#almost had the inclination to do a whole long comic

[dragonbonez]

He had fun though.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

If it is alright with you, may I request hcs where Night Terrors, Smiley (or Jason), and Helen (separately) subconsciously refer to their s/o as their spouse while talking to someone (slipped out naturally without them realizing even though they aren’t married).

This got very long, I hope you enjoy :) I did go with Jason because I love writing him in stuff like this.

Terrors:

Does not even notice he did it, quite honestly. If you hadn't pulled him aside after that conversation and informed him of what he had done (a big smile on your face the whole time), Terrors would not have been aware of what he had done. However, now that you've told him, his mind is basically in lockdown mode. He's standing before you, frozen in place, flustered, and filled with shock and embarrassment for letting such a slip-up happen. A blush starts forming on his cheeks, and he's quick to take you somewhere private. He clears his throat and apologizes for doing such a thing, although you tell him that it's okay and that it made you happy, which causes him to sigh and cover his face. Terrors isn't used to love, or affection, even after dating you for so long sometimes the feelings inside of him feel so alien, and he can't quite place the emotions running through him right now. He eventually comes to the conclusion that the idea of you being his spouse makes him happy as well, and he tells you as such.

He stands tall and regal, walking over to you and lifting your hand to his lips as he bends over to press tender kisses to it before he stands again and says you must simply do something about it then. He's never considered the prospect of marriage (even before he fused with Candy), but if he wants something, he's inclined to have it. He begins asking you your opinion about weddings and proposals, speaking so formally and elegantly about it you'd forget he was confused and flustered moments before. You pause him to insist that you should discuss this with Candy as well first, but when Terrors informs you that Candy wants to marry you as well (considering they share a brain and can see each other's thoughts on occasion), which causes you to grow flustered at the sudden announcement. Needless to say, much was discussed that night, in true formal rigid Terrors fashion. It's almost comical how serious he's taking this, but Terrors has always been serious about you, and if he's going to marry you, he's going to make it perfect, no matter what, because someone as kind as you to love a man like him deserves the best he can offer.

Jason:

I think Jason is the type to refer to you as his spouse in his mind for a little while before he even considers getting engaged to you, just like sometimes you might refer to your partner jokingly as your spouse, but to Jason, he means it. Of course, he's always been careful not to say such a thing out loud, but it seems like today was the day his absentmindedness caught up to him as he introduced you as his spouse to someone. Jason notices immediately what he's said, and merely hopes you didn't hear him, and also hopes you don't notice how his ears and cheeks are beginning to turn red. However, the next time he looks at your face and sees the smile you're giving him, he knows there's no hope in merely pretending it didn't happen. He bows down, resting his head on your shoulder and sighing as his arms wrap around you, and you can only laugh at him as he deflates. He clings to you tightly, and insecurity flows through him. What if you were actually upset by him calling you that? What if you don't want to be his spouse?

He ends up voicing those opinions to you in an unusually quiet and timid voice, but you're quick to give him a good squeeze and a kiss and reassure him that you're not upset, if anything you're quite happy, and that you would in fact love to marry him some day. That puts the pep right back into him as he stands so he can look into your eyes, a blush still coating his cheeks as he asks if you're sure, and when you reaffirm that you are, a bright smile spreads to his cheeks as he covers you in kisses. He says he guesses he should buy a ring then, and you smile up at him and say that he should, although his question was a bit of a fib. He's already got a ring, one he picked out a few months ago, and he's just been waiting for the right time, but your affirmation confirms he was right in doing so. Now, he just can't wait to show it to you, and to hear the word 'yes' once again flow from your lips he suddenly can't resist kissing. You'll be his spouse in actuality and not just name one day, hopefully soon, and the thought fills him with life and joy.

Helen:

Helen is the last person anyone in the mansion would guess would do something like that, due to his unemotional and stoic behaviors, but hidden behind that mask are deep feelings only you are lucky enough to be privy to. He realizes immediately what he's done, and he's quick to drag you off somewhere private before he can even see if you noticed, burying his face into your chest and refusing to look at you. He squeezes you tight, his body trembling, and you can only hold him and quietly try and soothe him. Helen is flustered and honestly quite nervous about doing such a thing. Thanks to his horrible parents, he never considered the prospect of getting married himself, but after being with you for so long, his mind has been subconsciously changing its idea about getting married. However, he hadn't noticed until he referred to you like that, the sudden realization that he does, in fact, want to marry you shocking him, but in a good way.

He feels overwhelmed by the realization and the sudden feelings overtaking his mind, and he's only pulled back down by the feeling of your lips on his forehead. When you eventually quietly say it would make you happy to be his spouse, that him calling you that made you happy, his face is burning hot from how red it is, and he can only look down, unsure of what to say. You ask him if he would like that too, and he nods, saying that he would, and so you smile at him, pressing kisses to his lips and causing him to melt against you. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and holding you tight to his chest, and he knows his past self would feel disgusted by how incredibly happy this makes him. He always told himself he'd be a loner, never fall in love, never want any of the stuff he always found mushy and unnecessary, but sitting here with you, he can't help but feel ecstatic about how happy you make him, and the idea of you being his forever. Although, he does pinch your cheeks and tells you not to tell another soul what he did back there, you can only mumble out a slurred 'okay' as he tugs on your cheeks affectionately.

[milkytheholy1]

The big screen

Request: Hello ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

Can You do a Rise Leo x a crush fem reader were the reader is an actor for a movie as the maniac villan but she is very shy irl (maybe Leo finds a fan fiction about reader, would he read it? XD) Is ok if you don't want to do this 😅

---

The air felt thick with the amount of smoke flourishing out of the toppled-over buildings, the outlandish sounds of innocent screams and car horns were blaring in the distance. You stood there, in a circle of broken glass and debris, smirking. Your hands twisted in an unnatural way, wavering around a deep red magic, glaring with dead eyes at those who crossed your path.

"This is your last chance," you all but hissed, fingers rigid and teeth bared, "Leave me alone!"

"Annnd cut! Alright everyone, let's do a reset! (Y/N) head to make-up for some touch-ups." yelled the director, swivelling back in his chair to face the monitors. The illusion of the fake world you played in dissipated as the green screens became more apparent, the smoke machine was turned off and the speakers blaring screams was muted. With a quick sigh and a sip of water, you headed back to your trailer, awaiting your turn for make-up.

The moment you saw your trailer come into view you let out a small smile, just a few minutes' rest would feel heavenly after such a long shoot. The second the door closed you let out a long sigh, the scarlet leather of your costume moving stiffly as you flopped onto the small bed.

Unbeknownst to you there was a figure sitting on the opposite side of the van, lounging on the sofas and making himself rather comfortable, "You. Were. Amazing!" he beamed, slamming his comic book down on the counter. You jumped, completely forgetting that you had invited, well snuck, Leo onto set today. Your cheeks soon matched your coat, as you started twirling strands of hair with your finger, "You really think so?"

"Uhhh, think so? I know so!" he beamed, "I was watching the whole thing from the catwalk, you were so cool!" he stood up and posed in front of you, "This is your last chance," he crooned, trying his best to repeat the line with the same delivery as you.

You couldn't help the giggle that slipped past your lips, "Perhaps you should go back out there instead of me, you're much more suited for this role than I am." you wanted it to sound like a joke, but deep down you knew there was a lingering feeling of truth in your words. Leo groaned, "I wish I could perform out there, but I would never be able to capture the unique beauty that is you."

God you almost wanted to swoon with how gentlemen-like he was being, "What if I wasn't meant for this role, we've already done so many retakes, I just don't think I'm getting this right." you looked down towards your knees, drawing patterns in the fake dried blood and dirt. Leonardo frowned, moving to sit by you and your extremely delicate costume; which he made a note to avoid touching.

"It's normal to have reshoots and whatnot, that's show business, baby!" he keened, jazz hands reluctantly following closely behind him. But when you didn't smile he knew he needed to jack up the sincerity.  

"Heeey, you're doing amazing! There's not another actor or actress who could nail a role like that, other than you, of course." he brushed your cheek with the pad of his thumb, willing you to look at him.

"Besides, they choose you, after all. Right? You were asked to audition by the director, they chose you to play this part! That's got to mean something hasn't it?" his wide smile was infectious, it slowly but surely made its way onto your face too, "I guess you're right?" you mewled.

A knock at the door broke you both apart, Leo inclined to hide in the shadows of your trailer. With a timid voice, you spoke up "Who is it?"

"It's Tyler, the intern, I'm here to take you to hair and make-up."

You nodded your head, not like this Tyler was going to see it anyway. You turned to Leo with a grimace evident on your face, "I have to go now, I wish I didn't have to though."

"Hey, you're gonna make a killer movie!" Leo bribed, "Plus you're gonna win so many awards, maybe even an Oscar! Which I'm totally tagging along with, by the way."

You couldn't help the snort, "Go get 'em, tiger." Leo smiled, giving you an earnest thumbs up. You nodded your head, took a deep breath and swung the door to your trailer open. You were ready and you were gonna nail this. And who knows, maybe you will win an award or two?

"And the winner for best actress of the 2024 Oscars, goes to....(Y/N)!"

[mikerickson]

Lifting my self-imposed embargo because I'm weird and don't like posting on social media when I'm on vacation.

I'm at a point in my life where I can financially justify at least one international vacation a year and figured I'd finally cross off the Great White North from the bucket list. I'd never been and Andrew hadn't been back in a very long time despite having dual citizenship. Anyways, just got back, and a bullet-point breakdown of the highlights is after the cut:

I wish every international flight was under two hours; EWR to YQB was almost comically fast.

Had my first French conversation with the very nice lady at the car rental counter for about ten minutes. She complemented my pronunciation and grammar, and wished me luck on the trip. Every French interaction after this point was a linguistic battle for my life that I lost (Toutes les Québecois parlent trop vite pour moi).

We had some time to kill before the hotel check-in so we went to a mall in the suburbs just so we'd have a food court with some options. Turns out shopping malls are not only alive and well but fucking thriving in Canada. I haven't seen a mall that packed with people outside of December since the nineties.

Quebec City was very dense with old architecture which made it feel very European. It was also apparently built on a fucking cliff with streets at 60 degree inclines, which also felt very European.

Took a tour of the Quebec Parliament building (beautiful structure), and apparently they used to be bicameral, but voted to abolish their Senate in the 60's and they were the last Canadian province to do so. What a concept.

It's one thing to know on paper that Canada has about 1/8th of the population of the US, but I was not prepared for just how empty the countryside felt. For someone like me, living in the northeast my whole life, the idea that cities in close proximity to each other not having continuous stretches of suburbs and other smaller cities connecting them was completely foreign.

On the highways I kept thinking I was speeding because I'd look down at the dashboard and see the number "100", but 100 km/h is only like 62 mph, which is nothing.

Similarly, I kept getting sticker shock every time I spent money, and kept having to remind myself that $1 CAD was like $0.73 USD while we were there.

It was really cool to see that the complex for the 1976 Montreal Olympics is still maintained and actively used (we stumbled upon a skateboarding competition and I did not feel cool enough to be in that crowd). Sometimes you hear horror stories about Olympic villages bankrupting cities and falling into disuse afterwards, but that's definitely not the case here.

Montreal is apparently known for their local bagel culture, but their bagels have enormous holes in the middle of them, so you have less cross-sectional area for spreads and they don't really work for sandwiches. My faith in NJ/NY bagel superiority remains intact.

Every city we went to had dedicated bike lane infrastructure and young families with kids, but Montreal definitely had the most of both. Tons of parks, too. Simultaneously felt like a larger and smaller city than I was expecting.

Poutine is okay, but I wasn't prepared for the cheese to squeak when you bite into it. Very odd sensation.

The main Parliament building for the federal government in Ottawa (Centre Block) is stunning, but closed; apparently it's been under renovation since 2019 and isn't expected to be reopened until 2032! In the meantime, we took a tour of where the lower House of Commons is currently meeting. We learned that their electoral districts are routinely re-drafted by a non-partisan committee and that they occasionally add new seats to the legislature to account for changes in population. I had to seethe jealously in silence for the rest of the tour.

Also toured their Supreme Court building (way more Art Deco than I was expecting). We learned that there's currently a vacancy because a Justice recently retired because they're required to step down when they turn 75. I had to seethe jealously in silence for the rest of the tour.

Every single city had automatic/self-serve parking garages where you didn't have to interact with a human (which I was very thankful for), but in Ottawa they have this little jingle that the machine sings at you when you take your ticket, which I found very amusing.

On the drive to Toronto we took a quick detour into the Thousand Islands (yes, like the salad dressing) and visited Boldt Castle, which is technically in New York state. After seeing it in practice, the idea of living on your own private island is more appealing than ever.

Toronto feels like an exercise in what happens when a nation's largest city is allowed to grow without being hemmed in by ridiculous geography. As someone who grew up in NYC, this is another concept foreign to me. The GPS did get very tripped up navigating a particularly gnarly interchange however.

Toured the Ontario Legislative Assembly (yet another beautiful building). At this point we were really good at asking tour guides stuff like, "so if happens, do you guys have a plan?" To which they would reply, "well, no, but let's just hope that never happens!"

I now understand why the Great Lakes are effectively freshwater inland seas; you really cannot see the other shore, and Lake Ontario isn't even the biggest one!

YYC to EWR was under an hour. That's definitely going to spoil me for future trips going forward.

[gunnerkriggcritical]

Pointing out Toms contempt for fan theories. I used to find the little jabs about readers funny, like people thought Jones was a robot and he actually had someone theorize it in canon as a joke. But now I feel like their almost vindictive. Like when people wondered if Tony had some sort of power that allowed him to come off as more charming, which would have explained why Kat was the only one who seemed to be calling out his abuse since she's not effected by ether in the same way. Then Get Lost happened and we literally had James accusing Tony of doing something to Surma like that. Once again using Eglamore as the unreasonable detractor...after he just got cheated on. I'm sorry I'm sorry if all these asks as encouraging this place into a tonyhateblog but words can not describe how much I loath Tom demanding I sympathize with this character and him ruining his decades long story to do it.

Don’t apologize. I love getting these asks, and if I’m honest this was already a Tony hate blog before I even started it, lol. And I agree completely. There’s times when I love it when creators interact with fandoms, but Tom seems to have taken multiple opportunities to use his comic to insult fans or directly tell them they’re wrong in how they feel about something, instead of just like… I dunno… letting the story speak for itself? Which seems to me to be the better option here?

I have a lot of problems with “Get Lost.” This was always a story of Eglamore getting hurt for reasons that weren’t his fault, but I wouldn’t have been averse to the cheating thing if it was presented more compellingly. Like, we always knew Surma is a morally ambiguous character who has no problem making selfish choices that hurt others, and I was fine with that - in fact, I liked her for it. But “Get Lost” is such a boring, weird chapter, which doesn’t really endear me to either Tony OR Surma, and at the end I get the strong impression we’re supposed to sympathize entirely with Surma and think Eglamore is just the crazy ex who deserved to be cheated on because he was never around. (Andrew has managed not to cheat on Parley, but okay.) I’ve never really liked that chapter, and I’ve always sort of hold onto hope that more will be revealed about it - like, maybe the story that Surma told Anja wasn’t the whole truth. But it’s been 5 years, so somehow I doubt it.

Honestly, I’m still kind of theorizing that there might be something supernatural about Tony. “Get Lost” is, in some ways, a pretty mysterious chapter. What was going on with the insects and slugs? When I first read it, I myself was convinced we were meant to interpret it as some sort of supernatural interference that made Surma more inclined to fall in love, but now I’m not so sure what to think. In any case, I think it’s pretty reasonable for fans to theorize that, and I don’t think it’s reasonable for Tom to use his comic to jab at them.

[thcophagy]

it had been an awfully long time since someone had shown any real interest in rabbit, something genuine and not a mere ploy for entertainment. mac was strange but he knew he wasn't much different, he'd never felt like he got along all that well with his peers, always viewed as an outsider even within his own family, it was a pleasant surprise to find kinship in a stranger. it helped that she was drop dead gorgeous, making each word out of her mouth something rabbit was more inclined to believe. his heart skipped a beat as she reached forward to grab his hands and while he tried to keep a straight face, the sweatiness of his palms clearly gave away how insanely nervous she made him. "a girlfriend?" rabbit splutterred and fell into a fit of giggles, one that he hurriedly tried to wiggle out from to little avail. "no- no i ain't had one of those in a while." it was a small town, eventually a girl or two had decided that he wasn't the worst looking guy around and that they could stomach his simple ways in return for what they pictured to be normalcy, but it never lasted all that long. his brain couldn't even compute the possibility that mac might have been trying to flirt with him, if it had he might have melted into a puddle ready for his bored co-workers to mop up but instead, he kept the same dopey smile and eagerly clung to each new word that barelled out from her pretty mouth. he tried not to look to disapointed when she let go of her hands in order to dig in to her meal, instead shooting a smug glare up at the waiter only to then turn his attention back to his new companion. as she explained where she'd came from, rabbit's mouth dropped open comically once again and he almost bounced up and down in excitement. "really? what a coinidence!" that had to mean something, right? growing up a trailer park kid had expotentially affected the way that others saw rabbit and how he, in turn, saw the world. mac could relate to him in a way that very few in town could, most people were happy to be judgemental, especially when he was younger and their trailer tried to balance a family of five rambunctious kids but he'd turned out fine! in his humble opinion, mac had too. "yeah! yeah there was a bunch of us too! mama got a room to herself so we used to switch out who got the extra two beds and who had to pile up on the couch..." rabbit reminised while mac ate, paying little attention to the way she mawled at her meal like a starved animal. "...but mama's gone now, so are my brothers and sisters so... i guess that just means there's been plenty of room for me!" his eldest brother still lived in the park, though a couple of trailers down with his girlfriend and their babies who rabbit visited time to time. it was strange going from a place so cramped to having it all to himself, but once their mother had died it seemed like the brandt family had no reason to stick around in a town that had never liked them much. the same couldn't be said for rabbit, he was much to attached to the familiarity of the place, he was in no rush to leave the home he'd known his whole life. he eventually came back from his daydream and blinked down at the mess she had made so suddenly. after not eating for so long, he couldn't blame her for the furiousity at which she consumed her food- hell, he got grumpy after a couple of hours without a snack. it didn't turn him off, strangely it only endeared him further. she was real, authentic, didn't give two hoots about what anyone in that diner might have thought about her, even him. "gosh... well, you ain't so bad yourself." he said, though the truth of what he actually craved to say was clear as day behind his nervous smirk. a tour was the least he could do, it wouldn't be fair to leave her stranded and they'd already striked up a friendship of sorts, what kind of a friend would he be if he were to leave her all alone in a town she knew nothing about? no, rabbit was better than that, and mac deserved some kindness after all he hardships.

though mac viewed him through the eyes of a predator, her heart was undoubtably human— she could be plotting his torment and smitten with his tenderhearted charm all at once. perhaps it was because she'd never been genuinely praised for something like her wit or conversational skills, but mac felt all warm and fuzzy when he complimented her, like how movie characters felt when they were in love. "yeah? well, thank you! you're just the sweetest thing," she gushed, reaching out for his hands and holding them atop the table with a gentle squeeze. "i bet the girls 'round here just eat that shit up... you got a girlfriend, bunny?" he didn't need to respond for her to know he didn't, but she wanted him to know she was curious. or maybe girls in this town actually appreciated bumbling, awkward, sweet-as-pie guys like him, but somehow, she doubted it. didn't matter where she went, mac was certain one thing was constant— women didn't know a good thing even when it was staring them right in the face. not mac, though. when you were raised on shit, even something as bland as cheerios could feel like a delicacy; at least rabbit was the honey nut version. she would gorge herself on him 'til she was sick, and then she'd go about seeking out a new source of fulfillment. there was no telling how long that would take, it could be as little as a few hours or as long as she remained present on this filthy planet, but she could tell he'd be along for the ride as long as she was in the driver's seat. "we're practically neighbors, ain't we?" she wrinkled her nose affectionately at him. "that's alright... i probably couldn't even name all the states with a gun t' my head, tell ya' th' truth." geography wasn't her forte, because it was an academic subject, but she was a damn good tracker, because it was an instinct rather than something she had to study to succeed in. ditziness wasn't a problem for mac, but rather she preferred her conquests that way. less thoughts in their head just meant she had more room to worm her way in and make a home there. as if it was even possible, her face lit up even further when he told her about his home, comforted by the perceived familiarity. "no shit? see, i knew there was somethin' 'bout you..." only when the waiter returned with several plates of steaming food did mac release his hands, moving hers back to her sides before thanking the greasy haired man with a wink and turning her attention back to rabbit. "i lived in a trailer back home, y'know. my whole family, we pretty much took over this one park out on the edge 'a town." only four of the once expansive mcdermott clan now remained dwelling in the park, spread out across the desolate grounds, likely losing sleep over the loss of one of their last remaining members. she wouldn't miss them, but she might miss those grounds. no consideration given to appearing ladylike or polite, mac cut off a big chunk of pancake from the syrup laden stack set before her, going from plate to plate to get a bit of everything on her fork before stuffing the franken-bite in her mouth, food spilling out from her painted lips as she chewed messily. "you gonna give me the vip tour?" she spoke with her mouth full, bits of half chewed pancake flying out across the table in his direction. finally swallowing, she washed it all down with a heavy gulp of her coffee, using the back of her hand to wipe her mouth once she'd set the mug down and leaving a smear of hot pink across her cheek. "well, goddamn... it really is my lucky day, huh? i got a free meal and the cutest tour guide in town all at once!"

[barrenclan]

Actually wait I do have a legit question but idk if I’m gonna word it right.

How do you manage to balance multiple large projects out like this? Like you already have tds, and now this story, along with other irl things like college and what not I’m assuming. Just asking as someone who is VERY bad at managing multiple things at once, its interesting how you’re able to pull it off well. (Yes I know you’ve just begun this, but clearly you already have some planning already.)

Oh yeah I'm supremely busy right now haha! Classes + honors leading + independent research + generally just Living is on my IRL plate, and for my art projects I'm working on TDS, PATFW, and also my RVB Trek series. Oh, and a few MAPs/MAP parts, too. And I do unrelated artwork sometimes too. And I'm reading the whole ASOIAF series this semester. But I don't have a job right now, so... that's something!

I guess for me, staying balanced involves a lot of organization; like, I use a whiteboard to track out all my assignments & responsibilities with the due-dates so I can see what needs to be done Now and what I can do over the weekend, etc. I have one both for art and for schoolwork. And honestly, I think after working on a comic for multiple years I've just kind of gotten using to sneaking time to draw where I can? I do a lot of it in the evening, or wherever I had a chance to sit down with my tablet. Drawing is my relaxation time, so it's not ever a chore, especially because I watch/listen to things while doing it.

Also, I do a lot of buffer. TDS has about nine pages worth of buffer right now, because I finished a lot of pages in the summer, which translates to almost two months of updating without technically needing to draw another page. (Even though I do draw pages, to stay around that number.) PATFW is also buffered, although not as much since I just started - only a single issue ahead so far.

And I'm not gonna lie, I don't have a very big social life outside of seeing a few friends every week. But I am someone who makes two Warriors OC webcomics, so I'm not terribly inclined to being social anyways. I get enough of what I need to stay sane.

One thing I try my best not to sacrifice is sleep, though. I believe incredibly deeply in the importance of a good night's sleep and I try to never go to bed later than half-past midnight. That takes priority over classes, which take priority over hobbies. It takes a lot of discipline but I guess that's how I've built it!

That was a very long, rambly answer, sorry, but I hope you kind of got what you were looking for out of it anyways.

[readwebcomicsgdi]

It’s that time again!

Are you ready for some more webcomic recs! you better be because they are ready for you

Curse of the Eel By Jorge Santiago Jr.

Introverted, goth Connie is bullied. One day, she summons up an eldritch-like creature and her life changes forever.

Very traditional black-and-white Japanese Horror comic, I bought the books from Jorge at a convention recently and they’re REALLY fun to read on paper, but the entire thing is also up for free online! Spooky and gory the way you’d expect a Junji Ito comic to be, so do keep that in mind before you click through.

https://curseoftheeel.tumblr.com/

Tourist Unknown By Gustav Carlson

Tourist Unknown follows the various adventures of the Tourist, a woman trapped in a machine known as The Projector. This device sends her consciousness anywhere across the whole of space time, and then constructs a body made of unused local matter for her to inhabit. And it’s broken. Or set to shuffle. The Tourist isn’t really sure. Suffice to say she has no control of where she is going, nor how long she’ll be there. It’s a big universe and she is seeing it all one trip at a time

I found this one pretty recently so there may be some news I’m unfamiliar with; I THINK it’s still running despite what the archive says? It’s also not as long as you’d expect given the dates it’s been running; none of the completed arcs run more than 40 pages so don’t let the abbreviated archive spook you. I just had to include this one because it reminds me so much of Doom Patrol; it’s very comfortably in that category of like, “doing exactly what it wants On Purpose” that I love so much. Check this one out if you’re looking for something different!

https://www.touristunknown.com/

Next Town Over By Erin Mehlos

Mysterious and mechanically-inclined, Vane Black will pursue wanted rogue John Henry Hunter to the ends of the frontier ... with explosive and unfortunate results for anyone in their path.

Frontier fantasy full of steam, sorcery and secrets!

Next Town Over was doing Steampunk before it was cool, but to be honest I feel like it’s grown beyond that and it’s sort of a disservice to view it as solidly A Western or any particular genre because it’s gotten so goddamn comfortable with itself, which is one of my favorite things about webcomics. It’s also nearly finished! Settle in on a rainy weekend and treat yourself to the whole archive, then follow Erin on twitter so you can hop on board the next thing they do.

https://nexttownover.net/

Nox Hill?

This one is getting an abbreviated mention because uh, I can’t find anything official about it lmao. The main website only links to a comic twitter, which doesn’t link anywhere else, and there’s no plot summary or even any indication of who makes it beyond the name “Zee”. That said! The art is good, it’s running on its own website the artist obviously designed themself with specific intentions, and it seems like a fun haunted house story that’s just getting started. After some digging I found a link tree for the artist, which you can look at here.

https://noxhillcomic.com/

I’d also like to mention Cheap Thrills and Rigsby, WI by SE Case, which you have almost certainly heard of before and doesn’t need any help from me BUT I reread them both again recently and it’s a wonderful example of someone making their own work on their own terms, which is kind of the entire point of what I’m doing here. Rigsby is a “reboot” of Cheap Thrills so you don’t need to read them both, but in my opinion my experience with the story is better for having seen where it originated so it doesn’t hurt to check them both out in that order! I like webcomics y’all.

And as always, mine is here too:

Kidd Commander by Aria Bell

It’s a world at the mercy of uncaring gods, and Phineas Kidd is a heretic with a chip on her shoulder and enough fury to outshine a supernova. Armed only with aggressive enthusiasm (and an explosive left hook), Phineas sets out to gather up a merry crew and travel to Kairos Crossing to catch the sun, an urban legend that has tempted countless dreamers to a bloody end.

Kidd Commander is a romantic comic that’s mostly concerned with ambitious characters doing cool anime stuff while being subjected to trauma and dealing with said trauma! Rated T for lots of (cartoon) violence and swearing, and a good deal of irreverence for topics some folks might prefer to leave revered. If any of that sounds like it might make you uncomfortable this comic may not be suitable for you!    

http://kiddcommander.com/

If you’d like a comic (yours or otherwise) to end up in one of these, send me an ask or whatever and I’ll add it to my list of stuff to check out! The only requirements I have are I’d prefer for it to be a bit lesser known and it needs to be accessible in places other than tapas or webtoon because I am physically and emotionally incapable of engaging with either of those sites. Happy reading!

[gaknar]

Time to crack open another omniboo. We’re really in the home stretch with Claremont’s run. I’m only going to read up to Claremont’s last issue, which is issue #3 of adjective-less X-Men (second from the left and bottom in the cover collage there), and then I’m going to write up a big review for this reading which will include everything that has happened since Inferno. And then... I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m definitely going to keep reading, but I haven’t decided on exactly what, or if I’m going to keep blogging about it. I’ve had this blog going since the end of 2014 and I’ve almost read everything I was really excited to read. Since then, the scope of my plans got really inflated. Originally it was just going to be the main X-Men series along with direct crossovers, but once I saw how closely Uncanny X-Men crossed over with New Mutants and X-Factor I decided to include those series in their entirety as well, and all those comics really slowed my progress. 

Going forward, I’m definitely going to continue reading Uncanny X-Men and adjective-less X-Men, and because I hate myself I’m going to read Rob Liefeld’s run on X-Force (because it’s not very long). But I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to include Peter David’s X-Factor or Generation X or any of the other spinoffs. Part of me wants to stay focused on the two main series so I can get through my books a lot quicker, but I also don’t want to miss anything important. I also have had inclinations to finally ditch the blog since it really slows down my reading. I’ve secretly been hoping that Tumblr goes under and everything gets deleted so I have an excuse to give it up. But on the other hand, I don’t really feel like I consume the stories as well when I don’t go back and do the blogs. When I was a kid, I got a few comics a month and I read them a dozen times each, and I had them memorized by the time the next issues came out. Now I read a comic once, usually before bed when I’m really sleepy, and if I don’t go back and do an analysis on it then I can barely remember what happened when I start the next issue. As a result, a lot of the magic is lost, as well as my connection to the stories and the characters. I don’t want to lose that stuff. It’s the whole point of spending my free time in this hobby. And I still enjoy writing. I just have a lot less time to put into it with other more interesting projects available to work on. Ah well, if nothing else, I can continue the reading and blogging at a slow pace and not stress out too much when my queue empties out. I can just chip away at it as life goes on. That’s kind of how I’m leaning at the moment. I wonder if I’ll ever catch up with the current material.

With love, Gaknar. 

[autistocracy]

“Kid, you awake?” a man’s deep voice said, cutting through the fog in my head.

I wasn’t roused, my head still feeling dense for some reason.

“Kid!” the deep voice man bellowed right next to my ear, startling me to my feet.

“W-What was that f-” I started, but was interrupted by the sight that greeted me when I opened my eyes.

The only other person in the room was a man the size of an elephant. He was dressed like a barbarian from some comic or cheesy fantasy artwork; he wore an animal pelt skirt, and his broad, chiselled chest was bare, save two harness straps that criss-crossed over his sternum. He had long, red hair, almost the colour of blood, and bright green eyes that twinkled like a sunrise.

Though it was difficult, I tore my attention away from the mountain of flesh who had so rudely awoken me and looked around the room. It was like a mead hall from some Vikings themed TV show, with animal pelts of various sizes, shapes, and colours hanging like tapestries on all the walls. Smoke from a massive raging fire in the centre of the room hung lazily in the air up near the ceiling, slowly venting out through some small vent holes. Arrayed about the fire were sitting cushions that brought a bit of ostentation and taste to the otherwise wild décor of the room.

“You awake, kid?” the big man asked once more, placing a hand on my shoulder far more gently than someone his size had any right to be able to do.

“Where am I?” I asked, feeling in awe at the size of the man, as well as the atmosphere of the room I had so suddenly woken up in.

“T’s my hall. What’s it look like to ya? Y’ain’t knocked yer head, have ya?” the big man asked, bending his massive frame to take a look into my eyes.

“What am I doing here? Who are you?” I continued questioning him defensively. My head was starting to hurt. Had I been kidnapped? Was this guy gonna kill me?!

“No need ta get feisty, now, kid. Ain’t gonna do ya no harm. Name’s Fōr-i-vojne, god’a war an’ fire! Pleasure ta meet ya, kid!” the big man introduced himself, proceeding to incline backwards and let out a bellowing laugh that shook the whole hall.

“G-God?” I stammered. As much as I wanted to think he was crazy, or think he was joking, the presence he gave off made me feel like he was being totally honest.

“Aye!” he beamed at me and stuck out a hand big enough to eclipse my whole head.

Feeling no other recourse, I reluctantly accepted the hand. As with earlier, and in complete contradiction to his stature and the fact he called himself a god of war, his handshake was gentle. I’d been afraid he would squish me like a grape, but other than the massive size of the mitt in my hand – or, rather, encasing my own hand –, I may as well have been shaking the hand of a new business associate or something.

He let out another boisterous laugh that shook the rafters as we let go of the handshake, and took a seat at the head of the fire on a cushion three times the size of any of the others. Compared to those, it looked simply decadent, but after he sat upon it, it reminded me of an elementary school teacher taking a seat in a student’s chair and totally dwarfing it. After he took a seat, he beckoned for me to join beside him by the fire.

“Why am I here?” I asked as I obliged his beckoning.

“Wells, ya was killed back on Earth – died in your sleep after some villain broke inta yer apartment! Turns out, that villain came from a parallel world I oversee, and he’d somehow managed to slip past all our divine safeguards to keep such a thing from happening!” he explained, sounding very regretful to inform me of my own death due to his perceived failing.

“I-I’m dead?”

“Yea, unfortunately. I’m in good with the sovereign of your world, and the two’a us felt bad about lettin’ ya get killed, and so he done agreed to send ya to my world to live another life! What’a ya say, kid – hows about it?” he smiled broadly at me, as if he hadn’t just told me some the most insane things I’d ever heard. In spite of the insanity, I totally accepted everything he said – he struck me as a very straight forward kinda guy.

“I guess that’s fine,” I answered. “There was really nothing on Earth for me in the first place – my parents died a few years ago, and I have no other family, and I job I can’t stand.”

“Alright! Sorry again fer lettin’ ya get killed, but welcome aboard! Our planet’s called Bejte, a word meaning home. T’s like one’a them fantasy stories you humans on Earth have – magic an’ alla that, y’know? Great place,” Fōr-i-vojne informed me.

“What will I be doing there?”

“Ye’ll live yer life afresh. We might now and again ask ya fer somethin’ – like helpin’ some’a our devotees or slayin’ the occasional beast – but we’ll mostly leave ya to yer own devices.”

“Will I get any special abilities?”

“Some’a my kin’re gonna come on by right soon ta bestow ya with their blessin’s an’ stuff. Thinks we have a few minutes ‘til they arrive now,” he finished.

The two of us sat in silence for about five minutes before Fōr-i-vojne’s kin arrived. I wasn’t sure what I expected when he told me his kin were coming, but I was both disappointed and awestruck at the same time. Some of the gods who shuffled in rivalled Fōr-i-vojne in stature – though none were as tall as he –, while others were no tall than me; there were even a few gods who looked like children, though they totally didn’t give off a presence like a child, and the two or three of such stature felt like some of the most powerful in the room.

“I’m glad y’all could make it on such short notice!” Fōr-i-vojne announced about 15 minutes after the gods had started shuffling in, once they had all arrived. His speech was a lot more formal than it had been when it was just the two of us.

“What is it this time, cousin?” a man whose stature was almost equal to Fōr-i-vojne’s asked, sounding somewhat displeased to be called on such short notice.

“This human from Earth here was murdered by a native of Bejte,” Fōr-i-vojne announced.

As the announcement swept over the crowd, voices began to amplify in volume, and discussion broke out all around the large fire. All the gods sounded shocked, and one or two even nearly fainted, having to be fanned by servants.

“Calm, calm!” a woman seat to Fōr-i-vojne’s left – opposite from me across the fire – called, her voice cutting over the din.

“Is that true, Ol’ Fire?” a man seated next to the guy who’d called Fōr-i-vojne cousin earlier and who looked just like him asked.

“Unfortunately, it is. He was killed in his sleep, so he didn’t suffer, but Hades and I saw fit to offer him to repay him by giving him a new life on Bejte. I called you here to bestow some blessings on this human before then, though,” Fōr-i-vojne explained.

“Of course we’ll give him our blessings!” a woman’s voice called from the other end of the fire.

After her affirmation, a chorus of other voices joined in, echoing her support.

“Fantastic! After a small banquet, you’ll all introduce yourselves to…” Fōr-i-vojne stumbled a little, “… uh, well, he was called Daniel in his past life, but he’ll need a new name, so if anyone can’t bestow a blessing, why not give him a name instead?”

And so, a great banquet began. I’d never seen so much food – much of it I didn’t even recognise in the first place. There were at least a dozen full sized roasted cows, and most of these were basically picked clean of meat in the blink of an eye. Fruits of exotic shape and colour, meats that tasted otherworldly… If it hadn’t sunk in before that I was on a crazy adventure, it sure was hitting home now.

What felt like several days later – though it was in truth only a few hours – the feast was over, and everyone formed an orderly line in front of Fōr-i-vojne and I. These gods were a lot more… cooperative than the old polytheistic gods of earth were ever portrayed as.

“This is Zełbomu, my sister, the goddess of nature,” Fōr-i-vojne said, introducing me to the first god in the line. “You’ll probably see her often on Bejte, as she’s one of the most active of us in the affairs of humans.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said to me.

Her voice was soft and pleasant, like a gently twinkling wind chime blowing in a slight wind. She was adorned all in green clothing and her long, light blonde hair was accessorised with flowers of various colours.

“You too,” I replied, feeling a little awkward. The most prominent person I’d ever met in my past life was the mayor of the town I’d grown up in; I had no idea how to talk to lofty people, much less literal deities.

“You don’t need to be so uncomfortable, dear,” Zełbomu smiled and I felt warmth spread throughout my chest.

“Th-Thank you,” I bowed slightly.

“Haha, looks like ya captured another one, sis,” Fōr-i-vojne laughed quietly behind me.

“I didn’t capture anyone, boor,” Zełbomu flashed a look at the big god, and flowers began to sprout from his hair.

“Stop fighting,” a man said simply from behind Zełbomu.

“My, sorry. You know how he is, Gōdragine,” she replied, turning to look behind her.

The man who had spoken, Gōdragine, was the same man who had earlier called Fōr-i-vojne cousin. He was dressed in tasteful, yet expensive-looking, clothing that fit his body perfectly. His hair was perfectly kempt, and his beard was short and well groomed. He wore a pair of glasses that looked almost comical on a man of his height.

“My name is Gōdragine. Do please remember it, Mr. Daniel,” he introduced himself, giving a slight bow, almost as formal as his tone of voice.

“Gōdragine is the patron of kings and their advisors, the god of authority,” Fōr-i-vojne told me, his formality once again returning.

“I-Its good to meet you, Gōdragine. I’ll be sure to remember your name,” I responded, bowing myself, though the action felt awkward and stilted.

After Gōdragine came a succession of gods that didn’t seem to end. While the feast had felt like it had gone on for days, the meet-and-greet felt like it had gone on for weeks by the time it was over.

With all the gods save for Fōr-i-vojne and his son-cum-assistant, Ąstuzefōre, now gone, I slumped on the sitting cushion with a hmph. I was exhausted, which surprised me, since I don’t think I was technically even alive – could a spirit feel exhaustion?

“So, what did you think of us gods?” Fōr-i-vojne asked me, licking the nib of a pen before putting it to some parchment on a small table before him.

“There were a lot of them,” I answered, my eyes feeling heavy.

Fōr-i-vojne barked with laughter that again shook the whole hall, and which threatened to knock the inkpot on the small table he was using. His son diligently put a hand on his father’s shoulder, which probably would have looked strange if Ąstuzefōre weren’t almost as tall as his father. Fōr-i-vojne looked down and saw the inkpot nearly slipping off the table and grabbed it.

“Whoops!” he laughed even louder, the inkpot now safely held in his massive hand.

“When am I going to… Bejte?” I asked him after a few minutes had passed.

“We’ll send ya on down tomorrow. Fer now, we hafta teach ya the language,” he answered, not looking up from his parchment.

“How am I going to learn a language in a single day?” I questioned.

“You’ve just attended a banquet full of gods and received blessings from all of them and that’s where you draw the line?” Ąstuzefōre asked me.

“Well, when you say that…” I replied awkwardly.

“Yea, having said that, sign this, kid,” Fōr-i-vojne said to me, handing me the piece of parchment he’d been writing on, along with the quill.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Contract sayin’ you understand what’s goin’ on an’ whatnot,” he answered, waving a hand to say it’s just a formality.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I exactly understand what’s going on, but whatever,” I responded, accepting the parchment.

“Great! Now, since nobody went and gave ya a name whens they was givin’ ya gifts, my boy and I came up with a name fer ya. How’s Gudłine sound? Means friend’a the gods!” he exclaimed.

I didn’t know how to respond to that. It felt kind of strange to be assigned a name as an adult. So, instead of responding, I wrote down my name – my actual birth name, Daniel – on the parchment he had handed me, though I couldn’t read any of the words thereon. As soon as I had finished doing so, I heard a noise in my ear; it was a strange, indescribable noise, and it filled my consciousness. A moment later, the words began lifting off the page, shining golden, and circling in the air before my eyes.

“Wha-” I started, only to be interrupted by an overjoyed Fōr-i-vojne.

“Hey! Looks like ya’ve already become attuned ta magic! Pretty amazin’, y’know. Last time wes brought someone over to Bejte from Earth, took him a few months ta acclimate,” he said.

Not long after he’d finished speaking, the words floated back to the page. Once they’d settled, I found that I was perfectly able to read the words which had once looked foreign to me. It was a lot more simple than I was expecting, though I guess my assumptions should have been lower in the first place considering the guy who’d written in.

“Well, tha’s about it fer ya up here in our realm. Ya ready ta be sent down to Bejte?” he asked me, standing up and stretching after having been sitting.

“Yes,” I answered simply. The word felt strange in my mouth, as if what I’d said didn’t match what I’d heard.

“Then, I’ll see ya later, Da-Gudłine!” he exclaimed, lifting an arm into the air.

As he did so, lights began to twist and turn around me, twinning between each other like snakes caught in battle. I felt a tugging inside of my chest, like someone was pulling me downward while clutching my very heart. After a few moments, my vision went dark.

When I was again able to see, I was standing on a small forest path. The sun was peaking through the emerald leaves that hung overhead, casting small rays of light here and there as the wind gently wafted through the alley.

Looking around, there was nothing but trees and the narrow, well-used passageway that cut through them. I wasn’t sure what I should do, since Fōr-i-vojne had just plopped me down here without so much as a word of guidance, so I just decided to follow the path.

I had only been walking for about fifteen minutes when I saw a small horse-drawn carriage before me, making its way through the forest at a gentle pace.

“Hello,” I greeted the driver after I’d caught up with it; speaking still felt strange.

“Oh! Hello!” he said in surprise, turning to look at me with a friendly smile.

“Do you mind if I walk along with you?” I asked. “I seem to be a little lost.”

“Sure, no problem at all!” he accepted.

“Who’re you talking with out there?” a woman asked as she stuck her head out of the tarp covering the carriage.

“A traveller who asked to walk along with us,” the driver answered her.

“Walk along, huh? Did you offer to let him ride in the carriage, dear?”

“Hadn’t yet.”

“Well, come on in out of the wild, traveller,” the woman smiled at me, beckoning me with a wave of her hand.

I let the carriage overtake me briefly so I could climb in through the back and found a small family sitting in the carriage. In addition to the mother who I’d already spoken to just now, there were two young boys of about 10 who looked to be twins and a young girl of maybe 5, all sitting together. The two boys were playing some strange peg and board game like cribbage but without the cards and with a set of six sided dice. The little girl was sitting on one of the boys’ lap and laughing as the two boys argued over a move one of them had snuck past the other while they were distracted by me entering.

“Welcome aboard,” the mother smiled. “My name is Vojnigardu, these two are Ałwądze and Frōdreke, and this is our youngest, Frałgastu. My husband up front is also called Frōdreke.”

Each of the children said hello when their mother said their name, and then went back to playing.

“I’m Gudłine,” I responded, trying to smile as warmly as everyone else.

“So, what brings you to the area?” Vojnigardu asked.

“Uh, well, I’m just sort of going where the road takes me, I guess,” I answered. I had no idea how to answer; I didn’t think they’d take to kindly to me saying it was my very first day on the planet and the gods hadn’t brothered to tell me much about the world I now called home.

“I see! Adventuring is fun, huh? My parents were adventurers,” Vojnigardu said. “Do you wanna go all the way to Brōkfāro with us? My parents owns a small inn there nowadays, we’d love to have you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any money on me right now,” I answered sadly.

Having said that, though, I shook the little pouch I hadn’t realised was hanging from the belt of the clothes I’d awakened in. It jingle jangled with the sound of coins.

“Oh, I guess I was wrong,” I corrected myself with an awkward laugh.

We continued to ride for about an hour, the twins continuing to play their game, and I continued to chat with Vojnigardu, learning more about the world. It was difficult keeping my questions from sounding like I was totally ignorant of everything in this world, but somehow I managed.

After that hour, we came to a sudden stop, and I thought we might have reached the town, but Vojnigardu stiffened in her seat and reached for something under it. When her hand returned to sight, there was a dagger gripped in it, her knuckles white.

“Well’en, wha’ve we got ‘ere, boys?” a taunting, gravely voice said outside the carriage, and a fist hit the side with a thud.

“Please, we haven’t got any valuables with us,” Frōdreke the Senior said from his position outside the carriage.

“Ya look pre’y young, ‘d probably fetch a fine price at the markets down south,” the voice said menacingly. “An’ I noticed ya said “we”, meanin’ ‘ere’s more’n one’a ya.”

With that, two men threw open the flaps at the rear of the carriage. They wore frightening smiles and both carried sharp-looking swords in their hands. A third man climbed up into the carriage, his smile even more menacing than the other two.

“Oi, boss! Looks like ya were right! A bitch and her bairns, and some poor bastard. Looks like they’d catch a might fine price,” the man who’d climbed up into the carriage yelled, his smile getting even more frightening.

I didn’t know what to do; I’d never been in such a tense situation. The hardest challenge I’d ever faced in my past life was when I first started my job and kept messing up and had to face my bosses’ ire. But those bosses didn’t have swords longer than my arm or sneers that were just as sharp.

Without thinking, I lashed out, landing my fist perfectly on the man’s jaw and sending him staggering backward. He looked at me with murder in his eyes for a moment, before promptly falling to the ground unconscious. I hadn’t thought I’d struck him that hard…

“Wha’s keepin’ ya, Arbrecht’?” one of the men who’d opened the flaps earlier asked, again opening the flap.

As he did so, I launched another punch, hitting him square on the nose. Unlike his fellow, Arbrechte, he was more resilient, and didn’t topple over.

“Ya bastard! I’ll have your skin for that!” he yelled as crimson blood poured down his face from his now-broken nose.

I leapt out of the carriage, somehow managing to land gracefully on my feet, and just narrowly managed to duck out of the way of a slash by the broken-nosed man’s sword. I turned to see him preparing another slash, and stepped up to him, causing him to falter at the suddenly-closed distance. I had no weapon, so I had to do the best I could with my fists; I didn’t feel like they’d give me any kind of quarter after I’d already begun roughing them up.

A sound from behind me distracted me, and a sudden pain developed in my thigh: an arrow from an archer hidden in the cover of the trees. In my distraction, I also lost track of the swordman whom I was fighting, and only remembered him at the last moment, backing up quickly; though, not quickly enough to totally avoid his blade, as warmth and pain began to spread up and down my arm as he opened a gash just above my elbow.

I fell into a crouch again, working on instinct, and as he made to strike me again, I pounced, launching my fist directly into his chin, sending him staggering once more. He recovered and spit out a mouthful of blood and teeth, and his face broke into a deadly grin as murderous rage filled his eyes.

The archer behind me fired another arrow, though it missed, and embedded itself in the ground. Miraculously, it managed to trip up my opponent, and I got another strike on him. This time he fell solidly to the ground like a sack of flour.

His buddy had been watching, for whatever reason not joining the fight until his friend hit the ground. He let loose an inarticulate roar and lunged at me with his sword. Before the point of his blade could strike me, I sidestepped it… directly into the path of another arrow, which found its place in my left shoulder.

I hit my knee, the pain briefly overwhelming me, but while on the ground, my hand found the sword that had been dropped by the man who I had just lain out. As soon as I wrapped my hand around the hilt, I felt a strange feeling fill my head, and just in the nick of time, I stood up, the sword placed perfectly to deflect the blow from my opponent.

Hearing the melee evolving behind the carriage, other bandits joined the fray, and my situation became more and more dire. Luckily for me, the mass of bodies meant that the archers in the trees couldn’t draw an aim on me for fear of hitting their comrades instead, so that was one less thing to worry about, but that mass of bodies did far more to compensate their side.

Desperately parrying, thrusting, slashing, at this enemy and that, I began to remember Fōr-i-vojne’s words on magic just before I’d left. I remembered how the words had come off the parchment when I’d signed my name, and the threads of light that had enveloped me when Fōr-i-vojne sent me to this world. I tried to keep those threads in mind, attempting to manifest them, and directing them at my enemies as pillars of fire.

I felt a feeling as if not my blood, but my soul, were draining from my body, and there was a loud noise, like an explosion, and I was suddenly blinded for a moment, and the sensation of my soul leaving me was reversed. When my eyes opened again, the bodies of the bandits were laying strewn all over the small roadway, all burnt beyond recognition.

From the cover of the trees, cries rang out about a wizard, and I could hear the rustling as many turned and ran. The man I assumed to be the boss came from the front of the carriage, his eyes resting in bewilderment on the corpses of his fallen underlings.

“Did you do this, you fucking pig?” he asked me, his voice low, almost like the growl of a wild wolf, as he got into a fighting stance.

I didn’t responded, instead raising my blade. He was the first to move, bringing his blade down heavily – far heavier than any of those men from before had done -, directly at my head. I caught his blade with mine, and wrestled it away, kicking at him with my feet. I didn’t strike him, but the action did cause him to back up just a little, giving me some breathing room to counterattack.

Swinging my sword, I once again thought of the tendrils of magic I’d see Fōr-i-vojne use, and that I’d used myself just a moment ago, but also remembered shows like Star Wars, where they’d used swords of light. Thus, I wrapped those tendrils of magic around my blade, and suddenly it was alight.

Our blades made contact again, and there was a loud, indescribable noise as my flaming blade bit into his. He tried to wrench it free, but he couldn’t – the blades had fused from the intense heat.

I let go of my grip on my sword, and he did the same. He lowered himself into a grappling stance, and I followed suit. Just as before, he made the first move, launching himself powerful directly at me. As he did so, I noticed little tendrils of light wrapping themselves around his legs; they were different from the tendrils I’d wrapped around my blade, being more like a gust of breeze through a fog.

He reached me with surprising speed, and I wasn’t able to get out of the way, distracted as I was by his use of magic. But, because I saw his magic, it inspired me to try it myself, and so instead of trying to wrap the tendrils like fire around my blade, I recalled how his magic had look and tried to emulate it myself, wrapping them around my legs and feet. As soon as I had done so, I felt the pressure coming from my opponent lessen as I began to push him back.

We continued to grapple in this way for I’m not sure how long. Finally, after he had shoved me to the ground, I grabbed hold of a small dagger which had been dropped by one of the men I’d killed earlier. He saw this and drew a similar dagger from a sheath on his waist. However, what he wasn’t expecting was what I did next: I wrapped the same, more airy magic tendrils I’d used to strength my legs around my arms instead, and launched the dagger as strong as I could directly at the man.

The flying dagger found its mark, embedding itself all the way to the crossguard deep into his chest. It made a sickening sound as it found home, and he sank to his knees, somehow managing to stay in that position even after the life had left his eyes.

As soon as he had died, I fell to my own knees, all of the pain I’d somehow been suppressing coming flooding back. I could distantly hear the voices of Frōdreke the Elder, of Vojnigardu, and their kids yelling and screaming in a mix of excitement, fear, and concern. And then the world went dark again. This seems to happen a lot to me today, my mind thought as my consciousness faded.

[docholligay]

If you have the time & inclination: I don't think you're much for the whole cosmetics side of things, but if you could, what kind of special seasonal skins or maybe (your) lore based skins would you have your creative team design for your favorite Overwatch heroes?

It's true that I am much more character than cosmetic but OH YEAH I AM INTO THIS

WInter Wonderland with my kids:

Mercy is of course getting a very specifically Hanukkah skin. Some kind of tacky Hanukkah print legging with a blue sweater/dress thing, whatever you’d call whatever the hell is going on with her outfit, a silver halo, and her wings and staff would be a menorah and candle.

Pharah is getting what I like to call “The Snowblower” as I know, I KNOW, in my heart of hearts, that she is devoted to appropriate and immediate snow removal. I KNOW THIS. I also call this one, “The lesbians are gonna love this” So big Carharrt style jacket, plaid shirt underneath, jeans, big snowboots, and a ski mask type thing for her face.

Tracer I would actually like to see in a tacky Christmas sweater--I really did like the Wooltide skin, I just don’t believe Lena has ever, in her life, been that understated left to her own devices. So I would pick a pair of like, corduroy lookin pants, and a big printed sweater with Christmas stuff all over it, and I actually do like her Wooltide hat so she can keep it.

And I want Winston to match her! I want it to feel unavoidably “They are going to the same family Christmas party” and I want Winston wearing silly reindeer antlers and I want it right now.

Hana for winter I would actually love to do in like, a pair of plaid jammies and some bunny slippers. I am absolutely certain the community wrought large would lose their shit over her not being sexy or whatever, but they’ll hate all of these anyway so that’s fine by me. I want “Hana spending the Christmas break in front of her computer” realness.

Other skin stuff:

I actually would love to have a Purim skin for Mercy! I know everyone thinks Hanukkah but Purim is actually the Jewish dress up holiday. I would love to put her ina big gaudy dress with a crown and everything like she’s dressing up as Esther and maybe her staff is like one of those yard long drinks.

I also want “date night Tracer” where she is dressed in a suit like this

Mostly because I am tired of the way they keep pushing her further and further femmey from when she first came on the scene and I want something that is very expressly butch and you could do a whole comic about how she’s called away in the middle of a date with Emily and it’ll be great, I’m a genius, I am taking no notes on this at this time.

It’s interesting how little I can think of for Pharah enough though I fucking love her, because in my mind she’s just so PRACTICAL. Her wardrobe is very much like, military wool and presidential suits and she’s very handsome but not at all flashy. Tracer is loud in almost every way it is possible for a human being to be loud, but I think of Pharah as not putting much stock in “fashion.” And Eid is mostly, as I understand ait, just, “dress your best” so there’s not a lot of ‘fun’ to be had with that when it comes to her. OH I KNOW. A “Commander Amari” outfit with the Overwatch 2.0 dress uniform. We can even call it “Press conference” instead, I love it.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 4

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: When you and Din arrive at the village in Sorgan, you both learn that the universe is full of surprises.

Rating: G

Word Count: 3,300

Warnings: Fluffy fluff, angsty angst, pining (so...much...pining...)

Author Note: All the love and thanks to everyone who reads, likes, reblogs, and comments on this series! Seriously, the support is beyond words. I wanted to go ahead and spoil it now that Winta does not make an appearance. I love that little girl in the episode, but I just couldn’t get her to fit in this segment. Maybe she’ll appear later on in the future, I honestly don’t know how my brain works. 

Also, fun fact, this will be my 100th post 😱🥳

Links to Part 1 and Part 3 and Part 5

Photo Inspiration: (I love black and white photos if you can’t tell by now...)

Sorgan is a beautiful planet, covered in massive forests and several freshwater lakes filled with krill. There is a tiny, farming village that isolates itself in the midst of Sorgan’s swampy region which is where you hope to find Omera. Rumor has it she’d fallen in love with the community five years ago and bound her nurturing powers to the planet, shielding them against the harshness of famine and plague. Her powers also prohibited other immortals from teleporting directly into the village, even if they meant no harm, thus forcing you and Din to walk the five-mile-long road from the common house to the village boundary line.

Mud sticks to the bottom of your shoes and the humidity is absolutely murdering your hair, but you love the addictive burn of fresh air filling your lungs, the symphonic sounds of the wilderness encompassing you. Here on Sorgan, the positive attributes far outweigh the negative ones.

Din walks beside you, close enough your arm occasionally brushes against his  vambrace, and you find yourself glancing at him out of your peripheral every few steps, dazzled by how the sunlight reflects off his armor. He catches your eye more than once, inclining his head to stare back while puffing out his chest, preening like the kriffing asshole he is. Each time you swiftly turn away with a burning face, hating how his smugness changes to amusement at your inability to hold his gaze, even with the impeding visor.

You string together creative expletives in your mind, each one meant to strengthen your resolve to ignore him. Except, like clockwork, your eyes helplessly drift back over again mere minutes later, dooming you to a continuous cycle of torment and embarrassment.

At least up until you’re less than a mile from your destination and Din abruptly halts without warning. “How will I know?”

You nearly slip as you whirl around to face him, worried at first but then confused when the question registers. “Know what?”

“If I’ve met my match,” he answers, the hand branded with his soulmate marking restlessly clenching and unclenching at his side. “How will I know it’s my soulmate?”

It’s a question you’re extremely familiar with. Maker knows exactly how many times you’ve been asked it throughout your years as a Cupid, but it’s got to be nearing a couple hundred thousand at least. And yet your usual go-to answer—a speech fed to you by your bosses about the perfect plan of the universe—doesn’t feel right to give him. He deserves your own honest opinion.

The first time you ever matched two individuals, you’d naively expected literal sparks to appear when they shook hands. Or a beam of light to shine down on them from above, an unmistakable sign from the universe they were meant to be together. So you were crushed when absolutely nothing noteworthy happened, only that neither one was able to look away from each other, eyes as wide as moons and full of awe. The same kind of awe usually reserved for watching sunsets and hearing a baby’s first cry of life.

You’d realized then the exact moment soulmates experienced their connection was not something externally witnessed by the eyes of the world. It was an internal sensation felt only by the two halves finally becoming whole.

“They’re called your soulmate for a reason, Din,” you say, slowly drawing closer. You’re not truly cognizant of your actions, only your voice, and perhaps that’s why you reach out to take a hold of his gloved hand, rubbing your thumb over his leather-covered knuckles. Distantly, as if looking through a foggy window, you’re aware of the way his whole body freezes at your touch, but still you hold on, still the words keep flowing from your lips.

“The moment you shake their hand, there will be no doubt. It’ll be instant. Like you’re tasting air for the first time after being trapped underwater. Everything will be clearer, colors brighter. Your whole world will crumble apart at their feet because all that matters now is them. And the only thought you’ll be able to think is, ‘It’s you. All this time I’ve been waiting for you.’”

Din sucks in a ragged breath. It’s only barely audible because of your closeness, but it’s also just loud enough to snap you out of your daze. “Angel,” he says hesitantly. It’s your turn to freeze when he leans in, helmet pressing softly against your forehead. “Have you ever—“

You jerk backwards, cutting Din off and releasing your grip on his hand all in the same movement. Panic is swelling in your chest and you can’t stop it, clothes suddenly feeling too constricting and you force yourself to remember why you’re here on Sorgan, the importance of the mission at stake.

“We need to keep moving,” you say, looking anywhere but Din’s direction. “I don’t think the village is that much further.”

Din watches you silently, no doubt trying to make sense of your agitated state. You feel exposed, torn open at the seams with all your insecurities on full display for him to pick apart and criticize.

In the end though, he only heaves a sigh, respectfully granting you time to begin the slow process of stitching yourself back up.

“Lead the way,” Din says, gesturing towards the path with a nod of his head. “I go where you go.”

The rest of the journey would have been completed in silence, if not for how Din’s unfinished question seemed to float alongside you in the breeze, echoing in your ears.

Have you ever...

                                                 Have you ever...

                                                                                          Have you ever...

~~~

The villagers are scared of your arrival at first, panicked to be in the presence of Death. Parents clutch at their children and the elderly are ushered into huts, as if they’ll be better protected by being kept out of Din’s field of vision.

“I promise you, we don’t mean any harm,” you say, but your words do little to reassure any of them.

A woman emerges from the crowd, the only one whose expression doesn’t bear a hint of fear. Segments of her dark hair are intricately braided while the rest flows unhindered over her shoulders, long enough to nearly reach her waist. Her features are delicate, but there is strength in how she carries herself as she marches right up to you and Din, shoulders drawn back with determination.

“Omera,” you breathe, recognizing the woman for the goddess she truly is.

“Yes,” she says, sounding reluctant to confirm her identity. Her eyes flick between you and Din. “Who are you and why have you brought Death here? I have a formal agreement with the Guild that grants me permission to personally handle the passing of my people’s souls into the afterlife. Death should have no purpose here.”

This is news to you. 

Not the reference of the Guild—you’re very much aware of Greef Karga’s organization of reapers who assist Din in maintaining the natural order by collecting deceased souls on his behalf across the galaxy. Despite all the powers that come with being Death, Din is unable to be everywhere all at once. So the reapers bring the souls to Nevarro where Karga holds onto them until Din arrives to usher them into the afterlife. 

What you weren’t aware of is her claim that this village might be the one place in the whole galaxy where Death and his associates have no influence.

“I’m a Cupid. I help people find their soulmates.” You gesture to Din who stands so tense behind you, you’re not entirely certain he’s even breathing. “And currently, I’m helping him.”

The way Omera’s expression instantly brightens is almost comical. A smile grows across her face, warm and friendly as if she’s known you for years and not mere seconds. “Oh, forgive me my rudeness. That’s wonderful to hear. It’s been quite some time since we’ve had guests. Would you like something to drink?”

“Actually—” Din starts, speaking for the first time since you’ve arrived.

“Yes, I would love one,” you interrupt, digging your elbow into his side and eliciting a soft grunt. “I heard the spotchka here is exceptional.”

The villagers, who had relaxed once Omera deemed you and Din weren’t a threat, are eager to prove their reputation as spotchka brewmasters. Nothing brings people together like alcoholic beverages, and within the hour you are sitting on a log bench in the village center and chatting amicably with them.

It’s a happy, tight knit community. Omera’s nurturing powers have only further increased it’s natural conditioning as an ideal sanctuary to raise a family. Everyone knows one another and takes care of each other. You can see how easy it was for her to have fallen in love with the place.

“He’s different than I expected.” Omera interrupts your thoughts by nodding to someone behind you.

You follow her line of sight, and see Din standing distantly in a field of grass, surrounded by a squadron of younglings. He’s too far to be heard, but you can tell by the gesturing of his hands that he’s explaining to them the pieces of his armor. They’re hanging onto his every word, completely enthralled, if their wide-eyed expressions are any indication. You realize as you watch that they’ll never come to recognize Din as the true identity of Death due to Omera’s agreement with the Guild. In their eyes, he is just an interesting stranger wearing shiny metal who they can pester with an endless amount of questions.

“He’s got many layers,” you admit, turning back around before the bittersweet scene makes your heart melt into a disgusting puddle at your feet.

And it is only because you look away first that you notice how Omera’s gaze lingers just a beat too long.

“Does he ever take it off?” she asks. “The helmet, I mean.”

You hesitate, stalling by sipping at your spotchka. “Not when he’s Death.”

Omera looks at you like you’ve told her a riddle. “When is Death not Death?”

When he’s with me, the voice in the back of your head wants you to shout at her, but instead you ask, “You said earlier you handle the souls of the villagers when they pass away?” 

“They asked me if I could protect their planet for future generations,” Omera explains slowly, confusion still present in the lines of her face. “My powers are strongly connected to the growth of life, blessing both expectant mothers and nature’s saplings. After I chose to bind myself to Sorgan, the villagers offered to lend me their souls as sources of energy to further strengthen it. So now, rather than losing them to the afterlife, we continue to see those who have passed on in every blossoming flower and in each drop of rain, remaining part of our everyday lives despite their physical absence.”

“That’s beautiful,” you breathe, because it’s the truth. It’s also the confirmation you needed to hear to honestly tell her, “He wouldn’t be Death here. He’d have the opportunity to be anyone else he wanted.”

Omera lets the words sink in for a moment, then she returns to staring at Din, eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully. You don’t blame her for being curious, especially since he’s barely said anything to her, subsequently forcing you to be the sociable one. 

You thought when you both arrived he’d try harder than this to make a good first impression. Omera’s his potential soulmate, he knows this and yet it seems as if he’s doing all he can to avoid her. 

Omera startles you out of your thoughts when she abruptly inches closer to you, as if preparing to share a secret in your ear.

“You said you were helping Death find his soulmate,” Omera’s voice is no louder than a murmur, seeming uncharacteristically bashful all of the sudden as she tugs at a strand of hair. “Does he...Has he been marked?”

It occurs to you then that this whole time she’s been fishing for information from you, gradually leading up to this particular question. This is a good thing, you tell yourself, despite the sickening pit forming in your stomach. It means she hasn’t been offended by his standoffishness. 

“Yes.” Your head dips in a jerky nod. Fortunately the goddess doesn’t notice your awkwardness as she peers down at her hands folded in her lap. You know what’s there without having to see it. “We came here because I knew you’d been marked too.” 

“I’d hoped so,” she confesses, showing you her palm. “I didn’t think it was possible, someone like me having a soulmate.” An immortal, your mind deciphers her underlying meaning. “But, then again, the universe always seems to be full of surprises, right?”

Soulmate markings all resemble each other as black lines forming the shape of a heart no bigger than a bottlecap in the center of one’s palm, regardless of what the person looks like themselves. They only appear on select individuals the universe picks for reasons known only by the divine Maker. Those without marks often make the ignorant mistake of comparing them to tattoos. A soulmate mark doesn’t fade with time like ink does, remaining eternally vibrant and warm to the touch, as if there’s a tiny flame buried beneath the skin.

You’ve seen thousands of marks on thousands of hands, yet your mouth dries up at the sight of hers despite it looking no different. An unexpected tremor rocks your body, worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. It’s as if you’ve been stabbed by an invisible shard of ice, threatening to freeze you solid from the inside out.

When you speak, each word scrapes against the inside of your throat and tastes bitter on your tongue. “You should go talk to him.”

Omera’s face goes a bit pink. “You think so?”

You force yourself to smile, hoping it doesn’t resemble a grimace or, Maker forbid, a snarl. “I think you’ll never know if he’s your match unless you do.”

Not needing any more convincing, she spares you one last hopeful look before leaving to approach Din. She walks across the grassy field with unhindered grace, not once tripping over a rock or the bottom of her dress, and you can’t help feeling envious, knowing your clumsy feet wouldn’t be able to carry you three steps without an issue. You watch as she says something to the children, inducing several disappointed groans audible even from where you sit, before one by one they each depart, seeking entertainment elsewhere in the village.

Omera and Din fall into conversation, and you bite your lip, knowing you’re only making the ache hurt worse by watching but unable to tear your eyes away. Their conversation is too quiet for you to make out, but given the way Din’s body language is relaxed and without a hint of defensiveness, you’re convinced Omera’s definitely charming him.

They’ll make an attractive couple, you think before you can stop yourself. They’re similar, too, in that they both have protective streaks a mile wide when it comes to those they care about. As a divinely gifted caretaker, Omera will know just what to say to pull him out of one of his brooding episodes. She’ll soften his rough edges, lend him strength when he needs it most, and might even be able to convince him to settle down in the village where he can shed his persona as Death and actually experience life. Most importantly, though, you hope she’ll make him happy.

Because Din deserves someone who will make him happy every day of his existence.

You know it’s coming, but still your breath stutters when you see Din begin to remove his glove. He moves slowly, revealing tanned skin inch by inch as he pulls at the leather with his other hand. He has never been one to hesitate over things in the past, except when he showed you his mark that night at the train station. You really don’t want to think that Din could be nervous, but you also can’t determine any other reason explaining his behavior. Omera, for her part, is the perfect image of patience as she waits for him to initiate contact, if not for the way you spy her pulling anxiously at her brown locks again.

As Din reaches out to grab hold of Omera's hand, there is a second right before contact where his helmet shifts in your direction and you feel the intensity of his gaze cut through the distance, piercing your fragile heart.

In the next breath, an invisible explosive force sends you hurtling backwards through the air several feet. You bite your tongue when you collide with the ground and blood begins pooling in your mouth, causing you to gag at the coppery taste. Ignoring the pain emanating from your undoubtedly bruised rib cage, you force your body to roll over so you can spit out a scarlet blob onto the dirt. Gross, you think sluggishly.

Movement out of the corner of your eye has your head turning to look, but it takes several more seconds before your brain comprehends what you’re seeing.

The village looks as if a massive wind storm has swept through it in the last five seconds. Several villagers are slowly rising onto their feet, having apparently also been roughly tossed to the ground, looking just as bewildered by the state of things as you feel.

Your eyes next lock onto Din’s figure. He and Omera stand in the distance exactly where you last saw them, appearing completely unaffected by the unseen force. But rather than looking at each other with awe as all other soulmate pairs do, there is only unbridled shock on Omera’s face.

With newfound urgency, you stumble onto your feet, knowing something’s gone horribly wrong.

“Din!”

Your shout startles him enough he visibly jolts, increasing your worry tenfold.

Your feet skid to a stop closer to his body than you anticipated, nearly colliding face-first with his chest. It’s on the tip of your injured tongue to ask them what the hell just happened when Din beats you to the punch.

“What happened to you?” he demands, cradling your jaw. He’s using his gloved hand, you can’t help but notice. His other one—still uncovered from when it had touched Omera’s—is pressed firmly against the segment of armor protecting his upper thigh. His thumb starts to wipe at the blood staining the corner of your mouth, but you refuse to be tended to when there’s a bigger issue at stake.

“What happened?” you repeat incredulously, pulling away and resisting the urge to smack the side of his helmet. “I should be asking you that, idiot. Did you two match?”

Omera says nothing in response to your question, but there is something about the way she stares at you directly, like you’ve revealed a secret of the universe right in front of her, that brings back the same self-conscious feeling of being exposed you’d felt earlier.

“Look for yourself, angel,” Din answers with a tone full of scorn, gesturing widely to your surroundings with both arms. “Does any of this look like what you told me would happen?”

Taken aback by his hostile tone, you glance around the field, only to be stunned by what you’d initially failed to notice. In an almost perfect circle encompassing the three of you, the once beautifully green and luscious grass is now black and shriveled, entirely devoid of life. It crunches beneath your shoes as you nervously shift in place, eerily resembling the sound of bone breaking, and you’re beginning to understand the shock you’d glimpsed on Omera’s face.

“No,” you say, feeling slightly hysterical but doing your best to keep it out of your voice. “No, it definitely doesn’t.”

Omera had said that the universe is always full of surprises.

What a kriffing understatement that turned out to be.

Tag List: @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives​

[shyvioletcat]

for striking matches au: "It looks like you have more fun with them than with me."

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Here’s a little bit of Firefighter fun for your day.

Striking Matches Masterlist

~~~~~

Rowan sat slumped on the couch, arms crossed across his chest as he waited for Aelin to finish getting ready. It had taken him minutes to get ready, with his dark jeans and button up white shirt, a pair of lensless glasses frames tucked into the chest pocket. They were going to a Halloween party at Aedion and Lysandra’s place, and very honestly, Rowan didn’t want to go.

He and Aelin had only been going out for just a little over a month and he had met her family and friends a few times, but they definitely weren’t his friends yet. He knew what would happen tonight once they got to the party, and he would be left with two choices. One, he could follow Aelin around the whole night as she lit up the room and thrived on all the social interactions. Or two, he’d sit in a corner with a beer and watch. Considering that he’d just come off a hard shift, Rowan was feeling more inclined to do the second. The subject of him staying behind had been broached but Aelin wasn’t having it. She said it would ruin their ‘matching’ costumes and added that her friends wanted to spend more time with him. So of course Rowan relented for her. Only her.

“Alright, ready,” Aelin sang as she appeared from her bedroom. She was wearing a long black coat and a pair of black boots, her golden hair in soft waves with the ends chalked a vibrant red.

“You’re wearing that?” Rowan asked, not bothering to get up yet.

Aelin grinned at him. “No, I”m wearing this.”

She opened her jacket to show him what was underneath, and Rowan felt his eyes go wide. Aelin had decided on their costumes, they were going to the party dressed as each other professions. Rowan’s costume had been all too easy to put together, all he had to buy was a pair of cheap glasses from the discount store and pop the lenses out. Aelin had bought the entirety of hers new, unless by some design of fate she had this firefighter costume lying around. But Rowan seriously doubted that.

His eyes started at the black boots she wore – and maybe he had seen those before – but her long legs were mostly bare except for a small pair of black shorts with a trim of red on the legs and a yellow belt. A strip of her stomach was bare as well, the shirt hugged her waist and upper torso, and zip ran up the middle instead of buttons, leaving it open in a deep V as it precariously contained her cleavage. It was all topped off with a pair of suspenders that she had her thumbs hooked under as she still grinned at him.

“So, what do you think? Reckon Lorcan would let me join the team?”

Rowan blinked once before he managed to look up her face. The neckline was proving more of a distraction the longer he looked.

“Do we have to go?” Rowan blurted and Aelin tipped her head back and laughed.

“We most certainly do.” Aelin did her jacket up and grabbed her keys from the kitchen counter as well as a plastic firefighter hat. “Come on, Mr Whitethorn. Let’s go have some fun.”

Rowan was about to tell her they could have fun here, probably better fun too, but he just sighed and closed the apartment door behind him.

Aelin left her coat in the car. Rowan had parked and within seconds Aelin had deserted the car only leaving a heap of black material behind. He was quick to follow and the elevator arrived just as he got there. 

“Look at this fancy apartment building with it’s elevator,” Aelin mused as she pushed the button and then lent on the railing. “You never answered my question. You think Lorcan would let me on the team?”

Rowan turned, seeing that teasing look written on every feature of her face. “Definitely not. But that has nothing to do with the costume.”

Aelin laughed again. “You haven’t even told me if you like my costume or not. You make a very sexy Teacher if I do say so myself.”

He moved, they were chest to chest and almost touching. Then Rowan gave her a lingering once over that made Aelin breath just a little faster. Leaning in he kissed her, and he felt her smiling against his lips before she fully committed to it. The only sound was the mechanisms of the elevator, then there was the definitive sound of a zipper being pulled.

Aelin let out a comical gasp. “Mr Whitethorn, keep your hands to yourself.” 

Rowan chuckled and kissed her again, quickly, and stepped away, hands raised. 

“I was wondering how long it would take you, that was damn near obscene,” Aelin laughed, readjusting her suspenders.

He hadn’t been pulling the down, he’d been pulling it up to try and give him a little more peace of mind when he walked into the party. It was a stupid, jealous thing to do, and he expected Aelin to rip into him for it. But he was mistaken, it was all a ploy from Aelin to get his attention it seemed. The elevator arrived at the right floor and she pulled his glasses from his pocket, slipping them onto his nose before grabbing his hand and leading them out. They walked down the hallway, arriving at a door with music pulsing behind it. Aelin didn’t bother knocking and walked in, almost running into the hostess herself. Lysandra was dressed as Red Riding Hood, a bright red cape over a short green dress.

“You made it!” She nearly yelled as she hugged Aelin, obviously already a little drunk. Then her green eyes landed on him. “Nice lipstick, Rowan.”

Confused, Rowan rubbed at his mouth, his fingers coming away red. He gave Aelin an accusing look but she just grinned and rubbed away what was left of the lipstick.

“You look great,” Lysandra said, then she pointed between them. “I get it. You’re dressed as each other. Clever.”

“Thank you,” Aelin said, tucking into Rowan’s side. “Where’s Aeds?”

Lysandra waved behind her. “Somewhere. You guys have fun, now!” 

She was gone through the crowd and Rowan held onto Aelin’s hand as she led them to the drinks. He spotted Elide and a few other familiar faces, but overall there were a lot of people hadn’t seen before. Aelin waved to people she recognised, saying hello here and there, but she never let go of him. She found him a stool in a corner, letting him sit while she leaned into his chest. Aedion eventually found them, as did Elide and Lysandra, the women begging Aelin to come dance but she declined. 

Rowan could tell that she wanted to, so he leant forward and kissed her cheek. “Go have fun love, I’m fine here.”

She turned to face him then said hopefully. “You could always come dance with me.”

“I don’t think so,” Rowan said, shaking his head. 

Aelin pouted at him but she didn’t push him. “I’ll be back soon I promise.”

True to her word Aelin came back after a few dances, Rowan’s eyes had been drinking her in the whole time and she made sure to send him flirty smiles as she did. That costume combined with the way she moved was nearly driving him insane. But soon after she arrived she was dragged off again for a game of beer pong with Aedion. As a team the two cousins were unstoppable and by the time she wandered back to Rowan again she was definitely a little tipsy. She threw her arms around his neck, leaning fully into him.

“Come dance with me, please?” Aelin begged. 

That smile was almost his undoing but then a voice he actually recognised sounded from behind her.

“There you are. Not surprised to see you hiding in a corner, Whitethorn.”

Looking up Rowan saw Fenrys and Aelin turned to face him as well. 

“You made it!” She exclaimed.

It was then that Rowan took in exactly what Fenrys was wearing… or not wearing. He had worn most of his work uniform, just about everything except his shirt. Even with the jacket over the top Rowan could tell that he’s taken care to oil up his bare chest beneath, only ever so slightly covered by his suspenders. He lent his elbow on Aelin’s shoulder, and looking at the two of them they were the ones that looked like they had come dressed to match.

Fenrys tilted his head. “Who are you supposed to be? Clark Kent?”

Rowan crossed his arms over his chest but it was Aelin who answered. “No he’s a teacher. You get it?”

“Oh, yep yep. I get it,” Fenrys said nodding. “You’ve swapped professions. And, might I just say Miss Galathynius, you make a fine firefighter.” 

Aelin shoved him. “Come on, I’ll get you a drink.”

Getting a drink turned into a few dances, followed by a game of magnetic darts and then at least three songs worth of awful karaoke. In between the activities Aelin and Fenrys wandered away from each other, but always seemed to find the other again. At one point Fenrys came over to drop off his jacket now that he was getting a little warm, Rowan had even rolled his sleeves up to his elbows for a little relief.

Rowan fixed his coworker with a look. “You know you’re not supposed to wear your uniform outside of work.”

Fenrys’ reply was a shrug and a grin.

“You look like a stripper,” Rowan added and Fenrys let out an incredulous laugh.

“We all gotta live a little sometimes,” Fenrys said before disappearing to Aelin’s side again.

Rowan felt himself getting more sullen by the second, watching how Aelin and Fenrys smiled and had fun together. It was moments like this that Rowan wished he was more… sociable. More willing to put himself out there in situations like this, but instead he was sitting in a dark corner by himself, with only Fenrys’ jacket for company. Aelin wandered back to him, her hands immediately going to his face to make her look at him.

“What is it?” She asked him.

“It’s nothing,” Rowan said and she tried to shake Aelin off but she kept hold of him and just lent in closer.

“What. Is. It.”

Rowan sighed. “It looks like you have more fun with him than with me.”

Aelin smirked. “And him meaning Fenrys.”

Rowan nodded.

That smirk turned into a coy smile and she slotted herself between his legs, his hands finding her waist. “Well maybe if you got off this stool and came out to play.”

Rowan started to frown but Aelin kept his attention. “Hey, I’m kidding. I get it. Funny thing is that I invited him so you would have someone to talk to. Maybe I should have invited Lorcan instead, except he’d never say yes to me.” Rowan managed a laugh at that. “And I definitely don’t have more fun with Fen, trust me.” Aelin added earnestly.

“It certainly looks like it,” Rowan grumbled.

Aelin slid that much closer, her mouth right by his ear. “Oh yeah? Well, would I ever let him…”

She whispered in his ear, so close the breath that accompanied her words tickled his skin, making him break out in goosebumps. They were words that described something obscene about sliding on fire poles, on his fire pole to be exact. When she pulled away Aelin’s smile was feline and Rowan felt his cheeks heat.

“Can we go now, please?” Rowan’s voice was nowhere near as smooth or confident as he wanted it to be.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Aelin said. Rowan stood and went to take his glasses off but Aelin stopped him, her hands running up his arms to where his sleeves were rolled up. “You’ll be leaving those on. All night, if you please, Mr Whitethorn.” 

~~~~~

Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed this silliness. 

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[theowlhouseheadcanons]

Hey, do you think the Grom Tree will be used to make Luz's staff and palisman? Maybe they will even use the Grom Tree to make Amity's too, so that their palismans will be "siblings born by the love of their creators"? And which animal do you think would be the palisman for each of them? I accept suggestions from mythological creatures or common animals!

"siblings born by the love of their creators" got me:

I LOVE THAT CONCEPT

I've never thought about that before, but it would be really inspiring if it ever came to this.

Instead of answering it as technical analysis, allow me to present my ideas on this:

Years later, the stoic tree stands by that cliff, her leaves flicking under the sunlight, so peacefully only the ones who witnessed the moment would believe the nightmare that preceded it.

The evergreen energy used to conceive her still flowing richly through the branches, her roots impregnated with the pure and curious excitement of young love's blossoming. The breeze around it smells like nostalgia, the colossal tree an eternal milestone of those two girls' bound: The Prom Queens, the first of their titles.

Now they stand there, the memory vivid in their minds, both knowing exactly what the other is thinking through the exchange of smiles and affectionate glances.

They're no longer those little girls, discovering the world around and inside them, but grown-up women. Yes, they still young, as 18 isn't a magic number for adulthood, but it's a noticeable start. There are still so much to explore, so much to learn, and "certainty" doesn't sound right when paired with "future".

But, as everything in life has an exception, in their case it happened when both declared, at the same time, they were ready to make their staff. Eyes widening with the shook, voices chuckling with the coincidence, Luz and Amity didn't need to ask what wood they would be using. Getting up they stroll, in comfortable silence, to the Grom tree. Their tree.

The way is as familiar as their own thoughts, and they fill the air with sweet memories – countless picnics, friendly sport matches and dates they've had under that tree's shadow – inhaling the honey like scenarios and exhaling the bittersweet ache the recollection left in their hearts.

Although that, there's no remorse or regret. They're happy for keeping the past as it is, and grateful they stand where they are now. Witches, with complete degree and all. Just like they dreamed. No, better than I dreamed, they realize, as Luz feels the softening warm of Amity's fingers entangling around the refreshing coolness of hers.

They're not even looking at each other, the gesture taking almost the same effort one does to breath. How long have we come, huh?

Luz still remember how flustered Amity used to be around her, babbling and exchanging words and meanings she awkwardly rushed to fix. She could feel the Blight's skin tingling under the slightest touch, and more than often Luz had to hold her urge to raise an eyebrow. She had to, but not to spare Amity some sort of judgement, but to avoid bringing up her own feelings.

The way Amity's laugh – the real, giggling one – tingled in her stomach, making her want to hear it more and more; or how deep Amity's gold eyes could be, like a maze of silk she found herself slipping into and getting lost rather easily, rather willfully; The magnetic effect the Blight girl had, putting Luz through an internal battle to avoid her hands to obey those curious thoughts that invaded her mind – to hug Amity in greeting, to bring her face up whenever she dropped it, to place her hand in hers when they sat next to each other...

Now all the ankward moments serves as good laugh during supper, and both agree they would do everything again, just the same. Well, maybe a few alterations in their first kiss, but that is a story for another time.

In that moment, facing the colossal trunk of the magical tree, they had choices to make.

***

Okay so I have a couple of ideas for their Palisman, but all those suggestions will be based on their actual character + some speculations of my own about their future selves.

(it's really hard to get to any conclusion, as there's just to much to happen yet! And plot twists are more than likely to happen... But that's the fun!)

Amity is a layered character and that's why we love her. She's the kind of person that wears a distant and indifferent mask, but deep down, she feels and cares a lot. She lived through a series of traumas that pushed her deeper inside that shell, sharpening her edges on the exterior and opening a lonely room on the inside – but she knew well to deceive that image from people's mind and play the Little Miss Perfect role. It will demand a lot of effort to confront her fears, to raise her voice to defend what she wants and who she is, but eventually, she'll break free and finally brave her own path.

With such a journey of self-reinvention, I couldn't run away from the cliche of a butterfly which I don't like because it's cliche, but for Amity, I also thought: spiders (specially the ones that will cause fear even though they doesn't harm humans) deers (their majestic appearance and inferred strength, more associated to her mature phase) and swans (we all know about the ugly duckling tale and how it overcomes that confuse part of their life and assume their true, elegant and free self. Plus, they're mostly pacific, but will attack if they feel their territory, their mates or themselves are being threatened)

For Luz, the automatic was Otter! (And going through some research, they end up being the perfect choice for Luz: they're not just cute, but intelligent, crafty animals that like to play and knows how to have some fun in their habitat. Also, they might seem adorable, which they are, but can cause some good harm if provoked or threatened! Plus, they're a social species, and you can consider them very "touchy" with their mates)

Apart from it, I thought about some bird species – major influences from Eda and her whole concept of freedom – and the most likely are Jays (energetic and capable of making choices according to how they'll feel in the future) Macaws (loving and comical personalities, advanced social intelligence) and Kea (crafty parrots with an inclination to cause havoc, being known as "Clown of the Alps", true troublemakers)

And those are my guesses! What do you guys think?

[bitchiha]

Teehee, could you do a headcanon in how Kakashi would react if he was out at a bar with his friend he’s crushing on and he let something close to “I love you” slip out in front of her (bonus points if she ends up feeling the same?) Omg it would mean the world ❤️

A warm glass of confessions (Kakashi x reader)

A/N: I got you luv, this is a wee bit short but it’s okay because I think it’s cute. This is by far the fluffiest bullshit I think I’ve ever written and I was so tempted to turn it into smut just because my brain is fried like that, but I refrained. Also I kinda changed up the request a little bit.

Warnings: drinking?? Not proofread ahaha 😆

—————

Love was something that burned harsher on Kakashis tongue than the alcohol that poured down his throat.

He thought his ability to love was wilted beyond repair after everything he endured growing up. But when he was with you it felt as if that tiny dried up plant grew to be as lush as a forest. And sitting here now, the two of you sipping your nth glass of Sake at the bar, the alcohol thrumming through his body felt more then inclined to tell you that.

You two had just come back from a mission with Team 7, Lady Tsunade assigned you to the team because of your jutsu’s compatibility with the mission at hand. What she didn’t realize was that you may not have been so compatible with the bickering of three teenagers on the road. It was a tiresome mission and you couldn’t quite believe that Kakashi managed to handle them on a daily basis...

“You did good with them.” He mumbled as he dragged his cup to his lips, downing the glass and ordering another with a simple wave of his hand to the bar tender.

“Think so?” You hiccuped, “I sorta wanted to rip my hair out most of the mission.” You laughed and to emphasize your point you bunched you’re hands in your hair, almost knocking your glass over in the process.

He grinned stupidly, shrugging as the bar tender slid him his next glass. “They always talk about you, you know?” There was a long pause and it felt as if Kakashi was trying to remember what he wanted to say, waving his hand in a circular motion as if that would help. “I think they were really excited.. to finally show off their skills to you on a real mission.”

Showing off their skills was a bit of an understatement. The minute Team 7 came into contact with the enemy, Sai began to eagerly carry out the plan. Naruto of course, was angry at Sai for carrying out the plan so well that he decided to take matters into his own hands and attempted a crazy justu he was not ready to do. Sakura was angry at him for embarrassing the team infront of you and took it upon herself to punch them both into the ground, despite Sai being innocent in the situation. Ultimately, it was you and Kakashi who had to do all the work, but the two of you communicated well together and the mission was finished quickly.

Nonetheless, after it was over you both needed some way to de stress from the overbearing presence of three angry teens, so you opted to treat Kakashi to a drink at the bar. A drink turned into a couple and a couple turned into a mass of glasses slowly swallowing the counter; Leading to the state you two were in now.

There was a comfortable silence as the two of you contemplated his comment in drunken stupors. You thought about how pink Sakura’s hair was as you began to pick at your own. Meanwhile, every bone in Kakashis body was screaming at him to say I love you, I love you, I love you! He was lucky he was there was one thread of sobriety barely managing to hold himself back.

You gave him a smile, dopey and dripping with sake, yet still managing to make his heart swell, “We work really well together, don’t you think?”

Nodding in agreement he ran a had through his hair. “We do, and I like working with you.. a lot.” The words were rushed off his tongue in a hazed slur, as if they could feel their presence was unwelcomed and wanted to escape as fast as possible.

You could see the embarrassment on his face. “Oh yeah?” You mused, looking at him with a little glint in your eyes. Your pupils looked like dark liquid, sparkles of ice swimming around the rim of your irises as you continued to speak. “I like working with you too, you’re a good..” you paused in the middle of what you were saying before continuing, “a good friend.”

The word friend looked like it stung him and as if that look wasn’t enough, the liquid consuming his body decided that he should clutch his chest for added measure. “Friends?”

“What’s wrong with...” hiccup, “being friends? Don’t you wanna be my friend?” You looked hurt, but in an almost comical sense — it made him laugh.

“I wanna be more than just friends, y/n.” He said in an almost childish voice.

Before the statement could sober either of you up, his body forced him to shake out the rest of his feelings, “it’s just like.. you’re so like.. pretty.. and funny and smart and strong and.. you’re such a dream... I just want to bottle you up and keep you all to myself.” He said the last bit with his arms cradling his emptied glass to his chest.

His confession made you feel warm and cold and as if your body was buzzing yet perfectly still all at once. Brain swimming you burst out with your own confession. “I think Ive been thinking of you like that too!”

You stared at eachother with wide eyes of realization. If it wasn’t for the bar tender sliding Kakashi his next glass, the two of you might have stayed frozen like that the whole night, with faces burning with more than just the alcohol.

Pity you two wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 13

I’m so sorry this update took so long, I have no excuse it just took me a while to make Aelin do what I wanted her to do! As usual I hope you enjoy, things get a bit more exciting from here!

masterlist - ao3

-- 

Her first kiss wasn’t her favourite memory. She was fifteen, and at a bowling alley of all places for Lysandra’s birthday. It had been with a guy called Nox and he had tentatively pressed his chapped lips to hers for a second before pulling away. Their feet had been a solid foot apart and he had all but ran from her as soon as it was done. 

She liked to think her kisses had only improved from then; as much as he was a dick, Arobynn had been a pretty decent kisser when he could be bothered to offer her any kind of affection. 

Rowan’s kiss had been something different though. 

His lips had been gentle but insistent against her own, and she hadn’t been able to help the soft sighs and the gentle moan that had slipped out of her. He knew what he was doing, and she hadn’t doubted him in all the times she had imagined kissing him, but she had still been pleasantly surprised. 

He had kissed her confidently and she had been taken, perfectly content to let him take control and kiss her strongly, to steal her breath and tilt her head. She hadn’t been like that with Arobynn, but she vowed for that to be the last time she would compare the two. 

She had spent the whole night struggling to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the phantom touch of Rowan’s lips against her own filled her mind, she swore she could still feel the spike of heat where his fingertips had brushed, ever so gently, against her thigh. 

She was still blushing from the sensation of his fingers lightly tugging her hair and the groan it had elicited from her throat when she woke, barely rested after hours of tossing and turning with her mind unable to fully switch off. 

She wanted to see him, wanted to kiss him again, wanted him to kiss her and take control again. 

But she needed to be careful. As much as she longed to throw caution to the wind, and to cross the hall and plant herself in his bed, to press herself against his side and lay herself bare for him, she needed to make sure she knew exactly what she was going for. 

She felt confident enough to guess that the attraction between them was mutual, he hadn’t shied away from roaming his hands along her skin and it wasn’t like she was blind to the way he watched her. 

But he had been the one to walk away from the kiss. 

In the quiet of the hall last night she likely would have been inclined to follow had he invited her to his bed. But he hadn’t. And as much as Rowan was sometimes reserved, sometimes quiet where she was loud and brash, he wasn’t quite shy. He had a quiet kind of confidence to him that she expected him to have asked her to join him if that was what he wanted. 

That left her with only one choice. 

-- 

She pounded her fist against the door and each sound was blow to her head, a telltale sign she had drunk more than she ought to the night before. She hadn’t realised the sensation in her head was likely due to more than just her lack of sleep, she had drank more last night than she had in a while. Aelin lessened her knocking, and changed tact to call through the door. 

“Can I come in?” She half whispered, not wanting to disturb any of the other occupants of the loft. “It’s important.”

She heard the rustling of bed sheets before the voice of the room’s occupant spoke.

“What, Aelin?” Her cousin sounded only mildly irritated to be woken up relatively early after the state he had been in last night. She bit back a snort at the thought of how hilarious her cousin had been after a few too many drinks. 

He hadn’t been the only one to make her laugh; she had taken more than a liking to Elide. The woman was feisty and sarcastic. Her sense of humour gelled well with Aelin’s and she knew she’d have to get her number from Lorcan. 

“Aedion, I need to speak to Lysandra.”

Immediately her friend’s voice sounded. “Come in Ae.”

She pushed the door open and quickly shut it behind herself. She took in where her cousin and best friend lay, both clearly unclothed beneath the sheets if the way the dark blue sheet was tucked up high was anything to go by, resting just under each of their chins. She deliberately looked only at her best friend. 

“I need to speak to you,” She announced before risking a glance toward Aedion. “Alone.”

He barked out a laugh. “This is my room.”

She shot him an incredulous look; this was important, did he not realise that?

Lysandra only patted her boyfriend on the shoulder and tilted her head towards the door. Aelin grinned as Aedion began to move, but spun around quickly to face the wall, she wasn’t keen to see her cousin naked. 

“Thank you,” She called teasingly and he only grumbled under his breath as he shucked on his clothes and poked her side before heading out of the doorway and into the kitchen. 

She waited until his protests faded, until his reminder that ‘you have your own room you know’ was far enough from them that she didn’t think he would be able to hear her, before turning to Lysandra and placing herself, cross-legged, at the end of Aedion’s bed.

“Someone’s grumpy this morning,” She said, only a hint of mockery coloured her tone. 

Lysandra laughed. “Always. Now not that I’m complaining, you know you’re my favourite Ashryver, but what’s so important you had to kick him out at this time?”

Aelin found herself unable to fully hold back her smile, even though she tried, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth slightly. 

She wanted to smile both at Lysandra’s reassurance of her place as the superior Ashryver, and at the news she had been waiting to drop since she had closed her door last night, but faced with her waiting best friend she became… almost nervous. 

She mostly hoped Lysandra wouldn’t immediately jump to the wrong conclusions. Aelin knew the situation was slightly messy, but she was happy, she had kissed Rowan, and she wanted at least a morning before she had to face the consequences, whatever they might be.

She could feel her face heating as she thought through exactly how to fill Lysandra in on what had gone down since their disastrous game of truth or dare. 

“So,” She looked down to her knees where they crossed beneath her and took a breath. “Rowan kissed me.”

Lysandra’s green eyes widened almost comically as she sprung up in the bed, only half remembering to keep the sheet pressed to her chest. A coil of dark hair managed to hide what the sheet exposed.

“He what?” She shrieked. 

Aelin shushed her quickly. She didn’t want Aedion, or worse, any of her other roommates coming to see what the commotion was.

“He kissed me,” She said, pressing her hands to her cheeks. She still felt slightly giddy when she thought about it and she doubted the feeling would fade soon.

It had been an end to the night that she hadn’t seen coming; she had still been reeling from his rejection when she found herself face to face with him in the hall. He had surprised her. She supposed all she had been expecting when she saw him was a depressing explanation of his reasons for not wanting to kiss her, but what she had received had been so much better. 

“When did this happen?” Lysandra demanded, her mouth opened slightly in an excited smile. 

“Last night,” Aelin said, still trying to reel in her excitement so not to squeal like a high-schooler after their first kiss. “After everyone went to bed.”

Lysandra’s grin took on a dark edge, “And was it just a kiss?”

“Yes,” She tutted. “Just a kiss.”

“Was it a good kiss?”

“Lys,” She said simply, still fighting against her smile. It was all she needed to say for Lysandra to shake her head with a grin. “It was like he was a man and I was a woman and he just took me and kissed me and I was gone.”

“Aelin Galathynius,” Lysandra shook her head, still smiling along with her. “Who could have foreseen this?”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” She deadpanned, tugging threateningly on the sheet Lysandra still held against herself. 

“What does this mean then?” Her friend asked, and truthfully? She wasn’t sure. 

Rowan had left her last night, in the hallway, with his killer getaway line. While it had reassured her that he didn’t just not want to kiss her, it hadn’t given her much more to go off. It hadn’t clued her into whether or not he wanted to kiss her again, or whether he wanted to do anything more than kiss her. 

“I’m not sure,” She started but Lysandra spoke again when she sensed Aelin didn’t have anything more concrete.

“Did he say what it meant?”

She breathed out a laugh. “All he said was, and I quote, ‘I didn’t want the first time I kissed you to be for some stupid game’.”

Lysandra nodded before she grinned. “The first time he kissed you? Means he was definitely planning on doing it at some point, with or without the stupid game.”

Aelin smiled again, she had had the same thought, and hearing the confirmation from Lysandra was almost dizzying in its relief. And if she allowed herself to admit; excitement. 

She wondered when he would have kissed her if Elide hadn’t dared him to do so. She knew she and Rowan had been dancing around the edge of something for a while now and she couldn’t stop the desire building within her for something more. Had he not been her roommate, and had there not been such dire consequences if it ended badly, she might have made a move by herself at this point. 

But, she supposed, if she had this hold up he probably did too, and she sighed. There lay their issue. 

They lived together, and she was happy living there. She didn’t want to lose him, or the other guys in the loft, if she went for it and it ended badly. She could accept that if anything happened she would have to be the one to leave the loft, Rowan had lived there first and was far closer to the other guys than her. 

Lysandra, as always, could see right through her. 

“I think you need to talk to him.”

The door swung open behind her and she turned around to berate Aedion for interrupting when Lysandra let out a squeak and threw herself further under the covers. 

“Fenrys, knock!” Her friend yelled. 

The offender only raised a hand to cover his eyes before stepping into the room as well as he could while blind. “I’m not even looking.”

She heard Lysandra’s scoff behind her and raised an eyebrow at her friend, still lingering in the doorway. It only worked in his favour, she reminded herself, when he didn’t respond to her non-verbal prompt. 

“What?” She asked. 

“Can I see yet?” He asked and Aelin rolled her eyes before turning to Lysandra. Her friend snuggled deeper into Aedion’s bed, making sure she was covered, before offering Aelin a thumbs up. 

“Yes, now why are you in here?” She asked, before adding; “Interrupting.”

Fenrys only grinned and dropped his hand from his eyes, undeterred as he stepped forwards. 

“We need toilet paper, and it’s your turn to buy.”

Aelin blinked. She couldn’t believe him. What was it with guys in the loft and not realising this was serious? Just when she and Lysandra had got to the really important part, the part where Lysandra was going to give Aelin the advice she desperately needed. 

“This was why you barged in here? Toilet paper?” Lysandra was equally as incredulous as Aelin.

Fenrys shot her a look that just read duh. 

“You two use the most, and you,” He pointed to Lysandra, “don’t even live here.”

Lysandra shrugged, unbothered. Lysandra was now a fixture of the loft the same as any of the official residents. Her place as Aelin’s best friend and Aedion’s girlfriend gave her unlimited access and Aelin wouldn’t be surprised if she had already had a key cut. 

“Not exactly true,” Aelin said, but smiled at him. “Could you not go, just this once? For me, please?”

She was sure he definitely owed her at least one favour for some reason or another. 

“Aelin, please.” She looked away from where he had attempted to dial the charm all the way up. “I’ll come with you.”

She weighed it up. 

“Is Rowan up?” She asked. 

A splash of confusion crossed Fenrys’ at her abrupt and seemingly out of nowhere question, but he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

She sighed, it probably wouldn't take long. And Rowan wasn’t working today, so he’d be here for her to talk to when she got back. 

“Fine, but we’ll be quick.” She said, standing up before turning back to Lysandra. “We’ll carry this on later?”

Lysandra saluted her from her position still tucked into Aedion’s pillows.

--

Rowan swung the toy up and across his chest, before sweeping it backwards and over his body to the other side. Hellas pounced on him, diving onto the planes of his chest with his claws outstretched before leaping off and attacking the small snake toy with the ferocity of a lion. 

Rowan scratched the tiny beast on the head, receiving only a mild purr in response as the kitten curled into the space between his side and the arm he had slung across the back of the sofa, clutching the now loose toy in his small claws. He stifled a yawn, not wanting to disturb the kitten who had cemented his position as the prime of the loft in a matter of days. 

He had barely slept last night, hadn’t been able to get his mind to shut up for more than a minute before it was back onto images of Aelin from the night before. The soft pink of her nightgown, only a shade lighter than the blush gracing her skin, the swell of her lips after he had pulled back from the kisses they shared to draw a breath. A tug in his lower stomach noted, with a kind of purely male satisfaction, that he had been the one to make her look like that. Freshly kissed and sexy as hell. 

He hadn’t been able to stop replaying the gentle moan that had slipped through her lips when he had pressed the hard line of his body even tighter against her, and in combination with the memory of the way her fingernails had scraped against his scalp, he had pressed his pillow firmly across his face and hoped that would be good enough. He would no doubt be questioned if he had snuck off for a cold shower at three in the morning. 

Her lips had been gentle against his own, only pausing for a second before kissing him back. 

That, he supposed was the detail his mind kept snagging on. He hadn’t expected her to return the gesture, and had already readied himself for damage control, before her hand had crept up and tangled through the strands of hair at the base of his neck, locking him to her. It had given him the confidence to sweep his tongue into her mouth, and the taste of Aelin on his tongue had sent a pulse of something hot burning through him. 

He had imagined kissing Aelin any number of times, had imagined a soft peck after taking her to dinner, had imagined pressing scorching kisses down from her lips to her neck as he pulled her bra straps down her shoulders. He had even imagined kissing her only to be rejected, had imagined her as stiff as a board while he pressed his lips to her own. 

The reality had surpassed any of the scenarios he had been able to come up with. 

Kissing Aelin had been everything he had expected it to be and more; soft and sweet, hot and intense. He could at least admit to himself that he wanted to do it again. Wanted to do more than kiss her, if she would have him. 

But Aelin deserved more than that. 

She deserved more than a hook-up with her roommate. She deserved flowers, and a knock on the door at eight o’clock sharp. She deserved to be romanced, with petals and love proclamations scrawled across little notes. Aelin deserved to be swept off her feet.

After that piece of shit Arobynn, who Rowan had to constantly remind himself was out of her life now, Aelin deserved everything. 

Fuck. 

He guessed that was why he had panicked, why he had crept back to his room before she had had a chance to speak. It was the cowards approach, but he couldn’t believe he had done it, that he had kissed her, and he had needed a moment to compose himself. 

He sighed, a long and cathartic release of the pressure that had built up inside him since the night before. It had been an eventful night.

“You alright?” Aedion’s question was teasing where it came from behind him. 

Rowan rolled his head back along the cushions of the sofa to shoot his friend a look. Aedion laughed. 

“Yeah, me too,” He said as he gently lowered himself to the seat beside Rowan, dropping a gentle scratch along the spine of the kitten still tucked into his side. Hellas had long since fallen asleep, but Rowan knew Aedion was just as powerless as he was against the kitten. All of them were. “You look how I feel. Never let me drink that much again.”

Rowan snorted. “You were fine when I was serving you, you can blame Fenrys for this.” He waved a hand to where Aedion cringed into his seat, fingertips massaging his temples as his eyes drifted shut. 

“I’ll blame you all,” Aedion said finally, his eyes shut tightly.

A moment of silence passed before Rowan asked, “You the first one up?” 

He hadn’t seen anyone else this morning, well afternoon now, but most importantly he hadn’t had a chance to speak to Aelin. Her bedroom door had been open when he woke, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found and he supposed he would have to play the waiting game. 

“Nah,” Aedion said. “Aelin kicked me out of my own room at gods know what fucking time this morning to speak to Lysandra then left, also hideously early, with Fenrys. And I haven’t seen Lorcan. Not entirely convinced he spent the night here.”

A surprisingly long run down given the state he was in and Rowan caught the twitch of his brow at the effort required to sustain such a long conversation. He would have laughed if he didn’t feel similar. 

He hadn’t drank that much, and it definitely wasn’t enough that he could have blamed his kiss with Aelin on the alcohol if she was unhappy. 

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to wipe his mind clear. 

“You think Lorcan went home with Elide?”

Aedion offered half of a shrug, then winced at the motion. 

“Not sure, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had. But then again, it is Lorcan.” He paused, letting his hands drop from his temples but his eyes stayed closed. “We’re agreed that all the moaning he did, he’s just into her, right?”

“One hundred percent.” Rowan nodded slightly, cursing the sharp spikes the motion sent through his head. He took a pause before saying; “The captain seemed to quite like him too though.”

“Can’t understand why,” Aedion laughed. “She was nice, attractive, and could actually hold a conversation, unlike-” 

“I know what you’re about to say and don’t bother.”

Rowan had missed Lorcan’s entrance before he spoke, but the gravel of his voice cut through Aedion’s words like a knife. He then didn’t miss the heavyweight throwing himself between him and Aedion. His roommate swept the kitten up to plunk Hellas on his own chest as he too collapsed into the cushions. 

“I didn’t sleep with the captain,” Lorcan almost growled. “And her name is Elide.”

“Sorry, boss.” 

Rowan felt the slap Aedion swung at Lorcan’s shoulder and felt his lips tilt up. It had been a while since they had all festered like this after a night of drinking and it sent him back to college. Even though Lorcan hadn’t been to college with the three of them, they had met soon after, and it hadn’t been long before the four of them had moved into a smaller apartment outside of Rifthold. Their college antics had continued for a while after that, drinking to excess and being straight up gross the next day. 

They didn’t do it often anymore. He was desperately avoiding the knowledge that as they neared thirty it was getting harder and harder to recover and, apart from Rowan, they all had proper jobs now that didn’t allow for being out of action for a whole day afterwards. 

He lay back, settling into the amiable silence with his friends, and he closed his eyes. He was content to lie there for however long, but it could only have been seconds before the peace was interrupted by the buzzing of a phone. 

His phone, with Aelin’s contact photo lighting up the screen. 

-- 

There was a beeping coming from somewhere down the hallway. It was kind of getting on her nerves at this point, but she didn’t want to stray from her place at Fenrys’ side to go and complain about it, she could try to tune it out as best as she could. It didn’t matter that he wore an easy grin, exuding an unbothered energy by the turn their day had taken, she wouldn’t leave him. 

Aelin didn’t know how it had happened; one minute they had been traipsing the aisles of the local supermarket searching for the one item they had come for, and the next Fenrys was sprawled on the floor, a steady stream of blood flowing from a gash in the side of his hand. 

She hadn’t seen the spill on the floor in time to warn him, and had only been able to watch in horror as he had slid straight into a display case of bottles of some kind of wine. The glass had shattered across the floor, sending floods of fizzing liquid across the tiles in waves as Fenrys clattered to the ground, arms braced in front of himself to cushion the fall. 

The staff at the supermarket had offered them rolls and rolls of blue tissue paper to stem the bleeding but Aelin had taken one look at the wound and knew, from her very limited medical knowledge mostly gained from television programmes, that it would need stitches. They had taken an Uber to the emergency room and ended up waiting in this room for a doctor to come and stitch up Fenrys’ hand. She wasn’t sure how long they had been there, but it definitely hadn’t been what Aelin had meant when she had emphasised the need for their trip to be quick. 

She sighed as she shifted in the hard plastic seat placed next to the bed Fenrys relaxed into. He caught the expression. 

“I’m sorry,” The quirk of his lips didn’t diminish. “I really was trying to be quick.” Cheeky.

“It’s not your fault,” She dismissed him quickly. “I just wish this doctor would come sooner, I have better things to do today.”

“Like what?” He prompted. “Are you seeing Dorian?”

She narrowed her eyes at the way he always seemed to work Dorian into their conversations. “No. Why?”

“No reason.” He spoke far too quickly for it to be casual, but before she could speak the door behind her swung open and a doctor strode in. 

“Fenrys Moonbeam?” He asked, his voice curling smoothly around the words. “Dr Sam Cortland, now let’s see what we can do about that hand.”

--

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@maybekindasortaace​

@slytheringalathynius​

@http-itsrebecca​

@morganofthewildfire​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@fictional-horan​

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows​

@sleeping-and-books​

@perseusannabeth​

@ireallyshouldsleeprn​

@superspiritfestival​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

@spyofthenightcourt​

@jlinez​

@queen-of-glass​

@booknerdproblems​

@sjmships​

@elriel4life​

@bamchickawowow​

@woollycat22​

@claralady​

@illyrianwitchling​

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09​

@darlinminds​​

@bookittothelibrary1​ <- this came up as the url please let me know it its not right

@thenerdandfandoms​​

@danibutterr​