#truly a happenstance that makes it seem like they came together for the recording of that one (1) song
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the great thing about dutch rock band focus is that it never stops being funny to me that their most successful song ever is hocus pocus (by focus)
#truly a happenstance that makes it seem like they came together for the recording of that one (1) song#and picked a rhyming name just for the hell of it. even though hocus pocus only appears on the second album#(not the first. the first only had tracks called focus. by focus. not NEARLY as funny)#so yk. this is sort of like if U2 were mostly known for a song called choo choo. if nirvana had done the mahna mahna muppets song#and they were essentially ONLY known to the wider public for the mahna mahna song in spite of recording it in the 70s#and being around literally to this day. which weirdly fits as a comparison because the lyrics of mahna mahna and hocus pocus#make roughly an equal amount of sense!#which is not to say they don't both go hard. of course they do#*
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Wedding Party I
Summary: Ben hardy x fem!reader. Lucy and Ramiâs wedding is coming up and you and Ben are both part of the wedding party, with one catch.Â
Word Count:Â 4.6k
Warnings: cussing, fluff, some roasting of readerÂ
A/N: This is the third and final part of my 500 follower celebration!! Though you might be able to guess that this will have more than one part, so stay tuned! Thank you so much again to everyone who follows me, including the people that have since I hit 500, cause itâs been a minute, whoops. Iâm hoping to post updates to this weekly until itâs done. (Side note, obviously not shaming reader and neither are any of her friends, including Lucy, she just doesnât want any drama.) Any feedback is super appreciated but especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing âcause I get to hear what you think!
Part II, Part III, Part IV, Mini i, Mini ii, Masterlist
(hot hot hot gif by @mrbenhardysâ)
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Over the past couple years, you had found yourself attending no fewer than three weddings a year, and last year broke the record with six. It was always a bit of a to do but you enjoyed it nonetheless, happy to see your friends happy and to go to a party. You hadnât always been so happy to go; originally you were a little cynical and bitter about being single while all of your school and university friends got married. But then, at the second wedding you had been to, you hooked up with the best man and your opinion had been changed. It was easy to be happy for the happy couple when you were having hot sex with friends of friends with no chance for strings or feelings.
As such, you had grown a bit of a reputation among your friends that had borne witness to this behavior. A few teased you about it, a couple were silent, and a few more cheered you on, but none tried to stop you. This was mainly because none of them had seen how it would negatively impact them. And it wasnât like it was terrible, but on more than one occasion you and some other guest had been walked in on, sometimes only a heated making out, but sometimes in the act. You had apologized and even tried to make it till after the reception, but it was hard sometimes with all the free booze and romantic songs and pretty lights making you hornier than ever.
Maybe there had been some awkward happenings when it was a destination wedding and the wedding party had events the next day. While you were happy with the one and done, some of the men you had hooked up with would be miffed when you kicked them out after the deed and didnât seem so interested the next morning. After a couple uncomfortable brunches where everyone could feel the tension in the air (and not the good kind), you had decided to stick with the guys that were just a bit douchey and wouldnât be so pained at a one night stand. Not that they didnât sometimes get butthurt when you dropped âem too.
But to you, that was the beauty of the thing: hot sex for one night and one night only. You and whoever else you were with would exist in a made-up wedding world for the ceremony, reception, a couple hours of fucking, and then it would all be over and you could go back to your real world without any consequences. Okay, so only a couple consequences.
You thought that you would be able to keep this up indefinitely; you had a ton of friends in relationships who would have plenty of eligible bachelors at their weddings. That is, until your best friend, Lucy, got engaged to Rami. When she had invited you over for brunch just the two of you and had told you the news, you were enthralled for her. Rami was an amazing guy and you had never seen Lucy as happy as when she was with him. And then you were enthralled for yourself when you thought about all Ramiâs actor friends that would undoubtedly be there. You had already met a couple, Joe and Gwilym, and if they were any sign of what level of men would be there, you couldnât wait.
Your daydreams all came crashing down around you when Lucy abruptly said, âYouâre not allowed to fuck anyone at my wedding.â
The two of you had just separated from your happy hug so she put her hands on your shoulders to make sure you looked at her and were paying attention.
âI-I-- What?â you stumbled out, brought from your reverie that was running through a list of A-list celebrity names that might be at the wedding. You tried to look innocent but the fiery look in Lucyâs eyes stopped you. So instead you whined, âWhy?â
Lucy just rolled her eyes, though fondly, and replied, âSit down.â
The two of you sat down at the wonderful brunch she (probably with help from Rami who was quite the home cook) had made and plated a couple items, poured mimosas, and you took your first bite before she continued.
âObviously, Rami and I are very private people. We donât like our relationship broadcasted to the public, and Rami feels that way about most of his life in general. So weâve decided to have a really small wedding. We want it to be intimate and to share our love with each person that attends. We donât feel like we have to prove anything or live up to any crazy standard and invite hundreds of people, half of whom weâve never even spoken to,â Lucy explained, and throughout her little speech you felt yourself get a little emotional because you could tell how truly and deeply she and Rami loved each other. Lucyâs voice cracked a little and you reached your hand over to hers to give it a gentle squeeze.
Lucy took a sip of her drink and then said with a more pointed tone, âSo because we are close friends or family with every single person that will be there, we donât want anybody⊠fraternizing with anybody else and causing⊠awkward circumstances for us or any of the guests.â
ââWe,â Lucy? Rami told you he didnât want me fucking anyone?â you asked sarcastically.
âWell, when I say we I mean me, mainly. But Rami does want a drama-free wedding, as do I,â Lucy conceded. As she finished her sentence, Rami walked in having returned from what looked like the gym.
âWhat about me? Hi Y/N, hi sweet,â Rami said, dropping a kiss to your cheek briefly and then giving Lucy a more substantial one on the lips.
âOh we were just talking about the wedding, you know,â Lucy said and Rami grinned.
âDid you ask her?â he inquired.
âAsk me what?â
âWell you know that Emma and I have had a pact to have each other as our maids of honour since we were like two and three,â she started and you nodded, knowing the story because she and her sister had relayed it many times over the years you had known them. âBut will you do me the honour of being one of my bridesmaids?â A big smile took over your face and you jumped up to hug her, practically yelling âyes!â into her ear. Then you brought Rami into the hug as well, all of you laughing and smiling.
When that was done, you all sat back down, Rami pulling up a chair and grabbing a plate. Then you turned to him and said, âSo Rami, Luce was just about to tell me about all of your friends that are going to be there.â
You were just teasing, but as you saw Lucyâs miffed face, you couldnât help yourself. âYou know, I really liked meeting Joe and Gwilym, itâd be nice to see them again. And canât forget about that Ben who you all talk so much about. âHavenât met him yet, but Iâm sure the wedding will fix that.â
So that Lucy couldnât see, you winked at Rami to make sure he knew you were joking, mostly.
Before you could say another word, Lucy burst out, âNo, do not fuck anyone. Okay? Do. Not. Fuck. Anyone. Especially Ben.â
Your ears perked up at that, âBen? Why especially Ben?â
âUhhhhhhh,â Lucy hesitated for a second, a look of panic taking over her face.
âBecause you guys will be walking together and youâll spend the most time together,â Rami saved her.
âYeah, it would mess up the whole partyâs dynamic. Just donât okay?â Lucy asked with a pleading look in her eyes to make you feel guilty.
âOkay, geez, I wonât. You guys act like Iâm some floozy who canât keep it in her pants,â you half-pouted for a second, but then they both gave you a look. âWhatever, I wonât, I wonât!â
_
Unbeknownst to you, the reason they were so hell-bent on keeping your attention off Ben specifically was not because he was the groomsman to your bridesmaid (although that wouldâve been reason enough). It was actually because Ben had the exact same reputation amongst his friends as you did yours.
After he had gotten out of a more serious relationship a couple years ago, he hadnât settled down again. With plenty of friends getting married, his was the same fruitful situation as yours, and he used it to his benefit. The wedding scene was a lot more reliable than just hitting up any old bar or pub.
Ben had also gotten the no fucking speech, but from Rami when he asked him to be a groomsman. He had agreed to the rule with a begrudging nod. Ben was easier to convince since he was mutual friends with a lot of Lucy and Ramiâs friends and would know most everyone at the wedding.
While you and Lucy had been best friends for years, you werenât an actress and didnât already know most of her actor friends. Because of Lucyâs filming schedules and locations, you relied on a lot of facetime to keep up with each other. You had only met Joe because you had tagged along on a Venice trip with Lucy and Rami. Gwilym you had got to know a bit more because whenever Lucy and Rami were in town for more than a week they liked to have dinner parties or game nights and both of you were frequently in attendance. Benâs filming schedule or other priorities had always prevented him from joining in, at least for times you had gone.
Of course you had seen pictures of Ben on everyoneâs instagram, and maybe had done some stalking of your own. Not to mention you watched Bohemian Rhapsody, obviously, and had caught a couple of other things he had been in just by happenstance. He seemed like a pretty good actor and a pretty great guy from what you could tell. Plus, you trusted the judgement of your friends about his character.
_____
Lucy and Rami werenât ones to do the more extravagant things that some engaged couples did. Instead of a big engagement party, they decided to have a dinner party with just their families and the wedding party.
The party started at 6:30pm, so you got there⊠at 6:50pm. You hadnât meant to be late but you couldnât decide between two dresses, worrying that the one you wanted to wear would be too dressy. You ended up going for it anyway, it was black with an opaque sweetheart neckline and a mesh and lace section that made it sleeveless and so it wasnât actually strapless. It wasnât bodycon but it hugged your curves nicely and had gold shimmery thread as part of the lace that caught the light. You had also done your makeup and hair quickly but thought that the overall effect was nice.
As you arrived at their door, you tried the handle, hoping it was open so you could slip in quietly, but no dice. So you knocked twice and stepped back to wait. No answer came so you knocked again louder and waited again. Just as you were about to raise your hand again, the door swung open and you saw Joe there.
He smiled when he recognized you; the two of you had become quick friends during those couple days in Venice.
But before he could say anything, you glanced past him and asked, âDinner hasnât started, right? Iâm not that late?â
Joe laughed and shook his head, âNo, everyoneâs still getting drinks and stuff. Youâre only like five minutes behind the last person to arrive. Nice to see you by the way.â
You laughed sheepishly and leaned in for the hug he offered, âNice to see you too, Joe. Howâs everything?â
The two of you headed further into the apartment as he told you, âPretty good. I'm actually starting filming just outside London so Iâll be over here basically until right after the wedding. No trips back and forth for me.â
âThatâs great! And that means youâll be âround for game nights. Iâll have to warn you that Gwilym and I make a great team.â
Joe scoffed at that, âGwil and I are a great team, thank you very much.â
âFunny, he hasnât mentioned anything to me about your skills,â you shot back with a smirk.
âGuess weâll just have to ask him.â
âGuess we will.â
Gwilym ended up being the first person the two of you saw as you entered the living room. He saw you walk in and headed over quickly with a big smile on his face.
âAh Y/N, glad you made it!â he said, leaning down for a peck on the cheek and a quick hug.
âYep, and only 20 fashionable minutes late,â you replied and the three of you laughed.
âAlright, alright, introductions are over. We have something to settle with you Gwil,â Joe said seriously.
âOh?â Gwil asked, a little confused.
âThatâs right. Joe and I wanted to know which one of us is the best game night partner,â you asked, pointing an accusatory finger as Joe squinted his eyes at him.
Gwil broke out in laughter, which only seemed slightly nervous. âWell you see⊠Itâs like comparing apples and oranges. Y/N youâre better at trivia but Joe youâre really good at charades.â
Joe and you looked at each other and then back to Gwil.
âSeems like a bit of a cop-out to me,â Joe pointed out.
âYeah, why donât you just give us a real--â
âY/N! There you are!â you heard Lucy calling out to you and you turned to see your best friend excusing herself from some of her family members. She half ran over to you and pulled you in for a tight hug.
âHey you look nice,â you told her when you pulled back and could see her outfit. She was in a flowy cream colored dress with ruffles and gold ribbon sewn in.
âThank you,â she replied. Then a cheeky smile took over her face and she told you, âYou look a bit like a young widow attending her 80-year-old husbandâs funeral after killing him in his sleep. All youâre missing is the black veil.â
âShut up!â
âDonât listen to her, Y/N, you look lovely,â Rami told you as he walked up.
As he kissed your cheek and you leaned in for a hug you told him while looking at Lucy, âThank you, Rami, you truly are such a good friend.â
âIâm just telling it like it is,â Lucy shrugged to everyoneâs amusement.
Everyone got to chatting and catching up, but when you were in the middle of a conversation with Gwil, Lucy pulled you away.
âWhere did he get to?â Lucy wondered, looking around the room. âWho--?â
âAh there he is,â Lucy told herself more than you and started pulling you over to the other side of the room.
You had no idea where she was leading you to until you noticed a man with blonde hair facing the other direction and talking to a couple you didnât know. Realizing it must be Ben, your stomach dropped but whether it was out of anticipation, excitement, or anxiousness you couldnât tell. Ben had been hyped up so much both by your friends and by the idea of him you had in your mind. Now it was even worse after that speech Lucy had given you a couple weeks ago. Even though she hadnât meant to, she was putting all of your attention on Ben with the thought of sex in mind. Now you were just trying to stave it off so you didnât make a fool of yourself upon meeting him.
Taking a deep breath in as Lucy tapped on his shoulder, you tried to ready yourself for anything that might happen. Ben looked quickly and saw that it was Lucy and politely excused himself from the conversation.
Even just hearing him say that made your eyes widen slightly; he had such a deep, rich voice that in any other case your mouth would practically be watering at the thought of what it would sound like in bed. Now, you had that thought but had to drop it quickly from your mind because it would lead places that werenât allowed.
Ben finally turned around, smiling at Lucy and then his expression turned to interest when he saw you.
âBen, Iâd like you to meet my best friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Ben,â Lucy said and the two of you shook hands, smiling and exchanging pleasantries. âOkay so you both already know that youâll be walking together so⊠get to know each other! Become, acquainted, better yet become friends!â
Both of you laughed lightly at Lucyâs words and then waved her off when someone started calling for her.
âSo youâre the infamous Ben,â you said jokingly, looking him up and down as if you were studying him and not as if he was just incredibly good to look at.
âInfamous? Do I have that bad of a reputation?â Ben said back good-naturedly, though he was a little worried you had heard about his penchant for sleeping with people at weddings, especially with Rami confronting him about it.
âWell, maybe not bad, more Iâve just heard about you so much without meeting you that if it werenât for your movies I wouldnât have thought you really existed,â you amended with a smile.
âOh my movies, huh? Youâve seen more than one?â Ben asked cheekily and your cheeks flushed for a moment.
âWell Iâve obviously seen borhap, as you would call it, and I saw X-Men before all that to keep up with the series, and my familyâs very into action movies, so I caught 6 Underground with them,â you explained.
âSeems like youâre pretty familiar with my filmography,â he pointed out with a smile.
âIf thatâs what you wanna thinkâŠâ
âI think that youâve been here for about ten minutes and no oneâs gotten you a drink. Can I fix that?â Ben asked, gesturing to your empty hands.
âLead the way,â you replied, and he guided you over to where a little bar was set up. On the way, you had to remind yourself again of the rules and that though a handsome man was making you a drink, that was all that was happening.
âAlright, theyâve got the works so what would you like?â Ben said with an easy smile.
âOh, um, I like Moscow mules,â you told him.
âGood choice, good choice,â Ben replied as he looked around at the different bottles. âA Moscow muleâŠâ
âDo you know how to make a Moscow mule?â you asked because he had missed the ginger beer bottle about three times.
âWhat? Of course I⊠donât,â he admitted sheepishly.
âItâs okay, I can just make it,â you suggested but Ben shook his head.
âNo, I said I was going to get you a drink, and Iâll make it. If you could just tell me how?â he said with a small smile.
You laughed and nodded, âOkay, so just squeeze a lime wedge into the glass and go ahead and drop it in. Then a couple ice cubes, thatâs good. And now two oz. of vodka, actually why donât you do one and a half, I donât need two right now. Now you just fill the rest with ginger beer and give it a stir!â
Ben stirred the drink and then garnished it with another lime wedge, âTa-da, my first ever Moscow mule and all for you!â
Taking it from him, you waited until he grabbed his own drink again and then held yours up for a cheers. After taking a sip you said, âMmm, very good, just like a real bartender. Do you want to try?â
âSure,â he replied with a smile and you carefully exchanged drinks so he didnât have to hold both while he did. Your hands brushed against each other a couple times and you had to keep your breath from catching at how warm his hands were and the way he looked at you when it happened. âOh wow, yeah thatâs very good. Maybe Iâll have to have these from now on.â
âAnd hey, if the acting thing ever stops working out, you could always fall back on being a bartender,â you joked, unable to stop your laughter.
Ben shook his head but laughed too, saying, âThatâs cold, thatâs cold.â
Then he took another gulp of your drink and you reached forward to get it from him, âHey, thatâs mine, make your own if youâre so good at it.â
âJust a repayment for you being so mean. There, have it back,â he said with a smirk, handing it back to you and grabbing his own drink from your hand.
âHmph,â you held your drink close to you to keep him from getting it again and Ben laughed at your actions, about to say something else when Rami was heard over the chatter saying that dinner was ready.
_
For dinner you were sat in between Lucy and Joe with Ben across from you and Gwilym and Rami next to him. Talk and laughter interrupted the actual eating of the meal, but it was hard to mind because everyone was having so much fun. Lucy and Ramiâs families were on the other side of them, so everyone got to hear funny stories about their childhood as well.
After dinner, you and Emma had volunteered to get the dessert ready after some others had helped put away the dishes. You took it as an opportunity to catch up a little.
âSo, you and that Ben seem to be hitting it off,â Emma said in a teasing tone as she started grabbing little plates from a cupboard.
âPlease, youâre not doing recon for Lucy are you?â you asked with a roll of your eyes and taking the cleaned forks from the dish rack.
Emma looked at you confusedly, âWhat do you mean?â
âShe didnât tell you what she told me?â you asked and she shook her head. You sighed, taking the cover off the homemade sheet cake as you told her, âShe told me that I wasnât allowed to fuck anyone. And especially Ben because weâre walking together.â
Emma broke out in laughter at the words you said and the dejected way in which you said them, accidentally dropping the cake server onto the counter with a clatter, âOh my gosh, honestly I canât blame her, you do kinda wreak havoc on weddings.â
âThatâs not fair! Thereâs only been like two outright verbal fights because of me,â you defended, taking the cake server yourself and starting to cut squares of cake.
âHey, donât take your anger out on the cake,â she pointed to your first haphazard piece of cake. âAnyway, how many passive aggressive altercations have there been because of you?â
âI dunno,â you said with a shrug of your shoulders but Emmaâs look made you add, âFine, a lot.â
âExactly, now Benâs hot Iâll give you that, Â but I think you can survive these next weeks without jumping his bones. Itâs not like youâll be seeing him all the time,â Emma told you.
âYes, yes, Iâll be an adult, whatever. Lucy and Rami already covered this, you know,â you said with a bit of annoyance.
âOkay Iâll shut up. Letâs get this cake out there before thereâs a riot,â she joked and you smiled, following her back into the living room with the pan of cake as she took the forks and plates.
_
Emmaâs speech (you swore next itâll be their mom telling you not to fuck Ben) did give you new resolve not to get too friendly with Ben, thinking it was better to interact with him in groups from now on.
That plan went well for most of the rest of the night as Joe, Gwilym, and Emma proved effective buffers. But then Gwilym had to leave because he had call time in the morning and Joe went with because he was staying with him. Then Emma went off to compare notes with Sami, Ramiâs brother, about their respective maid of honor and best man responsibilities. You looked around and realized that because it was getting later and the families had gone home and Lucy and Rami were off doing who knows what in the kitchen, you were completely alone with Ben.
Not only that, but you were sitting right next to him on the couch and your knees were definitely touching. You tapped your fingers on your cup as you listened to Ben. He was telling you about shooting in Italy, which you had asked about because after going to Venice, you wanted to see more, but it was hard to pay attention. Your focus was being brought to his hands that he used to gesture as he talked. To his hair that he would absent-mindedly run his fingers through whenever a strand fell down onto his forehead. To his lips, oh fuck his full lips, that he licked whenever he smiled or laughed.
You could feel yourself leaning closer to him and if you werenât wrong, his words were slowing down and he was getting closer to you too.
âSo, yeah, I loved Florence, but um, Siena was something-- something special. Itâs, itâs really-- really gorgeous,â Ben finished.
You looked up at him but found that he was looking at your lips and had tugged his own between his teeth. With the second drink in your system and the way you could feel Benâs body heat radiating towards you and pulling you in, you were a second away from saying fuck it iand just kissing him.
âAre you done with your drink? Do you need another or?â Lucyâs voice asking you brought both of you out of whatever state you were in and you moved apart from each other, not so subtly.
You looked to Lucy and didnât miss the pointed look she was giving you. âNo, I should probably actually head out. Iâve got something in the morning, thanks though.â
Ben stood up when you did and you said goodbye with a strictly friendly hug. Then you said goodbye to Lucy, telling her quietly that she didnât have to say anything. You found Rami with Emma and Sami and said goodbye to all of them.
As you were headed to the front door to let yourself out, Ben walked up behind you.
âHold on a second,â he said and you turned around to him with a pleasant smile. âI, um, wanted to give you my number in case thereâs ever anything that we need to discuss or whatever since weâre, you know, walking together.â
Ben was a little awkward getting that out, so you handed your phone to him with a bright, âSure!â to reassure him.
He typed in his phone number and you were ready to walk away with a quick goodbye but Ben got a look in his eye. For a second you thought he was going to kiss you and your breath caught, and then he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Although not the kiss you were expecting, it still had an effect on you. It was different to the ones you had gotten from say Gwilym or Rami. Though it was probably just as quick, it felt a lot longer and just that simple act made your whole body feel warm.
âLooking forward to seeing you soon,â Ben said softly, hardly waiting for your quiet, âyou tooâ before walking back to the living room.
You reached your hand up to the spot on your cheek he had kissed and walked out the door. That warm feeling didnât go away all night.
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#im having a good time with this one#I kinda miss writing series#bohemian rhapsody#borhap#ben hardy#ben jones#queenmylovely#wedding party#bohemian rapsody movie#bohemian rhapsody x reader#borhap boys#borhap cast#borhap x reader#ben hardy x reader#ben jones x reader
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As You Were (Chapter 5)
Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it | Rating: Mature
Masterpost
When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in, what feels like a time warp: a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret. While there, they meet Cici and Noah, a mother and son fighting tirelessly for survival, and who have recently endured a terrible tragedy on their family farm. Amidst their joint desire to find hope for the future, the two groups decide set out west together, changing the course of the story (as we know it), and the very course of their lives.
This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second game. Joel lives.
Chapter 5: Living Room Jam Session
"There are a million ways we should have died before today, and a million ways we can die before tomorrow. But we fight, for every second we get to spend with each other. Whether it's two minutes, or two days, we don't give that up. I don't wanna give that up."
That night, Cici went out to the circuit breaker next to the shed, and she switched on the electric fence. It worked after all.
âItâll use up a lot of fuel,â she said to Joel. âBut we canât risk it.â
The farm was peaceful. Almost like nothing had ever happened. A couple cows had escaped, earlier that day. Joel had offered to help wrangle them, but Noah said donât bother. âWe canât feed them anyway." He shrugged. He slaughtered a cow in the early evening. He showed Joel how to clean and butcher the meat, and how to salt and cure it for longer term use. They had steaks for dinner that night, prepared this time with a few potatoes, seasoned with dill from the garden, which was picked almost clean.
Joel was beginning to gather that their time on that farm was coming to a rapid conclusion. They couldnât stay there, not much longer. If there were spores in the tributaries, that meant they could get into the water table, too. Cici and Noah knew this. They had been making four hour drives to the Fox River in Fon du Lac for several months now, bringing back water sourced from Green Bay. They said this was how they were able to trade for their fuel for the generators, from the Amish on the other side of the hillâmaking long drives to clean water. Even with the rain, they could no longer water their crops or sustain their livestock, and the Infected were becoming more of a threat every day. They had a lot of reserves, but it was only a matter of time before they ran out of food, or worse. Like Cici had said, him and Ellie showing up like they had, it was almost happenstance.
âI can get you your fuel tomorrow,â said Cici. They were still outside, leaning against a tree, looking at the circuit breaker. âYou made good on your bargain. Thank you, Joel.â
Joel had got a big old cut on his forehead from the events down at the trench. She had patched it up for him with alcohol and gauze. Hadnât made a fuss, just did it. âCici, I know we ainât known each other that long, but I ainât leaving you and Noah here to deal with this all by yourselves.â
âYou donât owe us anything.â
âI know that,â said Joel. âAnd trust me, I been wrestling with it myself. But it donât change anything.â
Cici straightened up off the tree and looked around. Her hair was down now, kind of tangly and windswept. Noah and Ellie were inside the house. âNoah said he told you about LaCrosse.â
Joel looked down at the grass as if to count the moonlit blades. âHe didnât go into a lot of detail,â he said. âBut yes, he gave me the gist. Said your husband, he died in a fire. Iâm sorry, Cici. I truly am.â
She just shrugged her shoulders. âWe never got to find out, whatâs been going on,â she said, blinking back tears. âWe couldnât stay, after it happened, and then we couldnât go back.â
âNoah wants me to come with him,â said Joel. âBack. To LaCrosse. He asked me after dinner.â
âThereâs no point,â she said. âThereâs nothing we can do. Even if you find the source of the problem, the farm is too far gone to save.â
âI think itâs more about closure,â said Joel. âHe didnât say as much, but I get it. I told him Iâd go. I hope I ainât crossing any lines in doing so.â
She closed her eyes.
âMe and him are gonna head up tomorrow,â he went on. âI figure, the sooner the better. Shouldnât take more than a couple days. I was gonna ask if you wanted to come with us, or if you'd be okay staying here, with Ellie. I donât want to take her, because sheâs just a kid, and sheâs been through enough, and I donât know what the hell weâre getting into up there, but I wonât leave her here alone.â
âItâs okay,â said Cici. She didnât even try to argue. âIâll stay. I donâtâI canât go back there anyway.â
âDo yâall have anywhere to go?â said Joel. âI mean, aside from this farm? Noah mentioned family down in Moline. The I-80 runs right through there. I donât know what weâll find, but we could take you.â
Cici shook her head slowly, staring at the earth. âMy sister-in-law was trying to get back there like six months ago. She said sheâd come back for us, if it was all clear, but we never heard from her again.â
âI heard about some turf wars going on in the Quad Cities,â said Joel. âJust warning you. It was the kind of place too small for a QZ, but it was too big and too isolated to try and save. The military all but abandoned it. Now that was years ago. Things could have changed. Either way, itâs right on the Mississippi, so if your little problem extends into Illinois and Iowa, it probably ainât gonna be pretty. But we can try.â
She took a deep breath, and she opened and closed her fists a couple times. She had little bones. She was small, but she wasnât a weakling. âI wanna think about it.â
âOkay.â
âLetâs go inside,â she said, pulling herself together. She had this way of tucking her hair behind her ears. It was like hitting a reset button or something. Truth be told, he was a little confounded by Cici. Not in a bad way. He just found it very hard to predict her, despite her seeming steadfastness, as a woman. âEllie and Noah are into the vinyls," she went on. "Who knows what theyâve got playing in there.â
âYou guys got a ton of records,â said Joel as they headed back to the porch in the moonlit grass. âWhat is it with that? You just collectors or something?â
âMy husband was,â she said. âWilliam. He used to say that if the apocalypse ever came, at least weâd still be able to listen to music.â
âWell, he was right,â said Joel.
The seemed to comfort her. He saw her almost smile, out the corner of his eye.
âWhatâs this band called again?â said Ellie. She was sitting on her knees on the floor, in the middle of a big old pile of records. Noah was on the floor nearby, sifting through the pile one-by-one. It had been a long time since heâd really taken inventory, since before his dad died.
He picked up the vinyl, examined it front and back. âThe Wallflowers.â
âThe Wallflowers?â said Ellie. âWeird name, but I like it.â
âDo you know what a wallflower is?â
âUh,â said Ellie, âlike a flower thatâŠgrows out of the wall?â
Noah was amused. âItâs a metaphor. Itâs like, somebody who stands on the sidelines. They donât really get in on the action.â
âOh, that makes sense,â said Ellie.
âThe singer for this band is Bob Dylanâs son.â
âNeat,â said Ellie. âWhoâs Bob Dylan again?â
Noah started going through a stack on his left, where he kept the sixties stuff. âThis guy,â he said.
âAh,â said Ellie. âThe Blowing in the Wind guy. Very cool.â
âDid you guys ever listen to music in the QZ?â
âYeah,â said Ellie, âbut we didnât have records. And everything I wanted, I had to steal or trade for with my ration cards. It was like, music or food sometimes. I had a walkman though, so I would just listen to tapes.â
âDo you still have it?â
âNo,â said Ellie. âIt broke like a thousand miles ago.â
âBummer,â said Noah.
âPretty much.â
They listened to the song. It was called âJosephine.â I know youâve been sad. I know Iâve been bad. But if youâd let me, Iâd make you ribbons from a paper bag.
âWhat do you think this song is about?â said Ellie.
Noah thought about it, looking up at the ceiling. âI think itâs like, the end of a relationship,â he said. âThe guy messed up, but he doesnât feel like heâs good enough for Josephine anyway. Heâs apologizing, and he knows he canât get her back, but he still loves her. Thatâs what I get from it, but it sounds dumb as hell when I say it out loud.â
Ellie examined the sleeve. It was just a whole bunch of yellow stars on a black background. âItâs not dumb,â she said. âItâs just really sad. Why doesnât he think heâs good enough?â
âI donât know,â said Noah. âWhy does anyone think anything?â
Ellie thought this was kind of funny. âGood point.â
âLetâs try this one,â said Noah.
He took the Wallflowers record off the platter, put a new record on.
âWhatâs this?â said Ellie. âLightning Bolt. Pearl Jam? I think Iâve actually heard of these guys.â
âThis oneâs got a story behind it. You want to hear?â
Ellie straightened right up. âHell yeah.â
âOkay,â said Noah, looking down at the sleeve. It was like this big, red eye, full of white lightning bolt decals. âSo apparently like, this album was supposed to be released a few weeks after the day the outbreak officially hit in 2013. It got pushed back like everything else, and then the stores all closed and it just like, never happened. My dad had really been looking forward to it, so like six weeks after shit went dark, him and some guys went to a Best Buy up in Madison and looted all these unreleased vinyls from the warehouse.â
âHoly shit,â said Ellie. âThatâs fucking awesome.â
âI know. He said he had to get by military guys and everything.â
âDude, your dad was a total badass,â said Ellie. âYou should be proud.â
At first Noah got quiet. Ellie hadnât thought anything of it. Sheâd never had a dad, or a mom, or anyone to be proud of like that. She just thought it was so unbelievably rad that he had a story like this to tell other people, about his dad. Eventually, Noah smiled. She smiled along with him. He said, âThereâs one song on here I like a lot.â
âPlay it,â she said. âAs long as itâs not about people breaking up. Because that shit sucks.â
âItâs not,â said Noah.
He set down the needle, and together, they listened.
The song was slow and beautiful, thought Ellie, but it grew. Pianoâcrisp and clean and rushing as the riverâgave way to a manâs voice and the guitar, big as a boat. She sat without talking. She tucked her hands in her lap and looked down at her wrists. She closed her eyes and tried hard to let the music overwhelm her. It was hard for Ellie to let things overwhelm her. She wore heavy armor. She would make a joke. She would roll her eyes.
But this was different than the other song, thought Ellie. It was sad, maybe sentimental, but it was a good kind of sentimental. All the missing crooked hearts, they may die, but in us they live on. I believe. I believe 'cause I can see. Our future days. Days of you and me. It was strong, and it seemed to be about trying. Like, trying to be better, through the eyes of someone else. Loving, and being loved, even when itâs hard. You have to try. It put her back in time, almost to another universe, but she hammered it away. She liked this song much better than the last song. She wished to live inside the music.
When it ended, she looked at Noah, who was looking at the ceiling again, leaning back on his hands and listening, with intent. The song had filled the house with a purifying energy and brought it down, made it simple. The bad things that had happened that day, they were clean.
âThat one was awesome,â said Ellie.
âAre you okay?â said Noah. He seemed like he was half-joking, but sort of earnest. It was enough joking to make her smile, but not too earnest to freak her out.
âOh,â said Ellie, looking down at her shoe laces. âIâm fine. I justâthese songs sort of remind me of someone I once knew. In another life I guess.â
Noah waited what seemed like a long time before he spoke again. He was mulling it over, with his elbows now resting on his knees. Then he said, âI get that.â
They played the song again. Then, they couldnât take it anymore. They took it off and put on some emo shit by a band called Coldplay. It was kind of terrible, they agreed, but they listened anyway, as it was like a dream.
A little while later, Joel and Cici came back inside. Joel held the door for her and once they were in the living room, raised his eyebrows and made fun of the Coldplay.
âYou guys okay in here?â he said. âSounds like you made a wrong turn somewhere.â
âOh, weâre great, Joel,â said Ellie. âYou guys are seriously missing out on our jam session.â
âHa,â said Cici.
Joel stretched and got real big, and then he leaned against the kitchen table. He seemed kind of faded, thought Ellie. He had that cut on his eye. He seemed very tired. âItâs been a long day,â he said. âI think Iâm ready to head up. You wanna come Ellie, or you fixing to stay awake a while longer?â
Ellie got up and wiped her hands on her jeans. Theyâd gotten kind of dusty from handling all the vinyls. âIâll come up,â she said. âIâm pretty wiped.â
âIâll have breakfast ready early,â said Cici.
âSounds fine,â said Joel.
âSee you guys in the morning,â said Noah. He glanced up at Ellie then, as if thankful for something.
When they got upstairs, Ellie went to look in the mirror on the bureau and she took down her ponytail. Her hair felt like a ratâs nest. She started to brush it out, aggressively.
âWhereâd you get that hair brush?â said Joel, taking his shoes off.
âCici let me borrow it,â she said.
âRight,â said Joel. He put his face in his hands then, scrubbed them down his cheeks. âEllieâ"
She stopped mid-brush, turned around. âNoah told me about LaCrosse,â she said. âI wanna come.â
Joel took a deep breath, as this had caught him by surprise. âEllie, no.â
âWell what the fuck?â she said. She set down the brush on the bureau, hard. âWhy the hell not?â
He just took to staring at her. She wasnât actually that mad, he thought, she just seemed genuine in her confusion. âBecause,â he said. âI got no idea what weâre walking into up there.â
âOh, but you did in Pittsburgh, when you drove us straight into a fucking trap?â
âThat is beside the point.â
âHow, Joel?â said Ellie. âNoah is only four years older than me. I can hold my own.â
âThose are four critical years, Ellie,â said Joel. He was trying not to raise his voice. âAnd honestly, it donât matter whether you can hold your own, because this thing going on in, it ainât about you. It ainât about me neither. You understand? Itâs about Noah atoning with his dadâs death. He needs help, and he asked me, and I am providing that for him.â
âI can help,â said Ellie.
âI know you two get along,â said Joel. âBut you're helping most by staying put.â
âWhat about Cici? She doesnât wanna go?â
Joel waved her off, started rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. âNo,â he said. âCiciâs made her peace. Or whatâs left of it.â
âShe doesnât seemâŠat peace.â
âI didnât say she was at peace. I just said sheâs made her peace.â Ellie seemed to understand this, and now, he could tell she was just scared, of being left behind. âLook, Ellie,â he said, shaking his head. âYou canât come. Thatâs the end of this conversation. But weâll only be gone a couple nights. You got Cici with you. She might seem quiet, but I think she's pretty hardcore, and you two got the electric fence. Me and Noah, weâll be okay.â
âI know,â said Ellie, like she was defending herself. She had flipped open her switch blade, was studying the tip. âI know.â
âWe good then?â said Joel.
She hesitated, but then she closed up the knife and flopped back onto the bed. âFine,â she said.
He was relieved.
âBut then you better fucking bring something back for me.â
This surprised him. He gave her a look. âBring something back?â he said. âLike a souvenir?â
âYeah,â she said. âA souvenir.â
âA souvenir from LaCrosse?â
âYou heard me.â
Joel tugged the covers back, was getting ready to crawl beneath. The day had become a heavy weight, all of it resting right on his eye lids. He was glad it was all okay. âAll right,â he said, yawning. âIâll see what I can find.â
âGood,â she said.
âNow get some goddam sleep.â
âAy ay, capân.â
A few minutes went by. Joel was about ready to get under the covers for good when Ellie said, âI gotta pee.â
He looked at her. âNow?â
âIâll be fine.â
âOkay,â he said. âOkay. Justâjust be quick.â
âYou think I wanna take my time peeing in that thing? Outhouses are like the one bad thing about this place. Other than the whole, contaminated-water part, I guess.â
Joel took a breath, told her he would leave his lamp on. âJust hurry, and turn the lamp down when you get back.â
âI will,â she said.
Ellie went pee in the outhouse and did her best not to make any sounds. When she got out, she didn't feel tired, so she went over and stood by the river like a detour. She did not plan on staying long. She just looked at it, right down into it, and then it blinked back at her like the little bitch it was, bubbling deceptively in the moonlight. She  suddenly hated that something so innocent could also be so deadly, and so fucking sad. The night was cooling down but it was still humid. She switched open her knife and wiped the sweat from her forehead on the back of her hand. She switched her knife closed again, then open again. She tried thinking about anything else, but that stupid Pearl Jam song had awakened something inside her.
âI havenât seen you inâŠin I donât know how long,â she said.
"Forty-five days?â said Riley. She was nervous. âWell, forty-six. Technically. Wanna know what Iâve been up to?â
The rain outside was like a drum. Ellie didnât care. âAll this time,â she said. âI thought you were dead.â
Riley felt everything, but just like everybody else in the whole wide world, she couldnât show it. âYeah,â she said. And she took off the dog tag. âHere. Look.â
âGod fucking dammit,â said Ellie. She was on her knees now, overcome by something, and she stabbed the knife into the river bank. âStupid fucking bullshit. Fuck you.â She stabbed it again, and then she felt like a complete dumbass, put it away. She thought about crying but she stared back at the river instead. âGo away,â she said.
âEllie?â said someone. It was Cici, she was calling out to her from the porch. It must have been too long. âEllie, you okay?â
âShit,â said Ellie. "I'm okay." She got up, frantic, and her knees were all wet from the river bank. âI'm okay. I'm coming."
"Just checking," said Cici.
When she got back up to their room, Joel was under the covers. The lamp was dim. He lie very still, on his side, facing the wall, and she stood watching him for a second to see if he'd roll over and scold her or something. But he seemed like he was sleeping, and she was relieved. She didn't know why she cared, but she did. So she turned down the lamp right away and tried to be as quiet as she could so as not to disturb him. She took off her shoes and set them down silently, one by one. Then she took her jeans off, too, hung them over the bedpost to dry. She only had the one pair. She got under the covers and pulled them up to her chin, trying to sink into the mattress, forcing her brain to shut the fuck up. Please. For once, just shut the fuck up. But then,
â'Night, Ellie,â said Joel. He had not moved, by the dim light of the moon coming through the window.
She was near on startled. His voice was really deep and it always filled the room no matter how quiet. âOh, shit,â she said. âSorry, Joel."
"That's okay," he said.
"âNight, Joel.â
Days of you and me.
***
On the record player: âJosephineâ by The Wallflowers, âFuture Daysâ by Pearl Jam, âThe Scientistâ by Coldplay
#the last of us#tlou#the last of us 2#tlou2#joel tlou#ellie tlou#as you were#cw: animal death mention
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Donât Leave Me (With a Smile) Chapter 1
Charlastor 1920s AU AO3Â Link
Summary: New Orleans, 1926. Charlie Magne was the daughter of old money. From the city to the stock market her family had their hands in every pot. In her parentâs ideal world, she was to marry into a wealthy family for connections and continue her motherâs work with the cityâs richest, but Charlie never wanted that. Her father was a reasonable man, she could make him see things her way... maybe (though her time was ticking). Â
Alistair was a coincidence, a happy happenstance. And her way out. She shouldnât have been surprised when she fell in love with him. Before, it had been enough to know that he had loved her.Â
(If you could call the dark, twisted thing in his chest love)
iâm sorry for any typos ahh
--x--x--x--x--
From the glittering skyline to the bustling streets, New Orleans was truly the place to be if you were anybody. Jazz was the cityâs lifeblood and the nightlife was flooded with the clarinets and trumpets playing in tune, drawing in people from miles away.Â
Men and women dressed to the nines walked the streets, laughing and sometimes dancing their way to their destinations whether it be to another club or the coffee shop still open down the block.Â
Similarly, a small group consisting of one man and two women, just at the start of adulthood, barely squeezed their way past the door of a small cafe into the winter air, clutching onto their hats and fur coats respectively.Â
âI donât know why we donât do this more often!â The blonde with a brilliantly powdered face smiled through the cold, viciously happy to be surrounded by friends and free of the demands of her parents, however temporary it may have been.Â
Her clothing was, perhaps, slightly too conservative to have someone call her a âflapperâ, but was well within the style. She was fitted in a gorgeous black dress with golden accents and embroidery in a geometric pattern that shimmered in the streetlight. It covered her arms with sheer golden lace and came up to cover her collar bone. The signature sequin tassels swayed at the cut off just below her knees. Covering it was a beige fur coat that screamed wealth.Â
Perhaps she was a bit sheltered, but it had yet to cause any issues. Well, besides the teasing from her friends that ranged from funny to rather ruthless at times.Â
âYou want me to answer that or ya wanna keep walking, Charlie?â The laugh that followed was loud enough to turn heads.Â
The young man in question was visibly taller than most people, in general. He was roughly a head taller than his companions. White hairs artfully laced through his slicked back brown hair despite his obvious youth. His eyes were a warm brown, complementing the slightly tanned skin.Â
âI know I donât get out a lot, but things are changinâ, Angel! Daddyâs been getting more clients downtown, so he doesnât come home as much as he used to⊠Mamaâs been really busy too but sheâs also willing to give me some leewayâŠâ The girl directed her beaming smile at him as she hurried along down the sidewalk, nearly running into a pole when she turned back around.Â
âCareful! You donât need a bump on the head to ruin your night! And, honestly, do we have to call you that Martin?âÂ
âAngelâ gave her a sharp smile, looking every bit the shark that many had claimed him to be. Charlie was, of course, aware but chose to redirect the two of them to other topics. Even if it meant drawing attention back to herself.Â
âIâm fine, Vaggie! You worry too much!â Charlie smiled down brightly at the dark haired woman who had pulled her away from what may have resulted in a very tedious evening. Vaggie had sun-kissed skin with dark eyes that looked nearly black in the low lighting. She had been her first (and at times her only) friend that her father had approved of.Â
âSays the one who tried to slip in past the broads that you know you couldnât have fit a quarter in between the three they were so close together.â Angel smiled even wider, before looking over to the side and waving at a group of people across the street.
Charlieâs smile dimmed to a more mute, yet still appropriately impish, grin before she tucked into Vaggieâs side. âItâs just - Iâm so excited! Can you blame me?âÂ
The answer differed from the faces her two friends made at her. One entirely endearing while the other was more⊠over it, for lack of better words. Charlie frowned a bit, mostly for show.Â
She tried to justify herself. âLights, crowds of dancers, and all the latest music.â She popped up, almost twirling in place. âItâs just so glamorous, and Daddy has been home for days now, and you know how he is,â she drawled, smirking almost innocently up at the tall âAngelâ. Â
When âLuciferâ (as many of his business partners had taken to calling him) was home, he preferred older tunes that practically put Charlie to sleep. She could barely find moments where she could put in her records or turn on the radio to listen in without her Daddy hollering for her to turn that trash off.Â
Charlieâs father was a charming and charismatic man, when he wanted to be. He treated his daughter as if she was the most precious object in the entire universe. The amount of photos stuffed in nearly ten photo albums from ages zero to three showed the dedication he had towards his little girl.Â
And perhaps that was the reason it had become a problem, especially as of lately. The only good thing that came out of the attention these days was that it extended the time she spent in the house and not out finding a husband. Even now, he was hesitant about giving her away and having her no longer in his sights (perhaps that was why he was looking so meticulously, to find someone that may easily fit under his thumb).Â
âIf you ask me, your pops has got a few screws loose up in his noggin. I mean, come on, youâre twenty-one! Practically an old maid, and he hasnât even let you go out on a date!â He laughed, hand casually hooking her away from Vaggie and into his side, squashing her into his fashionably striped suit.Â
They were nearing the club, the music growing audibly louder from the sidewalk.Â
âIâve been on dates before!âÂ
âHoney, being chaperoned by Daddy dearest who makes it a point to play with the steak knife ainât exactly what I would call a date.â He flipped his hair up, tilting his head down so Charlie could see the near mocking grin painted across his features.Â
âLay off her, Angel. I donât see anyone coming to ask to date you.â Vaggie put a protective hand on Charlieâs shoulder and practically yanked her away from him.Â
âAw come on; donât be such a tart, I didnât mean any harm by it! Iâm just saying thatâs itâs not natural. She should be goinâ out! Having the time of her life! Not sitting home all day doinâ whatever her âdaddyâ wants her doinâ,â he made a derisive hand motion, rolling his eyes.
A sly grin took over and Charlie knew exactly what he was going to say.Â
âIf youâd just let me introduce you to some of my friends - âÂ
âYou mean some of your family, Matra - âÂ
âShhush!â He nearly jumped over them to cover both of their mouths, regardless of the fact that Charlie wasnât even saying anything to begin with. It drew a few lingering eyes to their party. âYou want me to get ganked? You canât say that type of shit in these parts.âÂ
Vaggie didnât look particularly apologetic and simply shrugged him off, opting to pull Charlie along with her. She gave him a smug look as they stepped up to doors that barely seemed to contain the music inside.Â
ââK, but seriously toots. I got a cousin that goes by Arlo. Heâs a bit of a sap, but heâd treat you right.âÂ
âNone of you would get Daddyâs money if he didnât approve, and Iâm not so sure heâd be happy getting involved with your family.âÂ
New Orleans wasnât as bad as, say, Chicago or New York when it came to gang or mafioso violence, but it wasnât the cleanest either. A politician had been mysteriously âremovedâ when heâd attempted to go after one of the organized crime rings.Â
Angel pouted at that, âCome on, youâve known me for ages! You think Iâd set you up just for the money?âÂ
They both looked at him with the most unimpressed face they could individually pull. Charlie was the first to let up and laughed as she waited for the entryway to clear.Â
A man smoking against the wall gave Charlie a second glance, confused but with a look of vague recognition crossing his features. He opened his mouth, likely to ask if theyâd met before, only to be cut off by the tall mafioso whose eyes felt like daggers going into his skin.Â
The man quickly turned away and Angel seemed to do a one-eighty, once again smiling at his friends as they were finally able to push open the doors.Â
âWelcome to the Lodge! Itâs been open for a few years but they added a few ah features that made it more popular over the last couple months.âÂ
Charlieâs eyes seemed to glimmer as she took in the large space, absentmindedly taking off her coat and hanging it to the side. The Lodge was absolutely luxurious, from the wallpaper to the nearly reflective wood flooring. The band was booming, but not loud enough to drown out the laughter and chatter that was a testament to the hallâs popularity. Â
âOh my - â Charlie was practically hopping in place, excitement practically vibrating off of her.Â
âHey! Careful, lets not get separated, okay?â Vaggie, being the voice of reason and caution, was quick to hook elbows with Charlie, the only thing that had kept the girl from shooting off into the crowd.Â
âAw, come on, thereâs a ton of people here! Not to mention the bulls in literally every corner.â Angel discreetly let his eyes wander around the room as he leaned against a pillar.Â
If anyone were to pay close attention, they would notice the men in unremarkable suits lingering near the bar and every little hideyhole you could think of. It made Charlie shift, unsure of how to feel about the knowledge and and slightly concerned. If any of them were in her fatherâs pockets she was so dead. She ducked her head at the thought, almost attempting to hide via Vaggie despite their height difference.Â
âSpeaking of the âbullsâ, should we be concerned,â Vaggie questioned. âIâd rather not get arrested or hauled away in a cab tonight.âÂ
âDonât worry about it! Theyâre the reason the club gets to keep their juice.â Angel was quick to get distracted by a handsome fellow on the other side of the club. âI hate to cut this gaggle short, but I got some tail to catch, if you get my drift. See ya ladies later!â And with that he was off in the other direction.Â
Vaggie was thoroughly unimpressed and neither of them looked surprised. Charlie couldnât help but shake her head. It was a common trick he pulled after theyâd all been to a few places; always looking for a guy to end the night with. Charlie admired his boldness; however, couldnât imagine herself dating so many men, much less having sex with them.Â
And it wasnât like she was there for any of that nonsense to begin with. She was there to dance.
âCome on, Vaggie!âÂ
The look of sheer panic on her friends face was telling, but it didnât stop Charlie from dragging her to the packed dance floor. Charlie knew that her dancing was a bit intense for her friendâs (most people, really) liking, which is why she usually ended up dancing solo, but it didnât mean that she couldnât make them try for a while before they wore out.Â
Charlie tapped her slight heels to the dance floor, tuning into the beat and began shimmying sideways until her hip bumped Vaggieâs. Her glittering smile almost effortlessly brought her friend out of the doom and gloom the thought of dancing with Charlie had put Vaggie in. There was some exasperation, but it was mostly fond. Charlie would take what she got. Â
Giggling, she did a small spin. Her feet followed the basic steps of the Charleston to warm up, surprisingly considerate of her reluctant dance partner. Charlie gave Vaggie a mischievous smile that Vaggie had come to know as the turning of the tide against her favor.Â
Heart pounding already as Charlie began to speed up, smiling so wide that her face was beginning to hurt: one foot to the side, back and forward. The music seemed louder like this, as if it had drowned out everything else: from the slight static of the stereo someone seemed to be playing in the background to the dancers who seemed to have begun to back away.Â
So engrossed in her own movements, she didnât notice when Vaggie tapped out, unwilling to try and compete with her. And even had she been paying attention, she wouldnât have noticed that she had caught someoneâs eye in a unique way.Â
A man, who had taken the invitation for a night on the town by a fellow colleague and had been regretting it deeply, was watching her with the hungriest gaze anyone on that side of New Orleans had ever seen. A tall man with slicked back dark brown hair in a fairly tailored pinstripe suit with a burgundy tie to match similarly colored dress pants. His eyes looked nearly red in a certain light, pulling the look together flawlessly.Â
A few years ago, no one would have noticed him, but these days he was too public for at least a few people to recognize the voice of the Alistair Trahan.Â
He watched as she pulled up her dress every now and then to perform a kick or jump. His grin grew in glee as she practically leaped across the dance floor, feigning falling a few times only to skip and tap away unscathed. The grace in her movements was uncanny.Â
She teetered in between stages of nearly falling and stability so often, he wondered how she hadnât become dizzy from the whiplash. Perhaps it was the danger that bid her to prefer the dance style (or maybe she just enjoyed it).Â
Her energy was something he had rarely seen before. What made it even more energizing was how she never stopped smiling no matter how her dress clung from the sweat that must have been pouring off her in waves or how those heels must have been a pain to dance in.Â
She caught his gaze for a split second and those eyes. Dark and piercing as they were compared to his own dreadful gaze. He imagined what it would be like to have those eyes on him and only him.Â
He raised a hand to his face, surprising himself when he noticed how flushed he was. He was brought back to reality when he noticed that the band had stopped playing. She was practically glowing as she panted, looking victorious in her stance (and a part of him imagined it as a form of armor, and he wondered what she would look like bound in steel).Â
It would be a pleasure to pull apart that cheerful manner and see what was underneath it; see if she was just as golden inside as she was out.Â
His mood dimmed slightly (though his smile didnât show it) when he noticed that another woman had tucked herself into the personified sunshineâs side.Â
It seemed there were obstacles that needed to be removed.
#origin#charlastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin charlie#hazbin alastor#20sAU#its a little different from the au not much though#hazbin fic#1920sAU
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Title: Fire Meet Gasoline
Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia
Rating: T+
Part: 3/?
Story Summary: A chance encounter between a villain and vigilante leads to an unwise deal made between unlikely allies; an unwise deal made between unlikely allies ends in a final stand neither would have ever dared to take on alone. Together, though, they just might have a fighting chance.
Part 3 Summary: Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, and thrice is just a big headache for everyone involved.
Part 1 on  Tumblr / AO3
Part 2 on Tumblr / AO3
Part 3 on AO3
Hizashi gave the IT intern a tight but friendly smile as she waved to him before going to check on the status of the server migration. He hated having to do delicate research like this at work; every time one of his coworkers needed something in the room he shared with the server banks he couldnât help jumping to attention, his hand poised on the lid of his laptop to snap it shut if they wandered too close. The cover it provided him was mostly worth the anxiety, however. A single IP using a VPN in the middle of an apartment block full of unsecured cable company wifi signals was suspicious; another VPN added to the tangle of secure signals emanating from a tech-heavy operation like a radio station was just another Tuesday. Hizashi waited for the intern to finish her checks before going back to what heâd been looking at before he was interrupted.
As far as he was able to find in the HR filings for Solo-Falcon Deliveries they only had one employee named Aizawa, first name Shouta. The photo that accompanied the digitized CV was younger-looking but the man was recognizable nonetheless; same perpetual look of knowing what a hairbrush was in concept but no evidence of him owning one, same dour, âare we done yet?â expression in his dark eyes. Said CV was as barebones as Hizashi had ever seen: eight years at Solo-Falcon Deliveries preceded by a plethora of short term post-middle school jobs; school transcripts from a dozen different private tutors that came to a sudden stop at the end of middle school. His permanent residence had been the same for as long as Aizawa had been working, cosigned by an adult family member with the stipulation that the lease would pass to Aizawa when he turned eighteen. As far as Hizashi could tell Shouta Aizawa had popped out of nothingness as a poe-faced fifteen-year-old looking for a job.
Trying to get any answers out of social media was equally fruitless. Retracing Aizawaâs online steps revealed a ghost town of abandoned accounts in his wake, all following the same pattern of non-use. He would sign up for a new platform, friend or follow one or two other accounts, make half a dozen posts over the course of about a year, then drop it completely without bothering to deactivate or delete. The posts were all the kind of non-entities one could expect out of someone who wasnât expecting to stick around for very long. Even on the accounts heâd used the most they mostly consisted of inoffensive comments about the weather or work and slightly blurry cell phone pictures of cats.
Even the government seemed to have no luck in catching ahold of Aizawa longer than the time it took to confirm his address, collect his taxes, and send him back on his way. According to his Quirk registration, Aizawa had been something of an early bloomer, developing his nullification power before he even hit kindergarten and being switched from public schooling to private education soon afterwards for reasons of âhealth concernsâ. Elementary and middle school records matched the near-yearly swapping of home tutors from his CV, but Hizashi noticed with interest that there was one massive omission between the two. Several records back in the Quirk registryâs access history was a request from the registrar of UA High School to confirm Aizawaâs personal and Quirk information. Raising an eyebrow Hizashi flipped back to Aizawaâs schooling history and found a perfunctory footnote at the bottom of the file: UA High School registration Apr 2004-Nov 2004; file sealed per subject request. Nothing else was said, just that short âby the wayâ on a digital post-it note before going on to document the work history and financial filings Hizashi already knew about.
Either Aizawa was some kind of subterfuge wunderkind or he really was just this disconnected. Hizashi sighed and leaned back in his chair, turning that over in his mind. A sealed UA record was as tantalizing a morsel of intrigue as you could ask for, but he wasnât arrogant enough to think he could go up against a security system as ironclad as theirs with nothing but a masked IP and an undeniable curiosity. There were favors he could call in, Hizashi supposed, people he could ask. Said people would want something equally backbreaking in return as insurance on their investments but that could be relegated to a date far in the future where he had the information in hand and could gauge its actual worth for himself.
Before he had time to start flipping through his mental address book, however, he was interrupted by a buzzing from his cell phone. The display showed an unlisted number being forwarded through his âbusiness lineâ, a landline heâd had installed in a condemned fast food restaurant on the far edge of the city. Hizashi glanced at his door to make sure it was fully shut before swiping to accept the call.
âMmn,â he muttered by way of greeting. There was a click, and an automated voice on the other end began to speak in choppy, text-to-speech sentences.
âBird. Seguchi. Your backdoor into the Hero Registry failed.â Hizashi rolled his eyes. Of course he was the problem, it couldnât possibly be that Seguchi's client was incompetant. âYou owe me a workable solution, do it right this time. Meet tonight at nine sharp, no later. Directions to follow.â The message barked out the address and Hizashi scribbled it disinterestedly onto the back of an envelope. It looked like his pet project would have to take a backseat for something more pressing but way less interesting, he thought with a disappointed sigh.
Biting back a curse, Shouta stared daggers at the bland error box telling him he didnât have the proper access clearance for the files he needed. Heâd spent most of the morning trying to fake the new set of credentials the police database was requiring to view the updated version of the Mockingbird dossier. The security had never been what you could call lax, but the newest version required both the highest clearance level Shouta had ever seen as well as a password that from what heâd been able to glean was just a long randomly-generated string of characters that maxed out the number of available spaces. He gritted his teeth and decided the building headache at the back of his skull was telling him he needed to switch to something a little less frustrating, though such things felt thin on the ground at the moment.
Trying to reconcile the comings and goings of Hizashi Yamada with the known Mockingbird incidents was proving to be an exercise in futility. Yamada didnât necessarily have an alibi for every time Mockingbird had been sighted in the act, but there was also no real reason for anyone to suspect him of needing one. Mockingbird was a serial offender with a list of potential charges that took up several single-spaced pages in his police file; Hizashi Yamada was the well-known and well-loved operations manager and late night host for a radio station that while not the biggest or wealthiest was far from needing any kind of criminal boost. The only link between the two was Yamadaâs oft-abused Quirk, but even that information was a double-edged sword at best. The police had been smart enough to keep the press away from the more sensitive details of the Mockingbird case to avoid copycats and false reports but no one knowing the connection was possible left Shouta shouting into the void. If he went as a civilian witness to the police, he would have to think of a very good lie for how he knew Mockingbirdâs M.O. but hadnât gone to them before now; if he went to them as an admitted vigilante, they might take his report more seriously but heâd end up in handcuffs right next to Yamada. As with most things heâd have to go into this on his own, something that would be a much simpler undertaking if he wasnât being actively locked out of the information he needed to do so.
âComputer trouble?â a voice above him asked. Shouta jumped, causing the large ginger cat in his lap to grumble and dig its claws into his thighs in retaliation. He gave the cat an apologetic pat on the head and looked up to see one of the cat cafeâs servers standing next to his table.
âUh, no. Itâs just old. Doesnât like to load,â Shouta lied, swapping screens as casually as he could. The server nodded with a sympathetic smile.
âI getcha,â she said. âItâs such a pain when they still work but theyâre too old to really do the work. Our whole register system is older than I am but we canât get the old workhorse to give up the ghost and let us replace her.â She chuckled, shrugging. âDid you want a refill on that coffee?â she added, pointing to Shoutaâs half-full cup that had gone cold long ago.
âSure, thanks. One sugar, no milk,â Shouta said. He scratched the cat in his lap behind the ears until the server was safely back behind the counter putting his order in before switching back to his other window.
The page had blacked out, the error message now telling him that his session had expired and would not be renewed. He tried closing his browser and restarting it, but the window instantly dimmed and let him know that his session was well and truly dead for today. Shouta wondered if this was a new protocol being rolled out across the board or if he wasnât the only one they were having to lock out. If the same gap in the digital fence was being used by someone with less scrupulous intents, Shouta supposed he couldnât entirely begrudge the police for fixing the fault and adding a less easily manipulated system. Trying to channel his frustration into a more helpful direction, Shouta opened the spreadsheet heâd been using to build a Mockingbird timeline and added what scraps of new information heâd been able to screenshot. He highlighted the long periods of silence and typed each time period and Yamadaâs name into individual browser tabs.
Hizashi Yamada was as easy to track as Mockingbird was impossible to pin down. Yamada put a lot of effort into propagating his breezy, unbothered persona, but seemed to put just as much into being a diligent employee; the gaps Shouta had found in Mockingbirdâs movements didnât generate so much as a sick day for Yamada. Shouta supposed if you werenât actively looking for irregularities the lack of them wouldnât have sparked interest, but to him it was both unnatural and damning. There had to be a weak spot somewhere, Shouta thought. Absurdly careful was one thing, but perfect was something else entirely. He had a suspicion that there was information in the locked sections of Mockingbirdâs dossier that would mean nothing to the police without knowing Yamadaâs civilian movements but would be the key to getting the upper hand on him for Shouta. But getting in there for a better look around would take time, and with his afternoon delivery shift fast approaching time was not something he had in excess. Another day with better luck, Shouta thought, saving what little progress heâd made and shutting his laptop.
Hebiko, Seguchiâs second in command and high-ranking candidate for Hizashiâs least favorite person on the planet, was waiting for him under the awning of the burned-out corner shop they were supposed to meet at. Hizashi groaned internally at the sight of her, fighting the urge to turn on his heel and cut his losses. Instead he raised a hand in greeting.
âNice weather for it,â he said.
Hebiko fixed him with an unblinking stare and an emotionless smile. âItâs been a while, Bird,â she said, extending a hand to him like she expected him to shake it. Vivid memories of falling for the ploy and being subjected to the tetanus-like paralysis of her Snakebite Quirk the first time theyâd met made Hizashiâs hands reflexively clench into fists. He meaningfully tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and looked around.
âIs your boss planning on joining us, or did he decide the B-team could handle this one on their own?â he asked.
âHe had a more important appointment to keep,â Hebiko replied. Her smile widened without gaining so much as a scrap of good will. Hizashi was tempted to point out that Seguchi had thought this was important enough to call him out in the middle of a weekday evening, but his desire to get this over with before all of the good takeout places closed won out.
âHis prerogative,â Hizashi said instead, shrugging. âShall we, then?â
âAfter you,â Hebiko said, gesturing down the narrow alley between this building and the next. âWeâre parked a street up from here,â Hebiko added when Hizashi didnât move. âItâll be easier to just cut through here.â
Hizashi scraped together the waning scraps of his patience, reminding himself that there was a takeaway curry and a quiet night at home with his cat on the other end of this nonsense, and headed up the alley where she was pointing.
âGood work today!â Shoutaâs manager called over his shoulder as he left the employee changing room. Shoutaâs two remaining coworkers called it back to him over the clang of closing lockers. Shouta muttered a vague reply a little too late, his mind already turning to what he had planned for after work.
With a last-minute change in the schedule he had somehow escaped an early shift tomorrow morning after tonightâs late shift, which meant he had until tomorrow afternoon to sleep and eat and all of the other things he usually had to cram into the few hours between clocking out and clocking back in. His heart ached to get out and stretch his legs on a long patrol, missing the routine in the wake of his recent garbage schedule. His head knew better, though. The late hour would mean fewer personnel working at police central intelligence, which would mean fewer eyes on what files were being accessed and by whom, and his newly-opened timetable would mean plenty of time to figure out what he was supposed to do about the lock on the Mockingbird dossier.
Shouta threw his bag over his shoulders, bidding his coworkers a hasty good night and walking quickly out the door before anything had time to interrupt his plans for the evening.
Hebiko followed at a distance that felt both too close and uncomfortably distant, her footsteps almost purposefully off-beat from his own. Hizashi opened his mouth to invite her to stop being such a stalker and just walk next to him, but instead found himself being slammed sideways into the alley wall by something that exploded out of a garbage bag next to a nearby dumpster. Hizashi staggered, breath catching short and sharp in his throat from the hit. Hebikoâs foot shot out from behind him, dead-legging him into an awkward half-crouch on the pavement. Hizashi looked up to see Takeshiro, one of Hebikoâs favorite minions, hopping out of the dumpster. The garbage bag that had assaulted him rustled and squirmed as a thick tangle of dessicated vegetable cuttings slithered out and stood ready by Takeshiroâs side. Hizashi choked back a gag at the smell of it, working to keep his face unconcerned.
âI feel like you might have taken that B-team comment from earlier a little too personally,â he said, the words coming out in a pained wheeze. For the first time Hebikoâs smile held actual mirth and Hizashi deeply regretted the development.
âYouâve been pissing a lot of people off lately, Bird,â Hebiko said.
âIncluding your boss, apparently,â Hizashi agreed. He pivoted on his toes and tried to keep his eyes on both of them as he straightened up. âHe must be pretty irritated to send his pets to do his wet work without coming along to gloat.â
Takeshiroâs plant weapon struck out at him again, sending Hizashi skittering sideways to avoid it. Hizashi gritted his teeth. Hebiko and Takeshiro were each blocking an open end of the alley, closing ranks around him along with Takeshiroâs plant. The only other potential exit he had was a fire escape above the dumpster Takeshiro had crawled out of. If he could keep them distracted long enough to dart through and scramble up the escape there was a chance he could make it out of this in one fresh-scented fully mobile piece. He thought of the extendable police baton hidden in the holster sewn into the back of his jacket but decided it was better to keep it as a last resort. There was no point in escalating a situation already at the snapping point if he could find another way out of it.
âThe boss doesnât know youâre here,â Hebiko said coolly. âThe cops caught him trying to get through the Hero Registryâs security net last week using the instructions he got from you. Heâs been in custody ever since.â
âSounds like user error to me,â Hizashi replied, âsince the information wasnât for him in the first place. Does he go through other peopleâs mail too?â
âThatâs really cute coming from someone who makes a living out of digging in digital garbage looking for things to sell,â Hebiko snapped.
âOoh, really hitting me where it hurts,â Hizashi said. He put on the biggest, fakest grin he could muster, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense. Hebikoâs eyes narrowed, her hands flexing at her sides like she was trying to resist the urge to throttle him. Takeshiroâs plant weapon was starting to twitch and writhe at Takeshiroâs side, belying the manâs outward straightfaced patience. His strategy was panning out for the moment, and hopefully a moment was all he would need.
âWeâre about to find a few more places for it to hurt,â Hebiko said, lips curling back from her teeth in a cold smirk.
âThanks but no thanks.â
Seizing his chance, Hizashi caught Hebiko hard in the jaw with a surprise right hook. She stumbled back a step before coming towards him with an open-palmed strike of her own, ready to freeze him where he stood. Hizashi managed to avoid it just in time, hooking his foot around the back of her knee and sweeping it out from under her. He felt a hand grab him by the back of the jacket and yank him back several steps, nearly taking him off his feet as well. Hizashi twisted sharply towards Takeshiro, forcing the man to loosen his grip just long enough for Hizashi to duck away. He made it all the way up onto the lip of the dumpster and felt his fingers brush the ladder to the fire escape before something grabbed him around the waist and pulled him hard down onto hands and knees on the pavement. Hizashi yelped as pain crackled through his shins and forearms. Before he had time to recover he felt a hand snatch his sweatshirtâs hood off of his head, followed by Hebikoâs sharp fingers digging into the back of his neck. Instantly his body went rigid, joints locking painfully together against his will.
âThis is why I hate birds,â Hebiko said, her voice mockingly conversational in Hizashiâs ear. âWhenever things get a little intense, they try to flit away before you get to have any fun with them.â
Without any warning Hebiko grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head forward, slamming it with all her strength into the steel side of the dumpster. Hizashi went limp, the fading paralysis replaced by a dazed ringing in his ears and an unstrung feeling throughout his limbs. He struggled to keep himself awake as black static overtook his vision. Distantly Hizashi could feel hands turning him over and working to pick him up. He heard a second metallic clang, followed by Hebiko snapping something to Takeshiro at the far end of the sludge his brain was sinking into. Before he could make any sense out of any of it, heâd drifted too deep and everything was dark buzzing silence in his head.
Shouta had been trying his best to keep his head down and his eyes on the goal of getting home, but the instant heâd seen the two of them he knew there was going to be trouble. The street was mostly empty and the few people who were out were in motion, leaving jobs or late-night restaurants and heading to wherever they were going after that. The two under the awning, however, were just standing there, carefully keeping to the little bit of shadow the scraps of ripped canvas still cast over the sidewalk. Shouta slowed, pulling his hood up to make it slightly less obvious that he was watching them. One of the figures was tall and skinny with a sharp silhouette, the other at least a foot shorter with unnaturally stiff posture. They talked for a moment before the shorter one waved the taller into the nearby alleyway. Shoutaâs eyes narrowed. Never a good sign. He unsnapped the pocket heâd sewn into the shoulder strap of his bag, pulling out one of the bolases heâd stowed there for emergencies. Tucking it tightly into his palm he approached the mouth of the alley. A quick check of the sidewalk confirmed no one else seemed to have noticed him or the two he was following, so Shouta edged up on the corner of the building and peered down the alley.
A third, stockier figured had joined the group from somewhere in the time it took him to approach; they and the short one had closed ranks around the tall one to prevent any potential escape. Shouta dropped into a crouch as he rounded the corner, scuffing his feet over the ground to keep his steps quiet. The group was too far away for Shouta to tell what they were saying, but the conversation seemed to turn sour very quickly. Shouta only managed a few steps towards them before whatever was said triggered a short, dirty fight and the attempt at a quick exit by the tall one via a nearby fire escape. Something fast and tentacle-like caught them around the waist before they made it and dragged them back down. A moment later the short one had them by the back of them neck and slammed them head-first into the side of the dumpster with a sickening clang of skull on metal that echoed out in the otherwise muted night. The tall figure lolled sidewise, dropping senseless onto the ground and for a moment Shouta thought the other two were just going to leave them there. Worse plans were being made, it seemed, as instead the two still standing worked together to roll the unconscious third over and the stocky one made to throw them over their shoulder.
As quickly as he could, Shouta spun the bolas in his hand and threw it at the stocky figure as they bent over. Just shy of wrapping around them, however, the tentacle thing reared up again and slapped the bolas aside. It wrapped uselessly around the bottom of the fire escape ladder with a metallic snap and both of the standing figures turned to see Shouta where he had broken his cover. He pulled another spare bolas out and started it spinning as he rushed them.
âForget it, get to the car!â the shorter figure commanded the stocky one as they made a move to grab the unconscious figure again. Sprinting away, they made a cursory attempt at tripping Shouta with the tentacle thing, but the swipe swung wide and the tentacle melted into a glob of rotting vegetables as he darted past. The second bolas flew straight, but the two of them had a big enough head start on their side that it dropped and skidded along the ground at their heels without making contact. They had already ducked into a nondescript black sedan and were pulling into traffic by the time Shouta reached the other end of the alley. Shouta pulled his phone out of his pocket and just managed to get a photo of the back of their car. He realized too late that the car didnât have any plates. Muttering a sharp curse under his breath, Shouta turned and walked back to where they had abandoned the body.
A cold, dawning recognition began to spread in the pit of his stomach as he approached. The figure lay face-down on the concrete where it had been dropped, a spill of long blond hair falling over the collar of a familiar feathered leather jacket. Gently turning the body over confirmed his worst suspicion. Mockingbirdâs mask now sported a jagged crack along the top and was streaked with blood from where it had cut into his forehead when his head slammed into the dumpster. Under the blood he looked unpleasantly pale in the dim alley light. His eyelids flickered and he let out a small moaning breath as Shouta put two fingers to his neck to confirm there was a pulse. Not dead, Shouta confirmed with a tight grimace, just knocked out.
Shouta sat back on his heels, brain speeding off in opposite directions at the same time. He knew he was duty-bound to find the nearest patrolling officer or hero and turn Mockingbird in; it was the only good ending for the situation, even if his accomplices had managed to get away. Then again, those âaccomplicesâ had knocked Mockingbird out and for all intents and purposes left him for dead. Whatever had gone south between them, Mockingbird had ended up a victim of it in the end. It seemed unfair somehow for him to get turned over to law enforcement when what he needed was help, like adding insult to injury. A police siren rang out on the street Shouta had followed Mockingbird and the others off of, making Shouta jump. He didnât have time to debate it. Before better instincts could kick in, he shuffled off his bag and opened the farthest-back compression pocket.
âSorry about this,â Shouta muttered. Working quickly, he stripped off Mockingbirdâs mask and jacket, stuffing them into his bag. Mockingbird was wearing a piece of homemade gear around his neck, partially hidden by the neckline of his hoodie. It looked like a series of spare audio parts wired into a tight collar; long wires stretched down under his sleeves to controls strapped to the palms of his hands under his gloves. The sirens were getting uncomfortably close as Shouta tried to find a way to get it off of him. Finally he just took each side of a join in one hand and yanked, pulling all of the wires free and and shoving the whole contraption in his bag as well. He managed to get everything strapped flat and his bag back over his shoulders as blue and red lights announced the approach of the police. Taking a deep breath and turning his gut-level panic into an expression of concern, Shouta half-jogged out of the alley to meet them.
âHey! Hey over here, I think he needs help!â Shouta shouted, waving his arms to flag the car down.
The next hour was a hazy blur of trying to keep his story straight for every cop he had to repeat it to, from the scene to the ambulance to a private conference room at the hospital. He had been on his way home from work, he said in increasing tones of weariness, and he heard what he thought was a fight in the alley as he passed by. He tried to step in after the muggers threw Yamada against the dumpster, but they ran off before he could get a good look at them. No, he didnât really know Yamada, he just recognized him from a delivery heâd made. No, he wasnât the one who made the initial call to the police, he had been trying to check if Yamada was dead or just unconscious. No, he didnât have any additional information, he had honestly just been in the right place at the right time. Each time the police seemed to get a little less interested in him, turning their attention to questioning Yamada when the doctors were done running tests. Finally they thanked him for his time and Shouta was allowed to sit by himself in the waiting room and catch his breath.
Every single part of him felt like it was trying to fistfight every other part, but his head was winning the pain battle by a longshot. Hizashi opened his eyes and immediately shut them again with a sharp grunt of pain as white fluorescent lights burned into his skull. He tried again more slowly, squinting his eyes open in slow shifts to let them adjust. A hospital room came into focus bit by bit.. His jacket and gear were gone and his feet were bare. He could see a doctor and nurse standing a few feet away, talking to a uniformed officer. All of them seemed relatively relaxed, considering where they were. There was an uneasy feeling of Wrongness about the situation, but before he had time to dwell on it, the three of them noticed he was awake and came to stand around his bed.
ââM I under arrest?â Hizashi mumbled. It wasnât the best opener, but putting thoughts into words and having them stay in the right order was proving to be a challenge right now.
âNothing so drastic, Mr. Yamada,â the doctor said, smiling at the perceived joke. âOfficer Fujiwara is just here to take a statement about what happened to you tonight after we run a few tests to make sure everythingâs shipshape up here,â she added, tapping her own temple with an index finger.
âOkay,â Hizashi said slowly. The time delay between ears and brain was slowly shortening, but somehow that wasnât helping things make sense. He wasnât being detained (yet), and theyâd called him Yamada, which seemed to imply better things than he had expected. How that better outcome had happened was still up for debate but he was more than willing to let it ride for the moment.
The doctor introduced herself as Dr. Watanabe before going through the usual battery of post-concussion memory and comprehension tests that a childhood spent roughhousing with four siblings had turned into second nature for Hizashi. Slowly but surely as they spoke Hizashiâs brain clicked up through the gears until he was mostly running on all cylinders. He kept the conversation going as they wheeled him out of the room for a quick brain scan and then back in once it was done. Too soon, however, came the moment when he had to explain himself to the police.
âI understand things may be a little bit confused at the moment,â Officer Fujiwara began, cutting off Hizashiâs excuse before he could even make it. âWe can fill in the more minor details at a later date as they come back to you. For right now, just tell me what you remember.â
Hizashi hesitated, trying to come up with a story that was both plausible and matched enough of the details that it wouldnât come back to bite him later. âUh. I was out walking,â he started, trying to get his feet under himself as he spoke. âThereâs a takeout place I like, but itâs on the other side of town from my apartment so I donât go there much unless Iâm working late.â
âUnderstandable. Where is it that you work, Mr. Yamada?â Officer Fujiwara asked.
âAsahi Radio. I manage operations and fill in when our hosts are out. I had some paperwork to finish up, so I stayed late tonight.â Nice, neat, normal little life, Hizashi thought, willing her to buy the excuse. Officer Fujiwara made no indication that she did or didnât believe it. Instead she just nodded and scribbled down shorthand on her notepad, motioning for him to go on. âI was trying to get home before it got too late, so I took a shortcut to the restaurant, butâŠâ Hizashi trailed off, stiffly shaking his head. âI donât know. It gets kind of jumbled after that.â
âI see. Do you remember seeing or hearing anything out of the ordinary while you were walking? Anyone suspicious, anyone seeming like they were following you?â Officer Fujiwara asked. Hizashi shook his head.
âNo, but I wasnât really looking I guess. Too distracted by my stomach,â Hizashi replied, cracking a smile at his own joke. Officer Fujiwara gave him a thin smile.
âAnything else you can remember?â she asked. Hizashi pretended to think. Trying to remember things in the order that they had happened after Hebiko had hit him with her Snakebite was genuinely difficult and added a touch of realism to his stymied expression.
âSorry, no,â he said.
âNot a problem, Mr. Yamada. Hereâs my card, and one for my immediate superior,â Officer Fujiwara said, handing him a pair of business cards. âIf anything comes to mind later, please feel free to give us a call and let us know.â
Hizashi thanked her and accepted the cards, giving her his number at the station in return in case they needed to call him back instead. Officer Fujiwara bid him a good evening and left. Hizashi allowed himself to breathe a long sigh of relief as Dr. Watanabe returned.
âWell, the good news is your scans came back looking clear as can be hoped for,â she said brightly. âWe can go ahead and keep you overnight for observation if you would like, but you should be all right to go ahead home if youâd rather do that. I believe your friendâs still out in the waiting room if the two of you need to talk it over.â
A cold jolt sank into the pit of Hizashiâs stomach, but he tried to keep it off his face. âUh, yeah,â he agreed. âThat might be best.â
Dr. Watanabe nodded and left to go get said âfriendâ. Hizashi sat up, sliding his legs over to sit on the side of the bed. He wasnât really feeling up to running for his life after the rest of what happened tonight, but if Hebiko had followed him all the way to the hospital it seemed like he wasnât going to have much choice. Maybe the cops would still be down in the lobby when he got there and he could have a miraculous return of memory that the stringy, suspicious-looking woman who had said she was here to get him was actually here to get him.
The frantic train of thought had a massive derail, however, as Dr. Watanabe returned to the room with a tall, shuffling figure in tow. Hizashi blinked, sure he had to be seeing things as Aizawa awkwardly nodded in greeting.
âHey,â Aizawa muttered. âErm. Howâre you feeling?â
âA little confused,â Hizashi said. He tried to raise his eyebrow, but relented when the motion pulled too hard at the stitches in his forehead. âBut, uh. Okay, I guess. Are you my escort home?â
Aizawa gave him a slightly sour look at the question but nodded. âI guess so,â he said.
In a renewed haze of bewilderment Hizashi reclaimed what of his belongings hadnât been thrown out as a biohazard and signed himself out of the hospital while Aizawa called them a taxi. A very stiff, silent cab ride followed, neither of them knowing how to break the silence without making this worse than it already was.
âHowâd you know where I was?â Hizashi asked finally, eyes locked forward out the front windshield of the taxi. âDecide to follow me?â
âNo,â Aizawa replied flatly. âJust bad luck I guess.â
âYours or mine?â
âBoth.â
Hizashi snorted. âFor once we agree on something,â he said.
The cab pulled to a stop in front of Hizashiâs building and his door creaked open to let him out. Aizawa cleared his throat as Hizashi shambled up off the seat.
âDo you...want me to come with you?â Aizawa asked, with a note in his voice that sounded like genuine concern. Hizashi paused, amused in spite of himself.
âNot even a little bit,â Hizashi replied with a cheerful, insincere smile. He shut the door and waited until the cab had pulled back into traffic and rounded the corner before going inside.
#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#aizawa shouta#yamada hizashi#villain!mic#vigilante!aizawa#hizashi yamada#shouta aizawa#Fire Meet Gasoline AU#Quinny thinks she's a writer
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Weekend Debrief : Adventures With Professor Fairy God Boyfriend
This will be long, bear with meâŠ
When P left us, many felt a GREAT loss, whether you were lifelong fam, someone who lost him along the way, or someone who joined up after he moved on, the depth of feeling, regret, and loss has been profound for many. Many turned to the internet, burying themselves in all his music, videos, interviews, concert footageâŠbuying all kinds of merch, joining groups on Facebook, attending meetups and tributes, digging out old records and collectibles, putting it all on display, collecting every picture you can findâŠ.itâs beenâŠintense!
So many people trying find a way to fill this Prince shaped hole in our hearts, a goal that seems a bit futileâŠbecause how would that ever be possible?
Why is there such a pull to him, why has it been this long and many of us are still as insatiable to have him around, in our ears, in our homes? Why are we so defensive and protective of his legacy? Why are people so devastated? Why are we POSSESSED?
For me I have kind of turned the P consumption into a P creation focus. More than listening to his work, collecting vinyl, reading all the books, Iâve made it a point to share share shareâŠbut even still, there is a drive or a push to do that.
So in effort to get to the why, I started to exploreâŠwhat are these connections. Why do I feel so much for someone Iâve never met? What does Google sayâŠandâŠfound some things.
Iâd call myself spiritual more than religious. Totally believe we all have a higher purpose and when you âduck outâ it ainât ovaâŠyou just âgo back homeâ and hang out until itâs time to do something else. I also feel like there is a way to âcommunicateâ with loved ones who have ducked outâŠthem leaving signs, feelings, etc. I think itâs all within the realm of possibilities having had some things happen beforeâŠSo for funâŠwhy not see what that part of the internet has to say about P?
Came across some real side eye worthy stuffâŠlots of conspiracy theory, deification stuff, blah blahâŠ
Didnât resonate.
Just as I was about to be like K nope bye, I came across someone who âclaimedâ to talk to PâŠbut her vibe was not P as this god like person who had all the answers, but someone who had a human life who now has a wider perspective in spirit. The messages were not at all Prince centered like âhere are things I didâŠI am here to teach you the mysteries of life..or avenge meâ but more like âLife Coach from the other placeâ. All of her stuff from P was about finding your own power, stepping into your purpose, living your best life, and digging into what you are triggered by to address the actual problem and release it.
This resonated VERY much.
This weekend, this person held a retreat in Chanhassen where 13 people (all women this time by happenstance) gathered to explore those themes. I was the youngest at 32 with the oldest lady in her 70s. The breadth of diverse life experiences with the common threads of similar deeper challenges was an amazing duality to explore. It was amazing because the first thing brought forward by someone that we all agreed with was that the pull to P isnât really a pull to him at all, itâs a pull to YOU. Who YOU are and what is important to YOU. People are learning themselves through their connection to PâŠlearning to dig deeper and address parts of themselves that need attentionâŠheâs a catalyst to get in touch with your own soul and your own purpose here right now and that feels immediate and inspiring and makes you feel hungry to feed that urge. The digging for P is more a drive or desire to FEEEEEEL on a deep level, something we can learn to do without him, but something he is so good at helping us do.
The important thing though is to not lose yourself as that happens. Heâs not an avatar heâs an agitator for you to get off your butt and LIVE YOUR LIFE.
That is something I have consistently heard from fams this last year and a half. People are doing things they NEVER EVEN IMAGINED! People who had never flown or hadnât done so in decades, hopping on a plane to see The Park. People kicking relationships that didnât serve them to the curb when they decided they deserved better and to be happy, people reconnecting with loved ones they lost touch withâŠ.or reaching out and making new friends who share the common bond of P, people starting new creative projects, writing books and gaining confidence to do their own projects. Heâs facilitating all this self discovery and love and passionâŠstirring up a lot from the great beyond⊠Helping people find their own courage that they explore inside the purple echo chamber, but then encouraging them to use those skills they discover in their own lives outside of it...an experience much like the people who worked with him while he was here in person!
Itâs POWERFUL.
And REAL.
And INSPIRING!
This weekend was a really amazing experienceâŠlots of purging, self checks, and learning tools in how to manage yourself better, not even related to P! I truly truly love that though we were there because of him, in true P fashion, it was VERY much this, even in Fairy God Boyfriend form.
Donât make it about me. Itâs not me. Itâs YOU. Itâs about you all being here and sharing this experience together in this moment. Itâs about SUPPORTING and ENCOURAGING each other. Holding each other close in love. LOVE4ONEANOTHER. Love and acceptance of SELF. Lots of work to do, but work on YOU to live YOUR best life for YOURSELF, not for me.
Further resolved in doing this and helping others get that message. Spread the love of P, absolutely, but as just ONE way that others can be disrupted and make that pilgrimage to turn inward, take agency over their own lives, and DO something. Donât wait around and wallow in the past, use his energy, music, legacy to catapult yourself forward into being a more authentic version of YOU.
TODAY.
RIGHT NOW.
IN THIS MOMENT.
Again, âmaybe the hand that youâre looking for is at the end of your arm?â
#prince#lessons from the professor#outed myself as woo friendly here but i like to think i'm practical about it...
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Jenny Lewis Wants You to Try Her Wine
Los Angeles Magazine April 14, 2015
We spoke with the singer about becoming a winemaker, Coachella, and Lucille Ball
By Sonya Singh and Puneet Singh
Itâs late Saturday afternoon at a local Palm Springs mainstay, and Jenny Lewis, dressed in all white and chatting with a couple friends, is exactly where she wants to be. That is, until a video of her own performance on Jimmy Kimmel Live plays on the screens. âMake it stop,â she mouths with a smile.
A man puts colored leis around everyoneâs necks and she picks up a glass of wineïżœïżœher own wine, actually. Weâre here to celebrate the first taste of this batch of Voyager, a natural wine developed in collaboration with Domaine LA and La Clarine farm. The first Voyager wine was released last summer, alongside Lewisâs critically-acclaimed third solo album, The Voyager. A brilliant marketing tie-in, sure, but the wine happens to be an aptly Californian extension of Lewis herself.
We talked with the singer-songwriter about her many appearances at Coachella, finding contentedness with her career, and taking advice from Lucille Ball.
How does it feel to be playing Coachella on your own? Was the last time you were here with Rilo Kiley? No, it was on my own, actually. This is either my sixth or seventh time playing Coachella. Twice with Rilo Kiley, and this is the second time on my own. Once with the Postal Service, and once with Jenny and Johnny.
In all those years, whatâs been your oddest Coachella experience? I guess handling Arcade Fireâs balls. There were hundreds of balls, actually, and I ended up backstage with my friend Jenny Eliscu. They wouldnât let us back out into the crowd and they wouldnât let us side stage and it was right before they were unleashing these giant LED balloons. And so we ended up having to corral the balloons and throw them out into the crowd. So me, Jenny, and Ezra from Vampire Weekend somehow ended up together throwing these giant balls into the crowd. It was one of the coolest experiences of my life. I mean just being among that many balls, first of all (laughs).
The Voyager is an excellent album. It seems to be the one thatâs broken through. How has that changed things for you? Well, I feel like with all the records Iâve made, itâs just been little baby steps since 2001. Every record hopefully reaches one more person. It really is linked to the very beginning and it feels just like an extension of the first song I ever wrote. But itâs amazing to be able to play the songs six months after the record came out, because things happen so quickly now that Iâm lucky to have people pay attention beyond two weeks.
Do you look back at the material on your first solo album and feel like a different person? Iâve felt the same since I was three. Truly. But my first solo record was something that I never thought I could do on my own. I only did because my friend Conor Oberst was starting a label and he asked me to make a solo record. Iâd truly never considered making something outside the context of my band. So with this one, I was a fully formed artist on my own and I could make whatever I wanted to and it wasnât happenstance. It was like âthis is the record I want to make, this is who I wanted to make it with, and this is the story I want to tell.â
Growing up acting and transitioning to music, was it your goal to be in showbiz? How did your career path evolve? I come from a long line of working-class showbiz people. My grandparents did Vaudeville. My parents had a lounge act in Las Vegas. Itâs basically a way to not have a straight job. So I became an actor because someone needed to support my family when I was a little kid. Itâs just been a part of our family tradition.
When did you start writing songs? When I was 10, maybe?
So this is something you grew up with. You never thought, âIâm an actor, but Iâm going to try out music.â Itâs just a hustle, man. Iâm just on my hustle. And as an actor, youâre telling other peoplesâ stories; as a writer, youâre telling your own. Thatâs what I wanted to do. I wanted to tell my weird little slice and find a little space for it.
At your Apogee Session a while back for KCRW you mentioned Ryan Adams made you listen to Creed while making The Voyager. Have you ever figured out why? No! I donât understand [Ryanâs] methods. But I think it worked to get me out my own head so that I could record my own music. Youâd have to ask Ryan about that, but by the sixth song, it was so loud, it was blasting in the studio and I thought, âOh wow, I get this.â I mean, I get all music. Thereâs nothing that I donât really like, you know? If itâs real music, I like it. I like electronic music as well. If itâs coming from a couple of humans, Iâll listen to it no matter what it is.
Whatâs on the horizon? What do you want to do now? Drink wine. (laughs)
Fair enough. What about in your music? Iâm doing it. Iâm doing exactly what I want to do.
You and Johnathan Rice wrote all the music Johnny Flynn sings in the film Song One. What was it like writing for him? He has such a distinct voice. He was so, so great. Johnathan and I wrote the songs and then we gave them to Johnny to interpret, and he did a really wonderful job. He was very respectful but brought his own vibe to it, which we really, really loved. We just like writing songs. If I can write for myself or for someone else, Iâm totally down. I try to write every day.
Who would be your perfect main stage Coachella hologram to perform alongside? Lucille Ball. She was my mentor. I was on a show with her called Life with Lucy when I was a little kid. She played my grandmother. She was very tough on me but taught me a lot of important things. She was stern and she wanted me to focus and she taught me a lot of great lessons that I still carry with me.
Like what? âLearn your fucking lines, kid!â (laughs)
Who would be on your Coachella 2015 playlist? Iâm so bad at mixes. Itâs not my forte. Iâm more of an album person. I still listen to records.
What was the last full record you listened to? To Pimp a Butterfly, Kendrick Lamar. Also Courtney Barnett. I do like compilations. Iâve been listening to this Thai compilation. Itâs like â60s and â70s psychedelic Thai music called The Sound of Siam.
Whatâs the psychedelic scene in Thailand like? Itâs trippy, dude. Itâs all riffing on American music but with Thai instruments and Thai lyrics. Check it out: Sound of Siam. I heard it at Pok Pok in New York. I listen to weird ass shit for the most part.
#publication: los angeles magazine#album: the voyager#year: 2015#mention: rabbit fur coat#mention: family history#mention: song one#mention: songwriting#person: lucille ball#mention: music taste
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Kaze Niloth â First Journal Entry
Looking back, I suppose I was rather a precocious child. Entertainment was scarce within the halls of House Niloth, so Iâd often wile away my afternoons in the family reading room - poring through antiquarian encyclopedias and volumes of classical fiction.
But I recall in particular, amongst the fastidiously organised tomes, a collection of distressed leather-bound journals. Penned by long-dead ancestors, these memoirs were first-hand accounts of the lives of Nilothâs great men and women â spanning from my grandfatherâs generation through to the age of our familyâs most distant forbear.
Even at the time, I recognised my kind were hardly loquacious. So the opportunity to learn more about my lineage (without suffering thorough conversation) was one I was eager to pursue.
As I read, however, I came to realise that for each tantalizingly gruesome tale of adventure scrawled on blood-soaked pages, there were an equal number of less⊠inspirational accounts. It puzzled me how the latterâs authors might have such hubris as to judge their existences worthwhile, but in recent years, I have come to consider myself one of them.
For the longest time, I thought my life and I unremarkable, and far from worthy of immortalisation in the family library.
That is I suppose, until now.
It seems Belgin has taken an interest in me, and his humours have not gone unnoticed. After years of transient companionship and uneasy allegiances forged for the sake of coin, I find myself in the company of a truly noteworthy menagerie of freaks.
Its members consist of a half Orc with more biceps than brain cells, a Dragonborn rogue as ferocious as a common gecko, a Tiefling whose continued survival (in spite of painful naiveté) continues to perplex me, a bird-man with a penchant for narcotics, and a⊠captivating warrior princess whose beauty outshines Toska Herself.
Happenstance brought us together, and while ordinarily Iâd avoid such conspicuous company, each of these misfits serves a very tangible purpose. Call it a professional investment, but in the few days Iâve spent with this rabble, Iâve been thrust into more lucrative opportunities for coin than Iâve stumbled on in a year by myself. Plus, for reasons beyond my comprehension, they actually seem to trust me. In spite of everything theyâve seen so far and through no attempt to conceal my own nature, they trust me.
More fool them, I suppose.
Like the tools on my belt, theyâre expendable, and for as long as they facilitate the acquisition of coin for house Niloth, I will continue to make use of them. Of course like all tools, they will eventually falter and break. And when they do, I shall dispose of them.
The days in between now and then, however, will assuredly be worth recording â and perhaps I can contribute something to the library worth reading after allâŠ
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