#'you have to reach out of people instead of being so withdrawn'

[jarognieva]

Never try to be """"supportive"""" as my mother does

[just-some-user-hunny]

Grey ghost as your dragon ...

. Grey ghost was a considerably shy dragon.

Although shy may not be the right word to describe him, more like introverted and prone to avoiding people. He isn't particularly fond of the ruckus that humans make. They're so noisy, and nosy.

. Cattle would disappear in the hours of daylight, often in days of heavy fog and engulfing dark clouds. All common folk know to herd in their livestock on particularly cloudy/foggy days as to dissuade the grey ghost from paying them a visit.

. Befitting his name, he hides in the clouds. shrouded with silver and dark shadow as he soars silently upon the wind like a haunting phantom, the beat of his wings like a windstorm or hurricane.

. He's a very silent flyer. Arguably the quietest dragon out of all of them. He drifts and skulks like a ghost.

. His wildness is that of a bird of prey. Poised and exact, silent and puffed with pride. If he were to bond with you, you'd get to delve more into his guarded personality. He's mostly withdrawn, but he certainly wouldn't mind your company.

. Humans, to him, are both predator and prey. He's seen what they are capable of, seen how the dragon-lords have captured and saddled his kind. At first he would be very hesitant of you, shying away and flying off whenever he was given the chance, but no matter how often he hid from you, he was never too far. You'll swear you can see him on the corner of your eye whenever your sights are set to the sky. You'll hear the beat of his wings as he'd silently cruise in the sky over your head, watching you. Observing you.

. Bonding with this wild dragon would take patience and delicacy, but once you were granted his precious trust? Oh he would be all over you.

. His leathery pale wings are worn from constant flight, so he would love whatever pampering you'd give him. Soothing Salves upon the aching muscles of his wings, cleaning his silvery scales around his face, or simply allowing him to sleep with his head nestled close to you or in your lap, he'd be a happy dragon. Humans have always been off limits to him, so he's exploring this side of humanity. The goodness. The kindness. The pack bonding that they seem to hold for anything and everything. You're his experience.

. He loves flying with you. He'd not even mind the saddle, almost eagerly letting you fasten the dragon-saddle upon him as he impatiently awaits for you to clamber on so he can show you how high he can soar. Be warned however- he's going to test you. See how high or fast you can tolerate his dance in the air, how much courage his little human has, and how worthy they are of riding him.

Be mindful to hold on tight to the reigns, you're going to need it.

. He'll take you over deep oceans, vast forests and treacherous mountains. He'll take you to the stars and the moon, fly you as close to the heavens that you can possibly reach your whilst within in your mortal body. He especially loves flying through billowing storm clouds and rainclouds. The rush of wind under his wings, the fresh cool rain on his scales, and the claps of thunder that makes his heart skip a beat. You may return from your flights a little drenched and shivering, but it'd be so worth it.

. He would probably not tolerate the dragon pits. He hates the confinement, and the thought of being cramped in there with other bulky dragons. All growling and huffing and bellowing fire, stepping on tails and talons. He's a solitary creature. Grey ghost likes the company of himself and you.

. Instead he would find a perch nearby. A cave perhaps, or a nice spot near the shoreline. He likes the bubbling seafoam and the glittering silver fish in the water.

. He loves seeing you every morning. When you leave the castle grounds, there you will find him. perched upon a cliffy hillside, or perhaps near the tide pools- his dark silver scales shimmering with seaspray. Your greetings are often reciprocated with a huff or a bellow of smoke, before he nestles his neck and wing down for you to climb upon his back.

. If you are bonded with him, it is possible you share a common interest. Perhaps you harbour some introverted tendencies, or maybe you are a little shy and anxious. You could also just want to go against the grain and do things at your own pace and style, whatever the case, you will both see a part of yourselves in one another. He gets it- he understands. Loud noises, gossip, prodding words and eyes- they're all too much. He'll take you to the tranquility of the clouds and stars, and he'll be your greatest strength and protection- just like you are his greatest peace and joy.

[missrosiesworld]

Can I request headcanons for Von Lycaon with shy gn s/o please?

Of course 😊 My apologies, I have been busy at work these past couple of weeks. Here it is!

Headcanons for Lycaon with a Shy Significant Other:

Gentle Encouragement: Lycaon would be mindful of his partner's shyness, gently encouraging them to step out of their comfort zone while always being supportive.

During the gathering, Lycaon noticed his partner standing off to the side, their posture slightly tense and their eyes scanning the room with a hint of anxiety. He could see them overwhelmed, so he made his way over with a warm, reassuring smile. Gently taking their hand, he leaned in close, his voice soft and inviting. "Would you like to join me?" he asked, his tone filled with understanding, ensuring they knew there was no pressure. His partner hesitated momentarily, flickering between him and the crowd. Sensing their uncertainty, Lycaon gently squeezed their hand, his thumb lightly stroking the back of their hand. "We can find a quieter spot," he added, his visible eye full of encouragement and warmth. When they nodded, still hesitant, he guided them with care, leading them away from the bustling crowd and toward a more secluded corner where they could feel more at ease. Once they reached the quieter area, Lycaon turned to them, his expression tender. "Is this better?" he asked, his voice still low and comforting. When they nodded, a small, relieved smile crossing their face, Lycaon couldn’t help but smile back. "I’m glad," he said softly, his hand still holding theirs, providing a steady source of comfort and reassurance. "I’m here with you, always."

Protective and Reassuring: Lycaon would naturally take on a protective role, ensuring his partner feels safe and supported in social situations.

As they walked through the crowded marketplace, Lycaon instinctively positioned himself between his partner and the throng of people, his tall frame acting as a subtle barrier. He noticed their shoulders tense and the slight discomfort in their expression. Without a word, he gently placed a steady hand on the small of their back, his touch firm but comforting. "I’m right here," he murmured softly, leaning close enough for them to hear above the noise. His voice was low and reassuring, grounding them amidst the chaos. His partner glanced up at him, visibly more at ease with his presence. Lycaon offered a warm, protective smile, keeping his hand at their back as they continued walking through the crowd. "You don’t have to worry," he added quietly, his tone gentle. "I’ve got you." His protective nature radiated through his calm demeanor, ensuring they felt safe and supported as they navigated the bustling marketplace.

Understanding Silence: He would understand that sometimes his partner might not want to speak, and he would be comfortable sharing quiet moments with them, providing comfort through his presence alone.

One evening, as they sat together, Lycaon noticed his partner was quieter than usual, their expression thoughtful yet withdrawn. Instead of asking, he simply reached over, gently entwining his fingers with theirs. The silence between them was peaceful, filled with mutual understanding. Lycaon’s thumb traced soothing circles on the back of their hand, his touch warm and reassuring. Without a word, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to their temple, lingering just long enough to let them know he was there, his presence a silent source of comfort and love.

Thoughtful Gestures: Lycaon would be attentive to the small things that bring his partner comfort, often surprising them with thoughtful gestures that speak volumes.

As Lycaon knew his partner preferred quieter, more intimate settings, he planned everything perfectly. As his partner arrived, they found a cozy blanket already spread out under the stars, surrounded by the soft flicker of candlelight casting a warm glow. Lycaon smiled softly as they approached, his gaze reflecting the same warmth as the candles. "I thought you might enjoy some peace and quiet," he said, his voice gentle as he gestured for them to sit beside him. Taking their hand, he added with a tender squeeze, "I wanted this to be special, just for us." His partner settled in beside him, a soft smile playing on their lips. "You always know exactly what I need," they whispered, their voice filled with affection. Lycaon leaned in closer, brushing a soft kiss against their forehead. "Because I pay attention to what makes you happy," he murmured, his hand still holding theirs as they both basked in the peaceful moment under the stars.

Patience and Gentle Communication: He would be patient with his partner’s shyness, always taking the time to communicate in a way that makes them feel comfortable and valued.

When his partner hesitated, struggling to find the right words, Lycaon leaned in, his presence calm and reassuring. "Take your time," he whispered softly, his visible eye brimming with patience and warmth. "I’m here to listen whenever you’re ready." He reached out and gently took their hand, his touch comforting. "There’s no rush," he added, his voice a soothing anchor. His gentle approach, full of understanding, made them feel valued and safe, knowing Lycaon would always give them the space they needed to open up at their own pace.

Encouraging Independence: While protective, Lycaon would also encourage his partner to be independent, helping them build confidence in their own abilities.

Lycaon stood close by his partner’s side, noticing their nervousness as they prepared to address the small group. He leaned in just enough for his voice to reach them, his tone calm and reassuring. "You’ve got this," he whispered, his visible eye filled with quiet confidence. His hand brushed lightly against their arm in a subtle, supportive gesture. As his partner stepped forward, Lycaon took a small step back, giving them space while staying close enough to provide comfort. His presence remained steady, silently reminding them that he was there if needed. When they glanced back nervously, he offered a warm nod, his gaze full of encouragement. "I’m right here," he mouthed, a small smile on his lips, ready to catch them if they faltered but proud to let them take the lead.

[writing-in-glitter-pen]

Genshin Men and Love Languages ♡

Our boys are just head over heels for their darling! They can’t help themselves but express their love for you any chance they get—feeling satisfied and comforted by showering you with all the affection they have. But in what language do they show this affection?

Diluc, Kaeya, Ayato, Thoma x gn!reader II comfort, fluff

Content warnings: stress-habits like eyebrow plucking and nail biting (Diluc), insecurity/shame (Kaeya), play-hitting (Thoma), Thoma calling you pumpkin (Thoma).

Diluc thinks his love language is gift-giving (because he has a budget the size of a whale to spend on spoiling his lover), but it’s actually physical touch! Being the withdrawn and guarded man he is, he’s not used to physical contact with anyone, so he was never able to discover this integral part of himself until you wandered into his heart. When he first fell in love with you, despite his natural reservations, he’d find himself subconsciously reaching out to you. When he’d pour your wine as you sat at his bar counter, he’d lightly brush his pinkie against yours as you held your glass out to him. Even a gentle brush like this was enough to send his mind spinning and heart thundering out of his chest! Once you two began officially dating, he found himself losing all control when it came to touching you. No matter where you two were, he always had to have a hand on you. On the small of your back, holding your delicate hand in his, even a large palm around the back of your neck—his thumb rubbing circles on the base of your scalp. He had to admit, the last one was his favorite. He could never be comfortable with PDA, so that was about the extent of his touches in public. But in private? He’s insatiable. He often, bashfully, asks you to sit on his lap while he works; your arms around his shoulders and head resting in the crook of his neck. He finds your embrace limits the stress he feels when weathering his paperwork. It makes the workload fly by, with him being able to press gentle kisses to your forehead or rub your back comfortingly instead of engaging in harmful stress-habits like plucking at his eyebrows or biting his nails. He also didn’t expect to love kissing you as much as he did. Before you, he always believed kissing to be a flavorless exchange. He didn’t understand exactly why people did it. Until the first time you leaned up and brushed your soft lips against his. You turned his world upside down. Now, any time he got you by yourself, he’d pull you in for a rough kiss—like he’d been holding his breath until he could get his lips on yours again. And at home? It doesn’t matter if you’re getting dressed, reading, bathing, eating, he finds somewhere to put his lips. He likes kissing from your knuckles all the way up to your shoulder and back down again—this way you have another arm free to continue with your prior task. On paper, this is very considerate of him. But in practice? How does he expect you to focus when he’s basically devouring you!!! He most needs your touch after he comes home from a night of protecting Mondstadt. He finds you asleep in bed, and after a much-needed shower, he’d join you—pulling you onto his chest so that your weight would press down on him. He found this position to be the perfect relief—equal parts grounding and loving. Much to his surprise, after you entered his life, he found he felt safest when you were in his embrace.

Kaeya’s love language is words of affirmation! His silver tongue uniquely equips him with the ability to utter the exact words you need to hear for comfort in any given moment. You’ll never lose confidence around him, for he never fails to be your sweet cheerleader. Your ears are his favorite workstation, with labor he is (for once) eager and proud to shoulder. He gently brushes his lips against them as he whispers into them, kissing the space behind them after each reassurance and praise he utters. What’s so sweet about your dynamic as a couple is, your words of affirmation flow both ways. Despite the confident airs he typically puts on for others, Kaeya is actually quite insecure. He feels like he constantly needs to perform for other’s approval—that if he were to be his authentic self, he would lose the favor of others, that he would be rejected or ostracized. It is extremely healing for him when you praise him for the qualities he typically hides from the public—the parts of himself he feels others wouldn’t accept. When you kiss the eye that’s typically hidden behind his eyepatch, telling him you find it beautiful, that he wouldn’t be your Kaeya without it, it brings light to his soul. When you catch him with his morning bed head, his eyes puffy and morning shadow along his jaw, and you wrap your arms around him—telling him how much you love him and think he looks adorable all comfortable and sleepy, he wants to stay in bed with you forever. He feels safe under your gaze, while he feels pressure to look a certain way under the gaze of others. You assure him that you’ll love him in any form he takes, so your home is a breath of fresh air where he is free to be himself. Most of all, your words affirming how much you love him for who he is are the most precious to him. When you tell him that he doesn’t need to feel ashamed of where he came from, that you love him past, present and future, that the person he is his choice and you love him for it, he feels seen. He feels seen and he feels safe. You know. You know everything. And you love him not despite it, but for it. He had never expected such a person would ever enter his life, and now that you have, his once cold world has become so much warmer.

It’s ironic that Ayato’s love language is quality time, since his position as the Yashiro Commissioner leaves him with very little time for anything other than work. 48 hour work days are normal for him—with about 15 minutes of sleep separating them. However, his lack of time is what makes his appreciation for quality time so much deeper. Of course, he makes sure you are well taken care of with gifts and services he has ordered for you, but you find his most intense love in the free five minutes in his schedule he dedicates solely to you. He tries not to go too long without seeing you, work sometimes getting in the way of that, but whenever you visit him, even when it’s in the middle of a brutal work day, his attention is all yours. You stop in at his office whenever you miss him and his quill hits the desk before you even cross the threshold of the door. Sometimes you need a hug and a kiss, sometimes you ask him for something you require, but most of the time, you simply sit on his desk for a few minutes—just wanting to talk about your day as he comfortingly rests his hand on your thigh, drawing circles on it with his thumb. These moments of reprieve you give him in the midst of an ocean of responsibility are priceless to him; he doesn’t know where he would be without you there to recharge him with your presence. Any chance he gets to have you with him, he jumps at, showing you that, despite his other duties, you will always come first—for you are the most fulfilling responsibility he is honored to shoulder.

Thoma’s love language is acts of service. His job as a housekeeper means he spends all day taking care of people, and he does so because he really does love them! Not only does Thoma have the biggest heart that holds a tenderness for everyone, but the duo are his closest companions. So if he already takes such amazing care of his friends or even strangers, imagine how well he’s going to take care of you! Every day when he returns home, you have to physically restrain him from doing everything under the sun to please you. He doesn’t even let you get up from the couch to greet him. “Hold it!!” he yells, rushing over to where you sit instead and sliding his hands around your waist to gift you a soft kiss. When you whine and squirm in his grip, miffed that he fooled you into letting him do all the work for his welcome home, he pinches your blushing cheeks and lets out that boyish laugh that never fails to melt your heart. How can you stay mad at your adorable lover? He was just too good at escaping punishment. His services don’t end there. After you two moved in together, he quickly discovered that you wouldn’t just take his tending to you lying down, and that he had to tell little white lies to escape your detection. He’ll tell you he’s just going to wash his face after work, but really he’ll run you a warm bath. It’s only after the tub is full and you’ve been lured into the bathroom that you discover you’ve been conned. You’ll huff and tell him that he can just take the bath he ran himself! Only for him to counter that he already took a bath at the Kamisato Estate before he came home. Point Thoma. After he gets you into the bath, he has at least half an hour to make dinner for you before you get wise. When you exit the bathroom in the fluffy robe he fetched for you, seeing the feast he threw together in so little time, you immediately grab and lightly hit his arm in punishment. “Thoma!!! I could’ve helped!!!”. “But I wanted to do it for you, pumpkin!”. No matter how much you scorn him for pampering you, your anger only draws a laugh from him. If you get really upset at him, shaking a finger at him and telling him off, his laughter will grow tenfold; his signature crooked grin adorns his face as he grabs a hold of the hands you use as weapons and nuzzle his nose to yours. You’re no match for him, so all you can do is sigh and accept how he spoils you!

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 17

Welcome to the beginning of the end, for the next four weeks I will be putting out the last chapters of this story. It's done. And I am sorry to see it go. I really loved writing this story even if it kept changing on me and evolving into what it is today.

In this chapter we have Jason being sneaky, Wayne and a new werewolf in town.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

~

Eddie and Steve were having a quiet walk about town, holding hands and talking softly to each other sweet things.

Or that’s how it looked on the outside.

They were actually on the hunt. Wayne had been teaching Eddie how to hunt like vampire the last two years, and Steve was learning how to hunt as a werewolf and not just as a man in a wolf suit from Nancy.

What were they hunting? The manticore. Steve’s stronger sense of smell would help them track the beast down, while Eddie’s extensive knowledge of its habits and haunts would narrow down where to look.

People often assumed that Eddie was bad at facts and dates but he wasn’t. He was actually pretty good at them, his problem in school was not doing the homework. He would ace every test, he’d just forget to turn in his assignments.

Hell, his first senior year got one of the Hellfire Club members mad at him because he scored in the top ten percent of the nation on a portion of the SAT. She was averaging an A- average in the class they shared together and thought that that meant she should have gotten in the top ten percent of nation instead of him. To say that things soured between them after that was an understatement.

All this to say that Eddie was smart. Smarter than people gave him credit for and not just how he figured out the meaning behind Patrick’s attack. He knew people. Differently then the way Steve knew people, but still he was clever and quick witted.

Eddie stopped in his tracks and jutted his chin across the street. “Isn’t that Jason Carver?”

Steve looked where he was indicating and frowned. “I thought your uncle said he was sick. What’s he doing in town?”

“Uncle Wayne’s been saying that Jason is becoming more and more withdrawn since Patrick was attacked,” Eddie explained. “He thinks he might have recommend Jason be brought to the full extent of the law, which is something Uncle Wayne really isn’t looking forward to.”

“But we’re trying to find Patrick’s attacker!” Steve protested. “I thought he would be happier that we’re trying to get justice for his friend.”

Eddie frowned, the crease between his eyebrows deepened. “I think his hatred of werewolves and vampires goes deeper than his sense of justice for his friend.”

Steve shook his head. That just couldn’t be true. He knew Jason from basketball. You wouldn’t be able to find a boy more loyal to his friends than Jason Carver. But he raised his head and looked Eddie in the eye and knew. Jason had only showed him his good qualities because they were equals.

Eddie had seen the worst of the other boy. The sneering viciousness beneath the veneer of civility that he showed to those he thought lesser than him.

“We need to find the manticore before he breaks his masters bonds,” Steve whispered. “I’m more concerned what an unbound creature like that could do to this town, over someone like Jason.”

Eddie watched Jason for a moment more. The other teen did not seem to be up to anything nefarious, other than lying to Uncle Wayne, so he nodded.

But the hairs on the back of his neck prickled and the hairs on his arm stood up on end. There was a predator here. He looked around him.

“Babe?” Steve asked, reaching out to touch his elbow. “What wrong?”

“What do you smell just now?” he asked, searching the shadows.

Steve stilled. He scented the air. The wind was changing, but there!

“It’s a sharp metal tang in the air,” he murmured. “Like the scent of dried blood. It’s acrid.” He wrinkled his nose. “Foul.”

Eddie nodded. “That’s what I scented too, but now it’s gone. Whatever it was, though. It was not the manticore.”

Steve shook off a shiver that slid down his spine. “It was werewolf. But not one in my pack.”

“Banished you think?” Eddie asked as the wind shifted to carry the scent away from them. He could still feel the uneasy feeling down the pads of his feet. Whoever was out there was dangerous.

Steve tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing else we can do today. The rogue werewolf would have sent the manticore aground.”

Eddie nodded, the cat sìth was probably hiding the manticore’s scent anyway. “We need to talk to Wayne.”

~

Wayne listened intently to their report, soaking in everything they told him. He sat back and thought through it all.

“I think I know who the Banished you smelled in town is,” he said quietly. He handed Eddie the file he’d gotten from Sam and waited.

“Dr. Alexei Oborin,” Eddie read aloud. “That’s Nancy’s werewolf, right? The one she was sure caused a stir when she was little.”

Steve frowned. “She hasn’t told me anything about that.”

Wayne nodded like he wasn’t surprised. “She was waiting to see what that file contained. But I’m leaving it up to you if you want to share it with her. It’s has some pretty gruesome stuff.”

Steve nodded absently as he read over Eddie’s shoulder, the other man waiting until he was done before turning to the next page. No matter how much longer it took Steve than Eddie.

“The name of his bondmate is blacked out,” he said with that little frown of his that made Eddie want to bite him between the eyebrows for being too cute. “Do we know why?”

Wayne shook his head. “I’ve already pressed my source pretty hard to get the file. He could get fired if he doesn’t return it in a week.”

Eddie and Steve shared a glance, but wisely said nothing.

“They were teenagers who were camping out in the woods near the pack compound,” Steve read. He frowned. “That’s strange.”

Eddie and Wayne’s heads snapped his direction.

“Look at the location of the two girls bodies...” he pulled out the photo in file and turned it to face Wayne.

Wayne looked at the picture and then back up at him. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be looking at, if I’m honest here, Steve.”

“It’s something I learned recently from Nancy,” he replied. “I don’t fight like a wolf in wolf form. I don’t go for the jugular for example because I know as human how easy it is for a human to throw up their arms to protect that area of the body. I knock them over first and press my weight on their chest to make it harder for them to do just that.”

Eddie frowned, but Wayne looked back down at the photo.

“Shit!”

The arms and upper torso were torn to shreds, the way you would expect from a wolf attack, but the bodies themselves were arranged to make it look it was the work of a crazed werewolf. Like something straight out of a horror movie.

“Someone moved the bodies?” Eddie reasoned. “But why would Alexei do that if he thought the kids were hunters? There would be no reason to. It was supposedly self-defense.”

“Unless it wasn’t,” Wayne said, continuing his nephew’s thought. “What if the bondmate came and rearranged the bodies to plead insanity on Alexei’s behalf?”

Steve nodded. “And then when that didn’t work, they claimed that the kids were hunters.”

Wayne rubbed at the stubble on his chin wishing, not for the first time, that he had been changed with a clean shaven face.

“That make sense.”

Eddie closed the file and looked on the front of the folder. “VHS? Video Home System?” He tilted his head to the side.

Wayne snorted, then giggled. Suddenly the stoic vampire was laughing so hard, tears of blood rolled down his cheeks. He took out a handkerchief and wiped away the tears.

“No, no,” he said around his feral grin. “It stands for The Van Helsing Society. But, dear god, I am going to use that on that bastard the next time I saw him.”

“As in Abraham Van Helsing?” Eddie asked, his eyes wide. “From Dracula?” He scooted forward to the edge of his seat.

Wayne nodded, still grinning. “The first name was changed but Van Helsing was a real person. Karl Van Helsing was the first to come up with the first policing body for supernatural beings. After the incident in London, it was pretty clear that people were going to start noticing that supernatural beings existed and he came up with The Van Helsing Society.”

“Pretty arrogant of him to name it after himself,” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes.

Eddie scoffed, throwing himself back against the sofa cushions. “Says the alpha of the Harrington pack.” Then he shook his head and muttered. “It had to be fucking cops.”

Steve just shrugged. “I never said that was also arrogant. I never understood why it wasn’t called the Hawkins Pack or Roane Pack considering being alpha isn’t hereditary.”

Wayne smiled at Steve. He had always liked him since he was a young boy learning that his parents had died. But he was really starting to like the man that boy had become, too. Because it was ridiculous that the pack hadn’t been named after the town or county it resided in.

“They are far more than just cops, Ed,” he warned. “They are a powerful group with abilities all their own. Crossing one of the Society isn’t the same as crossing a mortal or even supernatural cop, like Hopper. They are protected against possession, hypnotism, and even enthrallment.”

“Are they all descendants of the original dude?” Steve asked, pressing even closer to Eddie on the sofa. He didn’t like the sound of these supernatural cops either. Because where were they when he was being abused by the Franklins. He couldn’t even remember the night he first changed. He only remembered when he came to and he and Wayne were burying their bodies. He was just so grateful that the abuse was over that he really didn’t think of why.

But Wayne was shaking his head. “According to the records the last Van Helsing died during the oiliphéist riots of 1922 in Ireland.”

“That’s too bad,” Eddie said, cocking his head to the side. “As anti-vampire as the name has become a symbol of these days, I would still have liked to have met one of his descendants.”

Wayne chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve had the pleasure only once. Greta Van Helsing in 1871. She was a spitfire to say the least.”

Eddie ran his hands over his face. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck her...” he moaned.

“Not on your life,” Wayne huffed. “Even if she was immune to the whole agents and supes producing unhinged offspring, she was a lesbian and won’t have even spared me a glance.”

“Unhinged as in cool super powers, unhinged?” Eddie asked, lowering his hands from his face. “Or mental asylum unhinged?”

“Sadly the latter,” Wayne said mournfully. “The magic that they use to protect themselves from being controlled does nasty things to the natural magics supernatural beings are made of.”

“But Van Helsings were immune?” Steve asked, still pressed to Eddie’s side.

Wayne nodded. “Probably because like most things in nature needing a balance, the Van Helsings were naturally the balance to the supernatural creatures of the world. There are probably other families just like them, but Van Helsings are merely the most notable.”

“Makes sense,” Eddie said, taking Steve’s hand and giving it a squeeze. He could tell this talk of the Van Helsings was making him upset.

“In other news,” he said, “The Hughes, the Hollands, the Martins, and the Camerons are all willing to send in guards for Steve.”

“I wasn’t aware the Camerons were supernatural,” Wayne said rubbing his chin. “What are they?”

“Louie Cameron is a selkie, and Debra Cameron is a siren,” he explained. “Making their daughter Vickie one hell of a strong supe.”

Steve sat there with this confused pout on his face. “Guards? Why would I need guards?”

“I don’t trust the Pack right now,” Wayne replied. “There is more going on in that pack then meets the eye and I can’t be everywhere. Especially with Jason causing trouble in town. Patrick tried to warn me early on that Jason would try something like this, but I wanted to believe that there was good in their somewhere.”

Steve’s expression shuttered to a blank mask. “What do I do?”

“Just start hanging out with me and the others outside of the compound,” Eddie said, squeezing Steve’s hand again and covering it with his other hand.

“Okay,” he breathed. They were right, as much as Nancy wanted him to further integrate into the Pack, he needed to be on the outside to see what was going on and understand it.

And he knew the best way to do it, but it was going to take a lot of convincing. But he was up for the job.

~

Notes:

oilipheists are sea monsters from Ireland.

Cameron is the last name I gave Vickie from season four.

And the SAT (a test to determine how well you've learned your lessons over the course of the year not the college one) thing happened to me. I was doing poorly in English because of the stupid correcting sentences for grammar and punctuation bullshit (there is a very good reason I use betas) but when the results came back I got top ten in the NATION for reading comprehension. My friend in the class who getting A's in that class was so mad it wasn't her that she legit stopped talking to me because she was that sure I cheated.

Tag List: FOURTEEN SLOTS REMAINING

Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @fullpoetrybread @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookworm0690 @littlewildflowerkitten @just-a-tiny-void @potato-of-the-lord @thelittleclare

5- @goosesister @tinyplanet95 @she-collects-smut @irregular-child @y4r3luv

6- @fairytalesreality @anaibis @papergrenade @ravenfrog @blondie1006 @dreamercec

7- @thedragonsaunt @sadisticaltarts @kultiras @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman

8- @kal-ology

[fall0utmind]

(un)lucky 13 - medical leak au

Hi guys, new chapter is here !!!!

ao3 here

some imagination is needed here - gotta pretend Aragon and Misano are swapped in the calendar. Also, the Mig podcast came out in like June!!

Thanks for all your support guys xx

Meanwhile, in Madrid, Alex is on the verge of tearing his hair out. He can take so much of his brother’s sulking when the solution is so obvious. It’s driving him insane. It would be much easier if Valentino and Marc could figure out the art of communication. Alex has always looked up to his brother but he is seriously lacking in the love department. Or maybe he’s just an idiot around Valentino – the jury is still out on that one.

Marc had flown home on Monday in a foul mood which hasn’t improved over the past few days. Much to Alex’s chagrin, he has been quiet all week- sullen, trapped inside his head, and moping around the house. To be fair to his brother, Alex does somewhat understand. Occasionally, he forgets that Marc had been through more hell than just Valentino and their fucked-up relationship this weekend. Alex was there in the aftermath of their ruin and it was categorically the worst part of his life. This week, they have both been studiously avoiding the news, determined to ignore how it has all been uprooted.

Their parents rang yesterday, questioning in panicked voices if everything was okay, and threatening to come over with home-cooked meals. Alex is surprised that they lasted so long, he thought his mum would be threatening murder almost immediately. Of course, they had texted across the weekend, offering words of support but not interfering; it appears that even they have now reached their breaking point. Alex spent the best part of an hour trying to explain everything to them, pointedly ignoring all of the bits about Valentino’s interactions (he doesn’t want his mum to actually end up in jail). In the end, they agreed that a week alone to decompress would be good for Marc (they pointedly didn’t tell him this - he wouldn’t like it).

At the end of the day, Alex can tell that Marc is still somewhat worried about the potential fallout of this weekend. He has been trying to put on a brave face, pretending it doesn’t bother him, but Alex knows better. On Tuesday, Marc spends all day in meetings with his management team and sponsors, trying to decipher the next steps. He looks much more relaxed when he emerges from their office later that evening. According to Marc, the sponsors were shocked but reacted optimistically, meaning that they weren’t considering dropping him. Instead, they released a handful of supportive messages online, so now any respectable media channel will have to put a more positive spin on Marc’s history or face backlash.

Despite this good news, Marc is still withdrawn over dinner, pushing his food around his plate and deep in thought. It confirms to Alex that this isn’t a ‘the whole world knows’ freak out and definitely has to do with Valentino. He has a sneaking suspicion that there is something Marc isn’t telling him, something happened on Sunday or Monday which has spun his brother into a tizzy. But no matter how hard he tries to get it out of Marc, he remains tight-lipped, refusing to admit anything is wrong. He mumbles an excuse about being stressed for an interview and hastily retreats to his bedroom.

The following morning, Marc wanders into the kitchen with a crease in his brow. Alex is already sitting at the bar, a mug and a half-empty plate in front of him. There are still eggs in the pan and bread in the toaster. Marc pours himself an espresso and makes his breakfast, thanking Alex for his courtesy.

“All the journalists involved have lost their jobs” Marc mutters, unprompted in the silence.

Alex raises a curious eyebrow, “That’s great! Why do you look so upset?” he enquires

“People online are saying it was Vale, apparently he’s been threatening everyone who had anything to do with it,” Marc grumbles.

Alex politely chooses not to berate his brother for looking online again, they both agreed not to do that until it calmed down. Instead, he focuses on the remark and has to stifle a laugh. Marc frowns at him.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just very Valentino, isn’t it?” Alex giggles.

Marc quirks an eyebrow, scowling at his brother’s clear amusement.

“Well, you know, not actually talking to you, just going and firing everyone, ruining their lives. It really is going big or going home while ignoring the actual issue for him.” Alex explains, chuckling at Marc’s confusion.

Obviously Marc hasn’t worked out how fond Vale is of him yet. It is clear to Alex that Marc does not trust the older man, and he isn’t surprised in the slightest. Valentino had all but destroyed Marc’s life and revelled in it. It must be incredibly confusing to face the truth that the man you love has done his all to ruin you for a decade, only to change his mind out of the blue. . Alex kind of hates him for it, but he’s willing to compromise for Marc. In his defence, Valentino is now trying desperately hard to get Marc back (albeit in an odd way), but it doesn’t change the fact that Alex will be dishing out the shovel talk the second he gets the chance; there is no way he’s letting Vale hurt his brother again.

Valentino has got to be the craziest man Alex has ever met; he supposes that is why they work so well as a couple – him and Marc. The whole dramatic song and dance they are doing rather than just talking- it is very them. He just hopes they work it out soon.

But by Friday Alex has enough, 5 days of being sad is entirely too long. They have another race weekend soon and he doesn’t want Marc to still be like this – sad and withdrawn. It is not conducive to healing, let alone riding. Since their workout this morning, Marc has locked himself in his bedroom, and Alex knows he won’t come out until he goes for a run later, at 4 pm like clockwork. Alex is seriously considering just calling Valentino to sort his shit out, so when he gets a text from Franky, he almost cries in relief.

................

How are you doing? How’s Marc?

Marc hasn’t left his room in 3 hours – I’m beginning to worry.

He sounds like Vale; he can’t decide what he wants to do – it’s driving Luca insane.

Never met two more incapable adults.

Lol.

I don’t think I will ever understand. He was not very good when Pecco came. The house was a mess and all. He’s a bit better now but is fretting a lot (about everyone). It would be sweet but cazzo it’s so annoying.

I can’t imagine that. Don’t remember a time when Vale didn’t hate us.

Yh sorry about that. I'm not sure any of us have been too kind.

It's fine, past is the past. Not too chuffed with Rossi though.

I think I have a plan, actually about Marc and Valentino.

They spend the rest of the day plotting.

*

Marc is moping, he doesn’t like to admit it, but he is definitely moping. He has spent the week alternating between being in bed, crying, and training until he is sweating and his muscles protest. He knows that Alex thinks there’s an easy solution to this – either talk to Vale and somehow sort out a decade of resentment and pain, or forget about him, screw someone else and move on. Regrettably for Marc, it isn’t that simple.  He’s scared of letting Valentino in, but he wants so badly. He wants a relationship, not just a couple of nights but the softness and romance he knows would make him happy. Unfortunately, life is not a fairy tale, and Marc isn’t sure he will ever get his happy ending.

During the worst moments, he spends hours on end stuck alone with his thoughts. He should never have kissed Valentino on Monday – he doesn’t know what he was thinking. He had thought he read something in Vale’s face, a desire for him.

But then he woke up to reality.

Valentino and him were something different, almost alien in the way they fluttered between friends, lovers, and enemies. When he was younger and naive, he thought Valentino was the one for him. But then everything had come crashing down in quite a spectacular fashion. This weekend, for the first time in a decade, they had spoken words that weren’t venomous disputes, cruelty on podcasts or carefully painted indifference.

For a split second, it was heaven, their lips meeting felt like the most painful redemption. Marc had fallen into it head first, as he always does with Valentino; it was only when they had separated to gasp for air that Marc came to his senses. Vale wanted more, he always wanted more, and Marc so desperately wanted to let himself be pulled in, but it all crumbled around him; the realisation that they wanted different things punching him in the gut. Marc wanted, no, wants, love - not just a quick fuck. Although Vale claims to love him, Marc isn’t so sure. There is no trust in their relationship because what was once there is in shattered pieces on the ground, smashed during their decade-long feud. He isn’t sure they will ever manage to gather them all and rearrange them into a semblance of a soft, functioning, loving relationship.

Maybe they were never meant to have it, destined to be rivals and only have the distant echoes of love. Every time he reaches out for the whisps of tenderness they slip through his fingers.

Marc can’t do it again - put himself into the firing line and let Valentino shoot. In the motorhome, he tried to be the adult, to claw himself away, set some distance so they could communicate, but like always they imploded. It turned into another vicious argument and it had all gone terribly wrong. The first spark had lit the fuse many years ago and set the ticking in motion.

The countdown rules Marc’s life.

In the aftermath, Marc took one look at the devastation that was their relationship, aching with the harsh reality of their admissions, and he fled like a coward. He abandoned their sinking ship once more, unwilling to drown for the man who had already done this once before. Fate was a cruel thing, pulling them together, only for every interaction to be a direct collision – inescapable and destructive, like two cars meeting head-on. A tiny part of him wishes that he had never met Vale, he hates it. There is a deep ache within him, a cavernous hollow which cannot be filled. No matter how many people he fucks, how much he begs, how much he tries to plug it with something, anything. There is a Valentino-sized hole in his heart, his bones, his soul.

It is incurable. It is inevitable, terminal.

When Marc isn’t stewing over the way it went with Valentino – he throws himself into work. He asks Carlos for extra workouts and ignores the frowns he receives from both him and Alex. He swims, cycles, runs, and lifts weights until he can barely move after, and then he does it all again the next day. He calls his team, spending hours locked in the office in meeting after meeting with sponsors and managers. Marc is desperately trying to find out if he can turn the weekend into a positive. He’s suddenly realised that he doesn’t want to hide from this anymore nor pretend it never happened. He refuses to brush it under the rug. Although Marc hates vulnerability, feeling like people are stripping him bare and reading his darkest thoughts, it is easier, somehow, to address the past when it is so far away. He knows he is only human (sometimes he wishes he was not). People knowing his past is less of a concern, he is no longer that vulnerable, and they cannot use it against him. It makes it bearable.

As it turns out, there is little to do when your life has been turned upside down and you are trying to avoid the world. Marc spends a lot of time re-watching old races or training, determined to do well this weekend. To prove that this hasn’t beaten him down. He pointedly avoids Alex, knowing what his brother thinks. Although he had been trying to avoid social media, Marc sees the news online- it is inevitable really. Valentino has been spinning his web again, pulling strings taut until he gets what he wants. It appears that currently, that is revenge. According to the internet, everyone hinted to be involved with the whole scandal has been suddenly fired and struck off, and Valentino isn’t being subtle that it is his hand striking the blows. Marc feels inexplicably angry about it. How dare Vale suddenly pretend to care now when he was nowhere back then? There is also the simmering of embarrassment underlying the anger. Marc does not need some knight in shining armour – he is fine on his own. A childish voice tells him to call every agency and have their jobs reinstated. He doesn’t. It will not diminish his irritation that Valentino thinks he cannot handle this. As it turns out, Alex does not share his rage. Marc does not understand his brother’s rambling explanation and settles to be confused. He ignores the amused smirk Alex is wearing, lest he does something stupid like kick him.

To give his brother some credit, it was Alex’s idea to turn his mental health experience into an educational tool, reminding people that they are not alone. Make what could be a huge weakness into a strength. Throwing people off immediately makes it impossible for them to stab him in the back. When he brings it up to his manager, it is met with unrivalled positivity and before he knows it, they are in contact with mental health charities and vocal experts. An interview is set up with a journalist he likes, someone trustworthy. It's booked last minute so it can air right before Aragon. It is hoped that being outspoken about mental health will not only smooth over any concerns but also gain him some support. It has the added bonus that anyone who feels like being an asshole will gain sufficient backlash. Marc feels honoured to be involved with something so significant but would be lying if he said that he wasn’t terrified about it. Nevertheless, if there’s one thing he’s learnt in life, it’s that the scariest things come with the biggest rewards. The most nail-biting corners, when he can feel the bike start to slip, are the ones where he claws back a win. The biggest leaps of faith can become the most successful.

A day before he’s due to head into Madrid for the interview, whilst he’s knee-deep in packing (trying to decide which outfit would be best), his phone bleeps. His notifications have been blowing up since last weekend, mainly from the number of posts he has been tagged in on social media. He has deleted a bunch of apps and turned off alerts on all the others, determined not to sink into narratives other people are writing about him. Apart from that, friends and family have been checking in across the week. He is slightly embarrassed to admit that half of them go unanswered, only his immediate family and the people at Misano got a response.

He half-heartedly checks his phone, assuming it’s his mum offering to come again, or maybe a friend. Marc isn’t expecting it to be Pecco; he drops his phone in shock. His life has become categorically odd in the past few weeks, especially after this weekend. The academy boys are talking to him now – not that he ever had many issues with Luca or Franky. But Bez and Pecco have always been wary of Marc, particularly since Pecco had been there when it all fell to pieces the first time. Since Ducati had expressed interest, the younger man had been more pleasant and had somehow managed to secure his number from someone; he still doesn’t know who (there are not too many people in the paddock with his number). When the news was released over the summer break, Pecco was one of the first to congratulate him.

His phone beeps again.

Hi Marc, hope you’re ok. You might find this interesting.

The second message contains a link to something on YouTube. He spares a quick thought for just how strange this is before curiosity gets the better of him and he clicks the link.

A YouTube video loads. At first, Marc is confused, then shock paralyses him and he is unable to prevent the video from playing. Eventually, ten seconds in, he pauses it and settles in disbelief. He can’t believe Pecco would do this, send him that God-awful video again, the one with Mig where Vale is just sending punch after punch in Marc’s direction. He flicks his eyes to the stats, surprised that there are so few views, he thought the video had been popular.

He double-checks the link, definitely to the correct video. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the upload date. Today. But that’s not right, this came out a while ago. He notices then, he thinks they were wearing something different from the clips he had seen last time. It hits him in a rush, sucking the air out of his lungs. It looks like he’s not the only one who’s been busy. Valentino appears to have done a second podcast with Mig. Marc’s heart hammers, feeling slightly sick at the thought of what the older man might say about him this time.

To Marc’s surprise, he isn’t mentioned at all in the first 20 minutes, Valentino talking instead about the academy and next year’s prospects. He has to admit that it is rather sweet, how much Vale cares about his boys and his excitement about the youngest ones he is coaching, still in the lower leagues. It reminds him of Vale’s humanity, and how much he attends to the things he is passionate about. There is a soft smile growing on Marc’s face.

When the conversation turns to Pecco, it naturally flows into Ducati and their prospects next year. That means that Marc is the obvious next topic. He feels frozen when Mig asks, his mind overwhelmed by thoughts of what he might say, what insults he could procure. It is not exactly like Marc has been kind to Valentino recently, pushing him away at every attempt. Maybe Valentino has realised that Marc isn’t worth it, and this is his revenge. Marc can’t breathe. When Valentino opens his mouth, he squeezes his eyes shut. But then, Valentino begins wax poetry about Marc, praising his impressive comeback and determination. Marc is so shocked that he doesn’t even register the way Mig smiles, looking pleased.

He blinks.

Another text comes through, the notification covering the top of the screen. He doesn’t know this number but it has an Italian call code. His heart thumps. He scans the message, once, twice, three times, his hands shaking. The words blur in front of his eyes and his pulse is thundering.

“Sorry, I didn't have a chance to forewarn you.” The message reads. It can only be from one person. Marc thinks his jaw has hit the floor. It has to be a joke, surely? He doesn’t know where he stands with Valentino now, especially with the older man suddenly switching up his entire judgement of Marc. To go from hatred to love in a weekend feels so incredibly unrealistic that Marc is finding himself second-guessing everything. And now this. He no longer knows what to think, or what to trust. His heart and his brain are at war and within himself he feels a deep sense of conflict. He wants to believe that Valentino loves him, to fulfil his heart's wishes, but his brain is holding him back. Marc doesn’t reply, letting the screen turn black as he stares. The message sits unopened as he turns off his phone.

[15-lizards]

Worldbuilding wise do you think the ideal woman and ideal man flickers from kingdom to kingdom? I can’t see the reach and north having the same ideals and I cannot see the Stormlands and vale or westerlands and dorne.

Yeah I mean it’s like every culture, where morals and ideals vary from place to place due to their history and surroundings etc etc. also prepare for a long tangent as I force you to listen to my sociology and psychology training

1. It’s canon that Northerners are rougher and sterner people, due to their way of living and the ever present threat of years long winters. Life is first and foremost about survival, so being frivolous and carefree is more looked down upon. Men and women have roughly the same moral standards placed on them I think. They’re both supposed to be more serious and frugal, though ofc men have expectations of dominance and strength while women are expected to be stern matrons. However the patriarchal ideas of the south are not as strong up north, bc in a place so often barren and hard to survive in, everyone is needed to put in 100% to keep their families alive. Which also leads me to thinking ab more of a collectivist culture in the north

2. Riverlander culture is also very family oriented. They are steeped in traditions of their houses, and old stories that happened centuries ago still resonate with them. Thus an ideal man is a staunchly good man, one who cares for his family and raises his children well. He is practical, he values the advice of his old advisors and he must be a father to his men, especially the ever-suffering peasants. Women are considered the hearth of the home. She is loyal to her husband, father, or brothers, and must give them the sound advice of women (when appropriate, of course). She is gentle voiced and soft, frequently gives out alms to the poor and passes down the traditional tales to her children.

3. Westerland culture is incredibly individualistic. You are fighting for yourself and your house instead of the collective good. So in both genders, ambition is positively regarded, and men and women are often expected to have sharp wits in order to survive cutthroat politics. However the patriarchy is still like. A thing. So women are often confined to the domestic sphere, but powerful ladies are definitely expected to wield their influence within it. Overall just a very harsh vibe to live up to and stern gender divides despite the opulence and decadence of the culture itself.

4. The Reach is very similar to the Westerlands in terms of morals and ideals, but covers them up far better. It still rewards ambition and cunning, but you have to be incredibly graceful throughout. Manners and courtesy are very alive here. Men are told to be valiant, courageous, and outgoing, and are expected to charm their way into what they desire. For women, it’s a standard for them to be lively and sweet, and there’s an unspoken expectation that they be able to navigate the court politics with grace. A far more charismatic version of Westerners, if you will.

5.The culture of The Vale is ruled by stuffy social codes. Tradition, honor, and frivolous rules dictate everything about a persons behavior. The ideal man is gentlemanly and noble, who is even handed and respectful in his behavior. He is friendly, but there is a certain aloofness about him that is not to be breached, as it would be a violation of the social code. The model woman is even more aloof, as too much friendliness tells one of her loose morals. A good woman must be above suspicion, withdrawn and just a little bit cold, but still empathetic and devoted (to the gods, her family, and subjects).

6. Dorne is fairly equitable in how they view their men and women, this is true in canon. Oftentimes one of the harshest places to live in Westeros, I feel like there's little time for divisive gender roles when every person is needed to work and help the collective survive. Both Dornish men and women tend to be sociable and friendly, due to their collectivist culture. An ideal man is considered to be outgoing, someone who treats their subjects and friends in a familiar manner. And they must be a least a little bit hot blooded, being seen as a sign they will defend the land Nymeria fought for. Women are supposed to be equally as friendly, frequently having guests over and creating community. They must be bold too, have a will to live in the lands. However, their customs often are mistaken for promiscuity by the non-dornish.

7. The Iron Islands ideal people probably have more of a stereotypical Norse/Viking mindset. It's not an easy land to live in, and both men and women have to be hardened in order to survive, the weak are left behind. For men, it's all a battle of dominance. If a man wants respect, he has to take it. He must be the strongest, the most violent, the man who can lead others to bloody victory. A lot of crass, stubborn personalities exist in turn. Women, even though looked down upon, still have to be as hardened as their men, despite the lack of respect they receive. A "respectable" woman is stubborn and unshakable, with a temperament that can take whatever is thrown at her. However, she is still jeered and disrespected by the men who call her a good woman.

8. The Crownlands are interesting, because there is no one defining culture, it's a real melting pot. The ideal is whatever is popular during any given time, which is dictated by whatever king sits the throne or noble whispers in his ear. So, men have to be very gregarious, able to get along with everyone, incase whoever they are loyal to suddenly falls from grace, and they must curry favor with someone else. Women are expected to be flirty and coquettish, an accomplished girl who can catch the eye of prominent noblemen that can secure their future. Basically a city of snakes and backstabbers looking for footholds into power.

[possessionisamyth]

In addition to that bingo card here are

Things I would like to see in more Chreon smut and Chreon fic in general:

-Chris bottoms! Let him bottom! Please unlearn that the bigger, darker, "meaner" character is the top and the smaller, thinner, "softer" character is the bottom. It's not just fujoshi tropes. That's literally how so many people write het ships that many of you all claim to hate, and this occurs even moreso when race comes into play.

-They're both emotionally constipated right after a job. Don't let Chris be the one that gives in and is emotionally understanding and gentle with Leon. Let them both be rough around the edges and struggling to meet in the middle, but let them BOTH put in those baby steps of effort. No more Chris handles Leon like a little soft baby boy as if Chris isn't just as brutalized on the clock.

-Leon reaches out to Chris first. For people who've actually gone through Revelations 1, RE5, and Death Island especially, you will notice that Chris doesn't try to talk unless he needs to. Other than that, he will let the other person talk and talk and just listen. Chris is a listener, and he will not defend himself. He'll defend what he's fighting for, but never himself. That screams low self-esteem as the war against BOWs get worse and worse. Leon handles this with jokes but Chris meets it with quiet and that's such an interesting character trait I wish more people would explore.

-They're both wary about saying "I love you" too soon. It doesn't need to be friends with benefits or a situationship for them to have this concern. Who knows when either of them will be coming back from a mission alive no less unscathed. Let them avoid it for as long as possible and let their actions speak louder.

-Let Leon say "I love you" first. In addition to the last point, let it be Leon showing that vulnerability first and foremost. It can be an accident where he's absolutely mortified or even during an intense moment where Chris is being especially difficult and withdrawn. No need to list all the traits or reasons why Chris is worthy of Leon's love, but let Chris really sit there with it and battle about whether or not he deserves something like that at all. Their lives are so dangerous, and he's lost so many people. Could he handle losing Leon after a confession like that?

-Leon's place is extremely bereft of personal touches. It looks more like a hotel than a place someone lives. Instead of what people assume every person with an alcohol addiction lives like, let Leon's place show he's really fallen into believing the government uses him as a weapon and nothing more. If there are any personal items, it's limited to a small, hidden place only he can access. The first time Chris comes over he deems it impressive. Leon's living like in one of those magazines, but the more he visits and the less changes he sees, the more concerned he becomes about Leon's state of mind.

-Drunk Chris comes onto sober Leon. I've only seen this a handful of times, but more of this role reversal would be so nice.

-Sexy roleplay that isn't the same BDSM dirty talk I keep seeing over and over again. Put Leon in a halloween sexy nurse costume. Put Chris in those pin up calendar firefighter costumes. Put Leon in a chip n' dales fit. Put Chris in a maid outfit. Like, establish roles they have to play instead of the Chris Dom Top and Leon subby femboy bottom I keep seeing everyone copy off from each other.

Hope this inspires people. I'm too busy writing a rarepair.

[lilbittymonster]

AO3 End Of Year Roundup 2024

Tagged by @crackinglamb 💜

Tagging @crystallineconflict @nidstiniens @myreia

Words Posted: 33,783

Additional Words Written: 64,946

Total Words Written: 98, 729

Fandom(s): Final Fantasy XIV

Works: 33

Highest Kudos: An Exercise in Submission, E, 2.5k

Highest Hit Oneshot: An Exercise in Submission.

New Things I Tried: I can now check "has written tentacle porn" on my writer bingo sheet lmao. ~Tendril porn if you want to be pedantic about it.

Fic I Spent The Most Time On: Song of War, T, 6.3k. I remember dragging myself through writing the fight sequence in the second half a hundred words at a time over the course of....five-ish months? I was really bogged down with trying to rewrite something that everyone had already played through while keeping it interesting to read.

Fic I Spent The Least Time On: Honestly that could be most of the XIVWrites fics, since that was sort of the point of the event, but I think it has to be Stable since I already had the scene in my head and it's the shortest word count of them all.

Favourite Thing I Wrote: Surrogate. I was up until after 3am writing this as it's a collection of several of my personal headcanons with Alberic and Estinien when he was younger. And I think that Alberic is a character that's overlooked and underutilised a lot for people who write with Estinien and/or dragoon OCs. So if I have to singlehandedly fix that then I will!

Favourite Thing I Read: A Land Long Dead by @nhaamazu. I'm absolutely enchanted by the worldbuilding and the Beauty and the Beast fairytale being woven into and through canon.

Something I Finished: ...just about everything? I won't list all 33 works here, but I only have a couple outstanding WIPs at the moment.

Miscellaneous Highlights: I joined a writing server again. I had sworn off joining big fandom servers after several bad experiences in various ship servers, but I had reached a point where I was the only one really actively writing and publishing in my private fc server and felt like I was boring everyone else. I also felt the need to put my eggs in some other baskets, so to speak, so when a mutual of mine created a server with the explicit mission statement of "curate your own experience" I decided to give it a go.

And so far it's been great! Doing the diet NaNo event got me to write 34k words in a single month which is easily the most I've ever written in such a short amount of time. And there's a small circle of regulars that have cropped up. It's been pretty chill for the most part.

Writing Goals For 2025: Finish and post the HW fic. Realistically, I'm going to finish the EW caster rolequest rewrite sooner, and I'm also looking forward to that one, but the HW fic is my big project that I'm actually really invested in.

Final Thoughts: I've been trying to fight XIV burnout for a while now. The social isolation is really starting to hit, what with half of my dashboard all vanishing into various discord servers and siloing shit there, instead of hanging out on the dashboard. The group I was raiding with disbanded quite some time ago and the discord finally got deleted. I've mostly withdrawn from a lot of shared canon stuff with Kitali because I really don't know what to do with her anymore. And I'm trying to find a love of creation again, and lately that means trying to bury myself in writing again and withdrawing into my own little bubble. And, y'know, I've gotten over 44k words in the HW WIP and some 3-odd thousand in another and 15k in the EW caster rewrite so I wouldn't call it a total loss. And I actually did a lot of words for XIVWrite this year.

And in a strictly fic sense, I sure am feeling some type of way about the most recent fic having over 3/4ths of hits and more kudos than my first longfic for XIV that has been around for over 2 years now. But, I get it. The former is a M/M smutfic between two NPCs and the latter is a G fic with no romance in it and is largely OC based. I get it.

I think for 2025 I want to actually get back into making shit instead of just mindlessly grinding the game. Dawntrail killed off any real drive for me to do late game content and I think that's a good thing since I have a whole other playthrough to focus on. I want to be able to turn the "I have an idea..." into an actual finished Thing that can be absorbed by other people so I'm not just going insane in my own mind over things only I know about.

This year was pretty rough on me so hopefully the next one will be. If not better, at least not worse.

See you all next year!

[nohoney]

do you think Katsuki and the Reader would pull a Katniss and Peetahbx?? could you maybe write something about it? i feel like it’s be very interesting, all three living in the victors village, and the love triangle

oooh let’s nod our heads and say that they did (◕‿◕)

“Bakugou. Where’s (Name)?” Hawks asks after navigating through at least a dozen people in the party to try to find you. You’re supposed to stick close to either one of them, no matter what. The three of you need to stick together since the Capitol’s eyes are on you for breaking the rules. A year has passed since you and Bakugou were put into the games.

And it’s been months since you’ve withdrawn into yourself.

“I think they’re trying to split us apart.” Bakugou tuts, “They’re nosier than ever. Fucking pricks.”

Hawks worries for you; you were already nervous as it was just getting ready. He can only hope you’re keeping your composure wherever you are. You haven’t been the same since the games.

The near death experience changed you, and it didn’t help that you were confused about your own feelings towards himself and Bakugou.

“Hawks is gonna take care of you, okay? You’re going to be alright as long as you stick by him.” Bakugou tried to calm you in the last moments of the game when you and him were left standing. Hawks remembers how you trembled, distraught with blood on your face. “He’s always cared about you more than anyone else.”

“N-No… I need you!” Your voice shivered, “I can’t go home without you!”

You tried to cling to Bakugou but he was able to push you off. The both of you were tired but Bakugou still had enough energy to throw himself into a rushing river, which in a matter of seconds would have killed him and made you the victor. Instead the second he threw himself in, you ran right in after him.

The two of you drowned. The game makers acted quickly to stop the rushing tides of the river and their machines finding your bodies that would have been impossible to find if not for the controlled environment to make the waters still within a matter of seconds.

There was no choice but to let the two of you live to the relief of audience but not to the Capitol.

The hardest part about living after the games was watching you become so quiet. And all the questions of the relationship between the three of you began to arise. Bakugou’s words about Hawks taking care of you, the childhood stories Hawks revealed to gain you extra support in the games, all the recordings played of the three of you together or apart were over analyzed to delve deeper into what the relationship between the three of you was.

“Hawks, we know you already said it before, that you only think of (Name) as someone you care about. But just between the two of us, you can tell me-“ a random party goer comes up to Hawks and invades his space.

It’s all Hawks is doing at these shindigs, avoiding questions from others about how he feels about you. He’s been bombarded for the last few months with questions and recorded clips in his face and elite gossipers swearing that he can tell them the truth and it won’t get out.

“Fuck off.” Bakugou pushes off the random person and stomps away. “‘M gonna find her.”

“Yeah, the two of you together go find your little princess.” A couple giggle together before quickly turning away.

It did not help that everyone was thinking that you were being handed back and forth between Bakugou and Hawks.

They find you sitting at a table amongst others, leaning on your elbow and looking exhausted. There are several little flutes on the top of the table and what looks like a servant grabbing a napkin and wiping at your mouth. Hawks recognizes the liquid in one of the flutes; it’s used to help people throw up when they feel full so that they can keep on eating or drinking.

“You feel better? Here, you got it all out your system so have another drink.” Someone offers and you blindly reach for it.

Bakugou is quick to step in, “She’s done, get that away from her.”

“Oh come on! She can handle it! She already did it three times.”

Oh fuck, they had to get you out as soon as possible. Hawks is excusing everyone politely while Bakugou carries you off.

“My tummy hurts…” you mumble into Bakugou’s collar. “I don’t feel good.”

“Because you kept drinking and then throwing it up. Those damn assholes were trying to keep you drunk.” He points out, “We’re taking you to bed.”

Hawks walks behind, bidding goodbye on behalf for you and Bakugou and just also wanting out of this party.

The three of you ride silently in the bullet train back to your district. You’re curled up against a leather couch with Bakugou’s coat over your shoulders and Hawks rubbing your back to soothe you. Your head is in your hands, having kept it down the moment Bakugou settled you onto the couch.

“They made me drink,” You murmured, finally finding some energy to put your head up, “I didn’t want to but they gave me stuff that didn’t taste like alcohol.”

Bakugou’s lips press into a thin line and his face easy to read. Hawks isn’t surprised at all but he’s frustrated that they managed to isolate you away from them.

Out of the three of them, people look to you to reveal what the nature of your relationship is with them. Months of prodding and pestering. If Bakugou hadn’t mentioned anything about Hawks before diving into the water, then the two of you could have just been paired as a couple and played the part for the crowds after pulling you up from the river.

Now the three of you are tense around one another, walking silently back to the victors village and to your separate houses.

You look at both of them but cast your eyes down quickly as you enter your home. Bakugou only watches you disappear behind your door before secluding himself away. And Hawks stands at his doorstep first, looking at yours and Bakugou’s house side by side together.

This wasn’t what he imagined what it’d be like to have you and Bakugou back. He finally has neighbors in the village and yet it’s feeling lonelier than ever.

[yan-lorkai]

Ok so I know you're going Through It™️ with the vampire pomtrio fic. But I am curious on how exactly Epel came to be..."adopted" by Vil and Rook. Idk if it'll ever be brought up in the fic so imma ask now if that's cool. If it is then I'll just wait! If not then I would love to hear an infodump about their backstories in this au I love monster aus so much man 🙏🙏

Well, I did leave some crumbs in the fic but now that I'm thinking about it, everything was very subtle. So I'm just going to info dumping about Epel and his dads to u :D

Ok so for Epel I was imagining him being a sick child, always bedridden (inspired by me btw, I used to be the sick child), looking at the world through his little window and wishing he was different. He wished he was strong like the others so he could jump and run and play with the other children, he wished he could feel the sun on his skin as he worked in the fields with his grandmother and cousin. He wished people wouldn't look at him with those eyes full of pity, as if he were already dead. He knew that rumors about his condition were circulating among his neighbors, he just didn't know that anyone else was hearing them.

From his perspective, wishing did nothing. He was still so weak that his body couldn't stand upright a long time, he was still coughing and vomiting, and no doctor knew what he had. His medicines no longer working, his hopes fading, he became more withdrawn after a while, almost monosyllable. He wasn't living, he was just existing and Epel judged his existence as something insignificant in that dark moment. One day he fell asleep after another appointment with the doctor - this time a blond foreigner with beautiful lilac eyes, and he had a heavy but peaceful sleep, unlike many others in which he woke up with difficulty breathing. This time he felt no pain. He didn't even had any nightmare.

Although he felt better, a little stronger, after drinking the cocktail made by the Doctor with a funny name, Epel was still on the threshold between being sick and getting better. When he thinks about that moment now, he should have realized that Vil's words were filled with immortal secrets and that he knew more than everyone else. Vil was different from anyone he had ever seen or spoken to, and Epel had spoken to many doctors and nurses, yet Epel wished for Vil to cure him. Wishing was useless but he continued anyway. He preyed for it very quietly when he thought he was alone.

If you ask him, he still remembers how his transformation occurred. It was raining and windy that day, the raindrops hitting the roof were so loud that he couldn't hear anything that was happening outside his room. Honestly, he was glad he couldn't hear it. But he remembers feeling fear come over him when Dr. Schoenheit entered his room, his lab coat stained with blood while tiny drops still fell from his lips. He looked like a beast about to devour everything his fangs could reach. And yet, Epel supposed there was something poetic about dying at the hands of the one who had saved him. Instead, Vil asked him to join his little family, which at that time It consisted of just him and his father, Eric, that loved to travel around and see how the world had changed.

Epel agreed, as long as Vil spared his family. For which he approved, he had enchanted Epel's family and neighbors for them to forget him. He could have easily killed them but he was not bloodthirsty back then, every killing had to have a good reason. And then it happened. Epel was adopted and left together with Vil- no, his dad, as he liked to call him. Ofc everything was new to him and he often got scolded when he was out exploring humans villages alone and attacked someone when he got hungry. But nobody could judge him, Epel was living life (or death? 🤔) to its fullest!

(not sure if I'm gonna include this but initially I thought that over the years, Vil's father's passion took a stake to his heart. After all, humans are fearful people who fear the unknown. This would be the main reason for Vil to become even more responsible and mature, and cruel. He was never too compassionate or empathetic towards human being a natural born vampire, but after losing his father he had became more closed off to the everyone but his.)

Anyway a few centuries later, Rook Hunt appears in their lives. An eccentric vampire hunter known to trap vampires to study them, to know how to better hunt and kill them, mind you he only does this for fun. The first time met Vil he was so mesmerized by Vil's beauty that he started courting him, sending him little gifts (which consisted of the heads of his enemies, blood sags to feed him or his son, the most beautiful clothes and tiaras he could find). Meanwhile Vil is right here, confused bcs "wth is this strange human and why he likes to follow me around? Why isn't he afraid of me?" But like, eventually those two get together as a couple and Vil turns him too.

Though Vil did talked with his son first before turning Rook. He has a rule: for anyone to join the family, every member should want this. Otherwise, a transformation is not viable.

(But y'know initially Deuce would also be Epel's older brother - mostly bcs I love their friendship, Deuce would be Yuu's friend who guided them to this vacant mansion and also the one to vote for Yuu to become their younger sibling. Can't remember why I didn't follow this idea tho, but now I'm going to be think about this for a while)

This turned longer than I intended hehe. But if you still have any questions to make, I'm more than happy to answer it :)

[grayskies2525]

The Reluctant Reunion |M/M| Chapter 11/13

Word Count: 3,965

Link to all chapters: The Reluctant Reunion

The day Connor left didn’t entirely come without precedent. Connor had become distant at the time, and especially withdrawn in the week leading up to it. Felix had noticed Connor was skipping meals, sleeping less, and becoming disengaged in their conversations. Felix, initially, thought he was coming down with something, but it quickly became clear there was something deeply wrong. So, Felix had been suspecting something, but he hadn’t been prepared for how abruptly everything would change. As Felix lay in bed now, he thinks about how utterly foolish he’d been to not have expected it. Afterward, he’d think back and realize a lot of Connor’s things had slowly been disappearing from Felix’s apartment, as though Connor had long been in preparation for the day. But Felix had complete trust in Connor and their relationship, and despite Connor’s hesitancy to move in with him, hadn’t doubted the strength of the love they had for each other. If he had considered the possibility of their love coming to an end, he would’ve imagined it being a gradual thing, like a favorite shirt slowly making its way to the back of the closet until it’s worn and blending into the surroundings. He would’ve thought there’d be conversations and attempts at trying to rekindle the fading spark. Instead, it shattered in a single five-minute conversation. 

_____

They had coffee at Felix’s favorite place. Felix knew Connor was building toward something. It was in the way his gaze seemed to dart everywhere except at Felix and in the way he nervously tapped his thigh. 

“Hey, babe, your coffee must be getting super cold at this point. I mean, you do know you're supposed to drink from it — not stare at it morosely,” Felix teased, though it was feeling increasingly difficult to continue acting as though everything was completely fine.

Connor didn’t even look up, gaze solidly cast on the cup. 

Felix felt his stomach sinking. What could be so bad?

“Um,” Felix started, trying and failing to keep the shakiness out of his voice. “Connor… You’re not, like, sick with a terminal illness or something are you? Because you really need to just tell me if you are.”

Connor finally looked up, his sad eyes finally reaching Felix. “No. It’s… it’s nothing like that,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m — fuck, this is much harder than I’d imagined it to be, and I hadn’t thought it’d be easy. Felix,” he starts, voice slightly steadier. “I got a new job. In New York.”

Felix looked at him, absently shaking his head at the words. “New York?” he managed to finally say.

Connor winced at the words, as though hearing the words spoken back pained him.  “Yeah, uh, my cousin, Brad, he works at this publishing house there. He put in a word for me…and, well, long story short, I did an interview over Zoom and was offered an editing position. It’d be a much more steady stream of income than I have now. And it’d give me the chance to make connections with the right people to get my books out there a little more, you know?”

Felix stared at him, feeling thoughts toppling over each other in his head. This is a good thing, right? But, then, why does he look so sad? He applied for a job and interviewed for it all without telling you? Why are we just now having a conversation about this? We could have celebrated this! But, his expression….What the fuck?

As the ground crumbled beneath him at the realization of what was happening, Felix met Connor’s gaze. “Connor, you know… You know I’d come with you, right?” he finally asked. 

The expression  on Connor’s face is what had made it all suddenly start feeling real.  “Yes, Felix. I know you would,” he said, the words hitting Felix harder than a physical blow ever could.

Of course he knew. Felix had been ready to move in with Connor six months after dating, but Connor was never willing to commit. 

“But, you’re not… You’re not going to ask me to come with you, are you?” Felix asked, already knowing the answer.

A multitude of expressions coursed across Connor’s face, but the answer was clear even before he spoke. “No, Felix, I’m not. I couldn’t ask you to do that. Not when….” Connor trailed off, averting his gaze from Felix.

Felix started to feel anger bubble up beneath the hurt and shock at the situation. “Not when what? Not when you don’t love me? Is that… Is that what you’re saying? Because that’s the only reason I can think of for why you wouldn’t even ask me,” he says, trying to quiet down his voice, feeling stupid for having agreed to meet Connor in a public place.

“Felix… Fuck. Of course I love you. God, my chest fucking aches with the love I have for you. But to have you upend your entire life to come with me to a city you’d undoubtedly hate… To ask you to give up something for me…. I don’t love you enough for that, no,” Connor said, the resolve clear in his voice.

 Felix glared at him as he felt anger building. “No, no. You do not get to do that. You don’t get to act like you’re making the choice to leave me behind —  because that’s what you’d be doing —  for my benefit, somehow. I am an adult, Connor. If I want to make the decision to move to a different city because the person I love has a great opportunity there, then that’s my decision to make. I’m not going to sit here and let you hide behind that ridiculous self-righteous excuse like you’re… like you’re some kind of fucking martyr. I’m telling you right now, I’m more than willing to go with you. I love you and I want to go with you. So, if you’re leaving without me, I need you to be straight up about it,” he said, making sure his words came out measured and steady even though his throat was thundering in his chest. “It should be simple, Connor. I’m ecstatic you have this chance. I’m not asking you to give that up. I’m asking you if you love me. It’s literally that simple.”

“Felix, it’s not…. You’ve only had a single minute to even consider what I’m saying. You can’t be sure you’re ready to make that kind of decision.”

“Connor,” Felix stated firmly, refusing to break his gaze. “I am sure, more sure than I’ve ever been of anything, that I love you enough to go anywhere with you. I’m a high school biology teacher; I can get a job I love anywhere I’m at. My parents… Ben… I can still call them every day. There’s nothing tying me here,” Felix said, desperation laced throughout each word. “So, all of this is up to you. I’ll ask again. Do you love me?” Felix asked, his stomach already feeling sick at the answer he knew was coming.

Connor’s eyes glistened as he looked at Felix. “ I love you Felix, but I don’t love you enough. Not enough to — just not enough, no. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Felix.” He opened up his mouth, appearing to want to say more, but quickly closed it. His expression hardened into one that spoke of walls being built, walls meant to keep Felix out.

Overcome with nausea, Felix stood up, scooting in his chair. “Okay, then…. That’s that. Um, you’ve clearly thought a lot about this and have already made your decision. So, yeah, go off and enjoy your life, I guess….” he said, feeling all kinds of bitter sentiments piling up inside him trying to spill out. But instead, he turned, looking one last time at Connor. “I really do wish you the best, you know? Just… good luck, okay?” He said, and really had intended to leave it at that, but some of the bitterness did float back up to the surface. “But also, like, what the hell, Connor? You couldn’t have told me you’d been feeling this way before? I mean, who does this?”

But Connor’s expression remained guarded, his defenses unyielding.

So, Felix shook his head, turned away, and left.

Felix had spent night after night awake after that, thinking Connor would surely reevaluate his feelings — that he’d realize the way Felix did that the love between them was real and something rare to be treasured and held onto — that it was enough. But those words at the coffee shop were the last he said to Felix. 

Until two days ago, a year later, at their chance meeting at the bookstore. _____

The reverie Felix is lost in fades as he sneezes onto the back of his wrist.

“Hep-t’shhooo!”

He appreciates that the sneezes are feeling lighter and less overwhelming, though he’s still reluctant to attempt stifling them — at least when he’s in bed alone and doesn’t feel pressured to. But while they’re lighter, they’re coming frequently, every couple of minutes.

It’s now after 9 o’clock in the evening and true to his word, Connor has mostly left him alone, except to come in to make sure he was eating and that his temperature wasn’t too high. After eating scrambled eggs and toast, he feels like he has a bit more of his strength back, so he decides to finally attempt a shower. But first, he digs into one of Connor’s dresser drawers to find something to change into.The hoodie and pajama bottoms he’s currently borrowing from Connor are well past needing washed — the hoodie’s sleeves being yet another victim of Connor’s awful flu, and the pajama pants having been soaked through with sweat multiple times. Searching through Connor’s drawers brings an odd nostalgia as he remembers doing the same thing many times in the past when he wanted to get cozy. After finding an acceptable set of sweatpants and an old long sleeved “support your local library” tee — both of which are much too big for Felix’s slight frame — he ventures into the bathroom to take a shower.

After the shower and getting dressed, Felix sits on the toilet seat, with his eyes closed for a moment. He’d been fine in the shower, but it seemed to wipe out all of his energy reserves. But he deems it worth it because now he smells like an actual human being again. The problem now, though, is that he doesn’t want to have to get back in the smelly, sweat-soaked bed. 

So, he does the sensible thing and decides to change the sheets himself. He figures he can find Connor’s spare set and get the gross ones in the wash. However, after dragging the comforter, sheets, and blanket off the bed, his body starts vehemently protesting. 

“Heh-t’shhhoooo! Hnkg’tchooo! Hnkk’tchooooooo! Hnkkkk’tchoooooo!”

He uses his fresh new sleeves to catch the dripping, spraying sneezes. He groans at the new mess they leave behind.

“HEEEHH-P’TCHOOOOOO!”

After several more, wet, spraying sneezes, Connor comes in as Felix sits cross-legged with the sheets and comforter laying in an entangled heap on Felix’s legs. 

“Uh, hey, what exactly is going on here?” Connor asks, a quirk to his lips.

“I’m - hehhhhh - I’m sneezing heh’tchooooo! Et’chooooo! T’chooooo! Chooo! Chooo! Chooo! Ugh! Chhooo! Because that’s apparently - heh? Apparently a thing I do in over-abundance nowadays hehhhh-t’choooooo! I miss - heeehhhhh heh? I miss the days when I could breathe without sneezing, oh my god t’choooo!” 

Connor hands Felix several tissues and Felix blows into them long and slow, wincing at the friction of the tissues and the moisture seeping out over the already peeling cracks of his skin. 

“Well, the sneezing isn’t permanent, I’m sure,” he says, smiling gently offering a hand that Felix takes, finally standing up off the floor. “Are you feeling any better? I heard the shower going.” Connor asks.

Felix looks up at Connor and nods. “Yeah, I don’t feel feverish anymore. Just achy and tired and HEH’tchuuuhhh! Ugh, and sneezy,” he says, wiping his nose with another tissue. “The shower helped too,” he adds.

For the first time since this whole flu from hell fiasco began, Felix sees a genuine smile from Connor — not one of his gentle, reserved smiles — but one of the bright, shining ones that make Felix want to do whatever it takes to see that same smile every day. 

“I’m glad. You definitely look better. But, uh, I have to ask. What were you doing on the floor?”

So Felix explains his very magnanimous intentions of washing Connor’s sheets for him, which provokes a laugh out of him instead of the expression of gratitude he’d been hoping for. 

“Listen, I’ll wash the sheets. But, I don’t have a spare set at the moment. A lot of my stuff is still packed up in boxes shoved inside my closet,” Connor explains. “You can just chill on the couch until they’re ready.” 

Felix weakly nods his head and makes his way to the couch. He sees a gray and white throw blanket thrown over the back of the couch. He remembers it from using it during his and Connor’s movie nights. He picks it up and wraps it around himself. He settles onto the couch, reclining the seat back, keeping the box of tissues settled on his lap. His gaze travels to the TV that’s playing some random movie from Netflix.

 Felix had been lightly dozing when Connor’s voice startles him.

“Roads are apparently better. So, we can probably get you home tonight, if you want,” Connor says.

Felix rubs his eyes. “Oh,” he states, not able to quite process the words. 

“But, my personal opinion is that if you’re okay with it, you should stay another night. I’d like to make sure your temperature doesn’t spike again. And the main roads may be fine, but there’s some roads on the way to your house I don’t feel comfortable risking unless you feel strongly about leaving,” he continues.

“That’s fine, I guess,” Felix mumbles, as his brain catches up to the situation. He stretches, then sighs. Then sneezes.

“Heh-t’chooo!” 

The sneeze is sudden, short, and spraying. In his post-doze haze, he hadn’t been prepared, so it came out uncovered, straight into the air.

“Ugh, Connor, I’m so sick,” Felix whines in a way he’s most certainly not proud of.

Connor has a seat on the other end of the couch. “You know, I had noticed that,” he says, a trace of laughter behind his words. “But I’m glad to hear you complaining. That’s probably a good sign, honestly. You seem a lot more coherent than you have been. I knew a day of rest would do you some good.”

Felix sniffles and wraps his blanket tighter around himself. “Yeah, still miserable though. I feel so gross. Even with the shower. My whole face just keeps leaking,” he says with a swipe of his eyes to emphasize his point. 

“It definitely looks like a horrendous illness to have,” Connor says. 

“Hmmm, yeah,” Felix says, lazily. “I really hate to say this, but you’ll probably experience it first-hand, yourself, soon. I mean, I think it’s super inevitable at this point,” he adds.

“What, you mean with how you’ve been sneezing on me with every chance you get?” Connor asks, but he sounds more amused than annoyed.

Felix feels shame pinken his cheeks. “Yeah…. I really hope you know I haven’t been doing that on purpose. My nose has been so tickly and itchy just, like, all throughout my sinuses. It’s like there’s a feather up there constantly, so when it is time to sneeze, I can’t tell the difference, so they’re just exploding out of me. Everywhere,” he says looking away, feeling embarrassed.

“Felix, I know you’re not doing it on purpose. I remember your normal sneezes. They were literally the opposite of how you’re sneezing now, so I figured this must be an especially brutal sickness to get your nose acting up like that. But, really, don’t worry about it. I never get sick.”

Felix narrows his eyes. “Oh, yeah, sorry I forgot. Just how you’re not allergic to cats,” he can’t resist teasing.

“Okay, that’s… that’s fair, I suppose. But that’s different. Colds and flus just aren’t interested in infecting me, I don’t know what to tell you,” he says, looking smug.

Felix laughs and rolls his eyes, but finds his smile fading away as he thinks about how easy all this is — how easy it is to sit on Connor’s couch while wearing Connor’s sweatpants and T-shirt while he’s wrapped up in his old favorite throw blanket. He thinks about how in the past two days all the careful boundaries he’d placed in his mind have been completely torn to pieces. In the last year, Felix placed a ban on all Connor-related thoughts —  it was easier that way. Of course, it wasn’t especially effective when every spot in town seemed to hold some kind of Connor-centric memory. But he tried. And he’s been mostly okay. He knows Ben would say differently, but he also knows Ben is as dramatic as they come. Felix, himself, thinks he’s been holding up pretty well considering how the person he’d imagined spending forever with dumped him like —  as Ben would put it —  a bag of carrots in the span of a few minutes. As though all they’d built and worked toward together was nothing more than a meager, inconsequential sand castle that could easily be washed away in seconds and forgotten.

But, now, here they are again, sitting together on Connor’s couch, as though nothing ever changed.

He breaks free from his troubling thoughts and looks to find Connor frowning at him. “You all right?” Connor asks, brows knitted. “Your fever’s not coming back is it?” Felix shakes his head and opens his mouth to say something, but isn’t sure what it’s going to be. 

“Why did you have to pick my favorite coffee shop?” Felix hears himself asking, then internally groans at the absurdity that of all the things he could ask, that’s the first thing out of his mouth.

Connor, understandably, tilts his head and looks incredibly confused. 

“I just — I mean, when you dumped me. Out of all the places, you pick Bitter Grounds.” Felix says, emphatically, then pauses. “Which, you know, now that I’m saying it out loud, is a hell of an ironic name for a place to be dumped.”

Connor’s rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I dumped you. We weren’t teenagers at prom.”

Felix glares, but probably ruins the effect by giving a liquidy sniffle and a rub of his nose. “Connor, trust me. What you did was dump me. As the dumpee, I can say I was well and truly dumped. Like, a stupid, freaking apple core being dumped into the garbage. Like, I was nothing. You literally were, were l–l-like heh’tchooooo!” Felix stops to wipe his nose with a tissue. “Ignore that,” he says, fiercely, tissue still covering his nose, not wanting this conversation he’s been waiting a year to have to be deterred by sneezes. “You were all ‘Sorry Felix, but I’m going to New York. Nope, you can’t go with me, I don’t love you enough, blah blah blah, bye! Heh-t’chooooo! And that was, like, the end of the entire conversation, Connor,” he says, his voice ridiculously congested sounding, his n’s and m’s entirely lost to his sickness. 

Connor is wincing, but Felix isn’t sure if it’s at the words Felix is saying or the increasingly gross display he’s beginning to make of himself as he blows his nose. “Okay, if – if that’s what it felt like for you, then, okay. I’m not going to tell you your feelings are wrong. But, um, I decided to have the conversation with you there because it… it made sense, at the time. I didn’t want to have it at your apartment, you know? I didn’t want to taint your home with that memory. But, on second thought, I can see how doing it at your favorite coffee shop was, uh, perhaps a bad idea. I should’ve picked Starbucks, I guess,” he says, with a weak smile. “But, listen… Are you sure you’re ready to have this conversation? You seem somewhat … preoccupied.” 

Felix looks up through watery eyes from where he’s vigorously rubbing his nose in attempts to coax out a sneeze. “Yes, I am more than ready to have the conversation. I don’t have a fever. Just a runny nose and some snee-hehhh? Sneeeeee-hehhhh??”

Felix remembers Connor’s trick from earlier when he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Felix eagerly takes his own finger and trails it along his nose, just as Connor did. 

But nothing happens. 

He throws back his head and groans. “Connor, we’re not d-d-d-done with this conversation, but I need your h-h-h-elp. Do what you did earlier. HeeeHHH! With your finger.”

Connor doesn’t look exactly excited at the prospect. “Um, are you sure you can’t do it yourself? I don’t really want to, you know, be in the splash zone, so to speak.”

Felix shakes his head and scrunches up his nose. “N-n-n-no. I think it’s like heh! I think it’s like the way tickling works. Like, you heehhhh HEH! Ugh! Like, it doesn’t work if you do it yourself. And besides I’ve sneezed on you already, and apparently, you ‘don’t get sick’ so just stop being a baby and help me heeehhhhhhhhh heeehhh? HEHH!” 

Connor lets out a sigh as though he’s being heavily put out by this request. “You know, somehow I’d forgotten how bossy you can be.” But he still moves over to Felix and trails the tip of his fingernail lightly along the bridge of Felix’s nose. 

“Oh my god, yes. K-k-keep going. Heeeeh! HEHHH-T’CHOOOOOOO! HEHH-t’CHOOOOOO! Heh-TCHUUUHHHHH! Heh’TCHOOO! CHOOOOOO! CHOOOO! Choo! Choo! Choo! Choo! Choo” Felix gasps and shakes his head violently. “HEEHHHPP-T’CHOOOOO!"

He finally opens his eyes through an immense amount of tears. In hindsight, he realizes he should have had tissues at the ready, but he was so focused on getting rid of the painfully ticklish sensation in his nose, he hadn’t even considered it. He looks over to Connor, who has a throw pillow covering his face as if using it as a shield, and Felix can’t help but laugh at the image.

“‘Kay, I think I’m done,” he says sheepishly. 

Connor slowly lowers the throw pillow. “Do you, maybe, want a little DayQuil? It might help with that, uh… situation you’ve got going on with your nose.”

Felix considers the offer, but shakes his head. “No, we’re having this conversation now. And I want to be clear-headed. Well… As clear-headed as I can be when my head, quite literally, is stuffed up with snot.”

“Okay, are you absolutely sure you want to have this talk, now? I don’t know if talking about this when you’re vulnerable is the best idea.”

Felix gives a final – or what he very much hopes to be a final – wipe of his nose. “I’m not vulnerable. I am entirely lucid. I’m just wickedly stuffed up. And drippy,” he says with a sniffle. “Somehow at the same time. But, I’m ready, Connor.”

Connor smiles, but he’s obviously nervous. He sighs before standing up. “Okay, well, then, let’s do it. How about I make some hot chocolate? The steam might help with that stuffiness you got going on. And I think I have another box of tissues around here that you look like you’ll be needing too.”

“Sounds good,” Felix says, but his heart is already pounding in his chest.

He sits up taller on the couch, moves his blanket so it’s now only covering his lap, and braces himself.

Part 12

[sayonaramidnight]

Do you find that your interpretations of your character changes as you get older/learn more about the world around you? For example, a soft character may have started innocent but they (and, by extension, you) choose to keep them that way despite the harshness of the world? Does your character's expertise on a subject change as you become more familiar with it, etc.?

This question has made me think a lot and my thoughts went many different ways, so please forgive me if I get incoherent and/or start digressing~

In general, I'd say my interpretation of my characters kind of depends on my mental and emotional state, but also on where I am with my life and what kind of stories and motifs I'm currently into, and what I'm fed up with. There was a time when I thought of kind and gentle characters as too sweet and naive, but later I learnt to admire them. How about those who are serious and brooding? Younger me thought they were So Cool. Older me wanted to make fun of them. Current me just waits and sees what they do.

That said, most of my characters have been with me for many years, decades even - and then there's Helvi, who's only been there since, 2018, but I started playing for serious in 2019! Given that time is a weird soup and the years 2020-2023 have blended into one short period of time in my mind, it feels like two years at most, so I'm not sure whether I got older or more experienced in such a short time XD

But! One of the very few things I've known about her since the very beginning is that she follows Menphina and it makes love one of the big recurring themes of her story. It got me wonder, how to interpret her faith, because, really, there are so many ways you can go to express it! Will you share your love with your family? Friends? Paramour(s)? Nation? Random people you meet on your way? Do you pray for everyone's successful love life or just focus on your own? Seek your fairy tale romance or indulge in daydreams? Have many lovers or commit to one relationship, or maybe fill your heart with pure love for the whole world instead? So many possibilities and for a long time I didn't know what to choose...

Then it turned out there was room in her heart for all of the above, to some extent.

But let me tell you it wasn't easy to figure out for quite a while. See, from Heavensward to Shadowbringers I played with no long breaks. I had all these expansions, so I jumped from one story right into another and didn't give myself much time to sit down and think. After the emotional rollercoaster that was HW, I mostly ran Helvi through SB on autopilot, and then another rollercoaster came along... And she felt so tired most of the time, so exhausted and still the kindest soul ever, but distant and withdrawn at the same time. She spent a lot of time grieving and self-loathing And I asked myself: is she going to get better? Can she get better? Can she fall in love again? Does she even want to? And at that time, the answer was 'no'. She seemed.. resigned to her fate. Reached into her own soul and found darkness, and decided to embrace it and use it to fight. And it seemed like she would be hardened that way.

Then, there was a long break between ShB and EW, and I could finally think in peace, share my thoughts with friends and answer their countless and valuable questions, and even write a few snippets, putting her feelings and some events from her life. I let her go back and do some thinking in peace too. She let herself laugh heartily again. She didn't stop being a dark knight, but simply added red magic and dancing to her fighting skills and thus found the balance she needed. She made peace with herself. She even fell in love again, after all, and is not going to let this love go. Now, in any friend group, she's that friend who gives away hugs freely and dotes upon everyone, and dances like no one's watching, and also defends you fiercely.

I know I'm rambling, but all I want to say there is a big difference between playing with or without long breaks and it may change your perspective and interpretation of your character :D

[partrin]

sad haru hours.

i know it wasn't ever really talked about in free! because haru never really spoke of his feelings about it (the only time i ever recall anything said about his parents is when makoto offhandedly remarked about how haru's parents are "free-spirited") but i can't imagine anyone, not even haru (despite his stoic nature), growing up without their parents and not feeling any sort of... fear of abandonment because of it. maybe i'm just saying this as someone who developed an intense fear of abandonment because of my own personal strained relationship with my parents but... being someone who dealt with that fear/the absence of parents the same way haru does for most of the series (re: indifference, at least outwardly), it makes me wonder if haru has ever felt empty or a sense of longing whenever he spends his time around the tachibana family, or when he learns of how tight-knit the matsuoka family is despite rin's loss (of his father). i wonder if haru felt any envy, and then guilt for feeling that way, only to quell it down by masking it with indifference (because that is exactly how i dealt with the envy and guilt growing up. even now, actually). i wonder if that's why haru's character is portrayed as quiet, withdrawn, lonely and emotionally-stunted (or if it's just a coincidence. like, how far into haru's upbringing did kyoani actually decide to take into account when they created his character? i really want to know).

.. because as someone who has seen and observed the difference it makes in a person's character when they grow up in a secure home with parents that are present (e.g. rin being confident and able to work towards big dreams for himself, makoto being generally secure and positive about everything.. both of them having the support of their families), it makes haru's character so painfully relatable and dear to me. and then all of haru's struggles unfold with the series (not understanding if what he felt was loneliness, not being comfortable with physical contact—a common experience for people who did not grow up with much physical intimacy from their parents, struggling with rejection (quitting swimming the moment he felt rejected by rin and then dwelling on the guilt because he thinks rin quit because of him), struggling with emotional expression, not wanting to explore beyond his comfort zone, not having a dream because no one has ever really pushed for him to reach for one and thus struggling with relating to those around him that do have goals and dreams, and then finally having a dream and pushing himself way too hard because there is no one to guide him (and so he takes azuma's words quite literally when he tells him he has to throw things away in order to become stronger).. idk. i'm not sure how to describe what i feel about this but it makes me want to put haru in my pocket and protect him from the world because i relate to too much of it.

it's a common theme in most of the fics i've read that talk about haru's relationship with his barely-there parents.. but i wish there was some sort of confirmation from kyoani about why they made haru's character the way he is and whether it has anything to do with his family. like, i know a big part of consuming content is reading between the lines because not everything has to be spelt out for you to grasp the idea, but.. maybe the little, childish me deep down that thought, "hey, he's just like me" wants it to be confirmed and true instead of feeling like i'm just making a big deal out of nothing, y'know? but anyways.

ily haru. you are my baby. ily ily ily.

[kaseyskat]

lovesong 38 for the kiss prompt pwease nyxie <3

(#38 - a kiss because they're running out of time)

~~~

"You're going to break up with me."

The way Nick says it has Sparrow flinching, even as they sit together in Nick's bedroom, hiding from the rest of the world. You're wrong, he wants to say more than anything, but the words die on his tongue, and all he can do is turn his head, stare at his partner.

Nick is staring straight ahead, not looking at anything. His hair hides his expression, and with the way his hands are folded in his lap, his shoulders slumped, Sparrow knows he's already accepted it; that this night will be their last, one way or another.

"Yeah," he finally admits, and he breathes deep through his nose and exhales through his mouth, just like his father taught him. "I... you know I don't want to, but..."

"Your family," Nick says flatly. This, too, almost has Sparrow wince: over the two years they've been seeing each other in secret, he had finally gotten the soft side of Nick, the side of him he hadn't let anyone else see. It hurts now, being treated just like the rest of their friend group.

"My family." Sparrow slumps now too, and he stares at the floor- it hurts too much to look at Nick any longer, to see someone he loves so withdrawn. "I don't want to hurt you, starling."

"You could never hurt me," Nick says, quietly, but he doesn't sound entirely convinced.

It's not true, anyways. All my brother and I know how to do is hurt people. Still, Sparrow swallows, and he hesitantly reaches out one hand, placing it over Nick's in his lap without looking at him in the process.

"It doesn't have to be tonight," he murmurs, tentative and soft, hesitant. "Will you... will you spend one more night with me?" Please. I don't want this either.

Sparrow has never prioritized his own wants over the needs of others, especially when it comes to his father and Lark and the mess of the world they've made together. This one, though, hurts worse than all the other times he's allowed his familial duty to win over his personal desires. Can't he have one good thing in his life? Can't he have this?

"One more night," Nick agrees, and when his hands close over Sparrow's own, Sparrow finally regains the courage to look at him. Surprisingly, Nick is looking back at him, and even with how upset he clearly is about the entire situation, his gaze reflects nothing but fondness.

"So kiss me," Sparrow challenges, and he tilts his head up, baring his neck. Make me forget why I'm breaking up with you. Make me feel like this night will last forever. "Please."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Nick huffs.

Usually, when they kiss, it's in a blaze of passion. Sparrow still doesn't really care for kissing, but he enjoys the way Nick feels pressed against him, the heady rush of power that goes to his head, the way Nick makes him feel claimed, taken, loved.

This time, though, it's slow. Nick trails a hand over Sparrow's cheek, thumbing gently over the curve of his lips, his fingers tingling as he brushes hair behind Sparrow's ear. Sparrow's squirming in place by the time those fingers trail lower, to his neck, and then curl around to his hair.

"Nicky, what are you doing?" he finally asks when Nick still makes no move to lean in, instead focusing so hard on combing through Sparrow's hair, his gaze dark and intense.

"Studying you," Nick answers. "So I never forget."

Well, damn. Sparrow shuts up, and he takes the time to study Nick in return: the curve of his jawline, the way his jacket gives way to his collarbone, the faintest trace of bite marks that Sparrow's left for him in the past. He is, Sparrow thinks, unfairly attractive.

It'll hurt leaving him behind. Fuck.

Finally, finally, Nick uses the hand still tangled in Sparrow's hair to coax him forwards, drawing him into a kiss. It is softer than any other time they've kissed: before, Nick would kiss like he's staking a claim, but now each gentle press of his lips is an apology, a goodbye.

Sparrow can only close his eyes, allow himself to fall prone into Nick's arms, remain stock-still when Nick trails his lips against the corner of Sparrow's mouth and then lower, mouthing at the skin of his neck.

If Nick notices when he starts crying, he doesn't say anything.

[whiteheartlight]

Your thoughts on Onua not stepping in to help resolve conflict among his siblings have been rotating in my brain. What do you think this tells about him as a character if I may ask? (He deserves to have some flaws and make mistakes.)

ONUAAAAAA I love him and yes he gets to be flawed too. I like the thoughts I've talked about where he is genuinely just soaking in the chaos and enjoying what's going on instead of intervening (eating popcorn while Tahu tackles Kopaka), but I also see his passivity to their conflict as just being a means for him to avoid becoming wrapped up in it, and honestly, with the way the rest of the team (Gali, Tahu, and Kopaka especially) get so frustrated with each other at times, there's some benefit to him just being able to stay out of it. He enjoys chaos, but he's also wise enough to know that some of the bickering is just not worth getting involved in.

But it does sometimes leave Gali feeling like he is unwilling to help! she's annoyed with him in the very first book because of this. I think Onua sees things very objectively sometimes and chooses to sidestep emotional involvement at times. That makes it all the more powerful when we see him step into emotions in other scenes, like when he throws himself fully into refusing to fight Lewa and comforting him through his first possession. and while fighting the piraka, he recognizes objectively that he will likely die if he does not run: instead, he looks around at his teammates and chooses to die with them, because he loves all of them. Onua can make extremely difficult decisions, like freeing the Bahrag to destroy Mata Nui when no one else can do it. I headcanon him as the one who would be Kopaka's right hand if Tahu ever died or was incapacitated, but they'd have to have a discussion about the need for Onua to intervene more actively in interpersonal issues.

Onua can distance himself in a way that is reminiscent to Kopaka, but Kopaka's self-isolation is often implied to come from fear of embarrassment or rejection, and we never really get that suggestion from Onua. He's in control of his social needs and the way that he relates to his teammates, choosing very particularly when to intervene. This can make him a loyal friend and confident emotional support - it can also make him hard to reach or aloof to the problems of his siblings if those problems seem unimportant to him. He's emotionally intelligent, so he has no excuse for not helping keep the team together better at times or at least letting the others know he cares about their unity!

For more on his flaws, my expectation is that Onua could become withdrawn during times of his own emotional need because, in the same way that he sees some of other people's emotional issues as being unimportant or not necessary to intervene in, he can think the same about his own issues and just push through without reaching out for help he may need. I also think he would make a poor politician in terms of working with others on the new world: he almost always knows the right answer to a conflict, but having to argue with others about it would be extremely grating to him and would make him feel alone in his wisdom (although he will always stand up for what's right without hesitation if needed). He prefers offering counsel to those willing to listen, so his more argumentative siblings can handle the squabbling with his support behind them.

Oh, and he hates having his quiet time interrupted by strangers. Unless you're his siblings or friends, don't try to talk to him while he's digging!