#the elbow-high diaries

[hanzajesthanza]

something positive about the witcher 4 trailer that i’ve not seen anyone mention, maybe because it’s cdpr so it’s already to be expected that the visual design will be peak…

and maybe because i need an eyewash station after all that netflix has thrown at us…

but it felt great to see new witcher visuals with very present slavic design and motifs, the peasant girl’s dress and her crown, the atmosphere and setting.

again, maybe the bar is low because of netflix, this is just cdpr doing what they did great in witcher 3, but it’s satisfying to see the witcher retain a strong visual style and identity :p obviously they would be insane to change directions now, but it’s also not guaranteed (witcher 2 famously being more generic fantasy inspired, design-wise)

i’m just happy i finally got the “oooh, witcher” feeling when i saw it, which hasn’t happened in a while i guess

like doesn’t this look so gooood

[trianglegoddess]

New Ink, Old Scars

Tattoo artist meet-cute au bbyyyyy

Part 2 of my meet cute series, also on AO3!

-----

Eddie is setting up his station when his new client walks in. He had made the appointment online so Eddie hadn’t actually met him, and well, he’s certainly not complaining. 

His new client is absolute eye candy. He’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts and an older looking t-shirt, soft and well-worn and well-loved. They had texted a bit back and forth on social media, just so Eddie could have his design ready by the time of the appointment, and he had clearly followed Eddie’s advice to dress comfortably. 

It was a pretty sick design, too, not something that would really seem to be up this particular client’s alley. He looks like your typical Good American Boy, with his tanned skin and freckles and moles and perfect floopy hair that makes Eddie want to eat drywall. 

Once he’s done setting up, he walks over to the counter, greets him with a, “Hey, Steve, right? I’m Eddie,” and internally high-fives himself for how chill he was able to be. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” Steve says. 

They chat as Steve hands over his I.D. for the paperwork he then fills out once Eddie makes a copy of it. And it’s kind of…Immediate, Eddie thinks. Sometimes he really has to work to get along with some of his clients, or they don’t really speak at all, but this guy, he’s a fucking riot. He’s witty, and a little bitchy in a mean-girl sorta way that makes Eddie want to write Mr. Eddie Harrington in his nonexistent diary over and over. 

The conversation steers towards music, and Eddie’s old pipeline dream of making it big while they size the design up. Steve is getting it on the back of his forearm from his wrist to his elbow, and he gave Eddie complete creative freedom. Once he gets the stencil made, he takes Steve back to sanitize the skin and stick the stencil on. 

All the while they talk and talk and talk, and Eddie only interrupts the flow of the conversation to instruct Steve to hold his arm a certain way, and to lay down on his stomach so he can tattoo the back of his arm comfortably. 

Usually Eddie gets lost in the work, absorbed in the way he pulls a line to make it perfect, focusing on just how far the needles are going when he gets to the shading so he doesn’t cut Steve. Now, though, he just lets himself go on autopilot. Steve is going on about how his nickname was “The Hair” in highschool, talks about how Eddie’s curls are really nice, talks about how Eddie should do certain treatments that can protect them even more, and Eddie’s never been interested in hair care, never been interested in any of this stuff, but he’s pretty sure he’d be over the moon about golf if Steve was the one explaining it to him. 

When they’re done Steve waits patiently while Eddie goes through the process of taking photos and videos for his socials (and if he takes a little longer than he should nobody but he will ever know), before throwing some second skin on him and a piece of paper with the aftercare instructions on it. 

There’s a sort of ache when Steve leaves, like he’s suddenly missing something, missing a part of him. 

He ignores the feeling, and instead gets ready for his next client. 

The next morning after he’s posted the photo of the nail bat Steve got, he sees a multitude of comments. Some are from the ones who comment regularly on his art, some are bots, and some are…Children? 

Eddie can’t help but pull a piece of hair in front of his mouth, twirled around his finger as he reads through them. Steve is arguing with some kids named ‘EatMyDust’ and ‘MadMax,’ and it’s dumb and endearing and-and he kind of feels like a teenage girl, twirling his hair and kicking his feet like he is, unable to help the grin that spreads across his face. 

Later that night he receives an apology from Steve about his battle with the children (which he lost, MadMax was brutal). He also gets a question about his availability for next week. 

It’s how he ends up tattooing Steve again. Steve had requested a robin on his chest, right above his heart. 

The design itself is pretty simple, but it’s still a more tender area for most, which he informs Steve of as he’s getting the design ready. 

“I think I can handle it,” Steve says easily, and then. 

And then the motherfucker winks at him. 

Eddie is going to spontaneously combust on the spot. 

He tries not to let it affect his speech too much as he instructs Steve to take his shirt off for the stencil. And, even though Steve was being coy about it, Eddie understands immediately that Steve is going to be just fine with this tattoo. 

On his abdomen there are mottled scars, ugly and raised and almost matching Eddie’s in a way that’s uncanny. He doesn’t ask though. For one, it’s just rude, but also he’s a professional. It’s not the first time he’s seen bad scar tissue. He’s tattooed burn victims and people who want to cover up their self harm scars and all sorts of other people, all sorts of other reasons for these kinds of markings. He spars a glance at Steve’s abdomen, and that’s it. 

Steve, for the most part, seems relatively unshy about the whole ordeal. He had talked about being into sports pretty much his entire life, and he’s sure that that has something to do with it. Being in those locker rooms for all of the important parts of his youth probably desensitized him to this sort of thing long ago. 

Still, when they’re letting the stencil dry, Eddie can’t help but run a hand over his own stomach, over his own scars. 

“You can ask, you know,” Steve says. “If you want.”

“Only if you wanna talk about ‘em, man.”

“You know Hawkins? Small little backwater town that had that earthquake a few years back?” Steve asks him. Eddie nods. He had been in that backwater town, had been in that earthquake, and once the dust had settled he had gotten the fuck outta dodge. That town had never done much for him anyway, and the earthquake had been as good a reason as any to leave. “I got stuck in all of it,” Steve continues. “Most of it is from the debris and what not; I had been walking downtown where a fault line split the ground up.”

“No shit,” Eddie says. He had been on the fault line, had a very similar experience to Steve in that sense. It had split his trailer in half, and he and Wayne had had to figure their shit out pretty quick afterwards. 

Eddie lifts up his own shirt then, shows Steve his own scars. His are a lot deeper, travel a lot farther, all the way up to his neck but they match, and that’s gotta mean something, right? 

He hears Steve’s breath catch as he looks down at Eddie’s own torso as Eddie explains his own experiences in that very same earthquake. 

After that, the tattoo feels weirdly intimate, with this sort of charged energy between them. They talk, just as much as last time, but this time their voices are softer, gentler, as they talk about their own traumas surrounding the event. 

“Sometimes I feel bad, though,” Steve tells him. “I had pushed the kids out of the way, you know, I mean-I didn’t even think about it, I just did it. But then when all that shit fell on me, and when the earthquake didn’t immediately stop, I think-I know I scared them. And I think sometimes they think I’m just gonna disappear. And I feel bad for being the one to make them go through that-that uncertainty. It’s scary, especially around their age.”

“How old were they?” 

“Fourteen, except Lucas’ little sister, she was eleven. And now they’re all graduating in a month, and I wanna be there for them but-”

“But it’s hard,” Eddie finishes. “I’ll go with you, if you want.”

Eddie knows exactly what compels him to offer. It’s his big, stupid, fat crush on this actual literal life saver. He’d brave his shitty backwater hometown for Steve. Hell, right now with how strong this crush is he’d probably do anything for him. 

“Really?” Steve asks. 

“Really,” Eddie says. 

After that, Eddie finishes the tattoo pretty quickly. It’s a beautiful robin with irises and snapdragons framing it, all bright colors and an almost sort of impressionistic feeling to it. Then it’s the aftercare and a promise to coordinate their trip to Hawkins at a later date. 

Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to take him up on the offer, not really. He seems like the lone wolf-protector kind of guy, someone who thinks they need to face their traumas by themselves to avoid being a burden to those around them. Steve doesn’t text him, outside of thanking him for the pictures of the tattoo Eddie sends his way. 

It’s why he’s a little surprised when Steve comes in the next night, too late for there to be any time to actually tattoo him. He looks flushed and almost uncertain as he changes his weight from foot to foot while he waits for Eddie to greet him at the counter, carefully angling his body to hide whatever he’s got behind his back.

“Stevie!” He greets, unable to help the smile that splits his face in two. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Does your bandage need to be changed out?”

“Wha-no, uh, no. The bandage is fine, no leaking or anything. I just-um. Well.”

Without saying anything else, Steve pulls out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. They’re marigolds and daisies, and they smell fucking amazing. Eddie gently takes them, wide-eyed and dumbstruck as he looks between the flowers and Steve and back again and back again.

“I, uh-would you. Are you busy?” Steve asks. His face is beat red, and he’s running a hand through his hair and he can’t meet Eddie’s eyes for more than a second before he looks away again. 

“Uh-No. I mean-not after I’m done closing up, I mean. I just have to mop and then I’m all yours.”

“Really?” Steve asks, and it’s so fucking hopeful, so fucking endearing, and Eddie practically melts. 

Eddie nods, hiding his smile behind the flowers. “Really,” he says. Steve just grins back at him. 

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

“I’ll go with you,” Eddie says. “If you want.”

Steve softens all around. His shoulders relax, and the nervous tension he had been holding himself with dissipates as he takes a confident step forward. 

“I would like that very much, Eds.”

A month later, Eddie gets to meet the kids that Steve goes on and on about, and he meets the Queen of Steve’s Heart, Platonic Soulmate with a Capital ‘P,’ and she gives him a knowing look and a wink and it’s-

It’s good. Great, even. 

It’s great.

[necrocrafter]

MCD Episode 1 Transcript

I apologize for the wait and for how long this post is. I was honestly jumping back and forth on what was too much or what wasn't enough because I wanted to ensure everyone was able to find what they were looking for. Whether it was only lore bits, details on the setting or just fun observations. I just said fuck it so you guys get everything. If you find or have any critiques on how to make this more organized, then by all means go for it! Without further ado, I hope you like this transcript.

() - side notes 

(( )) - my commentary

[] - Timestamps

{} - MCCA Villager dialogue

Introduction [0:00]

Jess starts off by introducing the 2nd season of diaries

Shows us a signed book in her inventory that is titled "Diaries". It holds entries of all her adventures (in days) of each episode of the previous season (which I think is now non-canon and unconnected to Diaries). 

"I did a ton of crazy stuff. I had a family, I raised a village, I got a Pegasus and a unicorn! It was crazy, I even became the Avatar at some point. But like all good adventures, they come to an end. However, a new one is beginning right here, right now." [0:20-0:40]

The diary ends in, "My journey has ended, but a new one is just beginning…”

Jess shows us the little "headspace" room she's in with her cat, Johnny Cat. She puts the previous diary away on a shelf before heading towards a desk to begin a new saga of adventures.

Episode Starts [1:05]

The opening scene starts at the edge of the village of Phoenix Drop, where the forest (a mix of birch and oak) line meets the last pathway around a farm plot. A man in chainmail outlined with a golden colored metal with a helmet that only allows to see his brown eyes and the barest hint of brown hair peeks through (Zenix) is speaking with another man in distinct armor, white garbs with a long black cross-like symbol on the front and chainmail; his face completely covered by his helm (Garroth)

"What are we gonna do? Since our last lord passed away, the people have been going crazy. Not to mention, we're running low on local resources. And we have no connection to the other villages." -Zenix

"Zenix, do not worry. I have a plan." -Garroth 

As they speak with each other, Zenix turns around sharply, his head whipping around before his body turns towards a perceived disturbance.

"Wait, did you hear that?" - Zenix 

The frame zooms out to a man cloaked in black and green who is hiding behind an oak tree a few paces away. A single green eye peeks out from behind a curtain of brown hair, his face carefully hidden away in a black hooded cowl outlined in grey with an equally grey neck gaiter. He's wearing a long-sleeved green top with a brown leather waist belt (?) with a gold buckle. His hands are covered in elbow length (?) brown fingerless arm gloves (Vylad)

The mysterious man turns and takes off into the forest

Cutscene Ends - Gameplay/RP begins [1:28]

Aphmau has spawned into the world, with the typical Minecraft starting day cycle beginning. She's wearing a purple crop top, grey half gloves, short purple daisy duke's (?) and black knee-high boots with purple laces-outline. She's in the middle of an oak forest in a small clearing in front of a water hole.

She's addressing the viewers, "Day 1, and now it is time to, of course, find some shelter before the night falls."

Looking towards the sky above the treetops, she sees the sun just rising above. "As you can see, the day has just begun, so I've got plenty of time." Grassy oak-birch forest with alliums, orange tulips, and azure bluets. The sky is clear with faint wisp of clouds.

She begins to head through the forest, "There's a lot of trees around here, so I should be good in terms of getting like a crafting bench going and all that kind of stuff but let's just go ahead and try to find like a nice little hole." ((Real)) 

Aphmau continues to climb up hills, past birch trees, and through short grass sprinkled with roses (poppy’s), red & orange tulips.

She stops to examine small craters in the ground, displaying dissatisfaction at not hiding a deep hole

"That...that's not a-that's a terrible hole! I'm not going to go in there, but let's try to find, like a nice little hole or something I can-" 

She continues to wander past the hole and up to the crest of the hill. Only to stop at seeing a person in the distance.

Aphmau sees a mysterious hooded man in green and black (player username, Vylad) in the distance, punching a birch tree, gathering logs, and she runs in his direction, running down the hill and past the thick, low hanging, tree branches.

"Hey, there's a guy over there. Come here, I need to talk to you! I need to find a nice little hole. If you happen to know like" 

She stops as she comes upon his previous location, he has disappeared 

"Wh-where'd he go?- Oh my god, he did..." 

She comes upon the birch tree he'd been punching and finds that he left it floating. She gazes at it in disdain and takes a quick peeved inhale before looking around. 

"...that really upsets me. The fact that-" [1:50-2:05]

While she's distracted by the floating logs of the tree, he waits in the background for her attention to once again find him. She continues chasing after him, to which he flees; seemingly leading her somewhere

Through clearings, flower patches (peonies, rose bush patches, dandelions), past a rather large watering hole.

"Come here! Hey! Come here, I need to talk to you-You just left that tree...you just really left that tree undone. You just literally were-" she keeps running after him, not stopping even when he runs past two men at the edge of a farm plot of wheat. 

"Oh my god, that guy is getting attacked by that guard."

The man leads her straight to two guards, nametags reading Zenix and Garroth. He runs past Garroth, who gives chase and attacks him whilst doing so. (Garroth hits him once (?))

Aphmau continues past them, even as Garroth walks past her to return to his spot. She looks around but sees he's disappeared.

"Where-Where'd he go? Where'd he go?...um alright. But...he's gone, but ya know what? He led me to a village. And there's some awesome guards here. This guard is pretty cool. What are you doing?" She turns back towards the two men before her and turns to speak with Garroth first. [2:30]

"I don't think anyone in the village will listen to any of the guards. Not after how terrible the last Lord was..." -Garroth

"Now that the Lord is gone, the village is in chaos. What are we going to do?" -Zenix

"Oh...oh! What kind of chaos is the village going through?" She travels around the wheat farm edge heading into the village onto the wooden plank pathway, past small huts, and a village library. 'Cause I could help out. I mean, I just spawned in the world so I could absolutely like take over this village and become the new terrible lord... I mean, awesome lord."

She stops at a tight intersection with a well in the middle. "...oh my god. OH MY GOD, there are so many people in here! Literally in this water!" ((The Well has claimed its victims))

She takes a horrified yet stunned look at how many people are trapped in the village well whilst also being greeted by the other town citizens like it's a normal occurrence. ((You know that one The Hole meme? Yeah, it feels like that)) [2:56]

The first person to greet her is Emmalyn the Librarian {"Greetings.}, followed by Dale the Guard {"Oh, hello. Aphmau, was it"}, Stephanie the Farmer {"Hey, what's up?"}, Jeremy the Guard {"Oh, hello there"}, Aidan the Farmer {Good day to you, Aphmau"}

She tries to go past The Well as she contemplates

"I don't know where that other guy went, but I-oh crap."

Not watching where she was walking, she falls into a hole. ((LMAO))

"Oh hey, here's my hole. Look at that." It's a small cave tunnel filled with stone, gravel, dirt, and large veins of coal. "This is a nice hole to begin in."

She begins to climb her way out the hole through a small gap to the surface next to another hut

"All right, so really, let's go ahead and see what's going on in this village”

Gets greeted by more villagers; Arthur the Farmer {"You must be new around here"}, Brendan the Farmer {"Oh, hello. Aphmau, was it?"}

She wanders back towards The Well, trying to get a vantage point of where to go next.

"So I got a lot of people here, and there's a lot of people literally taking a little nice bubble bath."

She gets greeted by a woman named Molly, the farmer, who is also trapped in The Well {"Hi, stranger."}

"And, um, I don't see that-"

She's cut off as she falls into the same hole she fell into moments ago ((Bruh, LMAO))

"Gosh darn it, I did the same thing again."

She climbs out and glares at The Well

"That is really going to hurt somebody, and uh, that's not going to be a good thing, and there's-"

She climbs the rooftop of a small hut and then looks down and sees a man with green eyes, black hair, in pale-bright green clothes, staring at her (Brendan). She stares back.

"Hey, look, there's like a bolin skin there, and who is that-?" [3:28]

She hops off the roof but is cut off as she, once again, falls back into the same hole. ((LMFAO and she teases Laurance for falling into holes when she's just as bad))

"Oh my goodness, that's the third time!"

She stands next to The Well, looking at Brendan, who hasn't stopped watching her.

"All right, first time shame on you, second time shame on me third time I don't know what's going on."

She turns her attention forward, down a long pathway, past two large farms. The one on the left has 4 plots; 3 of the 4 plots are in rows of 2, which contain wheat all next to each other, while the last row are carrots.

"But all right, so we got Brendan the farmer, and we have a bunch of stuff to work with."

The one on the right has the same setup principle as the left one, but a plot of carrots is set in between that separates the 3 plots of wheat. (Left: Wheat, Wheat, Wheat, Carrots | Right: Wheat, Carrots, Wheat, Wheat) [3:42]

She takes a look at the crops while slowly walking down the pathway

"We also have a lot of food here, which is something that was about to be a problem, but now that I'm actually here in this village, I don't have to worry about that anymore."

She gets atop the right farm's edge and begins to punch the carrots without, initially, replanting them

"All right, so let's go ahead and get settled in here. I don't think that they're going to mind if I'm here."

She proceeds out the farm, climbing up the hill towards a woman and a man who was watching her in the farm. The man happens to be Brendan, once again, watching her, but from inside a patch of lilacs ((omfg, he scared the HECK out of me. I didn't realize he was there until I looked at the paused screen)) [3:56]

“I mean Lilith the farmer. L-Lili-Lili-sorry. Lin-Linda-Lil-Lydia the farmer!”

She continues on past them up the hill until she hits the wood pathway, turning left, quickly looking around at a medium sized house with a chicken yard in the back and another farm of wheat before turning right back towards the center of the village back to The Well.

“All right so there's a lot of stuff that needs to go on here, but I think I'm going to go ahead and settle in this village. Um, I know I was looking for a hole but I kind of already found it down below, especially inside of the nice little well.”

She proceeds to run back towards the beginning edges of town, zeroing in on an oak tree.

“Um so first things first let's go ahead and start with the crafting bench. The basics of Minecraft. Literally visit-visiting the basics of Minecraft.”

She then proceeds to choose a tree near where Garroth and Zenix are still standing watch, and proceeds to punch the middle log, circling it whilst delivering precise precision jabs, collecting the logs from bottom to top. ((I just KNOW Zenix and Garroth are losing their minds LMAO)) [4:25]

“Um I think what I'm going to do is, I'm going to stay in this village now and uh, ooh! First achievement.”

“Aww I always love getting that first achievement because it's just like you're building your way up and I might even try to keep track of like, the achievements that I have. So that way I can try to get them all but I'm sure that will happen in due time. But let's go ahead get this village started.”

“Um, first let's start by fixing that stupid hole that's-that's incredibly annoying.”

She stops to look at The Well and the people stuck bobbing inside [4:50]

“Um and saving those poor people down in The Well. All right um, uh let's see this is nice-”

She stops and whirls around as she hears and sees the distinct sound of a burning zombie lumbering from the hole as it climbs to attack the vulnerable people in The Well.

“Oh, oh my god! there that zombie is about to destroy those people and I just realized that I spawned in with a bunch of really cool stuff!” [5:00] (Hotbar: 6 ½ health, 5 ½ hunger. Pet wand 1st slot, Doggy charm 2nd slot, Command Emblem 3rd slot, 33 Carrots 4th slot, 5 oak wood 5th slot)

All while she casually jumps from her perch above on the path down in front of the zombie. Punching it with the oak wood logs in hand.

She goes to show off her hotbar items, focused on them whilst also acknowledging the 2 other zombies that come burning and lumbering past her, focused on the helpless villagers in The Well.

“Um right here I have a Doggy charm, a Command Elm, and a Pet Wand which I'm going to use to destroy-!!”

She goes to try and hit them with the wand, but it does not work, retreating back before becoming determined (This type of creature must be under the effect of a potion of weakness to be tamed) [5:08]

“Oh okay…I can't use that okay. I'm just going to destroy them with my own bare hands!! I'll show these villagers how hardcore I can be.”

Knocking them back into the hole, kills both of them without taking damage

“There we go I saved you guys from the zombies.”

She earns and collects the XP and 2 zombie brains in slot 6 before climbing out the hole back to the surface.

“Awesome all right so you know we're going to have like a little rocky start here not as Rocky as these people because they're just they're just they're just terribly terribly doomed and hey there's a crafting bench here, so I don't even have to worry and why did I-”

Aphmau explores a large house next to The Well and finds it to be a Library, with books, a table + benches, and a crafting bench. She goes to use it but instead of interacting with it, she ends up in Brendans NPC interface which causes her to eat a zombie brain. She gets the hunger effect (Last for 30 seconds)

“Brenden you made me eat a zombie brain I…don't want to see you again! Just, just-just follow me, please follow me here. You need a…you need a since you're a farmer, I'm going to take you all the way over here because you could, this could be like, your little farmhouse Brendan yeah. Or Bolin since his skin is actually like a Bolin kind of skin.”

She leads him down the pathway past the farms and sets him up in a large house across from a very tiny house ((BABE HOUSE))

“So I'm going to put you right in here since I-I have some-some stuff to spare. You can come in here. See come on you, can do it. Aww man, I just housed one person-”

He then proceeds to run out the house ((me too buddy))

“Hey, hey! Where are you going!?!”

He proceeds to turn right back around to her ((he’s so real for this cause I’d be scared of this random scary woman too))

“Stay right here this is your house now Brendan it's nobody else's house but yours you have your nice little place.”

She leaves and heads back up the path

“I'm already being a better to-be-Lord than the other person was.”

She walks past 3 people but only one says anything {Adian the Farmer: Hi, stranger} [6:25]

“Hello, Aiden the farmer!”

“All right, Aiden is doing his thing, uh wow so now that we have Aiden, we have a lot of farmers here. I'm going to have to see what I can do as far as helping them all out.”

She goes back into the Library where she interacts with the crafting bench (taking a single plank, making wood to make sticks, and making a wooden sword and placing everything in her hotbar but the sword in her inventory) [6:38]

She crafts a sword, wooden axe and pickaxe

She heads outside and is greeted by 2 people: Stephanie the Farmer {Are you new around here?} and Jeremy the Guard {I haven’t seen you around before.} [7:13]

“Plus, we have a bunch of carrots, we have some zombie brains, um and we're going to free these people right here because they are just utterly dying.”

She observes while eating 3 carrots and 2 more people call out to her: Kent the Guard {Oh, hello there.} and Molly the Farmer {Greetings.}

She takes her pickaxe and destroys 2 cobblestone walls

“So let's see, I would at least like to have like, a nice little place settled into-”

“There we go, your free people run!” she watches as they all practically stay stuck only a few guards rushing out “Get out of there…” Dale the Guard free’s himself only to immediately fall back in just as Molly pulls herself out, turning to watch him fall only to turn towards Aphmau.

“Don't-don't okay…Molly just like, ‘hey I was in my bath, this is what this how I-this is how I get clean every now and then’”.

She looks to Stephanie, Emmalyn, and Molly, telling them to follow her. Stephanie { Where are you taking me?} Emmalyn {Where are we going?} Molly {Okay. I’ll come along} ((Molly, love, where are your survival instincts)) [7:43]

“All right follow me how about, you follow me. You follow me. I'm going to save the babes first. Come on babes, let's go let's go.” They follow and she takes them down the path to the tiny house across from where she put brenden.

“I'm going to-I'm going to move all the babes out this way! Oh look! They're all following me. They-they are all babes holy crap. All right so this is going to be the Babe House right here. Come on-come on in ladies. So you stay right here. Um or follow me”

The ladies then proceed to repeatedly open and close the door rapidly

“Actually if you guys-if you guys could stop opening the door that would be fantastic. It's kind of just slamming in my ear. Um, alright so you guys just stay outside of the Babe House, how-how about that? You stay there and then you stay there. There we go. Alright, so this is the Babe House right now.

She walks back to The Well

“Um I saved them, they are now in depth-depth, not they're not in depth, they're in debt to me.” [8:22-8:29]

She looks at the guards and people still stuck in The Well

“...and the guards, well the guards are really dumb. No wonder nobody's gonna listen to them!”

Acting- “I say villagers it's time we take a bath together, a bath we can't get out of!”

“All right so I don't think…I think the guards are pretty much doomed…um yeah they're doomed”, she says as she puts the cobblestone back, trapping those inside

She chops some oak trees nearby using her wooden axe

“Least try to upgrade my weapons, try to get some um..maybe a nice bed inside of my place? Um I don't even know if I'm allowed to have like the big house. I'm assuming that it's, I mean, I haven't seen like a Lord's house or anything around here, so I'm assuming that all these houses are up for grabs since the village is really kind of in like, quite literally, in chaos.” [8:57-9:18]

Walking back past The Well both Derek and Emma the guard both say, {“You must be new around here.”} [9:18]

“I-I actually am new around here and I actually haven't properly introduced myself.”

She looks into The Well and see’s everyone still in there Derek the Guard, Emma the Guard, Dale the Guard, and Kent the Guard. With Dale asking, {“Are you new around here?”} while Kent says, {“Hi, stranger.”} ((omg I did NOT remember Dale being in The Well THIS much-))

Aphmau goes to interact (chat) with Kent, laughing at seeing all the guards bobbing in the water

“Um Kent the guard..all the..nobody's going to listen to you guys if you keep acting like that.” [9:24-9:30]

He replies back with, {“You heard this from where?”}

Aphmau responds with, “I've heard things from everywhere, actually.” ((That sounds mad spooky ngl))

She goes to walk away but sees another guard trying to pass her fall into The Well [9:35]

“Yeah, see the guards just keep, they just keep going inside! they are so bad-”

She then falls into The Hole ((LMAO))

“-I got to fix all of this!”

She decides to take the opportunity to mine some stone (gathers 7 cobblestone)

“As I continue this series, I'm definitely going to have to make sure that I do a lot of farming.” [9:50-9:56]

She collects some coal from a nearby vein (collects 8 pieces)

Gets distracted by a name tag through the cobblestone (probably a villager in The Well) and then hears a cave noise

“What is that? What is that..what is that noise, that was creepy. That was like, really creepy!”

She goes back to mining stone as she notices that the sun is beginning to set (gathers 6 more cobblestone, making 13 in total)

She heads out The Hole [10:50]

She’s greeted by Cameron the Baker{“Oh, hello there.”}

She cheerfully chirps back, “Hello there, Cameron the baker! It's good to see you.”

She spies Lydia the Farmer on an adjacent rooftop [10:58]

“We have a lot of farmers here.”

She goes into the library just as Derek and Emma the guards call out to her again Derek {Oh, hello. Aphmau, was it?} and Emma{Are you new around here?} [11:01]

Aphmau heads to the crafting bench and begins to craft a stone sword

Adian the farmer pops in {You must be new around here} before going to stand on the crafting bench, looking at her [11:08-11:10]

“Why do people keep coming and Stan-why do people keep coming and-!” he suddenly disappears

Flabbergasted and slightly panicked, Aphmau looks around the library, calling out, “where did you go!?... What is going on? Where did he go? Where did he-”, outside the glass windows shows that it’s almost night time and she then heads back to the crafting bench to then finish up

“I'm assuming he went to bed but that was just creepy as heck! I mean, come on! You don't just stand on somebody's crafting table, look at them, and then disappear! It's completely rude!”

Aphmau quickly makes a stone shovel, stone pickaxe, and axe

“Okay, I'll go with it, if that's how this village wants to play. This is a little weird.” [11:34]

Aphmau then proceeds to make some torches, stating, “Of course, I need some torches, and I think we're going to set down some torches here in the village, if there aren't some there already. I don't think there are, uh, because just traveling around, I haven't seen anything crazy, but I'm going to go ahead and just..you know, kind of light up my area.” (Made 16 torches, placing 2 in the library before heading out; 14 left)

Looking around, night has completely fallen. She spies the guards nearby, still in The Well.

“I feel so bad for those guards. Okay, um so… I can't help but laugh at them because they're just being silly now.” (Placing 2 more torches on either side of the libraries door; 12 left)

Almost falling into The Hole again, she takes the rest of her cobblestone and covers the top half up

“Now- Oh god, I hear zombies.”

Going down into The Hole and places a few torches as she travels through it (5 torches; only 7 left)

“Let's just start to get the mine going, um, so I can start digging down deep and finding out feelings and stuff like that-” as she walks past another opening, placing another torch, she sees two mobs (creeper and skeleton) in the entrance but only the creeper goes to attack her, “oh God there's a creeper, oh god there's a skeleton.”

Drawing her stone sword, Aphmau fights the creeper off. Hitting, retreating, repeat.

“Go away Creeper! Shoo shoo shoo!”

She successfully kills it as it drops XP (3?) and two gunpowder. She runs to collect it, turns the corner and see’s the skeleton right there

She kills it, only losing 1 heart of damage and getting 1 arrow and XP

Taking a breath and telling herself, “she’s fine, she’s good.”

“I hear zombies and I don't like it. I don’t like it at all.”

She goes and mines a nearby wall, thinking the zombies are behind the stone (collects 12 cobblestone; 13 cobblestone in hotbar slot 6) before turning back to the coal vein from earlier (collects 8 coal)

Still seeing the nametag, she digs towards them to see if she can get them out (collects 19 cobble; 32 cobblestone in total)

“I still see more like, little health bar thingies, down that way, so let me go take a look in here, see if I can find something. ‘Cuz these guards-are they drowning? Like are they legit drowning?”

She mines a block and The Well water rushes past her

“Oh God! See I have a feeling that this would be a wonderful idea if-if-”

She places the block back and realizes the name tag is gone [13:58]

“Oh my God! Are they dead!? Did they die, did they drown!? WHAT! They're gone…”

Aphmau goes and mines some stone + coal (12 cobble and 2 coal; 44 cobblestone in total)

“I'm a little sad, but at least we know why the village isn't going to listen to the guards anymore, because they're just going to get themselves murtalized and stuff ((The little sniffle jess makes ;-;))

She leaves the small cave through the furthest exit, leading into the woods by the farms [14:32]

Collecting flowers along the way as goes back towards the housing area, she thinks about her next move, contemplating how she hasn’t properly interacted with anyone (collects 2 white tulips and lilacs)

Going towards The Well, she sees a group of 5 zombies (3 being attacked by the guards in The Well, and 2 she kills herself) [14:57]

“Oh gosh. Oh gosh! There they are, there's a zombies! They were trying to attack the guards”

Noticing the guards hitting the zombies from The Well

“Oh, the guards are smart, they're hiding themselves…you cowards don't do that. You got to come out and fight. Fight for your right… to party.” ((lol))

Aphmau breaks the barriers once more, with Dale immediately rushing out only to turn around ((with the speed)), knocking both he and Emma the Guard, who was almost out The Well, right back in ((LMFAO))

Seeing this, Aphmau gives up and walks away leaving The Well sides open

“I'm going to leave that open just in case the guards decide that they're going to stop being so flaky.”

Looking around curiously, she checks the small hut next to The Well and see’s Aiden sleeping

“Oh, this is where Aiden the farmer lives”

Closing the door, she goes past the farms towards the Babe House and Brendan’s home. As she approaches, she sees zombies going after them

“Then we got the-BABES! Oh, they need, they need help! They need help, they need help, they need help!”

Rushing forward, she slays the zombie at the door while a sleeping Emmalyn and Emma remain unaware of the chaos

“These babes are lucky that these monsters didn't go after them.”

Turning, she sees 3 more zombies trying to get to Brendan

“Oh gosh, oh gosh. Why are-oh my gosh! The zombies are trying to get my babes” ((Is Brendan being counted as a Babe lmao??)) [15:35-15:46]

She tries to get Emmalyn and Stephanie inside but they won’t budge so Aphmau hit’s Stephanie {Ow! Why did you hit me?} (losing 1 point of health; 19/20.0)

She apologizes to Stephanie but asks her to go inside, which she does, before turning to Emmalyn and hitting her too {Ow! Why did you hit me? Before quickly saying Oh, hello. Aphmau was it?} [16:09]

Tries to get her to follow her (clicking move instead of follow me), trying to explain and apologize for hitting her

“I'm sorry I had to hit you, I didn't mean to-...I really didn't mean to, but I'm trying to save your life here! I'm trying to save your life, I'm thinking of you. Come here-!”

Seeing that Emmalyn hasn’t come through the open door, she panics

“Hurry before the zombies and the spiders get in! Where'd you go!?” [16:24]

Going outside, she sees that Emmalyn has completely disappeared

“She does doesn't like me anymore, and I completely-”

Just like she predicted, a spider jumps from the babe house to Brendans roof and goes to attack her ((LMAO)) [16:30]

She kills it gaining XP and 2 string (losing 1 health point; at 5 health and 5 hunger)

Going back to the library, she goes past Dale and Gary the Guard, with Gary saying {Hey, what’s up?} [16:43]

“I’m going to go into my house (the library) and retreat for the night”

Aphmau proceeds to eat 3 carrots to fully restore her hunger and health (27 carrots left)

She turns seeing Emmalyn run in [16:55]

“Oh hey, look she made it! You made it! I'm so happy you're here.”

She commands Emmalyn to stay (Emmalyn likes her at 1 heart, her mood: agitated, trait irritable)

“You can stay with me tonight, all right? You can-I'm sorry. I'm sorry about having to wake you up with such a rude manner, but you know, I really just…I really was looking out for your safety Emmalyn the Librarian.” ((Insane since that’s her own house and omg I didn’t see Dale patrolling (looking up inside) outside the house)) [17:03-17:13]

Aphmau proceeds to look around the library, realizing something

“You know, this is actually a nice place for you. So you can hang out here, because I got lots of books! You can read books and have like, a great time!” ((LMFAO this is insane within canon lore. Is this considered gaslighting??))

Aphmau tries to reassure her and make her stay

“Here you, you'll be, we'll be fine. We-you'll be fine, don't worry. I got you baby.” [17:20]

Aphmau does her begins her outro, turning and looking outside the large library window before going outside to talk to herself

Dale greets her with {I haven’t seen you around before} [17:27]

“We still have a lot of questions that need to be answered like, where did that guy go in the beginning and how am I going to actually fix up this village? Because it seems like a lot more problems than I had originally anticipated!”

Standing on the rooftop of the house in front of the library, she looks out around her, spotting a creeper wandering at a cave entrance above the Babe house

“We got a creeper infestation problem over there,” going to The Well she begins to pull out her cobblestone [17:41]

“We got our guards, which are making like, a huge guard soup here...I might have to like just cover this thing up”

Seeing no one in The Well ((a surprise tbh)), she uses her cobblestone to remake the barrier and then places 6 cobblestone overtop so no one can fall in ((I thought she was gonna accidentally get rid of the water for a second))

She goes back into the Library, Emmalyn greeting her {How can I help you?}

“And I will see you all, in the next episode. Until then, hopefully Emmalyn won’t be mad at us anymore. Take care! Bye-Bye!” [18:01-18:10]

Episode Ends Cue Nostalgic Outro Music

Not sure if you all wanted to be tagged, so I hope you this is okay! @hetaverseshit @cloverrae @shuublebunny @mcdgarroth @faenemy @shadowknightapologist @will-do-anything-for-a-dollar @biscuits-spooky-diner @lyraofthestarsss @its-dark-girl @bluepenstemon @mina919 @woetothepeople

[geriatric-millenial]

Jayvik Modern Day Musicians AU where Jayce is a Generic Popstar and Viktor is an Indie Singer/Songwriter:

- Jayce starts off in indie/alt but his first album completely bombs

- His record label considers dropping him, leading him to go to the rooftop of the building and…

- “Am I interrupting?” comes a voice. A stranger (who he later learns is a songwriter himself) holding his diary/songwriting notebook. Somehow Jayce isn’t offended or embarrassed that this guy has just read his innermost thoughts

- He gets talked down the ledge. To remind him why he loves writing songs, Jayce and Viktor collaborate on a song that Jayce posts online

- It becomes an overnight hit. His record label doesn’t terminate his contract. He and Viktor keep on writing songs together

- His label successfully relaunches his career into Pop, thanks to the marketing genius of one high-level executive named Mel Medarda

- He still writes songs with Viktor, but Viktor stays behind the scenes, not interested in the spotlight

- Jayce gets thrust into fame, shaking hands with top producers, rubbing elbows with other famous musicians, attending awards shows, even winning one in one of them. He doesn’t forget to thank his partner in his speech

- The thing with fame though, it’s easy to fade into obscurity given all the competition and the public’s short attention span

- Viktor falls dangerously ill so Jayce isn’t able to write or record songs for a while. But that’s not an excuse his label is willing to hear

- In an act of desperation and under Mel’s influence, Jayce works with their producers to transform a song he and Vik wrote—a slow, quiet saudade—commercializing it into a pop song people will bop to in the club

- Viktor wakes up to the song’s success and parts ways with Jayce, hurt at his betrayal

- He starts posting his own music online (as a way of catharsis, to purge himself of his affection for Jayce) and gains a cult following

- One of Viktor’s songs becomes a hit. While he’s always been adjacent to fame, this is his first time in the spotlight. And unlike Jayce, it overwhelms him

- [gay yearning from both sides]

- Jayce finds Viktor. Sees how unhappy he is, how unhappy they both are. What’s the point of all this success when he can’t even be with his partner?

- After a brief ahem reconciliation ahem, Viktor notices an old record in Jayce’s bedroom. It’s an obscure album that only sold a hundred copies

- Jayce loves it, however, because it introduced him to the magic music could offer

- The scratches on it remind Jayce of his childhood—his father’s death, and the unending frost that came and covered everything in Jayce’s life; he and his mom listening to the record on repeat, and all that snow thawing

- Viktor recognizes the album, however. It was his grandfather who recorded it

- Jayce leaves his record label and starts his own with Viktor. His old label still owns all his music thanks to their ironclad clad contract

- But that’s why they’re starting their own label, to keep young musicians from being exploited by the music industry

- And hey, maybe they’ll re-record their songs. The way they were intended to be sung

Fin

Alright, I don’t have the time nor skill to write this so someone else please write it instead.

This was mostly inspired by this song I heard the other day:

I’m not the only one who sees the resemblance right??

[aetlasx]

Paradox: 1

pair: eddie munson x witch!reader

summary: life as a teenage girl wasn’t all that it’s been chalked up to be…especially when a boy you’ve never met breaks your nose.

tw: jason being a dick & a broken nose (lmk if I missed anything!)

a/n: tysm for reading!!! i am sosososo sorry the first part took forever!! i’m working on the next part as we speak

- purple text = flashback

prev.

October 6th, 1983

*THIS IS NOT A DIARY*

“Are you kidding me?” You snort, “This is totally a diary.”

Dustin elbowed you in the ribs. He huffed as he focused once more at the composition he held in his hand.

*THIS IS NOT A DIARY*

*THIS IS A SCIENTIFIC JOURNAL*

Approximately 15 days ago, our prime subject was approached by a middle-aged Blonde Caucasian male. About 6 foot, blue eyes, formal attire, and an angelic innocence to him.

Our subject says that this individual would appear in her dreams until he eventually manifested, waiting for her at her place of employment, Elwood Records, wanting to offer her something.

A chill was sent down your spine. You tensed as you noticed the familiar blonde smiling from across the street, leaning against his car. You were closing and your coworkers had already headed home. The man from the hospital…from your dreams…finally waiting for you..

As you finally locked the door, you turned back around to see him motioning for you to get in. Everything in you told you to run for it but somehow your legs compelled to follow the notion. The car ride was short and quiet. Hawkins was dead for the night and even if you wanted to scream for help, there wasn’t even a soul out there to hear you.

We arrived at Lover’s Lake, we got out of the car and walked towards the bend of the river. The moonlight sparkled off the water.

After driving for a while, he finally pulled over. Only a few blocks from your house. He got out of the vehicle and began strolling down the street. Doing the same, you caught up to him. “It’s nice to finally see you again. He smiled warmly. His presence was almost suffocating. “I know your pain. I feel it.”

Swallowing nervously, your house was only a sprint away. You could hear your heart beating from your ears. He got in front of you, his dark eyes boring into you were a mix of intrigue and something darker. “You’re not like the others in this town, are you? They’ll never understand you—your friends, your family, they’ll never see you for who you truly are.” He paused, you let the words sink in, his gaze never leaving yours.

“But what I’m about to offer you, it’ll make you better than them. Better than you ever realized. You were made for so much more—you just haven’t reached your true potential yet.” He excitedly exclaimed, his grip finding your arms and squeezing them for reassurance. “Trust me, this is your chance.”

His words wrapped around you like a promise and a threat. However, your eyes drifted towards the slight movement near his cuff. A small black spider crawled from his sleeve. Flinching, his grip on you tightened, as your eyes darted back to his, his icy blue orbs kept you frozen under his spell. The spider scuttled down his hand and onto your arm. Before you could even react, it darted to towards your face and with a sudden, involuntary gasp, you felt the insect slip past your lips and down your throat.

Henry smiled, leaning in close as you choked back fear and revulsion. “With my help, you’ll be unstoppable.” You felt a heat spread through you, a terrifying surge of power.

She can’t remember going into her house or how she got into bed, but the next morning she woke up with the ability to move things with her mind. I have been helping her, to the best of my ability, tame these supernatural powers.

You and Dustin stood in the woods behind the high school. A few empty soda cans were lined up on a fallen log. The air was tense with anticipation. You focused on the first can, brow furrowing, you clenched your fist and the can crumpled with a sharp crunch. The next one followed just as easily, collapsing with a satisfying clench. Dustin watched with wide eyes, half in awe, half in nervousness.

Turning towards the last can, something in you shifted. A flash of anger surged within you—memories of the name calling, bullying, the lack of your best friend’s support, and the guy-wrenching feeling of being alone. You clenched your jaw, clenching your fist again, the can not crushing this time; it erupted. Flames shot out as it consumed the metal in the sudden burst of fire.

You stumbled back, shocked, your breath hitching in your throat. You heard Dustin yelp, taking cover behind a tree. His eyes darting back and forth between you and the can.

“That’s…new,” you mumbled, your voice tinged with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The fire flickered and died, leaving behind scorched metal and an uneasy silence. Turning back to glance at your cousin, the poor boy’s face was turned pale with a blend of admiration and fear. You weren’t going to tell him but whatever that was, it felt like it was no longer just yours—it was something darker, something that had been waiting to break free.

A new power has emerged. She can manipulate fire with her mind, and I can’t tell if it was an accident or something else. Before the flames erupted, she looked furious, like something inside her snapped.

Dustin shook out of his trance as he heard the bell echo in the distance. The two of you rushed back to your schools, bidding him a farewell. You wouldn’t know it but he watched as you entered your high school, gazing with admiration. But the literal spark in your eyes was new. He couldn’t shake the feeling your strength and control were tightrope walking between chaos and control.

As you walked into your first class, you shared it with Nancy. As you walked past her gaze, your eye briefly met hers, feeling the weight of your fractured friendship. In the moment, Nancy felt like she was staring into a mirror that reflected all hers unspoken words and regrets. She looked away, her head hanging low. You quickly took your seat on the opposite side of the room. Thinking about what had happened when you had first made the deal you did with Him…

It wasn’t like you meant to, you had barely gotten your powers. You clearly didn’t know what you were doing.

A few days after getting these powers, you decided to study at the library for a big test coming up. However, Steve, Tommy, and Carol had other plans when they cornered you, throwing taunts as a guilt ridden Nancy pleaded with them to stop. When they finally stopped, something in you snapped. As they turned to leave, a sudden but unintentional surge of power flowed through you. Focusing on the bookshelf they were passing, it quickly crashed down behind them—barely missing them. Books were scattered as they turned around, realizing they had barely escaped. You stood there stunned by what you had just done. Nancy had stared at you with wide eyes, a mixture of fear and sadness.

That’s when you decided to go to your cousin Dustin for help. Sure, he might be young, but he seemed into this kind of stuff. Granted it had only been several weeks but, he put in the work for sure. Showing you his endless superhero comics and comparing your power to theirs.

Luckily, after word had spread about the library incident, a lot of your torment died down. Maybe high school wasn't going to be bad so bad after all, but today was one of those days.

As you took your usually seat at lunch, you eyed the crowded cafeteria. Sometimes Jonathan would sit with you but he had been busy with a project which left you with your quirky acquaintance, Robin. You normally sat with her whenever he was busy, exchanging small talk and trading food from time to time. When you were done, bid goodbye to her and made your way to the trash. However, when you turned around to leave, Jason Carver stood in front of you eyeing you like prey.

"Not so fast," he sneered, you glared back at him as some of his other friends gathered. "Why the nasty face? I'm here for Chrissy, she needs a tampon. She can't find them anywhere in Hawkins since you sold them out." You felt the familiar sting of humiliation creep up your spine. Clenching your jaw, your knuckles turned white as you dug your nails into your palm.

"Funny, Carver." a unfamiliar voice called out behind you. He walked over to where you stood. You couldn't put your finger on it but you had seen him around. "With the way you're wanting them so bad it sounds like you're the one who's needing them."

You rage was finally bubbling over. You refocused your mind, reaching out in a desperate impulsive move. A subtle flicker of your powers and Jason's pants suddenly dropped to his ankles. Laughter erupted throughout the cafeteria as he fumbled to yank his pants back up, his face reddening with anger and emarrassment.

Jason lunged at you, but before he could, the boy tried to shield you, taking the strike that was meant for you. A crowd started gathering as the two boys went back and forth, but in the midst of chaos, Jason pushed your protector towards you causing his elbow to collide with your nose with a sharp crack. Blood dripped down your lip as you staggered back, stunned and dazed.

The crowd fell into a stunned silence as the principal shoved his way through shouting for order. Clutching your nose, the sting of both physical pain and humiliation settled within you again.

"Munson! Carver! In my office now!" The principal shouted, then turned towards you, "You too Vale."

Standing as you gripped the phone, hand wavering over the buttons, you paused for a brief moment. You couldn't call your sister, even though she was moody and overbearing, she would come in kicking and screaming. You couldn't call you aunt, she'd start to worry about Dustin and figure out you're not the greatest influence to be around.

"Would you just call someone please." the receptionist sighed in annoyance.

Finally punching in a number, you looked up through your watery eyes at the bruised and beaten up boys. Jason sat with his head low, eyes focused on his shoes and as for the one the principal named Munson, your eyes met for a moment. Why did he do that? You were positive that Jason bullies him too. But why now? Why you?

As you shuttered under his stare, the other line finally picked up, causing you to look away.

The soft hum of the ABBA played throughout the somber office. The ice that you held to on your nose beginning to annoy you. Glancing at the boy who broke your nose beside you, you finally got his name. Eddie Munson.

You sort of remember him from middle school, except he didn't have hair back then. Now he has a short messy mop of curls, maybe that's why. He would glance at you from time to time with remorse in his eyes.

Your attention shifted when the nurse called you back into her office.

"It's broken alright, thought it was bruised." you winced as she touched it.

You heard heavy rushed footsteps coming in through the door. Your out of breath brother in law, taken back by the sight. "A fight. Whoever got her did quiet the number. Every teenager’s dream right there—rhinoplasty." the nurse smirked.

"Ted–"

He walked over gently taking his face into your hands. Looking over at the crookedness of your nose. The bruising starting to darken your eyes.

"Are you mad?" you whisper, tears threatening to spill. "June would've...would've."

"Gone ballistic. I understand. It's okay." he softly smiled pulling you into a hug, "I'm just glad you're alright." It truly warmed your heart that at least someone, who was an adult, was on your side. "How'd this happen?"

You explained everything to him, subtly pointing at the boys with their respective guardians, as to how this all happened. The nurse eventually came in to set your nose as best as a high school nurse could. "The principal will see everyone in a minute."

Waiting around for a few more minutes, Teddy started humming and tapping his foot to the beat of "SOS". Turning towards him, you gave him a puzzled look. "Big ABBA fan?" you whisper.

He shook his head, "June is. She sang this the night that we met at the bar." he smiled warmly remembering the event. From what he had told you before, she was just a college student who would sing her heart out at the local bar and he was just a lawyer who needed a drink. But on the night they met, June described it as as ABBA song. "This is her favorite band ever." he added.

"She never plays it at the house?" you questioned

"She stopped listening to them, said they reminded her of happier times."

"When did she stop?" you ask as he finally looked back at you. His eyes said it all. She had clearly stopped enjoying them when she had to take you in. Maybe it was just a teenage thing but clearly, you ruined her life.

Finally, the principal came out to allow everyone into his cramped office.

“I was the one who broke her nose,” Eddie admitted. “I stood up for her, but Jason was the one who threw the first punch.

Jason’s father shot to his feet. “You see? It was this delinquent. Come on, Jason, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“With all due respect,” Teddy countered, “Carver, your son’s a menace—not just to my kid, but to others as well.”

Jason’s father sneered. “Watch it, Ted. I’ve got connections with the mayor, and as for you”—he pointed at the principal—“our hefty donations to this school will end if anything happens to my son.”

The principal cleared his throat, “Very well, suspension for—“

“Are you kidding me!?” Teddy shouted “How is that any fair?”

“You should be use to it Ted, it’s just the way that things work around here.” Jason’s dad gloated “it’s called justice.”

“Is suspension really necessary when Eddie was just defending her?” Eddie’s uncle interjected.

Teddy stood up, enraged, stomping over to the other man.

“Look Ted,” he started, “you’re not in a big city anymore. You’re in Hawkins. Face it. You’re nobody in the town. Word spreads fast about your little family and that freak of a kid—“

Fuming, Teddy stood and stomped over to Jason’s father.

“Face it, Ted,” Jason’s dad sneered, “you’re not in the big city anymore. This is Hawkins. You’re nobody here, and word’s spreading fast about your family and that freak kid of yours—”

Before he could finish, Teddy punched him hard, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

Momentarily stunned by his own reaction, Teddy grabbed you by the shoulder. “Uh, right. Well, Principal, you can expect a generous Christmas donation from us—and from the Munsons!”

Without another word, he rushed you both out of the room. You laughed all the way to the car, still in disbelief over what had happened.

After a short drive to his office, you greeted the receptionist, then threw yourself onto the couch.

Teddy dropped into his chair, propped his feet on the desk, and lit a cigarette. “Listen,” he said, “you’ll have to come clean to June, but she can never know what I did.”

Eddie sat in his van, gazing at the glowing record store that illuminated the dark street. His cheek still radiated heat from the punch he took earlier, and he was grappling with everything that had gone down. He watched as you paced between the shelves, clutching vinyl records, your focus shifting from one album to another.

His uncle's words echoed in his mind. “Boy, you better apologize to her and do something nice for her! I can’t afford no nose job!”

Taking a deep breath, he noticed the building's lights flicker off, signaling closing time. You stepped outside, locking the door behind you. He exhaled, careful to not make a sound as he slowly approached.

From behind, he watched you study your reflection in the glass. You cupped your hands over your face, and he could see the tension in your shoulders ease. The crookedness and the blotchy purple hue beneath your eyes seemed to vanish, and your nose looked as good as new. You smiled to yourself, a moment of gratitude for your newfound powers, but that smile faltered when you caught a glimpse of his silhouette in the window.

As you turned, Eddie raised his hands in surrender. “It’s just me! I just wanted to stop and—woah… your nose?” He took a step closer, his eyes widening in genuine surprise.

You glanced down, cheeks flushing. “Y-yeah, my brother-in-law got me in to see the doctor really quick after we left.”

His puzzled expression lingered, his gaze taking in the details of you—the way your hair framed your face and the hesitant smile playing at your lips. “It looks perfectly fine… like nothing ever happened?”

“The doctor was really good,” you murmured, your fingers brushing over your nose. “A lot of ice and… makeup! Actually!”

He nodded, an awkward silence enveloping the air between you. Clearing your throat, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, the weight of humiliation lingering. “I-I should actually be thanking you…I mean, after Jason’s pants went down, I almost saw my life flash before my eyes.”

He chuckled, recalling the image of Jason in his ridiculous boxers. “I wish I could’ve gotten a picture.” Heat rose not just in his cheek, but across his whole face as he saw the sweet smile spreading on yours.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You nodded, telling him your name, a slight smile creeping back onto your lips. “But I’m sure you know who I am…”

Your palms felt sweaty, your heartbeat drumming in your ears as you finally looked up, searching his eyes for something—what, you weren’t sure.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.” He shifted on his feet, his voice softer now, the connection between you palpable.

Nodding, you turned to walk away before he could say anything else, a wave of nervousness washing over you.

“Hey! Wait! You’re not walking home in the dark, right?”

You shrugged, your heart racing as you nodded.

“Please, let me at least drive you home.”

After a brief pause, you relented, walking back to his van. The drive was quiet, filled with the tension of unspoken words. You provided directions, but each passing moment felt electric, charged with the possibility of something more.

As he pulled up to your house, you began to unbuckle your seatbelt, but he coughed awkwardly. “So—um, hear me out. I know your nose is broken, and my uncle and I can’t really afford—“

“Don’t worry about it.” You smiled as you stepped out of his van, but the warmth in your chest lingered, reluctant to fade.

As you hurried up your sidewalk, a hand gripped your shoulder, halting you. “No, wait! I have to make this right at least!”

“It’s fine!”

“Let me… let me do something for you? Maybe like a meal or—or—“

“Like I said, it’s fine—“

“I’m not leaving until you accept my offering.” He stood firm, blocking your path with an earnest expression that made your heart flutter.

“Fine. Tomorrow, though.” You huffed, your tone playful yet firm. “I actually have to study for a test.”

Eddie's smile grew coy, a spark of excitement igniting in his stomach. “Tomorrow it is,” he said, unable to hide the thrill in his voice at the thought of spending more time with you.

As you bid him goodnight and turned to open the door, it swung open abruptly. Your sister stormed out, fury etched across her face. She grabbed your arm, pulling you inside.

“Thank you, but the next time you lay your hands on my sister—I will make sure half of your teeth go missing.”

Eddie stood frozen as she stomped back in and slammed the door in his face. You felt a mix of anger and embarrassment, the moment slipping through your fingers.

She turned to you, gripping your chin and inspecting your nose. “I guess Teddy lied; your nose looks fine.”

You rolled your eyes, wriggling out of her grasp. “You didn’t have to be such a jerk to him, you know? He actually stood up for me.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Ugh, out of all the kids you could’ve gotten mixed in with, you just had to befriend the Munson one. From what the girls say, he’s just no good. So please, keep your distance.”

Groaning, you stormed to your room, flinging yourself onto the bed. Frustration bubbled within you, tears streaming down your face. Your breathing turned into full-on heaving, and as your gaze flicked to the TV in the corner, something ignited inside you. A burning, thrilling energy coursed through your veins, and in an instant, the screen erupted into flames.

[aneurinallday]

The Elster Man

The antique shop on Allenbrought Street was, to me, the most magical place in the world. Even though it was the first paying job I’d managed to get after university, I was in no particular rush to move on - it was preferable to the waitressing job I’d had at school, and it appealed to my love of the vintage and forgotten. For as long as I could remember, I’d been fascinated by the concept of antiques, so this was the closest I thought I would ever come to a dream job.

I’d only been working there for about six months, but to me, the shop had become a safe haven - a secret hideaway, where I could curl up with a blanket and a cup of tea, and lose myself in a Georgian adventure or a Gothic romance, while the minimum wage trickled into my pocket. The ticking of the grandfather clock was like a lullaby to me, and sometimes I would doze off with the book in my hands, until being woken by the sound of the bell above the door, signalling a customer’s entrance.

My life changed on a Monday afternoon - always the quietest time for our shop, since people were too busy with work or school to come and gawk at antiques. The owner was sick, so it was just me: the only employee, diligently manning the till, sweeping the floor, and dusting the shelves. I’d only had two customers that day - an old man searching for photo albums or soldiers’ diaries from the Second World War, and an elderly woman looking for vintage ornaments - but I didn’t mind. I liked the peace and quiet.

As I pottered around the shop, I was struck, as I often was, by the cosy, cluttered charm of the place. The shelves were stacked high with a beautiful chaos of miscellany - ballerina music-boxes, candlesticks, lampshades, silverware, egg cups, biscuit tins - while the walls were hung with framed photographs and wooden cuckoo clocks.

Sitting on chairs were stuffed animals with button eyes and porcelain dolls with real human hair, and looming over everything was a large, ornately carved grandfather clock, whose pendulum swung to and fro almost hypnotically. Every object had been crafted by skilful hands, whose owners were long-dead; and I took my role seriously as the caretaker of their legacies.

I finished rearranging a teapot, teacups, and saucers on a tray, then looked around for something else to do. I took advantage of the down-time to start unpacking a delivery we’d received the previous Friday: several beat-up cardboard boxes of items from Elster House, an eighteenth century manor-house somewhere in the south.

In order to fund the upkeep of the twenty-bedroom, twelve-bathroom mansion, the aristocrat who lived there was in the process of converting it from a private residence into a public attraction. Tourists and history buffs would come flocking to admire the topiary and old paintings, and hopefully leave a few coins in the donation box. But first, the attics needed to be cleared out.

And so here I was, kneeling on the floor, elbow-deep in a cardboard box stuffed with old bits-and-bobs, sorting the tat from the treasures.

Porcelain figurines of blushing cherubs and graceful Regency ladies gazed down at me as I worked. With a keen eye, I inspected each piece closely, looking for any scratches, scuffs, or discolouration that might decrease their value. I set aside a gilded snuff-box, and my gaze fell upon a rectangular tin at the bottom of the pile.

It wasn’t an antique, but a fairly modern storage tin, maybe from the 1970s or 1980s, painted with a rather gaudy floral design. It looked out-of-place among its Victorian companions.

I picked it up, and turned it around several times to admire the pattern. Then I attempted to open it, struggling to dig my fingernails under the lid. Gritting my teeth, I exerted more pressure. The lid finally gave up with a wheeze of escaping air, and the contents were revealed: a mess of old photographs, grey or sepia-toned, unmistakeably and authentically Victorian.

I scrambled to my feet, wincing as my stiff knees protested. I hurried to fetch a pair of cotton gloves, specially bought for protecting old, fragile documents from skin oils. Hastening back to the box, I sat cross-legged, put on my gloves, and reached into the tin.

The first photo I picked up was an unremarkable portrait. A young man sitting in a chair, wearing full Victorian garb, staring off into the distance in an aloof, regal fashion. His expression was dignified and stoic, his pose statue-like. When Louis Daguerre had succeeded in reducing a camera’s exposure time from hours to minutes, the popularity of portraiture had exploded; but having one’s photograph taken had remained a serious event, and smiling hadn’t yet become acceptable.

I peered more closely at the faded image. The man was strikingly handsome, in an angular and somewhat haunted way, his dark hair slicked with pomade. His large, shadowy eyes seemed full of secrets and deep, unknowable thoughts. A Gothic beauty, complete with an aura of mystery. Judging by his fine clothes and aristocratic bearing, he was probably an ancestor of the current owner of Elster House. The plain background and lack of other objects ensured that my gaze focused on him.

I turned the picture over. Written on the back in elegant cursive were the words:

Richard Mariah Elster

His Lordship on a fine Friday

October 13th 1843

To my chagrin, many of the photographs were heavily damaged - covered in splotches and scratches, the corners faded and curling. It seemed as though they’d been tossed carelessly in the tin with no regard for proper storage, yet a loose chronology seemed to exist. As I flipped through, I realised that they were all of Lord Elster. It was a collection dedicated to one man - one beautiful young man (or young to my admiring eyes, at least).

In most of them, he was alone, sitting or standing in various attitudes; but in some of them, he had companions - an elderly couple that I assumed were his parents, a male contemporary who was probably a university friend, a young woman whom he may have been courting. All of them seemed to pale in comparison; my eye was always drawn to him.

Each picture was its own little enigma. Who was he, and what circumstances had brought him to be photographed that day? Was he marking a significant event in his life, or had he simply wanted to show off his new clothes? My gloved hands carefully turned them over, checking for writing, but most of what I found was illegible.

As I searched, my fingers found something that wasn’t paper - something soft and ticklish. I withdrew a lock of dark brown hair, long and curly, bound with a red ribbon tied in a bow. I handled it with the utmost care, afraid of damaging the centuries-old strands. Then, on an impulse, I sniffed it. It may have been my imagination, but I thought I could detect the lingering, sweet fragrance of perfume. I wondered if he’d requested it as a keepsake, or if his lover had offered it as a token of her affections.

Picking up another picture, I experienced a momentary shock to see Lord Elster’s dead body propped upright, bereft of its head; but I quickly identified it as a joke photograph. In the 1880s and 1890s, there had been a humorous fad for “headless portraits”, in which the subject posed for two photographs in succession, and both photo negatives were combined to create the illusion that they were holding their own severed head by the hair or cradling it on their lap. Sure enough, the lord’s “decapitated” head was sitting nearby while his hand pretended to stroke its hair. I snorted with laughter, and put the picture aside.

The one that followed wasn’t a single image, but a collection of eight, arranged in two rows of four. I recognised it as a “visiting card” from the 1860s or late 1850s. At the time, it had finally become possible to take quick, casual photographs and print them onto a single sheet of thin paper, usually showing a person in the same setting but in different poses and attitudes. The low cost and simple production of such photos had led to their boom in popularity, as they could be easily traded among friends and family - one of the earliest examples of social media.

In all images, he was standing with a top-hat and cane in his hands. Sometimes he was posed in a serious and stoic manner, but sometimes he appeared grinning and playful. The images were too small to make out details, but I was struck by his humour - a long-dead man captured forever in a moment of amusement. It was a jarring reminder that people had been just as silly seven generations ago as they were now. Looking at him, I realised I was smiling.

But when I put it aside and saw the next picture, my smile died and my heart dropped. The young lord was sitting in an armchair, his eyes closed, his face slack, his mouth a sliver of blackness as it hung ajar. He looked like he was fast asleep, but I knew that he was dead. The sight came as a gut-punch to me. I’d been piecing together the jigsaw of his life, and in a strange and maybe stupid way, I felt like I’d gotten to know him. Now he sat in front of me, dead, motionless, his existence reduced to a scrap of paper.

There was nothing written - no date, no tribute, no expression of grief. I wondered what had happened to him. Had he died peacefully or violently? In bed after a terrible illness, surrounded by the tender care of his loved ones? Or in the middle of the street after a sudden accident, surrounded by gawking strangers? Morbid curiosity compelled me to peer closer at the photograph, looking for any clue as to what may have killed him - but he was fully dressed and immaculately hairstyled, hiding any possible sign of injury.

He was undeniably dead, and in accordance with the customs of the time, his family had decided to take one last picture of him.

I hadn’t come to work that day expecting to get emotional. Perhaps it was just the dust, but my eyes had begun to sting. I moved on, eager to shake off the image of his lifeless face.

The following photograph was decidedly less formal - probably a private memento. He was standing up, one foot crossed in front of the other, leaning his arm on the back of a chair in a casual manner. His hair had grown longer, and hung in easy-going curls to his neck - quite unusual for the time period, when most men had worn their hair short, slick, and sensible.

He appeared to be in an exquisite garden lined with marble columns, with a fountain in the background, but I couldn’t tell if it was a real place or a studio backdrop. Maybe it was a corner of the Elster estate, or maybe it was just paint on a canvas.

I held the precious picture in both hands, glad to see him alive again, then gently put it aside.

What I saw next caused me to freeze for a moment, as if my heart had skipped a beat. The young man was sitting naked on the floor, and smiling at someone out of frame. His long, dark curls were gathered loosely back, exposing his pale shoulders, and his expression was one of eager delight. Compared to the formality and pomp of its companions, the image was shocking in how alive and intimate it was. The subject was aroused, happy, and in motion.

I turned the picture over. Scribbled on the back in messy cursive were the words:

My darling, delicious Rick. A souvenir. Nothing tastes sweeter.

Something about the penmanship made me think it was a man’s. I felt a sudden guilt. This photograph was never meant for my eyes - it was a secret message between two lovers, who in their time period would’ve lived in the shadows.

Moving on, I jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire - the next picture was even more scandalous. His unrestrained hair tumbled in disarray about his face, and he was wearing an embroidered dressing gown that hung open, revealing that he was nude underneath. He was draped over a chaise longue in a languid pose, one bare leg crossed lazily over the other. To my modern eyes, the pose was no more shocking than a Greek statue, but for the time, it must’ve been outrageous.

Staring at him, I abruptly realised that it was his hair I had sniffed. His perfume I had imagined a whiff of. For some reason, the fact was embarrassing.

On the back of the scandalous photograph, I discovered the words:

To my dearest Rick. I found this and had to share the memory.

Wednesday 6th June 1866

This time, the handwriting felt feminine to me - painstaking, graceful, the result of years of strict schooling. I wondered how many lovers he’d had in his life, and which one he’d married to continue the Elster line.

Wait…1866? I squinted at the number. No, I’d definitely read it correctly.

I returned to the first portrait, dated 1843, and examined his face with a more critical eye. If I was generous and assumed he was in his early twenties at the time, he still looked remarkably youthful two decades later. Perhaps the hand holding the pen had made an error, or perhaps Richard was simply blessed with good genetics. Oh well, this mystery was above my pay-grade - correctly identifying the pictures would be the museum’s job.

I was approaching the bottom of the tin, and already wondering which museum to call first. These photographs belonged in a safe place, not a dusty antique shop, and I felt curiously protective of them. This man had been happy, beautiful, and by the looks of it, exciting; and the thought of him being forgotten hurt.

Suddenly, my eye was caught by a pop of colour. Something blue amid the grey and sepia. I reached for it, drew it from the pile, and my blood ran cold.

It was a Polaroid, and the face smiling back at me was Lord Elster’s. From what I could see, he was wearing a blue denim jacket over an unbuttoned tie-dye shirt, and his hair was gathered back in a loose mess. Seeing him in colour came as a shock to the system. Even in the faded, washed-out Polaroid, his curls were a rich and lustrous brown, his eyes a deep green. Even his pale skin seemed to be a dozen hues of pink.

My hands had begun to shake. It was the same person. Unmistakeably so. Indistinguishable, down to the slight asymmetry of his eyes. Even an identical twin wouldn’t be such a perfect match.

I knew it was him, but I also knew the idea was impossible. Although colour photography had ceased to be experimental in the 1930s, it hadn’t become the norm until the 1960s, and the Polaroid Corporation hadn’t dominated the world of instant cameras until the 1970s. If the man in front of me was the same man who’d sat patiently for a portrait in 1843, he would be almost two centuries old.

The sound of the shopkeeper’s bell jolted me from my reverie, a resonant chime informing me that a customer had entered. Sure enough, I heard the door swing shut with a decisive thud, and a male voice calling cheerfully:

“Hello?”

“One moment, please,” I answered, quickly returning everything to the tin and putting the lid back on. I heard his bouncy, blithe footsteps striding across the floor towards me, and realised I was covered in dust. I brushed myself off and emerged from behind the shelves, the floral tin in my hands. “How can I help - ” I began, but then I saw his face and the words died in my throat.

“Ah. I was looking for that. Thank you.”

His voice was youthful and sweet. He plucked the tin from my unresisting hands, paused, and peered closely at it. I realised I’d failed to rotate the lid back into the same position I’d found it, resulting in the flowery pattern being disrupted. My mouth opened and closed, but all speech had deserted me.

“You’ve been nosy, I see,” he said, “No matter.”

He smiled brightly, and slapped a stack of bank-notes down on the counter without counting them.

“There. Whatever awkward questions you have, this should be all the answer you need. If you feel it’s insufficient, please feel free to swing by Elster House whenever you’re in the area. I’ll give you a guided tour without the entrance fee, and I promise you’ll leave happy.”

He turned, and with a flick of his dark curls, was gone.

For @rmelster

[scarlettmacbeth]

The way you move ain't fair you know - Steddie Fanfic - AO3 - Stranger Things

Steve had enthusiastically told Robin about the successful date.

—So what happened next?

—I walked him home, we hugged each other again, and he went inside —Steve said, smiling.

—Wait... you didn't kiss him?

—Well... no —Steve confessed, blushing—. I do not want to put too much pressure on him; we will take things slowly.

Eddie came through the door and greeted them enthusiastically, as if the thought had summoned him. Robin couldn't help but notice that even as he addressed her, Eddie's eyes followed Steve's every movements. She gladly accepted the excuse to leave them alone when two more customers entered the store.

—I want to rent a tape —Eddie leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his palms on his cheeks as he said, crookedly grinning—. ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ .

—You have already seen that one —Steve said immediately.

Eddie looked at him puzzled.

—You rented it a month and half ago.

Eddie blushed as he bit his lip. Good memory , he murmured.

—What about you?

Steve raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

—Have you seen it?

Steve shook his head.

—Come watch it with me —Eddie said casually, scratching the back of his neck—. Tonight, at my place?

The exhilarating thought of going on another date with Eddie washed over Steve.

—Sure, I’ll be there.

He arrived on time and brought beers. The trailer was messy, but there was an obvious effort to conceal the wrinkled clothes under the bed and the dirty dishes in the sink. Processed food cans and packages piled high in a couple of trash bags in the kitchen corner. The movie was set to start, the couch was cleared, and snacks were placed on the table. When Eddie walked past him, Steve felt the freshness of his recently washed hair, and his stomach muscles twitched. He had visited Eddie's place before, but they had never gone there by themselves, let alone on a date.

On the screen, Nancy found Tina's diary and began to read about her nightmares. In the meantime, Steve had settled into a cozy stance with his head resting on Eddie's shoulder and his legs propped up on the couch, while six beer cans were scattered across the floor. Eddie's jacket still carried the lingering smell of tobacco and marijuana smoke, and his long hair exuded the scent of lavender shampoo. Steve reasoned that the fragrances themselves had little to do with the strange calm and thrilling ecstasy he was feeling at that very moment, and that the boy wearing them was much more responsible. He wished he could smell his skin directly, feel it beneath his fingers, and use his lips and tongue to commit the shape and texture of his tattoos to memory. Eddie eventually relaxed, his feet on the coffee table and his arm stretched out on the back of the chair, after being taken aback by his sudden closeness. When Steve approached, resting his cheek on his chest, Eddie sighed contentedly and allowed himself to play with the strands of hair that felt so close to his face, pure softness and perfume. He had often fantasized about using his fingers to tousle that flawless mane. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath; upon opening them, Glen dozed off, making him a prime target for Freddy. 

—You totally look like Johnny Depp —Eddie blurted out.

—What? —Steve said—. I do not.

—Of course you do, the typical movie heartthrob —Eddie answered softly—. You should wear crop tops sometime.

Steve looked up at him, their gazes locking. He laughed softly, a calm laugh that brought back memories of breezy summer nights. Eddie was astounded by its warmth, feeling it ascend within him and land on his chest. His heart skipped a beat, and the hand that had become entangled in Steve's hair trembled slightly. What was this bond that held them together in the middle of the night, an inexplicable electricity in the air? It did not need to be explained. Their friendship had begun with terror, suffering, and loss and had since blossomed into something lovely and delightful. Eddie enjoyed the sensation of tension created by Steve's hand resting on his thigh, only hindered by his jeans' fabric. How could he not see that I am all red and sweaty? He can not help but notice the effect he has on me . It was the paradox of the innocent villain, who causes harm by accident; his tender gazes and adorable dimples stabbed like darts into Eddie's soul, drowning in the shivers of that sweet torture. The more Steve gave him, the more his insatiable heart demanded; he knew that if he kept pulling on that string, it would eventually snap, and he was ready to fall with the end in his grasp. The certainty of his impending fall caused his veins to swell with vertigo.

Upon rising from the couch, Steve faltered; he had glanced at his watch and conceded, with resignation, that it was time to leave. Eddie guided him to the door and gave a little start when he felt Steve's lips lightly touch his cheek.

—Good night, Eddie —he smiled as he left—. I had a fantastic time, next time is on me.

With his fingers still firmly planted on his cheek, Eddie gave a forceful nod, as though he wanted to trap Steve's runaway kiss there.

***

Read the complete fanfic on AO3:

Eddie has been crushing on Steve for some time, but accepted the fact that his love is unrequited. When Steve asks him out on a date, Eddie agrees, believing it to be purely platonic, just a friends' thing. It takes him three dates and two kisses to come to the conclusion that he is in fact dating Steve Harrington.

[fizzyginfizz]

Someone's Mum

For @hinnymicrofic -Day 20 "Mom"

The poster unfurled, a Quidditch star winked with sass and smile

“Lucky him,” they’d say in passing

She never cared what they said

But Albus was two and he didn’t speak

“Are you miserable?” Words raw, a fear hidden, only uttered under the blanket of night.

“No,” she dared whisper, a confession in the dark. “When I’m there, I’m thinking about here. When I’m here, I’m thinking about there. Not miserable… mediocre. I never half-arsed anything that mattered and now I’m mediocre.”

Her fingers sought his, tangled in sheets.

“I catch a Quaffle and I miss the boys and I miss the hoop and I’m not crushed because my dream has become just another day with another Quaffle and another hoop and another number on another board and I miss miss miss when it mattered.”

Who was she without it?

Someone’s mum

James turned the page

another and another and another

“Again!”

another and another and another

“And down once more, but not so fast- “ *

Her shoulder needed to be iced

“They’re on their way to bed at last- “

How many times did they have to hear this story?

“The day is done they say goodnight- “

How many times would they want to?

“And somebody turns off the light- “

How many nights until they were too old

and she would

miss miss miss when it mattered

“The moon is high- “

Albus was two and still didn’t speak

“The sea is deep- “

Thumb in mouth, his green eyes followed her finger tracing the words

“They rock- “

James nestled closer, elbow jabbing the Bludger-sized bruise on her hip

“And rock- “

It hurt

Her finger trembled as it traced

“And rock- “

Albus, two, not talking, lifted enormous green eyes to hers

“To sleep- “

Green eyes that spoke sonnets

His Mum

He grinned

She was the center of his world

“What can I do?” Never one for words, he had long ago learned to ask. “What can I say?”

Sheets rustled as their fingers laced.

“What will you see, Harry?” She muttered. “I know what everyone else will see and I’ll pretend it won’t matter. But what will you see when you look at me?”

He rolled on top of her, cupping her face between his hands.

“The woman who bat-bogeys reporters and fought in a war and loves so fiercely her heart swells and splits and bleeds.”

Soft kisses to chin, cheek, eyelid.

“The effortlessly funny companion who can commentate two snails crossing the porch and have us all cheering the one with the hilariously tragic backstory.”

He lowered his forehead to hers.

“The girl who wrote in the diary who married the boy who slept in a cupboard. Neither of them have anything to prove, Gin.”

A tear escaped, rolling into her hairline.

“A Mum?”

She dared to whisper, a confession in the dark.

Irrelevant to the world

The world to three

“I’ll see you, Ginny. And I will love you until my last breath.”

The day was done, the edges curled

The Quidditch star winked as the poster furled

*Excerpt from “The Going to Bed Book” by Sandra Boynton

[greenerteacups]

Hi! I am an ardent fan of your writing, and I hope to be as sorted and planned as you some day in my own writing journey.

My question is: you have a keen eye when it comes to planning character personality, dynamics, and such. I've also been wading through your ask replies, and your insights into how you write people and how you make them play off of each other is so wonderful to read. If it's not too personal a q, how did you learn how to write like this? Did you go to school for writing, does it come from years of observing people, do you have reading list recs for "how to write real people and real interactions"?

Thanks! This is a really flattering question. I'll try to answer it honestly, because I wish someone had been brutally honest about this with me when I was a young writer.

I didn't go to school for writing. I started doing it when I was about nine years old. It sucked very badly. I kept writing throughout high school, and it still mostly sucked, but some of it was occasionally interesting. ("Interesting" here does not mean "good," by the way.) I took a break in college, and then came back. I've been writing ever since. Sometimes, I feel good about it. A lot of the time, I don't!

I hate giving this advice, because I remember how it feels to get it, and it's the most uninspiring, boring-ass, dog shit advice you can get, but it's also the only advice that is 100% unequivocally true: you have to write, and specifically, you have to write things that suck.

I do not mean that you should make things that suck on purpose. I mean that you have to sit down and try your absolute hardest to make something good. You have to put in the hours, the elbow grease, the blood, sweat, and tears, and then you have to read it over and accept that it just totally sucks. There is no way around this, and you should be wary of people who tell you there is. There is no trick, no rule, no book you can buy or article you can read, that will make your writing not suck. The best someone else can do is tell you what good writing looks like, and chances are, you knew that anyway — after all, you love to read. You wouldn't be trying to do this if you didn't. And anyone who says they can teach you to write so good it doesn't suck at first is either lying to you, or they have forgotten how they learned to write in the first place.

So the trick is to sit there in the miserable doldrums of Suck, write a ton, and learn to like it. Because this is the phase of your path as an artist when you find what it is you love about writing, and it cannot be the chance to make "good writing." This will be the thing that bears you through and compels you to keep going when your writing is shit, i.e., the very thing that makes you a writer in the first place. So find that, and you've got a good start.

Some people know this, but assume that perseverance as a writer is about trying to get to the point where you don't suck anymore. This is not true, and it is an actively dangerous lie to tell young writers. You are not aiming to feel like your writing doesn't suck. You are aiming to write. You are aiming to have written. Everything else is dust and rust. And of course, you'll find things you like about your pieces, you'll find things you're proud of, you'll learn to love the things you've made. But that little itch of self-criticism, in the back of your brain — the one that cringes when you read a clunky line, or thinks of a better character beat right after it's far too late to change — that's never going away. That's the Writer part of you. Read Kafka, read Dickens, read Tolstoy, you will find diary entries where they lament how absolutely fucking atrocious their writing was, and how angry they are that they can't do better. A good writer hates their sentences because they can always imagine better ones. And the ability to imagine a better sentence is what's going to make you pick up the pen again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.

Which is what I mean, and probably what all those other annoying, preachy advice-givers mean, when we say: a good writer is just someone who writes every day. It's that easy, and that hard.

[hanzajesthanza]

it’s like they rediscovered the recipe for witcher mutations but then accidentally mixed it up with the recipe labelled “hottest woman alive” and then they got ciri in fur-lined armor forehead sweaty eyeliner fucked hair disheveled pissed off and growling at the camera wtffff

[letmesleep8]

even if I die screaming // elliexreader

CHAPTER 4: There's an ocean in Nebraska

AO3 | chapter 3 | chapter 5

content warnings/tags: subtle homophobia, mentions of alcohol/being drunk, mention of cannibalism as a metaphor

notes: oh my, look who it is! i know it took me quite a while to post this. sorry, i was in a depression. but anyways, here is the chapter! i promise I'll try to post the next one soon this time. have a great evening! or morning. or anything.

tag list: @h4-rt3s @sallythatgurl-64 @pinkinternetfire @lorelaihehe (sorry if i tag you without you asking or something, unless you're lorelai, that was on purpose :3)

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"I hate it here so I will go to lunar valleys in my mind

When they found a better planet, only the gentle survived"

— I Hate It Here, Taylor Swift

January 23, 2039 Winter

Dear diary, 

Today was strange. I came home from the get-together and ate the whole rest of the cake I made. My head hurts and I feel like my fingers smell like Ellie. I can still feel her phantom touch in my face whenever I close my eyes for too long.

Mom’s drunk, she's already completely asleep in her bedroom. I locked myself up in mine, I’m afraid she’ll smell the weed. I feel bad, guilty. I can’t sleep. I am a terrible daughter and I deserve nothing she’s ever fought to give me. I am a disappointment and I promise I won’t do anything like this ever ag- 

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

I heard a noise on my window, I first thought it was maybe a bird. One more time, I heard something hitting the frame. I got up to check and got scared by the pebble that almost hit my face. 

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry!” Ellie looked worried and embarrassed. I simply laughed.

“What are you doing here? It’s, like, four a.m”, I sat on the frame. “You should be in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She swallowed, nervously. “ Y’wanna go for a walk?” I unknowingly held my breath and bit my bottom lip to the blood. If Mama wakes up and doesn’t see me in bed she would be so worried, but at the same time, I couldn’t pretend like living under her subtle rules wasn’t killing me slowly. 

“Help me get out.” I said and Ellie smirked, giving me her hand. I jumped off the frame and tripped a little. “Where are you taking me?” I started following her down to the trees. 

“Just follow, I promise you’ll like it.” She smiled and so did I. Just then I realized she hasn’t let go of my hand since I jumped out of the window. In fact, she squeezed it from time to  time. 

I went with her up to a small clearing across the creek, we had hung out around there before. The difference is that now there was a blanket on the floor with what seemed to be a telescope on top.

“What is this?” I sat, smiling. “Where’d you get this thing?”

“Oh, this old thing? Joel found it and gave it to me when I was, like, fifteen.” She sat down by my side. “I just remembered it, y’know, when you started tracing the stars on my back and shit…” 

I felt my cheeks getting completely flustered, so I hid my face between my hands. “I am so sorry about that, it was embarrassing as hell.” I sighed and chuckled, throwing my head back.

“It’s not embarrassing, you were just high”, Ellie laughed. “T’was sweet.” Her cheeks started becoming rosy too. I laid back on the blanket. “Hey, c’mere. Let’s check this thing out.” I  scooted closer to her, looking into the telescope and then giving her some space to look too, her shoulder brushing against mine. “Damn, the sky’s always so pretty in Wyoming. It was always smokey back in Boston.” She said, looking amazed. 

“You’re from Boston? “ I asked.

“Born and raised.” She replied.  “You?”

“Nebraska. Never traveled that far.” I chuckled. “Have you ever seen the ocean? “

“ Yeah, sure! Wait… Haven’t you?” I shook my head, she looked surprised.

“Yeah…” I laughed. “Nebraska isn’t really beachy, y’know?”

She laughed, elbowing me softly. “Well, then we gotta take you somewhere that is! Where’d you like to go, miss?” 

I smiled. It was fun pretending like we weren’t trapped here forever sometimes. “Well, I think California must be nice, you know? Maybe Florida. Just don’t think we could get there by horse.” 

She laid back on the blanket, arms above her head, and sighed. “Man, I wish it was easier to find a car that actually works. I could drive ya there, you’d see the beach.” 

I watched as she laid there, the skin under her slightly open flannel chilled by the breeze. I wondered if her chest was freckled too, where did her spots end? I didn’t even realize I was staring, when something slipped my mouth. “Well, actually-” I stopped myself, but it was kinda late, she seemed interested and I couldn’t leave those forest eyes guessing. “My mom, she keeps a car battery hidden. But it’s for desperate situations, a safe way out. But don’t tell anyone I said that!”

Ellie’s hand reached for my nose, booping me like a cat. “Relax, spacegirl. Your secret’s safe with me.” She laughed and I laid on the blanket too. 

The sky was a deep blue, the stars like snowflakes. I thought I saw a beam of light or something, maybe thunder, but soon I realized: it was a shooting star. “Ellie, quick, make a wish!” I closed my eyes. “Aw shit, okay.” She closed hers too, smiling. 

“I wished for my mom to find me new records.” I smiled, “what did you wish for, Els?”

She blushed in the slightest, looking away. “Oh, yeah, I forgot to make one.”

“You’re just lying now.” I laughed. “Come on, you can tell. What would you like right now? A car? A camera? A puppy?” 

I felt her eyes analyzing every single inch of my face and her lips parting, almost involuntarily. “I wish you liked girls.” I felt my heart dropping to my feet, my throat went dry, I stayed silent. She sat up immediately, I did the same. She started putting the telescope away, getting ready to leave. 

“Wait, Ellie, don’t-” I touched her shoulder. “I… don’t like boys, I- Girls… I’ve never tried.” 

I could see her face light back up but she was trying to keep it nonchalant. “Do… you want to?” I swallowed and breathed in deeply as I simply nodded in response. Her face went straight up red, it looked like fire. I think I may have caught her by surprise. 

The girl took her left hand towards my face, tucking away a strand of hair behind my ear. I was almost panting as she got closer to me, our noses touching. My eyes went to her lips, chapped but pink, burnt from the cold. She exhaled into mine as she finally locked them in, her hand now on the side of my neck. Almost as if programmed to, I opened them up for her.

Her mouth was heavenly, her tongue felt like a warm treat. So I kissed her, I kissed like I longed for it for ages, I kissed her like a movie, I kissed her like everyone could watch. I took my hand to her neck, hers climbed its way up to my hair, holding onto it like I’d run away. But I would never, I wish we would stay like this until the end of times. 

Quickly, the simple kiss had turned hungry. I felt like she was going to eat me whole, devour me like a beast and, truthfully, I didn’t even mind, I waited for it, too. I wished for her body so bad that I wouldn’t even mind becoming part of it. It felt like an out-of-body experience how she held me like I was always hers. 

Until I heard a voice coming from beyond the creek. “Els, sorry for interrupting but she should come with me. Quick.” It was Dina, she seemed worried. I followed her, she told Ellie to not come along. 

When we went back to town near my house, I could hear my mom talking to Mike. “Just- gone! I just woke up and she wasn’t there.” Dina stepped closer, “found her!” She smiled, not really knowing what to say. 

Mama took into a tight hug. “Oh my God, you scared me so much!” I could smell the worry in her, or maybe it was just the alcohol. Didn’t take long for her to switch and slightly shake me. “Where the hell were you!?” I froze. 

“I- I was just stargazing, with Dina, you were asleep-” I didn’t have a clue what to say, I am a terrible liar. Always been. 

“Don’t you lie to me! Where were you?!” Her voice became angrier. “You were with that girl again, weren’t you? Joel 's girl? I told you to stay away from her!”

“No, mom, I wasn’t with Ellie, I swear.” My lip was trembling. “I just went for a walk! I thought you were asleep…” 

“Go home. Right now. Go.” She looked so disappointed. My eyes filled with water, I had never seen her like that. Mike tried waving goodbye to me but I was so  distraught that I didn’t even pay attention. I just went straight back home and cried in my room for the rest of the night, sitting on the windowsill. I felt unworthy.

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Winter Diaries

Summary: The boys have some fun with the first snowfall of winter

Rating: G

Genre: Canon Era, Friendship, Team Bonding, Minor Bobby/Don, Fluff, Slice of Life, One Shot

Words: 924

A/N: for @b00ks1ut who helped create this every step of the way!! <33

-

AO3

or

When winter hits Seattle, it comes with the force of a thousand winds. Overnight, the campus is covered in snow and not a speck of ground is untouched.

While the blizzard lessens come morning, fat flakes continue to fall and the damp cold is enough to cancel practice. However, nine boys are too riled up to stay inside, the first snowfall igniting their fondest childhood memories.

Dressed in threadbare sweaters, mittens with holes, they jump out into the snow, filling the muffled air with song and laughter. Who starts the snowball fight nobody knows, but soon everyone has a healthy helping of snow covering them.

Don laughs, shakes out the snow from his hair while Chuck tackles Johnny into a deep bank. A few of the boys come to a pause to point and cheer and Don’s eyes drift from one teammate to the next.

The joy is beautiful, their cares far away, a picturesque moment amongst the days of stress.

When Don’s gaze lands on Bobby, his breath catches in his throat. Bobby’s smile takes up his entire face, the snow in his hair a stark contrast to his dark locks. Flakes cling to his eyelashes and his cheeks are red from the cold. If only Don could reach out and tug Bobby closer by his scarf.

A playful shove from Shorty breaks Don’s staring and the snowball forgotten in his hand ends up in Shorty’s face.

The scene turns to chaos, boys pulling one another, trying to shove snow down their sweaters. Don’s foot slips on ice and his arm flies out for balance, stomach dropping at the sudden fall. He ends up on his back regardless, but what or rather who he’s grabbed onto lands on top of him.

Time slows and Don is caught in Bobby’s teasing grin. His body is a comforting weight on top of him, but before Don can wrap his arms around Bobby, shouts fill his ears.

With a quick glance around, Bobby bites his lip then leans down to give Don a small kiss. He’s back on his feet before Don can say a thing, already making a snowball to throw at Joe.

His aim is true and Joe charges. Don props himself up on his elbows to watch everyone, content to let them carry on without him. Jim is sprawled out on his stomach and Roger helps Gordy free himself from a knee-high snowbank.

Like a squirrel, Bobby has climbed up a light pole, out of Joe’s reach and Joe, thinking better of the situation, stares up at Bobby with his hands on his hips.

Don can’t help the laughter that leaves him. Bobby’s proud smile spreads to his heart, their eyes locking for more than a few tender seconds. Then, Bobby slips and his only soft landing is Joe. Don scrambles over to help the two, worried of Joe’s wrath only to find he has nothing to fear.

Joe keeps Bobby pinned to his chest as Bobby tries to wiggle free, the two caught in overewhelming laughter. At last Bobby wrenches away and he hides behind Don while Joe gets to his feet.

“I’ll get you next time, Moch,” Joe teases before sliding over to Shorty.

For a moment, Bobby and Don stay this way, Bobby’s hands on Don’s hips, Don pressing back into Bobby’s frame. The other boys are too caught up in each other to notice the two and Don lets his blush warm his face.

After a few more playful scuffles, it’s then Johnny insists they get inside for a hot drink and everyone is quick to agree. In the communal kitchen, Chuck prepares his mother’s signature recipe for hot chocolate but not without help from each and every boy.

Soon, everyone has a steaming mug in their hand, the hot chocolate topped with plenty of marshmallows. Don takes a sip, but something isn’t right.

“Not sweet enough?” Bobby asks.

Of course he’s noticed Don’s concern and he takes a gulp from his own mug as if to confirm Don’s hesitation.

Don counts the marshmallows in his cup and frowns at the uneven seven that sit at the top. A few pairs of eyes watch him as he takes a single marshmallow and adds it to his cup, but no one jumps to ask.

With another sip, Don smiles, nods. Everyone stares at him and Don shrugs.

“Doesn’t taste right unless there’s eight marshmallows,” Don says as if the answer is obvious.

This gets him blinks, a few chuckles and everyone goes back to their business. Everyone except Bobby.

“Let me taste,” Bobby motions for Don’s mug.

Don offers it without complaint and Bobby tries Don’s hot chocolate and then his own.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Bobby grins. “Looks like you’re onto something, Donny.”

Matching Bobby’s grin, Don grabs an extra marshmallow for Bobby and plops it in his cup before taking back his own. It’s not just happiness that shines on Bobby’s face, but something so much more than that. Devotion, love, no words could come close to describing the beauty Don gets to see every day.

In their own little corner, watching the rest of the room, Bobby presses closer to Don. His bravery lets him rest his head on Don’s shoulder and Don melts into the touch, thankful for the little moments like this.

The season is sure to get colder, but Don knows he won’t feel a single bit of it. Not with Bobby—not with his boys—to warm him every step of the way.

[meridien-moonquills]

Small but Mighty

As the trio strolled through the castle’s corridors, Ominis suddenly turned to Vianka, his expression curious. “Vianka, I’ve been wondering…”

Before he could finish, Sebastian, who had been trailing behind, suddenly burst into laughter.

"Wait—how have I never noticed this before?"

Vianka frowned. "Noticed what?"

Sebastian grinned, pointing at her. "No offense, but… you’re tiny! Ominis could probably rest his elbow on your head! No wonder you’re always running just to keep up with us."

Ominis smirked, tilting his head. "Ah, that explains the constant little pattering footsteps I hear beside me."

Vianka crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. "Well, maybe if you two weren’t built like overgrown trolls, I wouldn’t have to sprint just to keep up!"

Ominis resumed, “So,...What happened with Cressida Blume after you returned her flying books and diary? Did you haggle with her too? And what did you get out of it this time?”

Vianka grinned mischievously, her eyes twinkling while running. “Well, it was a two-step process. First, I returned her enchanted flying books—you know, the ones causing chaos in the library. That earned me the first payment she promised: a stack of high-quality parchment and a few Galleons.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And the diary?”

Vianka smirked, leaning in slightly. “I waited a bit before returning. Kept it safe in my bag, made her stew for a day or two. When I finally handed it back, I made sure to hint—subtly, of course—that I’d peeked inside.”

She held up her hand quickly. “But don’t worry, I didn’t actually read it. Just enough to make her think I might’ve.”

Sebastian burst out laughing.

“You what? That’s so cunning, you are the true Slytherin!”

Vianka shrugged, her grin widening. “I didn’t outright say anything—I just let her imagination run wild. It worked like a charm. She was so relieved that I didn’t spill her secrets that she promised to write positively about me in the school media. Said she’d promote me as ‘Hogwarts’ most helpful and dependable newcomer. Boom and I got free marketing service’”

Ominis tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re small but mighty. But knowing you, I doubt that’s all you walked away with.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Vianka said, reaching into her bag.

She pulled out a small pouch that jingled faintly with a satisfying cling of coins. “My first bit of wealth here at Hogwarts.”

"How about butterbeers after school?", Sebastian smirked

"Agree!"

[theshamelesssimp]

Caroline as a Wolf then Hybrid WIP!

Disclaimer: It has been been over five years since I have watched The Vampire Diaries and I haven't even seen The Originals so if I get things wrong or these characters seem OOC I'm sorry, I'm a master procrastinator and I only rewatched the first episode and a half of The Vampire Diaries a little under a month ago. So don't hold your expectations too high now. This is just a draft, it isn't completed, I am planning on it being longer than this since I want to get her first transformation, cute little moments with her and Klaus as wolves, etc., in this so, yeah. Also, i was going to post this draft sooner but it was so helpfully deleted so I had to remember what wrote from before.

Caroline walked out of the Grill, eyes focused on her phone as she made her way to her car. She sent a text to every cheerleader reminding them that they had practice after school on Monday and to let her know in advance if the couldn't make it. She hated making last minute changes to her plans, after all.

As she pressed send on the text she felt a hand grab her elbow and pull her into an an alleyway. She blinked, slightly disoriented and focused on the man in front of her. He was wearing a hoodie so she couldn't see his face all that well and he was a couple of inches taller than her with his build being on the bigger side.

He glared at her as he still held her by her arm. "Give me your money."

Caroline gave him a nasty look before scoffing and rolling her eyes. "I don't think so."

She shook off his arm and started heading towards the entrance of the alleyway just for him to grab her again, only this time he slammed her back into the wall. Caroline groaned at the pain she felt and open her mouth to snark at him but stopped herself when she felt something sharp press against her neck.

The man glared at her harsher this time. "I said give me your money."

Caroline hesitantly looked down and froze in fear when she saw the blade of a pocket knife press against her throat. Out of instinct, she quickly pushed him back with a strength she never knew she had and witnessed him stumble back and trip on his own feet. Time slowed down as she saw him fall back and hit his head on the dumpster with sickening crack.

Seconds have passed as her breath grew shaky and her hands became sweaty, staring wide eyed at the man who's eyes had become glossed over. She didn't see him move and ran over to him, kneeling down to put two fingers on his pulse, desperate to find it still beating. "No, no, no, please..." She begged.

When she felt nothing she removed her hand from his neck and it flew up to her face to cover her mouth as she let out a small gasp, tears blurring her vision when she realized that she just killed someone. Her breathing grew heavier and she frantically got up before looking around to see if anyone saw her.

Caroline found herself panicking, making stressed sounds and pacing around with her hands in her hair.

This couldn't be happening, what was she supposed to do? What if someone sees her? Why did this happen to her?

She had tears streaming down her face as she brought her trembling hands down and scrolling through the contacts on her phone before pushing on her mother's number.

She held the phone up to her ear, shaking as it went to voice mail and trying again. "C'mon, please answer the phone."

By the third call she heard it go through and the voice of her mother answered.

The latter sighing before talking, unaware of the predicament her daughter was in. "Caroline, you know not to call me when I'm on duty."

Caroline whimpered into the phone before she started weeping, her voice small as she spoke. "Mommy..."

The Sheriff froze before straightening her back and hardening her eyes. "Caroline, what's wrong."

"I–I didn't mean too, I–I promise. He j–just came out o–of nowhere and h–he..." She swallowed, looking at the dead body before snapping her eyes shut, her tone fearful as she continued. "He pulled m–me into the a–alleyway beside the Grill and h–held a knife to my throat and I–I panicked, I didn't know this w–would happen." She rambled unsteadily. "Please don't be mad a–at me."

Liz attempted to calm her daughter. "It's okay, Caroline." Liz gripped her phone tightly. "I'll be right there so stay where you are."

I'll probably post this here and on AO3 if I finish it so...yeah. I don't mind constructive criticism if you want to give that, just don't be rude about it.

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

It's the Perfect Time of Year (Somewhere Far Away from Here)

Fandom: Uncharted 4 word count: 6,705 Whumpee: Nathan Drake Whump tropes: grief, bar fight, beaten, choked, knocked out, caretaking

Read on Ao3

~~~

It’d been a rough few months, there was really no other way to say it. 

After the loss of his brother, it was like Nate lost the ability to care about himself. He poured everything into the search for Sir Drake, reading books and diaries day in and day out until he found something that pointed to a physical location that he could go investigate. Some days when he would get lost in his books it was like he would forget he had a body at all, only remembering to eat or drink when Sully placed something in front of him. He would fuss over having food or drink placed near some of the books and maps, worried that Sully would soil some of them with crumbs or water rings. At first Sullivan took offence that Nate would think he would ever be so careless, but whatever got his attention and brought him back to the present, even if it was only for a short time. 

Sully didn't usually hang around between calls from Nate, he'd be there whenever Nate needed him to be, and he did have other stuff he could be doing when he wasn't flying the kid around the globe. But after Sam, and then after Rafe… Nate didn't ask him to stay, but he didn't send him away either. And Sully wasn't about to ask first, knowing if he did Nate would insist he was fine even though he clearly wasn't. He could see the ever growing list of leads, but Nate never set a plan in motion to go after them yet. Was the thought of all that time to be undistracted during travel time daunting? Afraid if he didn’t have his mind distracted by books and maps he would fall headlong into the grief?

So they stayed put, and as long as Nate wasn't telling him to leave, Sully found stuff to do nearby. He found himself taking on the role of house-keeper, not that it got particularly messy since Nate rarely left the room he had claimed as his study in their tiny rental house near the beach, but if Sullivan didn’t sort through the mail every so often it would’ve been ignored until the lights went out and the water stopped dripping from the tap, not that it was super reliable even when the bills were paid on time. He kept the kid fed, nudged him to sleep when he would yawn so hard his jaw looked like it would unhinge, and not so graciously sent him to the shower when he started to stink to high heaven. 

Sully felt triumphant when he finally convinced Nate to leave his books, just for an evening, to stretch his legs and think about something else for a little while, to sit in the company of people other than Sully. Begrudgingly, Nate slumped in the passenger seat of the Jeep, his elbow braced on the window frame as he stared out at the greenery whipping past. He mindlessly rubbed his chin with his thumb and didn’t say a word the entire drive. Sully glanced over at him, getting the gist that Nate wouldn’t be that much of a conversationalist quite yet this evening before he flicked on the radio, upbeat Spanish music poured from the tinny speakers of the old Jeep and he tapped along to the rhythm on the steering wheel.  

Two songs later they were pulling up to the ramshackle building that was the local bar. The faded sign posted above the door depicted a caricature of a chicken with a comically large cigar clenched in its tooth lined beak. In the weeks they had been in town, Nate had never been there but Sully was a frequent visitor, on the nights he didn’t want to cook anything or was tired of being cooped up in the house and needed a buzz. Nate eyed the area sceptically, and the locals leaning against the railing of the roofed front porch eyed him back. 

“Evening, amigos!” Sully called to them, relighting his cigar as he swept past them. Several of the guys grunted a half-assed greeting or nodded in Sully’s direction, familiar with his presence, but kept their sights on Nate as he followed behind the older man. 

Sully shoved the front door open, holding it just long enough for Nate to catch it on the way in. Eduardo was in his usual spot behind the bar, pouring a line of drinks for the gaggle of people leaning on the bar already. He glanced up as the door slammed shut, his eyes lighting up with a grin as Sully snagged a pair of stools near the end of the bar. 

“Sully!!” the bartender yelled jovially. “What’s good?”

“Everything, Eduardo, look who I finally convinced to join me!” Sully jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in Nate's direction.

“Ah, is this the fabled Mr. Drake?!”

“The one and only,” Sully exclaimed, cringing as the wording hit him too late. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Nate’s lips twist into a frown. He flopped onto the stool next to Sully and crossed his arms on the bar. “My usual, Eddie, make it two.”

“You got it,” Eduardo gave a thumbs up and wandered off to the other end of the bar, grabbing a couple of glasses off of the bar mat as he went.

Sully leaned towards Nate, bumping their shoulders together. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I get it.” Nate shrugged, looking around at the decor of the bar. It was cleaner inside than the rundown exterior led one to expect. “It’s just a phrase.”

Sully nodded sadly, watching Nate as he looked pretty much everywhere except at another human in the bar at that moment. Neon lights that advertised various alcoholic drinks hanging on the wall above them cast his skin in a blue tinge and the blue-ish colour of his eyes appeared almost black. 

Sully saw when his eyes caught on something on the wall across the room and followed his gaze over the gaggle of other patrons to see what captured his attention. A large framed picture hung as a focal point above the pool table, surrounded by smaller framed photos of a variety of people, the backgrounds of many of them showed the ambience of the very bar they were hung in, heads tilted in laughter, glasses raised in salute. A viewer couldn’t help but smile at the joy that poured out of those photos. The large photo in the middle of it all showed two men, each with an arm wrapped around the other and clinking together tall glasses of frothy beer with the caricature of the cigar smoking chicken from the faded sign outside emblazoned on the glasses. The eyes of the man on the right were crinkled shut, his smile wide and you could almost hear the laughter he must have been emitting as the photo was snapped, the man on the left had a mischievous glint in his eyes and a barely controlled smirk moments from erupting into laughter as well. 

Sully smiled sadly at it, remembering the history behind the photo that Eduardo had told him just a couple weeks before.

“That’s Eduardo and his brother. They opened this bar together nearly twenty years ago.”

Nate's eyes flicked between the photo and Eduardo pouring drinks at the other end of the bar, vaguely nodding as he recognized the resemblance between the man and the younger version in the photo. He was the one on the right, captured in laughter.

Eduardo swept back towards them with their drinks, setting the glasses down with a satisfying thump on the solid wood bartop, rubbed smooth by decades of glassware and elbows sliding across it. He snatched a wooden bowl from further down the bar, one of several scattered around and plopped it between them, offering a selection of salted nuts. He glanced between the two men, measuring the mood between them until he saw Nate still vacantly staring at the framed photo.

“Ah, another patron captivated by my brother's charm?” Eduardo grinned, almost as wide as the photo, his eyes crinkling into a now familiar pattern of crows feet caused by decades of laughter. “Ignacio had that charm around him, he drew people's attention effortlessly.”

Nate focused on Eduardo and swallowed hard before speaking. “Had?”

“Fifteen years he’s been gone now,” he said with a smile, “I miss him every day, more than anything, but I cherish every memory I had with him.” Eduardo leaned his hip against the lower service side of the bar, folding thick arms across his broad chest as he gazed fondly at the photo. “I was the kid brother who annoyed him whenever he wasn’t working, and sometimes he had to travel far for his work and I wouldn’t see him for months, but he always came back for me.”

He shoved off from the counter, excitedly digging into the pocket of his black linen pants he produced a flat bottle opener. The scuffed red colour of the metal was only visible in small areas, the edges of the material worn and shiny down to the bare metal all the way around the rounded rectangle. He flipped it around lovingly in his hands. “He got me this when he went to Colombia when I was sixteen. He had so many stories of the places he saw, people he met. When we opened this bar he promised he would take me there, but he got sick before we could become even slightly financially stable with this bar.”

Sully glanced between Eduardo and Nate, worried how these stories might affect Nate’s already fragile grief. Nate seemed to be stuck, his head absentmindedly bobbing and his eyes glazed over, as though he were operating on autopilot and only half listening. Eduardo also seemed to have drifted off into his thoughts, smiling softly at the bottle opener in his hands. 

Sully cleared his throat. “Well, I hope you can make it there yourself someday, beautiful country, coffee’s great. Say, what is Isabella cooking up back in there, it smells amazing.”

Eduardo shook himself from his reverie and slipped the bottle opener back into his pocket and stood up straight. “Oh Sully, you’re going to love it, I’ll grab you a couple bowls right now!”

When he disappeared into the kitchen, Sully turned to Nate. “You okay still?”

Nate didn’t say anything, merely shrugged one shoulder and stared at the bowl of nuts in front of him. Sully put his hand on Nate's shoulder, squeezing tightly a couple times. 

“It’s hard, kid. I know it’s hard, but look at Eduardo. It’s a heavy weight to bear right now but it’ll get easier. It just takes time.”

A flicker of doubt crossed Nate’s face. He couldn’t see it yet and probably wouldn’t for a while.

“We-” Nate’s voice broke and he cleared his throat before trying again. “We never really had any pictures of the two of us. Not since we were kids. I can remember seeing some when I was really young but we didn’t really have much with us when we went to the orphanage, let alone pictures. And if mom had any, they didn’t end up with her books.”

Sully nodded sadly, looking down at the countertop. He had boxes of old photographs in storage back home, his mother had taken photos of everything, even the kittens that had been born to a stray cat under their back porch when he was barely 3 years old, so there were boxes of albums and even more shoeboxes of loose photos. Photos that were deemed precious enough to pass on, full of faces he didn’t even know the names of from when his mother was young, before his time. She had treasured them, and he kept them safe even if he didn’t necessarily understand the context of many of them. 

There were albums full of family vacation photos, from when they had packed themselves into his dads Studebaker Coupe and travelled through the southern states during the summer. Albums full of school photos, from the home shorn bowl cut in grade 2 all the way through to the regrettable mullet and barely there moustache he wore with pride in highschool. At the time he didn’t get it, he didn’t know why his mother insisted on taking photos at what seemed like every little moment and carefully preserving them in her albums.

He gets it now. 

“I’m sorry, kid.”

Nathan picked up his glass and swirled the amber liquid around, the ice cubes tinkling against the glass and shrugged. “Nothing I can do about it now.”

Sully picked up his glass and tipped the rim towards Nate’s. “To Sam.”

Nate swallowed hard but lifted his drink to clink against Sully’s. “To Sam,” he echoed. Together they thumped their glasses against the bartop and took a drink. It was the first drink Nate had had in weeks and he grimaced at the burn down his throat. “Awful stuff. He would’ve loved it though.”

“He had better taste than you, that's for sure,” Sully said with a chuckle, pleased to see a half hearted grin on Nate’s face.

“He would whip us both at pool too, but I think I could take you.” Nate said, tilting his head to gesture at the pool tables with his chin.

“I’ll take that bet. After we eat though, I play better with a full stomach. Isabella’s food is going to knock your socks off!” Sully shot back the rest of his drink and slammed the glass onto the counter before sliding off the side of his stool. “I’m going to hit the head while we’re waiting.”

He headed off towards the washroom at the back of the room, stepping past the big group of people gathered around the bar. A woman with long dark brown hair sat on a stool with her back against the edge of the bartop, gracefully holding the rim of a stemless wine glass between two fingers, her eyes following as he walked passed. Sully tilted his head towards her with a smile as they made eye contact. Next to her stood a big guy, leaning against the bar and draping his arm across her shoulders, pressing himself into her space and laughing obnoxiously at whatever his buddy next to him had just said. When he saw Sully smiling at the woman, his expression changed to fury.

“Keep walking, old man.” He growled and he pulled his arm closer to her neck possessively.

Sully gave a half assed salute and nodded, carrying on his way around the corner and down the narrow hallway. 

As he finished up his business in the washroom he heard loud voices from the front room, opening the door he paused to listen as the voices carried down the hallway.

“I said, are you looking at my girl?” Sully recognized the voice of the big guy with the girl under his arm at the bar.

“No?” That was Nate, sounding confused. “I wasn’t looking at her, I was look–”

“Oh, so you think she’s ugly then, is that it?”

Sully started down the hallway as Nate sounded even more bewildered. “No, she’s very pretty, but I wasn’t–”

“Oh, so you were looking at her, huh?” 

Sully made it around the corner just as the guy shoved off the counter, stalking towards Nate, who was leaning back with his hands raised slightly in front of him.

“Look man, I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have come here.”

Before Nate could react, the big guy swung at him with a hard right hook across the jaw, knocking him off of the stool and he hit the ground hard. The big guy stalked forward, towering over Nate as he scrambled on the floor, managing to grab the leg of the stool as he pushed himself to his feet and took a few steps back, wielding the stool like a weapon to defend himself. 

“Hey, leave him alone!” Sully called out and he pushed through the group, trying to get to Nate.

“Sit down, old man.” 

Someone behind Sully slammed their hands into his shoulders, causing him to stumble and he fell forward, catching the edge of the countertop just below his ribs and all the air was forced out of his lungs. He slumped to the floor, retching as his body automatically tried to drag in air that his lungs couldn’t remember how to deal with. People were stepping over him, kicking his legs as they tried to get around him, not paying him any attention as he struggled to breathe.

After an agonizing long time, he finally managed to take a productive gasp of air, his eyes watering as he took another heave that turned into a cough, which nearly turned into gagging. 

Another kick to his shin motivated him to gather himself together, grabbing the edge of the bar he pulled himself to his feet, bracing himself against it as he continued to try to catch his breath. 

A thin hand with soft skin settled on Sully’s shoulder and he turned to find the pretty girl from before looking at him with concern. “Are you ok?”

Sully turned his head away from her to cough into his shoulder before smiling widely at her. “I’m good, love!”

“Your friends not,” She said, tilting her chin in Nate’s direction.

Sully turned just in time to see Nate brandish the stool he was holding like a bat, swinging it towards the big guy's hip. The guy caught the stool, using it and Nate’s grip on it to yank Nate towards himself to pull him off balance.

Nate leaned into it, using the forward momentum to try to tackle the guy around the waist and pushing him back against the bar and sending drinks and plates tumbling to the ground.

Eduardo emerged from the kitchen, yelling loud and fast, so quickly that Sully couldn’t keep up but he caught “Carlos” in the rapid fire Spanish.

‘Carlos’ was clearly the brute that was grappling with Nate, yelling out as his spine hit the edge of the bar top. He clasped his big meaty hands together and slammed them down, driving both fists into the middle of Nates back. Nate grunted and his arms released, collapsing against Carlos’ legs. 

Carlos fisted his hand into Nate's hair, yanking his head back before driving his knee into his nose. Blood spurted out immediately as Nate fell backwards, hitting the floor with his arms splayed out, dazed. Carlos stalked forward and knelt on the floor, one knee on either side of Nate’s hips as he straddled him.

“Get off of him!” Sully yelled, rushing forwards and trying to grasp Carlos’ raised fist as the big guy grabbed the neck of Nate’s shirt with his other hand, lifting his head off of the floor. 

One effortless shove and Sully was sent stumbling backwards, caught before he hit the floor by Carlos’ posse, who latched onto his arms and forced him to his knees, pinning him in place. A front row seat as Carlos started whaling on Nate.

At first Nate weakly tried to fight back, becoming aware enough to bring his hands up and desperately trying to untangle Carlos’ hand from his shirt, trying to get his fingers in between Carlos’ fingers to try and pull them away but it was useless against the iron grip that he had. 

The big guys fist landed with a sickening crunch against Nate’s cheek, his head jerking to the side as blood from his nose spattered across the floor. He went limp immediately, his raised hands flopping against his chest uselessly and head lolling against the floor as Carlos jerked him into an upright position again, pulling back for another punch.

Sully could only yell as he struggled against the men holding him down, barely aware of what curses he screamed at Carlos and the other men as Carlos pummeled on Nate, who already hung unresponsive in his grip, his head limply rocking back and forth with every hit. Sully struggled against the men, trying to kick at them until his knee slipped out from under him and he was slammed face first into the floor, now stuck pinned to the floor and even more helpless than he started.

Finally Carlos released his grip on Nate's shirt and he dropped to the floor, his arms splayed out on either side of him. For a moment Sully felt relieved until Carlos' hand wrapped around Nate's throat instead. Sully could see how the pressure of his thumb across Nate's Adams apple immediately interfered with his ability to swallow, his head tilting back as he unconsciously tried to breathe. 

The discomfort roused him back to semi-consciousness though, his eyes opening to slits as his hands flailed for something to latch onto. 

He weakly tried to pry the hand away from his throat, to no avail yet again, before reaching out for Carlos's face or his throat, anything he could latch onto to try to fight him off. It was a useless battle, even being on the tall and lanky side he didn't have the reach that his much bigger opponent did and he was in such rough shape already.

Sully started yelling even louder, fighting like hell to get some sort of leverage against his captors as Nate's eyes rolled back in his head and his hands flopped to the floor again, succumbing to the lack of oxygen.

Just as he passed out, a pair of hard soled leather shoes hit the ground just in front of Sully, Eduardo joining the fray via a leap over the bar with more athleticism than Sully would've expected from the pot bellied proprietor. 

"Get off!" Eddie yelled as he delivered a powerful kick to the side of Carlos' ribcage. The force of the impact sent Carlos toppling over, his grip on Nate's shirt dragging the unconscious man over with him, rolling him onto his side. 

Eduardo jumped on Carlos, kicking him in the back of the knee as he tried to get up and wrapping an arm around his neck, capturing him in a chokehold. 

The resulting uproar from the posse was silenced at the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked. Straining against the weight on his back Sully turned his head to see the barrel of the gun poking over the top of the bar, aimed at the two holding him to the floor. He recognized Isabella's voice as she spoke, her voice a dare that any sane person knew better than to challenge.

"Get out." 

The men holding him down slowly moved back, clearly familiar with her no nonsense disposition. Eddie had the winning personality that brought the customers in and coming back, Isabella was the one that made sure they left when they were no longer welcome.

As soon as the hands were off, Sully scrambled towards Nate, tripping over his own feet and then Carlos' as Eduardo disentangled him from Nate and dragged him towards the door. 

"Shit, Nate," Sully muttered as he gently rolled Nathan onto his back. His breath hitched in his throat as Nate flopped against his leg. Sully snaked a hand under Nate’s shoulders and carefully lifted his upper body off the floor, cradling Nate’s head against his shoulder. “C’mon kid, open your eyes.”

There was a slight fluttering of Nate’s eyelashes but he didn’t wake.

“C’mon kid,” Sully muttered, gently tapping his fingers against Nate’s cheek. The skin on his face was already red and angry, Sully could tell that soon he’d be riddled in bruises and swelling up. The bottom part of his face was covered in blood leaking from his nose, following the call of gravity as it ran down across his cheek, pooling in his ears and wetting his hair. His jaw hung loose and Sully could hear the labour each breath took, catching in his throat. “Hey c’mon, Nate.”

Nate’s eyelashes fluttered briefly again and Sully saw a flicker of blue. 

“C’mon kid— Nathan!” Sully could feel the desperation building in his chest the longer the younger man remained unconscious and he raised his voice, his hand clutching onto Nate’s shoulder and shaking him.

Nate’s head lolled against Sully’s shoulder and his eyes rolled open. He winced, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment again before finally opening them. He blinked blearily up at Sully, his brow furrowing in pain and confusion.

“S-Sam?” Nate struggled to sit up, frantically looking around as he grabbed at Sully’s shoulder. “Sam, what happened?”

Sully felt as though his heart had dropped in his chest at the name. “Hey, take it easy, don’t get up yet.”

“Sam—” Nate faltered as he looked up at Sully and finally realized who it was leaning over him. Sully could almost see the gears turning in his head as he sought for an answer, heard the hitch in his breath as the memories surfaced, and felt the tightening of his hand on Sully’s shoulder moments before the anguish poured over him, his blood covered face crumpling when he realized his brother wasn’t there. That his brother would never be there again. 

Sully pulled Nate closer, wrapping his friend in a tight hug. Nate collapsed against him, exhausted and in pain, both physically and emotionally, surrendering fully to the support offered as sobs ripped through him. 

They sat there on the floor for a while, Sully cradling Nate against his chest with his back turned to the rest of the bar as Eduardo and Isabella escorted the rest of Carlos' group off of the premises. Sully felt like he could finally relax when he heard the lock on the deadbolt click into place and the neon bar lights in the windows flicked off. 

Isabella settled on her knees in front of Sully with a pack of frozen vegetables wrapped in a kitchen towel in her hand and offered it to him. He gratefully accepted it and encouraged Nate to lean back again.

“Hey kid, let me see ya,” He said quietly. “Your face is going to be big as a melon if we don’t deal with it soon.”

He pressed the cold towel over Nate’s eyebrow and cheek area, quietly apologizing as Nate winced at the contact. His hands fumbled upwards, feeling for the ice pack and taking control of it so Sully could let go, instead just holding Nate steady in the awkward halfway to seated position they had wound up in. 

Eduardo approached and Sully heard him and Isabella conversing in Spanish until Isabella stood and went back into the kitchen, while Eduardo took her place on the floor, laying a large hand on Nate’s shoulder. “My apologies, Carlos has never been a pleasant man to be around.”

“Are we going to run into trouble trying to get out of here?” Sully asked.

“No, Carlos is Isabella’s little cousin. He knows better than to mess with her, or his mother if she opts to tell on him.” Eduardo replied with a smirk.

Isabella returned with something wrapped in towels propped on her hip and held out her empty hand towards Sully. “Give me your keys, I will drive your truck. Eduardo will take you out the back.”

Eduardo leaned forward, offering to help Nate get to his feet as Sully fished the keys out of his pocket and handed them over as he stood. Nate groaned as Eduardo pulled him up, his eye that wasn’t already swelling shut falling closed and his head tilting back as he slumped against his chest. The improvised ice pack fell from his fingers and hit the floor, which Sully quickly picked up, choosing to hold onto it until they got him settled in the vehicle.

“Take it easy, I’ve got you,” Eduardo reassured him. Nate grunted in surprise, his eyes flying open as Eduardo bent over and then scooped Nate into his arms, carrying him bridal style into the kitchen and out the back door. Nate hissed a bit at the pressure against his achy body, but didn’t outright complain. He looked exhausted, beaten down and ready to pass out at a moment's notice.

Sully pulled the door closed behind them and then jogged ahead to open the back door of the car parked right behind the kitchen, an old BMW from the 60’s. He opened the door and slid across the back seat before turning to help Eduardo lower Nate into the back seat, getting his arms under Nate’s to pull him close enough to rest his head on Sully’s lap. Nate whimpered at the jostling, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. 

“Sorry! Sorry kid, you’re alright, I’ve got you,” Sully tried to reassure him, running his hand through Nate’s hair. Nate clung to Sully’s knee as Eduardo finished manoeuvring his body onto the back seat, his legs awkwardly bent so that the door could be closed. 

“Here, let's get this back on,” Sully said as a warning before placing the ice pack against Nate’s cheek. He couldn’t be sure, but he might have heard a muffled ‘thanks’ from Nate as Eduardo’s door slammed and the car engine roared to life, a couple gentle revs needed to keep the engine from sputtering out before he shifted into gear and eased the car out of the alley, heading off towards their rental.

The Jeep was parked out front already when they arrived, the lights on the porch and front room lighting up the area so it was easy to see as the three of them worked on getting out of the old car. Eduardo offered to carry Nate again, which Nate rejected, resolutely attempting to put one foot in front of the other on his own. 

Which worked out for a few steps until he staggered and nearly fell before Sully got his shoulder under Nate’s armpit, wrapping his arm around the younger man's torso. Nate gratefully leaned against him as the pair of them slowly made their way up the short staircase to the porch.

Inside, Isabella was already working away in their kitchen. Sully recognized the towels from the package she had left the bar with haphazardly folded on the table and an unfamiliar pot on the stove that she was heating up. 

Nate lurched towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and Sully helped him along all the way to Nate’s room at the back of the house. Books littered nearly every surface in the room, including a few on the bed that they carefully avoided as Nate sat on the edge of it. When he felt half confident that Nate wouldn’t immediately tip over without support, Sully quickly gathered the errant books and stacked them on the edge of the small side table.

Nate started to waver, dully staring at the wall ahead of him as Sully bustled around him until he gently pushed Nate backwards, guiding his head to the pillow and then lifting his legs onto the bed. Nate sighed heavily as he settled into the bed.

Eduardo knocked on the partially open door, leaning in without waiting for a response to hand over a baggy of ice cubes wrapped in a towel and a damp face cloth. Sully gratefully took them and placed the cold package against the darkening bruises around Nate’s throat, causing him to wince. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the two of them alone as Sully started to wipe the blood from Nate’s face.

“Sorry kid.” He was being as gentle as he could, but even the slightest touches seemed to hurt.

“I can’t remember what his voice sounds like.”

“What?” Sully paused, confused at the statement.

Nate took a shaky breath, the one eye he could open welling up with tears. “Sam. I already can’t remember what his voice sounds like.”

Sully took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it rush out. 

“It’s only been a few months and I can’t hear his voice in my head anymore.” Nate stared at the ceiling but Sully wasn’t sure just how much he could even see through the tears. He choked on a hiccup before he started to ramble on. “When mom died Sam said a few weeks later that he couldn’t remember what her laugh sounded like. I think I was too numb to think about it at the time, but he was right. I couldn’t hear her voice anymore.” His face twisted into anguish as a sob ripped through him. “And now I can’t hear him either.”

Sully felt his own heart break as his friend fell apart in front of him. It wasn’t something he had thought about before, and for a moment he denied it to himself. Of course he could still hear what Samuel sounded like. But when he tried to imagine it, he could remember conversations that they had shared, but the things that Sam said… they were just words in his head now. The actual sound of Sam’s voice wasn’t there anymore.

Nate started to curl into himself, one hand latched to his forehead and covering his eyes, the flesh of his fingertips turning bone white at how tightly he clenched onto his own head. The other hand pressed against his throat, the already sensitive and aching muscles feeling like they were going to be torn apart as he choked on the grief clawing its way up his oesophagus, rending a pain that he felt to his very core. He rolled to his side, towards Sully, curling into a ball as much as he could. His knees collided with Sully’s back and he blindly latched onto his friend, burying his face in Sully’s shirt as the tears and sobs continued. It felt like the tears would never end. There was no end to this ocean of anguish, he would never find the bottom and he would never find the surface again, never be able to take a proper breath and he would drown right there on dry land. 

All he could do was fall apart and see what there was left to pick up if this pain ever ended.

And all Sully could do was try to hold onto the pieces. He held onto Nate as best as he could, one hand rubbing up and down his back, the other carding through his hair as the young man trembled against him. He subconsciously tried to reassure him, murmuring platitudes of “It’s okay, it’s alright, I’ve got you.” He didn’t know what else to say, he’d never been good with words, but it felt more important to just say something even slightly reassuring rather than letting him wallow in silence.

He didn’t keep track of the time, it wasn’t important, but eventually Nate fell into a fitful sleep. Sully carefully extricated himself from Nate’s loose grip and gently lifted his head to stuff the pillow underneath him. He grabbed an extra blanket from the wardrobe in the corner, spreading it over Nate and tucked it in. 

He spotted the towel that had held the ice pack and tugged it out from under Nate’s arm, now fully melted but thankfully not having leaked everywhere and returned to the kitchen with it. Eddie and Isabella were gone, a note left on the counter in Eddie’s chicken scratch writing letting him know the food Isabella had brought was packed in the fridge and one of them would be back before lunch the next day with more and if they needed anything at all, to give him a call and then his phone number scrawled underneath. 

He flicked off the lights, grabbed a kitchen chair and carried it back to Nate’s room, where he settled in next to the bed with his feet propped on the foot of the bed, resolving to not let Nate wake up alone during the night.

~

Two days passed in near silence. Nate slept through most of it, only interrupted by Sully bringing him food that Eddie or Isabella delivered twice a day. Everything they brought was like magic, something soft or a soup that would be easy for Nate to swallow with his achy throat, but still hearty and filling, even with the small amount that Nate would manage to pick at before going back to sleep.

On the third morning, Sully was sitting in the living room, his back aching from spending the nights sitting next to Nate's bed, half heartedly working on a crossword puzzle in a newspaper that just wasn’t working out with the words he could think of. He was about ready to give up when he heard the shower turn on and he glanced at his watch. It would be a reasonable time for breakfast and Eddie’s new habit of stopping by with lunch wouldn’t be for another couple hours. If Nate was feeling well enough to get in the shower by his own volition, maybe he would be up to having breakfast.

Sully puttered into the kitchen and opened the fridge to see what he had on hand. It had been a while since he made it to the market in the next town over so there wasn’t much, but there were a few eggs, the last chunk of a block of cheese, and some milk in the bottom of the jar. Enough to make some omelettes, he supposed. He’d need to visit the market today and restock, they wouldn’t be able to rely on Eddie and Isabella’s kindness forever. Maybe he could ask Eddie to stick around and keep an eye on Nate while he slipped out for a bit.

This would be that much better with veggies, Sully mused to himself as he whipped the eggs into a slurry. On a whim he opened the freezer door and found the bag of frozen veggies that Isabella had given Nate to use as an ice pack at the bar. It was funny, but also absolutely not at all. With that mix of emotions, he ripped the bag open and poured it into the pan to mix with the eggs and cheese.

He had just plated the omelettes and set them on the small kitchen table with a pot of coffee when Nathan emerged from the hallway wearing a clean long sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows. He held onto the strap of his backpack slung over one shoulder, and in the other hand he clutched a small leather bound journal. He looked haggard still. The swelling around his eye had gone down so he could sorta open it, but the flesh was still black around the socket, the rest of his face mottled with shades of purple and green.

He looked surprised to see the spread on the table.

“Do I need to pack my bag or can a guy have breakfast before we hit the road?” Sully asked as he pulled out a chair.

“We can eat.” 

“Good. You know how cranky I can get without a meal to start the day.” Nate smirked at Sully’s comment as he dropped his bag and placed the journal on top before taking a seat at the table.

“Isabella brought this last night, freshly squeezed,” Sully said as he poured orange juice from a glass jar into cups.

Nate picked up his cup, swirling the pulpy liquid around. “Sam always hated pulp in his juice. Said it wasn’t right to drink anything with that sort of texture.”

“To each their own,” Sully said, picking up his glass. He was about to take a swig when Nate held his glass up, extending it towards Sully.

“To Sam.”

“To Sam,” Sully echoed. 

It took time, but eventually Nate seemed like he was doing okay. Sully never wanted to pick at that particular scab, not wanting to open up the well of grief even if he knew he would always be there to help Nate deal with it, so he waited for Nate to say something first if he needed to.

It was nearly 15 years later when Sully heard Nathan mention Sam’s name again.

[nottabear]

Diary of a Dark Consort

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14 Flamerule, 1492

Spoiled I am, showered with gifts.  Rewards for keeping him happy, for obeying

My days have been filled with dress fittings, etiquette practice, and dance lessons.  Astarion does not want me to make a fool of myself at the ball, so he has been teaching me all I need to know.  There is so much to learn with so little time.  Only two more sleeps till we host the first ball of many in the Sun Palace.

Nobels follow so many arbitrary rules, painting themselves in a different hue than the rest of the city folks to show off their fabricated importance.  They have rules for everything, from the way they raise their goblets to the way they walk and talk.  How to properly greet someone, bending and twisting into the perfect curtsy.

Do not sit that way, cross your legs but not at the knee.

No looking at the ground when you walk, keep your head high.  There are no puddles of muck that need avoiding, no lose stones to trip over, no reason to look down all the time.

Elbows always off the table, back straight no slouching, move your eyes to look not your head.

Think carefully before you speak.  Do my words serve a purpose in this conversation or do I just want attention, remind myself every time before I speak.

play the role  play the role  play the role. 

This morning at breakfast Astarion surprised me with a gift.  A beautiful necklace made of gold and embellished with red gems.  The red and gold cascade down my neck, red gems a mirage in a desert of gold.  I never want to take it off, never will  can   

I would have never been able to wear something like this living in the lower city.  It would have been stollen right off my neck or broken within a few days.

He also gave me more bracelets than I can wear at once.  More earrings than I have holes in my ears.  So many precious gems and stones embellished on them all.

I am going to shine at the ball!

I have not had much time to practice my violin, to learn the proper songs to play for Nobels. 

I really want to play them my own ballads, the ones I know best, but Astarion said it is not the music people enjoy in the upper city.  I would be laughed at; people would yell at me till I got off the dais.  Then I would just run away crying and upset.  I do not want that; he does not want that for me.  It is for the best I learn the other songs. 

It is all for the best.  All for me.  All for us.