#hadn't heard it in a few years then it came on the radio the other day

[creaturefeaster]

ive been listening to the same song on repeat for like a week now. it makes me want to both animate & do character design............ the urge is taking over.............o goodness me

[taesanrot]

[from the start] taesan x f!reader | 4.0k words college au, classmates to lovers, making out, alc consumption ++ terrible drunk decisions lmao, angst kinda, misunderstanding, mutual pining, fear of physical touch at first, everyone is just a little confused note. sorry this took literally so long to finish, i kept changing my mind on how i wanted it to go. fun fact the original idea for this fic was based on my real life situationship. hope u guys enjoy <3

you shouldn't be here. you should be sleeping off the alcohol flowing through you in your own bed, at your place. you shouldn't be here, pressed against taesan's chest, your mouth molded against his.

up until a few hours ago, han taesan was nothing but a fleeting memory. just someone your friends brought up once in a while to watch the way your cheeks flared up in embarrassment. he was part of the past, an unfortunate moment during your freshman year in university. your friends didn't know about the guilt that ate away at you every time the boy's name crossed your mind.

the two of you had met in english, deskmates who bonded over the frustrations that came with your shitty professor and endless essays. complaining about class turned into hushed whispers while the professor wasn't looking, adding each other on socials and snapping silly pictures back and forth, walking back to the dorms together. because... why not? taesan was cute and you couldn't help but chase the feeling that came with every interaction you two shared.

you never thought it would turn into anything, until your friends pointed out the obvious: he liked you. taesan liked you. the way your hair flowed so prettily, the way you smiled at all of his stupid pictures and the way your eyebrows furrowed at the professors nasally voice.

the two of you had an undeniable connection, and it ended with the two of you sitting on his bed watching a movie together on his roommate, sungho's, tv.

flirty glances and brushing hands turned into his hands running up your arms, breath hot on your neck as you tangled your fingers in his dark hair. having him like this should've felt like heaven, but instead your chest tightened and your body tensed, to the point where taesan pulled away from you, looking into your eyes and softly asking if this was okay, if you were okay.

you should've told him the truth, you were just scared. you hadn't done this before, not with someone who you felt so deeply for. you just wanted to slow down a bit. but instead you faked a smile and just said that you remembered something your friend had asked you to do, ignoring the stab in your chest as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you pulled away uncomfortably quick and left without another word. that was months ago.

the last you'd heard from him was hours after you left; he'd apologized profusely, saying he'd misread things and you tried and tried to reassure him that he did nothing wrong. you wished he could read your mind so you didn't have to face the fact that you were a coward and you'd hurt him in the process.

taesan thought that night would be the last time he'd see you. he could tell something was wrong, and he'd figured that you'd never want to see him again. but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to blame you, hate you, nothing.

...

"seriously? you're not mad.... at all?" sungho sat up in his bed, staring at his roommate in disbelief. "dude, she literally led you on and ghosted you." jaehyun chimed in, shaking his head at the younger boy. taesan shrugged and went back to tuning his guitar, covering up the sounds of his friends' scoffs with the vibrations of the strings he plucked. they thought he was hopeless, and secretly, he agreed.

...

after months of radio silence, it was safe to say that taesan was not expecting his phone to ping with a message from you.

you tried to move on from things with the music major, joking away your pain with your friends and going on dates with other guys. it worked for a few months, but eventually thoughts of han taesan caught up to you. they plagued your mind for days on end.

late at night, lying in your bed and staring at the ceiling, you wondered how things could've been different if you'd just told taesan the truth. you thought it was easier to just run away and pretend nothing happened between the two of you, that you'd be at peace if you just went back to before you knew he liked you, before you knew you liked him too. in the end, it just left you feeling empty.

you hadn’t ever met anyone like him, something you hadn’t ever admitted out loud. you couldn't go back to the way things were before, he'd left an imprint on your mind like no one else.

the thoughts you tried to smother finally came up to surface on a breezy saturday night as you were celebrating your friend, yunjin's, 21st birthday party at her apartment. after more than a few shots and the truly you split with yeri, you felt like you were on another planet. you stumbled over to the living room, falling onto the couch and leaning your head back and closing your eyes.

after a few minutes of sitting with your intoxicated state, you lazily unlocked your phone, scrolling through your instagram timeline, attention focusing in and out. that was until you came across a certain set of pictures. you squinted, reading the caption.

tae23san take my tears @psungho @myungj4e

pictured was none other than taesan, sitting on top of a car with his head tilted back to look at the sky.

sitting up slightly, you carefully scrolled through the dump of photos taesan had posted: him posing in the booth of a recording studio, he, sungho, and jaehyun in a photobooth, a candid of him playing the guitar, a mirror selfie with sungho, and a solo shot of him.

the last picture almost took your breath away; he posed with a hand ruffling his own hair as he pouted his lips.

all at once, you felt every emotion you fought so hard to drown explode in your heart. you missed him. so much. your head spun with sadness, guilt, and longing. you wanted to- no, you needed to see him.

it wasn't long before the thoughts popped in your head.

why don't i just text him?

whats the worst that could happen?

it was bad idea, a terrible idea truly. but you couldn't help yourself, you opened your contacts and found your chat with him faster than you could blink. you fumbled with the screen, trying to type out a cohesive message to the boy you so desperately wanted to see.

[1:53 a.m.]

y/n: taesnjsnnnnn

y/n: i miss you

y/n: i'm soryry

y/n: can i swee yuo? please

...

taesan was hoping to have a peaceful smoke with his friends. he, sungho, and jaehyun had spent the day working on a project for their advanced music production class, and were now sitting on the couch passing a blunt around, some rnb songs floating softly through the air.

taesan breathed in slowly, sucking in the laced smoke and exhaling it softly, humming at the warm feeling in his limbs. he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, laughing at the feeling of the vibrations against his thigh.

"this is done for." jaehyun mumbled before flicking off the ash and placing the end on the side table. taesan watched him with hooded eyes as he stood up to stretch out his limbs, making sungho and taesan giggle.

"i'm going to my room." sungho stood as well, murmuring a similar quip before meandering over to his door. "don't forget to turn off the lights, san."

taesan groaned in acknowledgement, letting his head fall back onto the couch. not really wanting to sleep, he wondered if he should watch a movie or make some food.

the boy sighed in boredom, pulling his phone out of his pocket languidly and swiping through his notifications.

his already blown out pupils grew even bigger at the sight of your name in his notifications. he'd never gotten around to deleting your number -- he figured there was no point.

his eyes focused on the words next to your name. 4 unopened messages. he rubbed his eyes slowly.

was he really that high right now? or did you really message him. taesan's gaze jumped over to the timestamp.

10 minutes ago.

he hurriedly clicked the notification, tapping his thigh with his fingers as the screen expanded to display your texts. you were clearly a bit out of it, taesan smiled at your typos. his vision seemed to laser focus on the one text you didn't misspell.

i miss you.

taesan couldn't say he didn't feel the same way. despite sungho and jaehyun's relentless nags, he thought about you more often than he'd like to admit.

somehow, he knew something was up the fateful night the two of you had hung out. that wasn't you, he just knew it. or so he told himself. he didn't want to be mad at you, he didn't want to hate you. he had hoped for this day so many times. the day you'd tell him you didn't mean it.

taesan's fingers moved across the screen slowly.

[2:08 a.m.]

han taesan: hey

han taesan: where are you?

...

from the moment you hit send, you had suddenly been more alert, thoughts racing a million miles a minute.

what do i do if he responds? is he even awake? he just posted, he has to be. god, i hope this works.

you'd taken the leap, there wasn't any going back.

you begrudgingly lifted yourself from the couch you were sitting on, looking for your friends so you could take your mind off of the messages you'd just sent.

walking over to the fridge, you grabbed a water bottle to help you sober up a bit.

eunchae and chaewon did a great job at keeping you from checking your phone every thirty seconds. you laughed at their horrific job at playing pictionary against two guys yunjin knew, anton and sohee.

your two friends were losing bad, and you smiled watching anton and chaewon bicker, anton giggled at chaewon's reddened face. you hoped you'd remember to tease her about it later.

your phone buzzed twice in your pocket and you held your breath as you fished it out and tapped the screen. face to face with taesan's messages, nearly shrieking, you quickly typed a response.

you paused for a second, calculating your next move. you really wanted to see him, praying to god that he was free and willing.

[2:09 a.m.]

y/n: yunjins place. in source complex

taesan: oh

taesan: what room

y/n: 204

taesan: im 3 floors up

taesan: in 511

y/n: can i come up

taesan: yeah of course

while you were definitely a little more sober than 15 minutes ago, you still fought to not squeal into your hand. looking around, you searched for yunjin so you could bid her goodbye.

...

mellow music still floating in the air of the living room, taesan dropped his phone in his lap. he let out a shaky sigh.

whether it was the weed or the fact that he was about to see you after what felt like forever, taesan was suddenly very nervous, wiping his hands on his pants and slowly standing from the couch.

rubbing his arms, he looked around the apartment, unsure of what to do until you got there. he assumed you'd take a bit to leave your friends apartment and make your way up to his. taesan hoped you'd make it okay; he wanted to come get you but was honestly way too fucking high to leave his apartment.

"i guess i'll go brush my teeth or something." the boy mumbled to himself, walking over to the bathroom to fix his hair and make sure he smelled okay.

...

stepping into the elevator, you looked at your reflection as the doors closed, almost forgetting to hit the button for the fifth floor in the midst of smoothing your hair down and fixing your slightly smeared eyeliner with your thumb.

closing your eyes, you lightly rubbed your temples in a sore attempt to bring yourself back to reality, and to emotionally prepare yourself.

you were seeing taesan again, finally.

you hid your blush from literally no one and smiled slightly into your hand as the elevator doors opened.

...

standing in front of the boy's door, the weight of the situation at hand truly hit you.

what exactly did you want from this?

what did you want from him?

if you ended up hurting him again you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself. huffing slightly, you brought a hand up to your neck to fiddle with your necklace and think.

your dazed yet racing thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the front door to taesan's apartment, door swinging back to reveal none other than the music major himself.

"hi" you smiled and spoke quietly.

even though he knew you were coming, the boy somehow still couldn't believe the sight in front of him. it was really you.

you looked as breathtaking as ever in his eyes, your hair a bit shorter than the last time he saw you. taesan caught himself and chuckled slightly, moving out of the way to make room for you.

"come in."

you blushed as you stepped into the apartment awkwardly, not sure what to do with yourself. the alcohol was still making your head spin, eyes adjusting slowly to the sight of taesan's living space. you slipped your shoes off quietly and followed the boy as he walked into the kitchen.

"do you want some water? or snacks? we have chips and fruit, unless sungho ate them all. i think we have some juice too...." taesan's high had clearly not worn off in the slightest, and the boy winced after realizing he rambled on about the contents of his pantry for a full 30 seconds.

you couldn't have cared less, eyes focused on how pretty his hair looked brushed down in his face. making eye contact with him, you noticed the red tint to them, giggling quietly.

"we also have -- are you even listening?" taesan smiled at your starry eyes as you shook your head and laughed.

"god y/n- okay let's just go sit down." he watched you eagerly turn around and nearly skip towards his living room couch, settling right in the middle of the sofa.

the couch cushions were soft as they rubbed slightly against the exposed skin of your legs. shivering slightly, you wished you'd worn a bit more than just a crop top and denim shorts.

your gaze traced the lines of the wood on his coffee table, thoughts lost and scattered. you were just as blown away at the sight of him as he was of you. you recalled the sight of his larger hands shoved in the pockets of his zip up, wondering what it would feel like to have them wrapped around your own.

you wriggled your socked toes to a beat only you could hear, trying to take your mind off of the nervousness flowing through your veins.

"here." you looked up quickly to see taesan standing in front of you, about an arms length away. "i brought you some water."

taesan bit his lip to keep himself from smiling at the sight of you on the sofa. he looked around awkwardly for a second, not sure where to sit -- you were in the middle of the couch and choosing either side of the sofa would leave him sitting directly next to you.

"why are you still standing? come sit." you tilted your head at him and patted the spot to your right softly, smiling up at the nervous boy.

sighing out in relief, taesan plopped down next to you and settled into the corner of the sofa. you turned slightly so you could face him as he spoke, glass of water abandoned on the coffee table.

"do you wanna watch a movie?" he asked.

"is it okay to turn on the tv this late?" you shyly responded

taesan's ears turned slightly red in embarrassment. he 100% forgot about his two other roommates sleeping soundly in their own rooms.

while they probably wouldn't mind the noise, taesan didn't want to have to explain why you of all people were in their living room at this very moment.

"if you're okay with it, we can watch something in my room, i can play it on my laptop." taesan spoke.

your cheeks burned slightly at the idea of seeing the boy's room but you hummed in agreement, standing up quickly. the sudden movement caused you to stumble a bit. taesan stood up after you, wrapping a hand around your arm in an attempt to steady you.

"are you okay?" he turned you to face him fully, hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he looked at you worriedly.

your breath hitched at the mere inches of space between the two of you. taesan's gaze left you speechless, and your eyes searched his face before landing on his lips.

for every minute that had passed since you sent that first fateful text message, the anticipation had been eating you alive. deciding you couldn't take it anymore, you pulled yourself up by the collar of the boy's hoodie and pressed your lips against his.

his mouth was plush and unmoving against yours and you let yourself close your eyes and savor the feeling for a moment before lowering yourself back onto your heels.

opening your eyes, you mentally geared yourself for the awkward conversation you feared was about to ensue. taesan, on the other hand, barely gave you a moment to breathe, chasing your lips the second they detached from his. slipping a hand behind your neck, he tilted his face down and sealed his lips over yours once again.

taesan's mind raced as he bit your bottom lip, wondering what this was going to lead to and if he'd regret it. he decided he couldn't care less when he felt you tilt your head to the side and push your tongue in his mouth.

you craned your face upward and grabbed the sides of his sweatshirt tightly, like he might disappear if you let go of him. you needed more of him.

you broke your lips from his for a split second to ask where his room was. taesan mumbled something you couldn't hear before pulling you by your shoulders. the boy's mouth didn't leave yours for a second, only pulling away to push his door open.

you opened your eyes slowly, looking up to meet the taller boy's hooded gaze. you turned around and took in the sight in front of you. taesan's bed was in the corner of the room, posters hung above a small desk. you smiled at the tangles of wires on the floor, leading to a small speaker system and bass guitar.

"gonna go turn off the lights and check the door." taesan's voice rasped. you hummed in acknowledgement and stepped forward into the room slowly.

you walked over and climbed onto the boy's bed, bringing your legs up so you could hug your knees. staring at your socked feet, your mind was completely blank. when taesan came back you were absentmindedly fixing your hair and shirt, not even noticing the boy's return.

"are you okay?" taesan asked softly.

you looked up to see his eyes on you, smiling at the way hands were politely tucked behind his back. he was nervous, hoping he didn't overstep or make you uncomfortable. taesan didn't think he could handle watching you run out his door a second time.

"okay?" you tilted your head in confusion.

"with this... being here with me." your heart panged with sadness, feeling so guilty for how you made him feel before. you wanted to make it up to him.

"i am. i want this. i promise, taesan." you watched taesan slowly process your words though his wavering high, smile forming on his face. his hands came up to push your legs down, and you scooted towards him, giggling and wrapping your legs are his standing figure.

taesan had abandoned his hoodie in the living room, now in a loose t-shirt. your hands scrunched the fabric of the graphic tee as you pulled the boy towards you again. taesan complied without a word, bending down to meet your awaiting lips. you moved your lips against his languidly, savoring each swipe of his tongue against yours.

taesan pushed your body backwards so he could climb on the bed with you. you scooted back until you were pressed against the headboard, only staying there for a second before taesan pulled you onto his lap.

his lips went to your neck, pressing soft kisses and grazing his teeth against the sensitive skin. with each kiss, bite, and swipe of his tongue against you, taesan could feel you practically melting into his lap. eyes screwed shut, your head leaned back to further expose your neck and your fingers tugged at the boy's hair.

you slightly pulled taesan's face away from you, bringing your hands to gingerly cup his face. his eyes were slightly glossed over as you placed a wet kiss on his lips.

the last traces of your sobriety were thrown out the window, both of you drunk off each other. taesan thought you looked like an angel, bringing a hand up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. your eyes formed crescents as you smiled at the boy, and he swore he almost stopped breathing.

your hand came up to rest over his that was still cupping your face, intertwining your fingers. bringing them closer to your face, you opened taesan's and placed a featherlight kiss in the center of his palm.

"what was that for?" taesan mumbled in between giggles as he watched you continue to play with his fingers.

"thank you." your voice wavered slightly, eyes looking up to meet his nervously. you laughed at the puzzled look on his face before continuing.

"for giving me a second chance and letting me come over." you sighed shakily under taesan's gaze. "i missed you, a lot."

"probably not as much as i missed you." taesan replied softly, squeezing your hands and tilting your chin up to meet your wide eyes.

the moment that passed between the two of you was long and drawn out, you savored the feeling of weight being lifted off your chest. trapped in his eyes and tucked in his arms, you couldn't fathom missing the chance to have han taesan like this.

as the thick silence dissolved and taesan's aching lips found yours again, the two of you knew staying away from each other was ill-fated from the start.

[bonus — 10:54 AM]

blinking the sleep from your eyes, you lazily searched taesan's fridge for a water bottle. as you shut the door, a loud crash abruptly pulled you out of your sleepy daze. coming face to face with myung jaehyun, you let out a yelp of surprise.

"no fucking way." he spoke. a bowl of dry cereal lay at his feet, contents now strewn across the kitchen tiles.

ears turning red, you realized how insane you must look: your hair was untied and messily brushed down and you were wearing nothing but an old tshirt and some boxers taesan had given you.

"what happe- oh god." taesan said from behind jaehyun, having rushed over to the kitchen to check on you. it was safe to say the last thing he expected was to see you and his roommate staring open mouthed at each other. flustered, taesan opened his mouth to explain, but jaehyun interrupted him with a loud sigh.

"fuck you tae, now i owe woonhak 20 bucks."

...

taglist: @iweirdthingsblog @yjwkisser @sulkygyu @enhyven

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hi, I read a few of your posts and I really liked your writing. May I ask a hcs/drabble/one shot of ONE PIECE with Shanks (and Mihawk if it’s possible) who are in a relationship with a woman who have her own crew and the woman flee away in their sleep, leaving them behind, with her crew after years of relationship? A bit angsty 🙊 and they never found her again, seeing her in newspapers or rumors only.

Thank you if you made it and sorry if It doesn’t suit your blog! Have a nice day <3

At first, he though he read the title wrong. But no matter how many times his eyes glided across the black ink, the newspaper headline said the exact same thing: BLACK TOOTH GRINS: A NEW SCOURGE?

There was a picture attached underneath the title. Part of him thought that maybe the familiarity in the woman’s face was just his longing; a product of a mind too lovesick to hold on to sanity. Alas, this time, too, his senses were not deceiving him.

It is your face. You're alive and well as it seems. Looking exactly the same as the day you had left.

The heartache comes back to him tenfold. Not it has ever left but the pain and anger are now suffocating. So many months have passed when he hasn't heard from you as though you've suddenly ceased to exist. No one has heard about you, no one has seen. How can a whole person just vanish? At some point, he told himself that maybe you've met your end. It was entirely possible.

But nothing has prepared him for this. To realize that he was abandoned by the one he loved.

The anguish slowly fades into numbness like a radio falls silent after piercing ears with static. Everything stands still as he recalls the day some part of him had died:

"Greatest swordsman in the world" is a quite hefty title to carry. It is also quite a hefty title to be overshadowed by. Wherever the two of you showed up, you'd always be perceived as a decoration to Mihawk rather than his partner. Like a pearly white Maltese carried by rich ladies in their purses. Having voiced your concerns, Mihawk knew that you feel in some way inferior to him. He just never thought it was that severe.

He was woken up that night, actually. The sky was still black and starry, morning long hours away. You were getting out of bed and your stirring woke him up. But he quickly went back to sleep when you whispered that you were just going to the bathroom. By all means, it was just another night. Like countless others you've spent together. Nothing unusual.

In the morning, everything was gone. All of your belongings had disappeared as though you had never been on his ship in the first place. Like a ghost he's grown to love had simply become bored of haunting him.

Only one thing, however, suggested that you were not a figment of imagination: a laconic note that vaguely explained the situation. In a few words, you told him that you're tired of being seen as an accessory to someone, a pair of gloves that will be out of season when snow thaws. Knowing that you're more than the Maltese in a purse, you ventured into the wide world to become an infamous name of your own.

Throughout many years, every day has he thought of that night and the morning that followed. What if he hadn't fallen asleep? Was he too calloused to notice how much you've been suffering? Was there something he could have done but decided not to for some reason?

The longer he thought about it, the more he came to the same, heart-wrenching conclusion - he was just abandoned in the middle of the night. Whether it was his hurt pride or respect towards your wishes, he's never gone on an escapade to find you.

As years went by and he hadn't heard from you or about you, Mihawk simply assumed that you'd died. It seemed the most probable. Part of him wanted to take the blame: if he had noticed your pain earlier, had he taken your worries seriously, you wouldn't have left and you wouldn't have died. It was his responsibility to protect you, to ensure that his beloved is safe and sound. Alas, he had failed. Quite utterly at that.

He grew bitter and vicious. What good is his swordsmanship if it failed that one time it could have mattered? What good is he if he was too blind and oblivious to ease your burden?

But all of those painful thoughts disappeared today.

Mihawk tears the newspaper and throws it away. He's grown almost used to the weight of bereavement on his shoulders but now he's absolved of it. One shouldn't grieve someone who is still alive. But contrary to his expectations, he doesn't feel better because of that. In fact, he feels a lot worse. Even if your death had been brought by your own choices, it is not your fault. Your death, however, hasn't occurred as of yet, so the time you've spent building infamy was just time you chose to leave him broken and aching.

He mourned you! Turned his grief and misery into a fury that burned entire towns. He became a shadow of the person he used to be. And for what? To learn that he was disposable to you? That his love for you was less important than your pride and ambitions?

Now that you've made it on the front page with an equally hefty title "A New Scourge", perhaps you're a danger big enough to be hunted down by none other but one of the Warlords. Was it not what you wanted? To be truly someone among pirates?

Oh, he will find you. Even if you told him not to look for you. Mihawk will find you and make you take responsibility for the damage you've done - for the man you've irreversibly changed for the worse; the heart you've forced to turn into stone.

Is it revenge or is it justice? No matter. It is right.

If the butterfly effect is true, Shanks, or rather his tendencies, would be the said butterfly that causes a tornado down the line. He's been known as a man with no commitment and certainly not a devout monogamist. It didn't matter that for a few years he's been exactly that - happily wrapped around the finger of one woman. Most of his men "respectfully" disregarded the relationship status as something temporary.

"Shanks thinks he's in love. Like a thousand times before her."

Which was probably why you've gone years being called a variation of "Shanks's girl". Whether they meant it or not, people around you made sure that you know you're disposable. A fling.

But you never were. Gods above! You never were.

Shanks thought it was quite obvious that he didn't consider you a fling. All the jokes and jabs at his previous love life were just that - meaningless jokes among friends. Even when you explicitly told him that they start to make you uncomfortable and that you want to be taken seriously, the pirate captain never quite took you as seriously as he probably should have. "They're just joking".

The jokes stopped one day and, seemingly, so did Shanks's humour altogether. All of your belongings were gone. You were gone. Nowhere to be found, disappeared like fog on a spring morning. The only thing he had from you was a note, hastily scribbled in the corner of a map lying on his desk as though you were too rushed to take your time to write a proper letter.

He's read that note every day for years. Naively hoping that one day he'll somehow be enlightened as to where you've gone. Maybe one of the letters is strangely pointing towards an island? Or maybe the fact that you've written your message in the North-East of the map was a sign? No matter how many asinine guesses he's made, all of them were wrong. You just... disappeared.

Despite asking him not to look for you, Shanks couldn't help himself. Each village he has visited, he would ask about you. Has anyone seen you? Or heard about you? A few times he thought he had seen you in the crowd, only for the woman to turn out to be a stranger vaguely fitting your description. But this investigation, too, proved to be in vain. For better or worse, it seemed as though you had never existed in the first place.

To put things simply, Shanks had given up. If no one across the seas had seen you or heard about you, it seemed the most probable that you'd met your end. Somewhere far away, among unfamiliar waters and surrounded by strangers. Were you in pain? Were you afraid? Did you wish he could have been there? Or maybe you thought-

No. He shouldn't be thinking like that.

Shanks is locked in his cabin. If his crewmates believed he had an alcohol problem after you disappeared, their captain's state right now would be "alcohol catastrophe". He hasn't been sober since he saw the newspaper.

At first, he was excited, yes! You were alive and well! But then the realization set in: you've left in the middle of the night, asked him not to look for you and never once reached out to him. Telling him that you don't love him anymore would have hurt incomparably less.

He's sitting on the floor. His clothes reek but he doesn't care about that. A shaking hand has trouble lifting another bottle of strong alcohol. The front page of the newspaper with your face on it is lying in front of him. He's just blankly staring at it, letting tears fall down his cheeks.

Among the darkness of the room, there's just him, the bottle and the dull, unbearable ache in his chest.

Shanks wishes to find you. To ask what in the Hell you were thinking. Then ask what he can do to have you back with him. But beware, as whatever you demand he will do. Even if it costs him his other hand.

That is, if his liver won't kill him first.

[chosos-mascara]

solace

𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙞 𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - after losing two friends, levi can't face the thought of losing you, too.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - TW! theme of depression, mention of attempted suicide, mentions of death (isabel and furlan), angst to comfort, difficult conversation between reader and levi. car accident mentioned (isabel and furlan) reader is living with levi, happy ending

please, read with caution. *an attempt is mentioned, and a brief reason as to why this happened. nothing is explicitly stated. due to the overarching theme, minors please dni.

"You're coming to stay with me." 

Levi's words echoed through your head as he turned the key, engine drowning out. The ambient droning of the car had no longer acted as a backing track to the silence the pair of you had wallowed within, unable to speak to one another as you had before. A relationship you'd considered deeply rooted had began to wither through lack of contact. 

Levi hadn't been the type to communicate clearly. This was one thing you'd learned quickly, through a hard-eyed stare and often clenched jaw, you'd struggled to win over the stoic male's trust. At times, you'd considered giving up; Isabel and Furlan had been enough, and you'd surely cope with only an acquaintanceship when it came to Levi. In the beginning, it had almost felt like you were a mistress to the pair, Levi being the original spouse. 

Over time, this had shifted. Only a year after meeting, Levi had softened to you, enough to consider you a close friend. On a few occasions, the two of you had even met without the extra members of your group, a cup of tea here and there - usually when the others had been busy. You'd allowed him space, and time, and he'd rewarded you with trust. You'd realised that Levi had been extremely thoughtful, retaining information he'd only heard you speak of in passing. Your favourite flavour of tea gifted via a secret santa gift; a lone box of chocolates found within your mailbox from an unknown sender. A brand you'd spoken of only a few nights before with Levi. 

Isabel and Furlan had been the glue of your relationship; not only the sole reason you'd met, but the reason you'd became valued members within one another's lives. Maybe, that's the reason things dwindled after their passing. 

A car accident. Rain didn't fair well on Furlan's old car, flooding in the area mixed with a bridge, and some misjudgment on a turn had somehow taken both of their lives. Levi had met you at the hospital, arms wrapping tightly around you as you'd sobbed into his neck, your cries the only conversation you'd held throughout the next few days. When you'd texted and called, he had no longer answered. Their deaths had somehow felt like his death, too. 

It wasn't entirely clear when you'd began feeling worse, but the hospital accommodated a recovery.

Hange and Erwin had brought flowers and heart-felt words (or rather, Erwin's inspirational speeches). Yet, the most unexpected visitor had been Levi. After half-assed texts and radio-silence for the better part of eight months, you hadn't expected him to show up at all - let alone wearing such a broken expression. 

He'd been pale. Bags beneath his eyes, frown lines etched into his skin, grey eyes dulled and concern painted over every feature in his face and tensed body. When seating himself beside you, he'd treated you as if you'd been carrying a highly contagious disease, an uncomfortable posture and unsure words. After some complaining from yourself, he'd grown annoyed, thin patience snapping much faster than usual before he'd announced your new, temporary living arrangements. Apparently, it had been agreed among friends and family that he'd house you until you'd be deemed safe. 

The small duffel bag you'd packed had been placed within the spare room, Levi's keys thrown in a bowl beside the door and shoes placed neatly within their allocated space. A bath had been the first part of your agenda - though he wouldn't allow this to be done alone. The agreement when bathing had been that he'd sit within the room, back to tub. When the four of you had met up previously, neither one of you had been too modest, sleepovers meaning changing in front of one another, yet with the lack of contact as of recent, your cheeks had burned when undressing behind him. 

Laying back in the bath, you let out a long sigh of relief. He'd taken the time to fill the water with bubbles, chamomile and lavender scents mingling within the water and kissing tired muscles. Silence had hung over the pair of you since reconnecting, your ears instead focused on your own breaths, or the water moving around your body. There were smooth waves with each movement, and a dripping of ripples created around you. A faint fizz of foamy bubbles popping; an urge to bring them to your face to mould a haphazard beard. You'd considered it, long and hard, yet when your lips had upturned and eyes landed on the back of Levi's head hung so lowly, wrists appearing much thinner than you'd remembered them, your heart sunk. You laid back against the porcelain, pushing back tears. 

"You should get one of those vintage roll-top baths." You spoke, a break in your voice ignored, swish of water when your arm moved upward to poke larger bubbles. Levi exhaled. You watched him shift against the floor, knees brought to chest. He rested arm to leg, with chin pressing into one folded forearm, sight facing toward the door across the room. Levi thought for a moment, mind racing while feeling empty simultaneously. 

"Why?" His voice was frail. Black hair falling forward when he hung his head, eyes squeezing shut along with his fists, though you'd been unable to witness the fight against his body's cries. Instead, you were left to raise a brow.  "Just think they're cool?" An unsure answer to the redundant question you hadn't quite understood.  "No-" Levi sighed again, this time hunching back with a hand to forehead. "Why did you do it?" 

"I-" Silence once more. Your mouth opened, breath hitching as you searched for an answer you hadn't felt qualified to give. 

"I just... I remembered her smile, and suddenly it felt like I had nothing to lose by trying." 

He broke the agreement, turning around with speed. You'd been startled, water splashing upward as you'd fought for cover beneath folded arms and scooped bubbles, jaw hanging in both shock and annoyance. Before you could voice the distaste for his actions, he'd began to speak, a desperation in his voice.  "What about me?" A tightness within your chest as he'd shouted those words. Grey gaze aimed only toward your face, painted with thick tears threatening to cascade over cheeks. Skin that had appeared sickly, thinning out. It had been clear Levi hadn't been looking after himself, though this was a fact you'd already understood. 

"Levi..." His name had been almost inaudible, words dying on your tongue when searching his expression.  "How am I supposed to grieve you, too? Why didn't you speak to me-" Levi allowed his anger to control his speech, a rage bubbling within him, originating from a deep wound cut long ago. He'd been getting to the end of his tether, too. 

"When was the last time you spoke to me, Levi?" You shot back with equal passion. The bath had grown cooler with the passing time - or perhaps your own body-heat had simply risen. "Stop acting like you were here for me when you haven't called in months." You balled a fist, teeth clenching before continuing. "You haven't even come to terms with your emotions. How could I expect you to deal with mine, too?" 

"I'm fine-"  "Really?" A malicious laugh had left your chest, disbelieving expression tormenting your features. "Overworking yourself, bottling in your feelings? How can you expect me to reach out when you haven't actually spoken to me since it happened?" The explosion had been overcome, left with only Levi's tense jaw, eyes searching yours yet finding no answer. 

Regret had plagued both of you as he'd turned back and you'd sank down, original positions assumed. Cooling, sorrow overwrote anger. Your finger had resumed to absentminded swirling of water, bubbles now mostly non-existent. 

"I miss her." A smile crept to your face as you thought of Isabel, her innocence and innate talent to make those around her happy. "She always made us laugh - even if we didn't want to." Heartfelt memories danced between you, a lifetime alongside friends as if you'd had more time. If only.  "She was good at that." He'd spoken as he'd remembered specifics, a certain set green eyes filled with excitement, a child-like stupor that had only bounced between herself and Furlan. 

That night, Levi slept. You'd insisted on sharing a bed, hand on his chest turning into your cheek pressing onto sternum, head rising and falling with his heavy breaths. He'd almost forgotten how sleeping had felt - a genuine, well-rested night. There was a time when you'd pictured the arrangement between you being temporary, and he'd been sure that he had too - but since that day, you hadn't returned home. Your home had become merged with his, your things and his things suddenly labelled as ours. Neither of you had been entirely sure when friendship had shifted into love, though you were sure it had something to do with Isabel and Furlan.

[michelleleewise]

Chocolate and Promises

Pairing: Avenger Loki x Female reader

Warnings: soft smut, mild swearing, teasing, breeding kink, fluff, oral (f receiving), soft Dom loki, (p in v), *sensual hand holding*

Summary: you give Loki everything he ever dreamed of.....

A/n- graphics by: @harlequin-hangout

Part 6--Epilogue-

5 years later.....

"Mommy!" Your daughter screamed from the other room, causing you to throw the cookbook across the room, holding your chest "what is it Elise?" You called out, walking over to pick up the book when she ran into the kitchen, curls bouncing around her face "when will daddy be here?" She asked running up to you "oh I'm not sure sweetie, it's hard to tell." You said setting the book down. "I made him something." She said bouncing on her feet "oh, let me see." You smiled as she pulled a piece of paper from behind her holding it up "see that's me, that's you and that's daddy." She said pointing to each person. "And what's that?" You asked pointing to the side "oh...that's whiskers, the cat." She smiled. "We don't have a cat dear." You said confused "not yet.." She laughed running from the room "lord help me." You laughed returning to your project.

A few hours later you pulled the roast out of the oven, setting it on the counter closing your eyes as the smell wafted around you "perfect.." you smiled, reaching up grabbing plates out of the cabinet when you heard the front door. You slowly reached into the drawer, pulling the dagger Loki gave you out. You hadn't heard from him in a couple days since they went radio silent and you weren't sure when he was supposed to be home. You gripped the hilt, slowly walking to the doorway when you heard shuffling, peaking around seeing none other then Loki, pulling his coat off. "Loki!" You yelled, running towards him as he turned smiling when you lept into his arms, latching onto his shoulders as he hands slid around your back. "I missed you so much." You murmured into his neck feeling him squeeze tighter.

"Daddy!" Elise yelled, running through the living room as Loki bent down picking her up "Hello my sweet girl." He said holding her tight to him, his other arm wrapped around your middle as he rocked you back and forth. "Your just in time, dinner just got done." You smiled, leaning up kissing him "mm..it smells delicious." He hummed setting Elise down seeing the dagger in your hand. "Darling, shouldn't we wait until after she is in bed?" He asked wiggling his eyebrows making you laugh "you are insatiable." You laughed smacking his arm "You love it." He growled, pulling you to his chest. "I didn't know it was you." You said looking up at him. "Well I am very glad I am." He laughed as you pulled away heading back to the kitchen putting the dagger away.

"I am going to go shower and then I'll help you set the table?" He said, stealing a carrot as you slapped his hand "Stay out of there." You laughed grabbing silverware "You would deny a starving man?" He pouted, sticking his lower lip out "Loki Laufeyson..." you growled as he put his hands up backing up "I shall return shortly my lady." He said walking out of the kitchen. He came back shortly after, water dripping from his hair carrying Elise looking at the picture she drew, a large smile spread across his face "Darling. Are you aware we need a cat?" He asked laughing "yes, I was informed today." You laughed back as Loki sat her on the counter "mommy and daddy will talk about It yes?" He said seeing Elise nod.

You finished dinner, standing up gathering the dishes as Loki stood "daddy, will you read me a story?" Elise asked as Loki picked her up "of course my dear, I'll be right back Love." He said carrying Elise with him. You put the leftovers away, stacking the dishes in the sink starting the water when you felt Loki's arms wrap around you. "I cannot tell you how much I missed you love." He whispered in your ear, genlty kissing your neck making you sigh. "I missed you too." You said back, grabbing the sponge as his hands slid down yours arms, his fingers entwineing with yours "loki..I have to do the dishes." You said tilting your head "Mmm...do you?" He murmured. You shivered feeling his tongue glide up your neck, stopping below your ear as his teeth nipped at you skin. "Well, I need to do you." He groaned, your grip tightening around the sponge feeling his erection pressing into your backside.

"Mr. Laufeyson" you said sternly, turning in his arms to face him "Mrs Laufeyson." He said smiling making you laugh "you know I don't like leaving things dirty." You said pressing a hand to his chest "allow me my love " He said, flicking his wrist the dishes were stacked neatly in the drainer. "Well that's just cheating." You said tossing the sponge behind you. "What did you expect?" He smirked making you laugh when he leaned down, his lips caressing yours as his hands traveled down your sides, slowly pulling the material of your skirt up. You reached up gripping his shoulders feeling his fingers travel under your skirt, hooking into the waist of your panties as his tongue slowly glided across your bottom lip. You parted your lips, allowing him in as his tongue danced with yours, exploring....dominating.

You moaned into his mouth feeling your panties slide down your thighs landing at your feet. He growled into the kiss, lifting to up he carried you to the table, gently setting you down spreading your knees apart. He placed a hand on your chest, guiding you back as he dropped to his knees, gripping your thighs he pulled you close as his tongue diving between your folds making you cry out. You reached down, tangling your hands in his hair pulling him closer as his lips latched onto your clit, nipping and sucking as his hand traveling down your arm, joining the hand in his hair, his fingers caressing yours. "Goood....L..loki......" you moaned, his groans driving you to the edge feeling his tongue slide down to your entrance, slowly sliding inside as you locked your ankles behind his head.

You looked down, seeing his head moving up and down, feeling his soft hair rub againt your thigh as he fucked you with his tongue, the site alone almost making you come "L..loki...i.....fuck...." you groaned, your nails digging into his hair as your walls tightened around his tongue, coming hard yelling his name. You panted, coming down from your watching Loki stand up, reaching for his belt "Loki...wait." you said grabbing his hand "what is it love? Is something wrong?" He asked grabbing your hand "no, nothings wrong." You said sitting up cupping his cheek "as much as I would love for you to utterly pound me into the table.." you trailed off seeing him smile "i...I want to feel you." You said looking down. "What do you mean love?" He asked rubbing his thumb along the back if your hand.

You took a deep breath, looking up into his eyes "I want to feel....you." you said, placing a hand over his heart. He grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it "close your eyes love?" He whispered. Doing as he asked, you felt a tingle run over you making you shiver, feeling the hard table turn soft "you can open those beautiful eyes now." Loki said, opening your eyes seeing you were in your room, "while I do not believe I can properly express how I feel about you, I will do my best." He said stepping closer, his fingers grabbing the hem of your shirt, gently lifting it over your head as he reached behind you, unzipping your skirt, letting it pool at your feet. "No bra hmm?" He smirked, his eyes devouring your naked form "it was more comfortable." You said smiling.

"Mmm...lay down love." He purred as you sat back on the bed, scooting back to the headboard watching him. You leaned forward as he untucked his shirt, beginning to unbutton it "slowly..." you said seeing him smile, his cheeks turning pink as he slowed his moments, not breaking eye contact with you as he pulled his shirt back over his shoulders dropping it to the floor. He slid his hand down his torso, his fingers grasping his belt buckle as he unclasped it, slowly sliding it out of the loops, it quickly joining the pile. You watched as he toed off his shoes as he unbuttoned his pants, hooking his thumbs under the hem he slowly pushed them down, exposing the dark tuft of hair at the apex of his v.

You felt your mouth go dry as he pushed them all the way down, licking your lips as he stood, watching the way his muscles rippled and clenched, the way his thighs flexed as he kneeled on the bed, his biceps flexing as he crawled up to you, your eyes meeting his seeing him smile "like what you see love?" He smirked, his hands sliding up your calves to your knees, slowly opening them to him "you have no idea." You breathed laying back as he settled over you, his erection pressing into your thigh. You looked up into his eyes, pushing his hair back just looking at him "you really are so beautiful." You said seeing his cheeks redden. "And not just here.." you said cupping his cheek "here too." You said putting your hand on his heart.

He leaned down on his elbows, placing a soft kiss to your lips running a hand through your hair "not as beautiful as you my love, you are all that I ever dreamed of and thought I would never have." He said, his eyes traveling your face. "You deserve everything." You said, staring into his eyes "there is nothing more I could ever want." He said, his lips pressing to yours, his hand traveling down your side caressing your hip. You reached between you, your fingers wrapping around him as you guided him to your entrance hearing him moan. Feeling his lips part you slid your tongue inside, twirling your tongue around his groaning as he slowly pushed his hips forward pressing onto you, gasping as you stretched around him, feeling every inch of him as he bottomed out.

He pulled back, pressing his forehead to yours panting "are you ready love?" He breathed, his hand sliding up twining his fingers with yours "yes...God yes...." you panted, your hands sliding down to his ass, your nails digging in as he slowly pulled his hips back pushing back in. His pace was slow...steady. he gripped your hand as your walls squeezed him, watching his eyes clench shut, his lips forming an O as sped up, his cheeks clenching with each thrust as you pulled him into you. "My god...ahh....my L..loki...." you moaned, angling his hips to hit that soft spot inside you making your toes curl. "Y..you are....mmm....prefect love...." he moaned as he snapped his hips hard into you "I need to....ahh...feel you inside me.....f..fill me up....." you panted, looking into his eyes seeing his pupils dilate "i..I need you to...mmm...give it to me Loki." You groaned, closing your eyes feeling him all around you.

He slowly pulled out, kissing you again as he went to the bathroom, coming back with a washcloth cleaning you up "do you truly wish for another baby y/n?" He asked sitting next to you "I know we haven't really talked about it but I'm ready when you are." You said grabbing his hand. "I would love nothing more darling, to come home seeing your beautiful body swollen with my child.." he trailed off, looking at your stomach "Well, we'll see if that took, if not we'll have to keep trying I guess." You smiled "well that is the fun part." He said making you laugh when you heard a knock on the door. Loki quickly flicked his wrist dressing you both as he walked to the bedroom door, coming back with Elise "I had a bad dream." She said rubbing her eyes. "Oh no, come here sweetie." You said holding your arms out as she climbed over settling next to you, Loki laying down on the other side of her.

"You wish to have my seed...aahh...to have a part of my growing inside you..." he groaned, pulling his hips back thrusting hard into you "y..yes....God please Loki..." you moaned, pulling him hard into you "i..I need all of you!" You gritted, feeling your walls clench around him, each vein rubbing against you as he squeezed your hand "you have all of me...aahh...and you always will." He panted. His thrusts became frantic, his pace unrelenting as you both chased your highs feeling him twitch inside you "g..give it to me....c..come inside me...." you groaned, lifting your hips to meet his as he pushed into you hard, holding himself there he spilled deep inside you triggering your own release as you both cried out, your thighs tightening against his sides. He thrust into you a few more times, riding you both through your highs as you looked up at him, pushing his hair back off his damp forehead "I will never have my fill of you." He panted, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "Silvertongue." You panted making him laugh.

You ran your fingers through her dark curls, humming feeling her breathing relax as Loki laid watching you "you truly are an amazing mother love" He smiled grabbing your hand "and your an amazing father." You smiled back rubbing his hand with your thumb. "I wouldn't trade this for all the gold in the nine realms." He said looking at you holding his daughter "I love you Mr. Laufeyson." You smiled, lacing your fingers with his. "And I love you Mrs. Laufeyson." He smiled back, leaning over kissing you before kissing Elise's head. You closed your eyes, your heart full as you held onto the most important things in your life, and you would never let them go.

@vbecker10 @lokisgoodgirl @sinsandguilt @high-functioning-lokipath @mochie85 @slytherclaw1227 @jaidenhawke @budugu @xorpsbane @schizonephilim @lokidokieokie @holdmytesseract @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokixryss @asgardianprincess1050 @tallseaweed @aniar4wniak @lokispetblogs @loopsisloops @trojanaurora @lonadane @yelkmelk @stupidthoughtsinwriting @silverfire475 @goblingirlsarah @commanding-officer @glitterylokislut @kkdvkyya @cueloki @daggers-and-mischief @sititran @witchyblue @verycollectivecreator @nixymarvelkins @chantsdemarins @shinraski @usagishira @muddyorbsblr @filthyhiddles @dukes2581 @assemblingavenger @lulubelle814 @irishhappiness @wolfsmom1 @luvlady-writes @lovingchoices14 @thomase1 @myworldgoesboomz @huntress-artemiss

[js589]

So, I was driving in the car today and heard "Rude" by Magic! on the radio. And this just popped into my head.

This little story is set post The Empty Grave and contains minor spoilers. It could be for either the book universe or the show universe. It is not necessarily connected to my ongoing series with @practicallyasleep but could be read that way if you so choose.

Enjoy!

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

"No. Absolutely not." Montagu Barnes shook his head. How was this even happening?!

"Inspector—" Of course the boy was trying to reason, but there could be none here.

Montagu shook his head again. "Mr. Lockwood, I have let a lot slide when it comes to you, and I have actively covered up more. But this? I cannot and will not condone it."

"It's what we both want!" Lockwood protested.

"Today."

"This isn't going to change," Lockwood insisted. "Lucy and I... Look, I know that we're young, but when you know, you know, and we know, Inspector. In fact, I really only came to you as a courtesy—"

Montagu held up a hand. "Not so fast. As agents, you and Ms. Carlyle are considered wards of DEPRAC, especially in the absence of... any other figure to fill the role. And before you tell me you're eighteen, DEPRAC's guardianship supercedes your—may I say incredibly nascent—adulthood, quite specifically to prevent things like this!"

"Which is why I came prepared." Lockwood indicated his rapier. "As the rules also state, I can challenge you to a duel for Lucy's hand, and you must either accept and fight, or forfeit. So, Inspector Barnes..." Lockwood stood and got ready to draw. "Which will it be?"

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

Montagu sat bolt upright in his chair. He must have dozed off while filling out paperwork.

Thank God that Lockwood and Carlyle were no longer his problem: they hadn't yet lost their Talent, but with the bulk of the fight having shifted to the Other Side, Lockwood had been serving as a fencing instructor for the last few years, and Carlyle was working at Munro's organization helping agents on their way out find other suitable work, or a path to further education.

They were still young, but not so young that the wedding invitation currently awaiting response on his desk had been as much of a shock as it could have been.

Really, they were suited. Nauseatingly so. (And probably better not to inflict on anyone else, if he was being honest.)

It was a happy ending—beginning—for them, and in a world that had seen far too few of them, well, he wasn't going to miss it.

[fixfoxnox]

Ghost's Dead Fiance

Description: There were two things that Soap knew: He was in love with Ghost and Ghost was still in love with his dead fiance, Roach.

Warnings: Misunderstandings (very angsty trust me guys), sadness everywhere, Roach is definitely dead guys, sorry he's just gone :(

Note: Roach fans I am begging you not to block me and to actually read this I stg I am one of you believe that I am not leading you astray with this

Soap had worked with Simon "Ghost" Riley for a little over two years now. Two years of getting to know the man and all of his little intricacies. Two years of falling in love.

He'd believed the other man was a hard-ass when they first met, always so focused and serious, even on their down time. Then he'd learned. He'd started to see the truth and draw more and more of Ghost personality out into the light. The man was tough, but he also had an affinity for silly little jokes Soap would have heard from his dad when he was younger.

Ghost was serious, but he was also self-confident and playful. He would be more than willing to drop a smug comment about how good he was or make some dry comment after Shepherd had spoken, usually a comment that would get Soap in trouble because he'd be laughing too hard.

Soap liked to think that over the two years of working with Ghost, he'd gotten to really know the man. He'd learned the big things, like Ghost's humor and how his voice sounded when he was upset by something, it would always break somewhere toward the end of his sentence. He'd learned the little things too, like how Ghost liked his coffee and the fact that he would only eat eggs if they were scrambled.

He hadn't realized until he'd been alone in the streets of Las Almas, sure he was going to die by himself, with no one there. He hadn't realized until then that he loved Ghost. He'd tried the man over the radio at first, calling for him several times. No answer came through and a thick pooling of dread formed in his throat. He'd collapsed to the ground soon after, his heart heavy and his mind telling him to just give up.

Then he'd heard it, Ghost's voice on the line, calling for him with concern. His heart had given a large burst of affection, warmth filling him despite the cold and wet atmosphere around him. Ghost was alive, he was alive and he was waiting for Soap. He was giving Soap comfort in the form of his stupid little jokes and quips. Soap realized when he was in the cafe just how much he seemed to react to the other man. He realized with startling clarity that somewhere along the line of annoying the shit out of the man and befriending him, he'd managed to fall for him.

That realization should have been lovely for him. It should have made him feel warm all over when he came to that conclusion. He was in love with Ghost, and he'd always been taught that love was a good thing. But he knew Ghost. He'd learned practically everything about the man. Which meant he also knew that Ghost was still stuck, was still in love with someone else. Someone long dead.

Soap had first learned about Roach in the locker room after a mission. They'd been cleaning up and Ghost had stripped his shirt off, leaving nothing but his identification disk on. Soap had noticed then the shiny pair of dog tags that sat next to Ghost's disk.

He hadn't said anything about them at the time. It wasn't until a few weeks later when he saw them again that he asked. He could see them much closer this time, they'd fallen out of Ghost's shirt when he'd leaned across him to grab something. Soap had caught the glinting of the silver and the flash of a name.

"Who's Roach?"

He saw Ghost tense. He'd watched the other man quickly tuck the tags back under his shirt and he'd been surprised when his LT had replied with a rather harsh, "Mind your own, MacTavish." He knew immediately that whoever Roach was, he was a sore subject for Ghost.

He'd done some quick research on the tags then. With identification disks, they stayed with the soldier no matter what, but as he learned quickly, that wasn't the same with dog tags. He'd felt horror creep up his throat as he read on. If a soldier died, one of his tags stayed with him and the other went with his loved ones. Ghost only had one tag with him. Whoever Gary "Roach" Sanderson was, he was dead and he was clearly very important to Ghost.

He hadn't asked about Roach since then, but he'd picked up enough. As Ghost grew more comfortable with him, the man would occasionally mention Roach, usually with one of his hands gripping that dog tag and a bittersweet look on his face. Soap had seen people grieve before. He knew the process. He knew that Ghost was still grieving.

That became especially clear to him when he learned exactly who Roach had been to his LT.

They were sitting together at a bar, sipping whiskey with Price and Gaz, chatting idly. Soap had mentioned something about home, about the nature in Scotland. Ghost had given a low chuckle at his animated descriptions before commenting, "My fiance, Roach, wanted to visit Scotland at one point. Never quite got around to it."

Soap had seen the way that Ghost gripped his drink tighter and brought it up to his mouth, taking a quick swig of it. Likely to wash down the wave of emotions that had been drawn from him. Soap felt terrible for the man, his heart aching for the loss he felt. But he also recognized fully that Ghost was still in love with Roach.

He'd seen the way Ghost's eyes had lit up, he'd heard the softness in his voice, he'd seen the tell tale signs that the man was giving a soft sort of smile under his mask. He knew. He'd seen it. He knew that Ghost was still in love with his dead fiance. The man had clearly never let himself fully grieve, and the fact that he would occasionally speak about Roach as though he were still alive only told Soap that for certain. The fact that he'd accidentally called Soap the other man's name on several occasions, with an immediate apology afterward, also made it clear that the man was still grieving.

So, he was in love with Ghost but Ghost was still in love with a dead man. He couldn't offer much in the way of helping Ghost to grieve, but he could do what he could to protect him. If that meant fighting off people who tried to get to his LT by pretending to be a dead man, than Soap would do it.

"Hey, Soap!" Soap stopped from where he'd been walking to meet with Price to discuss his and Ghost's next mission. He recognized the man who called out to him, he worked in the visitors center. That was why it surprised Soap so much when the other man asked, "Have you seen Ghost?"

Soap wrinkled his brows, "I think LT is in his office." The man had given him a nod and moved to go past him, Soap stopped him with a hand around his arm, "Why do you ask?"

The other man shrugged him off, "He has a visitor, guy said he was Ghost's fiance."

Soap felt himself freeze as he watched the other man walk away from him, headed toward Ghost's office. Something was clearly wrong. Ghost's fiance, Roach, he was dead. That meant that whoever was outside claiming to be him, was someone who was actually here to get to Ghost somehow. Potentially there to hurt him. Soap wasn't going to let them get the chance.

With that thought in mind, he turned quickly marching his way toward the visitors center with anger burning in his chest. How dare someone try to use Ghost's grief to get to him? How dare someone pretend to be a dead man, a dead man who deserved to rest.

He spotted the man as soon as he walked into the visitors center, he knew it had to be him because he was the only other person in the room. He was a shorter man with messy hair and soft brown eyes and if Soap wasn't so pissed that this man was impersonating his friend and crushes dead partner, he would have noted how good looking the man was.

As it stood, he marched toward the man, calling, "Hey, you Ghost's fiance?"

The other man turned to him, startled. Soap watched as his eyebrows furrowed together, confusion and a bit of trepidation on his face. Soap expected that, after all, he hadn't sounded too nice when he asked. "Um, yes?" The other man shifted on his feet, "Sorry, who are you?"

"I'm Soap," he went to continue, only for the other man to light up a bit, a small smile on his face as he stepped forward and cut in.

"Oh! Hi, it's so nice to finally meet you! Ghost has told me about you," He gave the man a soft smile and Soap found his fists clenching at his sides as the man added, "I'm Roach!"

Soap glared at him, "I don't know what game you're playing at," the surprise on the other man's face returned, "But you aren't Roach."

The man shook his head slowly, his mouth falling open slightly as he responded, "I'm sorry? I am Roach, I'm Ghost's fiance. He has told you about me, right?"

"Roach is dead," Soap bit out, "So I don't know what you're trying to do, but you should stop. I'm not letting anyone fuck with Ghost like this, it's just cruel."

The other man stared at him blankly, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open a bit. He seemed genuinely shocked by Soap's words, as though he hadn't known that Roach was dead. Soap felt a little smug at catching the other man out. "Simon," the man stuttered after a moment, "Did he tell you I was dead?"

Soap felt anger burn through him again, was this guy really going to keep trying it? "Listen," Soap started with annoyance tinting his words, "You need to-"

"Roach?" Soap froze, as Ghost's confused voice rang out around the room. He turned just a bit, just enough that he could see Ghost's furrowed brows as he stared at the two men in front of him. "Soap? What are you doing here?"

The man behind him pushed forward, his face fixed into something rough as he asked, "Simon, did you tell your team that I was dead?!"

Ghost seemed taken aback by the question, his eyes widening as he shook his head, "No? Of course not, why would I do that?"

Soap turned to the man next to him wildly then, "Wait you're actually Roach? You were telling the truth?"

The man, Roach apparently, nodded to him rapidly, "Of course I was telling the truth! Why did you think I was dead?"

"You thought Roach was dead?" Both of the men's attention turned fully to Soap and he found himself flushing red, cool embarrassment running through his system.

He stuttered for a moment, trying to explain himself, "Ghost only wears one of your dog tags and that usually means the person is dead, I looked it up! And," he wheeled around to point at Ghost, "You kept talking about him like he was dead! All of the 'Roach wanted to go to Scotland, never got around to it' type of stuff didn't help me!"

"Roach did want to go to Scotland," Ghost stressed, stepping closer to him, "He just hasn't mentioned it in a while which is why I said 'wanted,' not because he was dead!"

"I still want to go to Scotland!"

Soap turned to Roach with wide eyes. He'd potentially just made the worst first impression that he ever could with someone. "I am so sorry! I really thought you were dead!"

A moment passed where Roach just stared at him before, to his surprise, the man gave a small laugh. He covered his mouth with his hand to try and hide it, but Soap could still see the mirth in his eyes and he flushed red again. "It's okay," he gave another laugh, "I'm actually kind pleased to know that you were ready to punch someone out for impersonating dead me." He gave another laugh, the sound of it flowing through Soap and warming him considerably.

Ghost made his way over to the two fully, rolling his eyes as he did, "Next time you think someone is impersonating one of my dead loved ones, MacTavish, just let me handle it." Soap watched him wrap an arm around Roach, tugging him closer. He watched the man tug his mask up and lean down to connect his lips to Roach's, a small smile on his face as he did. Soap watched them, his chest panging oddly at the sight.

"Right," he muttered out lowly, "Sorry."

"Hey," Roach pulled away from Ghost suddenly, beaming at Soap with a bright grin, "I'm taking Ghost out for lunch later, why don't you come with us? Could get to know the not dead version of me."

Soap felt warm at the offer, something in him pulling pleasantly at the idea of spending some time with not only Ghost, but Roach as well. "I wouldn't want to intrude," he spoke carefully.

Roach was quick to wave him off, "You wouldn't be intruding, silly. I invited you! Come with us?"

Soap stared at him for a moment, mapping out the lines of his face and just how attractive Ghost's fiance (not dead) really was. Finally he gave a nod, feeling hot all over as he responded, "Okay, yeah. Sure."

Roach gave him another one of those beaming grins and he could have sworn he felt his heart stutter over in his chest. "Excellent! Meet us by the parking lot in an hour, yeah?"

Soap gave a simple nod to the two men before watching them retreat further into the base, Ghost's arm still wrapped around Roach as they walked. Soap could see Roach talking animatedly to Ghost from where he stood.

Soap realized that the two things that had been almost fact to him for the past several months needed to be revised. He was in love with Ghost and Ghost was still in love with his dead fiance, Roach. Those weren't true anymore.

Soap knew better now. He knew the truth. Soap knew three things: he was in love with Ghost, Ghost's fiance was alive and unbelievably attractive, and he was absolutely whipped for two men who were dating one another. He thought he might add a fourth thing to that list as well: he was absolutely fucked.

NEVER EVER DOUBT ME AGAIN I WOULD NEVER WRITE DEAD ROACH ARE YOU GUYS CRAZY???????

FUCK THE ROACH IS GHOST'S DEAD FIANCE TROPE, ITS BEEN DONE, ITS DEAD, I'M KILLING IT GET THAT SHIT OUT OF HERE

RAHHHH SOAP/GHOST/ROACH FOREVER RAHHHH HIMBO SOAP RIGHTS RAHHHHH

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Earlier today I posted about John Robins' Chortle blog from the 2007 Edinburgh Festival. This made me remember that we do have other records of him around that time, when he sat in with Jon Richardson on the BBC 6 Music radio show while Russell was in Australia. And he was a guest on the Jon Richardson Show a few times, post-Russell's departure, in 2008-09. All of which I of course re-listened to a little while ago, because I've been following his other podcast/radio/TV/stand-up things alongside the radio show in chronological order, and those were rare examples of stuff from before the XFM chronology. So I listened to it a while ago, but was reminded of it today by those Chortle things, and as a result I now have a terrible song stuck in my head that I need to tell people about.

On the BBC 6 Music show in January 2009, they played a song off what they referred to as his "album", and I was surprised I hadn't heard of that before. John sometimes talk about how he was in a few bands when he was young, but they all sound like very, very low-level things that did a few student gigs but wouldn't have released an album. I had no idea there was a John Robins album out there.

They then played the song, and it was really weird. It was clearly a joke, but it wasn't really comedy. I mean, I guess it's technically comedy. But it didn't seem like enough of a joke to justify how bad it was. Like the lyrics were meant to be funny, but the song itself wasn't a joke, it was meant to be a genuinely funny song. That they released on an album full of, they promised us, similar songs. As of January 2009, this was something that had just come out, and he was playing it on Jon Richardson's radio show in what appeared to be an earnest attempt to get publicity and sell it, he read out a link where people could go to buy the album (obviously I immediately went to that link and it is long dead, a quick look around the internet suggests that it is no longer for sale).

I was listening to this 2009 radio show, and I kept waiting for John Robins to make some sort of joke about it. To acknowledge that this was a really weird stupid thing he did, and they were playing it on the radio as a sort of bit. But that never came.

Here's the relevant clip from that radio show, where they talk about the album and then play the song:

So, the album is called Doing it with Women. The song they played is the title track. I can see where he was going with it. I think that kind of thing was big in the 00s, over-the-top masculine bravado where the joke is that obviously this man is not actually fucking all those bitches as he claims. Kitson used to do a lot of that, it was actually a staple of Chocolate Milk Gang humour in its day. Parody rap battles and shit like that. Obviously people still do comedy like that, but I think it was particularly big in those years. But I think that stuff only works if you make it really, really clear what you're doing. And this song... nothing was clear about it. Nothing was clear and it did not work at all. It doesn't work as comedy, and it definitely doesn't work as music.

I did listen to that episode initially and think, this seems like something I'd expect from a much younger John Robins. Like when they played those excerpts from his days as a student DJ at Oxford, and it was painfully bad but also adorably earnest and sweet and fun to listen to. The Doing it with Women song would make sense if someone uncovered a thing that John Robins made as a university student. Not something he put out in 2009, when I am listening to it for the sake of hearing young John Robins be young, but still, he was well into his comedy career and in his late twenties.

Because of this, I was quite pleased when a few weeks after listening to that, I reached the April 2017 episodes of the Radio X show, when John and Elis covered the drive time slots five nights a week, and had too much time to fill and may have been hard up for content. John Robins mentioned that he once put an album out, and Elis asked him when this was, and John replied, "Far too recently." This was a relief to me - he does know now. He might have been too old by 2009 to think this was a good idea, but at least by 2017, he was aware that not only was it a bad idea, but it was the sort of idea he really should have outgrown by that age.

John: I think it speaks volumes to how embarrassed I am of the album that -

Elis: That you've gone crimson.

John: That in three and a half years of doing this show, I've never mentioned it. Even though it would make for quite good content.

And that would be why I hadn't heard of this album before, even though I didn't listen to the BBC 6 Music stuff until I was already a ways into the XFM/Radio X show (I did break the chronology following a little bit there), and would have expected to know about something like that. Again, here's the relevant clip:

Obviously by the next day (again, they were covering the daily slots that week so they had a lot of hours to cover and really needed the content), they had procured a copy of the Doing it with Women album and played bits of it on the radio while making fun of it. It is great fun to listen to John Robins scramble to clarify that he knows this was not an acceptable thing to record and put in an album, it was a different time, 2009, he does not stand by any of this, he respects women, really, very much. He keeps going between trying to explain why this seemed like a good idea at the time, and disowning it entirely.

For those who do not listen to this radio show and don't know how John Robins' voice normally sounds, he doesn't always sound like he's about to cry. Just when he's talking about terrible albums he made not long enough ago (I mean, I have heard a few other things make his voice crack like that, but not all that many).

Anyway, the reason for this post is that reading those Chortle blogs today reminded me of this story, and being reminded of this story made me think of that song - the title track that he played on the BBC 6 Music show in 2009. And that is why, all day now, I have had "Doing it with women is my favourite kind of hobby" stuck in my head. Because as terrible as the song is, it's got a beat that can be hard to extract from your brain, and it's incredibly annoying. It's really, really annoying, and it's been stuck in my head for so long now, I try playing other songs but then that one just comes back in. So I thought I'd share this and inflict it on other people too. I can't carry this alone.

[phantomdoofer]

Everybody Loves a Clown

Trigger warning for blood, dismemberment, death, and abuse.

Paolo hunched in his room, fiddling with a small radio he'd snuck from the trash. After cooking, it was his favorite thing to do. He rubbed his cheek where his father had backhanded him. The imprint of his ring was visible on his cheek. He hated that ring. He'd been hit with it enough. His father Giorgio fiddled with it constantly, and never took it off.

Mama never liked it, either. His missed his mother dearly, but she'd passed away last year. His father had been very tight-lipped about what happened - one day she'd simply fallen over, shaking and convulsing, and he'd rushed her to the hospital. A few hours later, she was gone.

He dropped the tiny screwdriver, his mind drifting to her face. He missed her so much. It was one of the only things he and his father agreed on. Unfortunately, ever since she'd passed, he'd been pushing him even harder.

You're not gonna be some damned cook! You're gonna get a real job!

Paolo picked the screwdriver back up. Even though he enjoyed working on mechanical stuff, the thought that it pleased his father had started to make him hate it, too. But he knew, so long as the man lived, he had no hope of being a cook, his true passion. So he tinkered, and read, and refined his knowledge.

Maybe once I'm free of him, I can do what I really want.

He clipped the last wire into place, and carefully put the faceplate back on. He twisted the power knob, and scratchy noise came out. Well, it's got power at least. Let's see if I can get anything. Carefully he twisted the tuner, searching for a station. After several seconds, a scratchy tune squeaked out of the speaker.

Paolo smiled. Success! He twisted the knob, looking for other stations. Then he caught a new one:

"*Squark* ...reports are... Demons have turned their sup...eapon on ... Ninda... at least five cities, including the capitol, destroyed... casualties... millions..."

The radio gave a last screech and burst into flame. Paolo quickly threw a cloth over it, smothering the flames. Then the meaning of the broadcast hit him.

They destroyed our home.

Though they lived in an Allied nation, his father had been very vocal about supporting their old homeland. "'Bout time they did somethin' right," Giorgio had said, "that's right, take it all back! We deserve it!"

Paolo ran to the living room. He might hit me again, but he better hear this. As he turned the corner, he started to speak. "Dad, did you hear what-"

He stopped. The TV was on, and the news showed images of the capitol city, a melted, burning pile of slag. Giorgio sat staring at the screen, his mouth slack, completely stunned.

"D-Dad?" Paolo approached cautiously. His father could be explosive, but he'd never seen him like this. Paolo waved a hand in front of his face, but there was no reaction, not even a blink.

Paolo quietly backed away. If it meant he could just exist unmolested for a while, he'd take it. As he moved through the doorway, though, he heard Giorgio spoke. "They... that can't be right... why would... we were winning... they... they're all..."

Paolo quickly darted back to his room. He closed the door just in time to hear his father roar in rage followed by a crash that sounded suspiciously like the TV going through a window.

Paolo looked down from his bedroom just in time to see Giorgio storm out into the front yard, waving his hands and ranting at the top of his lungs. He turned, and Paolo ducked back, hoping he hadn't been seen. He'd caught just a glimpse of tears on his father's face, and he knew if Giorgio knew he'd seen it, he'd beat him red and yellow out of his own embarrassment of being seen to be "weak."

The ranting continued for several minutes, until he heard a police siren out front. Guess the neighbors called the police again. He peeped out in time to see Giorgio being loaded into a squad car, still ranting. As the car began to roll away, Giorgio looked up, and Paolo was shocked. For once, on his father's face wasn't rage, but sadness, fear, and grief.

Paolo sat against the wall, considering what he'd seen, and what he'd heard. After several minutes of turning it over in his head, he came to a conclusion. Dad thought we'd take over the world, but those Demons just wiped most of us out. How much family did we just lose? We might be an endangered species now.

While he hadn't thought he'd care, the thought chilled him. His vivid imagination, so long suppressed, provided him with gruesome images of what the Demon's weapon probanly did to the people in those cities. His thoughts filled with the smell of burnt bread and the sound of screams.

Paolo gripped his head and cried. "Stop. Please stop." He looked over at the TV, the small video player still loaded with his favorite show. He quickly went and turned it on - shortly wacky images of cartoons and clowns danced across the screen. He laughed, his fears forgotten, the images fading as he dove headfirst into the world of the cartoon.

He climbed into his bed put the video on repeat.

~~~~

"And now, please welcome to the stage, this year's valedictorian, Paolo Totino!"

The audience politely applauded as Paolo took the podium. He looked into the audience - Giorgio had actually shown up for once, but he looked at the ground, refusing to look at Paolo. Paolo had long since learned to hide his true feelings - while he seethed inside at Giorgio's indifference, outwardly he was all smiles and charm. Just play to the crowd, Paolo. Give them the show they want.

Paolo cleared his throat. "Thank you, sir. I'll try not to keep you guys waiting, it's too hot out here." The audience laughed. Paolo smiled. "It's been an experience being here at this school, and I've felt so welcomed since I moved here. I can honestly say this is the best place I've ever been." The audience cheered. Paolo smiled once again. It's just so easy! He took on a stern demeanor. "We lost so many people in the war. You can still see the scars on the land today." He gestured at the land around them - while trees and grass had grown, the craters and burned remains of trees were still visible. The audience grumbled. "But we've pressed on, and persevered! Now it's up to us to bring the world back - not just to the way it was, but even better!" They cheered again. "Thank you."

As he stepped away and the audience cheered and clapped, he waved and pretended to stumble down the stairs. Everyone laughed. Yes, yuk it up, you plebes. Don't mind ol' Paolo, he's a big clumsy clown!He sat down and waited for the principal to start handing out the diplomas. He glanced over at Giorgio. He caught the old man looking at him, and Giorgio quickly turned away. Paolo grinned. All the fire had gone out of the old bread when the Demons had committed genocide on the Ninda. Even now, there were less than a million of their kind left in the world. Which suited Paolo just fine. He'd never met another Ninda he liked. But because of Giorgio's lethargy, Paolo had had to get an after-school job to get them by. Paolo had hardly slept the last few years, between school and work. But I did it, you old crust. I'm done. I'm at the top.

Paolo heard his name called, and he walked across the podium, smiling his shiny smile for the audience, waving cheekily for the cameras as he accepted. He did a little dance on the spot to look like he was excited. The audience laughed. He made a point to ham it up whenever he could. Everybody loves a clown, after all.

He wished sometimes he felt it in his heart.

~~~~

Paolo got out of the cab at the hospital. He'd barely had time to get his day started when someone called him: your father is in the hospital. He's not expected to survive.

Paolo felt... strange about the whole thing. If anyone had asked him how he'd feel about Giorgio dying, he'd have said good riddance to the abusive old coot. But now that it looked like it was about to happen, he felt... nothing, really. He was just here for the look of it. He'd rather be in class.

He took the elevator up to the ICU, and was met by a nurse almost immediately. "Oh, Mr. Totino. Your father is in 19. He's asking about you."

Oh, is he now? He thought. Probably wants to make some deathbed confession. He thanked her, and walked to the room.

The shriveled old crust barely lifted the covers up now. The oxygen mask barely fit around his rounded face, and his features were shriveled and dry-looking. Fell far in a year, haven't you? Paolo sat next to him. "Giorgio? I'm here. The nurse said you asked for me?"

Giorgio weakly turned his head. "You actually showed up, you little bastard. Figured you'd leave me here to die alone."

It wouldn't have broke my heart. "Well, I'm here now. What did you want?"

Giorgio coughed. "Wanted to make sure you got this before I was gone. One of these nurses would probably steal it while they moved me." He held out a hand, and Paolo held his own out. Into it Giorgio dropped... a ring. That damned ring! Paolo looked at it - the perfectly round garnet stone reminded him of a pepperoni. Paolo loathed it with all of his being. Unconsciously he rubbed his cheek.

Giorgio was too far gone to notice. "Take... care of that, Paolo. It's... the symbol of our family. It's old... no one knows how old. Don't let it... out of your sight." He reached up and grabbed Paolo's collar. Paolo was surprised the old man still had the strength. "I... mean it, boy! If... you listen to... one thing... I've ever...said... don't let it... go..."

Suddenly the hand slackened and dropped. The heart monitor flatlined, and the nurses and doctors rushed in to try and save him.

Paolo stepped back. There's no point, he doesn't want to be saved. But it made them feel better to try. He walked out of the room, feeling strange. He was finally free, but he almost felt... sad. Having someone to hate had, in a strange way, been an anchor for him. Now it was gone.

He looked down at the ring. I know exactly what to do with you.

~~~~

Paolo stood before the building, his smile glossy as the sun. He held a comically large set of scissors, and he cut the ribbon blocking the doors. "Pizzaboy's Pizz-Pizza is now officially... OPEN!" He threw his hands up as confetti launchers blasted around him. "Come on in, folks!" He honked the tomato nose on his face. Everyone laughed and went through the doors, where the staff waited to help them. The animatronics were already working, singing a jaunty tune.

Paolo thought about what it had taken to get to this point. He'd pawned the ring immediately, and he'd used that to make a series of smart investments. Finally he'd decided to live his dream - he'd opened a pizzeria. Sure, he'd had to cut some corners - animatronics weren't cheap, after all - but he was happy.

Paolo bounced from table to table, acting like the clown he was dressed as. He'd studied his childhood cartoons obsessively, and could imitate them perfectly now. The kids loved it. The parents acted a bit nervous - a seven-foot-tall clown could have that effect - but they finally got into the spirit of it. Paolo was having the time of his life.

~~~~

"Boss, you can't just keep cutting corners like this. People are starting to complain about the pizza being..."

Paolo looked up angrily. "Being WHAT?" He was testy. For some reason he couldn't get that damn ring out of his head. Maybe it's guilt? But when he'd gone to get it back, it had been sold to a collector, some Italian multimillionaire, and he wanted a king's ransom for it. He was trying to save money, but the pizzeria was so expensive...

The man flinched. "One of them said it tasted like..." he gulped, "...cardboard."

"Cardboard? CARDBOARD?" Paolo stood up, knocking things off his desk. The clown outfit made his rage even more terrifying. "I've tested and tested that recipe! It's scientifically perfect! Balanced to be the ultimate combination of taste and nutrition!"

The man flinched back even more. "The recipe's not the problem, boss! It's the ingredients! The budget just don't allow for the stuff we need to make it work!"

Paolo slammed his hands down on the desk! "No excuses! You're just not trying hard enough! MAKE IT WORK!" He shoved the man out of his office and slammed the door. He flopped down in the chair, which creaked alarmingly. He brooded. I've got to get it back. Somehow.

~~~~

Outside, the manager was met by the few employees still working. Most of them had walked out by now. "So what'd he say, boss?"

The boss shook his head. "He said "make it work." Like we're not stretched to the limit as it is."

Another worker spoke up. "Make it work? We're losing customers fast! We can't keep up! If we can't improve the quality, we'll lose what few customers we got left!"

"At least the animatronics still work," a third said. "But I swear I saw the boss put something weird in them the last time he worked on 'em..."

The boss shook his head. "No, we can't do this anymore." He clapped his hands. "I'm out. Anyone staying?"

They all looked at each other, and shook their heads.

"Figured that'd be your answers. Come on, let's get out of here."

~~~~

Paolo worked furiously on a small device he thought would improve the animatronics. If they can make their own decisions, they'll be even better! I could sell the tech and make a fortune! He'd found the parts in an abandoned building, near the edge of the city. The only problem was, it looked like Old Tech. Even I can't replicate that. He held it to the light critically. I'll try it tomorrow.

He put it in a desk drawer, stood up, and tweaked his bowtie. Time to go play to the crowd! He stepped out... to an empty dining room. He looked around. No customers, no staff. He ran to the kitchen. No one. A note sat on the counter. He read it...

Boss, we can't do this anymore. We're all quitting. We all got offers from other pizza places around the city. We loved this place at first, but you're running it into the ground. If you ever decide to be your old self again - somebody who cared about quality over money - let us know. Sorry.

Paolo crumpled the note. Ungrateful bastards. He yelled at the ceiling in frustration. "Fine! I'll just do it myself! I don't need them!" He ran outside into the street, desperately playing the clown. "Come on in! Best pizza in town! You'll have a great time!" The person he'd approached cringed away, shaking their head. He ran up to a family. "Come on! Lots of fun at Pizzaboy's Pizz-Pizza!" The little girl started crying, and the father pushed Paolo away. "Back off, you freak!" He hustled them away.

Paolo went from group to group, getting more desperate with each one. Everyone was scared or disgusted. Finally, a police officer approached him. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stop harassing people, we're getting complaints."

Paolo turned and grabbed his shoulders. "I'm just trying to get customers, YOU IDIOT!"

Everyone around gasped. One woman spoke up. "Well, with an attitude like that, I'll never eat there!" Cries of "For shame!" and "what a jerk!" echoed around Paolo. He looked around. His dream was falling apart. He wanted to cry.

The officer brushed him off. "Lay hands on me again and I'll arrest you. Now get inside before I have the place closed down!"

Paolo's shoulders slumped as everyone walked away.

~~~~

All he knew was he had to get it back. Nothing else mattered.

Paolo looked out the window of the plane. What am I doing? He was flying to the city where the man who'd bought the ring lived. But why? I'm broke, I can't buy it back...

As he left the airport, he walked towards the address he'd found. The man's mansion was luxuriant, covered in stonework and vines. Classical Tuscan architecture, he remembered. He pushed a button at the gate.

A stuffy voice came though. "May I help you?"

Paolo cleared his throat. "Yes, sir, I've come to see your Master. My name is Mr. Totino, I believe I had an appointment?"

"Very good, signore," the stuffy voice said. The gate opened. "Come in. The Master waits for you upstairs."

Paolo passed through the huge front doors and walked up a grand stairway. At the top, a butler bowed and opened a door. "In here, signore," the same stuffy voice said.

Paolo entered, and was greeted by a corpulent man sitting behind a deep red desk. Balding, fanning himself, he waved Paolo forward. "Come in ragazzo, come in." Paolo sat. "You said you had something to ask me? About your ring?"

"Yes, sir," Paolo said. "You know I've made several overtures to you about repurchasing that ring." He shifted uneasily in the chair. "I'm afraid I'm... no longer liquid enough to try to buy it from you. But I've come to plead. Sir, that is a family heirloom, one I'm sorry I ever let go. Would you ever consider just... letting me have it?"

The man laughed raucously. "GIVE it to you! Don't be absurd, boy! If you wanted it, you never should have sold it!"

Paolo blushed, repressing his fury at the casual dismissal. "I was desperate, sir, and young and foolish. I know better now. I'll ask again sir - will you return what's mine?"

The man's face grew red. "The cheek on you! Even if was willing to just hand such a thing over-" he twirled it in a maddeningly similar way to how Giorgio had - "I've grown attached to it. So no. I'll never part with it. Now get out of here before I have you thrown out!"

Paolo stood and bowed stiffly. He was absolutely furious. As the gate crashed shut behind him, a plan started to form. It's mine. It's MINE.

~~~~

The man grunted as he settled into his bed. His back ached. I should see if my doctor can give me anything for that. He shuffled his awkward weight around. He was always hot now. Air conditioners are crap these days!

He heard a faint noise. He whipped around and turned the light on. "Chi è là?"

No one. He was alone.

The man snorted and turned the light back off. Jumping at shadows. He closed his eyes.

Another noise. Before he could reach the light, a hand clamped down on his face with unbelievable strength. He could just see a pair of red points hovering above... a clown suit?? A glossy grin hovered between those hellish lights and a bowtie.

Then he noticed the glint of a knife.

Before he could react, the knife plunged into his belly. He screamed, the sound muffled by the glove-covered hand on his face. It plunged down, again and again, into his gut, his arms, his legs, his chest. He tasted blood. He screamed, but it couldn't get past the damned glove.

As his mind swam with pain and blood loss, he felt the figure fiddling with his hand. He shrieked as he felt his ring finger being sawed off. He trembled as they held up their prize, the round red ring glinting as his severed finger slid out of it. As his mind faded, he heard a familiar voice.

"It's mine... It's MINE..."

~~~~

Paolo slid the ring onto his finger. At last, I've got it back! He smiled happily. Now that he had it back, the world felt right again. He glanced down at the corpse. Good riddance. He stalked past the body of the butler and the gate guard. Should have hired better people!

As he stood in the dark street, he felt a strange urge to go west. He started walking, a manic grin on his face.

~~~~

He didn't know how long he'd been walking. Days, definitely. Maybe weeks. But now he was sure he was where he needed to be.

He dug through the rubble of the ruins, not entirely sure what he was searching for. You'll know it when you find it.

He wasn't sure why he was so confident. But he knew beyond a doubt he was right.

He saw a depression in a stone wall that looked no different than the hundreds of others. He pressed it, and the wall vanished. He walked inside, and the wall reappeared. He was inside some sort of structure, descending downwards. He walked down a spiral staircase, the purple stone dusty and piled with debris. As he looked around, he saw faint lights imbedded in the stone.

He walked downwards for what seemed like forever, until he found a room full of... monitors? He walked over to a control panel, and somehow knew which button to press. The screens flickered, and the lights brightened. Welcome back, the words flashed on the screen in front of him.

He sat in a stone chair, fascinated. It was more advanced than anything he'd ever seen. At first the words were incomprehensible, but suddenly they had switched to his own language. He read a list. Cloning tanks, tesseract controls, cloaking systems, weapon controls, teleportation systems, reconstruction protocols... what is this place?

Then, somehow he knew - he was home.

Pizzahead sat back and grinned. He twirled the ring on his finger.

[midorishinji]

Clair de Lune

"One word from you will silence me forever, I hope you know that, but for that you need to say a word — your silence is distressing." "If one word would silence you forever, I hope fourteen are more than enough."

Sasuhina｜Oneshot｜Also published in Portuguese and on AO3

It was a lazy Thursday morning, in the middle of an unpromising autumn — or at least that's what Sasuke Uchiha thought. He tore one of the pages off the calendar without thinking much: today was September 22, 1988, the year in which the Iran-Iraq War came to an end, just over a month ago, after almost a decade of conflict; it had also been the year of the death of the Chinese president and the beginning of the USSR's economic restructuring, and the Gare de Lyon accident in Paris as well. It had been a troubling year to the world and, at the same time, a period of never-ending boredom for him, a mere high school student.

He left home for his first class of the day when it was early and the cold morning breeze dragged orange leaves away from the dry branches of the trees on his street. Next to him lived a fellow student and classmate, Hinata Hyuuga: the two hadn't really spoken to each other since they were children when they used to play together, and he rarely paid attention to her. Hinata had always been shy and reclusive, and this proved true even today when she walked every day protected from human contact by the headphones attached to her walkman. They didn't greet each other, as usual, they just followed the same path, in the same solitary and silent company as always.

Every second and fourth Thursdays of the month, the school newspaper was published, and Sasuke was an avid reader — not of the entire newspaper, but of a specific column, published by an author who hid behind a peculiar pseudonym, who wrote short stories. God forbid his swim teammates didn’t hear him say this, but he loved reading what that fantastic person, Charlotte Rimbaud, had to say!

Naruto, his best friend, knew this, and arrived at his locker with the most recent copy of the newspaper. — Your favorite author outdid herself this time, 'ttebayo ... I’ve read it, just out of curiosity, I mean, I wanted to see what it was all about since you like her so much, dattebayo …

— I like what she writes. — Sasuke corrected him, without taking his eyes off the math book he intended to pick up as he extended his hand towards the locker.

—Same thing, ‘ttebayo .

— I don't even know her.

That was the problem: Sasuke Uchiha, the boy who could have whoever he wanted in that damn school, couldn't have the only person he wanted because he didn't even know who she was. This bothered him, far beyond his wounded pride: it didn't matter if Charlotte Rimbaud didn't want him as a boyfriend, but perhaps as a friend or merely a fan, it would have been good enough for him. He needed to meet her and know what was going on inside the head of this extraordinary person.

— And you'll never know if you keep being a coward, dattebayo .

The bell rang before he could say anything else, and the two headed to the classroom. At the door, Sasuke bumped into his neighbor, who was carrying the journalism and literature club's attendance lists and other documents: perhaps that was a sign, he thought, before sitting down for Professor Kakashi's calculus class.

(...)

The end of the month always meant a lot of paperwork to fill out. Not that this bothered Hinata, she was already used to tedious tasks that allowed her to put on her headphones and let herself be carried away by menial tasks. At that moment, a new song served as a soundtrack to her duties: it was “Jane Says”, by Jane's Addiction; she had heard of them recently playing on the radio and she ran out looking for a cassette tape to record the song while in the first few seconds. It didn't matter that she had lost a couple of seconds of the track: the best things are discovered like that, by chance, and this loss was material proof of it.

The club room was already empty after four o’clock, except for her, who always stayed late to lock up the place and take care of the last details. It was during this moment of distraction that someone came in and suddenly took away her headphones, causing her to look up in annoyance. It was Sasuke Uchiha, from the swimming team. She knew they were neighbors, but frankly, she couldn't imagine why he was there. — Hey! — she said, taking the headphones back.

— Sorry, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a couple of minutes… — Sasuke said, very casually, as he observed the shelves full of books, carefully and meticulously organized — Anyway, I need a favor from you. I wanna know who Charlotte Rimbaud is.

—And why do you think I would know? — Hinata replied, without looking up from her papers.

— Because you are editor-in-chief of the newspaper and president of the journalism and literature club. Nothing is published without your approval. — what his tone of voice meant was: I'm not as stupid as you think.

— This means that I read what people submit for publication and I serve as a quality filter, that's all. Besides, has it ever occurred to you that anyone who is writing under a pseudonym is because they don't want to be recognized?

— Yes, but I need to know. I swear, I won't tell anyone, Hinata... I just need to know this.

She got up from her chair, taking the sheets of documents with her and giving a final tidy to a book that was slightly crooked on the shelf. — I can't help you, I'm sorry.

— A name, and I'll do everything else. She'll never know you told me. — the boy asked, blocking the path by placing himself in front of the door.

Hinata didn't give up, and turned the door handle anyway, forcing her way through. — I don't know if you've already considered the possibility, but not all the girls at this school are stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. — having said that, she put her headphones back on and, once they were both in the hallway, she locked the room and went to the principal’s office to deliver the documents. Meanwhile, Sasuke remained leaning against the wall, trying to come up with a plan to convince her to spill the beans.

(...)

— She didn't even want to hear what I had to say. She said she couldn't help me and that was that. And worse, she even said that not every girl in that school would fall for my bullshit! Can you believe it?

On the other end of the line was Naruto, who laughed at that crazy conversation. It was the first time he saw Sasuke Uchiha defeated to the point of not even being able to recognize it. —And is she wrong, dattebayo ? One time or another you were gonna fall off your high horse…

— I'm serious. I need to know who Charlotte is, and Hinata is my chance.

— One thing you already know, she's a woman, from what Hinata said... Why don't you try asking someone else at the club, 'ttebayo ?

— I've already tried: I spoke to Shino Aburame, and he said he didn't know anything. Sakura laughed right at me and said it's good that Hinata roasted me, so I can stop being an asshole. Kiba told me he didn't know anything either, but he looked so nervous that I suspect he’s lying…

— Then just go after Kiba and that's it, dattebayo .

— I tried, but he said that if I'm smart I'll get it, and that's it. After that, he hung up on me and he won’t answer my calls at all... And at school, he's avoiding me like crazy, I don’t know what else to do.

— Seems like nothing will come out of it then, dattebayo .

— My only option is Hinata. She has to give in at some point, right?

— I don't know, you know her better than me, 'ttebayo . Is she the type to crack under pressure?

Hell no, that's what Sasuke thought. They might not have been that close, but he knew that Hinata was as tough as nails, and when she got an idea in her head, there was no way to convince her otherwise: he remembered well when the school management tried to close the newspaper, and she just didn’t oppose it, she actually started the most successful publication right around that time and then managed to get a petition signed by the entire student body to convince the administration against closing down the newspaper. That's exactly how Charlotte Rimbaud's first story came about: out of spite. — Yeah, no, maybe that's not the best strategy... But I think you gave me an idea, so thanks anyway.

(...)

The following week, Kiba brought a stack of letters and left them on Hinata's desk, as she worked on the layout of the first page of the next edition very carefully. That broke her concentration, and she immediately questioned him. — What’s that?

— Letters from an admirer to Charlotte Rimbaud. He insists that they should be published in the newspaper for her to see. At first, I thought it was a prank, but we already have about fifteen stored in a drawer; it just seems like way too much work for a joke... By now, he should have given up if he wasn't serious. Wanna give it a read? — Kiba said, bringing the pile closer to her.

— No. As far as I'm concerned, you can throw it all away. — she replied, impassively.

— He said he won't stop sending until Charlotte answers him. He seems to be a pretty big fan.

She took the first one from the pile and opened the envelope.

“To Charlotte R.,

There's no one at this school who's a bigger fan of yours than me. I will continue sending letters until you answer, no matter how long it takes: you don't have to say your name if you don't want to, but I have so many questions and so much curiosity that knowing more about you would be enough. One word from you will silence me forever, I hope you know that, but for that you need to say a word — your silence is distressing.

Who are you, anyway? What do you like to do, to read? What kind of music do you listen to? What kind of TV programs do you watch? How do you manage to write your stories like that, so easily? What do you hide?”

— They're not signed, but the handwriting is the same, so they must be from the same person. — the Inuzuka said.

— You can throw it away. — Hinata replied, without hesitation. She felt her fists clench as she tried to control her reactions.

But Kiba had known her for way too long to see through that disguise. — Are you sure you don't want to read the others? They're not signed, like I said, but if I had to bet on a name, I think we both already know who it is, right?

— Sasuke’s an asshole, that's all. He just can't stand not having what he wants.

— And you're gonna let him send letters forever?

— He'll get tired soon and give up on this idea, and we'll be free of the problem.

— No, we will be pretending that the problem doesn’t exist, and that’s two completely different things. If I were you, I’d fix this.

With that said, he walked away from the table. They were the last two in the room, and soon, Kiba left her alone, while Hinata wrote down her response to a certain very persistent admirer on a piece of paper.

(...)

— She wrote back to me, can you believe it?

The excitement was noticeable in Sasuke's voice after he saw the small white envelope inside his locker. It wasn't signed or anything, but who else could it be? It had to be Charlotte! His insistence was certainly worth the price.

— And what did she say, dattebayo ? — Naruto asked, curious.

— I don't know, I haven't opened it yet… — the Uchiha unceremoniously tore open the envelope and then found the message that was there.

“If one word would silence you forever, I hope fourteen are more than enough.

Charlotte Rimbaud”

Naruto burst into infectious laughter, while his friend remained in disbelief. — Wow, what a woman… And she does have a sharp tongue, doesn’t she, ‘ttebayo ?

Sasuke, however, remained silent, still in shock. He had never imagined that his strategy would backfire…

Trying to cheer him up, his friend hugged him, patting the Uchiha on the back as they both walked to math class. — Give up on this while you're still on top, man. Actually, you’re not on top of it now, damn, dattebayo… !

— Your optimism impresses me. — the other boy grumbled. The classroom was still empty, as the bell hadn't rung, but little by little students began to arrive.

Naruto wasn't satisfied yet, of course, and needed to poke at the wound some more. — If you want, my mom has some Bonnie Tyler records to help you out, 'ttebayo , like “Total Eclipse of the Heart”, you know?

In the chair in front of Sasuke, sat the last person he wanted to see at that moment, Hinata Hyuuga, who arrived accompanied by Sakura Haruno, also part of the newspaper team. This certainly only worsened his mood, which became increasingly noticeable even to those who knew nothing about the situation. Like a good friend, Naruto added fuel to the fire: — Hey, girls, guess who just got dumped, dattebayo ?

If looks could kill, Naruto would be doomed by now...

— Do you have anything to do with this, Sakura? Talking shit about me to Charlotte would be very low of you... — the Uchiha said.

— You act like I need to talk shit about you to anyone, you worthless womanizer. — Haruno said, laughing, without having any real intention of offending him with the insults. The truth is that they both knew that he wasn't that bad, and that Sasuke Uchiha even had a smidge of ethics in dismissing suitors who didn't interest him and being straightforward in admitting that he didn't want anything serious. Not that that made him any less of a womanizer, of course.

— Maybe you should just give up. — Hinata said, very directly, as she put away her headphones and walkman in her backpack.

Sasuke sighed, regretfully. —That's what I'm gonna do. I promised her, didn't I? One word from you would silence me forever, as good old Mr. Darcy would say.

— I didn't know you liked Jane Austen.

— There's a lot you don't know about me, Hinata. Contrary to what Sakura thinks, I'm not a worthless piece of trash, no, at least not completely.

At least they both agreed on that. Part of ourselves is always hidden, like the dark side of the moon, and the face we show to the world is not always the face that represents us when we are alone. And sometimes we get this glimpse of who someone is when no one else is looking, which can be as surprising as swim team star Sasuke Uchiha reading “Pride and Prejudice” in his free time.

(...)

The remaining days of the month went away faster than they could imagine, and soon Halloween was knocking on the door, as was the promise of November. As promised, Sasuke didn't send any more letters to the newspaper's editorial office, and things seemed to be calmer, shrouded in the same haze of sameness as always. To his surprise, however, one rainy Tuesday morning an envelope appeared in his locker.

“If you still want to talk, Mr. Darcy, perhaps I will have some free time to read what you have to say. And, to answer your questions:

My favorite hobbies are reading and writing — my favorite book, as you may have already guessed, is “A Season in Hell”, by Arthur Rimbaud, a good last name for a pseudonym, don't you think? I like alternative music and my favorite artist is David Bowie. I don't watch much television, but I like watching new releases on MTV and watching movies, especially horror ones — my favorite is “Halloween”, even though I find the endless sequels detestable and just way too weak compared to the original. As for my writing process… I write the world as it is, beyond the appearances of normality, or as it should be; I like things that are interesting and out of the ordinary.

Charlotte R.”

To say that that letter had made him happy would be to underestimate his reaction: Sasuke Uchiha was ecstatic , and could barely control the stupid and stubborn smile on his face. It would be difficult to concentrate on training today, as he realized as he walked onto the school gymnasium. The place was almost empty, with few people watching the training sessions: winter was approaching and despite the pool being heated, it was still unbearably cold in the gym due to the lack of thermal insulation; it was probably the same feeling as getting inside a refrigerator, if he had to bet...

The coach, at the end, praised his performance and said that whatever had increased his motivation, it was good to keep close by — a thought that the Uchiha obviously agreed with.

Sitting down on one of the benches next to the bleachers, he saw a familiar figure, writing in a notebook. It was Hinata, and she didn't notice him until he was sitting next to her. — Writing much, huh?

This scared her and almost made her drop the notebook between the gaps in the seats. — Damn, Sasuke, what kind of idea, ugh…!

— Relax, I didn’t wanna scare you, I’ve just never seen you around here.

— Kiba is sick and someone needs to cover this fortnight's sports column, he's left to me, of course. — she explained, closing the notebook — What do you want?

— Nothing… But Charlotte answered me. I hope you don't mind if I send another letter to the editorial office, I don't know any other way of talking to her right now.

— It’s fine. — no questions, no complaints. This surprised him but in a positive way.

The one who actually had questions was Sasuke, who looked at the large mirror with an intricate, baroque-style frame, next door. — Is that yours?

— Yeah, a lady was throwing it out this morning, on my way here, and I brought it to take home later, Shino promised he would help me after he finished developing the pictures for the next edition. — she explained, tracing the arabesques on the frame with her fingertips. Thin, pale, and delicate fingers, like those of a pianist: Sasuke sometimes heard someone in the house next door playing, and now he was sure it was her.

Taking the mirror in his arms (which was quite heavy, he had to admit), he stood up and started down the steps. — Come on, I'll help you with this.

— I-it’s okay, Shino… — Hinata still tried to argue.

— Will take a long time, because developing photographs takes a long time. I know because my brother is a photographer, and I've seen him do it a million times.

The girl didn't answer, hiding her face inside the red scarf she wore, almost as red as her cheeks. Sasuke walked beside her, wondering how she had managed to carry that heavy thing to school, and where she could have stored it (probably in the club room, because it definitely wouldn't fit in the locker, it was too tall and large). What a determined mind, certainly…

Good thing the house was close by... Soon, they arrived at the Hyuuga family's yellow house, the one with sunflowers planted near the front window, from where it was possible to see the piano in the living room. — T-thank you... You don't have to be so nice to me, you know? I wouldn't ask for anything in return for letting you send the letters, you know...

— I know, and I know that I don't need to be nice to you or anyone else: I just wanna be. — Sasuke said, with a small smile of satisfaction. He was a person who didn't smile much — Are you sure you don't need help putting this up on the wall?

— No, my dad can help me with that, he should be getting home by now. Thank you, really, Sasuke.

It might not have seemed like much, but those simple words made a strong impression on Sasuke and, if he could describe it, he would have said that they melted his cold heart a little. There's a lot of beauty in being simple and to the point, and Hinata Hyuuga sure has a way with words, a certain firmness of character, he thought, as he walked into the house as well. It was a funny thought to have, accompanied also by a vague feeling of déjà vu .

(...)

Night fell and, for the first time in months, Sasuke heard the sound of the piano next door. First, someone playing a few stray notes, and then a familiar melody: "Clair de Lune", by Debussy. His mother, particularly, liked this piece: Mikoto, who was cooking dinner, stopped what she was doing for the next few minutes to listen to the music. Sasuke walked down the stairs and stood next to her, carefully savoring each of the notes, and the emotion behind them.

— Hinata plays so well. It's a shame she barely has time to play now... — his mother said, sighing deeply.

— I know. — Sasuke replied, in a tone of melancholy that he couldn't understand and, for the first time, there was a flash of pain in his heart, as if something was missing, and he couldn't understand exactly what it was.

He returned to his room after the song ended, still surrounded by a magical mist, which left him intoxicated. I wish I could’ve sat next to Hinata while she played, and recorded the song to listen to it countless times, or until the cassette tape fell apart from being used so much, just to be able to replicate the magic of that short moment a little bit more. He wrote, motivated by a hallucinated fervor, everything he wanted to say to Charlotte Rimbaud.

(...)

Half of October was gone in the blink of an eye, and the second fortnight would bring another publication of the newspaper, which Sasuke was very much looking forward to. Something had broken the ice between him and Hinata, which certainly surprised some and seemed expected by others, since they were now walking together, talking, to and from school, and he seemed to be hanging around the journalism and literature club more often than ever. The letters he exchanged with Charlotte became longer and longer, and he increasingly longed for answers.

It was a cold Friday afternoon when they were walking back home through an empty street. They knew that winter was approaching just from how the sky turned gray and dark so early, and the trees no longer had leaves on their branches.

— When are you gonna play again? — he asked, as they crossed the street towards the opposite sidewalk.

— Well, today, I guess? I don't know. Why? — the girl replied, while dodging a puddle of water, getting closer to Sasuke.

— If you’re gonna play "Clair de Lune" again, I want to record it. It's my favorite, and recently you've been playing it more often, I like it. My mom likes it when you play too, she always stops cooking to listen to you.

Hinata giggled shyly. — I can look for a cassette tape with the music already recorded by a professional pianist, I mean... It would be better than trying to use a recorder, I think the acoustics in my room aren't that good, and also, if I make a mistake...

— But it's different when you play. There's soul in every note, you know? Hard to explain.

She went silent for a moment, staring at the ground. — You know, it's funny you say that, because I think there's a little bit of me in that particular song. Not because I put my soul there, but because it has always been there , maybe even before I was born… Have you ever had the experience of recognizing something when you see it for the first time? Like déjà vu ... When I heard "Clair de Lune" for the first time, that's how I felt, as if I had already heard it somewhere, and suddenly the image of each note and my fingers playing the piano keys came into my head, even though it was long before I started playing, long before I understood anything about music. I just knew. My grandmother used to say that I was a peculiar child, an old soul, and maybe she was right about that, because I dreamed of the familiarity of old evening dresses and the glitz of the Belle Epoque , as if I had lived through it all and there was still a thread that tied me to the past, when I used to attend balls and waltz... — she paused and smiled — Or maybe I was just a very imaginative child and obsessed with a random historical period.

— My brother once told me that this reincarnation thing is probably true and that when we like people for no apparent reason it's because our souls have always attracted each other, gravitating around each other like planets around the sun. I found it very beautiful. I think he, like you, is also an old soul, and I am brand new, as modern as a color television. — Sasuke said, with a crooked smile — By the way, has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words? Right now, it’s like I felt a déjà vu too, as if I had already heard not those exact words, not those ideas, but this way, this soul behind it...

Pausing for a minute, suddenly Sasuke Uchiha felt terribly stupid, and realized the truth behind that almost comical situation: Kiba was right when he said that if he was smart he would get everything, and it seems that this thought had only occurred to him now. Arthur Rimbaud, who lived during the Belle Epoque, was an old soul just like the little Charlotte he finally met in person. — Charlotte... You're Charlotte, aren't you?

Giving up, the Hyuuga hid a little further inside the red scarf, as scarlet as she was. — Well... It looks like we've finally met, right, Mr. Darcy?

[exiled-turk]

Five years had passed since Ifalna's escape. Though it only seemed a short time on paper, there had been so much change in her life that it seemed like so much more time than it was.

Aerith was twelve. Her daughter still hadn't lived in freedom for as long as she had lived in captivity, which left its marks on her sweet baby girl. It had been hard uprooting their life again and again, but there had only been safety in constantly moving. They had to be careful. Even if the war in Wutai continued to offer some distraction, they would never be truly safe from the obsessions of powerful men — President Shinra and his pursuit of the promised land, and Professor Hojo who had lost his prized specimens.

Roran, her son, was two. Ifalna had become a mother again. Life had a funny way of continuing on through all of the chaos. So far he had a happy childhood, something that she and Glenn and even Aerith intended to protect fiercely. He was their little sunbeam, unaware of the cruelty of their world.

Some days her past felt distant. Though on the day she heard whisperings about a bombing in Kalm, that distance started to close. She kept her radio on but no news ever came. There was complete silence, though she trusted in the SRC. She trusted in their intel however vague it had been in the beginning. How big was the bombing? What building had been targeted? In a slow trickle of updates, they learned the true extent of what happened. The radio remained silent.

It had been months since that day. It played on her mind, but as with all things, life went on.

Then one day she saw a familiar but changed face. She was outside in the dry heat of Cosmo Canyon, hanging out some clean sheets at the mercy of the red soil that seemed to stain the small settlement. One moment she was carefully straightening out some twisted fabric, the next she unceremoniously dropped it in a heap and hurried to greet him.

"Veld." Ifalna uttered his name like a secret. Her arms wrapped around him in a brief hug. She knew better, knew he wasn't the hugging type — but given what she heard of Kalm, one small hug wouldn't harm him. She relented her hold after one final squeeze, then scooped up his right hand in a gentle hold. "I heard about the bombing." She didn't need to ask any questions. The answers were written over his body. Whatever happened, the outcome was something terrible. "I'm so, so sorry."

it was astounding just how much could change in five years. sixty months and his life was vastly different than it had been when he'd tracked her down through the slums, through the different sectors and losing her trail on the outskirts of midgar - only to pick it up again just outside of the corel region, a tired seven year old clinging to her and an awol SOLDIER by her side.

and he'd looked the other way. call it a lapse in judgement or blurred line, but he had been on another assignment to trace down two other awol SOLDIERs. lodbrok's cohorts, and they hadn't been there, therefore he had completed his assignment; ifalna and aerith hadn't been a part of that mission.

the same logic he'd used when gathering up some of felicia's old toys and bringing them to shinra. the same logic he'd used when instructing the research and development interns to source their meals from the staff kitchen ... he had told himself that he'd these choices went towards building rapport and would aid in retrieving the information the company sought.

aerith would be twelve now. three years younger than felicia had been.

five years had gone by and the last few months had felt longer than those few years - he'd lost his wife and daughter. he'd lost his home, friends and his left arm in a last-ditch attempt to warn kalm about the impending bombs ... but he'd lost mila and felicia and those two loses were the ones that kept him awake at night. not the phantom pains of where his arm had been or the strange sensation of a new prosthetic to get used to.

kalm was being rebuilt. but there was not rebuilding his home. no replacing or undoing what had been lost.

was that what had driven him to follow a few closely guarded secrets he'd kept buried? was that what had driven him to seek out the woman who stood across from him? he had stood in that dormitory in the days after they'd arrived back from icicle inn, before a promotion had landed on his lap, and he'd let his mind wander ... how would he have felt in her place? how would he have felt if someone had taken his wife from him?

blinking out of his reverie when arms wrapped around him in a hug, veld suppressed the initial urge to shuck off the contact, wholly caught off guard at the concern that furrowed her brow and clouded her green eyes.

' you have nothing to apologise for. it was my mistake. '

@holyguardian

[wearytaco]

Visited by Papa Legba?

So I want to preface this with I am a white (trans) man, I do not practice any sect of voodoo and am aware of the sensitivity around voodoo with people of other cultures, etc. While I grew up Christian I am not any longer and never was associated with Catholicism, I have no particular spirituality but follow closer to New Age than any specific type. And I am confused. I also want to clarify when I say "see" and "hear" in the following text, I mean in my minds-eye, not with my physical eyes/ears.

So a few years back I was visited by a spirit I later googled to be Papa Legba based on colors and vague attributes like cane and hat and such. I don't recall if I was high, meditating, dreaming, or just in a trance state. It was literally years ago. When I learned it was Papa Legba, I got really confused and decided to file it away as a one off and didn't touch it again because I have heard that there is a lot of cultural sensitivity around other cultures engaging in voodoo (idk if that's wholeheartedly true, but I didn't see a need for me to be involved for something that seemed like a one time shenanigan).

Skip ahead to a few months ago and I moved to Botswana, Africa. I recall I was attempting to look into the original religion of the area before colonization and learned about Orishas and Yoruba. I never actually got around to reading the books I downloaded, which I will be rectifying soon.

Recently I saw a video (yeah just a TikTok) about Eshu. The video strangely caught my attention and I ended up actually watching like the whole 3 minutes lol. It was mentioned Eshu was connected with the Orishas/Yoruba. Which reminded me I still have yet to read those books.

Two days ago I had a (sober) trance like experience, which I haven't had in quite a while. First there was this spirit that came. She was speaking with me, she had long dreaded like hair with beads and shells, she was wearing a white dress which almost resembled a dress slip, and she didn't seem good nor evil just neutral maybe leaning chaotic but not a proper chaotic neutral vibe. She also told me she was Haitian, which I found really strange being in Botswana. I don't recall everything we spoke of, but she mentioned she is living in the house with me, calling it "our house". While I don't see her having any ill intentions to me, I do very much get the vibe that if there was something happening to me she would end that threat. I haven't felt her here before, but I also haven't exactly been paying attention to the spirit world lately due to other distractions that have recently left my life.

While speaking with her behind me I heard the name "Eshu" being repeated over and over and over again, getting louder, but never like aggressive. Just something I couldn't keep ignoring.

I turned to look behind me towards my room and when I turned back she was gone. Cliche, in my opinion...

So I went towards my room and then felt the strange urge to use some of my spit to write "Eshu" on the wall of my room. After I had a spirit I hadn't seen in years appeared in the doorway of my room. But when he was trying to speak to me it sounded like he was being drowned out by static. It was like when you are almost on the right radio station so you can hear the song, but you can't hear the lyrics only the static. I tried asking his name because I couldn't remember it as it had been years. At first I heard "Papa" and then after another 5 or so minutes I heard "Legba" (but I legitimately thought I made Legba up and didn't believe that is what I was hearing.) It was so hard to communicate with him and all I recalled was his connection to voodoo.

Strangely, when he disappeared behind me yet again, but not in a doorway, instead near my window, I felt a spirit that called themselves Eshu. I suddenly got really sleepy. Things were clearer, but I was basically told to go to sleep by the spirit and he would give me a message in my dreams. (I remember when I first woke up going, "oh. That was the message" but then I went back to sleep and I have absolutely no idea what I was dreaming of). Before I fell asleep I looked up "Papa Legba" and realized that was his name, and then.... I saw another name in Africa, I believe it said in Nigeria and other countries, he is called Eshu. I am both floored, and really confused. Especially since it felt like two different spirits?

And then last night I felt incredibly nauseous and that was hardly able to stand up right (I am on a medicine for a few weeks now and that unfortunately is a side effect). I got the same urge to write Eshu on the wall in spit, and again at the doorway Papa Legba appeared. But this time clear and not speaking through static. However, I was mostly bent over or on my knees for s lot of the conversation due to the horrid wave of nausea I was experiencing. He offered me a deal of sorts. He asked what I wanted more or less, like we kind of just had a conversation about things I have been wanting (such as confidence, spiritual connection, sexual liberation, things I just wish I could improve upon myself). And then he asked for spit and I was about to give it to him without any thought but then I realized that may be the "handshake" so to say. So I stopped and asked why. He basically confirmed it was an offering. I asked what he wants in return if he's offering to help me with these things. He didn't really have an answer. But he did say he wants me to tell someone something. And I told him I would likely forget what he asked of me (which I have forgotten what he told me to say as predicted lmfao). And a few hours go by and ... Well I know making deals is always risky business but let's just leave it at yeah I ended up making the deal and gave him spit (I just don't understand the spit thing?? I read he likes tobacco, alcohol, and candy??) but it never truly felt like a trick. I know from briefly reading he can be considered a trickster in some circles, and I'm absolutely sure he has his own agenda. But it never felt like he wants any harm to me. In fact it truly felt like the opposite. Maybe I'm just absolutely naive. Very possible. But... I can't explain it. Anyways, after he left the woman appeared again but this time she was behind the static. I know she was saying something but I couldn't hear her not really see her in my minds-eye, but physically I felt I was closer to actually seeing her for a first. I tried for a while but then I apologized and had to walk away from her and go to bed where I felt the sleepy urge and "there will be a message" feeling again. I am truly at a loss from this experience, and since I do not engage in voodoo nor know anyone who does I can't even come close to understanding this situation. And I don't want to enter a spirituality/religion that is culturally defined where I may not be welcomed, either. Honestly I don't have much interest in voodoo other than general curiousity but I have that for most religions and spiritualities. I really would like some guidance. Please?

[natromanxoff]

Brian May live at the Fat Tuesdays in New York, NY, USA (with Les Paul) - March 25, 1991

The gig was played at Fat Tuesdays, a small nightclub that Les Paul played once a week for many years. On this night, they were filming part of a home video called Guitar, narrated by guitarist Jeff "Skunk" Baxter of Steely Dan fame. But the released video included only part of Early Morning Blues.

Fan Stories

“The gig was played at Fat Tuesdays, a small nightclub that Les Paul played once a week for many years. On this night, they were filming part of a home video called Guitar, narrated by guitarist Jeff "Skunk" Baxter of Steely Dan fame. Al Di Meolo also played that night and I believe Les Paul intros him at the end of Brian's set. It was a truly amazing night for me and the other people there. You can hear the excitement in the crowd, made up of an older, jazz crowd, including regulars that came each week to see Les Paul, and the Queen fans that had heard about it on the radio that afternoon and from friends. When we arrived at Fat Tuesdays, not knowing what to expect, there were only three other people there to see Brian. By the time he went on, though, another 50 or so people had shown up. Before the gig, I had the honor of meeting Brian, hanging by himself at the bar. I was even able to buy Brian a beer, as he had just finished the one he was drinking! Then the subject of live recordings came up (my friend blurted out, about me, 'he's got 100 live shows', to which I was a bit weary of having Brian hear. I mentioned to him that I thought he might not be too happy for fans to have unauthorized recordings, but he said no, as long as I enjoyed them, then it was fine. I even made sure to let him know that a decent portion were of excellent quality! We talked about Queen and other stuff. It was an incredible night and he was one of the nicest and most gracious people I've met. At the time, some of the Hollywood remasters had just been released. I know News Of The World was out (Brian even asked what I thought of the Rick Rubin 'remix' of WWRY... I said it was 'interesting'!)... well, I asked Brian if they had already started work on the remaster for Queen II and he said that it wasn't finished yet or they were working on it. So, I mentioned that if possible, they should include 'See What A Fool I've Been' as a bonus track, since The Game remaster had been released without 'A Human Body' (as I can remember!). He said something like 'you know, we hadn't thought of that' (what???)... and at one point, even took out a pen and paper and wrote down these ideas! Well, as we know, the Queen II remaster came out a few months later, with 'See What A Fool I've Been,' sure enough on it! Maybe it was already planned that way, but who knows! Brian also mentioned that the Queen I remaster would include an unreleased tune, which turned out to be 'Mad The Swine', but I couldn't understand what Brian was saying, so I thought he said 'Madness Wine'. After talking a bit with Brian, we realized we still weren't sure if we were even going to get into the gig, so we kindly asked him if there was somehow he might help us get in... he told us to follow him as he went into the club through the back entrance, down past the kitchen! Once inside the tiny club (where we dutifully paid our way), my friend Mike had a classic line, meant in jest (though I'm not exactly sure how Brian took it!)... he said to Brian: 'Not quite Wembley, huh Brian?'. I hope Brian took it as a joke! There was a guy after the gig that presented Brian with a homemade guitar... it didn't look like the Red Special, but supposedly sounded like it and on a subsequent in-radio 'live' performance from Brian's 'radio tour' for Innuendo, Brian wound up playing it! I can't remember which radio performance this was from, but I know he mentions it on the program. It truly was an amazing, magical night!” - Justin Leiter

(x)

[saltysaccharin]

Doctor

— [ELYSIUM] {NONCANON}

• characters :: hawks / takami keigo, ryouga atsumu + hero public safety commission (briefly)

• content :: angst, post-break up reunion, childhood friends to lovers to strangers to best friends again(?)

• warnings :: atsukei-typical angst

prompt / synopsis :: two years can change someone greatly; that doesn't mean the feelings one held toward them had to as well. unfortunately.

word count :: 1.3k

a/n :: haha this didn't go the way i originally planned because i fucking fORGOT HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO but it's okay it's basically still the same at its core just different dialogue? well most of the interaction is different from what actually happened hence the semicanon BUT I'M RAMBLING enjoy the food <3

The Wing Hero's eyebrows furrowed, accompanying the frown on his face, as he anxiously scrolled on his phone — persistently rereading the same text message over and over and over. He exhaled through his nostrils, the unease in his body unfortunately staying there rather than releasing with his breath.

He stared at his screen at the message from the HPSC, trying to wrap his head around the words that were delivered just the night before.

“ Doc Apollo will be returning to Japan shortly; I'm sure you've heard.

His private flight is scheduled for tomorrow, March 25th, and is estimated to land at 4 o'clock sharp.

A group of higher-ups, investors, and other individuals will be awaiting his arrival at an area near the hangar to welcome him.

Now, the important part: He wants you there. He specifically requested for you to be at the building itself when his jet arrives, likely intending to meet up with you as a priority.

However, this is not an order. I'm simply conveying a message.

It is up to you if you wish to be there.

That is all. ”

After everything that happened, one could hardly blame the disbelief that quickly formed. Hawks, now twenty-two years old, ran a hand through his hair, a myriad of emotions threatening to overtake him. Stress, confusion, thrill — they all boiled up to the surface akin to magma in a volcano that had been declared extinct for years.

He just couldn't understand anything. His mind raced with questions at a speed that even rivaled his own. What was he even supposed to be feeling? Why did Atsumu want to see him? Why didn't he reach out himself?

How has he been doing?

Hawks sighed heavily and leaned his head back, hitting the inner walls of the hangar. He ran a hand over his face, taking a deep, somewhat shaky breath to calm himself.

At this stage, Hawks was well past denying the fact that he definitely hadn't moved on. Maybe the second half of the first year had him fooling himself, convinced he'd be fine on his own, but he could only lie so much until the inconsistencies in his claims glared holes into themselves, eventually shattering the image of having 'come to peace with it' completely.

While it hurt to admit, pretending as if the opposite were true stung even more.

So he still liked Atsumu two years after their break up. Big deal.

Two years typically wouldn't feel like such a long time, but without anything to look forward to — without Atsumu — time passed by so excruciatingly slowly. That fact demonstrated itself so perfectly as Hawks stood in a near-empty field, staring blankly down the runway.

This was depressing. The very notion that he was even here was depressing.

But as the volume of an aircraft engine grew louder and louder, so did Hawks' heartbeat. Despite all of his nerves from just a few moments ago, in that moment, all he felt was an indescribable excitement at the thought of finally seeing his best friend again.

Because that's what Atsumu was, even after two years of radio silence.

He was his friend for much longer than that first.

Once the jet came to a full stop, it was already a few minutes past 4 p.m. Hawks didn't mind. He waited patiently, heart thrumming in anticipation, although he looked as easygoing as he ever was from afar. He steadily approached the jet, his hands in his pockets struggled to stay still as he closely watched the airstairs unfurl, and the cabin door gradually open—

"Ah, the air here's so much colder..." His voice rang like melodious wind chimes in Hawks' ears in spite of the slight rasp to it.

A yawn left the passenger's lips, small droplets of salt forming at the corners of his eyes. He brought a gloved hand up to wipe them away, simultaneously scanning his surroundings. And then, his gaze landed on the dirty blond who never took his eyes off of him since he came into view.

He froze, a hand on the railing while another rubbed his eyes comically. Hawks would've laughed had he not been holding his breath.

"...Keigo?"

The simple utterance of his name almost brought Hawks to his knees. He couldn't fall apart so easily right there; he just couldn't. Instead, he took a deep breath and smiled warmly, waving a hand.

"Hey, Ats—"

Hawks wasn't even given the opportunity to finish his greeting before Atsumu practically jumped off of the stairs and launched himself toward him. Instinctively, Hawks reached forward as well, successfully catching the other in time to feel his bubbling laughter against his chest.

Finding the sound contagious, Hawks gritted his teeth as he did his best to remain professional; distant; aloof; formal; restrained— All in vain, for he couldn't suppress the joy creeping up the corners of his lips. He joined in the childlike giggles before shutting his eyes, relishing in the moment while he got the chance to hold Atsumu this closely once more.

This was too much. He knew that.

But he was too happy to let go.

Eventually, Atsumu was the first to pull back, resting his hands on Hawks' shoulders. He seemed to get stuck, pursing his lips as he searched for something to say. His gaze then fell on where they still touched, lingering, until he timidly retracted his hands and anxiously tugged at the hems of his gloves.

"Uh—" While sounding slightly raspier, and more mature, Atsumu's voice still held every bit of 'Atsumu' that it always had. "Hi. Sorry, I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, sighing, "It's been a while, I..."

"Got excited?" Hawks chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep them to himself otherwise. Shaking his head, the Hero simply shrugged, "It's okay. I'd be lying if I wasn't happy to see you, too."

Atsumu glanced up at him, unconvinced. The fiddling didn't stop — only getting worse as he looked down at his hands, the discomfort in his knitted eyebrows growing more and more obvious.

Hawks' jaw clenched; he hoped, prayed Atsumu wouldn't bring up what he'd been avoiding thinking about since the jet landed.

He should have known better, though.

"...Kei, about what happened—"

"No, no," Hawks quickly interrupted, forcing out a laugh and putting on a bright smile, "It's okay! We were just kids, we.. didn't know any better. I understand a lot of things much more now." Words flowed too easily from his lips, as if he'd been waiting to speak them for eons. "Besides, the past is the past, it doesn't matter anymore; you're back!

"Now, we can just—" Subtly, his breath hitched as he lifted up a hand and offered the other a simple fist bump— "Go back to the way things were. If, y'know, you're fine with that."

Because Hawks definitely was. He was okay with pretending none of it happened.

He was.

Really.

The doctor didn't seem to believe him, however. His tangerine gaze flickered from place to place, searching Hawks' eyes for something. "You sure?" Atsumu asked cautiously, his worried expression ignored.

Waving a hand in dismissal, Hawks laughed once more, "Why wouldn't I be? Nothing could get between us even if we tried." That was true; it always had been, and it still was.

They both knew that.

A switch seemed to flip inside of Atsumu once he processed what was said. He smiled — a practiced, calculated thing. "That's great to hear! God, I was so nervous back there!" The merry chortle that left his mouth came very naturally, but to someone who'd heard what his genuine laughter sounded like, it was so incredibly counterfeit.

Hawks wasn't sure he liked the sudden, superficial change in demeanor.

This act was only ever reserved for people Atsumu kept at arm's length: Civilians, co-workers, Villains. Hawks was lucky enough to get a glimpse into Atsumu's truest form (as true as Atsumu could manage) back before the latter left Japan — back when they knew each other — but now...

Atsumu smiled at him the way he smiled at everyone else.

[r-anela]

Chapter 3 Old Picture of us

summary: This is the third part of " Old picture of us". For the full summary please read part one. It is the past, the reader has her second day as a freshman in high school. She meets up with her new friends and see's how Eddie is being bullied.

pairing: fem!reader x Eddie Munson

warning: In this part Bullying and some kind of harsh language. In later parts heartbreak, deppresions, alcohol, drugs, swearing,smoking..

1.Part | 2.Part

-1981- 2. Day of school

As you sat on the bus to school the next day, you still thought about the look on Eddie's face. He hadn't been on the bus this morning either, which made you think twice.

When you arrived at the school, you wanted to check the bulletin board, where all the clubs were listed - you hadn't had time to look at them yesterday.

On the way there you met Eva, you had mathematics with her now. If there was one subject you didn't like at school, it was mathematics, not that you were bad at it, but it just wasn't your cup of tea, you liked having letters in your book much more than in your math problems.

"Good morning Y/N, how was home economics yesterday? And did you get home well?" Eva said, she was a very nice girl. " Good morning Eva, everything went well, Mrs Bennett is nice. Yes, it was just too noisy for me on the bus. I hope you are well too? Would you like to come along to the bulletin board? I'd love to look at the list of clubs."

You were in a good mood this morning, so it was nice to chat. Eva smiled, "Sure. I went to the roller rink with my sister yesterday, you should come with me some day." She hooked her arm around you and walked with you to the bulletin board.

You' ve hardly experienced so much physical contact with other people in such a short time as in the last two days. It seemed totally strange to you.

When you arrived at the bulletin board, you had to push your way through the mass of students standing in front of it, it felt like everyone wanted to sign up on the lists right now.

When you finally had a look at the listings, your heart warmed up, there was a book club on the list. You would certainly find new friends there. Also listed was a club that sounded very mysterious, "Hellfire Club".

According to the description it was a D&D club, you had never played D&D, but you knew it from Richmond, your friend Beth's brother had mentioned it a few times when he heard about your love for Lord of the Rings and fantasy. So it was clear to you where you would sign up, the book club and Hellfire.

Eva stood next to you and looked at you curiously as you signed up for Hellfire, but not in an upset way, just curious. "And where are you signing up?" you asked her, as a distraction, you didn't want her to keep looking at you like that. "I'm not sure yet, but I'm guessing needlework and at the school radio" she said cautiously, as if afraid of your reaction.

"Oh very cool, you'll have to let me know when you decide!" you were really interested to see what she chooses because you already liked her a lot even if she has different interests than you.

Eva looked at you puzzled, as if she expected you to be upset with her for not having the same interests as you, even though you had only known each other for one day. "Come on mathematics don't wait for us, I just have to go by the locker and get my book" you nodded in that direction and Eva followed behind.

Maths went well, Mrs. Hobbs was a bit strict and old, but also funny. She had laid out a set seating plan, so you didn't sit next to Eva, but next to a girl named Josie and a boy named Benjamin.

Since talking was absolutely forbidden at Mrs. Hobbs unless you came forward to answer, you didn't get to know them further. Josie seemed very self conscious and didn't listen most of the time, as far as you overheard yesterday she is already a member of the cheerleaders and needs to repeat history this year.

Benjamin was a pimply faced boy with black hair who actually seemed very nice if he hadn't been staring at the butt of the girl in front of him the whole period.

The day went by without any abnormalities, at lunch you were sitting with Ashley, Eva and Ellis again. You had asked her for their name today, she was a bit surprised, she had thought she had already told you yesterday. The next lessons went well, you enjoyed everything except math, but that was not uncommon for you.

Today you went with Ellis and Ashley to the school bus, they lived not far from each other and got off three stops before you.

For the last few minutes you didn't want to get your book out, because until you started reading you would have to get off again anyway.

So you decided to look out the window, not realizing how Eddie sat down next to you and stared at you sheepishly. Only when he nudged you very lightly on the arm you noticed him. He was slightly flushed and looking down at his shoes.

" Hi Eddie, where were you this morning? You weren't on the bus." Your comment made him speechless. No one had ever cared where he was. Without answering, he put a small note in your hand and said very quietly "See you, don't open until you get home" and vanished again.

Actually you wanted to ask him what this mysteriousness is about, but then your bus stop appeared. When you got off the bus you heard "Get lost you freak, you have no purpose here, go back to where you came from" you couldn't see who had said it to whom, but your heart burst into pieces.

In Richmond you had always been called 'the strange one'.

When you reached your room, you immediately took the piece of paper Eddie had given you out of your pocket. It was clearly torn from his notepad, with a math problem still visible at one corner. On the note was written in a crooked and wobbly script 'If the young lady wants to take a trip to Mordor, be assured that my sword is always by her side. ' Underneath was written a phone number and 'available after 8pm'. You had to smile, you had judged Eddie correctly, he was just as much a fantasy nerd as you.

[fazbear-security]

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?" Freddy's ears twitched as the sound of a familiar-unfamiliar voice drifted into the party hall. He turned away from watching Chica's latest air drum solo routine, hoping to pinpoint the source. Bonnie's ears also twitched in the direction of the sound, and he waved for Chica to stop.

"You hear it, too?" The rabbit asked. Freddy nodded silently, still listening. "Where's it coming from? The radio broke last week."

"Where's what coming from?" Chica tilted her head. Freddy held up a paw for silence, and after a moment of listening, the voice came again.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot and the days of auld lang syne?" Freddy took a few steps away from the stage, following his ears, and the others trailed after him.

"It sounds....like Mike." He deduced. Foxy and Sam met him at the end of the party hall, similarly drawn by the quiet singing in the otherwise silent pizzeria.

"Our Mike? It can't be..." Bonnie shook his head. Sure, they'd never heard their night guard sing before, but he hadn't seemed like the type to randomly burst into song, either. Then again, they had only just started to get the man to open up around them...

"For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne..." Chica's tail feathers wiggled in excitement about the same time Freddy started to smile, and she made a visible effort to keep her voice down.

"It is Mike! You're right!!" She stage-whispered excitedly. Foxy made a quiet humming sound and scratched at his jaw with the flat of his hook.

"Didn't know th' lad 'ad a set 'f pipes on 'im. Sam sure don't." He paused, and quickly turned his good eye towards the animatronic standing beside him. "Er, no offense, pup."

"None taken, Captain." Sam shrugged it off.

---

"We'll drink a cup of kindness yet, for the sake of auld lang syne..." In the security office, Mike let the silence hold for a few seconds before shifting awkwardly in his chair, and looking at the phone on the desk.

"So, uh...how was that?" He asked. A light above the phone's keypad lit up, and there was a few seconds of crackling static before a voice responded.

"That was wonderful, kid." Said the voice of Houston Bell. "I really appreciate you performing for me. You didn't have to."

"Yeah, but I kind of did." The young man smiled sheepishly. "I promised I'd play you that one Christmas song you love, but then I caught the flu and Anders didn't know, so you never got to hear it-"

"Ah," Houston interrupted. "Anders and I got to have a nice little heart to heart anyway." Something in the air shimmered briefly, and Mike wondered if that was Houston's way of shrugging. "He'd known I was here since the near-murder incident, but we hadn't really gotten to talking until then." He laughed, and it ended with a small burst of static. "It's nice to know I'm not forgotten, back here."

"Oh, never." Mike smiled, and finally let himself relax into his chair. "Happy new year, Mr. Bell."

"Heh. Happy new year, kid."