#always down to draw a rarepair that someone really likes

[thilsiktonix]

your art is lowkey so cute and id love to see edgar and p03 together in your artstyle (if you want to of course ^_^)

ok so by. the time I realized I was going a bit too crazy on what I said would be an "ms paint doodle", I was already in too deep... ;;;;

when I first saw the ask it was 3 hours old, now it's 6 hours, I can't believe I spent 3 hours on MS paint xDD

anyways I still hope you enjoy :3c !!!! I had a bit too much fun on this one

p.s., I'm probably going to only draw solo - Edgar requests from here on. you're still totally free to send in whatever Edgar-related requests you have but I'll probably just do smaller stuff for the rest of these :)

[trohpi]

regulily microfic [cross-posted on ao3]

@marauders-rarepair-fics • june 3: slytherin • 769 words

“Are you alright?” a curious voice breaks the careful silence in the secluded corner of the library.

Regulus flinches and ducks his head, quickly wiping at his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m fine.”

“You really don’t look it.” The intruder— because that’s what they are, Regulus thinks bitterly— has an accent. Irish, or maybe Scottish, he can’t quite tell.

“Well, I am,” he replies tightly. “So go away.”

“Mm, I don’t think I will,” the stranger says promptly before plopping down on the floor next to him. Regulus’ brow furrows in indignation and he whips his head up with a fierce glare, finally getting a good look at whoever had the gall to encroach on his space.

The first thing he notices is how pretty she is.

The girl is his age, or maybe a little older, and she’s wearing a Gryffindor tie. The colours draw out the deep reds of her auburn hair, which is pulled into a simple braid that falls over her shoulder. Her head is tilted as she looks at him searchingly, though when they make eye contact she smiles, her jade eyes bright and keen.

“Hello,” she says, sticking her hand out to shake. “I’m Lily Evans, second year. I don’t recognise you, so you must be a first year, right?”

Regulus ignores her hand. “I said go away.”

“I know.” She drops her hand back into her lap. “What’s your name?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he sniffs haughtily, though the effect is rather ruined by his teary eyes and splotchy cheeks.

“It became my business when I stumbled upon you crying in my spot in the library.”

It is moments like this that Regulus curses his pale skin, which turns a mortifying shade of red at her words. “Oh, your spot? Pardon me, I didn’t realise Madam Pince gave you ownership of these particular bookshelves.”

Lily levels him a stern look. “This corner is pretty much abandoned. My best mate and I are the only people ever back here regularly, so yeah, it’s my spot.”

“Typical Gryffindors, thinking the whole world revolves around the two of you,” Regulus says, fiddling with his sleeve in embarrassment.

“My best mate is a Slytherin,” she corrects, and Regulus’ whole world stops.

A Slytherin? Best friends with a Gryffindor…?

“What?” he asks dumbly, and Lily huffs impatiently.

“He’s not in Gryffindor, he’s in Slytherin.”

“And you’re still friends with him?”

Lily blinks at him for a second before some wave of understanding passes through her face and she softens.

“Of course I am. His House doesn’t change who he is.”

Regulus swallows thickly, looking away. “My brother said he hates me because I’m in Slytherin, and he’s in Gryffindor.”

“Well, your brother’s an idiot,” Lily says bluntly. “Anyone that hates people because of their House is a fool.”

Something in Regulus’ chest warms and he lets out a wet-sounding laugh, wiping at his eyes. “Well, Sirius has always been a bit thick.”

“Sirius?” Lily blinks, sitting upright in shock. “Your brother is Sirius Black?”

“Er, yeah. I’m Re—”

“Regulus, I know. Black wouldn’t shut up about his baby brother finally starting school the entire ride here.”

“Oh, lovely,” Regulus sighs, face warming for an entirely different reason now. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the bookshelf behind him. “He’s both humiliated and disowned me within my first few days of school.”

There’s a moment of contemplative silence before Lily declares, “I’ve got to smack some sense into your brother.”

Regulus’ eyes fly open in horror.

“Wha— No!” he exclaims, scrambling off the floor to follow a fiercely determined Lily, who is already standing as she smooths out the wrinkles of her skirt.

“Someone has to. He cares about you, he’s just too pigheaded to see that,” she turns to Regulus, her green gaze fiery and brilliant and piercing in a way that makes him want to squirm. “Besides, that’s what friends are for, right?”

Regulus’ gut swoops. Is that what they are? Friends? He’s never had any friends— not if you don’t count Kreacher— but he’s also never felt like this about anyone, so he assumes they must be.

He nods once, just for a second, a quick show of acceptance for the hand she’s clearly extending. Lily beams at him and her smile is intense and warm, just like the rest of her.

“Brilliant. Be back in a jiff, then.”

Regulus blinks, his mind piecing together the meaning behind her words just in time for her to leave their secluded space. Then, he’s chasing after her.

“Wait, Lily, don’t…!”

[subjecta5newtella]

some nalby for @mazerunner-rarepairs month - AU square

It’s late evening after a light post-season practice, and Alby and Newt are headed for the dining hall when Minho catches up with them. 

“Alby!” he calls, jogging over and blocking their exit from the soccer fields. 

Alby sighs. “What?”

“Three of the freshmen challenged Thomas and I to a scrimmage, and everyone else has already left.”

“I’ve already cooled down, I’m not going to start running again.”

“Aw, come on. Thomas and I could beat them two-on-three, but that’ll damage their morale.”

“Call someone else back, then. I’m done for the day.”

Technically, he’s done in general. He’s a graduating senior who doesn’t have to come to practice at all anymore, but as the outgoing captain, he still feels a sense of responsibility. And maybe he’s not quite ready to let go, but that’s another thing entirely. Still, he draws the line at getting all sweaty again because of Minho’s pride or whatever. 

In a stunning display of self-restraint, Minho concedes that battle, then turns. “Hey, Newt?”

“What?”

“If we all promise to go easy on you, do you wanna join?”

Alby catches the exact moment when something sparks to life in Newt’s eyes.

It’s probably a bad idea. Newt can run on his bad leg, but only short distances, and his ankle and hip both have a tendency to hurt the next day. The shift in his balance makes dribbling more challenging than it used to be—he can do it, but it’s not the simple thing it once was. Newt knows all that intimately, of course, but Alby also knows he misses soccer like nothing else, had spent an evening on the bathroom floor in tears between bouts of throwing up vodka on the anniversary of the day he’d been told he’d never play competitively again. He’s a student coach now, and a damn good one in Alby’s (admittedly biased) opinion, but that’s far from the same. 

“You’ll go easy on me, eh?” Newt says, with a smile that looks a little dangerous.

“Well, you know, it’s been a while, we don’t want you to overexert yourself.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to convince me to play against you.”

“Aw, come on. The freshmen are getting way too cocky.”

“Fine. But if you mention anything about going easy on me again, I’m betraying you and joining them.”

He hands his backpack over to Alby, who can’t help but say, “Be careful.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine.” He jogs out onto the field, managing his limp with relative smoothness.

Thomas does a little bit of a double take when he sees Newt joining them, but he drops back to take up a position on his right. He’d played right midfielder when he’d transferred to their school, before Newt had moved him to the left to cover a skill gap, and that combination of Thomas and Minho on their left flank had scored them the game winning goal in conference championships. 

It’s not just Alby’s biased opinion, really. Newt’s a good coach. He’s already gotten an offer to stay on next year as a paid position, and he’s probably going to take it, which means Alby needs to find a job here, even though neither of them have actually talked about that out loud. It’s the two of them. It’ll always be the two of them. 

A couple minutes into the scrimmage, Newt strips the ball from George and sends it up to Minho to do the rest of the running, and in that fast, fluid movement, Alby remembers the way he used to be. Starting lineup, number five, center forward. Quick. Vicious. Glorious. Other teams complained about facing him, and every time they did, Alby felt a stab of pride. People watched him, people admired him, but there were times when Newt would pull off something impossible and look back with a smile that was sharp and wild and beautiful and Alby had known it was for him.

Alby loves this version of Newt without question and he knows he will for the rest of his life, but sometimes it’s hard not to mourn the way things were supposed to be. It’s selfish, maybe. His life is not the one most affected. Knowing it’s selfish doesn’t stop him from feeling it sometimes, 

Newt’s alive, though, which is something Alby doesn’t take for granted, and in the present moment he’s celebrating Minho’s goal. It’s a little tasteless, maybe, but it’s also their first time playing together since sophomore year and they’ve already scored, so they might be entitled.

The game continues and Alby loses himself in it, watching the way Newt and Minho click back into being a solid offensive unit, how Thomas works well with the two of them even in a position that he hasn’t played in a while. It’s easy to forget that he and Newt have never actually played together. They’re a good team. They could’ve been a great one, but that’s the kind of unproductive reasoning Alby tries to shut down whenever Newt gets caught up in it, so he does his best to close it off within himself as well. 

After about ten minutes, Newt slows, then stops, mimes bowing out. He joins Alby on the sidelines as the others keep messing around, retying his hair as he does. “Can’t keep up with the youth anymore.”

“Hurt?”

“Nah. Just old. No stamina anymore.”

Alby’s not sure he believes that, because Newt’s barely even breathing hard, but Alby lets it go because he also doesn’t look like he’s in pain, either. He’ll take an excuse over a breaking point any day.

“You looked good out there,” Alby says, handing Newt’s backpack back to him. 

Newt gives him a sarcastic little salute. “Thanks, Captain. I was awaiting your approval.”

“Shut up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Newt says, then after a moment adds, “Thanks.”

Things will never be what they used to be. It’s a waste of time to pretend otherwise. But he has Newt, and Newt has him, and they’ll get through together. They always do. 

Alby laces his fingers through Newt’s, and they head off for dinner. 

[afreakingdork]

The last two aenem chapters have struck me beyond ways. There's a lot I'd like to talk about, but the main thing is how beautiful it is to have someone with such disposal and genuine want of being with you that they take the time to teach you new things, to listen and comfort and *wait*.

When skateboarding Mikey first made Kendra loosen up by swinging her around the city, then with patience and so much love helped her get the basics, and Kendra trusted him. Mid her stubbornness, he never made fun of her and encouraged her to keep trying. And when she succeeded his joy was so warming it WAS ADORABLE AUHJJMSM

Funnily enough, it reminded me of one of the Hotel Transilvania movies where Mavis and Johnny are in a park and after Mavis does a trick, Johnny is like "that's my girlfriend, suckers!" To which Mavis corrects, "your wife, Johnny. " and he says "My wife, even better."

And then the last update just hits me with a shit ton of reminiscing in Kendra's side. How she relieves her childhood going in and out her mind, leaving Mikey 'alone' but him not reprimanding her and instead understanding and waiting until the time is appropriate for him to bring it up. And he does it softly. And leaves the door open for her to cross herself. And she opens up.

And this is all beautiful to me because who wouldn't want that?

They both feed each other affection in a healthy way without pushing or pulling. They understand, they read each other and thread cautiously where needed.

I just love how little by little they peel off layers, bare their soul to each other, and everytime it's like they love each other more and more.

And it's aside the topic and I know AENEM is a SFW fic, but I can't help but wonder if their chemistry in more intimate settings would be like that. Slow paced, careful. A bit playful, but full of reverence for each other.

My brain gears spinning

Anyways

Loved them sillies.

- anon that needs more confidence when sending asks but it's getting there

(Hope your hand is better by the way!!)

YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY GETTING THERE WITH YOUR CONFIDENCE AND I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!!!! /SRS

Genuinely, this is me whenever I get your asks:

🎶 THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF KENKEY 🎶

I sometimes think you single handedly keep me going! /gen

I know I write for me first and foremost and that will never change; I cannot be stopped from making more kenkey content, but I do understand that this ship is a hard sell. I've been turned down more trying to commission kenkey art then oc x canon which is wild to me. Not because I don't think artists should be allowed to turn down anything they don't want to draw, (i totally encourage that!) but because it always felt like original character romantically tied with a canon character always felt more taboo. Who knew that rarepairs were the real off putting factor!?

Also, because anxiety, when I say all this, I don't expect or am trying to guilt anyone into reading! Again, again, I write for me! I don't expect anyone to read anything! I'm truly honored any time anyone does, but (and this next part is meant to be read as a sales pitch) if you DID read AENEM, I can GUARANTEE you a not just a love story of the ages, but also healing your inner child from family trauma!

OKAY ENOUGH OF THAT, SORRY!

AHHH HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA!!! I really love the first one a whole lot and I've seen the others, but dangit if I didn't totally forget about the skateboard scene. MIKEY WOULD TOTALLY FORGET/REMEMBER THEY WERE MARRIED BUT ONLY AFTER THE FACT! When I was brainstorming date ideas with Beta Grace, she was going through things Mikey liked to do and I realized that for as intrinsic as skateboarding is to the turtles, I almost never see it used in romantic fics! I decided I totally needed to rectify that and it was such a blast figuring out both how it would work for Kendra and in the context of where I needed to get her emotionally.

I'm so glad my goal for them is reading! They feed off each other! They push each other! They contrast! They make each other mad! They're navigating what is basically a whirlpool and each spin bring them closer and closer together! 💖

Plus, we've only just started on Kendra's side of things. You think old Mike is some perfect creature that can do no wrong? Heheheh 😏

AHH JUST THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I'M SO GLAD TO HEAR ALL THIS!!! I OWE YOU THE WORLD, WHICH ALLOW ME TO THEN SAY:

You KNOW that even if it is a SWF fic that I'm so entrenched in kenkey that I've thought of it from all facets!!! Now, you are anon so i can't confirm your age, so I will hold back from racey details, but let me tell you that their sex life is/will be very funny. 😂 I still think of Mikey as a flavor of aroace (he's depicted this way in Weak/Soft Spot and Sunshine Moonshine) and Kendra has had a very use them and lose them history with partners. Together, they end up butting heads because they're actually both tops. Ahhh I want to get into it more, but I'll stop here!!

If I get some confirmation or anyone of age interested, I will tuck my big explanation on this under a 🍋 warning so we'll see!

THANK YOU AGAIN!!!!

P.S. My wrist has finally recovered! It took over a week and I almost injured my other wrist by overcompensating because of losing the one! I had a few nights of double bracing and that SUCKED, but I haven't had pain in a minute so I think we're good! I'm gonna stretch more for sure!

[lorifragolina]

The Villain of His Own Story (Rare Pair Will/Billy)

Hi everyone! This is the second entry for the @st-rarepair-roulette, this time I got Will/Billy. I always wanted to write something for them, they were the first pair I found when I entered the fandom!

I'm not really happy with the fic but I at least, I tried! This is the first chapter and I'll try to finish the fic soon.

I'll write more spicy Byers Jr soon!

Link to the fic: The Villain of His Own Story on Ao3

Rating: M Pairing: Will Byers/Bily Hargrove TW: Smoking Weed, mention of drugs (coke), Attempted Underage Sex Wc: 3921 A little snippet:

“Fuck you,” Will was still bothered. “You know everything, like my mother and my brother. I can go in a fucking club and screw with whoever”. He lowered his eyes again, but Billy felt in his bitter voice that wasn’t the first time he argued about it. “You can, but it’s not the best thing. You should find someone who really likes you…” “Yeah. Someone as desperate and dumb as me, you mean, because people like you wouldn’t touch me with a stick”.  “People like me? No, you’re totally off track… you are… you are pretty, more than pretty…” Billy blushed and lowered his eyes.  He’d rather prefer ignoring it, but he always had a soft spot for Will. A crush, although he didn’t want to accept it.  Will had always been a silent, shy boy at his house when he came over to play with Max and Jane, but he always had been polite and kind with him, although he was evidently daunted by his presence. They shared some silent secrets, they caught each other looking up and down on the legs of some football player, and they always kept the secret; and Will was pretty when he was little, and Billy saw how he grew up in a fortnight and how his baby body changed into a…  a more attractive person. And he had those velvet eyes that followed him when Will thought Billy didn’t notice it. One day Will was drawing and Billy joked about it, asking for a portrait of himself. Will gave him a pencil draw some days later and Billy still had that drawing between his dearest things. So the problem wasn't that Will wasn’t cute. The problem was Billy. “I am used to being… a bad person with others, Will… with people I bang,” he scoffed bitterly.

[boyquiet]

For the choose violence ask game: 1, 8, 18

1. the character everyone gets wrong

ive seen a lot of people talk about maya and phoenix already so ill talk about what I know best and that’s klavier. ive seen a lot of great fanon but a lot of people reduce him to just being flirty or acting like he flirts with everyone he meets which is typical flanderization for the aa fandom but god hes so much more than that. i think fundamentally klavier is a very lonely person who doesn’t really have any close friends he can trust and he keeps up a persona of being popular and acting like everyone likes him to cover for the fact that deep down he doesnt have any close personal relationships. i think in turnabout serenade he’s a lot more happy to be befriending apollo and trucy than he lets on, since he’s always willing to drop whatever he’s doing to help them and put on a smile whenever they show up. it makes me sad that they never followed up on apollo and klavier becoming friends after the fourth game :(

8. common fandom opinion everyone is wrong about

related to the above, the whole “klavier is shamelessly flirty and apollo is flustered and innocent” thing. one, klavier isn’t really that flirty and i don’t think he would ever do anything that would genuinely make apollo uncomfortable in any way. two, apollo does not get flustered!! when they first meet klavier says his whole thing and apollo isn’t like “u-um are you f-flirting with me!?!” he barely even notices and is like who the fuck are you. he would get exasperated quickly because he’s on the clock and he has a job to get done but he wouldn’t turn into a blushing mess. also I think people gravitate toward klavier being the sexy flirty top and apollo being the shy innocent bottom which is just pretty gross to me, especially with the common trans apollo hc making it weird and infantilizing. apollo is a mature grown adult and he doesnt have to be fandom assigned bottom just because he’s smaller

(also the idea that kristoph matt and dahlia would be murderous bffs. you’re telling me the three characters with the most notorious trust issues would be able to befriend anyone without stabbing someone in the back within an hour of meeting?)

18. it’s absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

transfem klavier,,, it’s not that it’s super grounded in canon or anything but please it means so much to me. more people draw and write her transfem please!!!

as far as underrated ships go, i dont really have any rarepairs im super dedicated to so idk. i guess people are sleeping on rarepairs in general. go draw more niche ships guys it’s fun

[quasiimodo]

❤️💛🎨🎁 for the fanfic ask game! :D

fanfic writer ask game

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

god, this is a tough one! I have a lot of favourites, but I think this line from one of my Kiribaku fics might be one of my faves

Katsuki and Kirishima were like two moons circling the same planet. Always moving in the same direction, but never quite meeting. A circumbinary orbit. 

💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?

Sometimes, you just have to put words on paper! Even if they're not good words, I've always found the hardest part about writing to be starting. Sometimes you just gotta slap some terrible writing on the page, or maybe start in the middle rather than the beginning! Just put something down, and then it becomes 10x easier than before!

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I would love to see someone draw my Todoiideku fic "hold you close and hold you fast" because there's a really sweet scene where the three of them fall asleep together in a hospital bed post-Hosu. I just,,,, love that image so much

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

Not actually a WIP, but a completed fic that I'll be posting tomorrow for the start of DR Rarepair Week!

 “How’s the dough looking?” 

Gonta stops his mixing, holding out the bowl towards Taka for approval. “This okay?” he asks. 

“Most impressive, Gonta!” Taka’s face lights up with a smile, and Gonta’s heart soars. “Your mixing skills are most admirable! Where have you been all my life?” 

“At home,” Gonta replies earnestly. “And some time in forest as well.” 

Taka laughs, his head thrown back and his eyes crinkled with amusement. “You always seem to know just what to say!” 

His brows furrow in response. “Gonta do?” he asks. 

Taka just grins, placing a hand on Gonta’s shoulder. His heartbeat increases, and his grip tightens on the wooden spoon. “You do,” he repeats, his other hand taking the bowl from Gonta. “Now, let’s get these cookies onto the tray!” 

[m34gs]

For the fic writer ask: 3, 13, 25, 37, 40, 42.

Hi friend! Thanks for the ask!! (from this post!) Excited to answer!!

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

My creative process? Well, I have an idea, I try to summarize it in one sentence. Then I decide if I want to do a one-shot or a multichapter fic. If it's multichapter I start thinking about how I'm going to divide it up. Assign character roles, then I write out an entire bare-bones plot and divvy it up into chapters. When I start on a chapter I use that as a guideline and let myself work from point A to point B as organically as I can. Sometimes as I'm writing further in the chapter, something clicks and I scroll back to pop a detail in. For one-shots I usually allow myself a lot more freedom and just jot down a few concepts before I launch into writing the actual fic.

13. What’s a common writing tip that you almost always follow?

Learn the rules so you know when and how to break them. Seriously, the rules are important so that you can break them at the right times for maximal impact.

25. What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

Hmm, I don't know if it really counts because I'm actually really happy with the response I got on it, considering it's a rarepair in a fandom that's still pretty new...but I am incredibly proud and happy with A Different Kind of Magic; my multichapter Kalim/Idia fic for Twisted Wonderland. I love it very much and am always happy to see that someone else has liked it or commented or bookmarked it 💜

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Well, I actually do this prior to even writing the actual fic. I have a detailed outline that allows me to group certain points together into chapters and then I highlight them in the work as I work through them, so that I know what I've hit and what I still need. I try to limit it to only a few points per chapter, but the actual amount just depends on how long I want to spend on each of the points. If it's a super important or heavy topic that takes a lot of work and words to get across properly, the chapter may only really have one "point".

Once I've hit the points in the chapter and covered them in the depth I want to, I end it.

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Honestly, if anyone ever draws anything based on my fics, I will cry happy tears. It's such an honour and I really can't pick or choose which ones I would rather have. I would be so flattered.

42. What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it?

The last fic I read was...Just a Normal Citizen (Not a Dimension Traveler), a lovely Twisted Wonderland mafia au that I *highly* recommend everyone check out! It's so fun. (I love you friend and I love everything you write!)

Thanks again for the ask!!

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Bonnie Bennett x Katherine Pierce (The Vampire Diaries)

Requested by @burns-fairmont

"What I want to know," Bonnie says, her eyes sharply tracking Katherine's movements whenever she comes back into view, "is why you're so obsessed with me."

Katherine makes a little noise, almost amused-like. Finally, she stops circling her. Bonnie tries to glance at her over her shoulder but can't quite manage, but she hears her following hum of thought.

"Not obsessed," Katherine draws out softly, sending a shiver down Bonnie's spine. "More..."

She touches her shoulder, startling her, and proceeds to gently drag her fingers along her skin as she slowly moves around her once more. A nail lightly traces her collarbone. Katherine lifts her piercing gaze to Bonnie's face.

"Fascinated." She drops her hand as abruptly as she touched her. Lifting her chin ever so slightly, she shrugs and steps back from her, folding her arms over her chest. "You remind me of someone. Maybe that's why I have a bit of a soft spot for you. Don't tell Caroline."

Bonnie narrows her eyes at her. "You, soft? What, because I remind you of..." It clicks into place. "Emily. I remind you of Emily, don't I?"

Judging by the way Katherine's jaw tightens and her eyes seem to darken, she's hit the nerve. It always does to mention a vampire's past ghosts, something she's been learning since her introduction to the supernatural.

"I suppose you do," Katherine reluctantly admits. "She never knew when to hold her tongue for her own good, either."

"Is that meant to be some kind of threat?" Bonnie asks, raising her eyebrows, filled with a sudden surge of boldness. "Did that work on Emily?"

Katherine scoffs at that, dropping her arms back to her sides, definitely amused now. "Emily was never in any danger from me. Nor are you, Bonnie. Believe it or not, I don't want to hurt you. I actually quite like you."

Bonnie opens her mouth to protest that it doesn't feel that way, Katherine steps forward again, much closer than before, and beats her to it.

"And before you ask if I also liked Emily, you should know that the answer is yes." Her lips part in a particular kind of grin that has Bonnie expecting to see two sharp points pressing into her bottom lip, and Katherine's eyes drop to Bonnie's own mouth briefly, before flicking back up to hold her startled gaze. "I really... really... liked Emily."

For a ridiculous moment, Bonnie actually thinks Katherine might kiss her. Then she presses her lips back together, still smirking, and moves away once again. She turns her back on her this time and Bonnie exhales, her lungs aching from the uncertain anticipation. There's a strange aching, hollowness of something shocking between her ribs. Disappointment.

[wolfluna091]

So... I finally finished it... and I thought of doing something different, but I exaggerated the time working on it and it... welp, made me cry and also just got kind of off-topic, but I think it still works... I hope

Day 6 of @cookie-run-rarepair-week: Impress

A golden raspberry

Back when I met you I was stunned, amazed too Never met someone so beautiful So fabulous, undisputable

All along, never really realized How much you make me excited Just in seeing your eyes Makes me feel high

Oh you, my heart We cannot be apart Among all the other berries You're a golden raspberry

And when the stars of the night Oh, shine so bright We'll be there together Just accept to be mine forever

Oh, this merry life All the things to pass the time Full of hope to admit That you make my life complete

You are my hope, my life My guiding light Even if life has other plans I'll be thinking of you down the moonlight 'Cause among all those berries You're my golden raspberry

This feeling, filling me with happiness When I encounter you, you take away my sadness I can't deny, you're the love of my life So please hear my voice, as sing this to you I have no choice, but to love everything you do

I know we might differ But we're at the same river Those cookies who hear us now Will always follow their path, somehow Baby, you know, life is a show We need to act before it ends And I know you think we're only friends

Among all of those around Earthbread You're the one who sticks in my head All I want to say, is that you brighten my day I love you my dear, and everything will be okay

This took me 2 days! (The song, not the drawing, the drawing was in, like, 20 minutes)It was inspired my this banger of a song!

I thought the ship was more popular but apparently it isn't. So, best way to impress the love of your life? Sing a song about your love for them! At least that would be what Parfait does.

This got a little off-topic but I guess it still counts... it still works with the prompt.

[caspercryptid]

Hi! Are you still taking requests? I would like some Silco/Jayce. Yeah, I know, a really rare ship but I can't find a single fic of them and I'm sad. Something like maybe they make peace without Silco losing Jinx and then after that they work together and with time they get to know each other better.

I'm gonna go ahead and make this a continuation of This just for ease since that'd basically be my premise anyway <3 thank you for the request! always happy to meet your rarepair needs, feel free to send me more requests.

-

It was done.

Jayce didn't quite know how he'd done it, but somewhere in the space in the council room where he'd stood and delivered the words and made an impassioned plea for mercy and understanding, he'd done it. There had been some questions about retribution and he'd- admittedly, kind of blacked out for a second.

When he'd asked Mel, afterwards, exactly what he'd said--- well, first, she'd laughed at him, because she'd asked him to explain and he had. But once she was done laughing at him, she said that he had given a very compelling speech about starting relations with a new city-state on the grounds of mutual respect, of understanding that a civil war had been raging for a long time now, a quiet one, and in a war both sides have acted in ways that were not proportional or right. He'd also said- and Mel had noted this with a certain glint of amusement- that every person in this war had acted to protect their families from the enforcers. That every person they could make an example of was someone's father, someone's daughter, had a family. It wouldn't just punish them. It would salt the ground they were trying to grow a better future in. Mel'd patted him on the shoulder, told him he'd done good, and left it at that.

He suspected he'd said more than he meant to, especially given that Viktor'd seemed similarly amused, but Viktor had been eager to get back to the lab and Jayce had been eager to let him, with promises he'd follow as soon as he could (and Mel had agreed to check on him, Jayce needed Viktor okay, too.)

So he had it all in hand. He just needed to go pay someone a visit.

Zaun seems... quieter. Than the last time he was down here. And of course it was different, his blood wasn't pumping, he wasn't alerted to every single sound, but he walks through the streets in his white coat and- ah.

People were getting out of his way.

He takes a deep breath, reminds himself that he was doing this officially and that was the only way to do it, pushes aside the feeling that he's going to die down here, and continues on.

The last drop is legitimately an impressive building. It looks a little rough- something's clearly come crashing through and he has a certain degree of suspicion about what (who) it was-- but there's a bouncer at the door and he can see that tables have been set to rights again, even through the door, though his view of it is immediately blocked by a man who's built like a brick shithouse.

"Councilman Talis." he says, his voice absolutely dripping disdain. "To what do we owe the pleasure." Jayce tips his chin up. "I'm here to see Silco." "No you're not." Jayce feels eyes on his back and all over him. He's probably surrounded, but he doesn't look back. He draws himself up, ready to retort, when the words are stolen out of his mouth. "Yes he is."

Silco himself pushes the bouncer out of the way, and Jayce... has to admit that the light of the last drop does Silco some favors. He looks completely in his element, radiating a kind of power he hadn't on the bridge. It's half in the way he looks in the neon glow, in the grime of the city, half in the way everyone scatters to get out of his way. The city's like an extension of his hands, the way it responds when he moves.

Jayce inclines his head and follows when Silco gestures him in, not bothering to spare the bouncer a second glance.

He glances around at the destruction, feeling a little pang of guilt in his chest at the mess. If he'd taken the gauntlets---

No. What was between Vi and Silco was between them. He couldn't have taken them back, couldn't have told her she was wrong. He could only choose a different way forward for himself, and he had.

He had.

He follows Silco up to his office, which is empty, and scans the room. There's... a little bit of dried blood on the floor. A glow catches his eye and he looks up. There are... neon paintings all over the ceiling, glowing phosphorescent.

Something-- oddly comforting settles in Jayce's chest. It shouldn't be, he realizes, distantly. But there's something about the scrawled writing on the ceiling of such a formal office that affirms that-- well. At the very least, Silco wasn't lying about how much she meant to him. The little marks of her presence are everywhere. It's not a portrait on the wall the way some of his coworkers would have, but, well. It's Zaun.

He was starting to really appreciate what that means.

Silco sits and just makes a diplomatic gesture at the other chair, and Jayce slides him the papers.

"We're going to have to build you a hexgate." He says, without fanfare. "Rather than giving you full access to Piltover's. Is that an equitable compromise?" Silco raises an eyebrow. "You'd hand over your technology that easily?" He asks, and Jayce snorts. "If you disassemble it, we're going to have problems. I trust that you're aware that what you might gain isn't worth that cost." "An awful lot of trust, Councillor." Silco muses, and it's almost a question. Jayce swallows, hard. "---you trusted me." He says. "Or at the very least, trusted me to- act within what you think of me. I know you're assuming i'm soft. That i'm balking at the first sign of danger. I'm not too prideful to admit I don't have the stomach for a war. I don't want one. I'm a scientist, not a soldier, and certainly not a general." He looks up at Silco, chin up. "I don't trust you either." he says. "Not on any personal level. But you showed your hand. You may be a monster, but you're a man, too. And I can work with that. You don't want a war. You're willing to do what it takes to stop anyone else from starting one." Silco is giving him a look he doesn't quite know how to define, but it makes his pulse do something fast and strange, like a bird trapped in a cage, beating its wings.

"You're uncommonly observant." Silco says, finally. Jayce's lips twitch. "Scientist." he says.

"Must not be easy, being their poster boy." "---It isn't." Jayce admits.

"You're not cut out for this."

"I'm not."

"And yet." Silco muses. "You manage it anyway. I'm finding myself impressed."

"---thank you." Jayce says. He's trying not to look flustered, and he pushes himself up from the chair, offering a hand. "Do you accept the terms?"

Silco stands too.

It happens very fast.

Silco's face is suddenly very close to his, and his heart just about stops, because Silco is holding his chin. His expression is still flat but his eyes are blazing.

"Don't misunderstand." he says. "I'm impressed with this little charade. But if you think for one moment that I trust you enough to let my guard down-" "No." Jayce says, firmly, cutting him off. "I dont--- expect you to. I expect you to distrust and hate me. I expect you to act as a citizen of Zaun. But don't misunderstand me either, Silco, I'm not unaware of the politics. I may not be suited for it, but that doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing. Despite that-" He pulls back, out of Silco's grip. "-I can't make deals with Zaun." he says. "So I am expecting you to act as a representative of Zaun's interests. And the second you don't, it won't matter that you're a man with a daughter, because there are more people than you who've staked their lives on this. Hold up your end. I'll hold up mine. Now do we have a deal or not?"

Silco is still giving him that look, and before Jayce can question him, his thumb presses against Jayce's lip.

"There's a traditional way to seal a bargain." He says, and before Jayce can question him, he--

It takes a second to process that SIlco is kissing him, and that he's kissing Silco back, on instinct, because his face was close and he was half prepared for it, half thinking about it, even though he was in no way prepared for it, definitely not thinking about it--

Silco pulls back, looking undefinably smug.

"We have a deal."

[akumastrife]

✨️ 🌈 🌻 🎀 🎉 🍭 🎙 💌

babe thank you so much

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

No Price Too Great; No Distance Too Far the rarepair raven cycle medieval au I wrote for a bigbang (my first and last)! Its 40k, all the things I like to write, with a bunch of flowery metaphors and 97% just yearning okay. It was a lot of work, a lot of love, but unfortunately seems to be too self-indulgent to be a fandom hit.

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

The Coral Isle Alliance, the teen wolf Scott/Danny fantasy kingdom au. I struggled with it because originally I wanted it to be 8 chapters, and a sweeping epic of found family, slow burn, and dreamy aesthetics. But... It sat in my drafts for over a year and I got overwhelmed when I didn't have all the story figured out. There was definitely a mental block that I think in part was because already I knew deep down it was only for me and very few people were even going to read it.

So I took everything I had already written and crunched it down into a one shot, and tbh that was all it needed to be.

🌻what makes you want to give up on writing? what makes you keep going?

lack of engagement definitely makes my desire to write fic very low, and i've been struggling with that for several years now. I enjoy fic and enjoy rarepairs/tropes that I know I'll have to write myself to have, and there's many fics started on my computer. But engagement has deceased so much across fandom in the last 6-7 years and tbh the effort I know I'll end up putting into it to not really get any feedback? It's bleak man. Makes it harder and harder to justify the time when I have original novels I want to write for publication as well.

But I keep writing, and I keep thinking of new aus and fic I probably will never write because I enjoy the creativity of fandom and I have a lot of feelings about characters I don't know what to do with otherwise. Fandom was pivotal for my adolescence, and definitely shaped the way I engage with art. I want to contribute to it, it's just how I am.



🎀give yourself a compliment about your own writing

I feel like I'm really honing my ability to weave emotional impact into the narrative! I can't draw the moment of anguish on a characters face, but I'm gonna try to convey it in a paragraph anyway!

🎉how often do you celebrate completing & posting a work? how often do you give yourself the credit/validation that you seek from others when you post? (if you don't, you should!)

Oh. Oh, well, I.. don't, i guess? I suppose posting is the reward, as in, the relief of having finished something (something I struggle with.)

How do you all celebrate a posted fic? Clearly I need ideas! =3

🍭why did you start writing?

I've always had the ideas, even before fanfic. And it was never enough to have them, and think about them, there's always been that desire to write them down, flesh them out, truly play around in them. I've been an avid reader since I learned how, and I guess there was always a part of me that liked it so much I wanted to participate.



🎙️which one of your fics would you like someone to make a pod-fic of?

Thematically, I think 'dust devils on the horizon' (Joy cowboy au) would translate really well with the right narrator.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Yes it's true, i'm rewriting (for the 4th time) a KH fic I started 13 years ago that I want to actually finish this time. I'm posting chapters as I finish them, instead of waiting for all of it to be finished so I don't lose motivation but boy its hard.

When i write fic, which is rarer these days, its for me, or whatever my friends want to read.

[fluri-above-all]

ToV Rarepair Drabble - Scars

One of the oneshot prompts I've seen lately was about scars. And I've been wanting to write Harry x Ioder again ever since @nagia36 brought up one of my old drabbles...Harry doesn't really get the attention he deserves so I wrote this to make it up to him.

Warning for suggestive themes.

Scars

Harry’s body held scars. 

The first was across the bridge of his nose and honestly…he couldn’t remember how it happened. Yeager had told him once it was from crying so much while he was a baby that the tears created the cut turned scar as they fell. This had prompted further crying from the very young blonde. 

His grandfather later pat him on the head (and whacked Yeager upside his) and proceeded to tell him even he did not know how Harry got it. When Garry's family was driven out of their hometown, he’d reunited with Harry and his mother and the mark had already marred his unconscious face. His mother had had a mental breakdown and disappeared one night, taking the secret with her. With his memories of that day unknown and lost to him, Harry eventually came to simply accept the scar as one of the earliest parts of himself. It was his “favorite” if he had to pick one. 

There were also scars that were not his favorite. They adorned his back, parts of his chest and even the side of his neck. These were from skirmishes, battles and attacks on his life. The ones on his chest weren’t visible with his clothes on, even with his shirt barely covering his torso. The scar on his neck was small, from a younger part of his life when someone had foolishly tried to take him hostage. Their plan would have worked, had they not nicked Harry in the neck and set the guilds into frenzy. It was one of the few times he had ever seen his grandfather look truly angry, “seeing red” is what he’d later come to recognize it as. 

Since that day no one has tried to kidnap or capture the young man. That incident was probably why….

It could also be from the size Harry had grown during his years of rebuilding himself as well...but he liked to think the terrors of Altosk had spooked his assailants away.

One of the scars on his back was up by his shoulder, where the tusk of a large monster had snagged him from behind and pinned him to the ground. Harry winces even now just thinking about that particular instance. 

The oddest scar of all – In Harry’s opinion anyway – was on his ankle. A blood-thirsty group of bandits had attempted – very poorly – to attack the still inexperienced Don on his trip through the desert. One of the bandits speared him in the ankle with a harpoon gun, the retraction dragged Harry several feet before Raven and the other members of Altosk dispatched the group. When the weather gets cold, he can feel the irritation in his foot from the long scarred over wound. It was his “least favorite” if he had to pick. 

Still, the young Don of 23 years took pride in his scars. They were symbols depicting an exciting (and often dangerous) life, proof that through all he had endured, he was strong. And more importantly, he was still here. He'd been stabbed in the back, attacked head on, pulled against his will, and yet, he was still standing tall. 

Harry had never been particularly close with death; none of the wounds engraved on his body were life-threatening. If anything, people would say he had Lady Luck on his side. He'd scoff at that, being a man who believed in carving his own path and not fate…

Still...

That didn’t mean he was itching to meet his maker enough to test it. As reckless as he could be he had no desire to push the limits of his life. It was something precious that had been fought for and sacrificed his whole life. And through those scars, he knew they were signs that represented those who had lost their life for him…It meant their sacrifice was not in vain. He would continue to fight. No matter what it took. 

It was his relentless and unwavering ability to never back down that made Ioder worry – he knew that. 

The first time they had made love he’d hesitated to show himself to the other blonde. Harry wondered if the young Emperor would find him grotesque with his marred skin, a dark contrast to Ioder’s pale perfection. But Ioder said nothing about them, even kissed the one across his collarbone. 

Harry didn’t want to admit it, but the tender intimacy made his pulse quicken and his body waver slightly. 

Who knew a person’s bitter scars could elicit such a sweet reaction? Certainly not Harry. He didn’t think his body could ever be so sensitive to another’s touch, especially with his scars. 

It was yet another surprise that kept Harry wrapped around the Emperor’s finger – contrary to everyone’s opinion of Ioder being swept away by Harry. It was another surprise and a secret Harry wanted to keep to himself. 

But Ioder had ways of figuring him out. 

And he was always so damn sneaky about it too...

The day was innocent enough (as always), Ioder was signing off paperwork at his desk and Harry was lying on the nearby couch. He'd come unannounced so Ioder had insisted Harry be patient and wait for him to finish. It was fairly hot outside, so even with the window open, save for the occasional breeze, it was almost unbearable. 

Except Ioder appeared perfectly fine. 

And for some reason, that irritated Harry. The Emperor wore considerably more when it came to his attire and not only that, the material was bulkier as well. 

“Aren’t you hot?!” Harry cried out, unable to take the heat of the room any longer. Just looking at Ioder made him sweat. The sudden sound of Harry’s voice must have startled Ioder, because he had blinked several times in shocked confusion. 

“Ah forget it, you’re not even paying attention are you…” Harry accused, knowing Ioder had a way of tuning everything out once ensconced in his work. 

“Don’t apologize either.” He added as he saw the gears turning in Ioder’s head. The Emperor likely realized he was not being the best of hosts at the moment. Stretching his arms above his head, Harry elicited a yawn and removed his vest. With the dark garment discarded, he already felt immensely better. 

And while he was at it, he might as well make himself comfortable. Untucking his shirt, Harry’s hands moved to pull the shirt over his head – 

“What are you doing?” Ioder questioned - eyes wide as he regarded the young Don mid shirt removal. 

“I’m taking my shirt off.” Harry answered simply. He opened his mouth to question if there was a problem but then he had to briefly consider where he was. 

Oh that’s right…people are worried about propriety here….

He lifted the shirt up and off anyways,  dropping it on the couch next to him. 

“Harry!” Ioder scolded, face a light shade of pink as he tried not to stare too intently. 

“It’s hot.” Harry regarded with a shrug. “Besides….” He turned his head to the side, a suggestive look on his face. “It’s not anything you haven’t seen before.” Harry withheld the smirk threatening to burst forth at the way Ioder’s cheeks flushed before he looked away. The young Don chuckled to himself, smug with this victory. Ioder went back to work once his face returned to a normal shade, but Harry wasn’t making things easy for him. 

Perhaps it was a low blow, distracting Ioder the way he was with his bare torso. 

And the young Emperor was certainly distracted. He stole the occasional glance as Harry sat back to lounge on the couch once more, the Don feeling quite relieved with his skin exposed. With all the sun he’d soaked up recently, his skin had tanned considerably, especially the front of his chest where he showed most of his muscled chest. 

Now Harry wasn’t a narcissist, but he couldn’t help but admit it was a pretty damn good look on him. Catching Ioder staring out the corner of his eye was all the confirmation that he needed. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Ioder’s pen as he wrote, a contented bliss took over him at how comfortable things had become with a few simple garments removed. 

In fact, he almost drifted off to sleep.

Almost.

The sound of Ioder’s chair shuffling back switched his brain back into alertness. Maybe he was taking a break? Ioder sometimes scooted the chair back to get more room to stretch. 

However he didn’t hear the groan come as it normally did when Ioder did this. Instead, he felt the presence of the young Emperor much closer to him than before. Harry opened his eyes to see what Ioder was up to when the other blonde was actually right in front of him. 

“Iod-“

Harry tried to sit up to ask what was wrong when Ioder pushed Harry’s shoulders back against the couch, the Emperor lifting his legs to straddle him. 

“It’s not nice to tease.” Ioder scolded, but it lacked the disciplinary bite it usually did when he was reprimanding the young Don. Instead it held a hint of mischief, with no short amount of lust. 

Harry had to admit – Ioder lasted much longer than he thought he would. The Don’s arms wrapped around Ioder’s waist, drawing the other man closer. “You know I have every intention of following through…” he answered, voice low and suggestive.

He stretched up to kiss Ioder but Ioder leaned down instead, placing a soft kiss on the tiny scar on the side of his neck, warm hands lightly tracing the sensitive flesh across his once injured collarbone and chest. The sudden physical contact elicited a moan Harry hadn’t even realized he was holding in. Pliant lips rested against the young Don’s ear, warm breath causing Harry to shutter as Ioder spoke. 

“Not if I don’t let you.”

The tanned blonde raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Ioder – Mr. Pacifist – able to subdue someone twice his size? He’s seen Ioder talk down people much stronger than him, but Harry? Did he really think he had an edge over him that would keep him submissive?

Ioder seemed to sense Harry’s apprehension and Harry could almost feel the smirk coming from behind his calm expression. “I notice things about you too Harry.” He kissed along Harry’s jaw, sending sparks down the Don’s spine. “I’d noticed this a while ago but…” Ioder trailed off as he kissed down the other blonde’s neck. Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, finding he didn’t much mind letting the young Emperor take the reins now and then.

“But?” Harry inquired, leaning his head back to allow Ioder better access. 

Hands traveled down Harry’s sides to the dip of his hips, tracing gently over the scar along his hip bone. Harry’s eyes shot open as he bucked his waist up at Ioder’s touch, a soft gasp escaping his mouth. 

“But you really like it when I touch your scars like that.” 

If looks could kill….well…Harry could never kill Ioder, but he certainly wanted to upend him from his lap and wipe that smug expression off his face. 

“I’ll touch them all you’d like later, so be patient and wait for me to finish my work so there won’t be any distractions. Okay?” Ioder asked, lips curled up in a sickeningly innocent smile. His actions betrayed that sweet smile however, as his fingers gently traced Harry’s chest.

“You say that…but you’re not stopping…” Harry pointed out. 

Ioder’s smile turns into a bit of a smirk. “You don’t sound like you’re complaining….”

“Got nothing to complain about.” Harry smirks back, hands moving to Ioder’s waist. Before they can find purchase however, Ioder pulls back, sauntering off to his desk and leaving Harry slightly miffed.

He does take a small bit of satisfaction in the way Ioder squirms uncomfortably in his seat, face slightly flushed. 

Good, he is affected by it…

Harry settles back onto the couch, heat long forgotten as he tries to calm down his hard-on.

How could he let such a weakness become apparent? And how could Ioder use it against him like that?

And why was he strangely alright with all of it?

Those would have to be answers for another time, but for now…

He settled for simply enjoying the way his scars buzzed from Ioder's lingering touch and the anticipation of things to come once Ioder finished his work.

[killjoy-prince]

For Bingo ship - Kaito x Luka?

i am so normal about them (lying)

Ok so like Kaito and Luka are my 3rd/4th favorite vo/caloids and I really love their colors and their aesthetic and I guess one day I was thinking about them and I was like "You know, my faves deserve each other" and the spiral down kinda rarepair hell started there lolol and since they're vo/caloids, that means their personalities and stuff like that is pretty much free reign baby!!!!! I've said this before but seeing them next to each other does genuinely put a smile on my face. I don't know why but they do. They make me feel happy! Like I would go through videos on Youtube trying to find songs and covers that used their voicebanks and just listen to them on a playlist on repeat. And now with prsk, we have more content with them. When they finally shared a sekai and had an area convo I got so happy bc!!! aaa!! They're talking!!! to each other!!!!!! this is happening!!!!!! aaaaaaaa!!!! My go-to interpretation of them is Kaito is this reliable but goofy guy who chill to be around but is always there to lend an ear if you need it and Luka is like this cool responsible i guess/ "big sister" type who's smile can brighten someone (mainly Kaito's) day. They're also both bi bc i said so (this is where a good chunk of the self projection comes in) I've wanted to draw them and write things about them but ive been so busy I haven't had a chance. I've made up a whole ass AU with them and the other vo/caloids (I don't think I'll share it bc it's very self indulgent and probably makes no sense to anyone but me lolol)

Send me a ship for Ship Bingo

[wren-ravenheart]

You Tried So Loud To Love Me

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Hanahaki Disease Relationships:  Jaskier/Valdo Marx Rating: T Content Warnings: Minor blood Summary: Jaskier absolutely could not stand Valdo Marx for even a second. He was pretentious, too pretty for his own good, and had a terrible habit of writing sonnets and songs about the color of Jaskier's eyes and the swoop of his hair that he was absolutely certain were some sort of masterfully crafted insult to his person and reputation.

Tucked under a cut again for Length, though this one is over just over 2k words.

Cross-posted to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31171259

~

There were exactly three things in life that Jaskier was absolutely certain of. Things that he could continue to count on even when the rest of his life was attempting to fall to pieces around him.

That Belleteyn is the best holiday.

That Toussaint is Hot and Pretentious.

And that Valdo Marx is an asshole.

Even when his pockets were empty, his lute strings snapped, or he suddenly found himself caught up in a mild court scandal that he assuredly had no part in, he could always rely on those few things. It was easy to keep moving forward when one was propelled by Pettiness and Lust. Even if he could never give an exact answer as to why he hated Valdo so much when pressed. Really now, you wouldn’t ask why the grass was green or the sun warm, so why would anyone ask Jaskier why he couldn’t stand that fluffy little upstart?

It was assuredly not because the rival bard did indeed stand two inches taller than him and was criminally handsome. Nor was it because he had a perpetual perfect smile on his face that refused to budge even when Jaskier threw his best insults at him. And it most assuredly was not because the thrice-damned bastard had written not one but Two Sonnets entirely about Jaskier’s eyes and hair and he absolutely could read the undertones of mocking that clearly lay within. No, it was clearly none of those things that irked Jaskier to his very core.

What kept his petty hate-fueled animosity going was the absolutely nonsensical crush he had on the bastard. A crush he had worked hard to snuff out with wine, women, and a few other bards who weren’t nearly as annoying as Valdo. A crush that clearly had not gone away with time. A crush that was currently trying to hurtle it’s slimy little self all the way into actual, ugh… Love.

Which made it even more frustrating than usual that Valdo was suddenly not his normal bubbly self, greeting Jaskier warmly and loudly as he strode into their mutually favorite tavern in the middle of Oxenfurt. He looked tired, and quiet, and barely glanced at Jaskier before shifting his gaze back into the pint of ale in front of him. Not wine? By Melitele, what was wrong with him?

“Well, well, look who the alley cat dragged in. Ale will go straight to your gut, Valdo. I’ll steal back the title of prettiest bard before you know it.” He sniped as he leaned against the table’s edge and smiled with too many teeth.

Valdo cut his eyes up and then back down. “Good day, Jaskier.”

The smile dropped from Jaskier’s face and he narrowed his eyes. “Good day? That’s it? Valdo, are you ill? I did take the title back already, didn’t I? That must be it! I’ve never seen you like this. Ah, it must be such a burn to know you’ve finally been bested by a true bard and exposed for the talentless hack that you are.” As he spoke, he gestured grandly with his hands. Valdo only winced once at the mention of being ill and firmly kept his gaze on his mug.

“Everyone already knew you’re the attractive one between us, Jaskier. No need to rub it in.”

Jaskier ceased his obnoxious flailing and took an actual seat at the table with him. He crossed his arms on the table in front of him and leaned in, lowering his voice to avoid being overheard. “Okay now you’re actually worrying me. I was expecting snide sonnets on my unruly mop and ‘lustful gaze’. Jabs, put-downs...anything but this. You are actually sick, aren’t you?”

Valdo slammed back the rest of his ale and stood up abruptly. Jaskier’s mouth dropped open in shock as he was glared openly at by his once-rival turned unnatural crush. “Leave off, Jaskier. Go bother the brothel workers.” And with that final gritted out jab, he stomped out of the tavern.

Jaskier was still staring in shock at the empty spot before him when the barmaid strolled by.

“You’ll catch flies, you leave your mouth open like that, boy.”

He clicked his mouth shut and quickly made his own way out and back to his lodgings.

This just wouldn’t do. What was Valdo’s game? Was he finally making good on all of Jaskier’s assholish attempts to make them public nemeses? Maybe Valdo could read minds; realized the strange feelings the bard had begun to have towards him and decided he was thoroughly disgusted by him.

Jaskier let himself slink into the beginnings of a depression and decided he’d just have to try and shake that off and find out what was going on with his Fri… Rival.

He followed Valdo whenever he could, ambushing him after lectures and hunting him down in pubs. He startled him so fiercely one of these times that the other bard broke down into what sounded like a very painful coughing fit, enough that caused him to pull out a handkerchief to cough into until his lungs settled from the surprise. He found this odd, and then odder still when as he went to ask after his well-being, Valdo abruptly shoved the handkerchief away and growled at him. Growled! Like some angry dog! And left Jaskier once again staring after him as he stomped away, agog.

A month later, Jaskier’s persistence had turned into straight up concern. Valdo was less angry with his antics and instead seemed constantly tired. There were bags under his lovely brown eyes and his hair had turned greasy and less kempt. He consulted these odd symptoms with a friend studying medicine and she mentioned it sounded like some sort of wasting disease. Jaskier was only familiar with a few of them, but none of them sounded like a pleasant time.

So, while still firmly trying to convince his brain that Valdo was still an absolute Arse and absolutely did not deserve his time or affection, Jaskier made soup. Warm pot nestled in the crook of his arm, he marched up to Valdo’s residence and knocked firmly on the door. No one answered. He knocked again. Deep coughs followed by the sounds of mild choking came from within and Jaskier decided basic decorum was right out the window. He pried open the door and rushed inside, looking for the source of the distress.

And there was Valdo; laid out on a lounge chair looking even worse than usual and slowly lowering a cloth from his mouth. There were flecks of blood on his lips and it appeared as if he couldn’t draw a full breath. Jaskier plunked the soup pot right on the floor and went directly to Valdo’s side.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were so ill?” He asked softly, dropping all the pretense of being a rampant jerk.

Valdo just looked at him sadly, too tired to muster up his recent attempts at dismissal. “I did not want you to know, Jaskier. You’re like the sun. So warm and happy. I could not bring myself to have you worry so I pushed you away.”

Jaskier’s eyes went a little wide and he reached out to take Valdo’s hand. It was so cold in his own, and he could make out the fine bones in his fingers. A wasting disease indeed. He rubbed his thumb over the other’s knuckles and shook his head slightly in dismay.

“I’ve been a right arse to you for years. Look at us. Idiots to the bitter end.” He murmured wistfully. “Is… is there anything I can do to help? To ease anything at all? I, uh… I made you soup. I thought it might be… nice?”

Now it was Valdo’s turn to look surprised. He squeezed the hand in his and looked over at the pot on the floor. “You made me soup? You’ve never made me anything.”

“Okay yes. Fine. That is true. I’m a complete and total jerk. My feet should not be gracing your illustrious doorstep, my knees not fit for your carpet. I’m sorry, okay? You’re talented. So talented. I’m at a loss without your poetry to bounce my own works off of.”

At this confession, Valdo cracked a little smile. “Maybe there is hope for you and I after all, dear Jaskier… You see, I ha-” A painful coughing fit cut him off abruptly, the force of it causing Valdo to nearly curl in on himself, clutching the cloth to his mouth as his body attempted to forcefully remove whatever was clearly killing him. Jaskier kept his hand firmly in Valdo’s as he tried to rub the other’s back in comfort. The touch seemed to help in some small way, and the hacking died off. Valdo slumped backwards panting, the hand with the cloth falling into his lap.

There, amidst the spattering of blood, lay small bright yellow flowers. Jaskier gasped loudly and shook his head.

“No, it’s a myth. It’s not real.”

Valdo attempted to clear his throat as he bunched the cloth with the flowers up and tried to hide it from view. “You of.. Of all people… .should know the… power of a story… where they come from...the truths hidden in the tales….We’re storytellers.. It’s.. poetic in it’s own way…”

“It’s a tragedy born of the old stories, is what it is. Wasting away from unrequited love? It’s madness. No one actually dies of a broken heart.”

“I’m not heartbroken, Jaskier. I’m simply in love with someone who is my sun and sky… and who absolutely cannot stand me. It will make the most glorious tragedy. I have already begun to write it.” Valdo smiled brightly as he caught his breath better and shifted to sit more comfortably. He squeezed his hand once more before letting it drop. “With any luck, I will finish it before I can no longer write.”

Jaskier stared into the middle distance over Valdo’s shoulder, taking it all in. It all seemed too outlandish to be real. Things that happened in tragedies and stories never actually happened in real life. Soulmates weren’t real. Kisses didn’t break curses. And people didn’t suffocate slowly on flowers for being rejected. But as he slowly shifted his gaze back to the pale, but still softly smiling, face of the absolute nuisance that was Valdo Marx, at lot of things clicked into place for him.

He had never hidden pithy put-downs into his sonnets. He had never crafted masterful insults through his songs. He had honestly and truly sung from the heart and he had called him his Sun. Valdo had been unashamedly, unabashedly, in love with him from the start. He was coughing up small yellow flowers… Buttercups...and had slipped back into waxing poetic over it all. Lord, the fool was fully gone on him. And he had been nothing but the most righteous arse over it all, so very full of himself and sure that the other was somehow mocking him and jealous of his talent.

Turns out it was Jaskier himself who was the pompous wastrul and talentless hack. He shuffled forward on his knees until he was flush against the lounge. Valdo looked over at him and lifted an eyebrow in question. A beautiful eyebrow set in a beautiful face that Jaskier was tired of pretending he wasn’t also long gone on as well. What was it that the storybooks always said saved the day, woke the princess, broke the curse? Ah… yes…

Jaskier set both hands on the cushion of the lounge and angled himself just right to gently lean forward and press his lips right against Valdo’s own. The man below him went very very still. His lips were soft, but the lack of any response twisted something uncomfortable in his gut and he slowly broke the kiss and moved away, eyes cast downwards.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Jaskier, what-?”

They spoke at once. Jaskier looked up and noticed color on Valdo’s cheeks, his mouth slightly open and his eyes nearly comically wide in shock. He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat.

“I’ve been a right arse to you, but I love you, Valdo Marx. And I do not wish to see you suffer a moment longer. It will kill me too.”

Valdo’s eyes fluttered shut and he let out a deep exhale. Jaskier panicked for a brief second, wondering if he had actually killed him, before he sucked in a very long and full breath and opened his eyes again. They shined with unshed tears and Jaskier had a moment to admire the sight and the warm feeling at finally giving in before he was being tackled to the ground in a crushing hug and warm tiny kisses were being pressed to whatever skin the other could find.

A laugh erupted from them, and Valdo’s kisses shifted from surprised, affectionate pecks, to soft and tender kisses meant to explore the other’s skin. Jaskier shifted slightly under him and set a hand to his chin, drawing him back to his own lips to continue the kissing. Valdo hummed happily and nearly melted into what he hoped was now his new Beau. The university community was going to have a field day with this.

Jaskier rolled them over and slowly moved his head away. Valdo attempted to chase after one more kiss, making him chuckle. “As much as I am enjoying making out on the floor like we’re back in year one… are you sure? Are you alright? You were coughing up most of your lung a minute ago.”

Valdo smiled up at him and reached up to run his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. “Yes, my love, I am quite well now. You’ve restored me and I suffer no longer. Now the story I write shall have a happy ending. A proper fairy tale after all.”

“Well, if you insist. Though I would be grateful to continue this discussion somewhere that is not the floor.”

Valdo’s laugh was bright and filled him with warmth as they both got to their feet and he began to tug Jaskier in the direction of a more private space. “Anything for the prettiest bard in Oxenfurt.”

And wasn’t Jaskier pleasantly surprised when Valdo took it upon himself to demonstrate just how much better he now felt, repeatedly and with vigor. As it turned out, stories always had more truth to them than he had ever expected, for this cursed ailment was most assuredly soothed with a Kiss.

~End~

[fe3h-incorrectquotes]

I live rarepair content! Thoughts on Hubert and Caspar?

okay, just to preface this - it's getting late, i'm sleep deprived, and i am so so sorry that this took so long, anon.

thoughts on them? to be honest, i don't have many. i had to go through their supports for this one, as i couldn't remember anything beyond the general idea of caspar yells and hubert is mad. hopefully these headcanons will be enough to suffice!

like with caspar's war cries, hubert often finds himself "reining caspar in", as he puts it. caspar is very high energy and he only gets louder around other people. hubert is more likely to notice when that could make other people uncomfortable, so he takes it upon himself to draw caspar away by engaging in conversation or practice with him instead. it works well - caspar gets an outlet for his energy and hubert... well, he keeps caspar from accidentally causing trouble.

their complete opposite personalities cause them to clash rather often in the classroom or even when it comes to battle, but they're always able to put it aside when it's just the two of them. they still have their disagreements, sure, that's only natural. but it's easier to come to a compromise when it's over something that affects both of them, something they both care about.

hubert doesn't want to believe he has feelings for caspar, at first. this screaming buffoon, causing problems for himself and others, is not the type of person hubert would have ever imagined himself with. but on the battlefield he finds himself encouraged by caspar's voice. in his spare time he finds caspar comforting. he cares so much for people, wants so badly to be a hero, but doesn't see the big picture so much. he is so unlike everything hubert has ever known. hubert is used to lies and subterfuge, plans on plans on plans. caspar is... simple, in that he cares for none of that.

caspar is bold words and bright colours. he's a beacon of hope in an otherwise dim and dismal world. and he doesn't even mean to be. hubert knows he's not the only one comforted by caspar's presence - it's difficult to be sad around someone so upbeat. even when caspar is upset he's high energy, and it becomes somewhat contagious.

on the other hand, caspar doesn't realize he has feelings for hubert, period. not until linhardt points out to him how often they're around each other, how caspar makes a point of visiting hubert after each battle, whether it's to discuss (read: argue about) tactics or boast about how well he did. hubert takes every comment with a smirk, as though caspar is so predictable. and maybe he is, but it's not such a bad thing, he doesn't think. because sometimes when he's talking, if he gets enthusiastic enough or caught up in what he's saying, hubert's smirk slips a little. it softens, just enough that it becomes a smile. or hubert's best attempt at one, at least.

and maybe it's because of caspar's predictability (which hubert is always going on about, talking about how he should try some new tactics and whatnot) but hubert doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised when caspar approaches him after the war and says he'd like to go back to enbarr with him. that's where fodlan's rebuilding will take place, of course, and he wants to be a part of that. but more importantly, hubert has become a steady constant in his life. and maybe caspar can't imagine his life without hubert there, always taunting him but never in a way that really hurts.

(hubert's comments haven't actually hurt him ever. they were irritating five years ago, but now they're another constant. reassuring, almost, in a strange way. he knows that despite everything around him changing, hubert's little snipes will still be there. and honestly? he wouldn't have it any other way.)

in enbarr, hubert is busy. obviously. he's always helping edelgard, devoting every spare moment of time to rebuilding fodlan. but he somehow makes time for tea with caspar, extra training together, breaks outside on walks where caspar can excitedly talk about everything he's been doing. the slow, little moments are what make his days all the more bearable. of course, he has no complaints for lady edelgard - he chose to walk this path beside her and chooses to help her still. he would be happy doing as he is even without the little moments without caspar. but they're a bonus. something comforting. a comfort he's never known before knowing caspar, actually.

(it's with caspar he realizes - maybe the simple moments are good. maybe he's been missing out on them, dirtying his hands behind lady edelgard's back before so long. maybe in another life, he could have devoted himself to these rather than a path dripping red with blood. but in this life, they will suffice. little in betweens that carry him through his days.)

and when the rebuilding is done, and lady edelgard steps down, they have time. so much of it. and so little to do. suddenly their little moments are every moment, and hubert's little snipes at caspar's behaviours become endearing, and caspar's once-irritating yelling becomes something that makes hubert want to laugh (though he doesn't. he only evil-laughs. he does not genuinely laugh. no one will ever see him genuinely laugh.)

and together, in peacetime, they live out their lives together. there is no big confession for them, no moment where everything clicks. they simply... melded together, their lives intertwining so deeply that they couldn't undo it if they tried.

(though they wouldn't. they have no need to try. they are happy, for once.)