which Saul knows is a lie. I mean, they both know it’s a lie. We all know it’s a lie. Saul does his best angry, menacing whisper but the ambassador just says that the Russians have what they want.

In Kabul, Carrie is amping up to go New Car Smell on Yevgeny’s ass. She suspects he’s already back in Moscow devising new ways to fuck her over, but she sneaks into his apartment looking for some evidence or clue as to his whereabouts anyway. Surprisingly, the place is completely empty. Afterward, she and Arman wait out a traffic jam in the truck.

Arman: What next? You always know what to do next. Carrie: Not this time. I’ve dug myself a gigantic hole, but I don’t see a way out. Just a few days ago there was a moment where I actually thought I’d done it. I’d won. Now look at me. God, I’m so fucked.

Suddenly, Carrie is grabbed from the truck by two men with guns and thrown into an abandoned building where Yevgeny enters.

Yevgeny: I’m sorry for the ambush. Carrie: You’ve done way worse things to me. Yevgeny: That wasn’t personal. Carrie: Fuck you, it’s always personal. Anyway, you took something from me and I want it back. What’s the price? Yevgeny: Saul asked the same thing. For him, it’s not for sale. For you, I could make a deal. Carrie: Please be less cryptic. Yevgeny: Saul’s been running an agent in the Kremlin for years. Find that agent, and I’ll give you the flight recorder. It’s the only thing worth more to my country than the US self-destructing in Pakistan. Carrie: That person doesn’t exist. Believe me, after all these years, I’d know. Saul probably just made up the story to get you all paranoid. Looks like it worked. Yevgeny: No, he exists. It’s the only explanation. Carrie: Look, even if this person existed, Saul would never give them up. It’s his first and only commandment. You never give up an asset. Yevgeny: I never said it would be easy. Carrie: It’s not that it’s not easy. It’s impossible. I’ll do anything else, but I can’t betray Saul. Yevgeny: Based on recent events, I’d say you can do just about anything.

Back at Jalal’s base, Balach says he’s found a target. He asks Jalal for some men to place an IED. Jalal wants a driver instead. That would make a statement: that they’re not afraid to die. Once again Balach worns that they’re inviting more endless war, but Jalal won’t hear it. He orders Balach to prepare the car, and he’ll find the driver.

In Kabul, Carrie and Arman are parked outside the CIA station. Saul calls Carrie again. He shares the dead end with the ambassador and asks Carrie why the Russians would lie about it. She’s silent and then lies about the meeting with Yevgeny. “I found it, Saul. The truth,” she says. But the truth isn’t much use if no one will listen.

Arman tries to dissuade her from turning herself in. He can get her to Dubai and she can hide out. But she knows that’ll only delay the inevitable, and things are about to get much, much worse. Arman senses a shift—just a few hours ago it was Bagram this, Yevgeny that. Now she seems resigned to her fate. He asks what happened with those two men. “They made me an offer, knowing I’d have to accept.” She thanks him and tearfully hugs him goodbye.

She steps out of the truck then and spots two girls playing in the street. It’s an interesting moment: is she thinking of Franny? Or herself, that fearless little girl Maggie recalled last season? We can’t know for certain, only that she ditches her phone and walks straight  up to the gate at the station and turns herself in: “I’m Carrie Mathison. I’m wanted by the FBI. I’m turning myself in.”

Inside the station, a guilty Jenna has convinced Mike to let her supervise the handover of the special ops team at the border. Then Alan reveals that Carrie just turned herself in. There’s an extended sequence in which

Jenna looks like she’s about to throw up

Mike looks practically giddy at the recent development

Carrie looks like she wants to strangle every single useless person in the building

Balach is overseeing the assembly of the car bomb and notices that Jalal is sharing some food with his two young sons. He asks what the hell is going on and then Jalal tells him that he’s found the driver for the attack: him. Balach refuses.

Jalal: Fine, I’ll just kill your wife and sons anyway. Then I’ll kill you. It’s what my father would have done. Balach: Don’t hurt them. Jalal: They’re the family of a coward who wouldn’t agree with all of my dumb ideas! Balach: I can’t believe how completely terrible you are. Jalal: Look at it this way: you can drive this car and die a martyr. Then your family will be treated with honor. Or you can refuse and you’ll all die. Balach: Give me your word that they’ll be taken care of.

Jalal just nods.

In Interrogation Room #1, Jenna enters to give Carrie some water but it’s Jenna so she’s not able to hide her true motives for long.

Carrie: This little dance we’ve been doing all season has been amusing but it pays off now. Jenna: What? Also what the hell are you doing here? Carrie: I’m turning myself in. Jenna: Why now? By the way, the special ops team that you tricked me into giving up is being freed. Remember them? All that bullshit about a flight recorder— Carrie: It wasn’t bullshit. Jenna: Everything that comes out of your mouth is bullshit. Carrie: Just say what you came in here to say. Jenna: Are you going to give me up? Because I was dumb enough to trust you? Carrie: No. Jenna: How can I know you won’t? Carrie: I thought we already went over this. You can’t know anything for sure. If you’re looking for guarantees, you’re really in the wrong line of work. But I just promised you. Your bosses here will never know you were involved, and that’ll have to be good enough. Jenna: I lovehate you. You still put me in a terrible position. Carrie: Maybe I did. But in my own fucked up way I ended up teaching you a lesson. On the other hand, I have actual problems. And if this is the guiltiest you ever feel, consider yourself lucky. Now go, before the FBI catches you talking to a ~Russian spy~.

Vanessa Kroll—remember her, she’s the I Mean Business FBI investigator from “Two Minutes”—steps into the interrogation room for her turn. Jenna and Mike observe from behind the one-way mirror. She begins to lay out the facts in front of Carrie. Well, I should say “facts.” They’re really just statements about Carrie’s behavior, as told from another vantage point, that make her look really guilty. Carrie plays at the improbability of it all. Carrie singlehandedly convinced Beau Bridges to come to Kabul, then passed off the info to the Russians who passed it off to the Taliban who just happened to be waiting with an RPG.

Carrie is in deep shit and she knows it, but she is remarkably articulate and reminds everyone that she doesn’t fucking work for them and she can talk or engage with anyone she fucking pleases to, thankyouverymuch.

Vanessa: Not when you’re providing aid and comfort to the enemy. Carrie: If you’re talking about Yevgeny Gromov, it’s more like he provided aid and comfort to me. Sara: 😏 Carrie: Anyway, I want a lawyer. Vanessa: Fine, then you’re under arrest. Carrie: Peachy.

In the next room, Jenna is maximum confused. It’s almost like Carrie wanted to be arrested, which obviously begs the question of what she has planned when she gets back to America. Mike continues to possess a quarter of a brain cell and is all, weren’t you going to the border or something or other?

In Saul’s office, Linus gives him the lay of the land. Carrie has just invoked Saul in her defense, and he’s now on a fast track to the same amount of credibility that Carrie herself has: that is to say, zero. They bought some time with the release of that ops team but continuing to give Carrie cover is really bad optics. Saul reveals the whole deal with the flight recorder. Then he admits it’s pretty much all his fault. He was there when she was returned back from the Russians. She didn’t even recognize him. And he took her out of treatment when he knew she wasn’t ready, because there was a job to do and he asked nicely. He can’t turn his back on her now.

The episode closes with an incredibly-edited sequence. While Carrie is escorted out of Kabul station in handcuffs, Jenna arrives at the border where no one knows why she’s there or seems to give a shit.

Meanwhile, Balach approaches in the car and records a video for his wife, soon to be a widow. He’s going to die and he’s been preparing for that reality his whole life. He asks her to forgive him and to make sure that Jalal keeps his word about protecting them, lest he meet the fate of a vengeful God.

Carrie and Vanessa board an airplane headed back for Washington. Carrie struggles with her seatbelt before the zip ties around her wrists are removed. The bus with the special ops team pulls up to the border and the crew sits inside, waiting for the go-ahead. Balach readies the bomb. Carrie’s plane taxis, she exchanges looks with Vanessa. Everything gets very quiet. 

Then Balach starts driving.

He speeds toward the border as soldiers scatter. Someone grabs Jenna and she ducks behind another vehicle. The team in the bus stare out the window. “Move the fucking bus!” they yell. They are sitting ducks as Balach heads straight toward them. The soldiers on the ground fire rounds and rounds at Balach, missing each time. The driver of the bus hurries out, saves himself. Everyone stares as they prepare for the inevitable. Balach screams, moments away from oblivion. His crying sons flash through his mind. He’s doing this for them, remember? He’s giving himself up for them. Then: a crash, an explosion, a flash of white.

Carrie’s plane lifts off. There’s a look of resolve in her eyes as she stares out the window at this place. This place where she fled to escape her grief, so many years ago. This place where, more recently, she fled to escape her trauma. Now she’s leaving and never coming back. Is she a martyr, too? Has she given herself up, for her family, for Saul? Or is it the reverse? Is she about to give them up? She’s exploded her life, in her own way. I would rather you say I was dead. Darkness.

[thevagueambition]

5 video games! :D

okay I AM going to ramble way too much about each of them haha ;;

the top 3: 

Disco Elysium: I firmly believe the innovations of Disco Elysium are going to affect the future of non-combat-focused RPGs quite a bit. It captures, better than any other video game I’ve played, the non-combat elements of pen & paper roleplaying. It’s so responsive to how you choose to play your character and the idea of thoughts as essentially euipment that gives affects your stats... it’s fucking brilliant. It’s the exact sort of game I love, mechanically, and of course story-wise it’s also very well-written -- if also VERY Old East Bloc Depression(tm) in its disillusioned marxism and the occasional sort of failed ironic sexism -- and the way it used an outside character to motivate the player to act in a certain way/to work as essentially a morality meter and how well that works because everyone loves Kim is also just... brilliant. I love Disco Elysium so much. Even if you don’t normally play games, please play Disco Elysium. The first time I played it I died 2 minutes in because I had put my endurance stat so low that when I failed a roll to grab my tie I died. I love it so much. 

Dragon Age II: The Dragon Age series was a huge part of what got me into gaming in a more... shall we say deliberate sense. I had always played games growing up, but mostly either as a social activity or on a handheld. Dragon Age: Origins was my first “serious” game, so to speak, and I love it a lot to, but Dragon Age II is the one that really owns my ass. I know part of it is when I played it and its role in me figuring out my sexuality -- Dragon Age II is just a group of Disaster Bisexuals with an asexual dad friend and a straight mom friend thrown in for colour -- but certainly also both as a story and in terms of how it did dialogue I also really love it. There’s a real feeling of cammaraderie with the characters and the fact that you essentially play as a refugee is a really interesting way to be positioned within the world. I think, more so than the other Dragon Age games, in making you take on a specific role within the fictional society, you get to roleplay in a much more meaningful way imo since where so many RPG characters are positioned a bit outside society because they’re some sort of chosen one, in Dragon Age II, Hawke is, at least for some of the game, Just Some Weirdo, subject to the same societal rules as everyone else. 

Frostpunk: So, shifting from RPGs to citybuilders, Frostpunk is my favourite citybuilder/management game. My brain finds these types of games incredibly soothing, balancing production with what is needed, managing production chains, setting things up just so... it’s the exact sort of thing that occupies and quiets my mind. Unfortunately, a lot of games like this run into issues in the end-game because at a certain point there isn’t really more to build towards, or maybe building towards it goes so slowly that it ceases to be interesting, etc... Frostpunk escapes those issues by being campaign-based, with a set amount of time to get everything up and running smoothly, with various events and goals throughout. I don’t know why, but a lot of other citybuilders just feel annoying when they set specific goals or use a campaign approach, but for Frostpunk it really works. Actually, where the endless mode is usually the better one in citybuilders, in Frostpunk, the campaigns are definitely better. Maybe it’s a difference of where the focus was put, idk. Frostpunk is also an Old East Bloc Depression game lol, idk if those hold special appeal to me or if it’s just a coincidence. 

Other two:

Sunless Sea: It took me a long time to actually get into this one since it has a pretty steep learning curve and is very unforgiving if you fuck up (ie a roguelike). Still, the core mechanic of sailing around discovering different ports, picking up different goods, progressing different stories... it works.  It’s interesting, how in the beginning so much of your energy is focused on learning to bring the correct amount of fuel and rations for a trip, but once you learn it/have enough money that you can overstock, the focus becomes an entirely different one. It essentially becomes planning out voyages, I found myself sometimes writing down what my plan was between sessions since accomplishing things often takes quite a few trips to different ports. I like the world, as well, the sort of ... absurdist take on a steampunk-ish, Lovecraftian-ish setting. It was super satisfying, finally having discovered most of what there is to discover in it, although given that the discovery of new places, characters and stories in the world is sort of what drives it, it also means that I’m not super likely to go back to it any time soon. 

Darkest Dungeon: Listen I just like some good turn-based combat. This one is actually similar to Sunless Sea in terms of 1) being a roguelike 2) having Lovecraftian-themes, although Darkest Dungeon certainly takes itself a lot more seriously than Sunless Sea does. I think the really cool thing about Darkest Dungeon, though, is how it makes you really care about these people you’re sending into battle by giving them little quirks, letting them experience stress and having them react to that, etc. It’s not actually, from a purely mechanical standpoint, disasterous when you lose one of them, but often you’ve beome very emotionally invested in your favourites and it truly DOES become a thing where you hurry to flee if you’re doing badly because you don’t want to lose them. 

[siribear]

she exhales and watches her breath cloud in front of her. northern winters are colder than she’s used to, even with her heavy coat and several layers. and out walks nate, finally, with her cup of hot coffee and his own cup of what she just knows is hot cocoa.

‘sorry,’ he says. ‘long line.’

she presses a kiss to his cold cheek. in her letter, she had said she hadn’t visited this coffee shop. too out of the way when the campus coffee shop is right there. his return letter was short, simple, gave them their second date when he took his next leave: i’ll take you there. promise.

the coffee is heaven. enough to drink for the taste instead of just the caffeine.

‘you were right. you were so right. i can’t believe i’ve been missing this - ’ she looks at him over her paper coffee cup. ‘ - nate?’

he’s pale. steam rises from his hot cocoa fallen on the sidewalk. when she holds her hand against his cheek, it’s even colder than before. his skin is ice under her fingers, frozen.

red spreads across his coat, onto her hands, and no one hears her as she screams -

-

‘ - nate!’

alice curls in on herself, nails clawing at the wooden floor under her. dogmeat whines, low, and pushes his head under her arm.

‘i’m okay, boy,’ she whispers, combing fingers through his fur. ‘just a nightmare.’ dogmeat whines again.

just a nightmare - until she hears a baby crying somewhere in the house. maybe a baby abernathy they tried to keep secret? alice can’t blame them. but when the crying continues and none of the family wakes, alice takes it upon herself to see to the noise. her canine companion isn’t happy about his sleep being interrupted, but he pads after her anyway.

instead of a baby, she finds the family cat clawing at the front door, crying to be let out. alice scoops the poor thing into her arms and sits on the nearby couch.

a shuffle from the back room announces lucy, who greets her around a yawn. ‘sorry, we’re used to her whining. maisie here is just used to being outside all the time, but we don’t let her go out at night. because, well - ’

‘absolutely too dangerous,’ alice finishes for her, scratching under maisie’s chin. her purrs vibrate through alice’s chest.

lucy watches the two of them for a moment. ‘are you really with the minutemen?’

maisie moves to curl up in lucy’s lap, who begins petting her absentmindedly.

‘i am.’

the younger girl leans toward her, pitches her voice low, and says, ‘do you think i could be one?’

alice blinks. ‘do you want to be one?’

‘yes! don’t get me wrong, i love my parents, but i want to travel. they barely let me go to diamond city anymore.’

she doesn’t want to mention mary. ‘when we rebuild the minutemen, the commonwealth will be safer. then maybe your parents will let you travel more.’

lucy frowns. ‘i know.’ she sighs as dramatically as she can for two in the morning with her parents sleeping in the other room. ‘i know. but, ugh. anyway. stay here.’ she stands up suddenly, spilling maisie onto the floor. the cat swishes its tail and moves to another room. lucy returns soon after, a folded piece of paper in hand. ‘you’ll go to diamond city long before i do, so can you do me a favor?’

‘another favor?’ alice grins. ‘how many caps is this one worth?’

‘five.’ lucy rolls her eyes and puts the paper in her hands. ‘can you make sure this reaches a guy named hawthorne? please? he’s a mercenary, you can’t miss him.’

‘oh, i see why you wanted to go to diamond city.’

the younger girl blushes in the dim moonlight. ‘you’re the only one i can trust with this.’

alice stops herself from ruffling the girl’s already mussed up hair. ‘i’ll take it to him.’ she unzips a pocket on her jacket and slips it inside. ‘and your secret is safe with me.’

without warning, lucy throws herself at alice, wrapping her up in a quick hug. ‘you are the coolest, i swear.’

‘sure, kid,’ she says, just to see her bristle. this time, she does ruffle her hair. ‘now - where did those raiders go that took your sister’s locket?’

lucy points the area out on her pipboy, and alice marks it on the map. the satellite station is only a few hours east of concord, but she isn’t sure what she’ll run into on the way there.

‘you aren’t leaving now, are you?’ lucy asks when alice makes to stand.

‘what? no. i enjoy sleeping in.’ alice makes a show of yawning.

‘okay.’ lucy stands. ‘i don’t believe you,’ she says, flat. then, ‘there’s some food and water by the door. i put it together when you went to sleep. good luck, alice.’ she returns to the back room, leaving alice with a wink.

true to her word, alice finally notices the small pile of supplies near the door. she sighs and watches the cloud dissipate before heading back to her own bed. dogmeat joins her for the extra hour of sleep she can manage, before she slips out of the house long before dawn.

-

dogmeat isn’t happy about being told to return to sanctuary. ‘everyone needs that food, boy,’ she tries to explain. to a dog. ‘the sooner the better.’ dogmeat shakes his head again, jostling the small pouch of seeds around his neck. ‘dogmeat,’ she tries again, voice stern.

finally, he gives her the dog-version of a grumble and separates from her and codsworth at red rocket.

‘ah, the open road again, mum,’ codsworth says as they turn left away from concord. ‘did you sleep well? my sensors say it’s just after four in the morning.’

alice pops open a can of water and downs half of it. ‘well enough. i’m counting on you, though, codsworth.’

‘have no fear, mum. together, we can tackle anything.’

she has to laugh at his optimism, but she finds herself truly smiling all the same.

-

together, they make their way to the satellite station olivia. it seems the whole commonwealth is still asleep. not even the mutated fauna bothers them as they walk the treeline, avoiding roads. codsworth hums a tune without a melody, just enough to fill the silence without making too much noise.

alice checks her pipboy to make sure they’re still heading the right direction, and makes a note about the quarry they pass by. just as she’s about to put the screen back to sleep, she notices a tab labeled radio.

she tunes in to the frequency for diamond city radio, surprised when music she knows from before warbles through the small speakers. ‘music survived,’ she whispers, listening as the ink spots croon on the station.

it makes the trip that much faster, and she smiles the whole way.

-

dawn breaks as she crouches behind a group of dead trees to spy on their location. ahead, a set of metal stairs leading to a lofted room; below that, a wooden shack; and a separate, concrete building with a raider dosing off in the window, their back to her.

‘flank them,’ alice whispers to codsworth, motioning for him to go to the opposite side of the fence. she waits until she sees his floating form across the way, then moves in.

the first raider she finds sleeping in the wooden shack. she slits his throat with his own knife. the second raider wakes enough to approach the shack, and alice presses herself against the wall. she watches codsworth float by the window and cleave the raider in two with the buzzsaw.

alice takes a deep breath and exhales.

no one else makes themselves known, and when they investigate the upper room, all they find is a bunch of scrap and a baseball bat. the scrap she stuffs in her bag for sturges to strip for parts. the bat she leaves.

inside the actual station doesn’t go near as smoothly. first: she barely avoids crossing a laser tripwire, disabling it and sighing at the electrical trap above her head. second: she and codsworth are noticed the moment they enter the larger room downstairs. third: one of the raiders has a minigun.

alice spends the majority of the firefight ducked behind large computer consoles, taking potshots as codsworth distracts the raiders with his flamethrower. two go down before they find her hiding spot, and then she’s pinned by minigun fire.

ironic.

bullets ping off the computer towers by her head. some chip away the metal, making way for others to take chunks out of her cover.

‘codsworth,’ alice calls. one eye swivels her direction. ‘cover me!’

‘right away, mum!’ he charges in, turning the flamethrower on the closest raider. she flails, pats the cloth of her armor, but codsworth doesn’t let up. alice moves closer, just in time to watch the raider’s skin go black and charred. dead.

‘you fucking metal fuck,’ growls the last raider with the minigun. codsworth rushes forward despite the gunfire.

‘i don’t bleed, you know,’ he taunts. but then his movement slows, and parts of his metal chassis are blown across the room from the force of the onslaught.

his buzzsaw slices the raider on the arm before she slams the barrel of the gun into him, sending him flying across the room.

‘god damnit. where did you go, little girl?’ the raider drops the minigun for a pistol, favoring her injured arm.

alice vaults the table she hit behind and uses her momentum to knock the raider off balance.

if you’re too close, use the butt of your gun like this -

she smashes the butt of her pistol into the raider’s face. more blood curls around her fingers as she looks up at alice. the raider raises her pistol to fire, but alice is quicker.

- just might save your life.

the sound of mechanical twitching carries her to codsworth.

‘codsworth, hun, you okay?’

‘r-r-right as r-rain, mum,’ he stutters. he can’t sound like he’s in pain, but she knows some kind of mechanism got knocked loose. she looks at the scattered pieces of metal across the floor. shot off, more like.

one robotic eye blinks at her.

‘can you... move?’

his hover jet sputters and lifts him off the ground for a second before he falls back to the floor.

‘i’m afraid not. b-b-but i know you’ll be just fine on your own, mum. brilliant work taking down that raider.’

‘you did most of the work,’ she mutters. then, ‘wait, what do you mean on my own?’

‘i d-d-don’t think i’ll be leaving this floor, miss alice.’

‘that wasn’t an option, codsworth. codsworth?’

his one eye closes, and he doesn’t respond.

[thewolfisawake]

Critical Role

Favorite character:

In CR1, Percy and Scanlan. And gonna sound so hipster but I did legitimately like Percy prior to the Briarwood arc. I liked his place as the more subdued person that didn’t need fanfare for his support. And then I was scared and intrigued when he was more...forthcoming in that arc since he was quieter before (I think I read this was also because Taliesin was bit shy starting out but got comfortable). And Scanlan, was the man I shed tears for because I kept crying ‘oh god, someone please notice. Someone HELP HIM.’ They both had some serious gut punches and their stories did shift the dynamics (of the story and the party respectively) permanently. They are also great support and yet also had some amazing solos. 

In CR2, Caleb and Fjord. I just like me some sad boys apparently. I think Caleb’s bumbling and trying to do right but struggling with doing what’s good for you so painfully relatable. As of writing this, I haven’t caught up yet but I’ve seen him make such leaps and bounds in terms of letting people in and being a support to others. I also think mechanically he’s a show of how the drawbacks like his fear can make for good moments. As for Fjord, he’s just in general how I think a moral compass or herder character can be done without irritating both the player and viewer. I mean morals of this cast is more wonky but in general Fjord seems to put forward a general ‘we all get through this’ and respect towards the team. 

Least Favorite character:

In CR1, Keyleth. And no, it’s got nothing to do with Marisha. She’s cool. I honestly felt bad for her because Keyleth had to pick up the moral slack whenever Pike wasn’t there, which was often. Some of her best moments were when she had to draw the hard line. But it was far outweighed with having this moral high horse for some reason even though they promptly do something just as low down as the ones she looked down on. Also, I feel it’s hard to do a character that is naive but also very likable so again, sorry for Marisha. 

In CR2, I like so many but I’ll go with Mollymauk. And it was a bit of a shame because he was like the one person I heard so much about. I did like that he was the one that tended to push into some of the best shenanigans I’ve listened to. However, he was just fine. There wasn’t much to push him into love him so much nor much to say I dislike him. I’m a little disappointed of not being able to know what his deal was I guess was what I would choose if I have to say what made him least favorite. 

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon):

Vax’limore - Their interactions just oozed banter and playfulness. There was no intro to how that this happened, it just jumps into their flirtations. And it was that cute banter and the real ‘I’d do anything for you, my friend’ that ended up hurting seeing Gilmore have his heart strings pulled as they did. Like if you love him, let him go. For real. Don’t dangle it in front of him like that. 

Pike/Percy - Weird thought but I thought it was pretty clear that Pike liked Percy. Everyone sees her as a stalwart beacon but she still has wants and falls off from time to time. But she tries. And she saw something within Percy that was dark and I don’t think it was necessarily ‘I want to fix him’ but ‘I want to save him.’ And Percy find a light in Pike like many do but also seeing her as just Pike.  

Perc’ahlia - I mean, it’s canon. Thing is that I can’t pinpoint a moment when it began. Just that it happened and that felt okay. I think they’re both maniacs in their own right and it’s kind of cute how they indulge each other’s passion/excitement. Gifts feels like Percy’s love language and he shows it so much in how he tinkers for Vex and her glee in what new way she can fuck shit up is enough for him. And also it’s really delicious the parallel with them and the Briarwoods and Laura has stated that if Percy had died died, that it was possible Vex end up the same kind of menace Delilah was. 

Vex/Zahra - In some other life, they would have been the femme fatale couple. All of their interactions were enjoyable and they so clearly enjoy each other. Just looking over and it’s the eyes with them.

Widobrave - Partners in crime. I think that their dynamic isn’t simple and that’s what’s so interesting. They see each other as someone to protect and don’t exactly see how the other views them as the one to be protected. And they have ‘without question’ sort of trust in each other and are genuinely awed and so happy when they witness one do something great. It gets sad with more of their backstory. And it gets me that both immediately felt guilty for keeping it a secret from them. Not the entire party, their partner. They both have seen past appearances and see the strength, the zaniness and the brilliance the other possesses and I can’t wait to get to more of their moments. 

Character I find most attractive:

CR1: Gilmore. My god he was gorgeous. Vax why did you just walk away from that? Raishan. Look, she was hot and smart and even if she fell eventually, she made the most of when she was there. 

CR2: Cali is so frickin’ adorable. Like she’s so cute and hey, if not for the whole cult chasing her thing, it’d be nice to stick around and sightsee. I am also a ‘Jester is really cute’ person.

Character I would marry:

I don’t really think there’s anyone I’d actually--well, I think maybe Pike because stronk lady that can get into mischief with but at the same time just be able to be content with.

No one in this campaign so far. 

Character I would be best friends with:

I would LIKE to be friends with Cassandra because everyone continues to ignore how this woman has been tormented and then thrust into very important position. All while harboring guilt for what she had to do to survive. The girl needs a break and I’m here with a blanket and some tea.

I would like to be friends with Nott actually. She’s really cool and I think it’s fun to let her be her zany self. 

a random thought:

So who is really credited as the inventor of firearms, Percy, who did technically make it, or Ripley, who is the one that sold the schematics to make them mass-produced? 

Is there just an abundance of mysterious magic ladies in Wildemount or what? 

An unpopular opinion:

Scanlan deserved his anger and feelings of being unappreciated. Even if he was brought back, it does not lessen that there was uncertainty nor the lack of respect towards his body. Vox Machina had gotten cocky and it drove one of their members away. Vex and Vax were the only ones that took Scanlan’s frustration to heart and did not mess up with Tary for that reason. Also Tary was a parallel of the worst of the party, which is why most of them couldn’t stand him. 

The small races are not fucking children. I don’t get why they get called children or thought of like that. They’re just short, goddammit!

My Canon OTP:

CR1: Perc’ahlia for above reasons.

CR2: None to be seen so far?

My Non-canon OTP:

CR1: Because I’m hella fucked up, I am enamored by the thought that Percy had a crush on Ripley. Because she paid attention to him, one of the younger and less interesting of his family. And to him she was brilliant and she took advantage of that, which is how he survived or why they got in. And Percy never forgot or forgave her. 

CR2: “And they were roommates” “oh god they were roommates.” * whispers * I kind of liked Fjord and Molly. They felt like foils that were amicable with each other aaaaannndddd actually had nice interactions? 

Most Badass Character:

CR1: NO MERCY PERCY

CR2: Shakaste is pretty awesome and Khary Payton is awesome. 

Most Epic Villain:

CR1: Raishan. Like I wish she could’ve been a bigger villain but alas the dice were not on her side. I think her arc was the most interesting as she was the true threat in the party’s eyes despite there being a dragon terraforming their home. 

CR2: At this point? There hasn’t been a major villain for the party.  

Pairing I am not a fan of:

I don’t really have anything I can’t ship in this one.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another):

Can’t really say anyone ‘screwed up’ since this is a lot of improv and all that. So I guess miss chances I think would only really be Molly since y’know, he’s dead. 

Favourite Friendship:

CR1: Pike & Grog - They’re Best Buddies, y’all. I can’t get over how much they just pal around like that’s just the usual for them. And technically it is. They can go get wasted together and then kick ass after. It’s just the casualness of their relationships and how much respect and lack of reverence that I like. Pike is just Pike to Grog so he finds no reason to hold back or hold her as a light unlike the rest of the party. But he does want to do good by her because she’s his friend and he doesn’t want to disappoint her. And Pike never insults Grog’s intellect and actively works to help him improve and deflects the party’s remarks of how he is. 

CR2: Empire Kids - They’ve come a long way from their seats of mistrust and standoff-ishness. I think there was a post that put it best that they’re ‘learning how to human.’ And because they both are at the same point of it, they are struggling together. As a result they’ve come to lean on each other to keep themselves from going to far. They’re not perfect but they’re trying to keep this found family of theirs together. 

Character I most identify with:

CR1: Keyleth. Being the one to try to keep people together or on the straight on narrow isn’t easy. It sucks and I’m not usually the person that should do it but here I am.

CR2: Caleb. I am very off-beat and odd but I do want to have friends and the like....just not stellar at showing that...

Character I wish I could be:

I mean, this is D&D where awesome shit goes on all the time. So anyone I guess?

[cryptidswrite]

Reckless Abandon

Pairing: Jeongguk x Reader

Genre: angst mostly, a teeny bit of fluff, overwatch au, one shot + epilogue

Warnings: hella geeky with a touch of violence

Word Count: 3,976

Description: Jeongguk is Busan’s pride and joy. He protects the city from all enemies; omnic and talon alike. His face is plastered on every billboard and every street corner. You can’t even drink a can of soda without feeling like he’s watching you. The glitz and glamour he receives is endlessly irritating to you, his mechanic. When will he wake up and see that there's more important things than fame?

Author’s Note: D.va’s animated short had me feeling some type of way. So this is pretty much based off of that. Thanks, Blizzard. If only they’d make a kpop idol D.va skin. Only then will all my dreams have come true. This is my second attempt at truly writing a fic so bare with me.

“Former ESports Champion turned meka pilot, Jeon Jeongguk has done it again! Just last week he risked his life to save Busan from the Keishun ominics. At just 20 years old, he’s become South Korea’s star in the line of defense. Quick to respond to the surprise attack, Jeon and the meka squad were -”

You click off the holovideo with a roll of your eyes and pick up a clean rag to wipe of your greasy face. Rummaging through your tools, you scoff at the latest headlines. Here you are fixing up his mech from the previous week’s battle. He’s all but killed your poor baby, Bunny. The name is lame, you know and Jeongguk reminds you often. Watching how the mech bounces through the battlefields, you feel the name suits her well. So, you’ve lovingly named her Bunny. You nearly took off his head when he brought her back for repairs. The right fusion cannon had been entirely blown off, meaning you had to build a new one from scratch.

Did he care that building that cannon had caused you two sleepless nights? You doubt he’d care much if he knew. He’d probably say “Suck it up, buttercup. The enemy waits for no one.” So you grabbed your wrench and you sucked it up. As much as you hate to say it, the city does depend on him. Hell, the country kind of depends on him. It seems like too much for any one person.

You sigh and hoist yourself inside the mech to finish repairing the inside control panel. You and Jeongguk have been friends for as long as you can remember. It’s funny how you were once modifying his hoverboard when you were kids and now you’re fixing his mech as he comes home from yet another battle. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t worried about him. The boy, who was once carefree and blithe, now shoulders the responsibility of protecting an entire nation. You don’t know how he does it and honestly, you wish he didn’t have to.

Jeongguk taps on the thick glass of Bunny’s windshield. You were so immersed in the control panel, you didn’t hear him come in. Why is he here? You furrowed your brows at him as you opened the back hatch of the mech.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out taking pictures with your fans or something?” You say, sounding a little more bitter than you had intended.

He sighs, “Don’t be like that, y/n. The fame thing is annoying and overrated. I’ve told you a thousand times.”

“Whatever. Really though, I told you I’d call you when I’m done with repairs and updates. She’s nowhere near ready. I need at least another week.”

“Another week?” he whines, “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance and move to get out of the mech. He holds out his hand as an offer to help you down and you take it. “Guk, what’s the rush? The Keishun probably won’t attack for at least another couple of months. You really need a break,”

“You know I can’t take a break. We barely won last time. The enemy is out there evolving and finding ways to become stronger. I have to stay a few steps ahead of them. My squad, this city, the country… They need me at my best. We can’t afford to lose. If I lose, than we lose everything. I’m not going to risk that.”

“Stopping putting all of this on yourself. Asking for help doesn’t make you weak. You’re only human, Jeon.”

He shrugs and says, “I know. I’ve got this.”

You know he’s not listening to what you’re saying. You sigh and give up on scolding him. It’s an old fight, you know it will come up again. He’s always worried about everyone else and never himself. It makes you so angry you could scream, but you won’t. Having been his friend for so long, you should probably learn to accept his fearless martyr attitude. But why should you have to accept it? It’s entirely unfair. While he’s off worrying about the rest of the world, someone needs to worry about him.

You turn your back to him and grab the large cable laying on the ground. You plug it into the main computer that programs the mech. You need to push this matter aside and focus on running program tests for Bunny.

“Can you please get in the mech and see if the right arm has decent mobility?” You say gently, without looking at him. You know that if you look at him right now, you might cry out of frustration and that will upset him. He has enough on his plate without worrying about you too.

“Alright.”

Once you hear the closing clicks from the back hatch of the mech, you allow yourself to turn around. The mech immediately comes to life around him and he’s fully focused on the task at hand. He does as you say and moves the right arm through a full range of motions. Somehow, he looks the most natural inside the mech. You can’t explain it.

Maybe it’s because you’re so used to seeing him in the mech. Somehow, it’s almost like Bunny has become a part of him. Maybe it’s the fluid way he pilots the mech. There’s never a hiccup or pause between his thoughts and the mech’s movements. He’s really an incredible pilot, you must admit. He never fails to leave you in awe. You’d never tell him this though. His ego is already much too big for your liking.

“She’s moving better than ever. The arm even feels lighter! How’d you do it?” He turns the mech towards you, excitement radiating through his smile. You can’t help but grin back, feeling your chest swell with pride. He did recognize your hard work.

“I’m glad you’ve noticed. I wanted to experiment with using carbon fiber material instead of the steel we have been using. It’s much lighter, but just as strong. We’ll see how this one holds up in battle and then I might replace the left cannon with the same material.”

He ejects himself from the mech to closer inspect the fusion cannon. Running his fingers along the bright green paint, he turns to you with a grin.

“This is fucking incredible, y/n. Do you know how much faster I can move? Imagine a whole meka made of this stuff. We’d be lethal!”

You laugh, “You already are lethal, but yeah. That’s the end goal. Even with just the cannons replaced, it’ll tone down the overall bulk of the mech. I’ve also been working on ways to narrow down the spread of the cannons so you can be more precise with your aim.”

“You really are brilliant, you know that?”

You smirked, “Obviously. You’d be screwed without me.”

“Honestly, I would be.”

You move around him and climb back into the mech. “Okay. Enough of the sappy shit, Jeon. Bunny and I have tests to finish running.”

“I can help, you know. It is my mech after all.”

You open your mouth to argue, but something on the computer monitor caught your eye. That can’t be right… An incoming enemy? You get out of the mech, scrambling to get a better look. The monitor flashes blood red and you can hear the shrill city sirens go off, signaling for the people of Busan to take cover. Four aircrafts are making their way towards the meka base.

“No, no, no. It’s too early. They attacked just last week. How do they have more omnics ready?”

Jeongguk had already pulled the heavy cable from Bunny and locked himself inside. His headset was on and he began checking each system to prepare for take off.

“Guk, no! Y-you're not ready. I’ll call the rest of the team. You have to sit this one out!” You say firmly, stepping in front of Bunny.

“We can’t wait for backup, y/n. The omnics will be in the city by then. I can’t let that happen. I’m going.” He looks at you fiercely and from that one look you know that you’ll never be able to talk him out of it. You feel your heart break as you step aside for him take off.

Soundlessly, you sit down at the monitor and slip on your headset. If he’s going to be an idiot and charge into battle, than you’re going to be there to talk him through it. There’s no way in hell you’re going to just sit on the sidelines and watch him get hurt. You quickly pull the radar onto the screen to find the direction the Keishun are heading.

“It looks like they’re heading north, towards Suyeong-gu.” Your voice cracks slightly as you say this.

If he recognized the hesitance in your words, he didn’t show it. “I’m on it. Boosters engaged!” He calls.

Without even a glance, he takes off from the meka base and toward the Keishun. You kept telling yourself not to cry. You have to stay focused right now, you don’t have time to cry. You pulled the mech’s dash camera on to the screen, this way you could see exactly what he sees. You also pulled up a screen from the mecha hud, in order to monitor Jeongguk’s vitals.

You watched as he soared through the sky. The enemy’s small dots on the radar grew closer and closer to Bunny’s. The aircrafts took form before the camera on the dash. They’re much smaller than you had expected, about half the size of a jet. However, you knew better than anyone not to dismiss the omnic based on the size of the aircraft. The body of the craft is flat and triangular with four cord like appendages spinning behind it. As stupid as it sounds, it reminds you a little of a mechanical squid.

The omnics spot Jeongguk immediately and aim a barrage of missiles toward him. The missiles streak through the sky at an unforgiving speed, but Jeongguk was a step ahead.

“Activating Defense Matrix.” You hear his voice through your headset, tone calm and even.

The missiles soar into the matrix and explode meters away from their obvious target. Jeongguk gave them no time to react before flying into an attack of his own. He wove through the sky and aimed his micro missiles at the nearest omnic, effectively removing it from the battle. The remaining three went separate ways; One retreating, one racing towards the meka base, and the last flew straight towards the city.

“Watch it, Guk! They��re splitting up.” You warn, voice tense.

“I see it!” He calls as he races toward the omnic retreating.

You don’t care what Jeongguk said, you’re calling Jimin for backup. You quickly type in the code to have the meka base system send for help. You pray Jimin will make it there in time.

 Bunny caught up to the enemy in mere seconds. Jeongguk flew above the omnic and shot it down from above. ‘Two down, two to go.’, you thought. Maybe you shouldn’t have signaled for Jimin to come. Just as you thought that, the Keishun omnic that was headed toward the base flipped around and headed straight for Bunny.

“Jeongguk! Behind you!” You cry, feeling your heart jump into your throat..

Caught of guard, he turned Bunny around just to be thrown in the midst of the enemy’s missile attack. He didn’t have enough time to activate his Defense Matrix, he’d have to try and dodge the oncoming missiles. He swerved sharply to the right, but he wasn’t fast enough to save Bunny’s left arm.

“Dammit.” He growled through clenched teeth. He aims for the Keishun using only his right fusion cannon. His bullets caught the enemy’s craft and the omnic fell from the sky.

“Y/n. Where’s the last one?”

“He’s headed toward the city. You’ll have to hurry.”

Jeongguk whipped the mech towards the city and sped off, pushing Bunny as fast as she could go. You could hear his bated breaths through the headset and his pleas for Bunny to make it there in time. Your chest felt tight and you thought you were going to puke. You gripped the desk fiercely, knuckles white, in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

With the last omnic in sight, Bunny unleashed an array of missiles and bullets toward the enemy. You’ve never seen Jeongguk miss a shot, never, but this time he missed. Something definitely feels off. You check Bunny’s hud for Jeongguk’s vitals and run a quick damage report on Bunny. Jeongguk is fine, but he had pushed Bunny too hard. Her boosters are beginning to fail, which is causing the mech to drag.  

“Guk, Jimin should be on-” The remaining omnic took you both by surprise. It turns it’s aim from the city and races toward Guk’s mech. He raises Bunny’s right fusion cannon to aim, but it’s too late. The omnic slams into Bunny and wraps it’s four tentacle-like arms around them. Jeongguk tries to aim the right fusion cannon towards the omnic, but the omnic was too strong and snapped the mech’s arm clean off. The Keishun was trying to crush the mech.

“Y/n. I need your help. I need you to override Bunny’s system.” His voice is calm and sure. If he’s afraid, you can’t tell.

“I-I can’t. You know that will cause her to self destruct.” You say. You didn’t realize you’ve been crying until you heard your voice crack. Dammit. This isn’t the time. You will yourself to pull it together.

“I’ll be fine, y/n. Trust me.” He tells you softly. To your right, you can see Jimin’s meka on the landing strip getting ready for take off. You quickly send Bunny’s coordinated to Jimin’s meka. He will be there soon. You just need to buy him a little time.

“I need you to buy me a few minutes to override the system. Can you do that, Jeon?” You’re lying through your teeth. You know each program on that mech like the back of your hand. You could do it in seconds, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Hell yeah, I can.”

He uses what’s left of Bunny’s left arm to swing at the omnic. You hear the sharp sound of crunching metal as he lands the hit.  He grabs his hand-held blaster from beside him, sticks his arm underneath Bunny’s windshield and fires at the omnics lower left arm. The metallic tentacle falls dead weight. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Jimin’s mech take flight toward the city. So you begin to override the system.

“Alright, I’ve got it. You have sixty seconds until Bunny self destructs. Jimin will be there to catch you.”

“That’s not fast enough! We’ll be in the city by then. It’s gotta be now.” He says. You can hear the distinct clicks of the back hatch opening. You know exactly what he’s planning and your eyes widen with panic.

“Jeongguk, don’t you fucking dare.” You cry, vision blurring.

“I’ll be alright, y/n. I’ll see you soon, okay?” He didn’t give you any time to answer. He ejects himself from the mech, uses his blaster to take careful aim at Bunny’s core and fires.

You run to the window in time to see a green light flash across the sky. You know somewhere Jeongguk has fallen into the water bellow.

_____________________________________

Jeongguk can only remember small fragments of events after the initial blast. He remembers briefly fighting against the water with his lungs burning and his legs heavy. He remembers a bright light shining down on him and people shouting as the waves lapped against his listless aching body. He remembers your warm hand grasping his as he was being wheeled along under fluorescent lights. He could here your pleas for him to hold on. He wished he weren’t so tired. He wished he could squeeze your hand back and tell you he was alright.

The lights were bright and they make his eyes ache. He wishes someone would turn them off, or at least dim them. Jeongguk turns his head to the side and finds you curled up in a chair, staring out the window. He wonders what you’re thinking about. He swallows harshly, lips and throat feeling dry.

“Hey.” You hear him say, voice hoarse and tired.

You reply with a soft ‘Hi’, attention still on the street bellow. You feel exhausted. You haven’t been able to sleep since he’s been in the hospital. The doctors have offered you a bed and pills to help you fall asleep, but you don’t want them. You wanted to be here when he woke up. Now, you’re really not sure why. You’d cried all day yesterday, how do you still have anything left?

Nonetheless, you felt tears spill down your cheeks. You really don’t want him to see you cry. He hates it when you cry.

“How long have I been out?” He asks, wincing as he moved to sit up. His arms and back are still so sore. He wonders how far he fell.

“Two days, not too long.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Are you crying? God, please don’t cry. You have the ugliest crying face.” He teases you, hoping to ease the tension surrounding the room.

You turn toward him feeling absolutely furious. Standing up, you march to his bedside and deliver a sharp smack to the back of his head.

“Ow, what the hell is the matter with you?” He rubs his head glaring at you.

“What the hell is the matter with YOU? Do you know what it’s been like fucking waiting here while you were in surgery? While you’ve been sleeping? This whole thing could have been prevented if you’d just let someone help you, but God forbid you let someone else steal your fucking spotlight. You run headfirst into these life or death situations without thinking of the consequences and I’m fucking sick of it. I never should’ve let you go out there alone. I should’ve locked Bunny down and made your dumbass wait for backup. Never again, Jeongguk. I swear. I’ll never let anything like this happen again…” Your eyes are brimmed with tears and burning with a kind of anger Jeongguk has never seen from you.

“Do you really think I did all that for a headline or two?” He sounded sincerely hurt and you almost felt bad for implying that.

“I don’t know, Jeongguk. I can’t figure out if you’re extremely selfish or just stupidly selfless. All I know is that I can’t watch you kill yourself.”

“I'm not gonna die, y/n. Jesus. Will you please-”

“I love you too much for that. I….I don’t think I can be your mechanic anymore.” You cut him off, tone much softer than before. You’ve been thinking about this for weeks now and you wish it hadn’t come down to this, but it feels like it has too. You can’t watch him destroy himself with his reckless decisions.

“Y/n…..I can’t do this without you. This isn’t about fame, it never has been. I just want to protect this country and everyone I love. I’ll admit, I should have waited for backup. I pushed Bunny to hard and I destroyed her. I did it to protect everyone, not for the fame. Please, I need you there…” Ignoring the plea of his body to stay resting, he leaned forward and took your hand.

You couldn’t look at him right now because you know you’d give him anything he wanted if you did. You muffled a sob with your other hand. Why does he have to make this so difficult for you?

He tugged you closer to him with a grimace and you didn’t put up a fight. You know you should have, but you couldn’t. Not when you heard the break in his voice as he whispered ‘come here’. He pulled you close and felt the sobs you had been fighting rake through your body. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and held you as close he possibly could.

“I know I’m reckless. I know I don’t think things through like I should, but I can try to be more careful. I'll take a break even. I just…. I didn’t know it upset you so much. Please, y/n. Just stay.”

“I'm sorry, Jeongguk. I-I'm so sorry.”

You tried to pull away, but he just held you even tighter. You felt his tears soak through the shoulder of your shirt. Why are you so weak? Your mind was screaming at you to get up and leave, but you just couldn't. Not with him choking out hysterical apologies and clinging to you the way he is. The dam was broken now and every little emotion that he had held back was hitting him full force. You couldn’t leave him like this. Your resolve was crumbling fast, but it didn’t matter anymore.

You laid down next to him and he clung to you. You ran your fingers through his hair while he cried. His shaky breath began to slow down and you knew he was falling asleep. You let your mind wonder.

Maybe, you could stay. Maybe, he meant what he said and he just didn’t know how seriously this affected you and those around him. Maybe, you’re just thinking too hopefully. Maybe, you’re just exhausted and incapable of making any kind of decisions right now.

“I love you, Guk.” you whispered to him. You doubt he heard it.

Your eyes felt too heavy to keep open and you let yourself finally drift into sleep.

___________________________________

You were gone when he woke up. He should've been able to predict that, but it still stung. He'd hoped that maybe you would change your mind, as selfish as that sounds. Maybe he should listen to you. He’s been in battles much worse, but this time around even he couldn't deny that he had taken it too far.

Did he really expect to be able to live a long and healthy life like this? You're right and he knew it. It's just hard to understand the reality of the situation. He needed to make some changes. It seemed dramatic when you said it, but it's true. He's killing himself and he can't keep it up anymore.

He tapped the button to call the nurses in. His head was pounding and he wasn't sure if it was the injuries or the thoughts swirling around his skull. He wandered where his phone was, if someone would bring it to him. He's ready to give up piloting mekas for good if that's what it took to keep you there. None of it really mattered if you weren't by his side. He loves you and it’s time for him to tell you.

[twifeordeath]

Twife or Death: Lesbian Twilight Chapter 19

Updated as of 12-13-18 (previous) (all chapters)

All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer, and this project is non-profit and fan entertainment. Thank you to Shelley, Taya, and the project admin Alina G.

19. GOODBYES

Charlie was waiting up for me. All the house lights were on. My mind was blank as I tried to think of a way to make this seem normal. Just a normal trip- suddenly I had an idea. An inkling of an idea, but it was a start.

Edythe pulled up slowly, staying well back from my truck. All three of them were acutely alert, ramrod straight in their seats, listening to every sound of the wood, looking through every shadow, catching every scent, searching for something out of place. The engine cut off, and I sat, motionless, as they continued to listen.

"She's not here," Edythe said tensely. "Let's go." Eleanor reached over to help me get out of the harness.

I felt moisture filling up my eyes as I looked at Eleanor. I barely knew her, and yet, somehow, not knowing when I would see her again after tonight was anguish. I knew this was just a faint taste of the goodbyes I would have to survive in the next hour, and the thought made the tears begin to spill.

"Alice, Eleanor." Edythe's voice was soft but stern. They slinked soundlessly into the darkness, instantly disappearing. Edythe opened my door and took my hand, then put an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to her, like proximity would protect me. She walked me swiftly toward the house, eyes always roving through the night.

"Fifteen minutes," she said under her breath.

"I can do this." I sniffled. My tears had given me inspiration.

I stopped on the porch and took hold of her face in my hands. I looked fiercely into her eyes.

"I love you," I said in a low, intense voice. "I will always love you, no matter what happens now."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Bella," she said just as fiercely.

"Just follow the plan, okay? Keep Charlie safe for me."

"Get inside, Bella. We have to hurry." Her voice was urgent.

I nodded and turned to open the door, knowing Edythe would be gone before I even closed it again.

"Bella?" Charlie had been hovering in the living room, and now peered out into the hallway.

“Ch- Ma, I have a really big favor to ask.” I used my fear and sadness to give my voice gravity. She came up to me, cupping my face in her hands.

“You okay, Bells?”

“Yeah, it’s not me. It’s- Alice. One of her childhood friends- she died recently.” I took a deep steadying breath. Charlie looked like she was lost for words. “I promised I’d come with her to the funeral. Most of the family was already out of town and Edythe and Jasper have a massive final project they’re working on- well nobody else can go and I didn’t want her to have to go alone.”

“I- sure. But, where is it?”

“It’s in Phoenix.”

“Wow Bells, that’s far- are you sure-” She took one look at my face and stopped halfway through the question. “Alright, I’ll call the school and let them know you’ll be gone a few days. It won’t take longer than that, right?”

“Actually, I think some pipes broke in the school and it’s been flooded, so we probably won’t have school tomorrow or the day after at all, depending on the damage and how fast they can get it fixed. I think Wednesday was a teacher work day anyway. I don’t know, they’ll probably call or email.” I start walking up the stairs. I knew for certain they were broken by now because Jasper seemed to take it as a personal responsibility to sneak in and, as Edythe said she’d phrased it “royally fuck things up”.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?” Charlie realized probably, as soon as the question left her mouth, how it would sound to her teenage daughter. “I mean, I just worry. Keep me updated alright? You don’t have to call me every night but I’d really appreciate it.”

“I will be texting you to let you know we haven’t run into a moose anywhere or gotten pulled over for speeding. Just joking Ma!” I looked back and saw her smile when I didn’t just call her Charlie again. She was softening, I knew it.

“Alright, let me know if you need help packing or anything, I’ll go make you some sandwiches for the road. You’re not leaving tonight, are you? Not in this weather?”

“No Ma, I said I’d stay the night with her, keep her company. Don’t worry, she’s a much better and more responsible driver than I am.”

“Okay, go pack already, don’t want to keep her waiting.” I ran up the rest of the stairs and into my room.

I turned to my dresser, and Edythe was already there, silently yanking out armfuls of random clothes, which she proceeded to throw to me. I rolled my eyes at her before trying to at least fold them slightly before shoving them in my bag. If I rushed too much Charlie would get suspicious. I think Edythe realized this, and after taking a deep breath started handing me underwear, a few folded shirts and sweaters. The bag was pretty much full now.

I jerked, exasperated, on the zipper of my bag. Edythe suddenly stopped in mid motion leaning over to help me, then put up a finger like she’d had an idea and rushed out of the room. I swore I could almost feel the breeze of her passage as she ran back in, putting a toothbrush, toothpaste and hairbrush into a smaller bag and shoving it in one of the side pockets.

She went to brush my hands away and zip it up herself but paused, looking over at me. I smiled and nodded, with a quiet ‘thanks’. It may not have been a big deal to anyone else, but I got frustrated at how helpless I felt when people did stuff for me just because of my dyspraxia, or lifted things for me without asking. She handed me the bag and I slung it over my shoulder.

“Meet you in the car.” She whispered, climbing out the window. I would never be able to get used to things like that. I made sure the window was locked before glancing around my room, trying to think if I’d missed anything. It was only a few days anyway. I went down the stairs much slower than I had gone up. The extra weight made my coordination even worse. Hey, at least it was stairs and not a ladder. I hated ladders with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns. It was up there with bicycles in my list of things I would not even try to do again because it was pointless and just hurt.

“Alright, I’m heading out.” I peeked into the kitchen to see Charlie wrapping two sandwiches in plastic wrap.

“Perfect timing.” She stuck them into a bag and handed it over. “Be careful, alright? I know you’re just going on a minor road trip and not skydiving, but- I’m sorry. Come here, let me give you a hug.” I stuck the sandwiches into a pocket of my bag with a small smile and walked over to wrap my arms around her waist. 

“I love you.” It felt too much like a goodbye, and I think Charlie sensed something was off.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” Hopefully she chalked it up to me coming face to face with the fragility of human life because of the funeral and not because of actual impending physical danger.

"I'll call you tomorrow." I said as I stepped back, trying to inject some cheerfulness into my voice. She patted my head and went to open the door for me.

“Give Alice my condolences. Or a hug would probably do better.” 

“Will do. Bye!” I walked past her and out the door, no longer able to control my facial expression. I made to to the car before I started crying. What if something happened? What if something happened to me and she blamed herself for letting me go? I opened the door and threw my bag into the backseat before buckling myself in and turning the car on, hitting the gas maybe a bit too hard.

Edythe reached for my hand.

"Pull over," she said as the house, and Charlie, disappeared behind us.

"I can drive," I said through the tears pouring down my cheeks.

“Sweetheart, please.”

“Alright.” I wiped a hand across my face before pulling onto the shoulder.

I was about to open the door before I felt her hands grip my waist.

“It’s starting to rain, I don’t want you to get wet. I can just do it like this, okay?” I had no idea what she was talking about but I was too tired and upset so I just nodded. She pulled me across her lap and suddenly she was in the driver's seat. I mechanically buckled my seatbelt as she pulled back onto the road.

Lights flared suddenly behind us. I stared out the back window, eyes wide with horror.

"It's just Alice," she reassured me. She took my hand again.

"The tracker?"

"The tracker followed us. She's running behind us now."

My body went cold.

"Can we outrun her?"

"No." But she sped up as she spoke. The truck's engine whined in protest.

My plan suddenly didn't feel so brilliant anymore.

“Eleanor is going to join us soon.”

I was staring back at Alice's headlights when the truck shuddered and a dark shadow sprung up outside the window.

I gasped in horror before what Edythe had said finally sunk in.

“What? That’s not- why couldn’t she just get into the car like a normal person she almost scared me to death.”

“Sorry, I didn’t want to say she was about to jump on the goddamn roof.”

“Next time just say that, okay?” I felt a bit out of breath so I leaned my head against the dashboard.

“I’m sorry Bella.” She took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “It's going to be alright.”

"I’m afraid for you," I whispered.

"We'll be together again in a few days," she said, "Don't forget that this was your idea." I could tell she was trying to lighten the mood.

"It was the best idea — of course it was mine."

Her answering smile was bleak and disappeared immediately.

"Why did this happen?" I asked, my voice catching. "Why me?"

She stared blankly at the road ahead. "It's my fault — I was a fool to expose you like that. I’m sorry."

"That's not what I meant," I insisted. "I was there, big deal. It didn't bother the other two. Why did this Jamie decide she wants to kill me? There're people all over the place, why me?"

She hesitated, thinking before she answered.

"I got a good look at her mind tonight," she began in a low voice. "I'm not sure if there's anything I could have done to avoid this, once she saw you. But when I defended you… well, that made it a lot worse. She's not used to being thwarted, no matter how insignificant the object. She thinks of herself  as a hunter and nothing else. Her existence is consumed with tracking, and a challenge is all she asks of life. Suddenly we've presented her with a beautiful challenge — a large clan of strong fighters all bent on protecting the one vulnerable element. You wouldn't believe how euphoric she is now. It's her favorite game, and we've just made it her most exciting game ever." Her tone was full of disgust.

She paused a moment.

"I don't think I have any choice but to kill her now," she muttered. "Carine won't like it."

I could hear the tires cross the bridge, though I couldn't see the river in the dark. I knew we were getting close. I had to ask her now.

"How can you kill a vampire?"

She glanced at me with unreadable eyes and her voice was quiet. "The only way to be sure is to behead her and burn the body.”

"And the other two will fight with her?"

"The redhead, Victoria, will. I'm not sure about Laurent. They don't have a very strong bond — she's only with them for convenience. She was embarrassed by Jamie in the meadow…"

"But Jamie and Victoria — they'll try to kill you?" I asked, my voice raw.

"I’ll have Eleanor, and Carine. And the advantage of reading their minds, don’t worry about me. Your only concern is keeping yourself safe and — please— try not to be too reckless."

"Is she still following?"

"Yes. She won't attack the house, though. Not tonight."

She turned off onto the invisible drive, with Alice following behind.

“Eleanor will carry you inside, alright? Get you in there fast and safe while I keep watch for Alice.” I nodded as we drove up to the house. The lights inside were bright, but they did little to alleviate the blackness of the encroaching forest. Eleanor had my door open before the truck was stopped; I closed my eyes as she pulled me gently out of the seat, tucked me like a football into her vast chest, and ran me through the door.

We burst into the large white room, Edythe and Alice at our sides. All of them were there; they were already on their feet at the sound of our approach. Laurent stood in their midst. I could hear low growls rumble deep in Eleanor's throat as she set me down next to Edythe. I muttered a quick ‘thanks’ to her as I tried to steady my breathing. She patted my shoulder distractedly.

"She's tracking us," Edythe announced, glaring balefully at Laurent.

Laurent's face was unhappy. "I was afraid of that."

Alice slid over to Jasper's side and whispered in her ear; her lips quivered with the speed of her silent speech. They sped up the stairs together. Rosalie watched them, and then moved quickly to Eleanor's side. Her beautiful eyes were intense and — when they flickered to my face — angry.

"What will she do?" Carine asked Laurent in chilling tones.

"I'm sorry," she answered. "I was afraid, when your girl there defended her, that it would set her off."

"Can you stop her?"

Laurent shook her head. "Nothing stops Jamie when she gets started."

"We'll stop her," Eleanor promised. There was no doubt what she meant.

"You can't bring her down. I've never seen anything like her in my three hundred years. She's absolutely lethal. That's why I joined her coven."

Her coven, I thought, of course. The show of leadership in the clearing was merely that, a show.

Laurent was shaking her head. She glanced at me, perplexed, and back to Carine. "Are you sure it's worth it?"

Edythe's low growl filled the room; Laurent cringed.

Carine looked gravely at Laurent. "I'm afraid you're going to have to make a choice."

Laurent understood. She deliberated for a moment. Her eyes took in every face, and finally swept the bright room.

"I'm intrigued by the life you've created here. But I won't get in the middle of this. I bear none of you any enmity, but I won't go up against Jamie. I think I will head north — to that clan in Denali." She hesitated. "Don't underestimate Jamie. She's got a brilliant mind and unparalleled senses. She's every bit as comfortable in the human world as you seem to be, and she won't come at you head on… I'm sorry for what's been unleashed here. Truly sorry." She bowed her head, but I saw her flicker another puzzled look at me.

"Go in peace," was Carine's formal answer.

Laurent took another long look around the room and then hurried out the door.

The silence lasted less than a second.

"How close?" Carine looked to Edythe.

Esme was already moving; her hand touched an inconspicuous keypad on the wall, and with a groan, huge metal shutters began sealing up the glass wall. I gaped.

"About three miles out past the river; she's circling around to meet up with Victoria."

"What's the plan?"

"We'll lead her off, and then Jasper and Alice will run her south."

"And then?"

Edythe's tone was deadly. "As soon as Bella is clear, we hunt her."

"I guess there's no other choice," Carine agreed, her face grim.

Edythe turned to Rosalie.

"Get her upstairs and trade clothes," Edythe said. Rosalie stared back at her with livid disbelief.

"Why should I?" she hissed. "What is she to me? Except a menace — a danger you've chosen to inflict on all of us."

I flinched back from the venom in her voice.

"Rose…" Eleanor murmured, putting one hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this.” She hissed at Eleanor. “You don’t owe her anything.”

“She matters to Edythe, so she matters to me.” Was Eleanor’s steady reply. Something, some doubt or other emotion flickered across Rosalie’s face but she shook her head and ran off.

But I was watching Edythe carefully, worried about her reaction.

She simply had looked away from Rosalie as if she hadn't spoken.

"Esme?" she asked calmly.

"Of course," Esme murmured. “May I?” She reached her arms out to me like she wanted to pick me up. I sighed and nodded, resigning myself to these vampires just wanting to lug me around since I was otherwise so slow.

Esme was at my side in half a heartbeat, swinging me up easily into her arms, and dashing up the stairs before I could gasp in shock.

"Why are we doing this?" I asked breathlessly as she set me down in a dark room somewhere off the second-story hall.

"Trying to confuse the smell. It won't work for long, but it might help get you out." I could hear her clothes falling to the floor.

"I don't think I'll fit…" I hesitated, but her gentle hands were tugging my shirt over my head. I quickly stripped my jeans off myself. She handed me something, it felt like a shirt. I struggled to get my arms through the right holes. As soon as I was done she handed me her slacks. I yanked them on, but I couldn't get my feet out; they were too long. She deftly rolled the hems a few times so I could stand. Somehow she was already in my clothes. She led me back to the stairs, where Alice stood, a small leather bag in one hand. They each grabbed one of my elbows and half-carried me as they flew down the stairs.

It appeared that everything had been settled downstairs in our absence. Edythe and Eleanor were ready to leave, Eleanor carrying a heavy-looking backpack over her shoulder. Carine was handing something small to Esme. She turned and handed Alice the same thing — it was a thin silver cell phone.

"Esme and Rosalie will be taking your truck if that’s okay, Bella," she told me as he passed. I nodded, glancing warily at Rosalie. She was examining her nails as if nobody else in the room existed.

"Alice, Jasper — take the Mercedes. You'll need the dark tint in the south."

They nodded as well.

"We're taking the Jeep."

I was surprised to see that Carine intended to go with Edythe. I realized suddenly, with a stab of fear, that they made up the hunting party.

"Alice," Carine asked, "will they take the bait?"

Everyone watched Alice as she closed her eyes and became incredibly still.

Finally her eyes opened. "She'll track you. Victoria will follow the truck. We should be able to leave after that." Her voice was certain.

"Let's go." Carine began to walk toward the kitchen.

Edythe was at my side at once, pulling me into her arms. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and closed my eyes in an effort not to cry. She pulled back a few moments later, looking me in the eyes, determined, before her expression softened and she stood up on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to my lips.

“See you later.” She said as she took one last glance at me.

And they were gone.

We stood there, the others looking away from me as a tear streaked down my face, though Alice gave me a quick hug.

The silent moment dragged on, and then Esme's phone vibrated in her hand. It flashed to her ear.

"Now," she said. Rosalie stalked out the front door without another glance in my direction, but Esme touched my cheek as she passed.

"Be safe." Her whisper lingered behind them as they slipped out the door. I heard my truck start thunderously, and then fade away.

Jasper and Alice waited. Alice's phone seemed to be at her ear before it buzzed.

"Edythe says Victoria is on Esme's trail. I'll get the car." She vanished into the shadows the way Edythe had gone.

Jasper and I looked at each other. She stood across the length of the entryway from me… being careful.

"You're wrong, you know," she said quietly.

"What?" I thought this was the first time she’d spoken directly to me.

"I can feel what you're feeling now — and you are worth it."

"I'm not," I mumbled. "If anything happens to them, it will be for nothing."

"You're wrong," she repeated, smiling kindly at me.

I heard nothing, but then Alice stepped through the front door and came toward me with her arms held out.

"May I?" she asked. I sniffed and nodded, this time needing the comfort of someone's physical presence, needing the reassurance, even if it wasn’t Edythe.

She lifted me in her slender arms as easily as Eleanor had, shielding me protectively, and then we flew out the door, leaving the lights bright behind us.

[undersummerskyy]

Could you maybe do one where beca or chloe is drinking too much too often and the other is concerned that they’re using it as an unhealthy coping mechanism please? x

I realize that this story has gone way beyond what you were expecting. But it sort of happened. All 9000+ words.

It’s angsty, for sure, but with a prompt like that, it makes sense of course. I think this might be the most achingly beautiful thing I’ve ever written, if I say so myself. This story is a journey, and although I’ve never experienced anything like this, I felt like I was on that journey with Beca.

I hope I did it justice. 

So yeah, angsty, but with a happy end so hang in there.

Love you all.😘

Warnings for alcoholism.

You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.

When Beca had sung those words for the first time five years ago, she didn’t really mean it.

When Chloe had sung it to her, three years after that, it had made her somewhat emotional. She was leaving, they were all leaving. But she had an internship, and soon a job, and knew what she wanted, and she was going to be okay. She’d do okay without them.

Then, she left and Chloe and Amy came with her.

It was a little frightening at first, especially because their tiny apartment didn’t allow for any personal space whatsoever.

But it was nice.

It was nice because she forgot to eat, but as soon as Chloe noticed she started to make her lunches, and have breakfast ready for her when she had to get up. They didn’t really talk about it, it just kind of happened.

And then it was nice because there was someone who actually cared whether she was coming home tonight or not, someone who cared if she was okay. Chloe would always text her before she went to bed, making Beca promise that she’d come back home to sleep, even for just a few hours.

It was nice because they talked and talked and talked on the weekends and it was actually really fun and Amy knew just how to make her laugh when all she wanted to do was cry, and Chloe was always just there waiting on her with open arms she could run into.

They supported each other, were amazed by each other, and never judged.

They had different dreams, but they were there for each other.

And Beca kind of loved it.

But then, she got fired.

She told Amy she quit, of course, but it wasn’t like that.

She hadn’t messed up, her boss just ended up not liking her ‘personality’ and she was ‘difficult to work with’. Which was worse, so much worse.

Because that meant that no matter how good she was going to ever be, she’d never be a real producer if people didn’t want to work with her.

“Becs,” Chloe had said that day, wrapping her arms tightly around her, “I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, I quit, I told you.”

She knew that Chloe could see straight through her lie, but the wound was too fresh and it was painful to talk about how someone had basically straight up told her she was a bitch, when she already knew she hadn’t always been the best friend. Especially to Chloe, who deserved the whole world.

So no, she hadn’t told her the truth.

Two days later, Chloe got accepted into vet school.

She didn’t tell Beca.

“Why didn’t she fucking tell me?” Beca had asked Fat Amy, too aggressive and too harsh. She was drunk, and she hadn’t moved from the couch in two hours, hadn’t showered in three days or brushed her teeth.

“Beca.”

“No, I’m serious. She seriously didn’t even fucking tell me? She always goes on and one about how close we are, yet she doesn’t even consider telling me when something like this happens.” She’d found the acceptance letter underneath Chloe’s pillowcase when she’d finally made it to the bed at 6am this morning, when Chloe had already left.

“She’s going to go to San Francisco and she’s just gonna leave without saying anything?”

“I don’t think that’s-“

“It starts in two weeks, Amy.”

She’s quiet after that.

Chloe arrives home late that night, which never happens.

Beca assumes Amy’s warned her about her ‘mood’ and told her not to come home until after Beca was asleep. Well, the joke is on her, because she’s still awake.

Not that she wants to, she apparently just can’t fall asleep without the steady breathing of her best friend next to her and she hates it. When did she become the person who needs someone to be that close to her?

Chloe slips into bed next to her, being as quiet as she can.

She doesn’t even realize she’s crying until she feels Chloe’s hand on her shoulder.

“Bec.”

Immediately, she stops.

“Don’t.”

“Beca, what’s wrong?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I-,” Chloe starts anyways, “I heard you found the letter.”

“Yeah. Totes awesome I had to find out like that, thanks. What were you gonna do? Just move out next week or so and not mention anything?”

“No, Beca, that’s not what-“

“Because I thought that this was more than that. I thought we were.. friends Chloe.”

Chloe’s crying too now. She can’t see her but she can tell, can hear.

“We are friends. I was never going to just leave like that.”

Beca shakes her head.

“I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“You got fired, Beca.”

She turns around then, facing Chloe and glaring angrily at her. “I didn’t get fired. I told you, I quit.”

“Sure, whatever. You were sad, and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

In her heart, she knows that what Chloe did wasn’t horrible. She meant it well, she wanted to protect her, not tell her she got the opportunity of a lifetime right after she got fired. Yet, still, she was too overwhelmed and too emotional right now to think like that right now.

Chloe reaches out to wipe her cheeks, but she turns her head away.

“Don’t touch me.”

If Chloe’s leaving, if all of this is ending anyway, she might as well end it now.

It might as well be all over.

She slips out of the bed and reaches for the suitcase she has laying around, packed up for when she needs to go somewhere for work. She vaguely hears Chloe trying to stop her, but she doesn’t listen.

Chloe is just going to have to miss her when she’s gone.

She left.

And for some stupid, fucking reason Beca realizes that she was wrong all those years ago.

She was wrong when she sang those words, because it isn’t Chloe who’s missing her, it’s Beca.

Beca misses Chloe.

She misses her everywhere, all the time.

Their house is empty and quiet without the constant singing, and nothing’s the same.

“Hey Bec. Did you- did you get off the couch at all today?” 

Amy tentatively asks her as she returns from her new job.

Even Amy found a new job. A proper, paying job.

“Why should I?” She asks, slightly slurring her words as she takes another swig from the bottle of strong liquor she’s nursing.

“Uh. It’s uh- it’s not even 5 yet, Beca.”

She looks over at the clock on their wall. “Close enough.”

Amy shakes her head and tries to take the bottle from her. Beca just pulls it closer to her chest. “Why do you even care?”

“I’m your friend, Bec.”

“Well, friends suck. They leave.”

Amy doesn’t say anything then, realizing having a conversation with her is pointless.

She hasn’t talked to Chloe.

Not since she walked out of their apartment that one night.

The redhead had tried to contact her, tried to find her, for a couple of weeks. But then, everything went quiet and Aubrey told her (she hadn’t asked, not really) that Chloe had moved to San Francisco and had started school.

Good for her.

Beer helped, for a while.

But then her body got used to it.

And then, whiskey helped. Lots of it.

“Shouldn’t you get ready?” Aubrey tells her as she walks into her apartment late one afternoon.

“For what?” Beca asks her, relatively sober for once.

Today marked officially nine months since Chloe had left, and she hasn’t even managed to get out of bed. Even getting up to find her good friend Jack seemed too much work.

“The reunion, silly.” The blonde answers, and Beca still can’t believe how Aubrey has stuck with her these last few months.

All she’s done is try to push her away, which shouldn’t have been difficult at all, because Aubrey never liked her in the first place, yet she’s still here.

“I’m not going to that.”

“You are.”

She walks over towards Beca and pulls the covers off her body. The blonde has to hold back a gasp when she sees just how skinny Beca looks.

“I’m not.” Beca says, trying to reach for the covers again.

“She won’t be there. Plus, do you really want everyone else to worry about you? You know they’ll never shut up about it. You might as well get it over with.”

It’s a lie.

But Beca is too weak to catch it.

“Alright, but only for an hour.”

“That’s fine. Let’s get ready.”

She’s basically drunk by the time they get there.

The other Bellas don’t seem to mind, just making a joke of it probably being the only reason ‘Beca could bear to be around all of them for the evening’. They have a couple of shots as well and soon everyone is drunk and it doesn’t matter.

The alcohol can’t numb the sting she feels when a familiar face steps into the bar, her red hair tied up and sporting an easy but somewhat nervous smile.

“I thought you said she wouldn’t be here.” She hisses towards Amy, who just holds up her hand and moves away from her.

She’ll fucking kill her.

“Beca.”

It’s Chloe.

Chloe’s POV

Chloe didn’t want to leave, she’d never wanted to, was never going to.

The position wasn’t great and it was far and she had a life here. 

When she got the letter she didn’t tell her friends at first because she wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

One part of her wanted to go.

Staying here with Beca and Amy was good, really good, but it wasn’t something that could last. She knew it, and they knew it.

If she would stay she would just be delaying the inevitable.

Plus, Beca was brilliant, and she’d get a job in Los Angeles and then Chloe would never see her again and she’d be alone in New York with nothing.

But Beca didn’t get a new job, she got fired. She knew, of course, that the brunette was lying about it. She didn’t care, not really.

She wouldn’t go to San Francisco.

Beca needed her, obviously.

Maybe she’d wait a few weeks before finally finding the courage to tell her how she felt and maybe, just maybe Beca would love her too and then it didn’t matter anymore where they’d go because they would be together.

She put the letter under her pillow that night, hoping it would in her dreams somehow tell her that she made the right decision not to accept. (ridiculous, she knows, but her mom thought her that)

But then Beca found the letter and everything went wrong.

She walked out and didn’t come back and Chloe knew that they were never going to be anything when she refused to talk to her, they might not even be friends anymore, and suddenly she can’t stay. She can’t stay in the apartment; she can’t even stay in the city.

So she accepts.

And leaves.

San Francisco is okay.

Everything seems to be ‘good enough’.

She dates someone after a few months for a little bit and he’s just ‘nice’ and ‘kind’ but he doesn’t make her feel the things Beca made her feel.

School is okay and her friends are fine, but it’s not what it was.

Not even close.

She misses them.

Now that they’re gone she realizes even more how much she loved them, appreciated them.

Mostly Beca.

Because yes, Beca was cold sometimes and sarcastic and didn’t really tell Chloe that she loved her, or that she was her best friend or whatever, but at least she meant it.

Her new friends call her ‘babe’ and tell her ‘love you’ when they part and it’s all fake smiles and words that sound untrue and it’s suffocating her.

At least when Beca had looked at her that one time after worlds and told her ‘I love you’ she meant it. Maybe just in a ‘we’re best friends’ way, but she did mean it.

She’d rather have it said once than have it like this.

She’s tried to contact Beca once more, later one, when it had been officially six months since their fight.

She didn’t pick up.

She gets a call from Amy.

Eight months after leaving New York Amy calls her.

They’ve called before, a couple of times, but they were never that close and she doesn’t want to ask about Beca and she can tell that Amy’s not sure if she should just tell her or not say anything.

So they don’t talk about her, not until right then.

“I need your help.”

“What? Why? Is everything okay.”

There’s a silence on the other end of the line before Amy finally answers. “Uh, no. It’s not okay. Beca’s not okay.”

Her heart clenches painfully in her chest, even after all this time apart.

“What’s wrong?”

There’s a sigh coming from Amy’s end, and she knows how hard this must be. “Please just call Aubrey. She’ll tell you.”

She does, right away.

“What? I thought we agreed we weren’t going to tell you!” Is the first thing Aubrey says.

“Tell me what?” She’s angry now, because they still should have told her if something was wrong. She has the right to know! Or does she?

“Chloe it’s-“

“Tell me.” She pushes, and she can hear Aubrey taking a deep breath on the other end of the line.

“She’s been drinking, Chlo.”

“Yeah, she uh- she does that when stuff’s hard sometime. I’m sure it’s just a bad week-”

“Chloe.” Aubrey interrupts. “She’s been drinking ever since you left. She doesn’t get up from the couch, never, and she barely eats. She looks pretty bad.”

Tears fall down her cheeks instantly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She chokes out.

“I thought I was handling it. I see her almost every day, I bring her food, I try to find the bottles but she’s sneaky, and a pain in my ass.”

There’s a pause.

“I think she might really hurt herself, Chlo.”

She brings her hand up to her mouth, not believing what’s happening right now. “What- what do you want me to do?”

“Come to the reunion in a few weeks.”

“Bree-“

“I know, I know you don’t want to, and I can’t promise that she’ll be civil, in fact, I can guarantee you that she’ll treat you like shit and be beyond wasted, but I think that she still needs you to be there. I just don’t know what else to do.”

She doesn’t want to go, not really, because clearly, Beca doesn’t want her there. It will be awkward and painful and she’ll still love her, no matter what, and it will make it so much worse.

But Beca needs her, even if she doesn’t realize it herself.

“I’ll be there.”

She stands outside for about twenty minutes before she finally finds the courage to go in.

Her whole journey here had been messy and rushed, and all she could think about was Beca, Beca, Beca. She needed to see her, right now.

Yet, now that she was finally here, she was terrified.

This wasn’t going to be pretty.

She walks through the doors, and she can feel Beca’s eyes on her instantly. It’s weird, how she knows it’s her, but she just does. It makes her shiver.

Just as she’s about to look back at her, she can feel Beca’s gaze shifting away from her. She spends a minute or two greeting the other Bellas before she finally gathers enough courage to make her way over towards the bar, where Beca is currently sitting (and leaving heavily on the counter).

She says something to Amy, and based on the look on her Australian friend’s face it’s nothing pretty.

Still, she’s here, and she has to do this.

No matter how it’s going to hurt her own heart, she has to find the strength within herself to do this, to fix this.

After all, it’s partly her fault.

“Beca.”

She can’t believe how thin the other woman is. She’s always been slim, of course, Chloe had noticed that. But she was strong, stronger than most people assumed and her muscles were prominent and she had just the right amount of curves in the right places and she was beautiful.

Now, there was barely anything left.

Not that she could say anything about that, of course.

“What the hell are you doing here?” The words are slurred, and it makes her heart clench. She knew that Beca was drunk, of course, but it’s still painful to see up close.

“It’s the Bellas reunion, of course I’m here.”

“Right.” Beca says, but it lacks the anger she’s looking for.

“How- How are you?”

The brunette huffs and shakes her head. “I’m great. Awesome. Can’t you tell?” She takes another sip of her drink, and Chloe watches how her hand trembles when she puts the glass back down.

“Bec-“

“I really don’t want to talk to you, Chloe. I just came here for Amy and Aubrey, and that’s all this is.”

“I know,” She responds, forcing a small smile on her face, “that’s okay. I just- I’m here.”

Beca rolls her eyes and walks away, but something in her eyes tells Chloe that she understands exactly what she’d just said.

Aubrey suggesting the USO tour is some kind of miracle really.

Beca agreeing to go is an even bigger one.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do.” She says, as she shrugs and leans against Amy.

They’re all afraid to say something, worried it might make Beca change her mind. The others don’t know what’s going on exactly, not really, but everyone can tell that something is wrong, of course.

So nobody says anything. They high five Beca and hug each other and Beca doesn’t flinch when Chloe puts a hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Then again, she may not have noticed it.

She knows that it’s very risky, going on this tour with Beca.

It gives her a chance to take care of her, to watch her, to make sure she doesn’t get drunk all the time.

But she has to be careful too.

Beca doesn’t even want her around, and Chloe is sure she’s going to freak when she finds out that she’s watching her.

But Beca makes it a whole day without drinking.

Which, according to Amy, is some kind of miracle.

She’s eating, and she smiled at dinner, and she even hugged Aubrey.

Chloe doesn’t know why, but she saw them talking before and they hugged.

She wants to ask, of course, but she respects their bond too. They have something that she and Beca don’t have, and she doesn’t want to get in the way of that. Especially because it seems like it’s helping.

“Maybe I should just go home.” Chloe says to Aubrey that evening.

“Why?” Aubrey asks, confused. This is something they both really wanted, and it would be weird for Chloe to walk away from it.

“I don’t think Beca wants me here.”

“She does.”

“Bree, she hates me.”

Aubrey shakes her head. “Beca doesn’t hate you, Chlo. Just- I can’t tell you what to do because it would be unfair to Beca, but just try to be her friend. I can’t promise you that she’ll make it easy for you, but you’re strong, you’ve always been the strongest of all of us, and I think that she really needs you now. Even if she doesn’t know it herself.”

She nods, tears falling down her cheeks.

Saving Beca might break her.

Beca’s POV

Beca wakes up with a hangover the next day.

Which isn’t new.

Except this time, she didn’t drink anything last night.

She had no alcohol and yet her head is pounding, her eyes are swollen and her mouth feels dry.

She’s been crying.

She remembers crying in bed last night, and she remembers hearing Chloe knock on her door a little after 4AM and telling her to go away five times before the knocking finally faded and she’d left.

Aubrey came in a little later and had held her for a while.

She cried, and she shivered because she was cold to her bones, but she didn’t drink.

She’d feel happy about that if she didn’t feel worse today than any other day.

Aubrey was gone now but there was some aspirin and a glass of water next to her, along with a little note telling her she loved her and that the other Bellas were downstairs if she wanted to join them for breakfast.

She does.

It’s not as bad as she thought it would be. Chloe looks at her the whole time, she can tell. She can feel the redhead’s eyes on her, and she’s too scared to look back.

Chicago.

That’s all Beca can think about.

Chicago.

They’re in Italy now and she can’t even enjoy the location.

She hasn’t been like her old self yet, but she will admit that she was doing better.

Her friends are there and for once, she has a purpose again, a goal. She has something worth fighting for.

Nobody has tried to talk to her about what’s going on, they’re all just there, and it makes her appreciate them even more. She’d feel guilty about her behavior if she had any energy and room in her heart left to feel those things.

She does hate how cold she is towards Chloe.

The redhead doesn’t deserve it, not really.

Beca doesn’t have the right to be this mad, she knows that.

Chloe had a chance to do what she wanted, and she took it. She should have talked to Beca about it, yeah, but she also knows that when Chloe says she was doing it to protect her, she should have believed her.

So what is she really mad about? Chloe leaving her after she told her to go? Chloe not calling her after she tried to do so for the longest time without any response?  

No.

She’s mad because Chloe doesn’t love her back, and that’s not something you can blame someone for.

It just hurts, and being angrier is easier.

But she’s starting to realize that it isn’t fair.

So, she’s just about to walk up to Chloe, to talk to her, for the first time, when she notices Chicago talking to her.

She’s laughing, and he’s putting a hand on her arm and she’s giving him that smile that she used to only give to Beca.

It hurts.

She turns around and walks to the bar.

Chloe’s POV

Chloe finds Beca sitting at the hotel bar a couple of hours later.

She doesn’t know what happened.

She actually thought that Beca had been doing better. She was smiling a little more and Chloe knew that she hadn’t been drinking, not since the first evening.

She was upset, yes, but after that one night of crying (which still hurts so much when she thinks about it) Beca has been doing okay. Chloe knows because she’s made sure she has the room next to her every single time, wanting to be right there in case something happens.

“Becs-“ She starts, but Beca is already shaking her head and holding up a hand.

“Don’t say anything.”

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk.”

Chloe sighs deeply. “I know you don’t want to talk, but we’re gonna do it anyways.”

She tries to get up, walk away, but Chloe is much stronger now and also sober. It’s useless.

“Let’s go to my room.”

Beca fights back. “Shouldn’t you be kissing soldier boy?”

It hurts.

Of course, it hurts.

She doesn’t want to kiss him, not really, but she does like him. More than she’s liked anyone since Beca. He’s nice and cares about her and isn’t trying to hurt her most of the day. He’s not staring at her like she ruined his life.

So yeah, she doesn’t like him as much as she liked (likes) Beca, but he makes her happier.

Right now, he does.

And maybe that’s what she needs.

She doesn’t necessarily want to actually be with him, but just getting that small amount of attention, the validation that she is a good person, and that she is worthy of love.. it’s nice.

“Chloe, seriously, fucking let go of me.” Beca says, pulling on her arm, trying to get it free from Chloe’s grip. She pulls back harshly, making Chloe winch as she feels the sting of Beca’s nails digging into her own arm.

She knows.

She knows that when Beca pulls like this she has to push.

Beca pulls back in the shower when they meet and she pushes forward.

Beca pulls back from a hug and she pushes herself into her arms.

Beca pulls back from the Bellas and she pushes with her words to make her join again.

Beca pulls away and she pushes.

But this time.. she lets go.

Beca pulls her arm away and she doesn’t do anything.

She just lets her walk away.

Because even for her this is too much.

Beca’s POV

She’s hung-over again the next day.

She’d almost forgotten how painful it is. Almost.

Her head is pounding and it really fucking hurts, but at least this is pain she is familiar with. At least she knows how to heal this, deal with it, fix it.

The pain she feels in her heart? She’s not so sure about.

She’s an idiot.

An absolute fucking idiot.

She’s been the worst person ever, and she knows it.

Yeah, she’s known it all this time, but she didn’t fully realize it until now.

She’s done, it’s done.

This has to end.

She texts Aubrey, who’s in her room not three minutes later.

“What happened, Beca?”

She can tell Aubrey’s upset with her, but trying to hold herself back.

It makes her feel even worse.

Her friends have learned to be careful around her, to never say anything that might make her get angry, or drink.

It’s horrible.

“I’m so sorry.” She starts crying then, and Aubrey’s arms are around her a second later.

She tries to pull back. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you as a friend, or Amy, or especially Chloe.”

“We’re not going anywhere, Beca, you might as well start accepting it.”

She lets go then. She’s weak, and tired, and hung-over and she has no energy left to fight it.  

She hugs Aubrey back and cries into her shoulder for a solid ten minutes.

“How is Chloe?” She finally dares to ask.

Aubrey pulls back and smiles somewhat sadly at her.  

“Not great, to be honest. But don’t worry, we got it. She’ll be okay.”

She shakes her head then. “No. I did this; I have to fix it.”

She tries to get up, but Aubrey just pulls her back down onto the bed. “Not now, okay. Don’t get me wrong, Beca, I’m happy that you want to fix this, and I can see that you mean it when you say that you’re sorry. But if you truly want to help Chloe, you leave her alone.”

A tear falls down her cheek. “Oh. Yeah. I understand.” It hurts, because all she wants to do is run up to Chloe and hug her, and apologize, but she knows she can’t. She’s been selfish for long enough.

No matter how hard it’s going to be, this needs to stop. She’d hurt Chloe yesterday, more than she ever had before.  

If Chloe wants to be with Chicago, she should.

She deserves to be happy, and she shouldn’t have to deal with Beca and her bullshit.

It’s not fair.

She knows.

“You can see, can’t you?” Aubrey asks. “It’s like a cloud was lifted or something.”

“Yeah,” Beca responds, “I can see.”

“It won’t be easy.”

“Nothing ever is.”

“I’ve got you.”

“I know.” She says, letting herself fall into Aubrey’s arms once more. She has her friends, and they have her. She’ll get there.

They’re in France. The tour has been okay.

Their performances are going great, and Beca is actually starting to really enjoy herself.

She almost slipped last night, but Aubrey has this sense where she can tell when Beca is disappearing into a dark corner of her mind. She’s so good at it that Beca knows she must know from experience. One day, she promises, she’ll ask her. She’ll be strong enough to help her then.

Chloe seems to be alright.

She smiles, and although it lacks her usual brightness, it’s still there.

She knows that she’s talking to Aubrey too, which probably helps.

Beca has kept her distance, mostly.

She just wishes her a good morning, and a good night, and she smiles at her after their performances.

She doesn’t know whether to feel happy or sad when Chloe smiles back.

Because Chloe shouldn’t smile back, she should smile at Chicago, and never look at her again.

But she does, and it’s beautiful.

That night, there’s a party.

It’s almost the end of the tour, tomorrow is the last day, and Beca has been chosen to sing for DJ Khaled.

Not the Bellas, just her.

She wasn’t sure in the beginning, but they were all extremely happy for her, and most of them had come up and hugged her, saying that if there was anyone who deserved this, it was her.

They were too nice, really.

But she smiles.

Because for once, she has a future to look forward to.

She has something that she can do when she’s done.

So, she goes to the party, because it’s mostly about her anyway and it would be weird if she didn’t go. This guy, Theo, had organized it for her and all the other Bellas would be there too and it was going to be one of the last night they’d have together.

Aubrey’s by her side as she walks into the room, the strong smell of alcohol immediately making her nauseous. “You can do this.” Aubrey says, giving her arm one small squeeze before walking away from her for a moment.

She needs to do this now. On her own. Because soon she won’t have them in her life, not like this, and she has to make sure she doesn’t end back up on that same couch.

She mingles with some of the guests for a little while, noticing Chloe talking to Chicago in a corner, laughing. She takes another sip of her water and turns her back to them, breathing slowly and deeply. She can do this.

“Hey!” Someone says, causing her to turn around. Oh, it’s him.

“Theo.” She answers, forcing a smile.

“Congratulations.”

“You’ve already said that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I figured I’d say it again, seeing as this is your party and everything.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She answers, her lips forming a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes at all. It’s the same smile she used to give Aubrey in the beginning of their friendship, but Theo doesn’t seem to notice it’s not real.

“So, you wanna get a drink?”

Her heart stops. She’s sure of it. For a second it stops in her chest, and then starts beating at a rhythm that she knows is way too fast.

“Oh.” She answers, needing something to fill the silence while she tries to clear her mind.

“Come on, it’s not that difficult of a question. I’ll get it for you, what are you having?”

Suddenly, Chloe’s there. She can tell because she can feel her presence behind her. She doesn’t look at her though.

“I’m good actually, thanks.”

“Are you sure?” Theo pushes, “This is your party after all. You wouldn’t want to come across as ungrateful.” He’s joking, she knows, but she can’t help but feel horrible. And hate him a little for saying that.

“Theo, she-“ Chloe starts, but Beca turns back to her and shoots her a small smile, holding up her hand to let her know it’s okay, she’s got this.

“Yes, Theo, I’m sure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be with my friends.”

She turns back to face Chloe, who is just gaping at her, a shocked expression on her face. As soon as they make eye contact though, a small smile appears on her face.

“You want to go hang out with the others?” She asks tentatively, “Or, if you just want to be with Chicago, that’s okay too.”

Chloe nods. “No, I uh- I’d like that.”

Beca smiles at her, an honest smile, and hooks her arm through Chloe’s, dragging her along.

The performance is amazing.

It’s absolutely perfect.

Especially when all the other Bellas join her on stage and Chloe actually hugs her afterwards.

She loves them so much.

She would never have gotten where she was today without them.

“I love you.” She says as she pulls Aubrey into her arms once more.

“I love you too, Beca.”

She has a future.

She has a job.

She knows where she’ll go and what she’ll do and it’s something that she loves.

She still has her friends.

And she has Chloe back.

Maybe not in the way that her heart would truly want her, but at least she’s back into her life and although it’s a little shaky, they’re friends again and that’s enough.

Right?

Chloe’s POV

Chloe can’t believe what happened.

These last few weeks have been the best and worst weeks of her life.

Beca is.. she’s Beca again.

She’s sarcastic and joking, and she smiles. She pushes and pulls and she cocks her eyebrow when that annoying dude says something and she looks like herself again too.

She looks better.

She’s careful at first, a little scared to let her back in too easily, but Aubrey assures her it’s okay, so she does.

She hugs Beca after her performance, relieved and content when Beca buries her head in her neck and wraps her own arms tightly around her.

“I love you guys so much.” She whispers then, and it’s odd, because it’s like she was going to say “I love you” but changed her mind at the last second.

Chloe’s not sure if she wanted her to say that.

Chicago’s there, waiting for her. She knows, because she told him to meet her backstage after their performance. Nothing’s happened, not yet, and she knows she can’t drag him along for much longer.

He makes her happy.

That’s what she needs, right?

She makes her way over towards the side of the stage, to the exit, and follows the path down to where she knows he’ll be waiting.

“Chlo, wait!”

She turns around instantly.

It’s Beca.

Of course.

She’s panting a little.

“Are you okay?” She asks, a little worried still.

“I’m great.” She says, and for the first time, Chloe can tell that she means it.

She smiles then, and Beca returns it. Then, her eyes drift over to the right a little, and Chloe can tell she’s spotted Chicago. She watches at the smile fades from her friend’s face.

“I’m sorry.” She says.

“It’s okay.” Chloe just responds, taking a step closer so that she can grab Beca’s hand.

“No, I mean, I’m sorry.” She looks deep into Chloe’s eyes then, and the redhead squeezes her hand, silently urging her to go on. “I’m so sorry, Chlo, for everything. I know that an apology like this isn’t enough, and it never will be, but it’s a start. I want to be your friend.”

Chloe knows that tears have started to fall down her cheeks. “Bec, it’s okay.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not, Chloe. It’s really not okay. But I’m going to try to make it up to you.”

She starts to let go of her hand then, using her chin to gesture over to where Chicago is standing, still several feet behind them. “I want you to be happy. If that is with him then I can deal with that. You mean everything to me, Chloe. It just took me the longest time to realize.”

Chloe looks into her eyes, not believing what she thinks she’s hearing right now.

“Give me a reason.”

Beca frowns. “What- What do you mean?”

“Give me reason not to turn around and kiss him.”

The brunette shakes her head, a tear falling down her own cheek. “I have only one, but it’s not enough.”

“Tell me anyway.”

She can tell Beca is struggling, and she steps even closer. “I need to hear you say it, Beca, please.”

Finally, finally, Beca makes eye contact with her. “I love you. I love you so much, Chloe.”

She chokes out a sob, letting her head fall down on Beca’s shoulder. She’s relieved, and in incredible pain at the same time. She’s wanted to hear her say those exact words for the longest time, but now everything is different.

“It’s not enough,” Beca says, bringing her hand up to bury it in Chloe’s hair.

“It’s enough for me.”

“No.”

Chloe pulls back, looking into Beca’s eyes. The younger woman takes in a deep, shaky breath as she maintains eye contact. “I’m not the person you need right now, or deserve.”

“Beca I-“

“Please let me say this, okay? Chloe, over the past 10 months I’ve done nothing but make you unhappy. Me doing well right now and loving you doesn’t make up for all of that. I have a job now, in L.A, and you have vet school, and well.. him. You need to do what makes you happy, and I don’t think having me in your life like this is going to make you feel that way. I’m not- I’m not who I want to be, but I think I can be. Soon, hopefully. I want to be with you, truly, if that’s what you want, but not right now.”

Chloe’s shaking her head, desperately pulling on Beca’s hands. “You do make me happy, Bec.”

“Chlo, you’re crying.”

She wipes angrily at her cheeks, pretending to be okay. She knows that Beca is right, she knows, somewhere in the back of her mind.

“Point is, I want to make this right, and I want to do right by you, and to do that I have to fix myself first. I need to be sober, for real, and get my life together. And then, if you’ll still want me, I’ll be there waiting for you.”

Chloe starts crying more loudly now, wrapping her arms around Beca’s neck and pulling her in for a tight hug. “I love you so much, Bec.”

“Me too.”

“Promise you’ll wait?”

“Yes, Chloe.”

Beca’s POV9  months later

Beca Mitchell, successful music producer and artist.

That’s something she can say now.

She’s made it.

She’s living in L.A, has a job she actually loves, and friends that call her almost every day.

Aubrey and Amy have both been over twice already, and Beca could tell they were relieved to see how well she’s doing.

It wasn’t easy, in the beginning, in fact, it was one of the hardest things she’d ever have to do.

Leaving New York, leaving her friends, leaving Chloe, it was almost impossible.

But she didn’t drink.

She hasn’t had a drink ever since that one night.

She’s better and she knows she owes it to all of them. But they don’t want a thank you, they just want friendship.

But that won’t do. Not this time.

She sends Chloe a text. They’ve talked a lot, over the phone, and they’ve texted. But they haven’t seen each other, and Beca has no idea if she’s still seeing Chicago. They never talked about that stuff, not even for a minute. It was just too hard for her, and Chloe seemed to understand.

So they stayed best friends and supported each other in every other hard decision or work-related issue.

But Beca waited, of course.

And she was ready now.

Which is why she sends her a text.

Beca: Hey. I hope you’re doing okay. I just wanted to let you know that the Bellas are all coming down here in two weeks, for my album release, and I would really like you to be there too. I understand if you don’t want to.

She gets a response not even ten minutes later.

Chloe: I wouldn’t miss it for the world. xx

Aubrey’s POV

“Are you nervous?” Aubrey asks her as they stand next to each other.

They’re waiting for Chloe to come through the doors at the airport, and it’s taking forever. Or maybe it just feels like it is. Beca is shifting from one foot to the other and Aubrey can tell she’s freaking out.

“Yeah, of course. I uh- I don’t know.”

Aubrey knows what she’s talking about, and nods. She wants to tell Beca that it’s going to be okay, in fact, she wants to tell her a whole lot of information.

It gets frustrating being the person standing in between them.

It always has been, and although she knows they greatly appreciated her, each in their own way, it’s been painful for such a long time, and she’s ready for this to be over, for them to be happy. For her two best friends to finally get there.

It’s weird, being able to say two best friends.

Who knew, that when Beca had crossed her path all those years ago and she’d called her ‘bitch’ that they would get here.

She knows everything about the other woman.

She’s known her at her best and at her worst.

She met Beca when she was sarcastic, and never serious, and mean.

She learned who she really was when she sang, from her heart, and won worlds for them.

She became her friend when Beca was there for her, one night, when she just really needed someone to tell her to quit the bullshit, and don’t push herself too much.

She grew to love her when Beca made her first track, and had her success.

Then, she was there when Beca needed her, laying on the bathroom floor, wearing nothing more than a towel, an empty bottle in her hand crying because Chloe had left her and she was empty and couldn’t feel.

She was there when Beca screamed at her until she couldn’t speak anymore.

She was there when she came running to her apartment at 5AM, crying and sobbing and drunk.

But Chloe came back.

And Aubrey got her best friend back.

She was with Beca when she celebrated her six months of sobriety.

She was there when she finished her album and played the songs for Aubrey, the two of them celebrating deep into the night and smiling.

You’d think that it was lonely, and hard, being a friend to someone so broken.

But it wasn’t.

Because Beca has been there too for her, this entire time.

When Aubrey’s father had not shown up for her birthday, when she got in a fight with an old friend, when she lost her grandmother.

Beca was there.

No matter how bad she felt, no matter what state she was in, Beca was there.

And Beca was there when Aubrey came home, with the biggest smile on her face because she’d just kissed Stacie.

And she didn’t care that she was having a rough day, because Chloe had left four months ago, she just wrapped Aubrey up in a hug and told her she was happy for her.

And now?

Now they were both here, content, happy, relieved.

“Chloe.”

Aubrey snaps out of her thoughts to see Chloe rushing over towards the both of them, a big smile on her face.

She practically runs into Beca’s arms, wrapping them tightly around the other woman’s waist.

Aubrey watches as Beca buries her head in Chloe’s neck. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. You look great, Becs.”

Then, Chloe lets go and gives her a hug, squeezing her tighter and holding onto her longer when she wants to pull back. “Hey, Bree. It’s good to see you. I’ve missed you.”

“You too, Chlo.”

They’re okay.

They’ve made it.

Chloe’s POV

Aubrey was right.

Beca’s music is amazing.

It’s raw, and from her heart, and it makes them all tear up a little.

Some songs she sings, others she just stays behind her mixing table and works her magic.

All the Bellas are huddled together, their arms around each other while they dance and jump and celebrate.

“So uh-“ Beca starts then, having reached for the mic again. The club quiets down immediately, everyone wanting to hear what she has to say.

“I have one more song left. I know it wasn’t on the album, but this is kind of a special one to me.” She clears her throat, a clear sign that she’s nervous. She makes eye contact with Chloe then, who gives her a soft smile, urging her to go on.

“I want to dedicate this song to my friends, you guys know who you are, and especially to Aubrey, Amy and Chloe. Thanks, guys.”

Chloe looks at Aubrey then. “Did you know about this?”

The other woman holds up her arms. “I swear I didn’t.”

Chloe turns back to Beca then, who’s reached for a guitar. Chloe didn’t even know she could play.

A soft melody starts, and before she’s even sung one word, the tears are streaming down her face. Next to her, Cynthia Rose wraps an arm around her, and she reaches down to intertwine her fingers with Aubrey’s while the blonde leans her head on Stacie’s shoulder.

“Thank you for being there,Thank you for brushing my hair. Thank you for teaching me life isn’t fair, and showing me how to care.”

Beca starts, slowly, beautifully.

“Thank you for picking me up, when as usual, I fucked it up.Thank you for telling me all my mistakes, for lessons that life sometimes makes.”

She starts strumming a little faster then, going into the chorus.

“Before it gets too late,and the moment slips away.Until my final days,Thank you is all I can say.”

Chloe has stopped trying to hold back her tears now, letting them fall and fall until they’re clouding her vision. Beca looks up, and makes eye contact with her for a moment, and she manages to give her a watery smile.

Then, her gaze shifts over to Aubrey and Amy as she sings the next part.

“Sorry that I stayed out late, and all the nights you stayed awake.But I’m twenty-five and I still haven’t learned,but one day the tables will turn.”

She looks at Chloe again.

“And before it gets too late, and the moment slips away.Until my final days, Thank you is all I can say.

Thank you for leading the way,Thank you is all that I wanted to say.”

She strums the last chord, letting the sound slowly fade away.

Seconds later, the whole club is cheering and applauding, but Beca and Chloe only have eyes for each other.

Beca’s POVBeca finally finds Chloe about an hour later.

She’s been forced to do interviews, and photo-shoots and PR work and her mind is not there. She can’t think straight; she needs to be with Chloe.

She finally just tells her manager to find her again later, because there’s no way she’s going to give a half decent interview now anyway.

“Where’s Chloe?” She asks her friends when she reaches them.

They each come over to give her a hug, Aubrey lingering longer than the others.

“Bree?”

“She’s outside.”

“Is she-“

“She’s okay, Beca. Just overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Go talk to her.”

She nods, then smiles at her other friends and promises she’ll catch up with them later tonight.

“Thanks. I love you guys.”

Chloe’s POV

Chloe is leaning against the wall of the club, staring off into the sky.

“Hey.” Beca says, causing the older girl to turn around and face her. “Can I take you somewhere, just for a bit?”

Chloe nods. “Yeah.”

Beca’s driver is already waiting for them, and Chloe blindly follows. He apparently doesn’t even need to ask where to go, automatically driving in the right direction.

They get off on the beach.

“I come here a lot,” Beca explains, “Just to clear my mind, you know.”

Chloe nods, following Beca down until they get close to the water. The brunette sits down then, gesturing to Chloe to do the same.

Normally, she’d care about her expensive dress, but right now, sitting next to Beca on a quiet beach with nothing but the stars above them is all she wants.

“Your song was amazing, Bec.”

Beca smiles softly, looking up at the sky instead of at her. “I just- I didn’t know how to thank you, all of you. Music is the only way I’ve ever known.”

Chloe doesn’t say anything, just lets her head fall down on the brunette’s shoulder. They’re both thinking about it, she knows.

“Can I ask you something?” Beca finally starts, and Chloe can tell she’s nervous. Her left hand has started to play around with the sand, letting it run through her fingers.

“Did I wait?” Chloe guesses, causing Beca to whip her head around and raise an eyebrow.

“Uh. Yeah.”

She smiles. “Yes, Beca, I waited. Of course.”

The brunette lets out a breath of relief. “I- so you and Chicago didn’t work out?”

Chloe’s quiet for a second, not sure how to respond to this.

“Can I say something and you have to promise me that you’re not going to freak out?”

“Uh. Sure, yeah. I promise.”

The redhead sits up straight then, turning her body around so that she’s facing Beca, the ocean now behind her.

“I never kissed him. After we talked, I told him I wasn’t feeling well and that was it. I left and we never spoke again.”

“But, Chlo-“

“I know, I know he could have made me happy, maybe, for a few months, but that’s not what I wanted, what I want.”

Beca shakes her head, a tear falling down her cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making you wait, or whatever.”

“Beca, stop. You made the right decision, I mean, look at you!”

She smiles softly. “I want you to be happy too.”

“I am. Really, I am.”

Beca seems somewhat relieved to hear that, at least. It’s the truth, she’s been happy, happier than she has been for a long time. Just knowing that Beca was out there, feeling better and living her dream made her happy too.

And the fact that she now knew they could have a future together.

She would have waited 5 more years if that’s what it took.

“I love you, Chloe.”

“I love you too.”

She can tell something is still bothering her. “What’s wrong?”

“What happens now? What happens if I kiss you? You leave in two days and then that’s it? I can only see you from time to time? We’ll call? I’m not saying I don’t want that, because I’d still want to be with you even if I only got one day every 10 years, but I need to know.”

Chloe smiles, understanding.

“So, and again, don’t freak out, I actually got into the vet school in L.A a couple of months ago. I applied for a transfer between the two programs, and I’ve got a spot waiting for me, if I accept it.”

A smile grows on Beca’s face. “Are you going to?”

“I want to.”

“I want you to.”

A tear falls down Beca’s cheek and she reaches out to wipe it away.

“Can I kiss you now?” She asks, and Beca nods.

Chloe leans forward and connects their lips. Finally.

She moves her lips softly against Beca’s, applying just the right amount of pressure. She can taste the salty flavor of the tears that fall down the brunette’s cheeks, and it makes her push a little closer, bringing a hand up to cup Beca’s cheek while she traces her bottom lip with her tongue.

Beca immediately grants her access into her mouth, letting Chloe deepen the kiss.

Their tongues brush against each other in a perfect melody, pulling and pushing, while their hands cup cheeks and wrap around necks.

After what feels like minutes, Beca pulls back from the kiss, but not before placing one last small peck on her lips.

“Oxygen.” She explains, a soft smile lingering on her lips.

Chloe chuckles. “Overrated, right?”

Beca nods in response, then leans her head down on Chloe’s shoulder while the other woman wraps an arm around her.

“I kinda don’t want to leave, but I also don’t want to abandon the other Bellas at that horrible launch party.”

Chloe laughs softly. “Well, good, because I texted them, and they’ll be here soon.”

Right then, she can hear a group of girls chatting and laughing behind them, and she turns around to see her friends walking up to them.

Aubrey stops behind them and gives them each a kiss on the top of their heads before sitting down next to Beca, with Stacie next to her on her other side.

Nobody says anything, they just stare at the ocean and enjoy the peaceful moment together.

“I really love you guys.”

Beca finally says, and Chloe leans in once more to place her lips against Beca’s briefly.

“We love you too, and we’re all incredibly proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you guys.”

Beca leans forward, looking at her friends, each of them smiling through tears. Then, she leans back against Chloe, smiling contently.

She’s got her ticket for the long way ‘round.

The one with the prettiest of views.

Hope you enjoyed.

The song is called ‘Thank you’ by Miss Montreal and you can listen to it here if you want to.