#Everyone lives

[omgrachwrites]

The Night We Met (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader

Summary: Over the summer you connected with the boy who is quite literally your twin's mortal enemy. Things start to fall apart in the darkness of the autumn.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, everyone lives au, takes place in 6th year, James being the best dad ever

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long to come out! But thank you all so much for the support for this fic, I love you all! xxx

Chapter Two

The guilt you felt in your stomach was so unbearable that you ended up leaving the pub early, making excuses to your friends and ignoring Harry’s suspicious looks. It wasn’t until much later in the evening that your dad knocked on your door and when you let him in he sat himself on the edge of your bed.

“Y/N, what’s wrong darling?”

You looked at James with tears in your eyes, “dad,” you sniffled, “Mattheo is hurt and it’s all my fault.”

James sighed as he wrapped his arms around you, “it’s not your fault sweetheart. I know that he was here last night, you know, he could have stayed.”

You shook your head as tears fell down your cheeks, “I didn’t want to put him or anyone in any danger, I need to see if he’s okay.”

“I’ll take you.”

You scoffed at your dad’s words and took one look at his face and you realised that he was being deadly serious, he wasn’t joking, “are you insane?! What if he’s there?”

James shrugged, like the notion of his enemy wanting to kill him didn’t phase him at all, “then we’ll be careful, but I am not letting you go alone, not there.”

You let out a watery laugh as you swiped your hand over your eyes, “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too sweetie.”

You were driving through the lower part of the village when James spoke up, “wait, isn’t that him?”

Your eyes followed where your dad was pointing and you felt a jolt, your heart dropped and it wasn’t at the sight of Mattheo’s beautiful broken face, it was the sight of Pansy Parkinson’s hands all over him. You saw her smile as her fingers threaded through his hair and your heart was at the bottom of your stomach when you watched him smile back.

James made to get out of the car but you stopped him with a hand on his wrist, “dad, please don’t.”

James sighed as he glanced back at your face and pressed a kiss against your forehead, “should we just get some ice cream and go home?”

You shook your head, “I’d rather just go home actually, I’m sorry that I made you drive all the way out here for nothing, dad.”

James shook his head, “you didn’t make me do anything, sweetheart. I was happy to do it,” he glanced at Mattheo once more before biting his lip ad starting up the car again, “you know that he’s not good enough for you right?”

You smiled at your dad as he pulled the car away and you took one last look at Mattheo from the window.

When you were upset, James wanted to spend as much time with you as possible but you really just wanted to be alone. It took some convincing but James finally allowed you to take a walk by yourself to clear your head. You knew why he was so protective but it irritated you sometimes, of course you would never tell him that.

You blinked tears out of your eyes as you stared at the little stream that rushed through the clearing in the woods. A twig snapping made you jump and you instinctively clutched at your wand and drew it, ready to defend yourself if it came to that. You relaxed when he came into view, running a hand through his hair.

“Y/N,” Mattheo sighed as he came to sit next to you on the cool grass, “what are you doing here? It’s so late.”

You looked up at the brown eyes that regarded you with so much warmth, he certainly didn’t have his father’s eyes, that was for sure. They were so different to the cold eyes that beheld you at the start of summer.

“I’m so sorry,” you finally whispered, allowing your tears to fall.

Mattheo sighed as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head, you could smell cigarette smoke as you clutched at his shirt, “maybe it’s for the best, Y/N.”

You sniffled and pulled back to look at his handsome face, “what do you mean?”

Mattheo scoffed as he took his arm from your shoulders and turned away from you, “don’t play coy with me, it’s insulting. I know whatever is going on between us has an expiry date. I mean it’s obvious, you and your brother are the golden children of Hogwarts, the heroes, there can never be a place for me and you to be truly together. We need to face the facts, Y/N we’re no good. You’re destined to have a great long life and I’m destined for the Dark Arts.”

It hurt you to hear him speak like this, so blatant and cruel, “it doesn’t have to be that way between us.”

“Y/N,” he wiped your tears away with his thumbs, “it was always supposed to be this way, it was fun and it provided us with a good distraction. This was doomed from the start, Y/N.”

Your resolve crumbled as you stared into his eyes and you realised there was no point in fighting for him if he wasn’t going to fight for you, “maybe we shouldn’t have even started this Theo,” you sniffled and pulled away from him.

“Let me walk you back?” he offered.

“No,” you whispered, “no, I actually just want to be left alone.”

As soon as you walked through the front door, James was waiting for you, “it’s over,” you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, “I’m sorry for putting everyone in danger.”

James shook his head and pulled you into a hug, “you’ve got nothing to apologise for, I just want you to be happy.”

You forced a smile at your dad and kissed his cheek, “night, dad.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The last few days of summer went by in a blur and soon you were saying goodbye to your parents as you left for school. You knew that Harry was nervous about going back to Hogwarts after what had happened at the Ministry. You knew he would get through it though, he always did.

“Are you going to be trying out for the Quidditch team this year, Y/N?” Hermione grinned as she looked up at you from the book that she was reading.

You laughed and mockingly glanced over at your brother who was in deep conversation with Ron, “as long as my brother does the right thing and puts me on the team,” you laughed before shaking your head “I would never expect him to just put me on the team, I’m not too sure this year, I was thinking about trying out but maybe I’ll leave it,” you shrugged.

Hermione nodded with a smile before she regarded you with warm brown eyes, “have you been okay? It’s just recently, you’ve seemed a little sad and distracted.”

You bit your lip, Hermione was your best friend but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell her the full story, not yet anyway, you shrugged and gave her the cliff notes version, “I was seeing someone and it didn’t work out, we were just too different I guess.”

Hermione nodded and didn’t press further, instead she looked over at Harry who was beginning to rise from his seat, “Harry? Where are you going?”

“Um,” he mumbled as he looked at you with wide eyes and you had to hold a laugh in, it looked like he hadn’t bet on getting caught, “I’ve just got to check something,” he quickly stuffed something into his pocket and you narrowed your eyes. He left the compartment before anyone could question him further.

“What’s going on?” you asked Ron, “what is he hiding?”

Ron frowned as he looked over at you, “it’s nothing, you know that he’d never keep anything important from you.”

Did you know that? It seemed as though you weren’t the only one keeping secrets over the summer. By the time the train was pulling into Hogsmeade Station, Harry still wasn’t back and your friends had somehow convinced you to meet up with him back at the castle.

As you were walking up to the carriages that pulled themselves, you heard a voice call out to you, “oi, Potter! Where’s your loony brother?”

You whirled around and found yourself face to face with Mattheo, there was a sly sneer on his face and his eyes were hard and cold, “fuck you, Riddle.” He was going to play this game? Fine. “What the fuck is your problem?” you snarled beneath your breath so the others wouldn’t hear you.

“I- “his eyes darkened and his face hardened. He shook his head and stormed past you, knocking his shoulder against yours as he did so.

“Merlin, he’s a creep,” Ron muttered as he and Hermione caught up with you, “are you okay?”

You smiled up at the tall boy, “yeah Ron, I’m fine. Thank you.” What the hell did you even see in Mattheo?

The sorting ceremony was over and you were enjoying the glorious feast when the doors flew open. Snape stormed in, his cloak billowing behind him, Harry came in after him and your heart jolted as Hermione gasped and Ron muttered something beneath his breath. Your twin’s face was swollen and bloody, you had an idea who had done this to him. You glanced over your shoulder to glare over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy had a sneer on his face as his eyes followed Harry and Mattheo grinned as he took a sip of his pumpkin juice.

“What happened to your face?” Hermione whispered.

Harry shook his head, aware of all the nosy students staring at him, “not now, later,” he tried to smile, presumably trying not to split his lip open again before he looked at you, “does my face look normal?”

“Hmm,” you squinted at him and tilted your head, “yeah, apart from your massive nose.”

Harry laughed before wincing in pain, “you’re a prick, Y/N.”

You laughed as you drained the rest of your pumpkin juice, you couldn’t wait to get to bed so you were very thankful when Dumbledore dismissed everyone. You couldn’t help but notice Pansy walk off with Malfoy, not even giving Mattheo a backwards glance.

“Scared her off already have you?” you remarked, sidling up to Mattheo.

He frowned at you as he walked up the stairs, “I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” he hissed shaking his head, “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to your brother by the way,” he nodded as Harry walked past with his eyes fixed on the marauders map.

You sighed as you folded your arms, glancing up at Mattheo’s fading bruises, “I’m sorry that he hurt you, I didn’t think he actually would.”

Mattheo scoffed, “you knew what would happen, you just didn’t care.”

“Of course I cared.”

Mattheo shook his head, “I honestly can’t be arsed talking about this let’s just treat each other like we usually would, like this summer never happened.”

“What, like we hate each other?”

“No,” he replied, “like we don’t even know each other. Because we don’t, not really, you were just some pretty girl that I enjoyed kissing over the summer, that’s all.”

Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you watched him walk in the direction of the dungeons.

“What was that about?” Hermione asked, making you jump and look at her guiltily.

“Oh you know, just same old shit,” you laughed and Hermione nodded but she didn’t look terribly convinced. You would have to be careful or you would be giving yourself away.

------------

Taglist; @primscat @thelifeofsecretpenguins @ehwhatever26 @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @nevillescomslut @hannahnikohl @5-seconds-of-animals @sanjanapm @abbiesxox @kaverichauhan @cat-loves-music @elijahslover @torresbarnes @ikyourwonderingwhyinameditthis @scream4melove @

[read-write-thrive]

Hospitals had never been the favorite location of either of the Dead Boy Detectives, and they usually refrained from even approaching the premises when at all possible. In the early days of the agency, it was too risky— too many dying or newly dead individuals meant Death was nearly impossible to escape, after all. Even now, with an expanded agency under the influence of the Night Nurse, and as such without immediate risk of hell if they strayed too close to Death, they still tried to avoid hospitals out of habit and for the comfort of all involved—the boys never knew when someone might see them (and it never stopped stinging when someone suddenly did) and it wasn’t exactly easy for the girls to just walk into a hospital without rousing suspicion. It was easier in some ways, these years later, now that the girls were adults and less likely to be seen as truants, but that newfound freedom did not bring with it any sudden desire to see what they were missing behind hospital doors.

All this caution and hesitation was ignored when Charles tapped on the mirror to check on his parents and was met with an unexpected chaos. A heart attack, from what the paramedics were saying as they wheeled the old man out on a stretcher, Charles’s mother and their neighbor following behind in her car. Charles didn’t witness the incident itself, pure luck on the timing, but the aftermath was a flurry of commotion that left him reeling.

He wandered back to the main space of their headquarters (a bigger place than what it once was, courtesy of the girls’ tiring of the boys being unreachable during a crisis or two and deciding to go all in on a shared flat) in a daze. Charles didn’t hide his checking in on his parents anymore, but still preferred to do it alone. Thankfully, his friends were kind, wonderful people who were happy to leave him to it. Said wonderful friends, however, were also quick to notice something wrong.

“Charles?” Edwin, naturally, was the first to notice Charles’s return and immediately put his book aside.

The girls, engrossed in a new show on the other side of their living room, snapped up in their own ways.

“What’s wrong?”

“What happened?”

Charles swallowed down the mixture of emotions threatening to drown him, “It’s my dad, he’s had a heart attack.” He screwed his face up in an attempt to stop the tears that threatened to spill out. Why was he crying? The bastard made his life miserable—

“Good.” Crystal was the first to comment. Niko slapped at her arm. Crystal put her hands up, “What? He was awful!”

“It’s still his dad!” Niko protested, “You can’t just say that!”

Charles tuned out their bickering. Everything felt a little tuned out, actually. And then Edwin was in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“-love? Charles?”

“Hmm?” Charles tried to silence his whirring emotions.

“Are you alright?”

The Charles of even several years ago would have been quick to brush it all off with a smile. But he’d grown since then.

“Honestly? Not sure. Is that bad? Crystal’s right, he was a dick.”

“And Niko makes a very good point as well. He’s still your father.”

The tears were back again. Edwin pulled him in for a hug before Charles could say another word.

The girls had also quieted, alternating between watching the exchange and speaking through meaningful glances.

Niko was the one to break it, “Did you want to see him?”

The very idea shocked Charles, going rigid in Edwin’s arms.

“He might not even be dying, and going to a hospital is recipe for trouble—“ Charles responded slowly, as if waiting for someone to agree with him and take the weight of the decision off of him.

“I mean, a heart attack is probably close enough to death even if it doesn’t get him.” Crystal contributed.

“And our avoidance of hospitals doesn’t matter if you’d like to go see him. The Night Nurse’s lone positive trait is her protection from Death’s clutches, after all.” Edwin said into Charles’s curls.

“I-“ Charles gave himself a breath, “I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“We don’t have to.” Crystal said softly.

“Yeah, we can just have our movie night and distract you, or if you want to talk to us but not go see him…” Niko backed her girlfriend up, trailing off into the silence.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Edwin echoed, sighing, “But I don’t want you to regret anything, either.”

“That’s true, it might be good for closure…” Niko chimes in once again, positive in the face of it all and determined to see Charles cheered up as well.

“Fuck that. You don’t owe him closure. If you don’t want to go, then don’t go.” Crystal’s anger was not what it once was, but she had her moments, particularly when abusers were the topic of discussion. Thankfully she seemed determined to keep her composure.

“Your call, Charles.” Edwin said, pulling away from the embrace but not letting Charles go just yet. He obviously had more to say, if the turn of his mouth was any indication, but he was all softness regardless.

“Could be my last chance, innit?” Charles said lowly, obviously not thrilled at the prospect, “If the bastard goes…”

Edwin’s face shifted, and Charles knew he’d guessed Edwin’s unspoken comment correctly. Still, Edwin’s tone and posture were the same, “No one expects it of you. And we’ll support you regardless of what you decide.”

Charles had a distant feeling of pride that Edwin had gotten better at this sort of thing. He’d tell him that another time. Once this was all over and the world made sense again.

After a moment of reflection, Charles sighed, “I think I’d like to go. Might help me heal or closure or whatever, yeah?”

The girls were up, pulling on their coats and shoes without a second thought. Charles felt monumentally lucky to have them.

Including the boy who held him still, voice low and meeting his eyes, “Do you want all of us with you? We can stay behind if you’d rather do this alone.”

Charles shook his head with his same sad smile, “I don’t want to think what might happen if I do all this alone, mate. Though you’ll have to forgive me if I lose my cool.”

Edwin clearly saw through the attempt at a joking diversion but smiled regardless, “Very well. Do you know which hospital we’re visiting?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s probably closest to their place, yeah?” Charles guessed, scrambling his thoughts trying to remember which hospital he’d been taken to when he’d broken his arm as a kid. It was so long ago, and so much had happened since…

Edwin once again shook him out of his thoughts, “Some investigation is in order, then. Niko? Crystal?”

“On it!” Niko chirped, already deep into her phone, Crystal close behind.

After some internet sleuthing, the girls had acquired the address of the nearest hospital to the Rowland family home and were taking the long way there while the boys readied themselves in front of the mirror.

“Are you ready?” Edwin double checked, hand outstretched.

Charles shook himself, “Not sure I’d ever be, love, but let’s get on with it.”

Edwin pulled him in for a quick kiss on the cheek, a sincere smile, and then through the mirror they went.

—-

They stepped out of a mirror in one of the many bathrooms in the hospital complex, disoriented by the amount of beings (alive and dead alike) as they tried to navigate the halls. The A&E department was the worst, with traumatic deaths creating a perpetual plethora of ghosts. Of course, this was also the first place they needed to check.

The boys held hands tightly as they went, both wound tight by the noise and the blood and the general atmosphere of the place. It was far from the most dangerous place they’d been in their decades together, but that brought little comfort in the face of it all.

Phasing through the various doors and curtains, it was ultimately clear that if Charles’s father was in this hospital, he’d been moved elsewhere. They split momentarily, with Edwin going to find a map of the hospital while Charles waited at the nurse’s station to see if he could get any leads on his family.

It soon became clear that there was simply too much going on for Charles to glean any real information, and he was ready to give up and find Edwin when the next phone call to the desk came from a familiar phone number and gave way to a familiar voice. Niko’s voice was clear on the other end, and just loud enough for Charles to overhear. The nurse gave the information with little questioning, informing all involved that Mr. Rowland had just been moved to a private room on a different floor. Charles didn’t stick around to listen to what exact department the man was in, or what the prognosis was—as soon as he knew the number he was off to find Edwin.

It was quieter in this department. Less urgent. Which meant something significant that Charles was pointedly not thinking about, less that send him into another tailspin. Thankfully Edwin’s presence was grounding beside him.

A nurse left the room as they found it, giving a glimpse through the doorway. Charles’s mother sat at his father’s bedside, accompanying neighbor at her side. They couldn’t see his father (or his father’s ghost for that matter) from their vantage point.

Edwin gave one last squeeze of Charles’s hand to get his attention, “I can give you a moment alone if you’d like.”

“Don’t you dare.” Charles tried to joke, but his voice didn’t seem to cooperate. Edwin’s eyes saddened, but he gave a firm nod and gestured for Charles to take the lead.

The man of the hour looked frail against the white sheets. He was awake, but by the look of his eyes he was definitely on his way out. There was a bulky mask over his nose and mouth, IV in his arm, heart monitor dragging along beside him. Charles's mother sat quietly, holding his hand between two frail ones of her own.

Charles didn't think his emotions could get any more complicated, and then his father's eyes found him. Then Edwin. Then back to him. He rasped behind the mask, Charles's mother shushing him gently.

"Hi dad." Charles sighed more than said, standing awkwardly at the foot of his bed and gripping Edwin's hand so hard he wouldn't be surprised if he managed to hurt him despite all the ghost technicalities.

Another rasp, this time accompanied by a frail hand gesturing towards the boys. Charles nearly slumped in relief when his mother glanced their way but returned to murmuring to her husband rather than reel back in shock. She had some time left, at least. His father, however, continued to try to speak.

Seeing his mother's distress, Charles felt himself snap into his protective mindset without thought, snarking, "Just give it up, mate. They can't see us—you're the only one dying here, so only you get the honour. Trust me, I'd rather talk to mum than you any day, but I cant say I'm too torn up about you going first. Maybe she'll get to have some happy years without you."

The man thankfully stopped his rasping, but his eyes emoted enough that Charles knew he heard him. It gave him the confidence to keep going, never quite sure what his next word was going to be but glad to say it anyway.

"Not that you asked, but I've been having a great time these last thirty, forty years. Yeah my death was awful, don't get me wrong. Kinda wish you got even a taste of that, for all the shit you put me through… Actually, do heart attacks hurt?" He turned his question towards Edwin, who had such a complicated expression that Charles immediately decided that the question wasn't that important, "Doesn't matter now, I guess. But yeah, my afterlife has honestly been better than my life ever was. Not only do I not have to deal with your bullshit, but I've also found people who actually care about me.

"Like this, right here, is Edwin," Charles swung their held hands upwards in an attempt at a wave, earning a slightly hysterical chuckle from Edwin, "He found me dying in that attic, showed me kindness as I died, and I've been by his side ever since. He's the best thing that ever happened to me—"

Charles took a breath as his voice cracked, Edwin's hand squeezing his in silent support. Charles didn't look over to try and keep it together a bit longer.

"He's the love of my—well, love of my afterlife. And I know you’d hate that, or at least hated all that when I was alive. I remember your rants about how all those people dying deserved it. Shouting at the telly like they personally offended you just by existing. Do you still think like that, all these years later? Hell, now here you are, dying on a hospital bed while your queer son laughs at you. What a twist!" Charles laughs, but it doesn't sound right even to himself. He, once again, pointedly doesn't look at Edwin. Looking at Edwin means dropping the brave face, and he's got a few more things to say first.

“You know, you’ll think this is weak or whatever, but I checked in on you and mum over the years. Neither of you could see me, and I never stuck around long, but I wanted—no, I needed to see. If I was the only one you beat, if you’d turn to mum now that I was gone. If you felt any remorse when I died. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I’d seen you raise your hand to her. Probably taken up Edwin here’s offer to haunt the shit out of you.”

“I never—“

“Not in those words, love, I know, I know. But you meant it like that and you know it. Anyway, thankfully I never saw it. And she didn’t cower like I did, or hide any bruises, so I figured you were safe there. As for remorse, well, never really saw that either. I was bitter and angry those first few years over that. Thankfully Edwin here kept me busy. And now I can’t really be arsed, especially now that you’re dying and I can’t find much remorse either. Angry it took you so long, maybe.”

Charles once again looked at his mother, at the tears on her cheeks and her face turned in silent prayer.

“Even if you never beat her, I still wish you’d given her more time without you. Did you ever visit her family? You shot it down every time she even hinted at it when I was alive. And she’d smile and move on like it didn’t hurt her to hear that the man she married hated her family that much. You know, I used to promise her that I would take her to see them again. I’d tell her that once I was grown up we’d run away and live in India where you wouldn’t care enough to chase after us. She’d swat me for that. Disrespecting you. It always came back to you. Which is just how you wanted it, right? The whole world revolving around you? So fucking glad I got out of there. I shouldn’t have had to die for that, but whatever. It let me live free of you. And soon enough I won’t have to worry about you at all.”

Shoes squeaked obnoxiously right outside the door. Charles glanced up just in time to see Niko giving him a thumbs up as Crystal pulled her away from the glass. Turning back, he was glad to see his mother hadn’t turned away from her husband. No need to confuse her or get the girls in trouble.

Charles sighed and turned back to his father, “Not really sure what else to say here. Edwin? Any ideas?”

Edwin thankfully took the playful question as seriously as Charles meant it, “Hmm. You could tell him about hell if you’d like to be especially vindictive. Or take the moral high ground and forgive him for all he did to you. Crystal and I would also be happy to curse him for all he did if you’d like. Literally or figuratively.”

Charles genuinely laughed at how his father’s eyes widened, “While that sounds tempting, he’s already on his way out. All we’d do is freak out my mum.”

Edwin gave him a soft smile, “Of course. Just a suggestion.”

He returned the smile and squeezed his hand in thanks before turning back to his father, “Right. Well dad, I’m glad I caught you before Death did. I won’t speak to hell or anything, don’t want to jinx it, but I hope you get what you deserve. I’m not going to stick around to find out. And I won’t forgive you, either. You were a right bastard and I still struggle with getting you out of my head even after literally dying. So you don’t deserve my forgiveness, honestly. I’ll keep an eye on mum, but that’s for her and my sake, not for yours. Probably won’t go to your funeral or any of that, either. I’ll be a little mad if they bury you next to me, but those are just bones by now so I guess it doesn’t really matter. Yeah. I think that’s it. No forgiveness, no love, just hope you get what you deserve and that I never have to see you again. That about sums it up.”

Edwin squeezed his hand again, drawing his attention, and speaking softly, “Does that mean you’d like to go? We can wait if you want to be sure.”

Charles once again felt overwhelmed with it all, particularly with how lucky he was to have Edwin. He didn’t want to start crying here, so he just nodded and pulled Edwin with him out of the room.

“How’d it go?” Crystal asked from her seat in the hall chair, Niko nodding next to her.

“He’s dying alright. Gave him a piece of my mind. But I’m ready to never think about him again, honestly.” Charles tried to make light of it, but it was clear none of them bought it. He blinked up towards the ceiling to keep the tears away just a bit longer.

“Once we get back to the apartment, expect plenty of hugs from us.” Niko informed him, eyes glancing down the hall at the others down the way.

Charles smiled, “Noted. Sorry to make you come all the way out here, guys.”

“Nope, none of that—“ Crystal started, but was cut off by nurses suddenly rushing towards the room, obvious some alarm or something had been pulled. The girls stood in a rush to get out of the way.

“We’ll see you back at the apartment!” Niko called back to the boys as they took their leave.

Edwin held his arm out, the way he did when he wanted Charles to feel especially cherished, “Shall we?”

Charles turned very purposefully away from the door and took the offered arm with a thankful smile. He would need to have a proper cry and rant and rave about all of this later, he was sure. He’d come to learn that all those complicated emotions don’t just go away when you ignore them. But, for now, he was happy to hold onto his partner and get the bloody hell out of this hospital.

~

EDIT: now with part 2 !!

[afewproblems]

I want Steve to find out about the simultaneous games that happened at the beginning of season 4.

That Eddie insisted that the hellfire session went on as scheduled, despite the fact that Lucas wouldn't be able to make it.

Lucas, one of Steve's kids, who Steve had defended from being beaten up, putting himself in the line of fire from that racist asshole Billy Hargrove.

Lucas, who had been pushed aside and alienated from his longtime friends just because he also liked sports and wanted to try and remain afloat in the ocean of high school.

Lucas, who loved his friends and and enjoyed different things, because spoiler alert you can in fact be a jock and like Dungeons and Beasts or whatever the hell it was called. Steve enjoyed Star Wars and could dunk, proof right there.

But all it took was one word from Eddie, and Dustin and Mike not only didn't go to Lucas's game, but they couldn't even be happy for him about the championship AND their final session of their long-term campaign went on as scheduled despite the absence of the oldest Sinclair.

Sure Jason Carver turned out to be a crazy asshole but Steve knew exactly how it felt to be caught between worlds and the biggest difference was that Lucas had always been a good person.

Unlike him.

One nice thing about his King Steve days was that he knew how to push, and he could turn it on for a day, just to knock some sense into a certain curly haired metal head.

"Hang back a sec man," Steve says almost casually as they exit Eddie's van after pulling into the movie theater. The kids tumble out of the open doors and race towards the building, pushing each other in their hurry to get in line for the second running of Highlander.

"What's up Stevie?" Eddie says, his dimpled grin comes out in full force as he looks Steve up and down, leaning back again the front of the vehicle grill. His arms cross loosely over his Black Sabath shirt and the various rings and chains sparkle in the high afternoon sun. He looks great today.

Focus Steve.

He clears his throat and sighs, trying to get into the heads pace from earlier when he initially found out what happened from Dustin. He had been absolutely furious.

But the flame of righteous fury had dissipated, leaving behind a cold feeling of disappointment in Eddie. It hung heavy and immovable in his chest, he needed to talk to him.

"Hey uh, I heard about the championship game man, Lucas's game".

Eddie tilts his head slightly, his brown doe eyes scanning Steve's face with confusion.

"What the basketball game back in March? That was like six months ago man? What about it?"

"Did you ever apologize to Lucas?" Steve asks, he keeps his face neutral, not wanting to influence the answer as Eddie scoffs. Not a great sign.

"For what Harrington?" And that stings a little, he'd been Stevie for the last two months or so, sometimes a Honey or Sweetheart thrown into the mix and Steve felt that they were barreling their way towards something new.

Steve swallows, he can't let this go, not even for Eddie.

"It was a shit thing to do man, to not let Lucas play and to not let Dustin and Mike go to support him--"

"Those kids know that the campaign comes first, that's the first tenant of Hellfire and they know that going in!" Eddie snarls, he steps forward towards Steve who holds his ground with narrowed eyes.

Fine.

"I thought you were above that sort of thing Munson, judging people for the things they like? Assuming things about a person and writing them off".

Eddie stops, his face paling slightly, his angry expression flickers once but remains in place as he crosses his arms again.

"Those games can't be rescheduled man," Steve continues with a shake of his head, "it's not even the school that decides the schedule for the season, it's the districts and the coaches, and who fucking cares if he was on the bench for most of the season? Because he played! And none of you were there".

Steve sighs and runs a tired hand over his face, "Not even his friends who he has known since pre-school. And with Will gone and Max dealing with all that shift from Starcourt and Vecna it was just the three of them, and you took that from him man".

Eddie stares at him, he says nothing, he doesn't even look like he's breathing right now and Steve feels like shit.

"I'm just saying, if you do that again, to any of them, to my kids," Steve says matter of factly, "then we'll have a problem".

"That supposed to be a threat, King Steve?" Eddie sneers at him, but his shoulders are dropping, and there is no true heat behind the words.

Steve shakes his head as Mike pops out of the double doors of the entrance and yells at the pair of them to, shit or get off the pot because what hell is taking them so long?

"No Eddie, it's not a threat because I'm hoping that you'll do the right thing. Because I know you love those kids and you're not an asshole".

He turns on his heel and heads towards the doors, leaving Eddie with the empty van. His heart thumps wildly in his chest, and the cold feeling in his chest spreads and spreads as he goes over the conversation again and again.

It stings a little to know that he's ruined whatever he had with Eddie but he couldn't let this go, friends don't lie after all.

He grabs their tickets, still buying one for Eddie --just in case, though the other man has not entered the building.

Steve tamps down the tight feeling of disappointment that grows the longer Eddie remains outside. If Eddie takes off, leaving them there, Steve can cover, he'll get Nancy to pick them up or maybe Jonathan --they're on better footing these days. He'll say Eddie had some kind of emergency come up, that Wayne needed him for something.

Yeah, friends didn't lie, but how could he break the kids' hearts like this?

They thankfully don't seem to pick up on this as they chatter about Sean Connery and what flavor of soda to get.

"Oh there you are dude! We thought you got kidnapped!" Dustin suddenly crows beside Steve, he turns to see Eddie behind him, a strange expression on his face.

Oh thank God.

"Nah, just had a quick smoke before the movie man, uh actually I wanted to borrow Lucas for a sec if that's cool?"

The kids look from Eddie to Steve, as though to check if he knows what's going on, Eddie hasn't been this shifty since March when Chrissy's death hit the news.

Steve nudges Lucas by the shoulder, leaning slightly down to say, "I'll grab your snacks, go on".

Lucas gives him a confused look over his shoulder before following Eddie outside the entrance  the doors swing closed just as Dustin whirls on Steve.

"What the hell was that!" He demands with crossed arms and a scowl on his face, his blue eyes scanning Steve's own for something, some information about what is going on outside.

"Yeah, you guys are being weird," Mike snarks from over his shoulder, he's standing with Will and El who watch the interaction with curious eyes, "first you take forever to come in and now this?"

And so much for the kids not picking up on it.

"You guys are pretty nosy," Steve hums, deflecting with a small smile as he ruffles Dustin's curls and steps forward with the rest of the line.

Dustin glares with narrowed eyes and huffs, "Fine, I'll just ask Lucas about it".

Steve snorts, he isn't sure if the kids have even talked about it. They've all been friends long enough now that this one event wouldn't be enough to hurt this kind of friendship. But it's certainly been on Dustin's mind since he was the one to bring it up to Steve that morning.

"Good idea," Steve says with a smile as he steps up the the counter, he looks at the kids before smiling at the clerk, "okay what's everyone having, let her know".

***

The lights have dimmed and the pre-show has started by the time Eddie and Lucas make their way over to the seats Steve and the kids have saved. Steve hands Lucas his popcorn and soda, sprite and orange crush mixed, as he makes his way over to the empty seat beside Dustin. There is a wide smile on his face, and it startles Steve slightly as he realizes he hasn't seen Lucas with one around Eddie in months.

His heart hurts at the thought.

Eddie drops down beside Steve, blowing out a long slow sigh as he does.

He scrubs a pair of ringed hands over his face roughly before finally relaxing into the shitty theater seat and reaching over to snag a handful of popcorn from Steve's bag, spilling kernels all over the place. 

Steve rolls his eyes and tips the bag closer to Eddie who immediately grabs a second handful.

Eddie is facing the screen, but his eyes are trained on the seat in front of him, the projection illuminates his face in whites, yellows, greens, and blues as the movie begins and Steve can't look away.

He eventually tips his face towards Steve, "You were right," Eddie murmurs before finally taking in the screen as he looks away again. Even though he's sitting nearly boneless and slumped in the seat, his shoulders are tense, upset. 

Guilty.

"I'm glad," Steve whispers, and he is.

The icy feeling of disappointment that held his chest in a tight vice grip all morning finally loosens as he leans into the armrest and feels the warmth of Eddie's shoulder soak into his own.

"Thanks Steve," Eddie whispers, his warm breath ghosting over Steve's ear as leans closer, letting their hands brush in the darkness of the theater.

Steve closes his eyes, and lets himself bask in the warmth, even for just a moment.

[sushisketching]

day 3 - im behind on my schedule as per usual but i am trying ok ;-;

[griffin-stone]

Healing Light

Lemme just... just fix this here. Acolyte spoilers below the cut.

Yeah, so it took me all of ten minutes to go, "nah, they didn't really die" and start writing it. It's messy but have a lil balm for ep. 5.

----------

  Breathe.

   Just breathe.

   Easier said than done. Breathing shouldn’t have been so difficult, but… but her lungs wouldn’t obey her. Nothing obeyed her orders, not her lungs or her closed eyes or…

   She felt only one thing. Her heart thudding dully in her chest. Slowing and slowing…

   She heard voices over her. Loud and angry, pounding upon her ears with the icy darkness pressing upon her aching chest.

   Then, silence.

   Silence and ice and nothingness and…

   “Breathe.”

   Her lungs spasmed, then dusty air touched her tongue and throat. She wanted to cough, but her weak lungs only took in more of the filthy, cold air.

   Air slid from her lungs, then back in. Each slow breath came easier, charged by the silent command she felt rather than heard.

   “Breathe.”

   Her eyes didn’t obey her, but she realized they were open and the darkness was above her. Not in her. The ice receded with each slow breath.

   “Breathe.”

   Finally, Jecki blinked. Her vision cleared somewhat, so the dark shadows became branches and trees and leaves. And a face.

   “Breathe.”

   Jecki blinked again, and she could see the dust and mud and tears streaking the face over hers. She seemed to have control of her lungs for the first time, as her exhale was a sigh and her eyes fell so they were only halfway open.

   “Yord.”

   Yord offered an exhausted smile, then slid to the side. Jecki heard him thump to the ground beside her. 

   Turning her head, Jecki saw Yord’s ignited lightsaber. That explained why she’d been able to see again. 

   For several moments, padawan and knight laid silently side-by-side, just breathing. 

   Yord was the first to move again, sitting slowly up. He looked back down at Jecki.

   “Still here, padawan?” Yord asked slowly, his voice rasping.

   Jecki blinked slowly. “You’re supposed… to be on… the ship.”

   “Osha came back.”

   Jecki snorted, a little impressed with Osha.

   “He was going to kill you.”

   Jecki hummed. “I kind of... thought he did.”

   “Yeah. Same here.”

   The two of them didn’t move for a moment longer. Then something clicked in Jecki’s mind, and she sat up enough to look down.

   Three holes were burned into her padawan robes, as well as on her chest. But when she touched the wounds, she found rough scars. She looked at Yord.

   “What happened?” Jecki asked.

   Yord shrugged, apparently too tired to be his usual knowing self. “I don’t know. We were fighting, I think, then… then it was dark and cold…”

   Jecki nodded slowly. “It was the same for me.”

   There was another long silence, then both of them looked sharply at the other and yelled in unison.

   “Master Sol!”

   Jecki scrambled to stand up, but her legs gave out and she fell. She cried out when the impact sent a blaze of pain across her chest, and quickly rolled over to relieve the pressure on her chest.

   “Slowly,” Yord said from where he still sat. “I think you just came back from the dead.”

   “People don’t come back from the dead,” Jecki said. 

   Yord shrugged. “You just did.”

   Jecki looked skeptically at Yord. But with the location of her wounds… how did she survive?

   “What happened to you?” Jecki asked after a moment.

   Yord’s gaze became distant. “I’m not sure.”

   “You? Not sure?”

   “Are you wanting to relive that fight?” Yord asked.

   “Okay, okay…” Jecki sighed and laid back. Then she took a determined breath and made herself sit up. “We’ve got to go. I don’t know what happened to Master Sol or Osha or…”

   “The guy from the apothocary,” Yord muttered. “How? What was he?”

   “He had a lightsaber.” Jecki tested her arms’ strength, finding them still too shaky. “A Jedi?”

   “He didn’t fight like a Jedi… or anything I’ve ever encountered,” Yord said.

   The two were silent again. The forest was dark and foggy, and they seemed to be the only things living in the whole forest.

   Yord’s lightsaber deactivated, throwing them into darkness. Jecki inhaled sharply before she could stop herself.

   “Those moth things,” Yord’s voice came out of the darkness. “If they come back…”

   Jecki made herself breathe out slowly. Everything was so dark that she didn’t realize right away that her eyes were closed. She tried to open them, but didn’t have the strength for even that.

   Everything was so dark… so cold… and the two of them were laying there defenseless. The forest was dark and dangerous, and they couldn’t move.

   Jecki let out another slow breath, trying to center her thoughts. She reached for calm, remembering the lessons from Sol. Trust in the Force.

   An unexpected peace came to Jecki. She forgot about her missing master and the stranger with the blood-red blade. It was just her and Yord, and the little pool of light and calm.

   “Jecki.”

   Jecki slid from the calm with a slight groan of protest. She could feel things again, and there was nothing but more pain than she could bear.

   “Jecki, wake up.”

   Jecki opened her eyes to find the forest bathed in light. She was confused briefly, then realized it was morning. The air was cool and clean, and the trees didn’t seem so sinister anymore.

   And Yord was still alive beside her. She could live with that.

--------------

I might keep going, and get a cleaned up version that goes on a bit further and includes Osha to post on A03, but for now, this'll do.

[setoangel01]

For Zerith Week - Day 8 - Flower Shop AU

...

"Ooh, which ones are these?" Aerith asked.

Zack flushed at the warmth she exuded when she closed the distance between them. The way the sunlight was filtering through the windows and catching on the amber and reds scattered in her brunette hair, giving her a halo effect like the angel she appeared to be.

Realizing she asked him a question, he quickly answered, "These are the Gongagan Lilies. It's best to transfer them while they're only sprouts so they can survive the long trips I make. When they're stronger, they can easily be transferred into deeper soil."

Aerith peered down into the tub, her fingers gently resting on its edge and purposefully brushing against his hands still holding it. The tiny green sprouts appeared healthy and full of life, she sensed their presence and knew they had been well taken care of - maybe even a bit spoiled in their previous environment. Feeling their pleased murmurs, Aerith smiled.

(Keep Reading)

[gun-roswell]

Chapters: 3/14 Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch (Cartoon), Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Clone Force 99 | Bad Batch & Other Star Wars Characters (Star Wars) Characters: CT-9904 | Crosshair, CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo, CT-9901 | Hunter, CT-9902 | Tech, CT-9903 | Wrecker, Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Batcher the Lurca Hound (Star Wars), Pabu Island Residents (Star Wars: The Bad Batch), Clone Trooper Characters (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Howzer (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Summer of Bad Batch 2024, summerofbadbatch2024, Fan Events and Prompts, Pabu Island (Star Wars), family and friends, Fun under the Sun, Snippets and Scenes, Ficlets, family time and bonding, Fun and Fluff, Humour, Light Angst, Fights and Squabbles, Family Dynamics Series: Part 1 of A Summer of Bad Batch 2024

Summary: One story, many parts: Each chapter containing individual ficlets in the life and times of the Bad Batch and their friends and one warm summer spent on the peaceful island of Pabu.

Tales as per inspired by the corresponding weekly prompts (see below).

Part of Summer of Bad Batch 2024 collection and series

@summer-of-bad-batch​

[anstarwar]

Keeli and Remi (the pigmy bantha-goat) on adventures after the war

Ok so Keeli owns a pigmy bantha-goat and spalpaca (space alpaca) farm on Ryloth now

[jomiddlemarch]

When we fight, we win

Distantly, over the playlist you’d been singing along to with your hairbrush as a mic, the steam in the bathroom flattering both the wobble of your high notes and in the mirror, the jiggle of your upper arms as you toweled your hair dry, you heard a bell ringing. 

Not the landline your great-aunt Myrna had insisted on when she gave you the house for a song or roughly what you made teaching two credits of French lit at the community college. A chanson. Not the dryer, which had been on the fritz for the past six months, making you look at out at the postage-stamp sized backyard with its ratatouille themed straggling raised beds of eggplants, tomatoes, and peppers, and try to envision a clothesline along with the imaginary chiminea and swing you’d thought would be perfect, if you could ever justify putting any cash towards anything other than your student loans or measly retirement fund or taco Tuesdays at the dive bar six blocks away.

Not the jingle bells on the Christmas tree stuffed toy you’d gotten for your persnickety calico Bel-Gazou, who generally couldn’t be bothered to do anything unless sardines were involved.

It was the doorbell. 

And as much as you wanted to ignore it, it was possibly the repairman for the dryer, who said he might stop by but not to count on it.

You had no clothesline, and you did not want eau de mildew scenting your bedlinens again. Bleach had worked but then it had taken a good six washes before the lavender in your dryer balls conquered the smell of Clorox.

You got your wet hair bundled up in a clip, threw on cut-off shorts and a passably clean tee-shirt of some impossibly ancient vintage, likely your own freshman year when every pizza party and ice cream social seemed to have a commemorative shirt you grabbed because why not. You were barefoot but the doorbell rang again and you weren’t about to miss having the dryer fixed.

It was not Matteo, the regular guy, who couldn’t quite grow a mustache but hadn’t stopped trying.

It was not Ray, the old guy, the owner, who sometimes answered the phone and sounded like he’d swallowed an ocean’s worth of rotgut whiskey.

It was a stranger, a rangy guy in a worn pair of jeans with salt and pepper hair, flanked by two tween girls carrying clipboards, all three of them wearing navy Harris for President tee-shirts. The taller girl had her hair in puffs with American flag themed ribbon bows. The shorter one wore what appeared to be the oldest pair of Converse sneakers in the known universe.

“Good mornin,’ ma’am,” he said. You’d opened the door partway and you might have backed away, shaking your head, except for the hopeful look in the girls’ eyes and the purposeful cheer in his voice, which you could tell was not his regular tone of voice. He was Being a Good Role Model and possible also Being a Good Dad and it was already hot and you were going to vote for her anyway.

“Good morning,” you said. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re doin’ some canvassin’ today, for the Vice-President,” he said.

“Kamala Harris,” the older of the two girls said. Her skin was darker than his but she had something of him around the eyes, looked to be his daughter or niece, where the other kid, scrappy and built more compactly, seemed unrelated, maybe a friend or his girlfriend’s kid. 

“She’s running for President,” the scrappy one said. “Are you registered to vote?”

“Ellie, sweetheart, you don’t have to rush,” the man said.

“She looks like she’s about to slam the door in our faces,” Ellie retorted. She blew out an exasperated breath that didn’t budge the bangs stuck to her sweaty forehead. You wondered whether you ought to offer them some iced tea. Then you wondered if you had iced tea in the fridge. 

“No she didn’t, but she might now,” the other girl said, rolling her eyes. The eyeroll said they were relatives, possibly cousins, most like sisters.

“She wasn’t and she won’t,” you said, smiling at them all, ending with the man, giving him the Patient Smile of the Experienced Educator. He countered with a grin that said Can I buy you a drink, darlin’? and not the I know, kids these days one you’d been expecting. You wished, fleetingly, you’d put on some Black Honey lip-gloss or mascara. You wished that you had mascara that was not old enough to vote in the medicine cabinet of the Craftsman’s one full bathroom, where your 80s playlist was still belting out not to stop believin’. You willed the hair clip to stay clipped. 

“I am, registered, I mean. I just checked again last week, because they’ve been doing weird stuff, taking people off the voter rolls. It said online to check, so I did. But it’s a good question to ask,” you said, nodding encouragingly at each girl. Ellie narrowed her eyes at you but the other one smiled back. There was a moment of relative silence or at least, no one spoke. Saturday morning rumbled on, the sound of yardwork and radios playing in open windows, the very self-important terrier across the street barking a warning at a butterfly.

“Do you know your polling place?” the man said, both girls apparently derailed from their script.

“Yeah,” you said. “The middle school, over on Washington.”

“He could’ve been a king,” Ellie volunteered. “George Washington? Everybody liked him, he could’ve just kept on being in charge but he didn’t and that’s why we’re here.”

“Because of George Washington?” you said.

“Because of Kamala Harris,” the other girl said. Bel-Gazou, who didn’t like strangers at the best of times (which always included sardines and which obviously didn’t include this very sardine-free moment), meowed loudly. Audibly. You shrugged. Bel-Gazou was a calico with Big Cat aspirations. The girl gave you an appraising look. “Kamala, she stands up for everyone, including cat ladies with no kids.”

“Sarah!” the man exclaimed, almost choking. You were also almost choking, but with laughter.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I only have one cat, but no kids, so I guess I count. She’s got my vote—”

“You mean, we don’t have to ask what issues are most important to you?” Ellie said. There was a definite note of disappointment in her voice. 

“Duh, no, she already said she was on our side,” Sarah muttered.

“Reproductive rights. And climate change,” you said. “But you don’t need to persuade me. I appreciate you getting out there, volunteering.”

“We can’t vote,” Ellie said, frowning. “But we can do this.”

“You sure can,” you said.

“You wanna join us? Campaign’s lookin’ for more canvassers. They haven’t given up on turnin’ Texas blue. Or maybe purple,” the man asked. He had dark eyes and a wonderfully rumpled look, though he smelled good. So, so good and let’s face it, the grey in his hair was a turn-on. He was only asking you to volunteer, nothing else, no matter what your ovaries had to say about it.

“Maybe,” you said. “You need my email address? My cell?”

“I have a pen,” Ellie said, shoving a clipboard in front of you. Sarah huffed a little. You wrote your email neatly enough he could read it, though it would probably break all sort of rules if he texted you later that day, some sort of violation of canvassers’ HIPAA or whatever.

“I’m Joel, by the way. These are my girls, Sarah and Ellie. We’re canvassin’ for the rest of the day, then they’re going to a sleepover at their uncle’s. He takes them Saturday nights when I play gigs at Paloma’s,” he said.

“Oh, that sounds fun,” you said, pretending to yourself you meant the canvassing or the sleepover, not the idea of Joel playing something, maybe a guitar, singing covers of Johnny Cash.

“He’s single,” Ellie offered.

“But he’s got no game,” Sarah added. She glared at her father. “We’re supposed to be getting voters to say they’ll vote for her, for Kamala, not wasting time. This isn’t a meet-cute—"

Joel grimaced. His mouth was still screwed up in a wince, but his eyes were warm.

“If I’d been an undecided voter, you would have spent all this time talking to me anyway. And I said I might do some volunteering. I already write postcards with some other people over at the library on Tuesday nights, but I could try canvassing. Get out of my comfort zone,” you said. 

“That’s true,” Ellie said. 

“I’ve never written postcards, besides the wish-you-were-here kind,” Joel said. 

“Maybe, if you have a break tonight at Paloma’s, I could tell you about it. Bring a couple,” you said.

“Can kids write the postcards too?” Sarah asked. 

“Definitely,” you said. “You get a list of addresses and a message to write. You can write on your own or with your friends. No cursive, only printing, so anybody can read them.”

“Better with a friend,” Joel said. “We’ve got to be going, we’ve got another twenty doorbells to ring but Paloma’s. Eight. I’ve got decent handwriting.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there, then,” you said. 

“Hope so,” Joel replied. 

You smiled at him, watching him easy with his daughters, the sunlight catching the edges of the clipboards, Kamala Harris’s name bold across his chest. Hope was no longer something in short supply.

[fresaesa]

Minho after not seeing Brenda for 5+ months

you can tell when I got lazy cant you…. 🤫🤫

[omgrachwrites]

What a Catch, Sirius - Masterlist

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You come back to England after a long stint abroad, you soon realise that your brother's best friend never grew out of his childish ways. You may stand to lose more than your heart.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, everyone lives au, spicy content in later chapters

A/N: slowly but surely getting back into writing again, so excited for this one! Please let me know if you would like to be tagged, I love you all!! xxx

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four - coming soon

[werewolves-and-winchesters]

Summary:

Gojo Satoru decides to spend the summer working as a lifeguard with his best friend Ieiri Shoko at a popular beach in Okinawa. He falls in love with a beautiful surfer. Based on artwork by Blargberries Lifeguard!Gojo and Surfer!Geto

[virtie333]

Woot! 800 words before work! The first I've written since last Saturday!

Prepping for the final battle!

[lathalea]

TRSB23 - I Will Follow You

I'm happy to present the results of my collaboration with POV aka @pandaoverlord25 for Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2023 @tolkienrsb! 💎 Art (see above): @lathalea

💎 Story: I Will Follow You by POV

Rating: G Warnings: none Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield & Frerin Characters: Thorin Oakenshield, Frerin, Fíli, Kíli, Dwalin, Balin, Óin, Glóin, Ori, Nori, Dori, Gandalf, Bofur, Bifur, Bombur, Bilbo Baggins Word count: 44,353 Summary:

Frerin never dies at Azanulbizar and lives to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield. Cue the added chaos Frerin adds onto their quest and the changes his survival causes for the better or the worse.

[itsaash]

[podfic] Till We Have Arrived Home Again, written by prouvairing

I am giddy! I can't explain how much I love this fic. Thank you prouvairing, for writing such a beautiful story. And to the wonderful popuch_mangeusedcrayon (on instragram) who made this art, thank you ♥♥♥

Listen on a03 to hear a fix-it story, where everyone lives, and Harry comes home with quite a bit of news.

Full credit list of voices is on the ao3 post, but I'll thank tumblr friends @men-written-by-women and @shesrinnnow here too :)))

[evildeadfan102]

I played Until Dawn Session 11 set.

I beat the game itself and saved everyone :D

I still need to do a kill everyone run to platinum the game :)