#I think my mojo is coming back slowly

[minaturefics]

Head and Heart

Request: Could I request an Aragorn x Reader fic maybe where they have to separate during the trilogy, and when they’re reunited they both want to confess their feelings but they each think it’s unrequited?

A/N: It's here.... finally here.... I honestly don't think this is my best work, but I've gone over it so many times and I think it's time to just get it out here! I hope you enjoy it all the same, and thank you for your patience. I think I've lost my writing mojo - this might be the last fic in a long time (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Aragorn x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Non-graphic mentions of wound treatment

6.6k words

---

There was an unsettling sillness to the forest. Darkness curled around the little campsite, only kept at bay by the small fire. There were no croaks or squeaks from the shrubs, no hoots or chirps in the trees. There was not even the slightest whisper of wind to rustle the leaves. Behind you, the company slept, breaths loud in the silence, while you kept watch. The fire had burned low, the warmth of the flames barely reaching your back, and you glanced behind, wondering if you should refuel it, but Aragorn was already kneeling by the smouldering flames, feeding it sticks and twigs.

It had been a tense couple of weeks with the long treks at night and the fitful sleeps in the day, the unyielding wind and the unforgiving landscape, the cool indifference between the emissaries of Gondor — you and Boromir — and Aragorn.

When you had first laid eyes on him at The Council, you had noted his handsomeness — his dark hair, his piercing eyes, his short beard flecked with grey — but then came the revelation of his lineage. So this was the king come to claim the throne of Gondor. This was the man you would have to swear fealty to and serve under. This was the man who would inherit the land and people that the stewards have long since cared for. 

As though sensing your gaze, Aragorn looked up from the fire and met your eyes. He stood, eyes only flickering away for a moment to check on the others, and walked towards you slowly. You straightened, muscles tensing, and he brought his hands up in a placating gesture. 

“Peace,” he whispered. “I have only come to smoke.”

He settled on the ground next to the boulder you were perched on. Strange, for the king to willingly choose the cold earth when there was more than enough space on the rocks nearby, to willingly choose to be lower than you were. 

He brought out a pipe from his pocket, filled the bowl with leaves, and soon the air was filled with the sweet scent of pipeweed. 

“Do you smoke?” he asked around the stem of his pipe.

You shook your head. “Though I am fond of the plant they once used to be. In Gondor, you can smell them in the wind in summer when the flowers bloom. The scent of them followed Boromir and me to the borders of Rohan when we journeyed to Rivendell.”

He hummed. “You and Boromir must be close. There are not many who would be trusted with such a task.”

“We have known each other for many years.” You shrugged. “My family has long been loyal to the stewards of Gondor.”

You glanced at Aragorn, wondering if he had picked up on your subtle dig. It was not the throne, or who might fill it, that you were loyal to. Aragorn may be the heir, but he was still a stranger. And only a fool would trust another so easily, especially when it came to the country’s land and its people.

You expected him to frown, to grow grim and silent perhaps, but instead a small smile pulled on his lips. “I do not think you care for crowns and titles.” He took a long draw from his pipe and blew it out in a steady stream. “Your heart is with the people and the land. I do not think there is anything you would not do for Gondor.”

Your stomach flipped. How had he read you so easily?

“Of course,” you said, irritation rising unbidden within you. “We have lived in the shadow of Mordor for many years. We have supported and defended the people. We have shed sweat and blood for them.”

“I understand,” he said, serious. “I am aware my presence is an uncomfortable one. But we are not enemies.”

“You do not understand. Gondor may be your birthright, Aragorn, but it is myhome.”

“And I swear to you, I will defend her.”

“You swear to me?” You scoffed. “As a king?”

“As a man.”

You met his eyes. The firelight flickered in them, but there was nothing fickle about his gaze. Something stirred in your heart, a softening, an awakening, and you nodded, short and sharp. “Alright.”

-

Aragorn watched you as you tried to cheer the hobbits after dinner. They were seated in a circle around you on the soft moss, between the great roots of the Lothlorien trees, listening to your stories. There was a fire in your eyes, a merriment, a wildness, and warmth in your voice.

“And then,” you said in a hushed whisper and the hobbits leaned in, “Faramir and I pushed him into the river! Oh, Boromir was furious. He crawled right out and dragged the both of us by our ankles and pulled us in with him.”

Pippin snickered and glanced at Boromir who was seated beneath another tree root.

“You should tell them about the time you got stuck in the bell tower!” Boromir called, grinning.

“The bell tower?” Pippin’s head whipped back and you let out a long groan.

Your eyes darted to Aragorn’s, lighting up in surprise, and you flashed him a smile before turning your attention back to the hobbits. His heart gave a little lurch and he grimaced. He did not have time for such things.

Ever since that evening, you were quicker to smile at him, more likely to walk beside him and talk. He had thought  you beautiful before, stoic and stalwart, seated at The Council, but now, thawing, warming, it was like the first flowers of spring beginning to bloom. Beauty was one thing but spirit was another. And he could not help but admire yours. How you tried to encourage the hobbits through the snow on Caradhras, how you helped Gimli up from his knees in Balin’s tomb, how you stood, crying but defiant, after the Balrog took Gandalf. 

He knew, just as well as any, that it must have been grim, gruelling work as a ranger in such times. Many of his men had grown serious and solemn over the years, and a part of him envied the Gondorian rangers for having your light when he had none. 

He glanced down at the forgotten sword and whetstone in his hand. No, whatever fledgling feelings he might have for you had to be halted. He had just barely earned your esteem; it would be madness to think of earning your affection.

“That’s it,” you said, deflating a little, “I’m out of stories.”

Pippin and Merry gave disappointed groans, and Sam and Frodo flashed you grateful smiles. They went off towards their beds, fluffing the pillows and straightening the blankets, and fell into a quiet conversation among themselves. You stood up and wandered in Boromir's direction and he turned his attention back to his sword, running the whetstone along the edge with a satisfying shink. 

He lost himself in the motion, driving away thoughts of Gandalf, thoughts of the ring, thoughts of you. 

“Are you alright?” You asked and he blinked out of his meditative trance. Your eyes were soft and concerned. 

He nodded. “I am just burdened by the future. I am anxious to carry on with our errand.”

“It has been a harrowing few weeks,” you said, coming to join him on the soft ground. “It would do us all some good to rest here under the protection of the elves.”

“We do not have time.”

“We have time for this,” you said firmly. And then more gently, “Aragorn, we have all suffered a great loss. You more than most. You knew Gandalf the longest among us, have you not?”

“I have,” he murmured, the corners of his eyes burning. He sniffed and swiped his tears  away before they fell.

“Would it… would it ease your mind to speak of him?”

He was uncertain anything would ease the tightness in his chest and the hollowness in his stomach. Still, the words flowed from his lips, low and stilted.

“It was Gandalf who introduced me to pipeweed,” he said, memories of the mischievous wizard filling his mind. “Elrond was most displeased.”

You laughed, a hearty, sweet sound, and he let out a long sigh, muscles loosening. 

“He showed me how to fill the bowl and tried to teach me how to blow smoke rings.”

“Can you?”

He smiled a little, remembering sitting next to Gandalf, practising. “Not quite. It is harder than you think.”

“Well, perhaps next time you could show me.”

He nodded absentmindedly and shifted, laying his sword and whetstone aside. His pipe, in his pocket, jabbed him in the thigh with the movement. It would be nice to take a moment, to have a smoke and relax, just like you said. “Or perhaps,” he said slowly, “I could show you now.”

You glanced around, eyeing the ethereal flets high in the trees. “Is that permitted here?”

He grinned. “I’m sure they will permit it. In the memory of Gandalf.”

He prepared the pipe and lit the leaves. The smoke filled his lungs, sweet and soothing, and he leaned back against the tree root. After a few long draws, he attempted the smoke rings. The first few were short lived, more like coughs of smoke rather than rings, and then one or two vaguely ‘O’ shaped.

“Gandalf would be disappointed,” he murmured with a chuckle. 

“Have another go,” you said with a smile.

He inhaled, long and slow, the smouldering leaves glowing. He relaxed, Gandalf’s scolding instructions filling his mind, and exhaled. Two clouds, and then, to his amazement, a perfect smoke ring. 

You grinned at him, eyes bright, and warmth spread through his stomach. 

-

You tugged at the borrowed robes and wished you had some sort of mirror. They were soft and fine, the pale blue fabric iridescent in the starry elvish lanterns. It was gracious of the elves to extend the invitation of a formal dinner to the fellowship, but it seemed like everyone except Legolas and Aragorn felt a little ill at ease at the prospect of dining with the elves.

“Come on,” Boromir called, “we are waiting for you, my friend.”

You smoothed the fabric down and stepped out from behind the changing screen. The rest of the company were standing around, already changed, by the base of the steps. You walked towards them, forcing your eyes to stay trailed on Boromir instead of straying to Aragorn.

No, it did not matter what he thought of you. It did not matter at all.

The past couple of weeks in Lothlorien felt strangely like a dream, a world removed from everything else. Sheltered by the elves and swathed in trees, it seemed as though Aragorn could lay down his sword and rest. It had been odd, seeing him joke with the hobbits, egging their bickering on with his wry comments, or watching him laugh with Legolas while they spoke in Elvish. 

Was this who Aragorn truly was? He had more than shown his valour and strength in the past few weeks, his firm words to Boromir on Caradhras in the presence of the ring, his unwavering patience and calm in Moria, but this… 

Boromir clasped your shoulders and grinned. “You look amazing. These robes are more difficult to put on than our formal wear, but more comfortable I should think.”

You nodded, your eyes darting to Aragorn anyway. His eyes swept over you, expression barely changing as he inclined his head, and continued his conversation with Legolas. Disappointment pooled in your stomach as you followed the rest of them up the stairs towards the dining flet.

 Disappointment? At what? There was nothing to be disappointed about. He was a companion, just another member of the fellowship. It would be a foolish notion to expect his regard of you to change simply because yours of him had.

And what was it that changed it? Some promise of caring for your homeland, some moments of laughter and levity, the shared grief of losing a companion? You shook your head. How could you let yourself be swayed by such things? He was still yet to prove himself a good king.

Dinner was an uneventful affair. The food was good and any dips in conversation were filled in by Legolas who told tales of Mirkwood to the elves. Eased by the wine and bolstered by the delicious meal, Pippin shyly asked if there was to be music and dancing, and the company was led to another flet with musicians. 

The hobbits had paired up, and Legolas, cajoling, baiting, and challenging Gimli, managed to get the dwarf to at least attempt the steps. Boromir and you had stood off to the side, choosing to watch first, and Aragorn was speaking to Haldir. The flutes and the harps were clean and clear, but the hand drum beat more rapidly than you anticipated.

“It is like our waltzes back home,” Boromir said.

“But faster.” Your eyes darted between the pairs, trying to puzzle the steps. “And it is to the beat of four and not three.”

“It is not so different,” Aragorn said. “In practice.”

“You know how to dance?” You turned to him, astonished.

“Of course.” He broke into a smile. “I was raised in Rivendell.”

You blinked at him and looked away. How did you forget? It was so easy, looking at Aragorn, to see the wild, skilled Ranger and forget the noble circumstances of his birth. Yes, he was a king. The disappointment from before corroded through you. Yes, you must not forget that. No matter his trappings — a good man, a good ranger — Aragorn was a king.

And a good man did not necessarily mean a good king. And Gondor… Gondor would need a good king.

Boromir nudged you with his elbow. “You should dance, my friend. You were always better than Faramir and I. Valar knows I’ll trip over my feet with this new music.”

“It has been many seasons since I last danced.”

“It is easy,” Aragorn said, offering his hand to you.

For a moment you stared at his palm, the creases in them still smudged with errant dirt despite the comforts of Lothlorien. The hands of a man who knew strife, who knew work. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you placed your hand in his and he walked you to the edge of the dance. He laid a hand on your waist, large and warm, and stepped closer to you. You could smell him, leather and soap and sweet pipeweed.

“Your other hand on my shoulder,” he murmured, breath rippling the errant strands of your hair. 

He led you through the steps, his fingers flexing on your waist, his voice low and close. You stared at your feet, at his chest, at the trees beyond his shoulder. Your heart sped up and you willed your breaths to lengthen, hoping he could not sense the change in you. 

“You are a good dancer. A quick learner,” he said. 

You nodded, not trusting your words. Warmth radiated from him, and it seemed as though your hand seared with the heat of his skin. He was solid and steady, and so, so close.

The dance was blessedly short, and when the final chord rang out, you stepped back from him, bowed stiffly, and walked away.

-

Aragorn cradled your head, his hand growing wet with your blood, and stared down at your pained face. Your breathing was laboured and erratic. Had they come too late? He glanced up to see Gimli and Legolas bent over Boromir. A black arrow stuck out from his shoulder and he let out a weak groan. Slain orcs lay around the clearing, their crude weapons scattered on the ground, and the hobbits were nowhere to be seen.

He looked back down at you, willing you to open your eyes. He couldn’t help but sweep his thumb over your muddied cheek. “Please,” he whispered. “By the Valar, please.”

How was it that it was only a week or so ago that he held you in his arms, warm and close, cheeks flushed from the dance? He had kept that memory close  in his mind, guiltily revisiting it in the quiet of the night, fingers twitching to reach out across the moss to touch you again. You had been strangely distant since that night. You were polite and friendly, but your glances had become fleeting and furtive and you hardly sought him out to talk in the evenings like you had done before. 

Did you catch a glimpse of the affection in his eyes? Were you discomfited by it? Possibly. Why else would you withdraw from him? Perhaps you felt it would be too risky to reject him outright, given his position as the future king, and thought it would be best this way. 

You groaned, brows furrowing, and mumbled something unintelligible. He whispered your name and to his relief, your eyes fluttered open. “Boromir,” you muttered. “The little ones…”

He looked up and saw Legolas and Gimli tending to Boromir, discussing how to remove the arrow. “He is alive. The hobbits have been taken by the orcs.”

“You need to save them.”

“I need to save you first.”

“There is no time… The Ring…”

“No. I will not leave you here.”

You muttered some garbled swear at him but did not protest when he began to inspect your wound. He parted your hair carefully, fingers combing through the matted strands. It was a fairly large wound, but not deep. At least, nothing that would be immediately fatal. It would have to be cleaned and bandaged properly to prevent infection. Legolas was already starting a fire and Gimli had gone off, presumably to camp to gather water and whatever spare cloths they could use as bandages. 

It was an hour later when you and Boromir were finally fully awake. Your wounds were bandaged but the both of you were pale and weak.

“The little ones,” Boromir said. “You must go after them.”

Aragorn looked at you. Your eyes were glassy and glazed, the collar of your cloak still stained with blood. “We cannot leave you like this.”

“Cannot? Or will not?” you asked, lifting your eyes to meet his. Your gaze was strong and defiant despite the pain. “The hobbits need to be rescued. Boromir and I cannot go on in our condition. We may yet live as we are, but Merry and Pippin do not stand a chance if you do not go.”

He exhaled sharply and glanced away. You were right, of course. But how could he leave you like this? Weak and bleeding, at risk of attack, at risk of infection. What would a good ranger do? What would a good king do?

“We could split,” he suggested uneasily. “I could remain while Gimli and Legolas go ahead.” 

But even as he said those words he knew it was not the best course of action. Gimli and Legolas, as skilled and strong as they were, would not be able to confront a pack of orcs by themselves. One glance at Legolas’ dubious expression confirmed his thoughts. 

“We are not on death’s door yet,” Boromir said with a grim smile. “I doubt that the orcs will return to this place; they already have what they came for. We can rest here for a day or two, then make our way back to Minas Tirith.”

The both of you, alone and injured? There were so many things that could go awry and it would be at least a three or four day journey to the city, longer even, in the condition the both of you were in.

“You know Boromir is right,” you muttered, your gaze steely.

It was then that he felt the way he did the night he spoke to you by the fire. That in your eyes there was a right thing to say or do, and anything else would lower your esteem of him.

He nodded slowly. “But we will not leave you here among these corpses. Let us at least get you back to camp with a fire. It will not take us long.”

You shared a look with Boromir and agreed. Between the three of them, it was quick work to help you back to camp. He would see you again, he knew, he hoped, but even then, as he followed Legolas and Gimli away from the camp, he could not help but look over his shoulder for one last glimpse of you.

-

A cool wind blew through the window of your room at the Houses of Healing, carrying with it the sound of the army marching out to Osgiliath. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, groaning and wincing, and slumped back against the headboard, craning your neck towards the window. If you could not see Faramir off on his deadly errand, then you would at least watch him from your room. 

How had it come to this? Boromir, delirious and incapacitated with fever and infection. Faramir, sent off to Osgiliath, surely to die. And you, weak and helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

Faramir had said he was relieved that you were not coming with him, that if he and Boromir were to die, he could trust that you would ensure Minas Tirith would be well defended and cared for. 

There was no comfort in that. There was no comfort in all of this. 

Duty and honour and calling. What did anything matter if you were left alone in the world? Without Faramir, without Boromir, without… 

Without Aragorn. 

For a moment, you laid any sort of obligation to your station, to your city and country aside, and allowed yourself to indulge. When did he become someone so close to your heart? How? 

It was all those moments of softness. Those rare moments where he was simply just a man, when he set down the mantle of ranger and king. Like when he smoked with Merry and Pippin, nestled between tree roots, discussing the characteristics of the various pipeweed strains. Or when he devoured one of Sam’s dinners of potatoes and wild mushrooms faster than anyone else, shrugging with amused resignation when everyone stared at him. Or when he sat up with you during your turn as the night watch, talking about his boyhood misadventures. 

And that moment when he had danced with you, his strong arms around you, his grey eyes bright in sparkling lights of Lothlorien. He had smelled like soap and cedar, and you were close enough that you could smell the sweet wine on his breath when he spoke. There was something in his eyes you had not seen before. Tenderness? Affection? 

You shook your head and laughed at yourself. Affection? There was little chance of that. You had challenged him that night by the fire, silently made him work for your respect and approval on the journey. It was necessary, perhaps, to prove to him that as a servant of Gondor you were not so easily swayed by someone who claimed to be king. But as a person, as yourself… There was no way that such behaviour would endear you to him. 

He was friendly enough, yes, but he was friendly with everyone in the fellowship. That was all there was to it. Camaraderie and friendship. And it was not as though he had given any indication of… feeling more. And as king, he would have to select a suitable partner. In Rivendell, there were rumours of his long friendship with Elrond’s daughter. Yes… Someone like her would be suitable. And you…

You would stand by as always, the protector and servant of Gondor, and watch him be happy with another.

The bell tolled and you snapped out of your musings. The army was just leaving the gates of the city, their armour gleaming in the sun. You muttered a silent prayer for them, hoping that Faramir would return whole and safe.

Yes, whole and safe. That was all you would ask for Aragorn too. It did not matter if he did not return your feelings, all that mattered was that you would see him again, healthy and smiling. 

-

The cragged stone walls of the narrow path began to look the same to Aragorn. The horses’ clops echoed off the high walls, and Legolas’ and Gimli’s muffled chatter strangely amplified. The air grew cooler and, somehow, more still as they continued forward. He glanced behind and Legolas gave him a short nod. They would be close to The Paths of The Dead soon. 

Andruil bumped his calf with each step the horse took and he felt for the pommel with his fingers. For so many months he had tried to ignore the truth of his heritage. To the hobbits he was Strider, and to the rest of the company he was simply a ranger. But now… there was no hiding, no denying, what he was. Who he was.

Would the others treat him differently now? Would they see him as other, higher, than they were? The thought of Merry and Pippin, usually so affectionate and playful,  growing distant and formal made his heart ache. Would Boromir retreat back into his position of Captain and Steward, rebuilding the walls that they so carefully took apart on their journey? And you…

He thought back to that night by the fire. He had not missed your subtle dig, your silent display of suspicion, and he had tried to reassure you, to show you that he was just the same as you and Boromir. And over the months it seemed that you had softened, sitting with him while he smoked, splitting your rations with him when he had offered some of his share to the hobbits, sharing amused looks with him when Gimli and Legolas were bickering about something inane. 

You even let him dance with you.

In that moment, he felt that you finally saw him as he was. A man. Just a man. But then your eyes had shuttered and you walked away from him. He sighed. There was no hope for him now. With the sword returned to him and him on his way to invoke the debt as the heir to the throne. You would be lost to him, he knew, the moment he was crowned. 

-

The city was in an uproar — singing, drinking, dancing — celebrating the destruction of the ring. It seemed that ever since Aragorn returned from the Fields of Cormallen, there were always people around him. You had recovered enough to return to your own rooms in the Steward’s House in the citadel, though Boromir and Faramir were still recovering in the Houses of Healing.

Aragorn had stopped by your rooms once, expressing relief and joy at your recovery, but had not come by since. So it had begun, then, the inevitable distancing that would happen. He had proven himself a worthy heir and king, marching with the Rohirrim, going to the Paths of the Dead, facing the Enemy at the Black Gate, just as you wished at the start of the journey. Gondor would be in good hands. But what of yourself and your heart? At the beginning, nothing mattered more than his suitability as king, but now… 

You let out a frustrated huff and shook your head. Maybe a walk would clear such futile thoughts from your mind. Maybe you should go see Boromir, he always had a way of cheering you up. It was a short walk down to the Houses of Healing and you found Boromir sitting up in bed, reading through some documents.

“Ah, my friend,” he said with a smile, setting the parchment aside. “You have good timing. I am sick of these papers.”

You peered at them. “Trade agreements?”

He shrugged. “Faramir and I have decided that he will take the post of Steward, but he still values my input on such things.” He took you in, eyes searching your face. “You are upset about something.”

You opened your mouth to protest but deflated instead. You sank into the chair next to his bed. “I am vexed by something. That is all.”

He stared at you for a moment before the corner of his lips twitched upward. “Is it Aragorn?”

“Why would you ask such a thing?”

He chuckled. “We have been friends for many years now, and have been by each other’s side for months. Besides, I have had my suspicions for some weeks.”

You shifted in your seat. “What suspicions?”

“That perhaps your feelings towards him have changed. Softened. I have seen it with my own eyes. I knew for sure that night in Lothlorien.”

You stared at your hands and sighed. “Even if I admit to it, it matters little. He will not return my feelings, and even if he did, I am not a suitable match for him.”

Boromir threw his arms up. “I know you are stubborn but you are being deliberately obtuse and difficult now.”

You bristled and frowned at him. “Do not tease me, I am not in the mood.”

“First, your argument of unsuitability is nonsense — your family is well regarded in the city, and do not forget your own title as Captain. And second, is it so hard to believe that he might return your feelings?”

“I don’t see why he would,” you muttered petulantly. 

He rubbed his forehead and let out a long breath. “I am not usually one to meddle in such… things, but a man can only take so much. You are not the only one who has come into my room, sulking and moody.” You blinked at him and he shook his head. “Aragorn is one to keep things close to his heart, yes, but even he cannot completely hide what is in his eyes.”

Your heart sped up a little. “What… what are you implying?”

“That there is reason to hope. And that maybe Aragron, like you, feels as though his feelings may be unrequited.” Your brows furrowed. “Ah, do not act confused — do you not remember how cold you were to him at the beginning? And how wary you were in the first weeks?”

“But I have been friendly since then.”

“Maybe so, but I would not fault him for being… careful. Some encouragement would not go astray.”

Encouragement? At the risk of looking like some fool? But Boromir was not one to make up stories, and his assessment of character and behaviour has not led him, or you, wrong so far. Perhaps you could… try. Try to show a little more interest, and see if Boromir was right. 

-

Aragorn leaned back against the cool stone wall and took a long drag from his pipe. He had escaped to some high tower in the Citadel, yearning for the open, unbroken sky, and wishing for a moment of peace. The stars winked above him, shimmering just the same as they did in Rivendell, and a fragrant breeze blew from the plains below. 

In a few days, everything would change. 

He had accepted it the moment they entered the Paths of the Dead. His lineage, his duty. He had known since the beginning that he would eventually return to the throne but those decades in Rivendell, those years of roaming the wilds made it easy to forget. He let out a long stream of smoke, watching the pale white puffs evaporate into the night. He inhaled, relishing the sweet scent of the pipeweed, and on a whim, blew some smoke rings.

He smiled a little, remembering that night with you in Lothlorien. It seemed like a whole lifetime ago. His heart had wrenched in his chest when you had opened the door to your rooms, and you stood, haloed in warm light, safe and whole and real. It had been nearly too much to sit in your rooms, talking and smiling, with you so close. The gravity of the mission and the perpetual looming peril during the journey helped keep his feelings buried, but seeing you at home in your rooms stirred his imagination and images of you, of a future with you, plagued his mind for days. 

He had tried to keep his distance, for his own sanity, but for the last week it seemed as though you were determined to seek him out. With the coronation coming up, it was inevitable that he would see more of you — you were assisting with some of the preparations — but you always lingered to talk when discussions were finished. You urged him to take breaks, suggesting he walk with you in the gardens or courtyards, and you even called on him one evening.

It was… confusing. Were you just being friendly? Or was there more to your actions? He knew he was not a man prone to delusion and it certainly seemed as though your feelings had changed. Warmed. But he wished to know for sure. Could he ask you? Would you be receptive to such a thing?

It felt as though he was running out of time. That his coronation would somehow alter things forever. 

He took another drag of his pipe and closed his eyes. He had faced death at the Black Gate but did he have enough courage to face you? To bare his heart, to be open, for the chance that you might reciprocate?

Yes, he thought, or he would forever regret that he did not. 

-

You rubbed the smooth fabric of the silks you were to wear for the coronation. It shone in the warm light of the candles and you stepped back to admire the handiwork of the seamstresses. Intricate embroidery decorated the hems of the sleeves and the collar, the design more ornate than anything you had worn before, and you traced it with your finger. It was beautiful, something more fit for royalty than one of the nobility, and you had protested, but Aragorn and Boromir insisted upon it.

You sighed and turned away, wandering towards the window. The city spread itself in front of you, the flickering torches on the parapets forming concentric circles leading down to the plains. Aragorn would take a partner eventually. Would they care for the city and Gondor? Would they appreciate her beauty and her people? 

The city was flooded with visitors, the citadel more busy than before housing the dwarves and elves and other nobles. Lord Elrond’s daughter had come with him and your heart shattered at the sight of her. But to your surprise, Aragorn had made no overtures to her. They were friendly, yes, but the little you saw of them together, they seemed more like siblings than lovers. Was it possible that you were mistaken? Or perhaps the elves had a more modest way of displaying affection?

Boromir still continued to insist that Aragorn had feelings for you but the evidence of it felt weak. True, he had taken you up on all your offers for walks, and had talked long with you when you called on him that one evening, and once or twice you thought you had seen the tenderness in his eyes but you could never be sure. Maybe it was too little too late?

There was a knock on the door and you called out.

“It is me,” Aragorn said, his voice muffled through the thick wood of the door. “I know it is late but I wish to speak with you.”

You opened the door and let him in. His eyes flickered towards your clothes hanging on the wall before he focused on you. He was dressed in one of his more casual tunics, still not changed for the evening, and your eyes darted to the open V of his shirt collar. “I am surprised you have not turned down for the evening,” you said, glancing away and gesturing for him to sit by the fire.

“I could say the same for you.”

He joined you on the cushioned bench and stared at the fire. His face was impassive and his jaw was tense. What was so important that he had to see you on the night before his coronation? Were there any last minute changes to be made?

”Aragorn?” you whispered. “What is the matter?”

“I was thinking about our first few weeks together when we left Rivendell,” he murmured. “You were not very fond of me then.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with it.

“And as you said, Gondor is your home.”

Your stomach lurched. “Aragorn, surely you know I do not hold any reservations about you anymore. If I had caused offence then, I —”

He shook his head. “No, I understood then, and I understand now. But still, given the coronation tomorrow, I simply wanted to be sure.”

“Then let me be clear,” you said, a little exasperated. “My feelings about you as a king have changed.”

He nodded slowly and stared into the fire. It crackled and popped in the silence. You wanted to ask if he had more to say, but something stayed your tongue and you waited.

“And of me as a man?”

“As a man?” You met his gaze and your heart started to thump.

His eyes were unguarded and soft, the silver steel of his eyes warm and molten. His lips were parted gently, as though he was ready to say more, but was waiting for your reply. What could you say to him? Was he asking what you thought he was asking? 

What could possibly convey the hidden depths of your affection?

You wanted to reach out, to place your hand on his cheek, but the space between the both of you felt like a chasm. Slowly, ready to snatch your hand back at any time, you moved it from your lap and offered it to him, palm up, on the bench. You avoided his gaze, scarcely daring to breathe.

He reached out, fingers curled and uncertain, and softly clasped your hand. His skin was rough and warm, familiar and foreign at the same time. You let out a ragged breath, sounding strangled. How was this possible? Was it even real?

“I was not certain,” you muttered. “But Boromir —”

“Boromir?” Aragorn chuckled and you looked up. He grinned and shook his head. “I did not take him as a meddler.”

“He simply… encouraged me to be open about my feelings.” Feelings. The reality of the situation dawned on you and a smile crept onto your face. “I cannot believe this.”

“I am in greater disbelief than you are. I was struck from the moment I saw you.”

“And I you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“You are not the only one who knows how to conceal your feelings,” you said with a laugh, shifting closer towards him. 

His other hand came to rest on your cheek. “There shall be none of that now. For too long have I been apart from you.”

He dipped his head and captured your lips. His lips were soft and tender. He kissed you slow and languid, savouring and tasting. He smelled of cedar and musk, and his breath held the lingering sweetness of pipeweed. You tried to pull back but he followed you, his lips seeking yours again. His kisses grew passionate, impatient, as though trying to make up for the time they did not have you.

He paused for a moment, breathless, and muttered, “Join me tomorrow, in front of everyone. Walk with me after I am crowned.”

“You would have me with you then?”

“I would have you with me always, meleth nîn.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Will you have me?”

“Yes. Anywhere, anytime, my love. Forever.”

[chukys-mouthguard]

prompts 15 and 20 w mat barzal, fluff heavy pretty pleaseeee

Prompts: “why can’t i say no to you?” + “you have me all wrapped around your finger”

Note: idk why my brain went here, but this is what instantly popped in my head with these prompts, hopefully the fluffiness translates with how i wrote this 🫶🏼

“Mat pleaseeeee!” 

You begged with your boyfriend as he playfully plugged his ears, pretending not hear you as he ignored the question you’d just asked of him. 

“Absolutely not, I don’t know where you got the idea, but it’s not happening. Think of something else.” 

Pouting was your next idea to try and convince him, though it seemed this would be harder than usual. 

The disagreement in question was over your idea for a couples Halloween costume. Mat usually the one to come up with the ideas, but this year you beat him to it. Having an idea already in your back pocket. 

The costume idea in question? Barbie and Ken. You thought it would be cute, picturing Mat wearing the Mojo Minx coat showing off his abs. But he immediately turned it down. You’d followed up with roller blading Ken, to which he actually cackled. And slowly but surely you were running out of Ken options. 

But you weren’t backing down. Determined to win the battle and get him to dress as Ken. 

“Babe…babyyy” 

Wrapping your arms around his waist as he’d begun cooking dinner for the two of you, he simply hummed a response urging you to continue. 

“It’s just, you always pick our costumes. And, I never can come up with good ideas. So, I thought of one and was so excited. But, you hate it. I guess you can be the one to pick our costume, yet again.” 

Your tone whiney and discouraged as he sighed, letting you know that you’d broken down his walls. 

“I don’t hate it…I just. I don’t like either of the options you showed me. I wanna feel comfortable and confident in the costume babe. That’s all.” 

He turned around in your arms to face you, a soft smile on his lips as he lifted your chin to make you look at him. “Hey, cheer up babe. We’ve got plenty of time until Halloween, we will think of something.” 

Now it was your turn to sigh, really turn up the act if you were gonna get him to crumble. 

“Yeah, I guess. I just thought I’d come up with a good idea was all…” your voice trailing off as you started to walk away, grabbing your phone from the island as you plopped down on the couch. 

“God damnit-“ 

You heard Mat mumble under his breath as he slowly dragged his feet and made his way over to the couch.  “What other outfits does Ken wear? Is there something a little more casual compared to the neon roller skating outfit. Or that freaking fur coat?” 

Mat laughed as a big smile came across your lips, “so you’ll do it?!” 

“Only if we can find something I can agree to. Go on, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of outfit photos saved to your phone let’s see.” 

Scooting closer to him you opened up your Pinterest, showing him the board with all the Ken outfits from the movie, letting him find one that he’d agree to. 

“Mmm, this one, I’ll agree to that.” 

Rolling your eyes you looked up at him after seeing the outfit he’d chosen. “Really? So you won’t wear neon colors or a fur coat, but you’ll wear a pink and green striped matching shirt and short set?” 

“You won’t me to take it back and refuse to do the outfits at all?” He looked at you offended before you quickly ate your words. “No no no, it’ll be great! Now I just have to decide on my outfit to match!” 

Mat smiled as you went back to your phone, scrolling your Pinterest board to find an outfit that would compliment his. 

“God, you have me all wrapped around your finger. Why can’t I say no to you?” 

He slightly cursed himself as he let it sink in what he’d agreed to. 

“Mmm, because you love me.” 

You smirked up at him before stealing a kiss. 

“Now that I can definitely agree on!”

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Drabble with Charlie attempting to be dominant and Casper flipping the script on him-

Let's flip roles, shall we?

Ngl had fun w this also think I got lost in through while writing-

Casper groaned as Charlie rolled his hips down on them. The blonde chuckled lightly as he dipped down and kissed on their neck. Their boyfriend really liked teasing them when he was on top.

"Awe, Caaasss....you sound so cute~" Mumbling into their neck Charlie sucked on it. Slowly going down a trail of hickies followed, Charlie smirked at his work.

"Would sound cuter if you fucked-MMHH!" A witty comment was blocked by Charlie smashing his lips against Casper. Moaning a bit into the kiss, as the blonde started slowly humping them.

Arching their back Casper moaned as they felt their climax start. Gripping the sheets as Charlie moved his hips rhythmically, focusing on Casper. His partner lifted a hand and yanked his head down.

"Come on~ Fuck meee.....what are you waiting fooorrr?" Whining Casper connected their lips to Charlie's. He moaned as Casper's hands went to his back and gently scratched him. Charlie ignored their pleas and let his head fall slightly.

The blonde's eyelids lowered as he focused on his hips moving. Causing Casper to make a noise of frustrations, Charlie laughed at this.

"Casper~ I'm in charge remember? Now be goo-WOAH?!" The dominant demeanor Charlie made vanished as Casper's legs locked around him. With little effort they shoved him to the side and rolled on top of him.

Charlie had a look of fear and excitement, the boner he had becoming more harder showed it. Looking up his cock twitched seeing Casper glaring down at him, face flushed with lust. Their eyes looked predator like as they looked at him, Casper then smirked seeing his reaction.

"Oh? And I though you were in control?" Mocking him. Casper grinded down roughly. Ripping a moan from Charlie, his hands shot to their waist. Casper didn't react to them they simply continued rocking against him.

"Oh!-What Cas? Gonna-fuck!....Just gonna just rock against me? Not gonna take me?" Poking the bear, Charlie saw Casper get a mischievous smile. Simply batting their lashes at him as they picked up their pace.

"Whhaatt?......Does Charlie want me to ride him? Fuck that cock of his till I'm only saying his name? Hhmm? Where you can only feel my walls clenching around you?...." Whispering Casper slowed their rocking hips. Causing their boyfriend to whine at the lost but stopped as Casper gave him a look.

Giving them big doe eyes, Charlie nodded but that wasn't good enough for them. Casper agonizingly slowly rocked their hips, Charlie closed his eyes trying to focus on that to get some type of friction.

"Charlie, baby boy?" The nickname made his cock twitch again and he looked up, "Use. Your. Words." Leaning down and Whispering lowly in his ear.

Chaire was getting a bit light headed how hot his body and face felt. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest as he looked at his lover. Clearing his throat a bit, Charlie's voice squeaked when he spoke.

"Please.....Ride me?" Shyly saying Charlie looked at Casper. Who chuckled and started tearing his cloths off, first with his shirt. The blonde moaned as Casper attacked his neck with kisses again, and to help he tugged on his lovers shirt.

Breaking away from his neck Casper quickly took their shirt off and smiled as Charlie's hands went to their chest. Groaning as his hands groped them, but they still needed those pants off of him. So gently taking his wrists they pushed his hands down and got up.

"Lift your hips." Telling their boyfriend, who followed. Casper was able to get the pants off quickly in a quick motion, then started on their's. Charlie began stroking himself as he watched his partner finish stripping for him.

"Your so hot....you know? Also a bit mean for taking my mojo away...." Huffing a bit, Charlie smiled as Casper got comfy back on his lap. They gave him a small frown before kissing him, slipping their tongue in as a apology. Even letting one hand slip down to pump his leaking cock, making his moans muffled as Casper continued to kiss him.

Breaking away Casper giggled seeing how their boyfriend whined and tried to grab them. Then standing on their knees began to prep themselves for him, smiling wider as Charlie focused on that.

"How can I not? You were taking too long....Also...." Pausing in their sentence to moan as they stretched themselves. "You like it when I just take control from you~ I'll behave next time okay?.....or next round if your up to it~" Giggling Casper leaned down and kissed Charlie who was wide eyed looking at them.

"Your going to be the death of me Cas..." Sighing Charlie looked back at them and smiled. Oh well, he's not complaining as long as they get their freak on. His thought's were cut off by him feeling warmth wrap around his cock slowly.

The blonde threw his head back as Casper slowly sinked down, moaning as they opened up more for him. Charlie's hands shot to their waist, gripping it tight and moaning loudly. Breathy giggles were heard as Casper looked down at him, then lifted themselves up and slammed back down.

"Ah! Fuck- Cas!- Oh god your so fucking-" Rambling form the blonde started but Casper locked onto his lips again. Kissing him as they continued to ride him roughly, Charlie's hands wondered their body as he looked at them through his lashes.

"Yeah? I know baby- Fuck!" Panting Casper threw their head up a bit breaking the kiss again. A string of saliva connecting their mouths as they both got lost in pleasure. Slaps of skin echoed through the room as Casper picked up the past the best they could.

Charlie, to get a bit even, thrusted up into Casper causing them to gasp and grip his chest. His partner glared down at him but moaned as he met their hips again.

"You- Fuck!" Trying to scold him, Casper couldn't focus as their orgasm got closer. Charlie was moaning loudly as he bucked into their hole chasing his high. With one more thrust both cummed together, Casper flopping down gently on Charlie's chest.

Light panting filled the room now as the couple tried to catch their breath. Casper looked up at Charlie and giggled, causing him to look at them too.

"That was so hot-" Blurting out caused Casper to snort at those words. The blonde joined giving sleepy chuckles as he realized how tired he was now. Casper closed their eyes as Charlie began stroking their hair gently, a nap wouldn't hurt right now.

[carlandoxlestappen]

My Jim | Jim Lake Jr.

Masterlist

I think this is the longest thing I’ve ever written.

But also, I’m sorry for completely disappearing. I’m trying to get my mojo back and I rewatched Trollhinters and remembered how much I love Jim Lake Jr.

“Where is Jim?” Was the first thing Barbra said as she ran into her home along with Toby, Strickler, Claire and Y/n, only to find her living room looking completely trashed with only Merlin standing in it.

No sign of Jim in sight.

“Finally becoming a true Trollhunter.“ The wizard answered firmly.

“You’d never.” Strickler said warningly, but it was too late.

They heard a thump from the bathroom upstairs, the group immediately ran up the stairs. “Jim!” Y/n gasped in realization.

“Jim! Are you in there?” Barbra yelled worryingly as she knocked on the door harshly.

“Jim please, just open the door!” Y/n shouted, pounding at the wooden door. “We will figure this out together just come out please!” She had tears in her eyes as she called for him, getting a sense of Deja vu of when he decided to go into the Darklands, all by himself.

“Jim! They’ve freed Morgana!” Claire said, standing by her best friend’s side as she hit the door. Y/n was staring worriedly as Claire pulled her back, allowing Strickler space as he began to ram his shoulder into the door at a desperate attempt to get to Jim before it was too late. Finally after a few tries, the door gave in and was flung open as they all rushed in but…there was no Jim. There was an empty jar on the floor and some sort of black matter spread in the water of the bathtub, but it was disappearing.

“Jim? Jim? Jim!” Barbra called repeatedly, staring at the black matter as it slowly dissipated. Strickler bent down and grabbed the jar on the floor, looking at it cautiously as they all watched, Claire, Toby and Y/n standing by the door frame helplessly. The girl watched in despair as Claire placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s happened to my son? Where is my son?” The woman asked him frantically while he just stared at the jar with wide eyes, causing Claire to cover her mouth with her free hand as Toby stared in shock and a tear dropped from Y/n’s eye.

She quickly turned around, hiding her face in Claire’s shoulder.

———-

It was the middle of the night. Y/n had fallen asleep, curled up on Barbara’s couch. They were both distraught after what happened as they waited for Jim to come back, and she decided it would be best to allow her to stay over, so she could be with her. Barbra was standing in the kitchen, watching the poor girl as she sipped on her tea before suddenly the door swung open, the glass of it shattering.

“Jim! Are you okay?” She said as she quickly ran to the front door, the girl on the couch jumping awake at the sound of her boyfriend’s name. She heard a grunt and a thump as she stumbled up, tripping over the blanket Barbara had kindly draped over her before running to the door.

“What’s going on? Is Jim-“ Y/n started to ask, but as soon as she rounded the couch, she gasped at the sight in front of her.

———-

Claire, Toby and Y/n flinched at the argument between Merlin and Barbara, the sounds of their voices and glass shattering traveling from the kitchen to the living room. “‘Promise’? ‘Promise’? You promised to help Jim!”

“Um, guys? He’s waking up!” Claire called to the others as the three teenagers watched anxiously, Y/n’s eyes wide as she watched her boyfriend stir on the couch where she had been sleeping a few hours ago. Blinky walked in, making Toby and Claire part so he could get a closer look as she moved towards her best friend, once again reaching for her shoulder. Claire truly had no idea how to help or comfort her in this situation. She knew how to comfort a friend if a boyfriend broke up with her. But a friend whose boyfriend turned into a troll? That was way out of her league. Jim grunted as he turned to lay on his back before his eyes flew open.

There he is. Y/n thought in relief, Jim’s bright blue eyes which she adored so much looking around then focusing on Blinky.

“Great grumbly Gruesome.” The troll muttered in shock as Jim sat up, rubbing his head with a groan.

“Honey? Do you feel okay?” Barbara asked slowly as she sat down next to him, touching his arm gently.

“He’s fine!” Merlin answered from the kitchen.

“We’re not asking you!” Blinky said in annoyance as Y/n turned around, giving the wizard a glare.

“One more word from you and Morgana won’t have a wizard to kill.” The girl grumbled harshly before turning back to the couch.

“I-I’m fine.” Jim answered softly, a smile on his face as he reached to touch his mom’s forearm but then got startled upon seeing his own hand. Well, his new, blue, four fingered hand. “Ahh! What’s wrong with my hand?” He asked as he stood on the couch

“Nothing’s wrong with your hand.” Claire said quickly. “It’s just a little…meatier.”

“In a good way!” Toby piped in, letting out a nervous chuckle. “It’s like you…leveled up.” He tried to put a positive spin on it.

“Yeah! You’re uh, bigger?” Y/n tried to help, but ended up wincing at her own words instead. Aaarrrgghh walked closer, beginning to sniff Jim with the stronger smelling sense he got when he was resurrected. He pushed his nose closer, his face pressing into Jim’s body before he suddenly moved away.

“No like. No like troll Jim.” Aaarrrgghh said in his broken English as he shook his head with fear showing on his face. He looked at Jim before turning away and quickly walking away from the living room.

“My elixir transformed our Trollhunter to something not quite human, not quite troll.” Merlin explained as Aaarrrgghh peeked back into the living room next to him.

Y/n reached out and grabbed Jim’s hand with both of hers, leading him down from the couch. Her eyes widened as she realized that both her hands barely even covered his new one, she was practically holding onto just his fingers. Jim was looking down at her and when she looked back, it also made both of them notice the new height difference.

“Like a changeling?” Toby asked as he looked to Strickler, who walked over and grabbed Jim’s chin, moving it aside as if to get a better look at him.

“No.” The man said confidently. “Changelings switch from fully troll to fully human. Jim is…neither.” He sighed as Jim stared at him, his face falling with his words. He let out a sound before jumping away, dropping Y/n’s hand as he jumped over the dining table and the counter separating the living room from the kitchen and they all heard the sound of kitchen tools cluttering as they quickly followed him. Y/n walked into the kitchen to see her boyfriend holding the toaster up to his face, using it as a makeshift mirror to observe himself as he made the sound you usually do when the dentist tells you to say ‘ah’ while he looked over his new teeth and most importantly, his much, much bigger canines.

“This isn’t so bad.” Toby said optimistically as the three teenagers walked over to him together. “You know, after a little haircut, we’ll find you some sunglasses, maybe a good dentist, huh?” He held his arms out and let out a nervous chuckle. “I know one. You’ll be right back to normal!”

“I look hideous!” Jim replied. Still staring at the reflection from the toaster. Y/n quickly leaned over, putting her hand on his shoulder and making him turn to look at her.

“You’re not, Jim. You’re really not.” She said, so easily it almost made him believe her, but then she caressed his cheek and he looked down to see that she actually had lean up to reach him, something she never had to do before. Jim smiled back at her softly but he still couldn’t help but look back at his reflection. They ignored the ruckus in the living room, until Jim heard Merlin talk.

“He is now capable of feats we never thought possible.” The old wizard said, making Jim turn to look at him curiously.

“Like what?”

————

After everything that happened last night, with Jim and Aaarrrgghh having a friendly spar and Claire and Jim having a competition of catch the Jim with her shadow staff, the boy never returned. They were all worried sick, and looked for him the whole day, until Barbara called Y/n, who was with Toby and Claire, telling her to go look at the school for him.

“Jim? Jim?” Toby called as they ran in through Claire’s portal. They walked through the locker area, Y/n and Claire looking all around while Toby checked the bathroom. “Jim, you in here?” Y/n and Claire each walked into different classrooms and Y/n immediately noticed a marking on a table, Jim’s table. She walked closer to see that his name had been carved into it.

“Jim?” She wondered quietly into the empty room. She leaned closer and ran her fingers over his name with a sigh as Claire walked in, asking if she found anything. “He must’ve been here.” Y/n sighed, and the girl grabbed her shoulders, turning her around to face her.

“Don’t worry, we’re going to find him and get him back.” Claire said reassuringly, making Y/n nod and take a deep breath before grabbing her hand as they walked out to check on Toby for any progress. “Toby!” Claire called as the two walked into the gym, noticing the boy standing by the bleachers at the other end of the room.

“He’s here!” He yelled, but that was apparently the wrong move because Jim quickly jumped from his spot under the bleacher with a practically animalistic growl, a sound that made Y/n’s eyes widen slightly as she glanced at Claire, her eyes saying everything, that came from Jim? He grabbed onto the latter before quickly moving to the rope and climbing it with ease. As soon as he got to the end he reached for a pole that was held far over their heads and crouched on it.

“Jim wait please!” Y/n shouted frantically as she and Claire ran over.

“Don’t you get it? I’m not Jim anymore. Go away!” He snarled at her before jumping away and through the window.

“He’s going to the roof.” Toby announced as he realized, causing Claire to quickly whip out her staff and conjure up a portal to the roof, but instead of walking through it, she gestured for Y/n to go, also grabbing Toby by the back of his shirt when he tried to walk into it. “You go. He needs you right now, more than us.” She said, ignoring Toby’s grumbling as she encouraged her best friend. Y/n took a deep breath before walking through the portal to the roof,.

“Jim.” She said softly, finally seeing him standing in front her, but as soon as he noticed her, Jim ran to hide behind something. “Please Jim, don’t run away.” She sighed, walking closer as he panted. “Whatever you are…we still love you. I still love you.” She said, making him somewhat perk up as he climbed atop the thing, looking down at her. They both ignored the sound of Claire’s portal opening behind them and Toby’s complaints to get off the roof. “I get it, you’re not Jim anymore. But you’re still someone we all care about.” Toby and Claire walked over, nodding along to her words.

“I can’t fight Gunmar and be the person you want me to be.” Jim said, looking away from them and staring downwards.

“We’re here on this roof for you.” Y/n looked up at him, trying to show her emotions through her eyes.

“Especially me, man. I just let Claire almost strangle me with my own shirt for you. Well, for Y/n too but still!” Toby added, making Claire roll her eyes but she still nodded at Jim encouragingly.

“And i get it, maybe you feel that everything has changed, but only the outside stuff. Inside you’re still you.” Y/n said softly, making Jim look down at them.

“You’re still our Jim.” Claire smiled.

“And we’re better for it. Jimbo.” Toby chimed in as Jim sighed. “Maybe your old life is over but that doesn’t mean we can’t be a part of your new one.”

“We want to be a part of it.” Y/n said and walked closer as Jim finally moved down to the floor. “No matter what you are, or how you look. You’re still my Jim.” She noticed he didnt look very convinced, and decided to make sure he knew her love for him, even if it took hours to explain. Because really, who could put them into words? “Jim who cooks the best steak I’ve ever tasted, Jim who was so nervous about meeting my parents you practically brought a buffet,”

She giggled at the memory, making him chuckle as he remembered how he came to her mother’s event, carrying so many dishes they practically covered his face and blocked his vision. Of course it still went wrong when the amulet started spewing different versions of him, but that’s just the way everything was for them. “Jim who danced with me in the most beautiful spot in Arcadia instead of some lame Mole Mania prom, Jim, my boyfriend. Who i love.”

She slowly reached up, and this time, he leaned down to her as she caressed his cheek, staring at him with a loving smile, the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, he thinks. “Jim, who I see my future with.” She said softly, making a smile make It’s way to his face as he reached to take off the hand that was on his cheek, intertwining their fingers instead.

Which once again brought his attention to the new differences, as he saw the way his blue hand held hers, so small and delicate compared to his. As soon as Y/n noticed the speck of doubt on his face, she was quick to interject. “It’s okay.” She reached with her other hand and grabbed his, holding them both between them. “It’s new and it will take some time getting used to, but It’s you. And i love every part of you there is.” She held their hands close to her heart, making tears pool in his eyes.

Suddenly, his mother and Strickler burst through the door to the roof, while Blinky reached it from the other side, with the help of Aaarrrgghh, of course. Y/n smiled at him as she stepped back, allowing them to reach him.

She watched with a smile and glassy eyes as he practically melted into Blinky’s arms once he wrapped him in a warm embrace. Claire walked closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, smiling as Y/n leaned her head on her shoulder.

“I told you we’d get him back.”

[teresalace]

"I won't cry for you" - Yandere Tyler Galpin x Female Reader PART 3

•Part 1 •Part 2

Words: 1699

Warnings: Mentions of torture, psychology, dysfunction yet healthy family relations if you squint.

Show: Wednesday (2022)

Summary: You've graciously or stupidly, granted Tyler a phone to call his father for whatever reason he had while you went to call yours for assistance. And since you weren't fully knowledgeable about Hydes, you contacted the only person you knew, who wasn't in prison, that had that knowledge. Your father, Alvin Gates.

• •

🥺 Sorryyyy this took forever a lot of months, planned to post this at February but got sick and many stuff happened, preparing for an interview :--D but am back in my writing mojo!/kinda, HAPPY HALLOWEEN) AND I HEARD season 2 is coming omggg I'm excited

————

"Well, well, well~ If it isn't the sweet consequence of my actions with your mother." A voice unmistakably grouchy speaks, sounding jovial with every word out.

A quick glance to your locked bedroom door before you finally said a response into the cellphone.

"You sound well, father." You mildly greeted, a tinge of a smile in your voice. To think it's almost only been a month since the last call.

"Yeah yeah it's been a while but cut the chitchat, sweetie, what do you need helping with?" You could imagine an eyeroll as your father said, always cutting to the chase.

"About Hydes." You spared no other detail and maintained calm articulation. Not that you needed to be careful with him, thankfully.

For more precaution, it's better if not even your own father knows about Tyler being in the house. You didn't want things to get out of hand.

"Ah- what about them? Did something happen that isn't supposed to–" Suddenly silence overtook the line, a thoughtful humming until he spoke again. "Don't get yourself into any unfamiliar territory, kid. That's suppose to be your mother's speciality."

So he noticed, of course he did. Better leave that to his wandering imagination than spoil your plan. A very non-existent plan at the moment.

"I don't plan to. Father, I was just curious since I kept hearing about them." True, that wasn't a lie in the slightest. "I was wondering if you'd know anything about them."

Surely he must know something.

"Hmm, you heard it from someone, no doubt. . . Alright, alright. What do you want to know exactly, kid. I'll tell ya as much as I can afford to." Sounds like mother has been keeping tabs on him.

"Hydes obey only one master, their own, correct?" You continued when father hummed a helpful tune, "would it be possible to sever the ties between a Hyde and its master."

A pause in-between your father's breathing left you suspended.

"Well. . . Got bad news for you kid, I don't know any available methods for that." He sighed gruffy like he felt bad, "sorry but can't help you with the whole severing business. It's set in stone, pretty much."

"I see. . . " You massaged your temples, disappoinment rising inside you. But you couldn't just accept this answer easily, stubbornness seemed to take hold in your heart. For what reason? You couldn't figure out.

"However–" A hoarse chuckle emerged from your cellphone. "It's not entirely impossible to say there aren't other ways of solving that problem. I'm sure you can get some creative ideas from their origins, kid. Only one thing is set in stone, Hydes only serve one master."

Father's bold hint sparked a lightbulb in your head. Their origins.

In the first place, what caused Hydes to bond an undying loyalty to their masters was–

"Sorry for not being alot of help, kid, I'm out of time for the day. Take good care of yourself, will you."

"I will." A buzz of excitement slowly crept over you as an idea began running through your mind. "You were very helpful, dad, thanks. You take care too."

"Mm sounds like you found an answer eh?" He sounded genuinely happy, making you feel much more sturdy in this new plan.

"Not exactly but I should be on the right track." If Tyler would go along with it.

"Mm so you're going to try any attempts, I see. Hah– it's hilarious how similar you and your mother's thinking is!"

Again with the comparisons. You rolled your eyes, "Goodbye, father."

"Alright alright, see ya kiddo. For now." BEEP. BEEP.

The call was over already.

.  .  .

You turned off the burner phone, picking out the block of battery from the back and saving it in your other hiding space for another time. Now you should check on Tyler, you can't afford to trust him so easily especially when his father's a sheriff. 

Quietly you went out of your bedroom, closing the door slowly so as to not make a sound. You headed down the stairs in a casual, fast pace to quickly see his state of mind.

But it's likely he isn't planning to screw himself over... Your assumption was most likely made correct when you came to see Tyler sitting slumped on the couch, his face buried deep in his hands. 

Sweeping your gaze across the living room and floor, the burner phone you gave him was nowhere in sight… Mentally noting to check the trash bin by the kitchen before you stomped down the stairs and made yourself known.

Tyler's eyes peeked up first from the gaps in-between his fingers like the leafy venus flytraps back home ever so often tempting you to closer inspect. To place your finger in there, to feed. 

He waited on your next move.

Your arms folded, hiding your hands twitching on their own for a tweezer. "Did you have a good talk?" 

What else could you really say without sounding too interested in him. 

"It was something…" Tyler did a small shrug, less energy than he's shown before, voice dulled by the cover of his fingers. "Could've gone better. I wish he didn't hang up so fast."

"What did you talk about?" Might as well see how much information he was willing to give.

A small sigh, Tyler slowly revealed half of his distraught face. "Not a lot. He wasn't interested in what I had to say… Told me to be careful." Strange of the dutiful sheriff to say but then again you didn't know what kind of father-son relationship they had.

"How are you feeling?" One of mother's favourite lines growing up that you've somehow adapted into your vocabulary. It seemed the most appropriate.

You continued watching Tyler's tensed form with a safe but short distance away, the coffee table acting as a possible shield in between you and him. Incase he raged.

But there was none.

There was something in his usual silence this time that irked you. Like he didn't fully trust you. 

You approved of that, as he shouldn't. Mutually. Especially if things ever go wrong because of him, you were ready at a moment's notice to abandon everything to do with him. 

"I… Hate him." 

The pause went on for however many tensed seconds before Tyler's hands fell onto his knees.

"Sorry sorry, I know I shouldn't be saying this… I mean I can't say I don't miss him." 

"You can say what you want. I don't mind," you said flatly, genuinely meaning it. His expressions stiff, he looked mentally pent up, thoughts practically steaming out from his ears.

"No, it's fine. You've done a lot for me already, I owe you." He grinned brightly, the dark cloud looming over from before gone in an instant, "for that phone call too."

"Sure," it wouldn't be bad to have a Hyde indebted to you.

Tyler checked the ticking clock on the kitchen wall, "I guess it is getting late… See you in the morning?"

You nodded. "Night, Galpin." 

"G-Good night! Have a good sleep." He smiled dopey, waving briskly while walking backwards to the foot of the stairs before jogging up to his bedroom. So naturally at home.

Just how eager was he to get back in his room?

 That wasn't his usual way of walking, what could he be looking forward to or hiding in there… Or he could just be relieved of stress after that talk with his father, maybe that brought about his new behavior.

Your suspicions were beginning to sound far-fetched even to yourself but then again, there was always that silver of possibility that he could be planning to rebel against you. 

So you moved fast towards the kitchen sink, tiny spikes of uneasiness pulsing through you, turning the facuet on and letting the water run loudly as you went to look into the trash bin.

Expecting to look down into a void of nothingness.

The large black plastic bag sleeved over the edge of the bin looked loose and puffy. Clearly you didn't do this, your meticulousness wouldn't allow such a lazy set up. You pat down the puffy areas, flattening the edges to allow better access in seeing what trash had been collected.

Shiny peices of black metal greet you at the bottom of the pit, tiny and almost powder-like glitter in the kitchen light. What previously used to be a burner phone now looked like the result of being in someone's clenched fist. Useful monsterous strength… if he could actually get it under his full control.

Whatever anxiety crept inside your heart disappeared as you contently spun on your heel and turned off the kitchen faucet. 

A small appreciation for Tyler as thanks to him, there's less work for you now.

You wondered why you even felt 'anxious' at all, it must've been the slight stress of knowing he could've screwed things up for you. And himself. Now that makes sense, of course since it's not as if you actually knew him personally even back in town. 

Feeling much more at peace, you headed towards your own bedroom, adjacent from Tyler's. His room barely made any noise except for the few inaudible mumbles and the faint use of his shower and the light peeking through from underneath his door. 

You never noticed before but he always had the lights turned on in there. Well, it's not as if you were the one paying the electrical bill. It was nothing noteworthy.

Once settling in your own bed and underneath your blanket in the cozy dark, sleep came easily… Until your brain jostled an interesting observation your very eyes must've slipped. 

In the trash bin, there was no sight of the small black piece. The memory card. 

The sim card. 

Despite his questionable actions, you chose to sleep, thoughts racing alongside a strange excitement building up in you. 

Oh what are you up to, Tyler Galpin.

Time was ticking. Neither on his or your side. He just didn't know it yet.

In the following morning you received a misscall from an unknown number. Father. He never contacts you first. There's nothing he needs that you could provide. It must be about the Hyde. 

Finally.

[turtles-invoked]

I keep thinking about different ways Cas could potentially escape the empty and find his way back to Sam and Dean.

The scenario that sticks out the most to me is that Sam and Dean would be driving along the highway, dead silence, after finishing a case that Sam dragged Dean along too but then got mad at him when Dean nearly kills himself going into the fight alone.

So they’re driving along, Dean’s face stone cold, Sam pouty and angry at Dean when Cas just appears at the side of the road.

No big deal. Dean’s been seeing Cas a lot lately. More so during exhaustion.

Sam bolts upright and looks in the rear but Dean keeps driving.

“Dean!” He shouts when Cas appears again, nearly hit in the process and this time Dean slams on the breaks because ‘Sam can see him too?’

They barely pull over before Sam springs out of the car, angel blade aimed and ready, Dean’s gun locked and loaded despite potentially being useless.

“What are you!” Dean yells at him

“It’s me, I’m… me…” Cas would say weakly, voice strained, hands up surrenderring.

“Yeah right,” Dean says and shoots the ground next to him as a warning, “start talking!”

Cas’s eyes open wide and panic floods his face.

“Dean, maybe it-”

“Cas is dead, Sam!” Dean interrupts.

Sam goes to the trunk and opens the duffle, grabs the flask of holy water and a silver knife.

Gun still aimed at Cas’s face, Sam walks up to him and splashes him with the water. Cas holds out his arm to allow Sam to cut him with the silver. Cas then drops his angel blade and cuts along right next to it, small blue electric beads of grace glistening at the opening before sewing the skin back together.

Dean swallows, hope weighing the pit in his gut down.

“He checks out,” Sam says stowing his angel blade away.

“How did you get out?” Dean questions, still defensive, still in disbelief.

Cas’s deep blue eyes bite into Dean’s soul “I honestly, I have no idea. I woke up on a shore in Brazil. I had my grace, my wings, but my geographical locationing was… off…”

“… and you’re warded against me, that’s why it took so long to find you… the both of you…”

Dean swallows, as Sam embraces Cas, welcoming him back, exclaiming how happy he is to see him but Dean still isn’t sure.

“Dude, what more do you want?” Sam says stepping aside.

“You’re buying this? The empty spat him out somewhere exotic and he just happened to get lost finding his way back, I’m sorry, but I’m not,” Dean says, not allowing himself to believe that Cas really is here and in front of him, mojo and everything, “Remember what Billie told you? No one comes back from the empty!”

“I remember everything…” Cas starts slowly.

Deans breath catches in his chest.

“The empty, our fight… our- our goodbye. I remember it all. Every word,” he says.

‘I love you’ Casteil’s voice plays rewind inside Dean’s mind. He remembers every word, every micro expression, every feeling as the words were said to him. He’s replayed them every day since he’s been gone.

Deans eyes sting with unshed tears instantly, a lump in his throat. His mouth opens and closes a few times, mind racing, body tingling. He swallows the emotion building up in his throat and frowns.

Cas starts to walk towards him but his holds the gun firmer in his grip.

“You really did change me, Dean. For the better. I thought about you… and-and Sam, every day. I, quite literally, fell in love with you. And whether you feel the same or not, I still mean it,” he finishes.

And that’s all Dean needs to flick the gun on safety, shove it in his waistband and storm over to cas, pulling him into a bone crushing hug, allowing the tears to silently roll down his cheeks.

He holds Cas, allowing himself to breathe and hope, and feel Cas in his arms, ‘he’s back’.

But his then he moves into the anger and it gets the better of him. He lets go of their embrace and grabs Cas by the lapels of his trench coat and shoves him without letting go, because he doesn’t think he could ever let go despite how angry and upset he is now.

“How stupid are you!” He yells and shoves him again, still holding on, scared to lose him again.

“You don’t just say crap like that and then-and then leave,” he shoves him a third time.

“You needed to know,” Cas says, letting Dean push him around, “I needed you to know,” he corrects himself, eyes never leaving Dean’s own.

“I-” Dean starts, but he chokes on his words. Can’t quite get those last three out, “I-” he tries again but something deep in his chest won’t let him say want he wants nothing more than to.

But Cas gives him a knowing smile, “I know,” he says gently.

Dean starts to feel overwhelmed. Still angry and upset, but warm and tingly and that hopefully flutter is back in his stomach. He stares at Cas’s sympathetic smile and his heart pounds hard behind his ribs.

Dean pulls Cas into him and their bodies crash together and he kisses him, hard, short, and sweet. Cas’s arms wrap around him, holding him flush against him and Dean swears he sighs into the kiss.

Sam clears his throat behind them and chuckles and suddenly Dean is very aware of Cas’ hands on his waist.

They pull away, Cas is practically beaming, in fact he is glowing ever so slightly, eyes shining brighter than normal.

“You okay, Cas?” Sam asks nervously.

Dean takes a step back as Cas starts to vibrate ever so slightly, a soft high pitched whine radiating off of Cas.

“It’s just… m-my grace,” he stutters and squeezes his eyes closed.

Cas takes a couple of deep breaths, his fists clenched at his sides and within a few seconds the aura around him dims and the whine silences.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asks concerned.

Cas blushes, “sorry… I was… overwhelmed…”

Sam chuckles behind him and Dean turns around to glare at him.

“Are you alright?” He asks not moving closer.

Cas nods, “very much so,” Cas says genuinely and now it’s Dean’s turn to blush.

Sam chuckles again and claps Dean on the shoulder, “let’s go home.”

Dean watches Sam walk to the drivers side but get into the back of the car.

Cas smiles at Dean and they slide in too, Cas in shotgun and they head home. And if Dean’s hand rested on Cas’ thigh the whole way there, well, he needed the physical reminder that Cas was back and sitting next to him.

I dunno it’s just a thought I keep having. I Love the idea of Cas losing control of his grace / powers when Dean shows affection towards him. I also haven’t seen the later seasons I’m up to season 11 episode 6 or 7 I’m getting there though just very slowly 😅

[lumber]

Hey to my 1 dedicated fan/follower/friend- I'm not sure if you've noticed (or not), but I haven't posted ANY new artwork in a good while. I appreciate that you've been liking/looking at/enjoying my old stuff I've been posting lately... What's that they say? About everything old is new to somebody? 🤔 So thank you. Truth is, I think I've been feeling a bit depressed lately? I haven't been able to pick up my blessed pencils/pens and put line to my beloved sketchbook for weeks/months now, so when I do- it feels like climbing a mountain. I began feverishly working on a new Dingbert & Lemmy 8 pager minicomic just to have "something" to pass out at this year's San Diego Comic Con and not feel like a loser- and don't get me wrong, the chicken scratch page thumbnails are coming out top-notch!!! But I just... Stopped. I stopped because I didn't want to rush the project. I stopped because I realized that it's ok to not have anything to pass out, and that I won't be a loser for doing so. That I can just attend SDCC as an attendee just for the pure sake of the experience, and bask in it. To just be in the moment with Xaviera/@xavisaurus and enjoy. I think this 8 pager DB & Lem minicomic is going to be bigger than just a rush job and some of my recent funniest and best cartooning/story work to date. These lovable asshole Cat and Mouse characters are truly helping get my cartooning mojo back, and for that I'm forever grateful to them. Heck yeah! I think I may need some help and run a GoFundMe to help print up the minis after SDCC, and get it done slowly, correctly, and right. Slow and steady wins the race. The assholes (and me) are back, baby! Bloob!!! ❤️

[andithiel]

End of year wrap up

I am so super late to this, but I’ve done this in the last few years and I think it’s a nice tradition to look back at the accomplishments I’ve achieved. 2022 was a very bleak year writing wise, and I’m happy to say that I’ve slowly started to get my mojo back a bit. My AO3 wordcount for 2023 was 36,936 words, but I’ve also posted some shorter things on tumblr, and I actually made a spreadsheet to track my progress and tally all my written words, including those that get deleted and also those not yet posted, and according to the spreadsheet I wrote 10k more. I still have a lot of WIPs hanging around in my drive, but I’ve managed to finish some of them, and I feel like I have more energy and excitement to finish some more, so, here’s hoping that 2024 will be the year that I actually end up with fewer WIPs at the end than at the beginning (something I tried back in 2020, before the world went up in flames).

Under the cut is what I published in 2023:

January 

Fading in Love (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 5k) I wrote this as a belated birthday present for @sassy-sassy3, it’s an 8th year secret relationship with a lil’ sprinkle of magical theory regarding the Dark Mark. 

February 

I decided to try a few prompts for HD Candyhearts and ended up having a lot of fun with them: 

Second Date AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 1,3k) with an insecure Draco after having spent the night with Harry.

The microfic Taste the love (for the prompt Sweet treats)

How deep is our love? AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 762 words) featuring established Drarry bickering and absolutely ridiculous Valentine’s cards.

The secret language of flowers AO3 tumblr (Drarry, Teen, 2k) featuring the classic tumblr post the fuck you bouquet.

Pillow microfic with Draco being a little shit

Charm me 8th year drabble FWB/secret relationship sort of vibes.

March

Take that ride (Drarry, Teen, 1,6k) I finally managed to write a fic idea that’s been scrambling around in my brain for ages. I wanted to create a mood and a feeling with this and I’m so happy with how it turned out.

I also wrote a short fuck or die drabble that I’m super proud of: Let me show you  

June

Hold back the tide (Drarry, Teen, 2k) Another idea that’s been with me for years that I finally got out (despite not having written the fic that preludes this).

October

Thunderstruck (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) My god, my beast, this fic resisted me and to top it all off I got covid right when I was about to finish it. I struggled with this so damn much, also wanting to create a vividness that doesn’t really come natural to me, but I’m so happy with how it came out in the end. Plus I got to collab with the amazing @fictional who, as usual, knocked it out of the park with her glorious art.

November

The Potter Malfoy bathroom war of 2007 (locked to logged in users) (Drarry, Explicit, 8k) Another fic that’s been with me for some time, although “only” a year. I saw the prompt for last year’s Suds when claims had closed, so I tried to forget about it but it wouldn’t leave me. I had so much fun writing this, I love writing Harry and Draco bickering and fighting with each other when we as readers know it’s basically their form of foreplay. 

December

When it’s exactly twelve o’clock that night (Drarry, Teen, 6k) This was also a fic one year in the making. I started writing it to post on last New Year’s Eve, but I couldn’t finish it in five days (to my own astonishment), but I’m happy it got to marinate for a while because I added a scene with Scorpius that I’m very fond of.

I wasn't tagged by anyone and I'm sure people have already done this, but if this means you get another tag, consider pointing me to your own year wrap up so I can see it! @sassy-sassy3 @fictional @mystickitten42 @uncannycerulean @goblinmatriarch @phdmama @crazybutgood @dragonbornphoenix @wo2ash @rei382 @nv-md

[peachonified]

I still don't have my mojo back.

arts, crafts, writing... they are all very much on the back burner. Although I am going to try and make tomorrow a writing day (I think I need to write the next chapter of Mating Flight, but also I need to write some Kise, cos my boy ain't getting enough love).

That being said, I have been cooking. I have tried many new things - mainly muffins.

Banana muffins, apple muffins, pear muffins. There are pineapple muffins in the over right now.

And a few dinners - I made carrot and feta fritters today, spaghetti with garlic prawns in a garlic cream sauce last night, and cauliflower burrito bowls earlier this week. All new things!

Tomorrow, as well as writing, I am trying to keep the To Do list manageable

wash the dogs

put together the kitchen trolley we ordered

make some cornbread muffins

make some spinach and feta muffins

write and post something!

So there is my Sunday to do list! it feels... doable. Putting together the bench might be a nightmare but *fingers crossed* it gives us more usable bench and storage space.

*ahem* point being - the ability to do more than exist is slowly coming back and it's currently delicious. Hopefully soon it will be in form of words and art!

[jinmukangwrites]

a place to call home

Fandom: Jedi Fallen Order / Survivor Rating: G Warnings: N/A Ao3 Notes: My older sister was playing Black Thunder (by Bad Wolves, Serj Tankian, and The Hu) and it took all my will power to not info dump about Jedi Fallen Order. I was very brave about it. Instead I wrote 2.6k word one-shot. I'm still so glad they brought The Hu back for more music in Survivor.

Summary: Pyloon's Saloon was named after his great-grandma; naturally, it was always a place meant for his family. Took Cal long enough to visit, but that's alright. He's not even that upset it took breaking the Mantis to get him here.

~~~°~~~

The saloon wasn't everything Greez had ever wanted, but it's his, and dammit if he won't make it everything he's ever wanted.

For now, it's incredibly shabby. Run down. The floorboards creak and there's some kind of mold on the walls. The furniture would have to be thrown out and replaced with things that are less stained and more inviting to use. He's pretty sure the booth chairs have blood stains on them, and vomit. The previous owner really didn't care about making the place homely, which is probably why no one was there to stop them from catching blaster-to-face disease.

The upholstery isn't even patolli-weave.

There are plenty of things that need repair. The upholstery for one, but the railing Monk uses to get around has a dent further down that prevents him from getting to the end of the battered bar, the walls need repainted, the doors leading upstairs are broken and the basement is covered in junk. That's not even the half of it. It's daunting.

Greez is so excited.

Well, the only thing he can do is start.

It's slow progress, but progress is progress no matter how small. He starts with the most essential stuff, only using Cere's money where he absolutely needs to. He'd like to save the majority of that for the actual food and beverages. Everything else? Well, he could fix the Stinger Mantis despite how many times Cal seemed determined to launch it into any imperial fleet he saw. He could keep the ship running after all that, how hard would a few automatic doors, the fish tank, and a music box be?

He could fix those on his own.

He works, and he works, every day until eventually he's able to actually serve customers. Doma comes in first, Turgle at her heels, but it's more pleasantries than anything. She's sober, most alcohols don't agree with her and she doesn't think they ever will, but she does try some food while Turgle chatters both their ears off after one drink. Doma hardly ever visits again unless she makes a particularly good profit at her store and wishes to treat herself to his food. Turgle comes all the time, which worries Greez at first because he talks to anyone else who enters; mostly one-time patron prospectors. One-time is a loose word, most of these prospectors end up dead looking for things they probably shouldn't.

Though, slowly, Greez gets more regular that Turgle doesn't chase away. Sparse, but there. He even, to his disdain, gets visits from the local gang. Those Bedlam Raiders give him bad mojo, but as long as they're not challenged they don't do anything besides antagonize a little.

It's good.

Greez misses Cere, he wishes she'd visit, but they at least talk whenever they're both free. Merrin visits whenever she passes by, as rarely as that is, which he appreciates; he's long since admitted he adores her even if she's a spooky witch that there's a slight possibility she's waiting for the perfect opportunity to jump him and blood sacrifice him. And Cal...

Cal.

It's impossible to not care for the kid, even though he hardly ever responds to his messages. He's busy with other people, fighting the good fight, probably scratching the Mantis to shreds. Cal's angry with him, Greez knows this. After Cere and Merrin left, it was only the two of them. Three, including BD-1. But two, because BD-1 and Cal were practically the same entity anyways. Greez knew that him leaving had hurt Cal, but... Greez just couldn't fly anymore. He couldn't handle that danger that Cal chased. For the first time in Greez's life, he wanted to land and live calmly. He's had enough of space, enough of the Empire.

So no, Cal hardly talks, nor does he visit, but Greez does his best to keep the kid in mind anyways. Cal can't stay away forever. Someday, he's going to break the Mantis just right and come back with his tail between his legs because he only knows how to take apart starships, not fix them. Greez did his best to teach him to fix some basic stuff, but Cal ripped out the broken bits so roughly that Greez nearly had an aneurysm. He ended up having to replace some wiring Cal had thought was "useless". Yeah, useless to resell. Expensive to replace new. Didn't teach him that in scrapper school.

Greez hopes Cal wrecks the Mantis soon. It's been too long. He even misses that little droid and how he always seems to purposely be underfoot while Greez cooked.

He misses Cal so bad that he almost begins to subconsciously fix things up in the saloon with Cal in mind. He keeps all of them in mind, of course, he named the place after his great-grandma this place is meant for family, but Cal's the only one who still seems lost in life, who's scrambling through the Galaxy trying to find footing but not really knowing what he wants. It's an easy decision to make the basement for Cal. Kid needs a home, and Greez will make sure there's always one waiting for him when he needs it.

"It's not the best, but it'll do until I find you something better," Doma says, one day, months into Greez's stay. He's become good friends with Doma, she's probably the only one who truly understands leaving the fast life because it became too much.

Greez holds a small jukebox in his lower pair of hands, looking it over and wondering slightly how she had gotten her hands on it. It's dingy. Battered. Probably isn't too loud. But he trusts Doma when it comes to this stuff, she doesn't skip out on him, she always does the best she can. She's the one who got him all the Patolli-weave in the first place. If this small jukebox is the best she can do, then he's happy. It's better than nothing. It's not like he can afford a live band like all the big cantina's have in more trafficked corners of the Galaxy, let alone pay live performers. So, something small that can probably only be heard when you're a good few meters within its range is something he can accept compared to the sad silence.

"It's radio is broken," Doma says, though she laughs, "not like that matters. The Koboh-abyss blocks most of the good channels. There's some tracks in there though, and I can always see if I can keep an eye out for more music if you want anything different. I tried to put things on there that would fit the atmosphere of Pyloon's."

Greez opens the compartment of the music box and sure enough, there's an old cartridge-like device with a frugal list of songs. He doesn't recognize any of the songs, let alone the artists, but once again, he trusts Doma.

"How much do I owe ya?" He asks. Doma gives him a price. It's a little high in his opinion, but she's a business woman and not one to make discounts even for friends. He happily hands over the credits, then shuts the compartment. Before he leaves, however, a thought crosses his mind.

"Hey," he asks, "have you heard of The Agasar?"

-o-o-o-o-

Just like Greez hoped, Cal eventually breaks the Mantis enough to seek him out. It's great to see the kid, but it's so unexpected it hardly registered even after saying hi to BD-1.

The kid looks like he's barely been sleeping, let alone eating, though he at least looks like he's gotten plenty of sun. There's freckles everywhere, way more than what he had after Greez first nabbed him off that sunless sopping-wet rock Bracca.

Luckily, the food and sleep problem is exactly what Greez was expecting.

He's careful to not baby Cal too much, not when Cal's clearly hurting about something. It probably took a lot of convincing on BD's part to get Cal over here and Greez knows that topics like "settle down" "live your own life" and "pack away the lightsaber for a little bit" will only start arguments. Cal's at a point in his life where he doesn't yet see that he has value beyond being a weapon, but Greez is hoping that the right pushes here and there will get him there.

For now, he introduces Cal to his room. It's chock full of things that used to belong to Cal and things Greez plans on giving to Cal. There's nothing else to call it besides his room. Cal seems shocked by the space so clearly set aside and prepared for him, and his face softens into a hurt kind of touched that Greez knows means he appreciates the room a lot but doesn't think he can accept it.

Give it time, Greez.

Honestly it's a miracle Cal managed to sleep at all. The bed must have been comfy because when Greez goes down the next morning to check on him, he's out like a light. Doesn't shift at all, not even a roll of movement behind his eyelids. BD-1 charges silently besides him, looking all content and almost cute. Greez can't help but watch the two of them for a moment, drinking in the peace, wishing Cal could feel like he deserves a little of it.

And sure, the morning starts with a bit of an argument, one that Greez has to end up dropping when Cal goes silent, signaling the conversation is over. He wishes he can shake sense into him, show him that he doesn't need to hold the line all the time. But for now, he can at least make sure Cal knows that Greez has a place for him. A home.

"And Greez... I'll think about what you said."

That's all he can ask for.

And it's somehow not a surprise that Cal comes back a few hours later through the front door looking all dusty and giddy. Greez had been busy trying to turn away some guy with more muscle in one pectoral than what Greez had on his entire body, but Cal quickly introduces Bode as a friend.

Cal also introduces Zee, an ancient Jedi droid, raving about old prospector legends; the treasure planet of Tanalorr. Whatever exhaustion and sadness weighed Cal down this morning has lifted with the breath of adventure, and Greez isn't about to turn him away from it.

However, when Greez offers to fix the Mantis while Cal goes out to check out the forest array, he has to stop the kid from leaving right out the door not three minutes after walking in it.

"Hold on," Greez says, stopping Cal in his tracks. "Have you even eaten anything since arriving?"

Cal pauses, and Greez knows the answer. Greez brushes his hands on his clothes and starts heading to the kitchen. "Grab some seat."

"Greez," Cal halfheartedly argues, slumping down at the bar while that Bode guy chuckles and sits down the next stool over.

"The array's already waited a few hundred years, what's a couple more hours?" Greez asks, looking for his mitts. It's been awhile since he's cooked anything himself, the saloon has a set menu and he's already shown Monk how to cook all those things. "Monk's fixing up Zee, let me fix up you."

He hears Cal chuckle, he says something to Bode, but Greez can't hear because he's officially in the kitchen and turning on the stoves. 

"Oh—krif-" he stumbles, barely managing to stop himself from dropping his nice glass pan while BD-1 boops happily and skitters out of the kitchen. Greez shakes his head. 

He makes an old casserole recipe that his great grandma got from her great grandpa. He has to replace some of the ingredients with other things, as Lateron spices are both hard to get his two pairs of hands on and also sometimes poisonous to human stomachs. He wouldn't want to poison Cal on day two of him finally visiting.

Now that's a thought, he could mildly poison Cal and force him to get some more sleep. He chuckles to himself, he'd never do that.

He brings the casserole out a good hour later, finding Cal lazily slumped over the bar, his finger tracing the rim of a cup. Monk must have visited for a moment between working on repairing Zee, Greez hopes he didn't give the kid anything too strong. Bode is nowhere to be seen, but once Cal notices him arriving he perks up and explains Bode went to the restroom.

That might keep the man busy for a while, Greez thinks happily, the toilet always clogs and Bode seems like the kind of guy who would rather suffer trying to unclog a public toilet instead of walking out and pretending he didn't do it.

He gives Cal a larger portion than what's a normal serving size, and Cal eagerly digs in, closing his eyes in satisfaction after the first bite. "Spirits, I missed your cooking, Greezy money."

Greez chuckles then gives himself a serving, then hops onto his specially made chair. They eat in comfortable silence for a while. Cal seems content, lazy, and eager all at the same time. Sure, the kid thinks he can't stay in one place for long, but now he has something to do here. Greez can't help but be thankful for Zee, more thankful than he's been for any droid in his entire life. He'll be seeing more of Cal for a little while longer.

Before Cal finishes his helping, he pauses, his eyebrows coming together as he chews slowly. Concerned, Greez looks at him, wondering if he accidentally burned some vegetables or something, but Cal swallows and looks at Greez with wide eyes.

"Is that... The Agasar?"

Greez listens, and sure enough, Eseerin Vasahina plays softly in the distance where Greez's old jukebox sits. Cal stands and follows the sound of the music towards the beat down stage. After a second, Greez follows. Cal has this dumb grin on his face, his eyes are closed and his head bops slightly to the thundering drums and screeching violins.

"I thought you didn't like The Agasar," Cal says after a second, opening his eyes to look down at Greez. Stars, the kid is practically beaming.

And yeah, Greez doesn't really care for their music, they're loud and whenever Cal tried to play their music over the Mantis speakers, it always ended up giving Greez a headache.

Greez folds both pairs of arms, trying to not look as proud of himself as he feels. "I'm surprised you don't like them too, considering Sorc Tormo tried to have you mauled to death to the tune of one of their songs."

Cal's grin widens. "Greez, if I had to die to the tune of a song, I would love it to be Sugaan Essana."

"Morbid," Greez says, and Cal laughs.

Greez watches as Cal returns to appreciating the music, something warm settling somewhere in his stomach. Cal may think he can't have a place to call home, but dammit if Greez won't pound into his head that the saloon, at the least, could be. Maybe this mission for Tanalorr will keep Cal around long enough to see that.

For now, Greez will just support Cal where he can. Food, Mantis repairs, a bedroom, and some music.

As Cal uses the back door to leave the saloon while Greez goes with Bode to lock up the front doors, he finds himself content with just that much. Cal probably has no plans to stick around longer than what this Tanalorr mission would allow, but man it's good to have him around even for that long.

He's a good kid, and Greez will cherish his presence while he has it, and make sure Cal understands that here, at Pyloon's Saloon, he will always have a place to return to.

[trappedtowers]

Trapped Towers Dev History ~ How We Got Here (Final Part)

(Middle art piece done by @/evilredyoshis)

CORRECTION FOR PART 2: THE TRAPPED TOWERS REBOOT ANNIVERSARY IS IN MAY. I THOUGHT IT WAS JUNE. NO IT IS MAY 15TH. I GASLIT MYSELF FOR OVER A YEAR WHAT.

Hey again everybody !!

So we reached the beginning of the current stage of Trapped Towers last time, the official beginning to the reboot in May 2021. This final part will cover a bit less I do think, mainly because a lot of the old/scrapped content I think I'd like to go a bit more in-depth with in seperate posts. However, there's still stuff to go through. It's gonna be a lot less story of Trapped Towers and a bit more sappy emotional though, hope you all don't mind.

So, for the final time in this mini series - lets hope into it shall we?

May 2021 - Present ~ The New Trapped Towers:

I will always remember those first few months of the new TeamT VERY VERY fondly. It wasn't perfect, we weren't all fully motivated, but we sure were making progress slowly. TeamT was always very chaotic - and sure some of it hasn't aged great and isn't the best to look at, I should have cut some stuff instantly and cut ties with others quick - but nights like staying in voice call with some of the best team members I could have asked for just screwing about, playing video games and screensharing it in about the worst way, and coming up with some amazing ideas for the project. I'll remember those fondly.

Stuff like this is what makes projects like this worth it. The memories and friends - as corny as that is.

But hey, you're here for the story, not for the sappy "the real trapped towers was the friends we made along the way" schpiel. So, what happened in the months from the Trapped Towers reboot beginning? Well, we worked. We made songs. We made new concepts, new art, and more. The story I'd written made - and I won't say who and if they out themselves AGAIN it's their own fault - made somebody CRY. Have you ever made somebody cry from a story you've written. The initial thoughts is "oh no they're crying, that's sad I didn't wanna make them sad" but very quickly the giddyness hits.

Emotional aspects of storytelling are one of the things I've been wanting to hit for ages. To have somebody connect to a character and their story to a point where it brings genuine emotion - it's the best. Not only for the reader's attatchment and immersion, but to you. To know you managed to create a story that compelling that it caused that. I won't drag this out much longer, but it's really something I'm aiming for with Trapped Towers and I do hope to get you all with some of these plot points.

Back to the timeline though, things began to slow further around November, with most things basically halting in December - though shoutout to the artists and musicians who carried us that whole time. January was a break month, February we hoped to be back in action but things didn't quite resume for a while. April picked it up a little more, with new art and concepts and writing happening, but not much else.

It's not a satisfying end to this story is it. We just kind of... died off.

But it's not the end, is it?

This was something I said in the team general channel in February 2022 and I still hold by it to this day. Trapped Towers has been a major part of my life since the day it was first made, and it always will be. I'm forever grateful for how things have turned out, even if it feels like the project never gets anywhere.

So until the day comes where I can release this, I'll keep posting, writing etc. I will keep working until it happens no matter how long it'll take. That's the end of the timeline and sappy stuff for now though. Lets go through some content.

Content Highlights:

(TO NOTE A LOT OF OLD CONTENT IS MADE BY VARIOUS OLD TEAM MEMBERS AS WELL AS MYSELF. @/evilredyoshis like usual, JackInASack who I believe does not have tumblr, Mojo, StellarDee, and many many more names I wish I could list. A full Trapped Towers credits list will happen one day, every name who was involved will be respected and honoured <3)

Y'know instead of "old content" this time, we've got highlights instead. Some of it will be old yes, but there's too much overlap with yesterday for me to just show old content because then there'd be barely anything.

MOST RECENT TRAPPED TOWERS SOUNDTRACK

ALSO TWO WHOLE DEVLOGS YOU CAN LOOK AT !!

AND THE SECOND ONE !!

Y'know I put that a lot of this was made by old team members, and yeah especially in the soundtrack more people appear but a lot of this art is done by Madeline PFFTT. Shoutout to her once again @/evilredyoshis she was actually the goat of TeamT. Did so so much.

There's SO SO much content I could share here and I would love to share it ALL. Unfortunately I don't want to ram this post with too much. If we do get a game out of this, I'll be sure to include a gallery with EVERYTHING.

There's also a lot of great animatics done. You can guess who by at this point. I have already got permission from her to use her old work for all these posts, so I'll likely do a post dedicated to the relevant/appropriate ones and explaining a bit behind them.

But seriously to end this off, I just want to say again how grateful I am for everyone and everything that has happened to Trapped Towers in these past 6 years. To anyone who sees this if you were a part of TeamT, still (technically) are a part of it despite how nobody is really doing anything besides me lol, or if you've just been following the project. Thank you. Thank you so much.

That's all from me. I'll speak to you all again soon.

- JustDaniel

[misscrawfords]

Hello, end of the year ask 4, 19 and 22, please. Best wishes for next year and I hope you had a good holiday!

Thank you and the same to you! :)

4. Movie of the year?

I watched some great films this year. I think it's got to be a toss-up between Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning which was just A Very Good Time With Hayley Atwell and kicked off a summer of watching all the MI films or Wonka that I saw with Year 7 and was just utterly charming. I went in with no expectations but was blown away - it was just delightful!

19. What’re you excited about for next year?

A lot of things! Mainly because after several years of stess and anxiety and feeling like there was nothing in my future which was really caused by my father's illness, I am slowly getting my mojo back and starting to look towards the future more. I'm looking forward to feeling my way hopefully to some big decisions about what I want my future to look like; it's nerve-wracking but it's time. I want change and I think it's coming in 2024. I'm being gentle with myself because, y'know, ~2023, but I am in such a better place mentally to start this process of discovery. More prosaically, I'm looking forward to travelling with my mum in the Easter holidays. She hasn't been abroad in years and I'm going to plan a trip with her, probably to France but maybe Italy. I'm excited about spending time with my wonderful friends and planning things with them. I'm just - glad I've got things to look forward to.

22. Favorite place you visited this year?

Big year for European travel actually. I think my favourite place was Krakow. I absolutely fell in love with the city - never been to Poland before. It was so clean and safe and pleasant to exist it. I could see myself living there easily. Moreover, I really connected with my Jewish ancestry in the Kazimierz (Jewish quarter) and while I wouldn't say I enjoyed visiting Auschwitz, I think it was an important thing to do and I learned a lot. And I got to meet @fradine which was awesome!

End of year asks

[lifeinahole27]

I promise I'm alive

Eventually, I'm gonna sit down and write out where I've been for the last six months. I owe a huge apology to @grimmswan for never finishing her Christmas fic, first and foremost. And mostly I just wanted to let everyone know I'm still around. Here's the Sparknotes:

Last June, I got passed over for a promotion to AGM at the hotel I was working at. I was promoted instead to "Front Office Manager" and finally got to move to a daytime schedule after we found a new auditor to replace me.

On September 1, I had to fire my first employee ever - that same auditor that I was so excited to replace me - and so that was a fun experience. It meant that I was back to splitting audit duties with the other guy.

We tried to get one of the other desk agents to learn audit. The first attempt did not go well. He was supposed to cover during the weekend of my brother's wedding when I was off work and I genuinely don't remember how we worked the schedule for that now, but I know it was tenuous for a minute.

That same guy that didn't do well on the audit quit via text message the week of Thanksgiving, when the General Manager was on vacation, essentially fucking the rest of us for the rest of the week. He was my best friend at the job. I have not spoken to him since.

At Christmastime, the AGM essentially yelled at me as if I was a child for correcting her on something that she was doing improperly. Her mindset was that she had been working (at another property) for 15 years so she knew how to do her job and there's more than 1 way to do something and I needed to accept that. (Fun sidenote: I had been at that property for almost 4 years and she was doing something wrong. That's the fun thing about different properties. What works at one may not work the same at another.)

After that incident, I was job hunting. I finally got to go to a Christmas luncheon at this hotel (I was always working audit in the years before, so I had never gone before) but I was so miserable the entire time I was there but did a great job acting.

I was forced to work until 12:30am on NYE because my manager was convinced it was going to be a busy day. As I had worked NYE twice before and J had worked it once, we knew it was not going to be busy enough for two people. But still I was forced to work the one day I hate working (thanks to SA memories) and that was the final straw for me.

On January 4, I got a call from the company I had applied to at the recommendation of one of my previous GMs from my old hotel. A few days later, I did a pre-interview/info session with the Talent Manager. Two days after that, I did my interview with a group of managers. And on January 10, I handed in my notice to the hotel.

January 30, I left the hotel at 7:15am, no longer employed by it.

On February 6, I flew out to Denver and spent a week with a BFF I made in the CS community. We had a writers' retreat while I housesat for my sister while she was on vacation. I flew home on February 13 and got my company issued computers set up.

I started the new employment on February 14. My entire upstairs is almost completely renovated after three months of working on it after 7 years of depression. I have quit smoking. I am slowly getting my writing mojo back. My GP and therapist are both astonished at how happy I am.

In the months since I left, I have fully realized that I was essentially being abused at my last job. I was just so driven by my goals there that I was willing to excuse all of the bullshit in hopes of making it in my career. I asked for my vacation time a couple months ago and no one guilt-tripped me because I'm going on vacation in June. I told them I would be happy to take my laptop and work while I'm there and they told me to not even think about it. To go have fun and enjoy my vacation.

I don't know what all of this means for my CS writing. I don't know if that will come back. I would like to. I would love to finish some projects that are half-written. I would love to do another year of cards and finish that not-so-secret santa fic for @grimmswan. I just have to be a little more patient with myself and see what happens.

Okay, that wasn't as short as I expected it to be, because I guess it was a lot. Anyway, hi everyone. This is the happiest I've been since 2015. I'm happy to be back. <3

[lavender-long-stories]

Nari's Feral on Display Part 1

spoilers for Lavender Clouds

This is the comment that started it all.

I read this everyonce and while when I need motivation to keep writing or just need my mojo back.

Thank you chaos nugget Nari (should I change your banner from ‘Nari I Blame You’ to ‘Chaos Nugget Nari’??) for reading through my chaotic bull shit idea of Hinata joining the Akatsuki. 

“Hinata was literally living her cotagecore dream, meanwhile Tsunade in her office like "THE FUCK IS SHE DOING WITH ITACHI?"”

I don’t come back to Tsunade’s POV when she finds out about Hinata joining the Akatsuki or is spotted with Itachi, but I am sure there was a scream so loud that birds outside ran away in fear, or maybe she knows about Itachi >.> and she thinks it's good that they two defunct heirs found each other. The true questions is: is Tsunade a Itachi x Hinata shipper? Does she believe the rumor that Hinata married Itachi?? 

Who do you think would have believed it?

“But my girl ended up in Suna, I ended up shipping gaahina”

This story is a roller coaster of the last man Hinata is around is the one I shipper her with the most. Having a cute moment with Gaara being his roommate, quiet moments with Itachi, late night tea with Sasori, mourning with Sasuke, and damn even missions with Kisame. (I need to stopped, some one stop me) 

“Give Gaara more hugs and head pats, the challenge.”

Gaara getting so attached to someone so completely kind to him after years of not letting himself trust people and only really starting to open up with Naruto and his siblings is gut-wrenching and the reason I had to write a GaaHina immediately I needed him to have the love he deserved (and would be able to get in this story)

“She really has a type, huh?”

Hinata’s type is broken and just needs a hug.

“I shit you not, I heard the wedding bells inside my head when Itachi first showed up”

Oh, everyone ships ItaHina soo hard in the beginning. 

“This story made me ship itahina as well”

Soft harem roller coaster XD

“Hinata is literally the only character I can see babying fucking criminals, it was so fucking funny when she was treating Itachi and Kisame (and Deidara, and Hidan) and they didn't want the whole treatment and she was like "I will take care of you whether you want it or not" and pointing the metaphorical knife at them.”

I think that this is what kept writing this fun. Hinata slowly becoming irreplaceable in their lives through forcibly taking care of them.

“"Itachi’s lip quirked up. He thought this was funny. Hinata’s face turned red." Kiss him on the mouth then :D”

Hahahahaha calm down Nari XD

“Overall, cutting your hair can be really freeing... As well as joining a terrorist organization because some handsome stranger smiled at ya, we've all been there, girl.”

Heartbreak? Cut your hair. Run away from home. Join terrorists. Your coping mechanism is valid, queen. XD

Lavender Clouds

Pairing: Sasuke x Hinata Rating: T

Description: Hinata runs away from home into the arms of the Akatsuki. Bonds with Itachi. Saves his brother. Learns to reverse Gentle Fist. Raises a demon baby?

Tags: Adventure  |  Fluff and Angst  |  Romance  |  Slow Burn  |  Happy Ending  |  Akatsuki Hyuuga Hinata  |  Hyuuga Hinata-centric  |  Akatsuki Uchiha Sasuke  |  Canon-Typical Violence

@nikandrros

[lia-jones]

hello once again, lia!

i know it's been quite a while (and honestly i feel a bit bad for leaving you in the dark for so long), but i sort of left tumblr for a while,,,i needed a little break from social media for a bit since i wasn't in the best head space, and recently school started for me again, so things have been quite busy. also, i think you'd be happy to hear that i did really well in the exams i wrote earlier this year!

anyways, how are things with you? i see you haven't posted anything, but since all my exams are done, i finally have time to catch up on your most recent chapters!

i can't wait to hear from you!!! - 🌸 anon

Hello Dear Anon 🌸

It turns out... burnout is a real thing. And it hit pretty bad, along with some other issues from my personal life. I went full-on hermit mode, and writing has been on the back burner.

I'm slowly coming back to my old self, and I have been taking the chapters one by one from my mental shelf. I still don't feel my old writing mojo, but I'll get there. And once I do, I think I will fully return to who I was. Good news though! I was promoted in December and climbed 5 levels on the corporate ladder. This took a huge toll on me, but it was worth it. After that, though, I really could use every second I had to rest.

Andrea and Victor are not forgotten, nor they will be until this story is done. Looking forward to opinions, ideas, best/worst moments, so I get my juices flowing again!

Lots of love to you (and whoever reads this) and I'm sorry for the long absence.

Not dead. :) Definitely back. And hopefully soon some chapters as well.

[dankusner]

Sahara Lounge

Bars of the Year AUSTIN CLUB NAMED ONE OF USA TODAY’S BEST BARS OUR REVIEW

Sahara Lounge, the eclectic East Austin music club, made national news this week, when it joined 26 other bars around the nation on the 2024 USA TODAY Bars of the Year list.

The list was created by USA TODAY Network food writers across the country and includes everything from humble dives to high-end cocktail bars.

“I think what makes it special in some ways is the ghosts that live in the building.

But also just any space that has been a music venue for such a long time starts to have a special mojo in the walls,” said Topaz McGarrigle, who owns the bar with his mother, Eileen Bristol. “I also think that the fact that there’s literally no right angles or straight surfaces makes it sound better.”

What makes Sahara Lounge stand out

Walk into a crowded Sahara Lounge in far East Austin on a Friday night with Prince sliding through the speakers and feel the heat rising off a dancing crowd, while even those in line for cold beers sway.

Come back Saturday and groove to the sounds of Africa Night and then move to the back courtyard with your cooling Sahara Slant cocktail to converse with friends old and new of all ages and colors.

In an Austin that at times feels like it’s slowly falling prey to homogeneity, a night at the Sahara excites like a mirage and then settles in and soothes like a dream.

Maybe because that’s how it started.

Eileen Bristol’s bandmate in Michigan jazz band Zoumountchi, Ibrahim Aminou, called her after the couple had played a show in Ann Arbor with Bristol’s visiting musician son, Topaz McGarrigle.

He had a dream.

They were going to open a jazz lounge in Austin, where Topaz lived.

The trio opened Sahara Lounge on Webberville Road a year later.

The group purchased the bar from Thomas Perkins, who was looking to step away from the bar business after 33 years operating his TC’s Lounge.

Sahara is the definition of ramshackle, its composition the amalgamation of three different buildings.

The roof of the main building constructed in 1962 is at a visible angle, hence the name of the bar’s house cocktail.

The Sahara Slant is made with akpateshi, an herbaceous liquor Niger-native Aminou makes with ingredients he brings back from trips to Africa, spiced rum and ginger beer.

Bright and cutting it is the perfect antidote to Austin’s steamy nights and the heat created in the old building.

Music is naturally an integral part of a bar started by professional musicians.

Bristol and Aminou play in the band Zoumountchi, which performs weekly as part of Africa Nights. McGarrigle, the frontman of psychedelic intergalactic funksters Golden Dawn Arkestra, spins records monthly for Ladies Night.

The calendar also regularly includes one of Austin’s best dance parties, Body Rock ATX, produced by Jonathan “Chaka” Mahone and Ghislaine “Qi Dada” Jean of hip hop group Riders Against the Storm and DJ Chorizo Funk.

If you’re looking for a beer without the the bass threatening to move the balls on the billiards table inside, hit the lounge before the show starts and soak in the space’s musical history, documented with old concert posters, or head to a table out back where the conversation flows like the lounge’s Quan Yin fountain, which honors the Bodhisattva of Compassion.

“The community of people that come are so warm and the diversity racially and age-wise is super unique,” McGarrigle said. “I like to describe the vibe as if you could literally be in Austin, New Orleans or somewhere in the middle of Africa. You could be anywhere - it’s timeless