#and if you wrote me a letter i probably already wrote a reply and haven't mailed it yet...i have a big ass pile of them

[redpanther23]

don't nobody mail me nothin for a minute - if you sent somethin to my san francisco address I can have it forwarded, but I'm gonna be closing my mailbox there! turns out okhlahoma is the second most beautiful place after mississippi

[facingthenorthwind]

So while reading Halo Effect, I naturally became obsessed with the one (1) Jewish character who turns up twice, one as a brief mention and one to write a single letter. Because I am extremely normal, I am writing a fic about him. Technically I've only written the first half (the second half is Peter and Thomas meeting up with him), but it's self-contained. It's been written for literal years, so I figure I should at least post it on tumblr. I hope you enjoy it, @alex51324!! (Also I haven't Yiddishised the Hebrew yet because I only know the standard pronunciation but I'm going to get someone to do it before I post it on AO3.) Hopefully this is comprehensible to non-Jews?? Please let me know if not.

Is it breaking a mitzvah if I say mourner's kaddish for someone who might not be mourned otherwise without a minyan? At most, there's a Green who has a J on his identity disc on one of the wards, but he's currently on so much morphine I don't think he'd remember the words, Issac wrote to his father once he finally got back to his unit. Honestly, he didn't much care what his father wrote back — if God didn't like him saying kaddish for Fitz, God could come down here and tell him what alternative he had. He asked his father to send a candle so he could light it for Fitz, but crossed it out and asked him for ten candles. Fitz may have been the first, but he sure as hell wouldn't be the last.

The news of Fitz’s death had preceded Issac’s return, but nobody had touched Fitz’s belongings yet. Cruelly, the most essential things, the things that meant most to him, had gone down with him, but Rouse eventually laid out everything that was in Fitz’s rucksack so they could decide what they should send back to his family — well, his brother. Fitz had said he didn’t have any other family left. 

They decided they’d split his cigarettes between them — Scogs tried to crack a joke about how Fitz had always been so free with his cigarettes it was almost like he wasn’t gone, but he trailed off, and no one laughed. His large collection of letters went in his rucksack, of course (he seemed to get them constantly, all from different people; sometimes he had even acted as some kind of go-between, passing on information from one letter-writer to another, as if they couldn’t just write to each other themselves). The scarf he’d worn every day from Christmas until mid-April, when even he couldn’t deny it was too hot, went in as well — Issac had always thought privately that it was fairly ugly, but then again, if he tried to knit a scarf it would probably turn out much the same. 

Dawson got Fitz’s copy of Prester John out of his own pack and removed his bookmark before handing it over to Rouse. “He’s made some little notes in it,” he said. “Nothing all that interesting yet as I can see, but it doesn’t feel right to keep it.”

Rouse packed it and Scogs didn’t mention that he had been next in line to read it. One of them could write home to get another copy, probably. Issac was sure he could — he had already received several yellowbacks which he’d left in the break room once everyone had read them so they could find a new home. Fitz’s sewing kit, playing cards and the various other things he’d been sent went on top and by the time they were done there was an all-too-noticeable hole where Fitz had once slept. 

It was only then that Issac noticed Rouse had gained corporal’s stripes. It made sense — Fitz needed replacing and Rouse was an obvious choice, being the smartest of the lot of them. He congratulated him, but Rouse wasn’t offended that he didn’t quite hit the right tone and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Rouse’s didn’t, either.

When he arrived at the wards for his next shift, Captain Russell clapped him on the shoulder and gave him an extra ration of brandy. And then they just had to get on with it.

------

Fitz’s brother never replied to the letter he sent, so Issac kept saying kaddish for him past the thirty days that were traditional. He knew there were lots of reasons he might not have written — maybe it got lost, or he didn’t want to hear from Issac, or any number of perfectly innocent explanations, but as Issac watched men die day after day he couldn’t stop thinking about how if Fitz’s brother was dead, there was no one to remember Fitz as family. 

He said it for eleven months, as he would for a brother — four months longer than he’d known him. About six months in, Rouse wrote to him saying that he’d been stationed with Fitz’s brother at a CCS. He was a corporal, apparently, and Rouse said he reminded him of Fitz — that they said some of the same things, though in temperament they were pretty different. The war dragged on.

He kept a list of people in his units who died as he transferred from place to place, but it quickly became clear that he couldn't light a candle for each of them. The list just kept going, a litany of names followed by the date of their death in the Gregorian and Hebrew calendars. Jerry Scoggins, 30 September 1915/22 Tishrei 5676. Billy Dawson, 2 October 1915/25 Tishrei 5676. Fred Keighery, 4 February 1916/30 Shevat 5676... It felt like keeping track of their yahrzeits was more of a motivation to note the Hebrew date than keeping the holidays, since it wasn’t like he could, not really. Even as he tried to pray every day for whatever service he had free, the words of the festival services just made him homesick, and he didn’t have any of the things you should have: matzah or his mother’s blintzes or a lulav. 

He wrote to Moishe about studying the RAMC periodicals at Shavuot instead of Torah; it felt... oddly fitting. He knew, logically, that this war was man's fault and God didn't have anything to do with it, but that didn't provide any comfort when he was on death watch, sitting beside a man who gasped as he drowned on dry land. If the only control he had in this hell was giving two fingers to God, then he was going to take it. 

His father sent him a machzor so he could pray Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, but he got to Unetaneh Tokef and didn't even have the energy to be embarrassed when someone found him crying ten minutes later. Reciting the ways people would die in the coming year — who by water, who by fire, who by sword and who by wild beast — felt absurd when he could list just as many from who was on the wards. Who by phosgene, who by sepsis, who by bullets? And for the machzor to claim that repentance, prayer and righteousness averted the severity of the decree — that sure hadn’t fucking worked for the soldiers getting killed. It hadn’t worked for Fitz or Scoggins or Keighery or— 

By the end of 1917 he could no longer go over the top, having lost his hearing in his left ear from a shell exploding too close. The letters he received detailing how his nephew he’d never met could talk in whole sentences now and how Mr Rabinowitz had fallen and broken his leg felt like missives from a world he would never return to again; how could he, when all he knew was the war?

The Armistice meant the supply of wounded slowed, but he didn’t go home — he was stationed at a general hospital, so there were still plenty of cases coming through. Even when they offered to send him home because he wasn’t regular army and they were well aware that the other corps had mostly got the wartime recruits out… he knew it was cowardly, but he accepted the offer to stay on until the RAMC left France. He couldn’t picture how he was going to fit back into the Leylands, and perhaps if he put it off long enough he’d finally work it out.

He did not.

When he finally got off the train at Leeds, it felt a little like a fairytale — he kept being shocked that he could recognise the buildings as the train came in, and it sounded the same as it had before the war. The back of his throat began to ache, though he wasn’t sure why, but before he could focus on that his mother was calling his name and hugging him. Had she been there the whole time? She gave him a kiss on the cheek and led him to everyone else — there was Shoshie, who grinned at him and then prompted the child hiding behind her legs to greet his Feter Itzik. While the nephew he’d never met hid his face in her skirt, his father embraced him with a decidedly gruff, “Son.”

And at last there was Moishe, his smile twisted by the scarring on his face. He looked like he understood the slight bewilderment that must have shown on his face. “Glad they let you go eventually,” he said, slapping him on the back. He spoke into his right ear, probably noticing that Issac had turned so he could hear the people in front of him more clearly with it. 

“Yeah,” Issac said, not trusting himself to say anything else lest he start crying. 

“See, he’s not scary, Dovid,” Shoshie said, having coaxed his nephew out in front of her. “Say hello.”

“Hello Feter,” he said at last. “Why don’t you have a face like Feter Moishe?”

“Dovid!” Shoshie said.

Moishe shot Issac a grin. For the first time in too long, Issac laughed.

[yridenergyridenergy]

Hi. I have a question 🙂 You must have been to many concerts of diru. At least that's the impression I get from Your posts and replies. You probably also attended VIP meetings. Besides, I already asked You about them and You helped me understand what they look like. You wrote that diru wouldn't be able to keep any of the gifts because of their luggage. Yes You are right. I see. But I would like to ask if they would accept the letter? Do You have such experience? Have You seen that they keep letters, cards, something similar from fans during the meeting? I would really like to write a letter. I think I need to get my emotions out. Please don't take me for a haunted fan, it's possible that my comments are intrusive under photos or gifs, but I allow myself to do so because diru don't see it and I like to admire them together with someone 😁 I do not know if You understand me? My letter will not be a love letter, but rather a thank you letter. I've had a very hard 3 years behind me and thanks to their music I haven't fallen to pieces. What do You think? I know You don't know what it will be like in Europe, no one really knows, but maybe You have some advice for me? If You find my question trivial, please ignore it. I've been thinking too much lately🙃

I apologise for the delay in answering your question. I was actively seeking an answer directly from the band, but while they swiftly replied to my email, they redirected me to their European management group, Twisted Talent. I sent two chasers, even calling them once in Dortmund only to land on some dude's voicemail, but alas, I don't have an official answer.

To be fair, I haven't attended many VIP Meet & Greets myself, and it certainly has been a decade. Based on my experience, the band members turned to either a manager or the translator to have someone explain to the fan that they coud not accept their gift.

I'm not sure why the band would defer to their overseas management to determine if gifts of any kind would be accepted...

Anyway, I encourage you to try to contact Twisted Talent yourself. Hopefully somebody will provide an official answer before March.

[drabbles-mc]

Accidentally becoming pen pals with Juice during his 14 month sentence and eventually visiting him?

Please say ANYTHING about this! 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

You send me this at midnight when I should be going to sleep so I can do both my jobs tomorrow???? Criminal activity 😂 (Also when you say 14 months I'm assuming you mean the Stockton stint from canon when all the guys went in. That's what I'm basing this off of)

The first time he gets an envelope slipped into his cell, he's confused. He's about to call the guard back and say they must've dropped this off to the wrong person, but they were already speeding off to the next thing, and really, mail mixups weren't their main concerns.

He was about to just toss it in the trash when he figured, "Why not at least give it a read?"

When he finished reading it, he had no idea who the letter was originally supposed to go to. You hadn't mentioned any names at all, so he couldn't even try to get it to the right person. You seemed so curious, though, in whoever this person was. He could tell just from the way you asked your questions that you really cared about the answers. He wished that someone out there cared enough to try and get to know him like that, inside or outside of the prison walls. So, while he knew that he probably shouldn't, he wrote you back.

He was honest, saying that he accidentally ended up with your letter and didn't know who it was supposed to be going to. He knew that the chances of you responding were slim to none. But it still felt good to write, to talk about himself and his thoughts and imagine that someone actually cared enough to read them.

Even if he didn't want to admit it, he was anxiously waiting for a reply from you, one he knew might never come. But he hoped that it would. He hoped he said the right things to make you wanna write back.

And then you did. Another letter got dropped to him. The same handwriting, thr same humor and interest. He didn't know what you looked like or sounded like, but he pictured you as someone kind, and funny. You didn't seem fazed by the fact that your letter ended up in the wrong hands, either.

That went on for weeks. Then for months. Letter after letter going back and forth. Neither of you knew what the other looked like, but you knew each other's entire life stories. He told you about growing up in Queens, in return you told him ridiculous stories about you and your family. He talked about the club, vaguely of course, but there was no way for him to talk about himself without talking about his brothers.

Then, at the end of one letter, he read, "Would I ever be able to come visit you? I feel like I know you and I haven't even met you."

And he froze. Because of course he wanted to meet you. But what if he didn't measure up to whatever idea of him you'd built in your head? He enjoyed his written exchanges with you so much, he didn't want to ruin and lose that because he couldn't deliver in-person. But he also didn't think that he could go his whole life without ever seeing you, without knowing who you were. So, he said yes.

He never went to the room for visitors. No one had ever visited him before. He was jittery, and truthfully he almost bailed and asked to go back to his cell when the door opened and you walked through. You hadn't even introduced yourself to him yet but the second you two laid eyes on each other he just knew. And suddenly he didn't feel so jittery anymore.

(Also later when he gets stabbed he most certainly keeps your letters with him while he's laid up. He's convinced that reading them over and over again speeds up his healing process. But he doesn't tell you that he's writing from the infirmary.)

[timeforsomethrillingheroicsblog]

ask a reader: B8, C3, D2, D7

B8: Is there a show or a book that you gave up on that you went back to later? Why did you come back to it?

Already answered here! TLDR; I can't think of one but I'm sure they exist!

C3: Is there anything that makes you nope out of a story? What is it?

I'll be honest it really depends on what mood I'm in and how invested I am in a particular fandom/pairing. For example, in larger fandoms with a lot of content, I am sometimes incredibly picky about word choice/writing style because I know I can afford to be.

In smaller fandoms I'm so happy that anyone's bothered to write at all, I want to consume all the content there is.

Probably the only thing that consistently makes me nope out of stories is when I start reading and realize the author is character-bashing to a severe degree. I don't mean like, making a character slightly more unlikeable than canon. I'm talking "have this character doing something they would absolutely never do under any circumstances" because the author has a death grudge.

It doesn't matter if it's a character I like or actively hate that's being bashed, it takes me completely out of the story.

D2: Who/Where did you get your last fic rec from?

I actually can't remember the last rec I got! I usually find fanfiction by searching through a pairing or fandom I'm interested in, reading a couple of the top stories when sorted by kudos that look interesting, and then if I like them going to the author's page and finding more of their stories (or bookmarks) and rinse and repeating until I've filled my craving for that particular fandom.

Once I'm caught up with Lost I'd love fic recs though! Or, if people know of fics they'd recommend that don't cover content past season one - I'd love recs now!

D7: Why did you leave your most recent comment? Will you share it with us?

I typically clean out my inbox once I have read/replied to things, so I can't guarantee they were actually the last (is there a way to look up your comments on ao3 if they haven't been replied to/aren't linked to a parent comment in your inbox?), but the last comments I have a strong memory of leaving were on a fic that hadn't been updated in about two years.

I don't remember exactly what I said across these comments, but I went into it knowing it was likely abandoned. I started the story way too late at night and couldn't put it down. Each chapter was beautiful. So beautiful, that even though I knew it was likely the author wouldn't be checking their account at this point I started leaving comments. Just small things I liked, or big things that broke my heart or made me laugh. And then, as I started getting near the end of what had been published, I started reading the comments too because I wanted to know how everyone else had reacted to what I was just now reading for the first time. And the comments were terrible. Just people repeatedly and rudely asking when the author would update their story. Pages and pages of single sentence replies saying "IT'S BEEN A YEAR, UPDATE!"

And I thought about how awful it felt when I abandoned a work because I couldn't figure out how to finish it, lost interest in the fandom, or had writing block, and had people demanding something from me I did for fun in my free time. How it made me never want to touch the story again.

So at four in the morning, after staying up and reading in a single night something that had taken at least a year of the author's life considering the publishing dates, I decided "fuck it." And wrote them a love letter. Basically just saying I went into the story knowing it would likely never be finished, and I felt so grateful to have been allowed on the ride they invented. That it was so kind to publish something that I could escape into without asking for anything in return. I told them I was subscribing just in case, but I was so happy with what I had gotten and I wasn't expecting anything more.

The author never replied, but the story was updated again a few days later. I have no idea if I contributed at all to them coming back to something they loved, or if they even read any of my comments at all, but it's nice to think maybe I had a small part in making a writing experience slightly less terrible for someone.

Ask A Reader Questions 💖

[koulakoukoula2003]

Hiii im an avid reader of your erwin x oc fic and i just wanna say.... i know petra is just a side character here but I can't help but feel bad about her :( she may be a jealous bitch here but levi's confession to erwin about choosing nathalie over petra just broke my heart for petra and my overthinking masochist brain has been thinking of scenarios like petra overhearing the conversation and when theyll be back in the hq she's gonna give levi the engagement ring back and just disappear in his life forever without saying anything like she just goes straight to his office, look at him in the eyes while giving him a painful smile and handing the engagement ring and a letter of resignation maybe then leaves without a word like a scene wherein petra realizes that she will never have a chance against nathalie even if levi isn't in nathalie's life anymore and she decides to give up because the pain is too much already or like after Levi's confession to erwin about choosing nat, levi noticed that petra overheard the conversation and petra ran off immediately and something bad happened to petra in the mission and when rounding up casualties, Levi asked some officer maybe about his squad then he was informed that petra is dead and i dont know how levi should feel like im such a sucker for tropes like petra and maybe levi will realize Petra's worth once she's gone and she is or maybe not or i dont know hahaha sorry im just rambling and wallowing about my angsty scenarios for petra 😂

lmao anon, i wrote a huge reply to this and tumblr fucked me up and i lost all of it snnkjehiwujogds TUMBLR, FIX YOUR FUCKING GLITCHES FFS YOUR PROGRAMMERS SUCK

ahem pls ignore me

OMG ANON, FIRST OF, TYSM FOR READING MY FIC!!! (I thank my readers all the time in case you haven't noticed eheheh)

And second, your ideas are AMAZING, honestly I was going to do exactly as you said, she overhears Levi’s confession to Erwin.

“I will forever choose Nathalie over Petra.”

Damnnnn, I bet y’all think he’s way out of character and he kinda is. I mean he would never hurt or use a woman like that. Using Petra while thinking of someone else? That’s not Levi at all. He is a respectful man and he would love his woman to the fullest.

But here, he is so convinced that he loves Nathalie when it’s not really love, he’s actually obsessed with Nathalie. He’s convinced that she’s the only one for him but that’s only because she was his first and the multiverse (long story short) this fic is part of my Multiverse of SNK idea.

So, this fic is a parallel universe to another fic of mine BHSL (a Nathalie x Levi slow burn) and let’s just say that an anomaly happened in the multiverse (it’s a long story, anon, you don’t need to know about it), and Levi from BBSF (the Erwin x Nathalie fic) is sharing emotions and memories from Levi in BHSL. So, the feelings that Levi has for Nat in this fic, they’re not actually his own. I was thinking that maybe, just maybe he actually loves Petra.

I know snk fans are masochistic af and you’d probably love for me to engage in angst and drama and heartbreaks LMFAO but hear me out, I had this idea of what happens with those two so that they can be happy (it’s a fix it fic after all).

As you said, Petra overhears Levi’s confession and she gets sad and mad af and she throws herself in battle to die. After Levi deals with the Beast, he finds her, lying in the battlefield, dying and bleeding and he panics. He literally panics. He kneels down and he pulls her in his arms and she’s crying.

She’s crying, she’s a mess because this man doesn’t love her. She was going to die and she was never going to find out how it feels to be loved by Levi. So, she cups his cheek and looks up at him and she makes him that final question that wants answered so desperately before she dies.

“Do you think, you could have ever loved me… as much as you love… her?”*

Oof that past tense hurts here a lot, because she’s talking about something that could’ve happened, but it never did because she’s dying now. Maybe deep down she has lost all hope and maybe she knows that she never really stood a chance in claiming his heart, but she just has to know. Maybe if he at least made his feelings towards her clear before her death, it would give her some peace.

And, please, now I want you to imagine Levi panicking and losing his calm entirely. This stoic man who watches friends die and kills people without a spec of emotion showing – now he’s at the verge of insanity. He’s slowly coming to realise that he actually loves Petra. Did she have to die for him to figure out it? Yes. He took her for granted. He won’t realise it if this scene doesn’t happen.

So, he brings her closer and he’s pressing down on her wound, as hard as he can because he needs time. He has wasted her time with her so much, being obsessed over another woman that would never feel the same for him. Imagine the self-loathing and the regret, the guilt he’s feeling right now. Now that he’s realising he loves her, it’s way too fucking late.

“No…” he says and she weeps but he’s wiping away her tears and he holds her closer and for the first time in her life, she’s seeing tears in those argent eyes she had grown to adore “…I could have loved you so much more.”*

Here’s the past tense again. Something that could have happened – he could have loved her but he never did, he never got the second chance he wanted because she died in his arms and he would forever hate himself for it. For hurting her, using her, making her a mere replacement when deep down he knew he was a mess without her.

BUT as I said, this is a fix it fic AHAHAHAH SO this is where the angst ends (my apologies eheheh), but remember those three serums that Nathalie made? The ones that heal all wounds???? Yeah, Levi kept one, Hange kept the second one (which they used on Moblit), and Nathalie hid the third one in her bag (that she eventually used to save Erwin).

Levi doesn’t know if it will work. He doesn’t care if someone needs it. He’ll use it on her and he’s going to save her life. She remains unconscious for a couple of days because she’s lost blood, but she survives and maybe they don’t break up. Maybe Levi snaps out of it, and he actually, finally lets their relationship become healthy and happy.

Honestly, I’m not actively a Rivetra shipper (but that’s only cuz it hurts too much and I’m a fucking wimp LMAO) and this fic is an Erwin x OC not a Rivetra fic and that’s why all the rivetra is wayyyyy back in the background (you reminded me with this ask to actually mention them in a scene because it’s been seven chapters and I’ve forgotten about them LMFAO) BUT I SHOULD DEF write this angsty scene as a flashback or a bonus/filler chapter or a oneshot.

But first, I need to get my shit together and stop being lazy and actually write shit LMFAO

TYSM FOR READING MY FIC (yes im repeating myself pls ignore) send me another ask to let me know whether you like this idea of mine or not, cuz I know you want pain, anon, and if you ask for it, I’ll deliver it and they’ll never get their happy ending MUAHAHAHAHAH

I could very nicely have her breaking their engagement and disappearing for (let’s say) four years (ehehehehe) and next time Levi sees her, she has a cute little four-year-old with silver eyes and black hair in her arms EEEHEHEHEHEHE or he could find her working in a brothel in the underground (MORE DRAMAAA) or she could be married to some other man that she doesn’t love (MUAHAHAHA) or she could be dead cuz she committed suicide and he finds out it’s because of him

Lmao, u got many choices, anon, pick whichever you like and lemme know!

*(lmao I used those lines first in a Vincent Valentine x OC fic of mine, go read it 🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫)

[dollypardonne]

[ PAST ]:     a letter which the writer wrote in the past, that reveals a piece of their backstory, that the reader finds and reads out of curiosity. ( could be from rowan?? Haru?? Anyone!!

i don't know what got me writing this but i read this passage a bit ago, about becoming the thing that you want. about gestures to others you would want done for you and at the very least becoming the exact person that you want around in spite of maybe not finding your people in the end. maybe you knew this about me, not that there would ever be a moment to mention it, but i have an itch to write periodically and it tends to be poems. that's not what you're getting here just to clarify. still, i figured i could start here, by writing you a letter. figured the people who've known me for ages should be leading the queue.

by saying all this, i want to be clear about what privilege this is. if it helps, think of what i would look like while saying this face to face with you. that's not an attempt to boast because i'm just some guy. in hindsight, everything written here is just whatever's coming to mind in real time and there's not an existing point to get across. i had no goals set when i started writing. but you've been in my life for who knows how long. you may as well have been a childhood friend. i suppose i owe you this, if anything.

i miss you.

yes, i said it. i can picture you being in awe reading that because hey, rowan's supply of three letter words doesn't include i's and you's. but i'm sure you know how i feel half the time. the things that i never say. at least i hope that i'm able to express it in other ways. that said, you probably already know i'm grateful for you. it hurt at the time, everything that you did. from blacklisting me to... well, going cold turkey on me... fuck. writing that down is a little upsetting. me and my grudges, i'm nothing without it. but i get it, really. i wouldn't have ever gotten to where i am if it wasn't for that. the end justifies the means. something like that. tapering off was excruciating. many times i seriously considered aid-in-dying. but i'm 2 years sober this week. we haven't spoken much recently but you're the first person that i thought of. give yourself a pat on the back.

if this reaches you, i don't know. you could reply. you don't have to. i know wherever you are, it's where you want to be. i reckon i'll hear from you when it makes sense to. until then, stay goated.

cheers, rowe

[lipstickstainz]

true lies - s. r. (12/?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Series Summary: Spencer is furious, when you rejoin the team after a year and after you left him, when he got arrested. Little does he know, that you leaving him was the only option to ever get him out of prison.

Chapter Summary: A collection of letters Spencer and you share while you're gone - and then you're gone forever. At least, that what he thinks.

Warnings: some fluff, angst, angst, angst, smoking, slight ptsd, grief and loss

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I'm sososososo sorry. please don't hate me. I love you. gif not mine.

Series Masterlist

previous part

Dearest little bear,

two months have passed since you had to leave, and not a day goes by that I don't think of you and wish you were here with me.

We are trying to do everything in our power to be able to bring you back home. But unfortunately, it seems to be taking longer than I would like.

I was told you were working on it as well. You are strong and smart and even though you can't be with me, I'm sure we can do it together.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest Neruda,

I was very happy to receive your message. I always carry it with me, although I would rather be in your arms, but I can't.

I can't tell you where I am right now, but still I wish you were with me. It is warm and beautiful and I am sure you would like it here very much.

Except for these letters, I'm not allowed to talk to any of you, but I like talking to you best anyway. We've come this far. And we'll make it.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

-

Dearest little bear,

It's been four months and with each passing second it becomes more unbearable. But a light is appearing at the end of the dark tunnel. We think we know who she is.

It won't be long before we can see each other again. And I can't wait to be able to hug you again. To be able to touch you. Or kiss you.

Not much longer. And then nothing can separate us.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest Neruda,

It would have been too good to be with you again at last. But it still takes time.

I have found something that can help us, but for now, just know that I will do everything I can so that I can return home. Back to you. No matter what it costs.

Keep your eyes open. We're closer than you think.

I'm thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

-

Dearest little bear,

I was given time off to take a break. I was with my mother and she told me that a kind young lady had been here. She doesn't remember you, but she knows you are familiar and that she can trust you. As I do.

I am infinitely grateful. And I'm tired of waiting, but for you I do. For you, I do it all.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest Neruda,

I can no longer grasp a clear thought, because whenever I close my eyes I see everything I have done in review. I can hardly sleep and the nightmares plague me.

I just hope that everything will end soon. It has already been a year since we saw each other. I can't promise you anything, but I hope you know that everything I had to do was for you. For us.

Thinking of you.

With love,

little bear

-

Dearest little bear,

it's been a few weeks since I've heard from you. I hope you are doing well.

We have found a trail that will take us further.And brings me a little closer to you. And that will bring you back home. I can't wait.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

It's been two months since you wrote to me.

Get back to me as soon as you can.

Take care of yourself.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

Words cannot describe how much I miss you. Or how great the pain in my chest is.

I can't eat, I can't sleep. I can hardly breathe without you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

they hung your picture today. In the portrait you are smiling, proud to finally be part of the team. I can't look at it.

I was sent home, but everything there reminds me of you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

I keep your letters in a small box next to my bed. They are a part of you that I don't want to lose, even though I have already lost you. They are a part of you, just as you are a part of me.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dearest little bear,

I went to our bookstore and found a book of poems that you would like. I'll put it with your letters.

No book in the world could have prepared me for the grief I feel. The pain is too engaging for me to talk about it with anyone but you.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dear little bear,

it's been almost two years since we last saw each other. I don't remember what you sound like, or what you smell like. Why can't I remember that? Is it wrong of me not to think it's bad? It takes away my pain a little.

Thinking of you.

With love,

Neruda

-

Dear little bear,

A lot has happened in the two years we've been apart. Too much to ever be able to write down all the things. I just want you to know that this time was not easy for me. Not for any of us.

I put your letters away safely because you will always be important to me. But I have to let you go. And with this, I release you.

I love you. Forever.

With love,

Neruda

-

You pinch your leg to wake up. Your neck is wet with cold sweat and you have to blink several times to realize that you are in a cab. You run your hand through your hair as the driver looks at you curiously through the rearview mirror. He says nothing, which is why you glance out the window.

The drive from the airport to Quantico only takes an hour, but you still take the opportunity to close your eyes for a moment and doze a little. You haven't had a decent night's sleep in ages, you don't even know what a healthy portion of sleep feels like anymore, because you haven't had that luxury in the last two years.

As the car comes to a stop in front of the FBI building, you pay the driver and get out with your small bag. The building seems much bigger than you remember. You used to spend every day here, it had once been your home. But now you're not even sure you have a home anymore.

You take a deep breath and enter through the large doors, but are directly approached by a security guard.

"Miss? Are you visiting?", he asks suspiciously, extending his arm to keep you at a distance - something that wouldn't do him much good if you were actually trying to get past him.He eyes you up and down, which you can't blame him for. In your ripped jeans, dirty sneakers, and loose sweater, you don't look like someone who belongs here. By now, you don't either.

You look at him. "I'm here to see Unit Chief Prentiss", you reply coolly. You know he's just doing his job, but you're too impatient to let all this wash over you. You know Emily is already in the office. You know her too well not to. Why doesn't he just go get her? You just want to see your friend.

"Chief Prentiss?" He raises an eyebrow. "And what is your request?"

Your gaze is rock hard and your tone cold as ice. "Tell her Y/N Y/L/N is here to see her."

You wait outside the building, letting the morning sun warm your skin and the cigarette burn between your fingers before you put it to your lips and take a drag. Afterwards, you stub it out on a trash can. As you exhale the last bit of smoke, you turn around. And there she is.

Emily is standing at the door, and when you see her, you drop your bag and wrap her in your arms so tightly that you can't breathe. You cling to her, afraid that maybe this whole thing isn't as real as it feels, but you imperceptibly pinch your arm. And she is still with you.

"I thought - they said", she stammers, and it's the first time in your friendship that she's speechless. You hug her even tighter.

"I know", you answer softly, blinking away the tears that have formed in your eyes. The moment is too beautiful to cry. As you break away from each other, Emily wipes her own tears from her cheeks, but some have already landed on her blouse. There are dark stains now.

"I don't even know what to say", she says, smiling at you as you enter the building together. The guard gives you a look, but doesn't ask any questions as you walk past him toward the elevator. Inside, she pushes a button that takes you to the BAU floor. "I can hardly believe you're really here."

Neither can you.

The office is completely silent because no one is here yet except for you. Although nothing has changed, everything has changed because you are now someone else. It's been a long time since you've been here. Two years, but everything in this room is all too familiar to you. The coffee machine, the law books, the files. It feels like you've never been away. It's déjà vu all over again.

While Emily gets you both coffee, you sit down at the round table and wait for her. Your friend sets the cups down on the table before sitting down next to you. She smiles faintly. "How are you?"

You pucker your mouth. How are you? You haven't been asked that question in ages, and to be honest, you don't know how to answer it either. How could you possibly be?

When you don't answer Emily, she phrases her question differently. "What are you feeling right now?"

Your lips become a thin line. "I don't know. It feels like all of this," you point to the room, "isn't a part of me anymore. Nothing has changed, but it still feels foreign."

Emily nods. "You've been through a lot, I guess." She takes a sip of her coffee. "You're right, Y/N. Nothing has really changed here. But you're a different one now, aren't you?"

You open your mouth to answer her, but you don't know what either. Part of you feels at home here, but a bigger part of you knows your place is somewhere else. You just don't know where exactly.

"Do you want to see the others?", Emily asks. "I'm asking you because it's been a long time since you've seen them. And they think you're...you know. Are you ready for that?"

Are you ready for that? You haven't seen either of them in a long time, and it would probably be better not to see them for now, but to let Emily sort it out first. But the team is your family - the closest thing you have to a family. And you've missed them all terribly.

You nod and take a sip of your coffee as JJ and Rossi enter the room. When they see you, they glance uncertainly at Emily, as if they're not sure if it's just imagination, but she nods at them. And that's when all the dams break for JJ.

She pulls you from your chair and hugs you like the salvation of the world depends on it, and David has to pry her cramped arms from you so he can put his around you as well. They affirm to you how much they missed you and ask how you are, wanting to know what happened, but Tara and Penelope join them and that's when it gets too loud for you.

Penelope cries with joy and Tara also can't believe that you are standing in front of her. They besiege you and ask you questions to which you have no answers, so you just smile weakly at them. They definitely don't mean any harm, after all, you've just risen from the dead for them, but you've spent the last while in silence and are no longer used to this volume. So you turn away from them. They look anxiously after you as you sort of flee from them. You hope that this will make the headache go away.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you find yourself facing the wall where the pictures of the deceased agents hang. And yours is hanging there, too. You don't know how long you've been standing in front of it - minutes? hours? -until a familiar voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Y/N?"

You turn around and there stands Spencer. His hair is a little shorter and he looks like he's seen a ghost. Well, he sort of has.

You want to throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, and never let him go. Seeing him knocks the air out of your lungs, which is why you can barely breathe. The two years without him had been hell on earth, but you got through them. For him.

For Spencer, who doesn't take his eyes off you as the blonde woman next to him, whose fingers are intertwined with his, looks at him and asks, "Honey, who's that?"

- tags -

@obsssedwithjustaboutanything // @ashwarren32 // @slytherinbth // @rexorangecouny // @candlemouse // @lexymoniqu // @m3sml // @username2002 // @calliecookie // @haylaansmi // @thehuntresswolf // @skyslowalking // @padsfirewhisky // @criminalminds4days // @criminallyoddsocks // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @vladsgirlxx // @justdianaz // @x2moonlight2x-blog // @countingthestarsinfinitely // @box-of-fandom-stuff // @sergeantbuckybarnes // @princesssmooshie // @sassiest-politician // @ littledm2000 // @a-broken-pact // @strawberry-tea // @sassy-hades // @danrad-rdj4ever // @takeyourleap-of-faith // @smell-my-twisted-shadows // @poeticsassandtrash // @wintrrrsoldier // @peaceluvnirvana // @jemimah-b99 // @lokislilslut // @advicefromnixxxx // @panicattheeverywherekid // @my-guilty-pleasures--of-life // @itsdars @pjmjams // @imagine-this-motherfucker // @sasbb23 // @fivedicksinatrenchcoat // @missyoumaybank // @blameitonthenight21 // @s-r-16 // @knee-coall // @hamlewis // @twodirtymindedgirls // @peoplejustcanthandlemywierdness // @imdefinitelyfloating // @crazyloca06 // @gardenroses1 // @saspencereid // @enchantedlove90 // @sizzlingclamturtlesludge // @moondustmemories // @bambi-is-my-name // @beg0neth0t420 // @william-shookespeare // @pancake2603 // @ayo-cowbelly // @herbstmelody // @frnks-stuff // @mimischaos // @lilxnvm // @archiveofadragon // @burnin-passion // @oddobsessionbutotay // @chaoticdreamsss // @ghostly-ginger // @knittingstudyblr // @gorbagreb // @biafbunny // @ayo-cowbelly // @ellyseveronica // @saspencereid // @takethee // @ethereal-stark // @shirayuki1204 // @spencerreidspp // @jesuswasnotawhiteman // @stinkykay // @exzidss // @ifuckinghatepinapples // @youhaveabadconnection // @kaseyjohnson04 // @vampiracontessa // @princesssmooshie // @gardenroses1 // @r0s3mm // @willyoulovemeinthemorning // @rrtxcmt // @softpeteparker // @littleiswhattheycallme // @hoeyadoingbitch // @emmariexx // @oops-all-ajs / @reidemandweep // @oliwisstephhh // @g0lden-cth // @measure-in-pain // @amesandpineapples // @spencerreidat3am //

[ladydaemon]

LETTERS

kaz brekker x female! reader

A/N: Is this really short? Yes. Is it really cringey? Yes. Did I cry when writing it anyway? Absolutely.

Summary: Kaz rereads an old letter from an old friend

Warnings: mentions of former childhood abuse (and a butt-ton of ✨ sadness ✨) ? wow I don't think I swore in this.

Kaz,

This is my last letter to you.

I do not know if you and Jordie are even alive anymore. Maybe you are alive, but no one can find you, and the postman has simply been dumping my letters in the harbor. It's plausible, I suppose. Somehow I doubt it, which means I am writing to a memory. I find I don't care all that much, because writing to someone that will never read what you are writing seems infinitely easier than writing to someone who can. Because ghosts can't really judge you, can they? Otherwise they wouldn't be ghosts.

I'm getting off topic. Forgive me.

This is my last letter to you, because I'm tired of trying. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. If you are actually alive and you can read this, you probably don't care much, given that you haven't replied to five years' worth of ramblings.

Oh, this sounded much better in my head - I hadn't meant it to sound so accusing. Perhaps there's good reason for your… absence.

Back to my point (my, I love rambling, don't I? I remember you and Jordie teasing me about it).

This is my last letter to you, so I suppose it should be filled with heartfelt farewell.

Though I really don't know what I'm supposed to say. You're probably much different than how I remember you - why, tomorrow is your birthday, isn't it? You'll be turning fifteen (and to think I'd almost forgotten!). Six years since I've last seen you.

You know I've always been sentimental, so I'm going to list all things I remember of nine-year-old Kaz. I wonder how much you've changed.

I remember hair that never stayed in place. Eyes that twinkled mischievously whenever you plotted some elaborate prank. I think I remember you loving pumpkin pie. I definitely remember you standing up to my father defiantly when he had hit me. After that, your family had taken me in. I remember being scared, and confused when no one yelled at me or hit me when I did something wrong - I was so used to my father's cruelty, that I hadn't realized it wasn't normal.

He's dead now, though, so it doesn't do me any good to think about him anymore, does it?

I remember trying to learn Zemeni, giggling when we misgendered the nouns, taking sips of hot cocoa to reward ourselves when we got a sentence right (why were we trying to learn, again? I forgot, and for some reason, the realization saddens me). I remember eating cherries while we climbed on the roof of the barn and watched the sunset in the summer. When we were seven, you got to carve the turkey on Ghezen's Day - your smile that day I don't think I could forget if I tried.

I remember quite a bit, and yet so little, and I'm beginning to realize that I miss you dearly, and by saying goodbye to you in a letter I'll never get a response for seems like giving up on you and Jordie.

I've been writing these letters for so long now, yet I never tire of it, and I think I know why (though maybe not - my emotions are everywhere). At first, I think they were a coping mechanism, trying to deal with everyone around me dying, but I think now that they were a subconscious plea.

To come home.

I know that you've probably forgotten about me, and if you haven't, you're probably trying to, but there's no harm in asking, right? Kaz (Jordie, if you're reading this), I want you to come home - I don't care if you don't talk to me, or you hate me, or you destroy everything I own. I don't care if you come and then leave the next morning, because it's been so long that I've begun to think you were just a figment of my imagination. I don't care if you come back and you don't recognize me, or I don't recognize you.

I just want you to come home.

Oh, who am I kidding. You won't, if you haven't already. I suppose it's one last plea, a desperate last attempt.

Goodbye, Kaz Rietveld (and Jordie, if you're reading this!).

This is my last letter to you.

Oh, how dearly I miss you.

Your former friend,

Y/N L/N

~

Kaz ran his fingers over the worn edges of the letter, dated two years ago. It was beginning to fade, the cheap ink smudging where Y/N had crossed out lines that were barely legible. Coffee stains and frayed, torn edges showed how many times that letter was read, from the first time it had arrived to now.

He had that letter memorized - he could recite it forwards and backwards and in his sleep.

If you are actually alive and you can read this, you probably don't care much, given that you haven't replied to five years' worth of ramblings.

He had every letter she had written him, ever since he had heard the postman complaining about delivering letters from a poor girl to a nonexistent boy. Such things weren't entirely uncommon, but Kaz had been bored and he had inquired as to the name of the nonexistent boy. Afterwards, he had received all her letters, read them, but never replied to Y/N, could never bring himself to.

You're probably much different than how I remember you.

Maybe that was part of the reason he never wrote a letter of his own - because he wanted her to remember him as human, as something with a soul and a heart and a family. Not a monster, with a body count and a limp and a façade of stone and steel.

I think I remember you loving pumpkin pie.

He had loved pumpkin pie, once. His mother had made it for them. But that was when he still had a mother.

He's dead now, though.

Kaz couldn't say he was sorry to hear it - even now, he hated the man with a fierce passion, rivaling that of his hate for Pekka Rollins. He remembered finding out what he had been doing to Y/N, and his tiny chest had filled with white-hot, pulsing rage.

Why were we trying to learn, again? I forgot.

Kaz's father had been trying to haggle with a Zemeni trader one night, but couldn't speak the language. He and Y/N had vowed to learn the language, a promise that had lasted exactly three days before they had realized just how hard it was to learn a new language.

When we were seven, you got to carve the turkey on Ghezen's Day - your smile that day I don't think I could forget if I tried.

It was strange indeed, how similar yet different that same memory was for him - he remembered that night because of how happy she had looked. It had been her first Ghezen's Day without her father, and she had later described the day as magical.

I just want you to come home.

She didn't really, Kaz knew with certainty. She wanted Kaz Rietveld, not Kaz Brekker, and Kaz Rietveld was dead. Y/N wanted the boy who drowned in the harbor with his brother.

[paleangels13]

✏️🌈🌾 🎨

Thank you ☺️💖

✏️ The first fanfiction you ever wrote? (doesn’t have to be a posted fic)

A Borussia Dortmund/BVB (German soccer team) fic, pairing Own Female Character(s) x Player(s). Had 197 chapters i think and was posted on Instagram (because that's apparently what you did in 2014...post on ig and wattpad :')). But they were short chapters, I still wrote around 1 1/2 years or 2 years on it 🤔 (I think in 'normal'/average chapter length (like... Up to 2000 words?) it would probably have 80+ chapters?).

I'm very much cringing about it now but the feedback back then was really good soo... Idk different times 😂😭

🌈 Your favorite tropes to write about?

Already answered here

🌾 A fic you really want to write but you haven’t (yet)?

Ohh, I kinda answered that here when I answered the question about ideas I haven't done anything with but let me just put a few from my "really wanna write" list here:

Pole dancer AU (characters, etc are fully planned out just gotta start writing...which I've been telling myself for 3 months now...)

Escort AU (which I already started quite a while ago but had to put it on hold because I struggled to continue from where I left it and have to overthink it again)

Joonas the tourist guide

Third part of the toxic series

Quite a few angsty/dark fics from my chat with @bc-sideblog :DD

A Joel/Johnny/Aleksi/Robin one because I'm a mess but I won't spoiler anything (might be part of the same universe as my "baby if I let you in (...)" fic)

One involving a blindfold 👀

Someone wearing a corset and platform boots 🥰

Someone else (not Joel this time) wearing a dress ✨😌

... Way too many more :))

🎨 Show us a sneak peek from a WIP!

Ohh... I didn't know which one to choose from... ☹️

I think I'll give you two snippets because I don't even know if I'll ever finish the first one even tho I really, really want to 🥺

Sooo (not beta read or anything) under the cut because it got quite long (and well spoilers)...

Escort AU:

He had uploaded a morning picture to his, well, adult website and was curious to see if there had been any comments so far. It was the usual stuff: "pretty boy", "mind turning a bit more next time? ;)", "oh, I sure would like to join you in the shower. We could have some fun while we're at it". Aleksi huffed and shook his head. One comment caught his attention though. To be fair, it wasn't an actual comment, just a bunch of random letters and numbers. He raised an eyebrow and clicked on the notification to reply something: "I take it my pic got you a little excited, sweetheart? Hope you had fun 💋". The young man chuckled a little and put his phone back on the sink before focusing on getting ready. It didn't really matter if his suspicion was correct or not, he knew most people subscribed to his account to get pics and possibly videos they could use to get off, what about it? That was kind of the point, right? So he didn't actually mind or think about it too much. It is what it is, and he enjoyed knowing what effect he had on some guys. 

Mhh...Tommi taking care of Joel 👀🥰:

Not even an hour had passed, yet the table was now filled with more than two empty drinks, mainly beer, and Joel was a tint drunker than he had originally planned.

“We should go to bed.”

“Mhh…”

His gaze flickered over to the drummer, rising from the sofa and his head unwantedly reminded him – very vividly – of how long he had not had sex. Well, technically that wasn't entirely correct. Joonas had given him a blowjob in the bathroom backstage not so long ago. Very blurred he also remembered that something had happened between himself and Niko, but that was already weeks ago. But this wasn't what he had in mind. If he had wanted a quick fuck while being the top, he only needed to ask their guitarist, who'd undoubtedly be happy to help with that. No, he wanted to be driven mad by someone, wanted that person to help him relax a bit and forget about the troubles of the past few days. Oh, and how perfectly the drummer seemed to fit into this role right now. Joel took the hand that Tommi held out for him, and stood up. He shook his head over his own thoughts. This was bullshit. His thoughts were blurred by the alcohol he had consumed and the fact that he hadn't had sex in a while probably didn't help either. He wouldn't sleep with the taller one. Definitely not!

[msilwrites]

(A 3AM Update) A True Gentleman, Chapter 21 - A jealous husband?

A/N: Chapter 21 is up! Isaac confronts Diana, like a jealous husband! By the way, Henry, Diana's cousin face claim is 'Henry Cavill', and Sam McLean's face claim is Sam Heughan.

Oh, before I forget, if you don't like the story, please do move on to others, the internet has lots of them. Please don't hurt writers, ya? Good! so without further ado...

TWENTY-ONE

A jealous husband

"Diana!" her cousin, Henry approaches her. "That was a stellar performance!" he compliments.

Every time Henry and she are seen together, people often mistake them for siblings. The blue cold eyes, thick eyebrows, strong jawline, and dark hair were the signature that belonged to their family.

"Thank you, Henry!" was her grateful reply. "But I know why you are here for, go and lead the way!" she says, as he leads her to where her father sat. She knew what Henry approached her for. It was time for her father's interrogation and lengthy sermon.

Francis watched Henry, followed by Diana, approaching him where he sat.

"Relax Uncle..." Henry says, as he taps his uncle's shoulder, telling him to listen instead of scolding Diana. He then walks away to give the two space.

He took a deep breath before turning to his daughter. " Why don't you take a seat..." he offers, patting the empty space beside him, which she took.

"First of all, why are you singing at a wedding?" he tried to sound calm instead of being confrontational.

" I was trying to earn money to buy a 3D Printer," was her direct answer.

" Why?"

"I'm trying to build a small workshop studio, and I need a 3d printer..."

"Oh..." Francis was taken aback, he didn't expect his daughter to have such plans. "But what happened to the money you got from the sale of your old penthouse with Jesse?"

"That, I'm keeping it to the side. I plan to use it to buy real estate and most probably have the place rented for passive income. If not, I'll turn it into the workshop studio. I planned to save money, but I think I'd earn more if I were to rent the place out."

His eyes widened in disbelief, was this still the same Diana whom he met a few weeks ago? No! This Diana has ambition, plans and direction. She was actively taking charge of her life. "Wow! I did not expect that... That is actually a good plan"

Diana smiled and just nodded.

"Do you need help?" he offers, sincerely this time, without a hint of being condescending.

"Maybe? From time to time, Thank you! Da!" Diana says gratefully. "Your advice and input would be helpful from time to time" she adds.

"That was a stellar performance by the way!" Francis complements his daughter. " Those wedding songs reminds me of a time when I was..." he said trying to find the word.

"Hopeful? Yes, I did feel the same..." she admits to her father.

Francis sighs. " You know, I really did love your mother. It may have not gone well for the both of us, but not once did I regret loving her,"

Diana looks at her father, surprised at his sudden confession. Not once did her father open up to her about this issue.

"Why?!"

"Why what?"

"Da! She hurt you!" she exclaims.

"Yes, she did... and I may have done things that I shouldn't have, but what happened to us in the past, is what makes us who we are now. We grow and become wiser,"

"I guess you do have a good point..." she agrees. It made her think about her past abusive relationships, and what it thought her. Though it was terrible, it made her learn and it made her wiser.

"So how did you exactly end up here?"

"That's a really long story..."

" We have a lot of time,"

She began her story (omitting some parts of course) and told him about the music director Aedan looking for an alto-soprano which led her to where she is now.

"I see... I am glad you're able to use your classical training, anyways, when is the date of your performance?" he inquired.

"Why?"

"I want to see it of course!" he declares.

**********

"I see trees of green. Red roses too, I see them bloom. For me and you. And I think to myself, What a wonderful world..." Diana opens the dance floor for everyone, with the song 'What a wonderful world'. The strings followed, in harmony with her voice.

Couples, young and old, approached the dance floor and began dancing to the sweet tune.

The night was about to end, and she was grateful that her performance went well. Hopefully, she would also perform well with the orchestra at the outdoor theatre.

"I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do They're really saying I love you..."

She scanned the area and saw her cousin, Henry, being surrounded by girls. She stopped her from rolling her eyes, knowing that he was a known ladies man, even since they were young. On one side was her father who seemed to be enjoying himself, chatting with others. The atmosphere felt jolly that she swore she'd try to catch up with Henry or talk some more with her father after finishing the song.

"I hear babies cry. I watch them grow. They'll learn much more than I'll ever know. And I think to myself... What a wonderful world Yes, I think to myself... What a wonderful world. Ooh, yes I think to myself... What a wonderful world..." and with the last verse, Diana closes the song and the audience applauded. She smiled and thought, that it was still somehow a wonderful world despite everything she had gone through, there was still things she was thankful for.

With a sigh, she gives a toast to the newly married couple, and then turned to the quintet and thanked them, which gained her another set of 'Thank you's coming from them.

She looks around and found the bar, wanting a cold drink, preferably a beer. It's been weeks since she had anything cold and gassy. It wouldn't hurt from time to time to have an ice-cold beer after a long day of singing.

Wasting no time, she requested a pint of ice-cold craft beer on tap from the bar-tender, and he quickly poured her one large pint, its surface bubbling.

"Good job out there, you earned it, enjoy!" the bartender says, before moving to other requests.

"Thanks!" was her response.

She looked around trying to find Henry or her father in the crowd, whilst drinking her glass. However, before she could even make a move. Her father had already gone up to the podium, about to start his 'godfather' speech and before she could even look for Henry, a handsome guy had already sat beside her and tried to engage her in a conversation.

"Hello..." was his greeting, his voice deep. She looked at the colour of his kilt's Tartan, and immediately knew which family he is from.

"Wait! your name is probably something McLean!" she declares.

"Oh! wait, are you a Scott too?! Well, I am Sam McLean..." he said, stretching his hand for a handshake which she gladly took. She felt a little confident today, and talking to a handsome man isn't so bad thing to do to pass the time. Unless he actually is an asshole otherwise. She already has an escape plan.

"You may call me, tonight..." was a flirty yet witty reply from her, causing Sam to laugh. "Or you may address me as, Diana"

"Well, Diana, that was a stellar performance throughout..." he compliments.

"Thank you! I'm glad you like it,"

"You have a very nice voice! So... may I buy you a drink?!" he offers.

"Of course! Or you could get me food since I haven't had my fill yet..." she said sheepishly, not having eaten anything yet.

"Oh! of course! what do you want to eat? I'll get it for you!" he offers.

" Cake" she implores, placing both her hands together as if praying.

"Of course, I'll be right back!" he said, immediately taking a small slice on a plate for her.

"There you go! Enjoy!" he says, pushing the small plate to her.

"Thank You, Sam!" she chuckles at the mention of his name. It was the same as the pseudonym she used when she wrote those 'love' letters to herself. "Thank you. I'd say 'God Bless you!', but it looks like He already did." was her flirtatious reply followed by a wink.

Sam bit his lips and laughed. He didn't know how to respond to that. "Thanks... I guess..." he holds his laughter, and clears her throat, "So Diana, what do you do? Besides singing? "

"I am independently impecunious..." was her answer.

Sam throws his head back laughing, knowing that he had found a hilarious person and the night will definitely not be boring.

"Enough about me, Sam! Let's talk about how attractive you are!" she adds.

Sam takes a deep breath but ended up laughing once again. " You're too funny for words!" However, before he could even say more...

"Sammy, laddie, hands-off! that is my daughter you're flirting with!" Francis chastises Sam from the podium after he finished his speech, causing everyone to turn their attention to Diana and Sam at the bar, upon finding out that she is Francis' daughter.

"Well, nice to meet you Diana!" he says. "Yikes..." and slowly backs away from her. It didn't matter how beautiful she is to him, she was Francis's Rutherford's daughter and there is no way she would want to incur her father's wrath.

"Sam? wait!" she says, perplexed at his sudden change.

**********

"Sam is an international playboy, he isn't the ideal man to date!" Henry says as he fiddled with his phone. Seated beside him inside the car is his cousin Diana, whom he ended up sending back home instead, as his Uncle, Francis, still had to stay at the wedding reception.

"Oho! You're one to talk Henry! " Diana chuckles, knowing her cousin's reputation.

"It can't be helped..." was his response.

"Should I tell the girls who chase after you, the same thing you told me?"

"It won't work... they'll chase after me more!" he declares, and both of them erupted in laughter, including their chauffeur in the front seat of the car, at how true the statement was.

"Well, aren't you afraid I'd chase Sam more?" she asks.

"You won't" was his quick reply.

"Because life has already knocked some sense out of you..." was his confident statement, aware of what Diana had gone through, all those years.

"I guess you're right," she sighs and smiles at herself, turning her attention to the view outside the car, whilst a classical piano rendition of 'Moon River' played inside the vehicle, making it a relaxing atmosphere.

"Lady Rutherford, we're here..." their chauffeur announces, and he gets out of the 'Ghost' to open the car for her.

"Thank you, Higgins!" she says, referring to Henry's chauffeur who opened the car door for her.

Henry followed after, alighting at the other side of the car. "Let me send you to your door..." he offers.

"Yes, walk me there," she says, as Henry walked beside her.

"We should have lunch sometime, eh? It's been a long time since I caught up with you!"

"Yes, we should do that" she agrees.

" If you don't mind, Mum wants to catch up with you too, can she come along?"

"Of course Aunt Minerva is more than welcome! How long has it been?!" she realizes suddenly that she had met her immediately family for years now since she started her relationship with Jesse, that was no longer the case now.

"It's set then" he declares, trying to find a spot inside his phone's calendar. "I'll set the time next weekend..."

"Alright! Well here's my door" she says turning to him to give him a quick hug.

Henry gladly returns her embrace " I'm glad you're in a better place now!" he adds, giving her shoulder a squeeze as an affirmation. "Well, I have to go, I have an early day tomorrow!"

However, before Henry could leave, the door opens to reveal Isaac, glaring at him.

"I'd normally say get a room, but this isn't a hotel" was the first thing Isaac said, the moment he opened the door, and 'caught' Diana, and some man, embracing each other in front of his door.

Henry looked at him puzzled, and when he realized that Isaac got the wrong idea about them, he released Diana from his arms. "Eww..." he grimaced and quickly turns around and gave a two-finger salute before he left "See you, Diana!"

Diana took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to burp before entering the house. She had four large pints of beer and 2 slices of cake which made her feel bloated, which made her feel regretful going on a drinking spree.

"Diana?" Isaac called, which she almost didn't notice because she was busy nursing the bloatedness.

"Mmmmm?"

"Remember you had 10 things you have to do for me?"

Diana just nods and covers her mouth, trying to burp as silent as she can. "Yes..."

"Well, I'm gonna use 1, let's have a talk..." was his stern reply.

"Dr Skovgaard? can we do this tomorrow?" she pleads, as she was bloated and tired.

"No, because I don't know where you will disappear to again..." he reprimands.

She sighs as she follows him to the dining room where a long session of scolding and preaching awaits her.

She sits down, resigned to her situation and prepared herself for Isaac's long preaching.

"Diana, you often disappear and reappear to I do not know where to, it's like I'm living with a Ghost. And when I message you, you do not respond..."

"But I do respond!" she reasons.

"Yes, two days later..."

"Oh... hehehe... I'm busy, sorry, please don't be mad at me" she apologizes, and laughs softly, struggling to also hide her drunkenness.

"Busy with what exactly??!!" he inhales sharply.

"Uhhh.... you know, things? work? earning a living?" she says a little sluggish. "You know, I gotta earn my keep..." the Scottish accent of hers, starting to come out.

"Men!?" he adds.

"Ahahaha yes... men" she giggles. "I'm not really busy with them, they're busy with me, which in turn... takes up a portion of my time, they're handsome, eye candies! So I guess it's worth the time..." she laughs.

"Unbelievable!" he throws his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Dr Skovgaard, what are you really scolding me for?" she says, trying to suppress another burp.

He sighs " First, you disappear to who knows where and then reappear a few days later! You leave my message on 'read' and respond to them a day or two later as if I'm a weird guy you have been avoiding, and then you came home late, drunk! In the arms of another man! Do you know how I felt, do you know worried I was?!" he stressed out.

Diana stares at the tall ceiling and then laughs at the realizations " You make me sound like a stray cat who just comes home to eat!"

"I never said anything like that." he shakes his head in disapproval.

"I know... I'm just visualizing..." she adds, waving it off.

"Diana, you're not taking any of this seriously-"

She didn't know if it was drunkenness, but she felt a little brave, and without warning, got up from her seat and wrapped her arms around Isaac. "Alright, my love... I'm sorry, so sorry, I promise not to do it again!" she says, as her arms tighten around his waist.

Isaac, caught off-guard, stood there, frozen, unsure of how to react. "Diana?"

Diana just laughed, as she brought her hands to his cheeks. If anyone were to see them right now, it would look like they were a couple making up, after having a banter. "Oh, Dr Skovgaard... you sound just like a jealous husband!" she exclaims and laughs at his face. "You know I'd normally kiss you, but I'm not your beau..." she adds, tapping his cheek. "So, let's end this argument, and call it a day! I'm sorry, alright?! Good Night!" she says, kissing his cheek.

Isaac jolted in surprise due to her actions. He felt his cheeks, starting to get warm.

She releases Isaac from her embrace and sluggishly walked back upstairs, to her room, whilst singing a funny Scottish folk song and laughing halfway.

He sits down for a moment to collect himself and tried to process what had just happened. Trying to make sense of the feeling he currently has in his chest.

A/N: I have most probably made some grammatical errors, here and there... so I'd do some soft editing. I hope you enjoyed this one! I would also love to hear from you in the comments below.

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

12 - Coincidence

This chapters songs:

Beach Bummer; No Vacation

Goodie Bag; Still Woozy

Sports; Beach Bunny

- Y. L. Perspective

I wasn't sure what to think when I had read the message aloud. "I want to talk." What could that possibly mean?

"Y/n, I'm sure you're just being dramatic. Maybe he just wangs to check up on how you've been doing, " Toruku suggests, sipping from his box of apple juice. The two of us sat against the brick wall on the outside of the cafeteria, discussing my issue. Giki and Hikishi couldn't join us for lunch because of school work that they had to finish up, and Suga had to meet his friends.

Ever since the party, the only thing that stuck to my mind was my situation with Koushi. But other than that, I had forgotten about certain things that happened. As an example, bumping into Oikawa. And as crazy as it was, the moment completely left my mind for a good five days. Until I got a message from him, saying, "I want to talk."

Oikawa, Toruku, Iwaizumi, and I have known each other ever since the beginning of junior high. The only reason we had separated was because of Moku's tragic death, and our schools. Toruku and I had decided to stick together and go to Karasuno, while Oikawa and Iwa felt their volleyball was more important than staying friends. But honestly, it wasn't that big of a deal. The older we grew, then we realized that we wouldn't stick with our middle school friends.

But what Oikawa had caused between the four of us is what made things awkward.

Around the summer of my first year of high school, we all subtly kept in touch with each other. But then after he had thrown a party around July a fight had broken out between him and Toruku because of me.

Oikawa was telling others cruel things in a group of people that were discussing school, lying about how I acted around him. That I had messed around with him, or how I was jealous of Moku for being with Toruku and took it out on Oikawa. But truth was that Oikawa was the one who liked me, and I never paid too much attention to him because of how guilty I felt for liking my best friend's boyfriend.

Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Toruku, and I all knew what Toru said were false claims that he only told for attention from other girls that he would talk to. Oikawa let his popularity get ahead of him, causing a ruckus to occur that day. The further he would go with these stories, the angrier Toruku and I had grown. Eventually, his mouth ran far enough to drive Toruku to punch him more than I had expected. Oikawa was all bark and no bite, therefore, he didn't fight back. That night is when Toruku and I had realized that we needed to move in from our past and find lives of our own. Ones that wouldn't have to ever run into the two obnoxious duo Oikawa and Iwaizumi.

So you could imagine my anger when seeing him at a party that didn't involve him.

"Uhm.." Toruku takes a bite out of his egg sandwich, munching while talking. "Just text him back! Say 'about what?' I bet that would get you answers."

I groan at his stupidity. Today wasn't the best day to have lunch with Toruku, but who else could relate to me as much as him? So, I do as I am suggested, texting back a simple reply and hoping it would lead me to the best possible outcome.

—

Oikawa

I want to talk

About what?

...

—

"Oh my god, he's typing," I say quickly, dropping any items in my hand to hold the phone in front of Toruku and me. He finishes his egg sandwich and crumbles the wrapper to throw into a bin not too far away from where we sat before crossing his arms in concentration.

It wasn't that I was excited to talk to Oikawa. I was nervous as to what he wanted to discuss with me. Other than school, there wasn't much to talk about with him. All I knew was that he turned into a jackass with an ego.

'What does he even wanna say?'

When my phone vibrated in my hands, I had thought my questions were answered. But only a simple reply was given to me.

—

Oikawa

I want to talk

About what?

I just want to see how you've been doing. How about lunch on Saturday?

—

Toruku frowns at the message. "Why would he want to have lunch after what happened?" He asks me. "Say you're busy." A protective tone overtakes him.

"Ok, ok."

—

Oikawa

I want to talk

About what?

I just want to see how you've been doing. How about lunch on Saturday?

I have a tight schedule, so I don't think I'm free that day.

Hmm

Sunday?

What would we talk about, Toru?

Honestly

I just wanted to see you again

You know, talk?

Mhm

But why? Soon it won't matter

Cause after I saw you on Saturday I realized I had some things to say

Please?

Okay

We'll figure something out

—

"Do you think he still likes you?" Toruku pops in.

"No, I don't think so. But I also haven't been able to see his development, so I wouldn't know," I reply to him. I could either ruin or glorify my relationship with him. That was a bet I wasn't sure I wanted to take. And not only that, but he also had beef with Toruku. Why didn't he ask him to lunch as well? Was it because he didn't run into him during the party?

Now I had yet again another thing to worry about. Right now, my current concern was my first volleyball practice this afternoon. Kiyoko had informed me that this weekend they were to have a practice game with one of the competitive teams. I wasn't sure if I would enjoy it or not, but I mine as well have given it a shot.

To be honest, I was a little bit excited. Not only would I be able to see Suga more than in the afternoon, but I could get to know the underclassman more. That was if they even liked me.

"Whatever. I don't need to be worrying about this right now," I tell Toruku as I get up from the wall to throw my trash away. He nods, tossing his trash in the basket as well, before picking up my bag and bento, handing it to me. "Thanks for having lunch with me."

"It's no issue. Just tell me how things go with texting Oikawa and have fun at practice."

"Sure thing."

-

I waited at the front of her classroom. By her, I mean the beauty herself: Kiyoko. She told me earlier that she would run through the rooms the volleyball club uses so that I could get familiar with where I'd be going every day I attended practice. I was in good hands when it came to Kiyoko, one of my very close friends.

Finally, her classroom door opens, followed by the many students held inside to flood the hallways, including Kiyoko. "Hey there!" She throws a hand over my shoulder as we begin walking to the exit of the hall. "You excited?"

"I guess. I'm more nervous than excited," I reply.

"Don't be. The boys are very sweet. If you'd like, I can try giving you a summary of what to expect!" She exclaims, her excitement practically glowing off of her skin.

Once I nod, Kiyoko begins her full explanation of the players. "Well, we have the three third years. Me, Sugawara, and Daichi! And you already know about us. And there are only four second years. There's Tanaka, Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita. Tanaka is a loud person, but he's super hard working and nice to me, so I guess he's okay. As for Ennoshita, he doesn't talk very much, but I wouldn't be rough with him. He seems like the insecure type. And Narita and Kenoshita are like him, except a little more wild! They usually stay in the back of the crowd, though. Then there are the first years— man are they talented. We have this amazing pair of first years, Kageyama and Hinata. Hinata is so good at jumping, probably the best I've ever seen, and a very rowdy boy. Kageyama is usually a prick to everybody, but he's learning to be a team player. Then there is Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. They're pretty simple to predict. Tsuki just bosses around Yamaguchi all the time and they both talk crap about everybody, but they're good friends and good players."

I can't help but widen my eyes at how fast Kiyoko had explained the players. It was as if she had a lite notebook in the back of her mind where she stored every detail about them, knowing every word she wrote like the back of her hand. "...wow, so there's some personality in the team! That's good to hear," I say, taking a deep breath before we both leave the school building and make our way behind it. "I think I know about Kageyama, though. I went to middle school with him and my old friends that were on the team with him weren't very fond of him— but that's all I know. Sugawara just tells me that he's a very talented person, which doesn't say much about his persona."

"Oh yeah! How're things with Sugawara going?" Kiyoko has no hesitation to jump towards the subject. I couldn't blame her, though. It had been a while since we had a girl-on-girl chat.

Embarrassed, I chuckle, staring at the ground as we discuss. "Nothing much. I mean— he did ask me to be his girlfriend, and we made out a couple of times, but that's it!" I act as if the actions weren't such a huge thing.

Kiyoko gasped. "Y/n! You didn't tell me that you were so close to him, I would have teased you way more than I already do! You kissed him?! How many times? When—where?!"

"Shimizu, stop talking so loud!" I exclaimed, raising my brows as the girl pipes down. Kiyoko wasn't ever the type to get so rowdy about things, that is if it didn't have to do with romance. As for that, she was a downer. And if her friend was involved with it then she wouldn't stop with the blabber. "Anyway, after the party, we both spent the night in his car. We didn't do anything but make out. Still, it was so nice," I whine. "He was so gentle and confident at the same time, and I'd never had somebody want to kiss me so badly— y'know? After that, he took me home, and we both slept in my bed for a couple of hours. Once I woke up, he wasn't anywhere to be found. Only my cat and a letter were left on the pillow next to me."

"A letter?" She questions.

"Yeah, explaining his feelings—his feelings,

Shimizu! Isn't that so sweet?! He told me that he was in love with me and never felt so passionate about anybody the way he does with me. But the thing is, I'm not even sure I wanna be in a relationship. And it's hurting both of us. I think I'm just so confused about everything that I can't even make up a decision."

"Hm, that's understandable. It's a big surprise two of my friends are getting together without telling me! Especially since they're so in love with each other. But now you're saying you don't know what to say?" Kiyoko hums. "Well, from the way you talk about him, are you sure that you're not just scared? You seem like you're head over heels, Y/n. What's stopping you?"

Suddenly, a tall shadow stops us in our tracks, interrupting our conversation. "Yeah, what's stopping you?!" A deep voice says as Kiyoko nudges him.

"Daichi, you don't even know what we're talking about!" She says. It was no other than Sawamura, acting silly again.

He wore a black jumpsuit that I assumed was his volleyball uniform and white tennis shoes, topped off with his grin. "Hey, Y/n! You excited for practice?" He asks in enthusiasm, crossing his arms. If I was being honest, Daichi always scared me when confronting me, but I knew he had my back. Therefore, the goosebumps that crawled up my spine had disappeared once I settled into his smile.

"I mean... I'm a bit nervous. But yeah, I'm excited."

Daichi claps his large hands, then points towards a grey building that was only a few meters away from where we stood under the school roof. "Great! Kiyoko can lead you to the locker rooms and the team will meet you in the gym!"

I look to Kiyoko, who's nodding. "Sure thing. Let's go, Y/n." Her hand lightly pushes me towards the direction of the changing rooms.

Once we arrived at a certain locker room, Kiyoko showed me around the place. There were sixteen lockers on each side of the wall and two benches in the middle. Lots of different sports instruments were piled up in a corner, while a few bags were tossed in another. Overall, it seemed like a regular changing room.

"Here, you can use this locker here. No one ever does." Kiyoko points to an empty silver cubby. The others that surrounded it had posters and locker decor on them, telling me they were already claimed by other girls.

I open the locker, placing a few of my things in it like my bag, school vest and tie, and my shoes. After, I turn to Kiyoko, who's standing right behind me with a black bag in her hands. "Here, this is your new uniform. The team will take you more seriously if you have it on."

Taking the baggy, I pull open the zipper, revealing folded clothing inside. It was the same that Daichi had on earlier, except it didn't come with shorts and tennis shoes. Kiyoko told me that I would only need to bring some sport shoes and a white tee to wear under my sweater. "Thanks! Are you gonna be wearing one too?"

"Not today. My uniform is dirty, so I'll be using one from him. Don't worry, once the team is used to you, you'll be able to bend the rules a bit as I do. They don't care very much." She says as she makes her way towards her locker, pulling out a light lavender jumpsuit.

'Crap, does this mean I'm going to have to undress in front of other girls? That's gonna be awkward.' I tell myself, as I hid behind the door of my locker to pull down my skirt and quickly put on the black pants. I exchange my button-up for a comfortable white tee and black sweater, before taking off a few accessories that I had on and slip them into a pocket of my bag. After, I sat on the bench to trade my black long socks for some normal ones and tie on my shoes.

"Ready?" Kiyoko turns to me, fully dressed in her uniform.

"You bet."

-

I hadn't realized how awkward interrupting a practice was until the deed was done. It was sickening, embarrassing, and terrifying.

"Hi everybody," Kiyoko says in a soft tone, setting our bags down near the door while I avoided eye contact with anybody. That didn't help the fact that every one of the players was staring at us, sitting in a circle on the ground.

A loud, raspy voice echoed through the gym, interrupting the bitter silence that ate me up. "Hi, Kiyoko! How was your day today?" I glance up at the person who jogged towards us.  He had a huge smile and short buzz cut, already telling me that he was a rowdy one. "And as for you, welcome! You must be the new manager! I'm Ryonosuke Tanaka, one of the best players on this team!" He holds out a hand for me to shake.

'So this must be the second year Kiyoko told me about. Great, I like him already.' I think, bowing before shaking his hand. "I'm Y/n L/n, nice to meet you."

"Tanaka! Show some respect for your upperclassman, will you!" Daichi comments, coming up from behind him. "I'm sorry about him. He's a wild one."

"Oh, that's alright."

When Daichi realizes I'm comfortable enough to glance at the teammates, he quickly moves out of the way. "Oh—let me introduce you properly. Everybody, this is our new manager that Takeda Sensei told us about: Y/n! She's a third-year and is here to help out Kiyoko. She's friends with us third years too, so no funny business!" He looks towards Tanaka. "That means you, Tanaka!"

He yells out, "I—I was just being friendly!"

Daichi simply playfully rolls his eyes. "Why don't you first years come to introduce yourselves, hm?" He suggests as a few boys shuffle through the small crowd to get a better view of me.

"Hey! It's good to see you again, L/n! I'm Shoyo Hinata." He bows. I recognized him immediately when he approached me. The player was short for somebody on a volleyball team and had bright ginger hair that was rough and fluffy, and he practically radiated energy when I was near him. "I hope you have a great time on the team!"

After giving him a brief smile, I shift my eyes towards a pair of first-years that seemed suspicious of my presence in the club. But one of them stepped up to shake my hand and grin. He had brown yet green-tinted hair that appeared soft, and many freckles on his face. "Hi, I'm Tadashi Yamaguchi. A pleasure to meet you!" He cautiously nudges the tall boy next to him.

He rolls his eyes at the slightest, tossing the volleyball in his hands to the ground. "Hi, I'm Tsukishima." He says in a proud tone, bowing.

Then, I fixate my eyes on the boy who stood behind Hinata, staring intently at me. Once he notices that I had caught him, he began stuttering. "I—Uh...I'm Kageyama! Tobio Kageyama." The ravenette puffs up his chest, bowing towards me.

"Ah, yes! I know about you. Did you happen to go to Kitagawa Daiichi during middle school?" I ask, tilting my head to take a mental picture of him.

"Uh..yes. How did you know?"

"I used to hang around the volleyball club a lot and knew a bit about you. But I never would have thought you would go here!" I quickly realize how rude my response appeared. "Oh, crap! I didn't mean it like that."

He shakes his head violently, shutting down my apology. "It's no issue, Y/n! It's great that you know me— I mean— thank you for recognizing me," he says loudly, bowing once more. It became obvious that Kags was a bit nervous to meet me, but it wasn't anything threatening. His bright pink cheeks were more warming than scary.

"Well, Kageyama, it's great to see you again," I giggle. Then, three boys are seen in the corner of my eye, seeming eager to say their hellos. Taking initiative, I greet them. "Uh, hi guys."

"Hey!" They say, maneuvering towards me. The black-haired one shakes my hand first, squeezing it gently. "I'm Ennoshita. Pleased to meet you." Then comes the other two: one with a buzz cut, and the other with dirty blonde hair. "I—I'm Kenoshita! And this is Narita!" He points to the buzz cut boy. "We're all second years, by the way!"

Surprised by so many greetings, I can't help but hold my hands out in front of my face. "Oh— okay! Nice to meet you, too."

Somebody abruptly suggests, "Why don't you guys give her some space?" Knowing the voice too well to forget it, I grew excited. Sugawara had arrived, finally. I was looking forward to seeing him more than anybody else. "Hey, Y/n. Glad to have you," He says, secretly winking at me.

"Thank you."

-

"Let's talk positions for the practice game," Daichi commands, lifting a dry erase board to face everybody."Here's the plan I came up with."

The club was sat in a big circle on the court facing Daichi and Takeda. I accompanied them as well, pretending I knew what they were talking about.

"I'd like to have you two working as a pair." Daichi points to Kageyama and Hinata, who gave each other low growls. "And since Tsukishima is our tallest player, I think that would give us a benefit against Seijoh."

'Seijoh? Isn't that short for Aoba Johsai?' I think, raising my hand slightly. "Uh, so you guys are playing against Seijoh?"

Daichi nods. "Yes, Aoba Johsai. We have a practice game with them this week. They're a very strong team, so we need to be in our top game. Are you gonna be joining us..or?"

"Yeah, I will. I'm asking because I know a bit about the players on that team. If you'd like, I can give you guys some advice on their style."

"Wait! Why is Hinata in the one position that needs a tall guy?" Tanaka blurts, as he points towards Shoyos name that was written on the board. It stood in front of the net doodle, telling us he'd be playing as a blocker.

Hinata takes notice of this and grows annoyed. "You're saying Tsukishima and I are playing middle blockers?!" It seemed that he wasn't very fond of Tsuki.

"Timeout!" Takeda strikes the air with his hands, before reaching to his side to unfold a small handy book. "I think I need an overview of the positions.. let's start with the setter. That's the basic control tower— the ones who set people up for attacks. Then there are the wing spikers. They're the rounder that sort of.. maintains the balance between offense and defense. And middle blockers block the other teams' attacks and score points using quick attacks. They also act as a decoy to lead away from the opponent blockers! Is that right?" He asks, looking up to the team captain for reassurance.

He nods his head, putting his palms together. "There is a position that specializes in defense, but we don't need to worry about that right now. So far, that's the positions!"

"Well, Hinata should be the 'number one decoy'!" Kageyama quickly rises, looking towards the redhead. I look towards Kiyoko who is just as confused as me about what he blabbered. "Why don't we use you as a distraction to get points? We'll be using quick attacks, that way the other spikers can do some damage! You'll take down guys like Tsukishima and take them right down the garden path like the idiots they are." Kageyama spoke in a determined manner.

Yamaguchi defended the boy, saying, "Hey! Don't imply Tsuki's an idiot!" But is quickly shut down by Tsukishima, being told to shut up. "Oh.. sorry."

'These first years sure are interesting..and rude, if I'm being honest. Why is it that they're so bossy and demanding?' I say to myself, bringing my knees up and resting my head on them. Although we hadn't done anything physical, I was beginning to grow tired.

"Hinata, when we play, you better be on your best level! If you mess up even one bit, all of our attacks are gonna start to fall apart, got it?" Kageyama strikes Hinata, making him feel frightened and cornered.

"Come on, Kageyama. Hinata is already under a lot of pressure, why say things that make him feel bad?" I whisper to him, as he began to feel concerned for Shoyo.

Tanaka pats Hinatas back, attempting to calm him. "Yeah but- blocking is the most important thing here! No matter how high he can jump, he's still a shorty pants."

What he had told everybody started a riot between the players. Each of them argued about whether or not Hinata should be one of the middle blockers. As for the third years, we rubbed our foreheads in frustration. But it wasn't as if I could expect anything different from these boys.

"Don't you worry, Hinata. As long as you do your best, the team will be proud-"

"R-right! I promise I won't mess up!" Hinata perks up while his face turned a crimson color out of stress. "I'll block as much as you want me to and be the best decoy! I'll serve, I'll do attacks, I'll block! I'll do whatever you say, captain!"

Because of how anxious he grew, he dropped onto the gym floor not long after his rant, breathing heavily. Hinata had made it clear to me that volleyball was a very serious thing for him, and other players' opinions on him meant almost everything. But thank goodness, our third years reassured him that he would be just fine for the practice game.

From how much I'd seen, I thought that the club wasn't too much of an issue to attend to. That was if I wasn't helping first years get back up onto their feet after short-circuiting. Kiyoko had even told me that I did a great job on my first day at practice. So I was sure that I'd be a benefit to the team.

Now, my biggest concern was seeing Oikawa.

-

Comments and votes are super appreciated! Pls give me recognition for my chapters, I work so so so hard.

- sugawaras beauty mark☆

[crownin-thestars]

Best Friends - Pt 1

This is a request by a Wattpadder!

Request: Skeppy, Zelk and Mega all meet as kids. They all come from not so happy pasts so they relate with each other. The three become close friends and and hangout often. Timeskip when they're older, they all haven't seen each other in a long time. The three all reunite and have a nice(sort of nice*cough*sassymega*coUGh*) interaction.

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Regular Saturday in the playground. Children were playing and parents were supervising, occasionally having a chat. One of those kids was a young ten year old boy with dark and fluffy hair in wearing a thin hoodie. His name was Zak, but preferred to be called Skeppy for. . . Reasons.

Skeppy sat alone in the sandbox in the playground, using a stick to draw little figures of his dreams. The drawing was of him, his mom and dad holding hands together with the words 'Happy Family' above them. He already knows that it was close to impossible for them to come true, but he wanted to believe in what he believes. Skeppy put the stick down and sighed, looking up towards the other kids.

"I wish Mom wasn't watching me. . ." He whispered to himself, hugging his knees to his chest. No one wanted to play in the sandbox, but at the same time Skeppy couldn't leave it because of his mom. He hid his face in his arms, feeling tears forming in his eyes. His mom seeing him cry was out of the question.

Skeppy heard someone running in his direction, presumably wanting to get to the swings behind the sandbox, but then he heard the sound of sand crunching. He looked up and saw another kid around his age. He was in a squating position, looking like he was gonna say something.

"H-hi?"

"Hi! Are you okay?? And can I play with you?" Asked the boy, sitting on the sand from his legs getting tired from the squating. He was in a blue and white jumper with a Superman logo on it. "My name is Jacob, but you can call me Zelk! That's my favourite nickname!"

"Zelk. . . My name is Skeppy, and sure, you can play with me!" He smiled, finally finding another to play with. "Oh. . . But my mom won't let me leave the boxy." Zelk tilted his head a little at the last bit, understanding after Skeppy traced the edge of the sandbox in the air.

"That's okay, I like the boxy!" He told him, using Skeppy's term to make sure he understands. Skeppy smiled widely, he won't be alone anymore! "What's this?" His new friend asked, pointing at the little drawing he had made just not too long ago.

"Oh. . . That's the kind of family I wished I had. I even wrote Santa letters for it!" He mentioned, pulling out a piece of paper from his hoodie's pocket. "This is the one for this year since Santa hasn't gifted it to me yet!" He said, showing the letter to Zelk. Zelk had a read through before smiling a little.

Before Zelk could say something about the letter, an adult approached them, kid by her side. The kid looked nervous, like he had never had an interaction with another kid before. "Missy. . . What if they don't?" You could hear him say despite how quiet he was. The woman spoke up.

"Good morning little ones, this is my boy's first time coming to the playground, do you mind if he joins you?" She says, stepping behind the kid. The boy turns around, doing some hand signals to the woman, which she replied to very softly. He turns back around and waves lightly.

"Sure, we could use more friends!" Zelk replied, patting on the ground right next to him, signalling that he can sit.

"Thank you for being so kind. I will just be over there." She smiled and pointed to a bench nearby the playground before walking off towards it. The boy sat down where Zelk welcomed him. He pointed to the drawing on the ground, tilting his head to the side, but stayed silent.

"That's my drawing of a family I wanna have! Lookie, this is one of my letters to Santa about it!" Skeppy put the letter in front of the boy for him to read. "My name is Skeppy, by the way!"

"I'm Jacob, but you can call me Zelk!" He added, smiling at the new boy. The boy searched his pockets before picking up the stick and writing in the sand.

The grown-ups taking care of me call me Mega, so. . . I guess my name's Mega.

"Why did they call you that??" Skeppy asked.

Maybe because I'm so mega at surviving?

Mega. . . Could you say it was a laugh? It looked like he did but no sound came out.

"Why are you writing in the sand, didn't you just talk to your mom?" Mega sighed, clearing out the original sentences and writing new ones.

I have a complicated issue, but to make it simple, I'm mute to most people. And I don't really consider her my mom.

Mega wrote out, adding in an 'I'm considered adopted' to the message. Skeppy and Zelk looked at each other, then at Mega.

"How do you know?" Zelk asked, genuinely curious.

Well. . . For one I was randomly found my them when I was 7, so a week after my real mom left me.

Zelk's face was full of shock while Skeppy's was just confusion.

"Okay cruel." Zelk replied. Mega just shrugged while we still had a confused Skeppy. "Oh yeah! It also sounds like we're all the same in some way!" Skeppy just looked at him even more confused as Mega raised and eyebrow. "So Skeppy doesn't have a very happy family, Mega's mom doesn't like him and to be real with you. . . My dad died while doing his job. . ." Zelk looked down at the drawing, like having a parent die was something to be ashamed of. Skeppy quickly gave Zelk a hug, same with Mega.

"Don't be sad! Wherever he is now, he's probably proud of you already!" Mega nodded in understanding. "My dad works for the military, so he's always away, but he's still proud of me!"

"C'mon man, I'm not that sad, I'm still living." Zelk smiled, knowing these friends he has made will be long term.

"Zak, it's 3pm! Time to go!" A woman shouted, getting up from a bench. Skeppy swallowed.

"M-mom! Can we please stay a little longer?" He tried to request.

"No! When I say we leave, we leave!" She yelled so loud that even China could hear it.

"But pleeeaaase?" He dragged out, begging his mom for extra time.

"Zak. . . What are the ABCs I have taught you?" Skeppy went silent for a moment before replying.

"I will not A, argue, B, bargain, C, complain and D, delay. . ." He sounded so dead inside compared to when he was just talking to Zelk and Mega.

"And what did you do?"

"I tried to bargain. . ." Skeppy looked down, getting up from the sandbox.

"Good. Your punishment will be worse for breaking this rule when we get home." You could hear Skeppy wince a little before waving a small goodbye to the two. He lingered his way over to his mom, who immediately pulled at him arm, making him stifle a squeak in shock.

Eventually, the two learnt that without Skeppy, it wasn't fun anymore. So they said their goodbyes, Mega in sign language, before parting ways to their guardians.

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Word count: 1218 Words

[the-tharns-speak]

Hey, it's me again, your resident Hot Mess. Just had a tree break my roof and destroy my bedroom. No one got hurt luckily. Got any anecdotes or stories or anything you could share? Reading your stories always puts me in a better mood. Oh, and I haven't forgotten I owe you a sonnet for the letter you wrote me. Just...have had a LOT on my plate. :)

Oh, don't stretch yourself over the sonnet, that is nothing that couldn't be postponed. However, a story... Hm. Very well, I believe I have a good distraction. I believe I have already mentioned him on this blog, but I never got to properly tell you about a very particular mer. I got to know him for only a little over ten years altogether before our ways parted, but at the time I considered him a good friend of mine, and were we still in touch, I believe this would still stand. His name was Eustaar and we met within the first week of my studying at the Battlespire. Eustaar was one of the Clockwork Apostles, he came to the Battlespire to study on the order of his sponsor who insisted on bringing new knowledge to the Clockwork City. That resulted in practically everyone nicknaming Eustaar as "Double Initiate Eustaar," as he held this rank both among the Apostles and the Battlemages. He later found this duality rather amusing. Since he was born and raised within the Brass Fortress, he was somewhat of an oddball and curiosity in the Battlespire. His manner of speech was quirky, he poorly comprehended idioms and subtle meanings. Reflecting on it, this is probably why we eventually ended up befriending each other: To him I was refreshingly saying exactly what I meant, and me being a Tharn I was more than used to a little extravagance here and there. It took me three years to teach him some sarcasm, but he turned out to be a natural talent at that. Very soon we came to share the dormitory room (it included moving five other people, but such are the dormitory shenanigans). I was tasked with helping him with his once-in-a-fortnight arm maintenance; while the Initiates among the Apostles apparently don't undergo surgical replacement of their limbs, Eustaar had lost his right forearm in some sort of a fabricant incident and had a prosthetic which needed to be taken care of. There is no better way to practice your scrying spells other than looking for lost screws and coils under your bed and between the floorboards at two in the morning. This arm of his gave him an unfair advantage in combat; in our classes he came to liking catching the opponents sword or other blade in his metal hand, and just yanking it out. In the beginning we trained with wooden make-pretends, and our lector unknowingly called Eustaar out on his practice, that "you couldn't do that with a real sword, initiate." Of course, Eustaar being himself insisted that he could, and he demanded his truth to be proven by an experiment: The lector was not exactly happy about it, but he attacked Eustaar with her own (very real and very sharp) weapon. Eustaar predicatbly caught it without any injury, and the as a bonus discharged electricity into it. That was the first of the long line of lectors Eustaar ever caused to faint. He was an excellent mathematician, and exceptionally poor biologist, as his experience with the Nirn nature was practically non-existent. That led to some interesting exchanges, such as in Geography: "Pardon me, lector, but when you say that the sea is a large body of water... Who regulates it? What powers it?" The lector did not understand his question, simply replying that the water just was there. "What do you mean it just is there? Water can't just... be in places." (That summer when the Battlespire interrupted the teaching for two weeks for yearly repairs, I took Eustaar with my wife and children to our sea-side manor. I've never seen him so angry like when I showed him the sea just being there.) He also suffered from every sickness that crossed his way. He was very proud of it, saying that he was updating his immunity system. Bold statement for a mer who nearly died on me of the common flu. He drank a large amount of synthetic oil he brought with him from the Clockwork City each time he had to return there for a report and which according to him had both detoxicating and disinfecting properties. I just know that it burned very well and with a purple fire, and the one time I tried to drink it I was unwell for the rest of the week. We graduated the Battlespire together, he remained there for additional studies and later as a teacher, and I visited him often. Eventually he was called off back to the Clockwork City and we never saw each other again. I often wonder what became of Eustaar. Probably a Clockwork Lector or what is it they have there as a high rank. That would actually make him a Double Instructor Eustaar, heh.

[snicketstrange]

Sugar Bowls theory

This is part 9 of the Strange Interpretation of Jean Lúcio from Brazil

To understand this text, it is necessary to read some my previous texts.

 Strange interpretation of Jean Lúcio about ASOUE — Lemony Snicket's Narration from a Culturally...

There are two sugar bowls that are being sought after by Lemony Snicket and his supporters.

In the letter in chapter 10 of TSS, Lemony wrote:

“I have at last learned the whereabouts of the evidence that will exonerate me, a phrase which here means "prove to the authorities that it is Count Olaf, and not me, who has started so many fires." Your suggestion, so many years ago at that picnic, that a tea set would be a handy place to hide anything important and small in the event of a dark day, has turned out to be correct.”

I believe there are already many theories evidencing that the contents of the sugar bowl is some kind of audio record. And I can say that I fully agree that the sugar bowl that Lemony was looking for many years after the main events certainly contained some kind of media that supports information, and that an audio record is most likely.

Besides, when Mr. Helquist was at Beatrice's house while the fire was being fought, he noticed that there was an incomplete set of tea among the wreckage.

Chapter 11 TUA - “I tried to site for a moment and draw some of the objects that lay in rubble - a glass bottle, portions of a grand piano, a few charred pieces of green wood, he remains of a tea set.”

Probably what was missing was exactly a sugar bowl. This was not the sugar bowl that belonged to Esmé. Beatrice stole from Esmé only the sugar bowl, not the whole tea set. Mr. Helquist probably saw the whole set of tea, except a sugar bowl.

When Lemony wrote the letter, he believed the record would show that it was Count Olaf who set off the fires. But of course, the record will show the truth, whatever it is. Whether it was Count Olaf or someone else, Lemony only found out when that record was available. In another text I will write what I believe that Lemony discovered when he listened to the recording. But now I must answer another question: What was in the sugar bowl that belonged to Esmé?

The Sugar Bowl that belonged to Esmé did not contain a recording. All the evidence indicates that the contents of this sugar bowl granted the person who carried the sugar bowl some kind of power. A power that could be used for evil.

Kit explained it in TPP chapter 2:

“The sugar bowl is on its way to the hotel even as we speak, and I'd hate to think what would happen if our enemies got ahold of it. I can't imagine anything worse, except perhaps if our enemies somehow got ahold of the Medusoid Mycelium."

 Secondly, the content of the sugar bowl is somewhat shameful for the "noble" side of VFD. It is something regarded as a secret. It is something as shameful as the fact that it was the "noble" side of VFD that grew the MM fungus.

But why is this shameful? Because it is a proof of the hypocrisy of the "noble" side of VFD. In the case of MM fungus, it is a great hypocrisy that an organization that preaches peace at the same time develops a biological weapon of mass destruction.

Windershins explained in TGG, chapter 4:

“that sonar detector is like our cave wall, showing us the shape of things much more powerful and terrifying." "… "I don't want you to understand, … That's why I haven't told you why the sugar bowl is so very crucial. There are secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know, even as those secrets get closer and closer.”

In fact, just knowing the contents of the sugar bowl can be dangerous for a young member of the noble party of VFD. Winddershins explained:

TGG chapter 6: "It's not the sugar bowl, it's what's inside it." Aye! I've already said too much!There are secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know! Just think – if you knew about the sugar bowl and you somehow fell into Count Olaf's clutches, there's no telling what he'd do! Aye!"

Probably, if a young man or woman discovered the sugar bowl and then fell into Count Olaf's clutches, this young man or woman could come to support Olaf because he would be convinced that the "noble" side of VFD is not at all noble. Older people would already understand how the world works, and so they could understand that sometimes noble people need to get their hands dirty for a greater good.

Now that we know there were two sugar bowls, we need to think, how did they both get to the hotel? One of the sugar bowls you should know has arrived by means of crows. This sugar bowl probably fell into the pond in front of the hotel when one of the crows was struck by a harpoon. This sugar bowl stayed in the secret library for many, many years until Lemony came to the hotel between the time he was writing TGG and TPP. But how did the Esmé sugar bowl come to the hotel? Where did this sugar bowl come from and where did it go?

The TSS book shows that the sugar bowl was in the VFD HQ. But two volunteers threw the sugar bowl out the window, and left a message about the object inside the refrigerator.

Who was the recipient of the message? JS. What is the content of the message?

"JS, there will be a gathering on Thursday. There is a message for you on the final quatrain of the eleventh stanza of" The Garden of Proserpine, "by Algernon Charles Swinburne." A piece of paper that contained the part of the poem lay nearby: "That no life lives forever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea." On the same paper was written Sugar bowl.

Lemony explained what the last part of the poem meant:

"Eventually, however, it became clear that" the weariest river "refers to the Stricken Stream, which indeed seemed to carry away from the ashes from the destruction of VFD headquarters, and that" winds somewhere safe to sea "refers to the last safe place where all the volunteers, including Quigley Quagmire, could gather. "

Thus, the secret message indicated to JS that the sugar bowl had been launched in the Stricken Stream. And of course, anyone who knows the water cycle, would deduce that the sugar bowl would end up somewhere in the sea.

You must remember, that while Klaus was at Queequeg, he was able to calculate accurately that the sugar bowl went into the GG. That's where things get interesting. After Klaus passed the information to Windershins, Klaus, Violet, Sunny and Fiona slept. Several hours passed. (TGG chapter 5). Finally the submarine arrived at Gorgonian Grotto, but could not advance much inside the GG. Winddershinhs explained:

"the cave got narrower and narrower as we maneuvered further and further inside ... The entrance was the wide end of the cone,

but now it's too narrow for the submarine to travel. If we want to we will have to use something smaller ...

Periscope? "Sunny asked." No, "Captain Widdershins replied." A child. "

This means that a person of tall stature would not be able to walk in the narrowest part of GG. Winddershins was of tall stature, and so he could not go get the sugar bowl. He had to send the teens and sunny to get the sugar bowl. However, this group of young people searched for a long time and did not find the sugar bowl there in GG. Why not? There was one more person in GG that day. Notice what is written in TGG chapter 6:

"They had gazed upward and seen the sharp angles of various vertical flame diversions and other secret passageways Once again, she was led to the marine research center and rhetorical advice service, or even spotted the person who was using one of the passageways now, and probably for the last time, as she made her difficult and dark way toward the Queequeg. instead, all the children could see through their small circular windows was darkness. "

Thus, a person passed in the dark by the young group. They were going to GG. But this woman went down the secret tunnels that linked AA to GG. She certainly found the sugar bowl, and headed toward the Queequeg. She passed the Baudelaires and Fiona in the darkness and made her way to the Queequeg. This woman convinced Winddershins and Phill to leave Queequeg.

It was probably Windershins himself who sent the telegram to this woman, informing her that the sugar bowl was in GG. He must have kept this telegram while the children were asleep. The mysterious woman went down the secret tunnel, using this tunnel for the last time according to Lemony, and went to the submarine.

Lemony wrote the following in Chapter 13 of TGG:

“In the final analysis...Captain Widdershins was wrong about a great many things... He was wrong to abandon the Queequeg, no matter what He heard from the woman who came to fetch him.”

When the children returned from GG to Queequeg, the submarine had not been captured by Carmelita submarine. However, Phil and Widdershins had already disappeared.

Chapter 8 of TGG describes:

The Baudelaire orphans knew that something was wrong the moment they arrived at the submarine, knocked on the metal hatch, and heard no answer from the captain inside... After knocking for several minutes, the worried children had to open the hatch by themselves, a difficult task in the dark, and enter the passageway, quickly closing the hatch behind them... The Baudelaires looked around the room, but it seemed as empty and lonely as the grotto. Without the enormous presence of Captain Widdershins – "enormous presence" is a phrase which here means "large physical size, combined with a vibrant personality and loud voice" – the Main Hall seemed utterly deserted. Fiona took a step toward the door to the kitchen, but then stopped and looked at the wooden table. "Their helmets are gone," she said. "Both Phil and my stepfather were keeping their diving helmets on the table, in case of an emergency." She ran her hand along the table, as if she could make the helmets reappear. "They're gone," she said. "They've left the Queequeg."

The children began to wonder why Widdershins and Phil left the Queequeg. But what they should ask themselves is this: "Where were Winddershins and Phil gone?" Dear reader, let us reason together. We know that the Queequeg was at the bottom of the ocean. We know there were three people in the Queequeg: Winddershins, Phil, and a mysterious, short-stature woman. Winddershins did not go up to AA through secret tunnels because according to Lemony, the last time the tunnels were used was when the mysterious woman went down one of the tunnels and went to the GG and from there to the Queequeg. Besides, Windershins was too tall. They did not go to the Carmelita because this submarine had not yet captured the Quequeeg yet. They wore their wetsuits to leave the Queequeg. Did they decide to swim from the bottom of the ocean to the shore? That would not be possible. Even the Queequeg, which was a motorized submarine, took about a day or two for the Queequeg to reach the coast. And when the Queequeg got there, Kit said she was going to meet Winddershins who had already reached the coast.

My theory is this:

The contents of the sugar bowl that belonged to Esmé was a small musical instrument (probably a whistle) capable of controlling the Great Unknown. The short woman picked up the sugar bowl at GG, swam to the submarine, and persuaded Phil and Winddershins to leave the Queequeg in the mouth of the Great Unknown. (I believe the Great Unknown is a very large and very fast marine beast).

 You must remember that the Sinister Duet use whistles to control their eagles. This is evidence that many ferocious VFD-related animals can be controlled by sounds. You should also remember that the Sinister Duet uses the eagles as a means of transportation. Similarly, by means of a whistle, the Great Unknown can be controlled to transport people. Of course, it can also be invoked to kill people, and even destroy submarines. It is a kind of weapon. This fits perfectly with the fact that whoever owns the sugar bowl will have great power. And the ability to control well-trained fierce animals is one of the issues raised because of the VFD Great Schism. As the Sinister Duet said in TSS chapter 13:

"Look at these creatures!" cried the woman with hair but no beard. "When the schism occurred, you may have won the carrier crows, volunteers, and you may have won the trained reptiles... You may have the carrier crows, but we have the two most powerful mammals in the world to do our bidding – the lions and eagles!"

The more you think about this theory, the more it makes sense. For example, in TPP chapter 10, there is the scene of the mysterious taxi driver. Notice what Lemony wrote:

"I do know who the man was, and I do know where he went afterward, and I do know the name of the woman who was hiding in the trunk, and the type of musical instrument that was laid carefully in the back seat, and the ingredients of the sandwich tucked into the glove compartment, and even the small item that sat on the passenger seat, still damp from its hiding place."

The woman hiding in the trunk, must be the same mysterious Queequeg woman. The small item should be the sugar bowl that belonged to Esmé. This sugar bowl was taken to the hotel by this mysterious woman. And the musical instrument that was carefully placed on the back bench was the contents of the sugar bowl: a whistle, able to control The Great Unknown. (You can search, whistles are musical instruments).

There are more interesting evidences.

Winddershins made it appear that there was a connection between the sugar bowl and the Great Unknown in TGG, when GU first appeared on the radar. Recalling the words of him that I have already quoted in this text (TGG chap. 4):

"What was that third shape?" Violet asked. The captain shook his head again. "Something very bad," he said. "Even worse than Olaf, probably. I told you Baudelaires that there is evil you can not even imagine."

"We do not have to imagine it," Klaus said. "We saw it on the screen."

"That screen is nothing," the captain said. "It's just a piece of

equipment, aye? There was a philosopher who said that all of life is just shadows. He said that people were just sitting in the basement, watching shadows on the cave wall. Aye - shadows of something much bigger and grander than themselves. Well, that sonar detector is like our cave wall, showing us the shape of things much more powerful and terrifying. "

"I do not understand," Fiona said.

"I do not want you to understand," the captain said, putting his arm around her "That's why I have not told you why the sugar bowl is so crucial. There are secrets in this world too terrible for young people to know, even those secrets get closer and closer.

After that, at the end of TGG, after the Carmelita capture Queequeg, look what happened:

Chapter 13:

“The screen looked like a piece of graph paper, lit up in green light, and at the center were both a glowing letter Q, representing the Queequeg, and a glowing eye, representing the terrible octopus submarine that had devoured them. But at the top of the screen was another shape - one they had almost forgotten about. It was a long curved tube, with a small circle at the end of it, slithering slowly down the screen like a snake, or an enormous question mark, or some terrible evil the children could not even imagine.

"What's that cakesniffing shape?" asked Carmelita Spats. "It looks like a big comma."

"Shh!" Count Olaf hissed, putting his filthy hand over Carmelita's mouth. "Silence, everyone!"

"We have to get out of here," Esmé murmured. "This octopus is no match for that thing."

"You're right," Olaf muttered. "Esmé, go whip our rowers so they'll go faster! Hooky, store those uniforms! Triangle Eyes, take the orphans to the brig!"

"What about me?" Carmelita asked. "I'm the cutest, so I should get to something."

"I guess you'd better come with me," the count said wearily. "But no tap-dancing! We do not want to show up on their sonar!"

"Ta ta, cakesniffers!" Carmelita said, waving her pink wand at the three siblings.

"You're so stylish, darling," Esmé said. "It's like I always say: You can not be too rich or too in!"

The two wicked females jumped through the broken porthole and out of the Queequeg, followed by the hook-handed man, who gave the Baudelaires an awkward wave.”

 According to my theory, the GU was around this point because Beatrice, Bill and Windershins had invoked T GU using the musical instrument (probably a whistle).

Olaf refers to the sonar that would be used by "them." This sonar should be a bio sonar, used by some animals for echolocation. Olaf uses the plural "their," because Olaf knows there is more than one animal that has the same shape. Although only one of them, I think, is trained by Lemony and his associates (Or Hangfire many years before).

It is interesting that Olaf and Esmé know that The GU has the ability to listen to low amplitude sounds. Some marine animals like dolphins and whales have bio sonar. Such animals need a good ear. In addition, the name given to the animal was probably Bombinating Beast. This means that the animal makes a sound while hunting. This sound can be used for echolocation

 You must remember the scene where Kit comes to the beach. She told what happened:

TE chapter 13:

"We made a desperate attempt to repair the Queequeg and reach the Quagmires as their aerial battle continued, and arrived just in time to see the balloons of the self-sustaining hot air mobile home pop under the cruel beaks of the escaping eagles. They tumbled down to the surface of the sea, and crashed into the Queequeg. In moments we were all castaways, treading water in the midst of all the items that survived the wreck."... "What happened next?" "I don't know," Kit admitted. "From the depths of the sea a mysterious figute approached–almost like a question mark, rising out of the water." "We saw that on a radar screen," Violet remembered. "Captain Widdershins refused to tell us what it was."My brother used to call it 'The Great Unknown,... I was terrified, Baudelaires. Quickly I fashioned a Vaporetto of Favorite Detritus, as I'd been trained to do." ... I gathered all the books in reach that I enjoyed, tossing the boring ones into the sea, but everyone else wanted to take their chances with the great unknown. I begged the others to climb aboard as the question mark approached, but only Ink managed to reach me. The others ... " Her voice trailed off, and for a moment Kit did nothing but wheeze. "In an instant they were gone–either swallowed up or rescued by that mysterious thing." "You don't know what happened to them?" Klaus asked. Kit shook her head. "All I heard," she said, "was one of the Quagmires calling Violet's name." Sunny looked into the face of the distraught woman. "Quigley," the youngest Baudelaire could not help asking "or Duncan?" "I don't know," Kit said again.

Kit saw the Great Unknown, and she knew exactly what the Great Unknown was. Why did Kit wonder whether the others had been killed or not by the GU? Her doubt was whether the sugar bowl was in the hands of noble people or cruel people. Or if the GU was acting on his own, without any control. If the sugar bowl was not in the hands of noble people, death was certain. Why did Winddershins, who had shown fear in TGG of GU, now preferred to go to the GU despite Kit's insistence on him and the others fleeing? Winddershins knew that the ferocious beast was being controlled through the contents of the sugar bowl. He knew that the mysterious woman was inside the beast's mouth, and that the beast was there to save them.

Why did one of the Quaqmires shout out the name "Violet" when he was about to enter the GU? For when the beast opened its mouth, he saw a woman in the beast's mouth. A woman of short stature. A woman whose physical appearance was similar to Violet. So he found it very strange, and said "Violet?" But it was not Violet. She was just a woman very much like her ...

Beatrice

[jamiebluewind]

Misunderstandings

OC Perspective (Lyric)

Word Count: 1466

Notes: nonbinary character (Lyric), transmale character (Aultho), occasional use of fantasy language (elvish)

Characters: Lyric (original character), Aultho (original character), and Fabian (mentioned)

Warnings: bigotry, fantasy based racism, violence mention (please message me if I missed any)

Ships: None

Spoilers: Fantasy High Season 1 (minor)

Summary: Aultho had a bad day at work (due to a particular half-elf). His sibling Lyric tries to help.

Takes place after the bonus comic for Fabian's Gifts.

Requested by @rizbian

****

Lyric sat in their room tinkering with a new crystal array. Normally they would be in bed already, but their brother had messaged them from work saying that he would be home late. It meant one of two things; he either had a big last minute order or he had stuck his foot in his mouth again.

While soldering a few stray wires on their latest project, they heard their brother slam the door, followed by a loud "Vyshaana darrdartha biir!" Yeah. That was never a good sign. They put their tools away and headed towards the sounds of angry sun elf.

They leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, eyeing Aultho. He was facing away from them, searched for something in the upper cupboards. "I'm guessing your evening went well," they said with a smirk.

"Not now Lyric," he replied flatly without turning around. Uh-oh. This was bad.

Lyric reached out and placed a hand on their brother's shoulder. He was tense. The twins stood like this for a moment as Lyric's thumb made soft circles on the other's shoulder. Finally, Aultho's shoulders slumped with a sigh as he turned his head. A deep bruise blossomed across his jaw and he had the beginnings of a black eye. "Seldarine!" they exclaimed. "What... how... go sit. I'll bring some ice and healing aid."

A halfhearted smile appeared on Aultho's face as he shook his head. "Gys sa salen?" he said more like a question than a demand as he nodded towards the liquor.

"Sure," Lyric replied. "Elven wine or something harder?"

"Whichever you grab first," he answered as he walked towards the small livingroom.

Lyric poured up two drinks, sending a small machine to grab the healing aid while they got the rest. They pulled a coldpack out of storage and activated it with a tap before pressing it between their body and arm so they would have two free hands for the glasses. By the time they walk into the livingroom and sat the glasses down, the machine had returned, healing aid in hand.

Aultho glanced and the tin. "I only asked for a drink," he said. It was an absentminded observation, the kind he often made that got him in the most trouble.

"And I brought you something that will actually do some good," they replied. They dipped their fingers in the magic infused balm and applied a thin coat to his face. They made a mental note to make more for him to keep at work. Aultho would have never let them see him like this if he had any left.

Slowly, the balm did it's job as the scraps knitted themselves back together, the harsh bruise faded to a softer hue, and the swelling became less pronounced. "Thank you," Aultho said with a sigh. Lyric wordlessly ploped the coldpack in his hand before taking their seat. Aultho placed the pack on the sore area and sighed again before reaching over to grab his drink.

Lyric gave him a few rare moments of silence to collect his thoughts. They were going to find out what happened of course, but Aultho looked so drained that they decided he needed a little more time than normal. It wasn't the first time he had come home like this since they fled to Solace. In fact, when the twins first arrived it had been almost a daily occurrence! Lyric had gotten in their fair share of stupid fights too - especially those first couple months - but they had adapted and found friends that helped them understand. All Aultho had was Lyric, a prickly exterior, and a strong aversion to admitting when he needed help.

Lyric was about to start prodding when a heavy sigh came from Aultho. "I really have no idea how I pissed this one off," he said. His head was leaned back and his eyes were closed. "The gods damned biir."

"Did you call him a biir?" Lyric asked. Serious or no, they could never resist getting cheeky with their brother.

Aultho leaned up to roll his eyes at them, only to stop with a flinch and an "ow". He looked like he had a headache coming on. "I haven't been that stupid since the second month we arrived here," he replied.

"And yet-" they started

"I know," he said. "It still comes out sometimes when I'm mad. Apologies."

They reached out and patted his leg. At least he was trying.

"I was about to close shop when a customer came in," he said, looking at his sibling. "Tall. Loud. Probably half-elf or human. Wearing one of those stupid school sports coats..."

They furrowed their brow. "Letterman jacket?" they guessed.

"Yes!" he said. "That's it."

"So probably in high school or college?" they asked.

He nodded and then seemed to immediately regret it. "Yes," he answered. "That sounds about right.  A real gabreth. He banged on the counter, demanding a small briefcase. I suggested he make it a briefcase of holding. Then he punched me, yanked me up by my collar, said he wanted the feature while threatening me, requested initials, and then said he would be back in two hours to pick it up!"

They stared. "That's... how could that even be done," they asked.

"Not easily," he answered. "I luckily had a small black briefcase already made plus several scrolls on hand to help with the magic and lettering, but it was close." He winced. "Too close. I half expected him to punch me again once I explained that the magic had to settle for a couple weeks before the holding feature he requested would work, but he seemed quite happy with it." A humorless laugh came out. "Even gave me a tip."

Lyric breathed out heavily and sunk into their seat. "Wow," they said. They blinked a few times, trying to figure out what to do next. "Okay. Lets go through EXACTLY what you said. Because this is either a learning moment for you or a perfect time for me to test out my battle tech."

This got a real laugh out of him. "Okay," he answered. "Let's see..." He scewed his face in thought. "I think he said 'I demand a goblin sized leather briefcase.' I told him it would be a tiny thing and turning it into a briefcase of holding would give the goblin a lot more space to store the shiny things they stole. Then he punched me and-"

"Wait," they said, holding up a hand. Lyric was pretty sure their brain quit working for a second there and was desperately trying to catch up. "Did you actually tell this person... that goblins are thieves who like shiny things?"

A pause. His eyes widened. "...yes?" he answered, drawing out the eh sound.

Oh dear gods their brother could be an idiot sometimes. "Al," they said. "You can't... that's month four stuff!"

"But just last week someone told me..." He stopped and closed his eyes as he breathed out, defeated. "Mhaor kiira," he whispered.

"Hey," they said, taking their brother's hand, "whoever told you that was the asshole here. It's not your fault. Not completely anyway." It was hard enough for Aultho to sort through the lies and truthes without some idiot making it harder on him. Unfortunately, their brother was an accidental bigot magnet.

"Maethe," he said solemnly, "but I am still the fool falling for their false truthes after nearly a year."

They glared at him. "I will fight you ya know?" they replied. "I have a pile of battle tech ready to unleash at a moment's notice."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is it beside the pile of gay stuff?" he asked.

"My dearest brother," they answered with a hand to their chest, "Everything I own is gay stuff. You have to be more specific." They punctuated it with a wink.

He chuckled softly. "I should have realized," he replied. He looked at them with a genuine smile now that reached his eyes. "We should probably prepare for bed," he said suddenly as he stood up and stretched. "Would you mind if I borrowed your mini crystal while I trance? I might need a refresher."

Lyric smiled brightly at him. It was the first time he had asked for the mini crystal instead of having it pushed on him. Progress. "Sure," they answered with a nod as they unclipped the purplish pink crystal and handed it to him. "No problem." They made a mental note to get him one of his own that they could update regularly.

He looked down at the crystal now cradled in his hands. "Thank you," he said with a soft smile before turning to walk away. "Goodnight, Syolkiir," he said over his shoulder as he went into his room.

"Goodnight, Quinpah," they answered. "Love you too."

~~~~~~

Elvish Words Used

Aul: in

Tho: truth

Vyshaana: vile curse or an insult (reference to the Vyshaan clan of sun elves).

Darrdartha: foamjaws, rabies

Biir: garbage, used as an insult against half-elves or those of human heritage

Seldarine!: Gods! (expression of exasperation)

Gys Sa Salen: Give Me a Drink/I Need A Drink

Gabreth: untrustworthy, likely to turn on you, cruel in battle (dangerous/vicious)

Mhaor: corrupt/corruption

Kiir: gem (plural is kiira)

Maethe: perhaps

Syolkiir: wild star/gem (meteor)

Quinpah: a type of elvish bread/pastry