#anyway dav could have been worse and there are things i liked about it but overall i'm shook at how much it disappointed me

[spawnofbhaal]

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[kaija-rayne-author]

Veilguard article thoughts.

Obligatory 'I'm not an asshole' disclaimer. Feel free to jump to the cut if you've read it.

Something came to my attention. I need to make it crystal clear that I utterly love the diversity in DAV. It's fantastic. I'm also a heavily left leaning, non-binary, queer as fuck reviewer, editor, and author.

I'm was media blackout while I played this. Please be safe and take care of yourselves. Arguing with incels and white supremacists is completely pointless. They sea lion worse than an actual sea lion. Your mental health is important.

Note. None of my writing on DA, but especially DAV, is edited. This is just my off the cuff writing. I don't have the time, energy, or heart to edit them properly.

Though., every single time the anti-queer brigade comes out for a new DA game, I sit there thinking 'have you bozos ever played any DA game, like, ever?' My guess is nope.

FWIW? I'm not one of the people who complained about DA2 and DAI. There's a pretty brown-nosing article running around that I'm not going to dignify with a repost.

It's another of those 'if you didn't like DAV it's your fault' nonsense pieces I suspect BioWare of paying for.

I only started playing DA around 3 years ago. And I've never been in Fandom spaces for pretty much anything.

So what's their bullshit paid and/or copium reason for why I hated DAV?

Wasn’t in Fandom spaces. Didn't play the games or say a negative thing about them when they came out. Only bought them near release. Loved The Keep. (I had my first kid not long after DAO came out. I didn't game except for ones I could drop really fast if a kid needed me for like, 10 years.)

I'm an editor and writer by trade. A good one, I'm extremely media literate. I have actual degrees in some of the media critique stuff. (English, Creative Writing, English Literature) and I have two braincells to rub together.) Some days, it's only two, but you win some, lose some.

Whoever spewed that article really loves binaries. It's not an either/or, love/hate, you're smart if you agree with me/dumb if you don't, you're with me or against me situation. Two things can be true. Even more!

I can be completely unhappy with the crappy writing in DAV and still appreciate the good things I did like about it.

I can be truly happy for people who enjoyed it, even if I hated it. I actually wanted to love it, y'know?

I can want a morally grey game with choices that actually do matter (no choice actually matters in DAV), and be against those awful things depicted in said morally grey game in real life because it's bloody fiction.

I can want a struggle for the elves freedom, without supporting enslavement IRL. Because completely brushing the morally grey and politically sticky issues previously set out in the games under the carpet leaves a very unsatisfying ending.

And yes, DAV is sanitized. It's disney-fied FFS! The devs were so afraid of complaints that they went way too far into mediocrity for my taste. And whoops, here the game is getting complaints anyway, because they were essentially cowards, instead.

When it comes to crafting entertainment, you have to keep the parable of the old man, the son, and the donkey in mind. You can't please everyone no matter what you do.

Gasp! I can even want the veil to come down, because in the Lore, (you know, the Lore they either retconned into illogical insensibility, or completely ignored? In favour of bum rushing us through a story that made no damned sense and was just badly written?) Anyway, in the ignored Lore, it's clear the veil is strangling both magic and life out of THEDAS. And that doesn't make me an awful person. 1. Because the Lore is clear. 2. Because saving the actual world (even in a game) is a good thing. 3. Because it's fiction.

It's so hilariously ironic that someone complaining about the lack of media literacy about DAV critiquers while writing that article exposed their own so ridiculously. 🤣

I legitimately don't care if you liked it or hated it. I did a review series under media blackout for DAV. I've never complained about much in the DA universe until DAV tbh. I don't fit any of those either/or binary choices in that article. So explain why I hated DAV.

Something I do care about? I do care if you're being an asshole or a decent person to other fans. Stop being dickshits to each other over a video game. I love gaming and it's an important part of my life. None of us are in kindergarten. Act like adults FFS (unless you're not actually an adult.)

Kindness is usually the right choice. No one truly understands what another person is going through. A kind word or a not-posted comment can make a world of difference.

[butwhatisit]

I just feel like you should have the opportunity to get to know my Rook a little, maybe want to kiss her on the face, she deserves it

Her name is Astrid Ingellvar. She's an elf, somewhere between Harding and Lucanis in height, with wildly curly blonde hair and gold eyes. She wears big reading glasses while she's working (which is most of the time) and has a tattoo down the center of her chest that is just a series of lines.

She's a voracious reader and fills stacks of paper with her notes and ideas that she develops as she studies. (Later on she binds them; she tends to collect them by year.) Possibly she could or should write papers on her findings, but she tends to follow her trains of thought haphazardly and rarely sticks to one topic long enough to make an academic study of it. She knows a lot about a lot of things, but not enough of any one thing to be considered a scholar of it.

She's very attached to the skeletons and spirits in the Grand Necropolis, as she grew up in and among the tombs with them. They seems equally fond of her; even Vorgoth has a soft spot for her, though he doesn't make it obvious. She can't speak to the dead like Emmrich (and she's envious that he can; they've been working on seeing if it's possible to learn, or awaken the ability somehow), but she still talks to the dead as if they can hear her and understand. Her insistence on thanking Spite specifically when he pulls paths out of the fade has made Spite very fond of her, and frustrates Lucanis at times. ("Please don't encourage him.")

(More than once she's been interrupted in her room by Spite having dragged Lucanis' body in so they can have a chat. Lucanis is flustered by the situation, but since Spite isn't trying to escape, it could be worse.)

She wasn't always amazing with other living people. Growing up she was always a little too honest, a little too distractable, a little too loud. She wears her thoughts on her face, entirely too easy to read. She's learned to mask over the years, but she's always relieved when she can stop trying so hard and just be.

She knows the basics about the various religions of Thedas, but doesn't believe in any, so to speak. She knows that aspects of them are real, but she doesn't worship anything. If she has a religious belief, it is that everything dies, and in death, we are all equal. She's happy to serve the dead, seeing in them the long chain of history that led to her and will carry her beyond the years she spends in life.

She doesn't feel a huge drive toward romantic entanglements. That's not to say she's uninterested; she simply has to sit with the idea for a while. Percolate. Let the feelings seep into her bones for a bit. (Her canon romance is Lucanis, so you can imagine the two of them sitting five feet apart in the hot tub because they haven't made up their minds about making out yet.)

Anyway that's my girl, I am only like halfway through the game still so I can't say anything about like how DAV changes her or whatever. She picks up a few battle scars during some Incidents, but that's all I know so far.

[stargazer-sims]

52 - To the Starry Skies

On the way home from Artie and Emma's house, Davian calls his sister Chloë and asks her if she'd mind keeping Kaji for the night. Félix already hadn't been feeling well, and after what they'd all heard from Sunny and Tae, he only seems worse. Davian is worried about him and thinks that he could use some rest and a little break from Kaji's constant motion.

Chloë says it's no problem. Kaji has apparently bonded with Chloë's boyfriend Michael over their mutual love of ice cream and blanket forts and their shared passion for art. She says they're currently at the kitchen table, creating a masterpiece in coloured pencil. Michael has even offered to teach Kaji how to paint.

Davian is relieved that everything's going well. It could've been a repeat of the disaster of Sophie and Katie babysitting Kaji, from which Sophie came away with tooth marks on her arm and Kaji came away traumatized by Sophie screaming at him for biting her. To be fair, if Sophie had paid attention to what Félix had told her about Kaji not liking to be touched, everything would've been fine, but Davian wasn't keen to risk another incident. Félix hadn't been willing to take the chance either, and readily agreed when Davian suggested asking Chloë instead.

"His bedtime is nine-thirty," Davian tells his sister. "He likes to have his bath around nine o'clock. He can do it by himself, but one of you will have to stay in the bathroom with him unless you want him running around in the buff. Oh, and don't let him use knives, okay? He's not great with forks yet either, but he can manage if you help him a little. He doesn't like cauliflower or broccoli, and uh... we think he might be allergic to tomatoes, so be careful what you feed him."

Through the phone connection, Davian hears his sister laugh. "Am I actually speaking to the real Davian St-Jean right now?"

"What?" Davian says.

"You sound like somebody's dad."

"Yeah," says Davian. "I guess I am, sort of."

"I never would've seen this coming," says Chloë. "Back in the summer, when you guys told me you wanted to have a baby, I thought you were out of your minds. You were barely functional as a couple, and I was like, 'these guys can't handle a kid'. But now, here you are. taking care of your man and looking after your little alien like an actual grown-up. Maybe you're ready for a baby after all.

"We're ready, and we're gonna make it work."

"You know, you actually might be able to do the thing, Dav. I might've been wrong."

Davian laughs. "Big of you to admit."

"I just call it like I see it," Chloë says. "You surprised me. You're doing good, and I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," Davian says. "That means a lot, coming from you."

"Anything else I should know about your alien?"

"Don't call him an alien. Other than that, just try to be patient with him, and don't touch him without asking."

"Yeah, Sophie told me about getting bit on the arm."

"She had it coming," Davian says.

"So I heard."

"Anyway, Félix will be there to get him in the morning. I've got to be in Newcrest at eight o'clock for a meeting with a guy about some commercials for a furniture store."

"Sounds boring," his sister says.

"It's not a music video, but I'll do whatever pays the bills, and I'll make it look fantastic."

"Holy crap, boy. You are getting responsible, aren't you?" says Chloë, and Davian can picture the grin on her face.

"Now that I've tried adulting, I kinda like it," he tells her.

"Mom will be pleased."

"I think she already is. Pretty sure she thought I'd be in jail or something by this point, but the other day she said she sees a big change in me lately. And we've been talking more, which is cool."

"Everybody sees a big change in you," Chloë tells him. "It's amazing. And I'm glad you and Mom are talking more now. You really should be involved in each other's lives, you know."

"We're working on it," he says. "Check this out. She said she's excited about her first grandbaby, and she said she wants to plan our baby shower, since Félix's mother isn't close by. What do you think about that?"

"I think somebody better tell her to consult with Félix's mother anyway. You think she wants to miss getting in on the baby shower for her first grandbaby? Anyway, it's not like Britechester is on the other side of the world or something. It's like, two hundred kilometers. It'd only be a couple hours' drive. Mrs. Blanchet could come here any time, right?"

"Yeah," Davian says. "You wanna be the one to tell Mom to talk to Mrs. Blanchet? I don't want to touch that one."

"Leave it to me," Chloë says. "When the time comes, you guys won't have to do a thing except show up at your baby shower. Me and Sophie and the moms will handle everything."

"And you'll handle the moms?"

"Right."

"Thanks, sis. You're awesome."

"I know," says Chloë, and Davian laughs out loud.

"Have fun with Kaji," he says. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Talk to you later," she agrees. "Tell Félix I hope he's feeling better soon."

"He heard you. We're in the car. We've got it on speaker."

"Thank you, Chloë," Félix says. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

They say goodbye and Davian disconnects the call.

He takes his eyes off the road for a fraction of a second, to glance over at his husband. Félix is leaning back in the passenger's seat with his eyes closed and one hand resting on his belly. He looks tired, and Davian can't help noticing that his face has that odd greyish cast that people sometimes get when they're about to throw up.

"You okay, Fé?" he asks.

"I've been better," Félix says. "I'm really uncomfortable, and I feel like I'm going to be sick."

"Do you need me to stop?"

"No. I just want to go home, so I can take a warm bath and then lie down."

"I'll make you some ginger tea when we get there," Davian offers. "That usually helps calm your stomach, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but I just want to rest."

"Okay, but if there's anything you need, you'll tell me, right?"

"I will," Félix says.

“Okay.”

Despite Félix's claim that he doesn't want tea, he's changed his mind by the time they get home. He drinks it in the bath, while Davian sits on the bathroom floor and keeps him company. They don't talk much, but Félix seems fine with that. He tells Davian he doesn't want to be alone.

When the bathwater cools off and Félix says he's ready to get out, Davian helps him climb out, dries him off and then helps him dress in some soft, loose-fitting pyjamas. He guides him up the stairs to their room. It takes a minute to get him settled into a position he finds comfortable, but once they work out the correct configuration of pillows and blankets, Félix says he's going to take a nap.

Davian manages to persuade him to nap by himself, although he doesn't seem entirely happy about it.

"I have to get my gear ready for tomorrow," Davian tells him. "I need to be out of here really early, and I don't want to try to organize everything in the morning. I'll be as quick as I can, and then I'll come back and cuddle with you. Sound good?"

The look Félix gives him is almost enough to make him forget about gathering up his stuff for the job in Newcrest, but eventually he acquiesces with, "All right, but I'll miss you."

"I'll be back," Davian promises, and leans down to give him a kiss on the cheek. "If you're already asleep when I come back, I'll lie down with you anyway, and I'll be right here when you wake up."

Félix makes a slight nodding motion, but he's pulling at his lower lip with his teeth, and his eyes are shimmering as if there are tears just waiting for the slightest reason to spill over.

Davian worries the entire time he's in the basement, packing up his stuff. Félix has been more needy lately, which is understandable given his condition, but today has been exceptional. He knows the conversation at Artie and Emma's place had upset Félix, and that he hadn't been having a particularly great day to start with, but Davian is concerned there might be something more going on. Maybe Félix is more unwell than he'd been willing to acknowledge, or maybe there's something more on his mind than the situation with Dylan. Whatever it is, Davian hopes he can get Félix to open up a little bit, once they're both in bed.

He carries his gear upstairs and leaves the bags in the living room. It'd only taken fifteen or twenty minutes to pack and organize everything but it'd felt like ages. Thankful to be done, he hurries up the last flight of stairs, to the bedroom.

Even before he reaches the top, he can hear the sound of Félix crying. He can't go any faster than he's already going, but he wants to. With genuine fear tugging at his heart, he practically jogs across the room.

Félix is lying on his side in a tight curl. He's clutching a pillow against his chest with one arm as if it's the only solid thing left in the universe, and his other hand is pressed against his mouth, unsuccessfully stifling the noise of his sobs.

“Félix, what’s wrong?" Davian asks, breathless with concern. "Are you okay?”

“No,” is the miserable reply.

"What is it, love? Why are you crying?”

Félix's hand is still partially covering his face, and Davian almost doesn't catch his response. "Because I missed you. Because... because I... I love you."

"Why are you crying about that? I'm right here," Davian says gently. He climbs onto the bed, and carefully takes Félix in his arms. "Tell me what's wrong."

For a few minutes, it seems all Félix can do is weep quietly against Davian's chest. but eventually he draws in a long shuddering breath and says, "I'm so grateful you love me enough to want to work on our relationship together."

"I love you all the way to the starry skies and back, just like in that song you sing for Kaji," Davian says. "I want us to last forever and ever, as Kaji says."

"Forever and ever," Félix repeats. "I'm glad you've been showing me that you mean it."

"Of course I mean it, mon amoureux." Davian pets his hair. "Where's all this coming from? Did I say or do something today to upset you?"

"No," Félix says. "It's not you. You've been wonderful.”

“Then, what is it? Is it that you're still not feeling well?”

“I’m really not feeling well at all, but that’s not it. It’s just… I've been thinking."

"About what?"

"Zahir and Dylan."

"What about them?"

"I was thinking we’d be just like them if we hadn't realized we needed to fix things before it was too late,” Félix says. “We’d still be fighting, and maybe we’d resent our baby instead of loving her.”

“It’s okay,” Davian says. “We love her and we want her.”

“Yes, but what if we hadn’t decided to make the effort to change? What would’ve happened? It’s upsetting to think that we might’ve been one argument away from not having her.” His voice is barely audible as he adds, “Or each other.”

"Even if we decided not to have a baby, I'd still want you."

"Me too, but there was that awful moment when I thought you were going to leave. I thought I'd have to choose, but how could I, when I want you and I want our baby too? I didn't know what to do, and I was so scared. I... I couldn't—"The rest of the sentence gets lost in a new little flood of tears.

"Shh... shh... it's okay," Davian soothes. "Don't cry."

"I... I can't help it."

"It's okay," Davian says again. "I'm sorry you were scared, and I'm never going to stop feeling bad for making you feel like you had to choose. I didn't mean for that to happen. You know I never want to hurt or scare you."

Félix sniffles. "I don't want to lose you. That's my biggest fear."

"I'm not going anywhere. Not without telling you, at least," Davian says. He continues to stroke Félix's hair, and is relieved when he senses Félix is starting to settle a bit. "If I get overwhelmed and I feel like I need to run, I know what to do about it now, so there shouldn't be any more random vanishing acts."

"Promise? I couldn't bear it if you left me now."

"I promise I'm not going to leave you, now or ever," Davian says.

"Thank you," Félix whispers.

"This thing with Dylan and Zahir is really weighing on you, isn't it?"

"Yes," Félix admits. "I know their life and their relationship is none of my business, but I can't stop thinking about it. They seemed like such a good couple, and I thought they really wanted a child."

"I think we all thought that."

"Dylan seemed so happy and excited about it in the beginning.”

“Do you think he was excited about having a kid, or excited about the idea of having a kid?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the whole expectation versus reality thing,” Davian says. “You know, how you daydream about something so much that you kind of build up this unrealistic picture of it in your head? Then, whenever the real thing happens or you get what you thought you wanted, it’s a total shock because it’s nothing like what you imagined.”

“I did that a little, in the beginning,” Félix says. “But it’s not making me want to change my mind.”

“I did it too,” Davian says. “Before we even started the process, I had my ideas about how it was gonna go. That’s why I struggled so hard at the beginning, ‘cause it wasn’t looking anything at all like I thought it was going to, and the reality was scaring the hell out of me.”

“You were thinking we shouldn’t have a baby after all, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but not because I didn’t want one. It was only because I was so freaked out by how difficult it was going to be, especially for you. I didn’t want you to suffer. I don’t like seeing you in pain or not feeling good,” Davian tells him. “Once I calmed down, though, I was fine. Well… mostly fine.”

“Mostly?”

“I’m still worried, and I’m still scared sometimes.“

“I think that’s normal,” Félix says. “But you don’t feel like we made the wrong choice?”

“Not at all,” Davian assures him. “Maybe we should’ve thought it through a bit more, but I think we were always going to want this in the end. I wouldn’t want to stop now. Not for anything.”

Félix is silent for a while, but at last he says very quietly, "Do you think Dylan will really do it? The... the termination, I mean."

"I don't know," Davian says. "I hope not, 'cause I wouldn't want to think of him having to live with that choice for the rest of his life. But, maybe he's the type who'd be totally fine with it? Who knows? I guess if you don't think of it as a person, maybe it'd be okay."

"I thought of our baby as a person the moment I knew she was inside me."

"I don't know if I did," Davian confesses. "Maybe in an abstract way? Like, I knew she was in there, and I didn't want anything to happen to her, but it was a little hard for me to think about her in like, tangible terms. When she became really real for me was a couple weeks ago, when we heard her heartbeat."

“That was magical,” Félix says.

“It really was. It was like she was saying hello to us.”

“Letting us know she’s there.” Félix slides one hand down to caress his growing belly. “I love her so much already, even though we’re still months away from meeting her. I can’t imagine ever wanting to give her up, much less deliberately doing… what Dylan says he wants to do.”

“Me either.”

“How does someone reach a point where they decide to do something so horrible and desperate?”

“I’d say ‘desperate’ is the right word,” Davian says.

“One would have to be, if they thought that was the best alternative,” says Félix. “But how could something like that even happen? How does anyone go from joy to desperation so quickly?”

"Know what I think?" Davian says. "I think complacency is the reason why Zahir and Dylan are where they’re at right now.”

"Complacency?"

"Yeah. When things are mostly easy for a really long time, people get used to it. Like, they get set in their ways or whatever. Then, when something big hits, they can't deal with it, and you start seeing them react in ways you never expected they would."

"Do you think they believed having a baby would be easy?"

"I kinda get the feeling maybe Dylan did, and when things started going sideways, his instinct was to try to escape from the problem. I totally get that, because it's my instinct a lot of the time. But, I know it's just gonna end up hurting both of us if I take off again, which is why I'm trying really hard to fight it now whenever I feel like I gotta run. It's still a challenge, though. You know?"

"I know, but you've been doing so well."

"Because you told me how much I was hurting you before, and I don't want to do that any more," Davian says. "But, maybe Dylan doesn't realize he's hurting Zahir, or he's too afraid and angry to care right now."

“Or maybe he really doesn’t love him.”

“Maybe,” Davian concedes. “I think he probably does, though. I mean, look at how many people assume that I don’t really love you, just because I’m absolute crap when it comes to talking about feelings and stuff. But, you know it’s not true.”

“Please don’t say negative things about yourself. I don’t like it when you do that,” Félix says. “None of us are perfect, but I know you’re trying your best to change, and you’re getting better at communicating. You’re not crap. You’re a work in progress.”

Davian smiles. “I love that you’re willing to put up with me while I figure stuff out.”

“We’re both figuring things out, mon cœur. I’m trying to learn how to be less bossy, and less clingy, and less… lots of other things I know you don’t like.”

“You can be as clingy as you want,” Davian says. “I realize it’s hard for you to not be like that right now, and I don’t mind.”

“Hormones,” Félix says.

“Hormones,” Davian echoes. “I know they’re making you feel all weird and not like your normal self, but look at what we’re getting out of it.”

“Bad skin, strange cravings, mood swings, and morning sickness that sometimes lasts into the afternoon.”

“And fabulous hair. Don’t forget the fabulous hair.”

“It is a lot fuller and shinier now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s gonna look great on the beach, with the ocean breeze blowing through it," Davian says. "I can already see you looking super sexy in your bikini, strolling along that golden sand in Tartosa.”

“I can hardly wait to go there with you," Félix says. "I want to explore everywhere, and try new food, and I want you to make love with me under the stars.”

“Just like our very first time.”

Just like that. Slow and gentle, like we’re learning each other’s bodies all over again.”

“I love you so much,” Davian says. “You’re amazing and beautiful, and I definitely want to make love with you on the beach.”

Félix snuggles close and rests his head on Davian’s shoulder. “Remember what we talked about the night of the Internet Awards? How you said I should get a pretty white dress, and we could repeat our vows in front of our family and friends?”

“I remember,” Davian says. “Things got so crazy, we never actually revisited that idea, did we? You deserve a nice wedding, or... whatever we'd call it, since we're already married. Getting married by a chaplain in the field hospital in Belomisia wasn't much."

"Yes, it was. It was everything," Félix says. "I just wish I'd been wearing something other than camouflage."

"At least you were wearing pants. I was in a hospital gown, don't forget."

"I remember. The circumstances weren't exactly conducive to a suit."

"I'd still love to see you in a pretty white dress," Davian says.

“I still want to wear one, too,” says Félix. “In Tartosa.”

“This winter, while you’re pregnant?”

“No. After the baby comes. Next summer or autumn? If we start planning now, that will give everyone time to organize their schedules and their budgets.”

“I’m liking this plan,” Davian says. “Hopefully all our friends can come. And imagine all those cute babies in their little formal onesies or whatever.”

“Our child is not going to be wearing a onesie to our fantasy wedding.”

Davian turns enough to be able to kiss him on the forehead. “I don’t know what I like more, the idea of calling it a fantasy wedding, or the fact that you think our kid’s going to be wearing a fancy outfit.”

“Of course she’s going to wear a fancy outfit. Do you really expect any child of mine not to be fancy when the occasion calls for it?”

"You're right. What was I thinking?" Davian laughs. "Want to tell me about it? Your vision for our fantasy wedding."

And so he does. Davian holds him close, and listens while he talks about carrying a bouquet of yellow flowers and walking barefoot on the beach at sunset. As he continues to speak, his voice becomes softer and his words slower, until he drifts off right in the middle of a sentence.

As for Davian, he lies awake for a long time. He thinks about how lucky he is to have this intelligent, beautiful, gentle man in his life; this person who loves him steadfastly and who has such unwavering faith in his ability to become a better version of himself. He doesn't want to contemplate what would have happened if they hadn't made the right choices when they'd reached a crossroad. Most likely, it would have been exactly as Félix had said. They might have been just like Zahir and Dylan, one argument away from the end of their relationship.

Davian knows he would have bitterly regretted that. He would've blamed himself, and as much as Félix might deny it, he probably would've blamed Davian too, and neither would have been wrong. He knows his difficulty with expressing himself and his knee-jerk response to things that make him angry or scared are their biggest relationship hurdles. Learning healthier ways to manage his reaction to stressful situations has helped a lot, and although he still wants to try to outrun his problems sometimes, he's discovered that it's actually easier to face them head-on. Maybe not initially, but once he's past the hard part — acknowledging how he feels — it's less difficult to figure out how to move forward.

He thinks about Dylan, and wonders whether anybody's ever told him that running isn't the answer, that it's literally impossible to put distance between himself and his problems, no matter how far he runs. Maybe no one ever has, and he and Zahir have been really lucky so far, or perhaps he knows perfectly well and just doesn't care.

Davian hopes it's the former and not the latter. It's one thing to make a mistake because you don't know you're doing wrong, but it's another thing entirely to ignore what you know is right.

He wishes he could talk to Dylan, but he doubts it'll happen. If he won't even listen to his own husband or to people who are supposed to be his friends, what are the chances that he'd pay attention to somebody who's little more than an acquaintance?

Davian sighs. He tries to tell himself to stop dwelling on it. There's nothing he can do, and it's none of his business anyway. The best he can hope for is that Dylan comes to his senses before it's too late.

Meanwhile, Davian has his own life and his own love to focus on. As much as he'd like everyone to see the same positive progress in their lives as he and Félix have, and to be as contented as they are, he realizes the only relationship in which he has any control over the outcome is his own. If nothing else, he's determined to do his best to make it a success.

[castcharmperson]

The Dispel Magic Incident - Part 7

[shows up 15 weeks late with starbucks] hey friends, this is still a thing. Will also be updated on ao3 if you’d prefer to read it there. Check the notes for links.

Anyway, have some Merle

The furious clicking of the new umbrastaff was similar enough to the old umbrastaff, so Merle didn’t even flinch when it was replaced with shouting. “Where the fuck have you been?!” 

Davenport snickered across the table from him and Merle couldn’t help but join him. “Taako, I’ve been in here all afternoon.” He was sure whatever Taako was upset about was important, but honestly he had a really good hand right now that he’d love to finish.

“I blame you for this,” Taako glared at Davenport and the Captain just laughed more. “Merle, can I borrow you to do your fuckin’ job for a second?”

“We only need a few more minutes to wrap up this game.”

“Oh my gods, fine!” Taako pulled out a third chair and dropped down into it. “Cap’n’s going to win.”

“You don’t know that…” Merle muttered, but he was probably right. He couldn’t remember the last time Taako had joined in a game of cards, let alone just sat and watched the two of them play. Of course Merle thought their games were interesting, two masterminds battling it out, but none of the crew usually agreed with him.

He threw the game. Davenport knew it, Taako did too, but Merle couldn’t really care less. “Next time, Dav.”

“Of course, Merle.” Their Captain looked at Taako for a moment, then left the kitchen.

“This really isn’t the best place to do this…” Taako had leaned his body back, tilting the chair dangerously as Davenport left. The house was still full of people, some packing after a long week of Candlenights, but Merle was sure the majority of them were going to be here for the foreseeable future. It was nice that Dav was staying as long as he had been.

“What exactly are we doing, Taako?” Merle didn’t bother beating around the bush. He wouldn’t be aggressive with any bush, for that matter. He knew Taako would rather dance around the subject, but if it was cards watching serious, Taako must be in a hurry too.

He still wouldn’t look at him, though. The chair was back on four legs but Taako was focused on the door. “Hey, Barrold!”

“Hm?” Barry walked back from halfway down the hall until he could poke his head through the kitchen door. His eyes shifted between the two of them before his eyebrows shot into his receding hairline. Merle had thought for sure that the pack bond or whatever with the Raven Queen would fix that. He’d picked his god for the looks, among other things. He was surprised Barry hadn’t developed the deadly cheekbones Kravitz seemed blessed with.

“Oh.” Barry seemed to know what was going on.

“Yeah. We need a lift to my office.”

“I can do that.”

“Okay hold on.” Merle held up his hands. “The last time you two needed me to do something, I was getting stabbed with forks.”

Barry rolled his eyes but Taako nodded. “No, no, the old man has a point.” At least one of these kids had sense. Taako looked up from where he’d been focused on the umbrastaff, still in his grip. Oh shit, this really was important. Merle sat up a little straighter, missing the gleam in Taako’s eyes of a goof on the horizon. “Merle, I know you’ve literally never done this before, but we need you to pretend to be a cleric.”

Merle huffed, sliding off the chair. “Ha ha, very funny. Now what is going on.”

Barry had already carved open a rip between the planes and Merle was walking through it. The Astral Plane, if this one was anything like what they’d studied back at the IPRE, was technically closer to the Celestial Plane than the Prime Material was. Geographically speaking, he should feel closer to Pan. Maybe this reality was different than their homeworld’s, maybe not, but Merle never really liked the Astral Plane. The crisp chill from walking across it lingered, long after the portal closed. At least Kravitz didn’t have death radiating off of him like this, despite being Death.

“Not that I don’t love spending time with Barry, but why isn’t your boyfriend plane-hopping with you?” Merle asked as the portal closed up and Taako pushed aside a few papers on his desk. He nearly dropped something, before aiming the umbrastaff at the office door and Mage Handing it closed. “Pan damnit, if you two wanted more blood, you really didn’t have to kidnap me.”

“I don’t want your fucking blood!” Taako snapped, but Barry put a hand on his shoulder. The scythe was gone, just their regular goth boy in denim, looking more grim than he ever did when he told Merle about his work. Taako placed his hand over Barry’s, squeezing once, before pushing him off. He took a deep breath. “Merle, you remember Wonderland, right?”

“Been trying not to.” The words slipped out before he could think twice about them. But it was true! That quest was easily their worst. Sure, Pan’s radio silence wasn’t caused by the liches, but Merle didn’t know that at the time. And everyone can say what they want about his healing abilities but…

At the end of the day, they were all alive. That’s what mattered, that’s what he tried to remember. It was a little hard, knowing they all got their memories back and Magnus still had some missing. Aside from that though, they didn’t lose too much. Right?

Merle hadn’t even realized he’d glanced down at his feet, face twisted in frustration before intentionally smoothing back out again, until he looked back up at Taako.

He’d meant it when he offered to take the extra spin for Taako. He really wished one of them had followed through; Magnus could have afforded to lose another finger since he got his whole body back anyway.

Taako looked fine, better than that if Merle’s being honest. What had Taako said, looking better than ninety percent of Faerun? It was true, still was. But he’d be very plain if they’d gone back to their original plane. The difference was significant, now that Merle could compare him to Lup.

“I can’t--”

“Not that.” Taako stepped around from the desk. Ah, shorts and a crop top in winter made a lot more sense now. Not that Merle knew much about winter fashion-- it was always shorts weather back at Merlegaritaville.

“Those do not look good.” He stepped closer and Taako met him half way, Barry right behind him.

“I promise you, they feel worse.” That would explain the new umbrastaff. Merle looked at Barry. Of course Taako told Lup, but why did Barry know first? It wasn’t like they could kill Taako and bring him back with a new body. Who else knew?

“Okay, could you not with the face? I’m sure you can do your cleric shit with my spell still up, this is a courtesy.”

“It would be a lot harder without a visual reference,” Barry tried, but Merle had heard enough.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” He held his soulwood arm to the gash across Taako’s stomach and the budding leaves curled backwards. “Any issues with this one?”

“Uuh, dex mostly. Loss of appetite? That could be from other stuff though.”

Barry made an inquisitive noise at that, which made Merle feel at least a little bit better. Taako had talked to him about that already. Merle let the two of them go on whatever half spoken face journey they were going on, and focused on the biggest wound at hand. The knees were important, but this one was near vital organs. Merle had seen first hand how many hit points this had knocked out and it somehow managed to look worse than it did before.

“Barry and I figured it’s necrotic scarring.” Taako rushed out, Barry grumbling something beside him.

“Yeah,” Merle nodded softly. What he was finding aligned with that. He took a step back, able to look Taako in the eye without craning his neck. “I’m not death domain, Taako. I can’t reverse this. We could try to find a cleric who is--”

“They wouldn’t have a hundred cycles of experience. I’m not interested in letting them look at this.”

Huh. Merle didn’t bother to fight down the smile pulling at the edges of his beard. Taako didn’t return it by any means, but he scoffed and rolled his eyes, which Merle knew was basically the same thing.

“Merle, I…” Barry started, fidgeting with nothing for a moment. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m worried he’s getting worse.”

Just based on what he was seeing, what he knew of the wounds, that sounded right. But Merle looked to Taako instead. He seemed occupied fixing the hem of his shirt, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeves. He didn’t notice the silence right away. When he did, he frowned. “What?”

“Has it been getting worse?” Merle asked.

If it had been literally any other conversation, Merle could have laughed at the face Taako pulled. Even with how serious he knew this conversation was, he was still tempted. Taako shifted his weight, leaning back slightly on the umbrastaff like he used to.

“It’s… uh…” His eyes seemed to go unfocused for a moment, as he stared at Merle. Merle knew that look from a copy he was familiar with over his own face. Seeing two versions of the same person, one you shared a century with and the other was your strange adventuring buddy.

Sometimes it was easier when they were just three idiots running around collecting magical items and laughing together as they nearly avoided death.

The person he was, when he met Taako the second time, was not someone Taako would trust with this confession. Merle wasn’t proud of that, but it was what it was. All he could do was take a deep breath and wait for which version of him Taako saw today.

Instead, Taako closed his eyes. They were screwed up tight, like if he couldn’t see, no one would hear his confession. “It’s worse. I didn’t have trouble walking a year ago.”

“Alright, glad we’re on the same page.” Taako opened one eye, glaring at Merle without much heat, but Merle continued. “And I’m glad you’re not waiting another year to tell me because this thing is going to kill you.”

Barry blanched at that, though Merle didn’t really understand his shock. The guy was a necromancer, this was how that arcana worked. Hell, he made the dang Bell, didn’t he know what it did?

Taako opened both eyes, expression blank for a moment until he moved the umbrastaff in front of him and leaning forward. His stance, his voice, his face, all of it was more certain and serious that Merle had heard in a while. “I don’t want to die.”

“Good.”

[daily-davenport]

Davenport Headcanons 2: Electric Boogaloo ft. Battle Stuff & The Mug Saga

Here we go again! (Sorry couldn’t draw today)

Davenport worries about being taken seriously but also consider: Davenport is extra and enjoys a flair for the dramatic at times. Remember Merlsula? How Merle’s just basically a cosplayer? Davenport is the exact same way, if not worse. Dude showed up to a Candlenights party in a full suit of armor. Either he and Merle are a menace together for parties or they have a long-running rivalry.

Davenport didn’t go into the Stolen Century knowing how to fight-fight. He knew basic self defense and had general strength training that was required at the IPRE, but after the first cycle, Davenport sat down with Magnus to learn.

Davenport learned how to throw darts from 1,999 party points Merle Highchurch and then taught himself knife throwing from that. 

Merle absolutely lost it when Davenport asked him to spot him when he first started practicing (*davenport voice* “Hey Merle? I’m gonna go throw knives, Ca- Can you come make sure I don’t die.”)

Davenport uses the environment around him to fight and causes some of the most collateral damage of the crew when fighting.

Davenport and Lup are the fastest flanker group. If they add Magnus or Taako, they can get more raw destruction, but Dav n Lup are good at sneaking fast (taako prefers sauntering) behind lines and striking the essential points.

Davenport, Lucretia, and Merle are the best defensive group (Magnus is a bit more, offense is the best defense SC timeline-wise) Between Lucretia’s shields and defensive spells, Dav’s illusions and commandeering, and Merle’s sometimes buffing/healing, more often aoe attacks, they can tank their way back to the starblaster. 

Davenport literally backpacks Magnus (for their size difference, it’s just safer in fights) and Magnus loves it. It’s only for last resort really cause Dav hates it and doesn’t have nearly as many assist spells as Lucretia or Merle.

Lucretia and Davenport have the least amount of deaths, and even though Davenport has more deaths overall, Lucretia died before him first.

Taako can get really popular on planes if they’re not careful (we’re talking cults n junk) but on one plane the crew found a “Taako Look-a-Like Contest” run by some fans. So you know Taako enters. And loses. Most of the crew enters for funsies and (after a disguise self spell) Davenport wins a very cheap mug reading “#1 Taako”. Taako refused to talk to him other than to demand the mug. 

Dav drinks from it exclusively. 

(Lup could’ve entered but why? She’s the cooler twin.)

In a Modern au Davenport would be a speedrunner and I honestly don’t know what to do with this information. It’s too powerful.

Davenport knows where everyone’s hidden stash of something is. He helped build the ship, he knows all the best hiding spots. He and Lucretia share a wine stash after they both found each other’s.

Davenport cycle 1: Hands clasped uncertainly behind back as Magnus cries - would patting him on the shoulder be inappropriate? Should he get Merle?? Should he maintain a professional distance in a situation like this???

Davenport cycle 72: Fell asleep on Taako who is gleefully using him as an excuse to not do things again.

Davenport stays around the edge during team dogpiles. Not because he’s uncomfortable (close quarters with the same people for 10 years knocks that out of you) but because somehow no matter how they start, Magnus always ends up on top and crushes whoever’s in the center (normally Barry cause he doesn’t learn).

About seven cycles in Davenport just started drenching all his food in hot sauce. No one could figure out why cause he clearly couldn’t handle it but he just. kept eating it anyway and built up a tolerance after a few months.

(I imagine gnomish food is spicy and Davenport just got hit by homesickness and did it to feel closer to home)

(Davenport probably got a lot of flak for being a “Bad Gnome” back in their original plane.)

After a crit fail on both their parts, Magnus accidentally punted Davenport into a lake once. (He lived no worries but Magnus almost died out of shock/guilt)

Someone confessed their feelings to Davenport once, and in a moment of controlled panic, he threw his arm around Merle (who was closest) and said, I’m in a relationship already. Without missing a beat, Merle threw his arm around Dav too and winked/finger gunned at the other person and told them his side of the relationship was open and to call him.

(It works whether if you ship Davenchurch or not: cause you know Merle keeps the ruse going and Davenport isn’t gonna be cowed he’s been messed with before this ain’t his first rodeo. Set up for a terrible romcom that cycle)

Davenport has too many mugs. Taako decided to tempt him into using another equally terrible mug and everyone took to it.

(They all broke when the Starblaster crashed on Lucretia’s year alone. She dug through and found the #1 Taako mug shards and repaired it, and used the other shards as weaponry and traps to conserve spell slots. Davenport didn’t mind and was very proud)

[youhearstatic]

it’s not a super specific prompt but just some good ole fashioned blupjeans mutual pining? that’s my SHIT

(Hey! How about a good old fashioned mutual pining trope? I’ve never tried this one! See if you can name that trope before it happens… Also, look, uh, this one gets long as hell. 4500 words long, yo. Please, please give me some reblogs on this monster, okay? Do it for the blups.)

They can and have done a lot of things to claim the light of creation in the last thirty eight cycles. They’d fought dragons and demons and religious cultists. They’d set up farms and rebuilt towns and searched for an animal thought extinct.

They couldn’t do much when it sank to the bottom of an ocean though.

It wasn’t even a good ocean like the one on the Beach World. This was a cold, merciless ocean. The Starblaster hovered over the spot where they were certain it landed for a few days, trying to think of any way to recover the light from beneath the water.

Finally they have to admit defeat. They will spend the year learning what they can of the world so they can record its stories.

Merle disappears into parley and the other six of them discuss their options. They’ll go in shifts, keeping two close to the ship and trade off with the other two pairs.

Lucretia wants to talk to residents the many port towns they’ve seen here and learn as many stories as she can. Taako wants to find new cooking supplies that will build up their stockpile. They decide their goals overlap well enough they’ll stick together.

Magnus and Davenport decide to focus on the Brigade outpost. The two of them hope to study military strategies and find training opportunities.

Barry and Lup will learn what they can of the science and magic of this world. During their expedition they will focus their time at the largest city they’ve found.

(Lots more after the readmore, apologies if you’re on mobile! This is also your last chance to guess that trope!)

In their first foray into the city they focus their time on the large temple. The clerics there are collectors of knowledge. They are happy to let them study in their massive library in exchange for a donation and attendance at their services. It’s more than a fair price.

The problem is that their visit coincides with the biggest religious ceremony the temple hosts. People from all over make the pilgrimage to the city for the event. Finding a place to stay for their expedition is difficult. They are lucky to overpay enormously in exchange for a single attic room in a small inn.

“We should have just called back to the ship and switched off,” Barry points out. “Dav and Magnus wouldn’t have cared.”

“No, but I’m ready for some not-Starblaster time, aren’t you?” Lup asks as they climb the stairs.

Then she opens the door to the attic room - a door that is in fact more access hatch than door. Lup nearly closes it and agrees to return to the ship. Only extreme stubbornness and the fact that she’s literally just said she didn’t want to go back to the Starblaster makes her enter the room.

The room is a room in name only. In reality it’s a space between beams. There is a narrow path of space where they can stand up before the roof slants down towards the bare wood floor on two sides of the room. A lone bed is at one end of the narrow space and a water pitcher and wash basin on a stand at the other end, with the access hatch door in the center.

She clears the entry so Barry can come in. “See,” she says, “if we’d gone back to the ship you would have missed these glorious accommodations.” She turns and drops her bag on the floor. “What a shithole.”

“Do you want to go back to the Starblaster?” he asks quietly.

Lup shakes her head. “It’s fine. We can head back in the morning.”

“Okay,” Barry answers.

He takes a step towards the end of the room with the wash basin and drops his bag on the floor. He pulls off his red IPRE robe and blankets it out on the floor by his bag.

Lup asks, “What are you doing?”

Barry bends to pull off his heavy boots but not before she catches his face turning scarlet. “I’ll sleep over here,” he answers, carefully lining up his boots next the wall to avoid meeting her eye. “You take the bed.”

“Barold.”

“It’s, uh, it’s fine, Lup. I don’t mind.”

Lup comes over and pulls at his sleeve. “Come on, Barry. We can share the bed. You don’t have to sleep in the floor.”

“Lup, really, I don’t…”

“Barry. Come on. I’m not having you sleep on the floor. And I’m not sleeping in the floor either. So, let’s just…” she lets go of his shirt and gestures both hands towards the bed impatiently.

For a long moment he just stands there then he picks up his robe, shakes it out, and walks over to the bed.

“Do you have a side preference?” he asks quietly.

“Barry,” Lup says, sounding exhausted, “I could not possibly give less of a shit.”

He crosses to the far side of the bed, bending over to avoid knocking his head on the slanted roof.

Lup squats by her bag to rummage through it for clothes to sleep in. She pulls out an old tank top and a pair of shorts. When she looks up she sees Barry has flipped the blanket back. It sits on the side of the bed he’s left for her. He’s got his robe thrown over him like a blanket. And he’s wearing his pants.

“Barold Jarold Sildar Hallwinter Bluejeans Starblaster, do you sleep in your bluejeans?” Lup asks, horrified.

“Just for tonight,” he responds.

“What?” Lup asks. “Oh, come on. Are you so embarrassed to change that you’re going to sleep in your jeans?”

“It’s fine,” he insists, turning on his side to face the wall.

Lup rolls her eyes as she pulls her shirt over her head. She knows he won’t turn around but she doesn’t actually care if he does. She almost wishes he would. Maybe then something would happen without them having to talk about it.

They’d have to talk about it, though. She doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s all too complicated. They work together. They live together. They literally can’t get away from each other. It’s too much to risk.

Isn’t it?

She throws her shirt on top of her bag and pulls the tank top on. Unhooking her bra, she’s shrugging her arms free while keeping the tank top on before she stops to wonder if she should leave it on. Barold is in jeans and she’s taking her bra off?

Fuck it, the answer is not for her to be less comfortable.

“Get your jeans off,” she tells him as she pulls her own pants off. “Knowing you are trying to sleep in jeans is giving me hives or something.” Once her pants have landed on top of her bag with her shirt she grabs the shorts from the bed and slips them on.

Lup climbs onto the bed on her knees and begins poking Barry in the back. “Come on. Seriously. Sleeping in jeans? I’ll give you they’re useful the rest of the time but sleeping, Barry? No.”

“It’s one night, Lup,” he grumbles but he’s getting up. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

She’s tempted to watch but doesn’t, turning to give him the same privacy he afforded her. She already knows he wears boxers. They’ve all seen each other’s laundry enough to know every article of clothing by heart. He has navy blue ones, two different types of plaids, and red ones with white hearts that she’s wanted to ask about for years now. Something about them screams Valentine’s Gift Set and she wants to know the story. Were they a serious gift? A gag gift? Did he get his heart broken? Was he…

Lup’s heart  stutters wildly for a few beats. Was he in a relationship when they left? It’s been decades and any relationship would clearly be in the past what with all the time that has passed and the fact that the Hunger devoured their home world. But it makes her skin feel too tight to think about it. It makes the blanket touching her skin feel hot and made of sandpaper. He’s never said anything about someone he left behind but Barry can be so quiet about things. That’s a great quality if he’s keeping a confidence you don’t want shared but when you’re worried he’s mourning a great lost love the trait is frustrating.

The bed gives as he sits back down and suddenly the boxers are all she can think about. If Barry Bluejeans is settling into bed beside her in boxers given to him by a lover that was eaten by the Hunger she won’t be able to stand it. She’ll have to get up and march her way out of the city back to the Starblaster.

Lup flops over onto her back and peeks. She sees red. And hearts. Fuck. She flicks her hand at the single light overhead and plunges the room into darkness. It doesn’t help. Her darkvision takes over and the stupid boxers are burned into her brain anyway.

He pulls his IPRE robe over himself like a blanket and arranges himself facing the wall.

Lup squeezes her eyes shut. Her fists are tight at her side. She has a few options here.

One, put this horrible thought out of her head and go to sleep. Her fingernails bite into her palms. That one’s not going to happen.

Two, get up and go back to the Starblaster. But then she’d have to come up with an excuse and she’s absolutely blank for even the most transparent explanation.

Three, ask him. No, she’s not going to ask him if he’s wearing the gift from some tragically stolen lover. That is absolutely not a thing she’s going to…

“What’s with the most cliche pair of boxers ever, Barry?”

Barry tenses beside her and she braces for his stuttered explanation. Shit, she’s still going to have to come up with that excuse to head back to the ship, isn’t she?

“They’re…,” Barry begins, “they were…” His voice is a husky whisper beside her in the darkness. He curls in on himself, pulling his shoulders in tight and she feels so much worse now. She could have kept her bad feelings to herself but no, she’s reminded him now too. Brilliant, just brilliant.

“I’m sorry,” she says honestly. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me. None of my business.”

“It’s okay,” he says and his voice has that quality she recognizes so well. That something that says he’s pushing himself and it makes her weirdly proud to hear it. He’s changed so much from those first cycles. He’s stronger and more self assured and he forces himself to stand up to challenges in a deliberate way that makes her feel fiercely protective.

“You, uh, you know those, those like, uh, gift sets? For Valentine’s Day?” he asks and she can practically hear the color in his cheeks as he speaks.

She forces out a noise of affirmative understanding.

“Well, uh, the, um, the boxers, uh,” he’s stammering over the words with such difficulty her heart hurts again. “They, uh, they came with… you know those… What do they call them? The, uh, the candy with the cashews and caramel and…” he goes quiet. “I guess it doesn’t matter,” he apologizes.

“Turtles.” she supplies in the middle of his apology.

“Yes!” he answers and the change in his voice is clear even in the single syllable.

“It was, uh, a whole box of turtles. Not the, um, assorted stuff like Valentine’s candy usually has. You know, with all the, uh, all the weird flavors no one likes.”

“Those are good,” she agrees quietly. “The turtles, I mean. The other ones, yeah, usually half of them are disgusting.”

“So I bought ‘em. I, uh, wasn’t going to…” he stops because Lup is laughing. “What?” he asks.

She can’t answer him. The whole bed is shaking from the force of her laughter.

He turns over onto his back so he can look at her though he can’t see much in the dark. “What?” he asks again.

Lup still can’t give him words. She sits up and leans towards her knees, wiping her eyes. She’d completely tied herself in knots about some phantom love and it was just about Barry wanting chocolate.

“They’re,” she manages before her composure slips away again. She wipes tears from her eyes, feeling relieved and ridiculous and boy, that really is a lot of relief, she’s swimming in it. 

“Sorry,” she tells him once she can handle speaking. “I don’t know, it just,” she laughs again, “just hit me funny, I guess.”

She lays back down and turns to face him. He turns his head towards her but she can tell that between the dark and his lack of glasses, he’s not seeing much. His face has that soft look he gets when he can’t see what’s going on. She wants to put her hand on his cheek so much it’s nearly a physical pain. She winds her fingers in the blanket to keep the hand in check.

His eyes dart over her face, trying to sort out details in the darkness and the blur but he gives up and turns to look at the ceiling. “I wasn’t going to keep them but then they fit and they were pretty comfortable,” he says, the words flowing out in a rush. “Now I get a new pair every year thanks to the bond engine,” he adds. “If I’d known, uh, I would have picked something more reasonable.”

“Nah,” she says, “they’re great.”

He can hear the smile in her voice and it’s nice. It doesn’t feel like she’s laughing at him. He doesn’t know what she’s amused by but it’s not the bad feeling of missing a joke or worse, being the joke. This feels comfortable and nice. “Thanks,” he says, unsure what else to say to that comment.

“I’m sorry I laughed,” she tells him and that smile he sensed before feels absent now. She’s being sincere.

“It’s okay,” he assures her. “I, uh, I’m glad it was funny, I guess.” He wants to tell her that he likes her laugh. He could probably say it any other time and it wouldn’t be that weird. But now, in the dark, in a shared bed, with the feeling of her eyes on him, he can’t make the words come out. The comment feels too intimate in these circumstances.

He yawns and pulls his robe up to his chin. As soon as he does that his legs are cold. There had been some benefit to sleeping in jeans, after all.

“Here,” she tells him, flipping the blanket out to cover his chest.

“Oh, that’s, uh,” he begins to protest. “You don’t have to…”

“Shhh, Barry,” she interrupts. She kicks her foot against the bottom of the blanket to spread it over his lower half. When she lowers her leg it brushes against his. The accidental touch of bare legs freezes both of them in place.

“Guess, uh, guess we should, um…” Barry says in that quiet, husky whisper that nearly makes her shiver.

“Get some sleep,” she finishes abruptly, needing to distract herself from the rumble of his gravelly voice and her awareness of his body beside her. “Yup, we should, uh, do that,” she agrees. She’d felt bad he was cold with his robe as a blanket but now she’s hyper aware that their mostly bare skin is separated by nothing but a handsbreadth of space.

Lup turns over onto her back and stares at the ceiling above. She can’t believe she’s gotten herself into this situation. She had not just willingly walked into a one bed situation but insisted they stay when he offered they return to the ship. When had she turned into a masochist? Her awareness of Barry Bluejeans is not a surprise. She’s caught herself looking at him or thinking about him or assembling lists of reasons both to grab him and kiss him and reasons to absolutely not do that.

Barry is too nervous to move. That brief touch of their legs has short circuited his system in a way he’s vaguely ashamed of. It was nothing and he’s laying here unable to think of anything else as if he were a school boy who just found his dad’s dirty magazines. Not that Barry ever experienced that situation since his dad died before he was born.

He’s too hot now under the blanket and robe combination so he pulls the robe out and drops it to the floor beside the bed. She hadn’t insisted he take off his shirt and now his fingers toy with a button, needing something to fidget with.

When Barry shifts, Lup glances his way again. She catches a flash of his robe in the darkness after he frees it from the blanket. He drops it to the floor and she remembers his intent to sleep on the floor. Who else would have even done that? Davenport, maybe. Only Barry would immediately assume it, though.

“Hey,” she says, as a wave of affection washes over her. “Thanks.” She slides her hand over and finds his arm, traces up to where it rests on his chest and takes his hand. She curls her fingers into his and leaves her hand lying there on his chest. The impulse had gotten away from her but she’s determined to be nonchalant about it.

“Thanks?” he asks, his fingers twitching briefly before settling with hers.

“Yeah,” she says. “Thanks. I know I’m bossy sometimes. The room, the pants…” she rubs her thumb along the edge of his hand then stops herself. “So thanks for rolling with that, I guess.”

“Oh,” he says. “Sure. Um, I mean, you’re welcome?” He squeezes her fingers then relaxes. “It, uh, doesn’t bother me. You just know what you want,” he tells her. His words are slow and thoughtful. “That’s a good way to be.”

Lup can’t respond to that. Right now ‘what she wants’ is to pull his hand and the rest of him close and snuggle into his warmth, feel his skin pressed against hers, maybe find his mouth with hers and… she cuts off the line of thought before it goes more out of control.

“Do you think that temple has anything that will help us?” he asks.

It takes a moment to pull her mind onto the topic after the track it had taken. “Oh, uh, yeah, hope so.”

She manages to fill her head with the mission that brought them here. Or at least she keeps it focused on that enough to distract herself from thoughts of Barry Bluejeans beside her in red boxers with little hearts on them. Red boxers that he got free with a box of candy and now gets yearly from the bond engine.

They talk quietly about the plan for the next day. They’ll look around the temple’s libraries enough to decide if it’s worth a return trip then head out of the city to meet up with Davenport and Magnus on the ship. They’ll trade turns and come back later if the temple has anything worth coming back for. If not, they can pick a new target for their next attempt.

Barry’s words are getting softer and less frequent. Lup’s fingers are still twined with his and neither of them are discussing this fact nor moving to reclaim their hands. He wishes he could stay awake and appreciate the feeling but sleep is definitely getting its hooks into him.

Lup hears his words falter for the final time and then transform into gentle snores. Her arm is still resting on his chest and she should take it back. She tells herself to pull her hand back and turn over, go to sleep, wake up in the morning, pretend none of this happened. But she feels warm and happy in this moment and sees little reason to push the feeling away.

Now that her worry about the source of his red and white heart underwear has been solved she feels silly for the fear. She knows he’s looked at her the same way she’s looked at him. Taako has hinted again and again that she should go for it and he’d never encourage something if he thought it would end badly for her.

But the worry of what could go wrong remains. And the worry of someone like him - good and kind and ever thoughtful of other people’s feelings - and someone like her - headstrong and impatient and not good at the give and take relationships seem to require - is another thing she can’t quite let go of.

Like Barry’s hand, she realizes.

Lup forces her fingers to untangle from his. He tightens his grip for a moment in his sleep but then lets her slip free. Her hand feels wrong now after the rightness of being caught with his. She crosses her arms over her belly and hugs herself. Her warm and happy feeling has disappeared.

She turns over to face away from him and pulls her legs up, curling in to comfort herself. Something is going to have to change soon. She has to give up fighting this feeling or get much better at the battle. She can’t remain neutral much longer, pretending her feelings don’t exist.

Trying to relax and distract herself for sleep, Lup begins running through recipes in her head. She wonders if she could find the ingredients to make turtles in this city. Just because he’s gotten her thinking of them, though. That’s all.

—

Barry wakes with a start. It takes him a moment to realize what pulled him out of sleep. The room is still dark and his eyes can’t make out much beyond the pale, blurry square of moonlight at the far end of the room where the uncurtained window shows the sky. Not the Starblaster, he realizes, then instantly it comes back to him where he is, just as Lup cries out again.

“Barry! Please!” her voice is low and she sounds almost anguished.

“Lup,” he says, gently touching her arm. “You’re having a nightmare, it’s okay.”

She opens her eyes and he can see the light caught there. In her eyes, light blazes at him so much stronger than the pale glow at the window. “Barry?” she asks, confused.

“You were having a nightmare,” he repeats.

Her eyes go so wide it’s clear even to his terrible human vision. “What did, uh, what did you hear?”

“Nothing really,” he says. “You just, uh, you seemed… upset?” he turns the word up at the end into a question, suddenly unsure what he had heard.

“Oh, uh, okay,” she says hesitantly and swallows. “Thanks,” she says and turns on her side, pulling the blanket around her.

Her breathing is fast and he’s worried. She clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, though. Had she said his name or did he imagine that part? He tries to turn back to face the wall but the blanket is pulled too far towards her side now.

Barry is still for a while, trying to decide between reaching down for his robe in the floor and disturbing her with the movements of the bed. Finally he realizes her breathing has slowed down enough she might be asleep. Slowly, carefully, he shifts himself closer to the edge of the bed, trying to reach down to fumble his hand on the floor, feeling for his IPRE robe. He’s just felt the edge of it when Lup’s arm finds his midsection, her fingers pulling him towards her.

“Lup?” he asks in a voice that’s barely a whisper.

She doesn’t respond, just moves closer, her arm around him as she presses herself tightly to him.

He’s certain she must be unaware. Maybe in her sleep she thinks she’s pulling closer to Taako. He’s not sure what to do but he’s reluctant to disturb her after her dream. Finally, he gives up on the robe and pulls his arm back up to wrap around hers. It’s not a bad position, he decides. He can probably sleep like this.

Lup has forced her breathing to slow and her body to calm itself. He’d thought she was having a nightmare? She doesn’t know what he’d heard but she’s relieved he came to that conclusion, however incorrect it might be. It had definitely not been a nightmare.

When he shifts towards the edge of the bed, Lup became positive he was trying to slip out. He’s probably trying to get away and sleep in the floor like he’d originally intended. Before she can fight the impulse, she’s reaching for him.

He says her name and she bites her lip to keep from answering. Maybe he’ll think she’s asleep. She lets the instinct take over long enough to snuggle up next to him. After a moment he puts his arm with hers and she really relaxes. She’d like to return to her dream but the feeling of his fingers on her arm is good enough.

They both slide slowly back into sleep, pulling closer to each other unconsciously.

—

When Barry wakes up they are facing, their arms wrapped around each other. Her head is tucked down towards his chest and his face is in her hair. There’s none of his middle of the night confusion. When he wakes up this time he knows exactly where he is and what is going on. But he doesn’t move. In this moment, there isn’t a force in the multiverse that could make him.

He’s been in love with her for so long now. Remembering anything before this feeling filled his chest is like remembering being an infant. He’s sure it happened, sure it was a part of his life, but it’s impossible to imagine. Barry feels tears sting his eyes because this moment can’t last. She’ll wake up and laugh at the awkwardness and they’ll go about their day and this will never happen again.

He drops a kiss in her hair and forces himself to take his arm back, sit up, move away from her. Only the thought of her laughing at their position can make him do it. If she treated it like a joke he might break, literally shatter into pieces. Maybe that’s melodramatic but it feels absolutely true.

Lup forces herself to let him slide free. She’s been awake for long enough to see the room brighten around her. She’s been awake long enough to know she doesn’t want to move, possibly ever.

She’s been awake long enough to feel him wake up. She’s been awake long enough to feel a cold dread, knowing he will get up and this moment she’s been clinging to will end. 

She’s been awake long enough to feel the kiss he presses into her hair.

She’s been awake long enough to know she’s lost this war against herself.

She’s been awake long enough to know this is where she belongs.

She’s not going to fight it anymore. She’s not going to try to keep their orbits apart any longer.

Sometime - sometime soon she thinks - they will crash into one another and this will be how she wakes up every morning. It’s inevitable.

And then they won’t let go.

[iknowthekoolaidflavor]

Waking Up in Vegas

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

Pairing: Daveed x Reader

Word Count: About 3.4k

Tagging: @toomanyfandoms109  @drugsdiggs  @serkewen12  @shy-and-awkward-daveed  @nadialinett14  @miightymiighty   @kayleebrynnnn  @pixeledpeople  @olivelongnprosper  @ninatheotter  @twentyonehamiltrash  @lunaaugurium  @jantales  @luna1350  @arii-the-future @juliaguliaa  @tallish-hobbit  @le-sejour

Warning: My sad attempt at slight smut and dry humping

A/N: This took forever to finish! My bad guys lol. Part nine will be the final part!

Day 20

Daveed was laying across the couch snoring softly. I needed to wake him up to tell him he was stuck with me, but it wouldn’t change anything if I didn’t. I took my time taking a shower and getting ready, mentally preparing myself for the conversation we would have later. By the time I stepped out of my bedroom, he was pulling himself off the couch.

He stood, stretching and grinning as his eyes landed on me.

“Good morning”

“Morning”

“Do you have any plans for today? I won’t stay longer than you want me to”, he yawned

“Well...you're going to be here longer than expected anyway”, I said as I pointed to the window

He stepped to the window and peaked outside, “Dammit. Did you know it was supposed to snow today?”

“No. Apparently it was supposed to start last night. With everything that happened, I’m not surprised we didn’t notice”

Daveed nodded and looked everywhere but my face. He knew we had to talk eventually, but he probably wasn’t in a rush given what happened last night.

“You can use my shower if you want”, I said to break the silence, “It’s not like you’re going anywhere anytime soon”

“I feel like I’m in Misery”, he said with a smirk

A smile spread across my face as I started to laugh, “I change my mind. You can trek through the snow and make your way to your hotel”

“I’m just joking”, he paused as that same soft smile appeared, “Where is your shower?”

I quickly pointed him in the right direction. The same feeling I’ve been trying to avoid for weeks was back, but for once I didn’t wasn’t it to stop. About thirty minutes into making breakfast, the bathroom door opened as he called my name.

“Yeah?”, I answered as I came around the corner

As soon as I saw him, I stopped in my tracks. He stood at the entrance of the bathroom door, his towel hanging dangerously low off his hips.

“Uhh...I didn’t think you were going to come down the hall. I don’t have any other clothes to put on”

“(Y/N)?”, he called again

He waved his hand in my face, “My face is up here”

As he smirked, my entire face started to burn and I ran to my room. I threw him the only thing I had that could probably fit him, then went back to the kitchen.

“Really?”, he called as I disappeared around the corner

A few minutes later, he entered the kitchen in the unicorn onesie my mother bought me that was a few sizes too large. I never went back to exchange it for a smaller size, but it certainly serves its purpose now.

“Why do you have this?”, he grinned

“My mother got that for me not too long ago. I haven’t had the chance to take it back”, I answered as I flipped another pancake, “You can keep it. It looks nice on you”

Daveed blushed as he walked out the kitchen to fold the blankets. He turned the TV on and most of the news stations were telling us that the snow wouldn’t stop coming down until tomorrow morning. Everything was closed until the snow stopped which wouldn’t be for another day or two.

We finished eating and cleaning in silence. The tension hung heavy in the air, but neither of us were prepared to bring it up. Most of the morning was spent watching cartoons and reminiscing about our childhoods and past relationships when he turned the TV off and turned to face me.

“The women you saw a few days ago”, he paused, waiting to see if I was ready to begin

When I nodded, he continued, “I know it looked pretty bad, it was bad, but she’s a friend that Rafa and I hang with when we’re in New York. She helps with the workshop, we make music together, and we’re very close”, he paused again to gauge my reaction, “When I stormed out of our session, I was convinced myself that I needed to distract myself from you by finding someone else. So I told her to come over. The second she tried to kiss me, I told her to stop. We spent majority of the day talking about how I felt about you and that  I wanted things to work out between us when our marriage is annulled. She kept telling me to go to you, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it”

“Why?”, I asked quietly

“I hurt you.”

I sat quietly as I waited for him to continue. The idea of him with another woman drove me insane, yet I knew I had no right to be upset when he wasn’t mine to begin with. The only person who’s lied so far between the two of us was me. I believed him.

“I didn’t think that after ignoring you again, you would want to speak to me. You have every right to be mad at me”

I sighed before finally looking him in his eyes, “Daveed, you have every right to be mad at me. Ever since you got here, I’ve done everything I could to get you to understand how I felt and I thought that the best way to get you to understand was by hurting you when I knew you had feelings for me. There were probably about a thousand different ways I could have got my point across, but I convinced myself that was my best option”

“You say you don’t have feelings for me because I know you’re only saying it to push me away. It helps you somehow and that hurts knowing that I can’t change that”, he said softly

I sighed as I ran my fingers through my hair. Somehow the conversation made the tension feel even worse. I knew what I needed to say to him, it was just a matter of being brave enough to actually say it. I distanced myself from him once again as I got off the couch, pacing back and forth.

“Why are you so calm about this? Why aren’t you upset with me?”, I huffed

“Why did you come to my hotel?”

“Dav--”

“Why did you come to my hotel?”, he challenged, “A few days ago, when I kissed you, you kissed me back. You keep letting me in, then pushing me out again”, he moved himself from the couch and made his way to me, “You’re confused about all of this and I am too. We can figure this out together, if you decide to be honest with me”

He took another step closer, intertwining his fingers in mine. My heart was no longer beating at a steady pace. Our noses brushed against each other, the tension no longer suffocating us.

“(Y/N), we can do this. Just tell me, why were you--?”

“I needed to tell you that…”

“Tell me what?”, he asked softly

Suddenly, I was reminded of the same feeling I tried to push away every time we spent time together and when he kissed me. It was the same feeling that I felt a this moment. Everything was telling me to take that leap and kiss him.

I brushed my nose against his and wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me closer by wrapping his arm around my waist. His eyes fluttered shut with my lips barely touching his. My lips melted on to his. I tangled my fingers in his hair and he pulled me as close as he possibly could. I back him into the couch, until I was straddling his thighs. My tongue slid into his mouth and he groaned against me. I pulled away when my lungs would no longer take it.

“I wanted to tell you that I didn’t regret kissing you. When you kissed me, it felt like things were falling into place and that scared me. We had a plan and when it went in a different direction, I panicked...I like you”

“I like you too”, he grins

I find myself returning his grin, “I want you in my life Daveed, even after we’re no longer married. Let’s see where this goes and work it out together”

“I like the sound of that”, he beamed as I rest my head on his shoulder

We sat with our fingers still intertwined, watching and laughing at cheesy Hallmark films. By the end of the night, he nodded off and I didn’t bother leaving the couch. As soon as my head touched his chest, he wraps his arms around me refusing to let go.

Day 21

The next day and another onesie later, I walked into the living room, my arms full of games.

“I have Life, Monopoly, Uno, playing cards, checkers, and Twister”

“I’m ready to kick your butt in Uno”, he bubbled

“Bring it on Diggs”

Twenty minutes and three games later. I had two cards left compared to his twelve. He groaned as I placed another card on the pile.

“Uno”, I grinned

“Can we play another game?”

“You said best two out of three and after this game, I’ll be the winner”, I cheered as he put down another card

“Uno out”

He threw his cards on the table, shaking his head at me. I danced around the table and his scowl turned into a smirk.

“Don’t be a sore loser”, I scolded, sitting close enough to lean my head on his shoulder

“If me losing means getting to see you dance like that, then it was worth it”

Daveed kissed my forehead and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

“What’s next? Since you lost, you can choose the next game”

His eyes lit up as he eyed the games thrown across the floor. He walked over to the pile and immediately picked up a box.

“I haven’t played this game in a while”

The two of us were on the twister mat with Daveed’s hands and feet touching the corners of the mat. If he pushed himself up any further it would be a perfect bridge. I was leaning over him. I spun the dial again.

“Left foot red”, I groaned  

For a moment, I didn’t move. Daveed laughed at my predicament. My left foot was currently placed on green.

“There’s no way you’re gonna win this time”, he grinned

“What makes you think I’m going to lose?”

“You have to move your leg and put it on the other side of the mat. How can you do that without falling?”

He had a point, but I would never admit it to him. I looked down at his wide grin. He was ready for a win and I refused to give him the satisfaction. The second I brushed my nose against his, the grin disappeared.

“W-what are you doing?”, he sputtered

“Nothing”, I cooed as I kissed the corner of his mouth

His body shook beneath me as I kissed him again and pressed my body against his. He wrapped one arm around me, then fell to the ground with his lips still on mine. I indulged for a couple of seconds before pulling away quickly and began to laugh at his confused grin.

“See what happens when you underestimate me?”, I said as I got off the floor, “Looks like you lose again Diggs”

He glared at me as he got off the floor, “You’re not getting away with that”

I slowly backed away and he took a step closer until I turned on my heels and ran as fast as I could to my room. My attempt to crawl over my bed to reach the other side was thwarted when he grabbed my ankle and pulled me back. I shrieked as he pulled me closer.

As soon as I turned on my back, his fingers are digging themselves into my sides and a laugh escaped my lips.

“Stop”, I gasped, trying to catch my breath

“Not until you say you’re sorry”

He flipped me on my back as he continued tickling me, “No”

“Oh really?”

He reached up and tickled me under my arm. I screamed even louder.

“All you have to do is apologize”, he whispered in my ear

“Okay, I’m sorry”, I gasped as I squeezed my legs together

Daveed, nearly on top of me, held himself up by his forearms. His eyes were on my lips and a shy smile spread across his face. I placed my fingers on his shoulders and smiled back as I pulled him in for a kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist as he fell on top of me.

He began to kiss down my jawline to my neck. When he found my spot, I pushed my hips up to meet his. He groaned against my neck as his hips met mine.

“Daveed”, I moaned

Immediately he stopped, pulling away from my lips and lifting himself up again.

“What’s wrong?”, I asked

He was quiet for a moment, contemplating what he needed to say next.

“Should we be doing this? I want to, but won’t this make things more complicated?”

I sighed as I unwrapped my legs from his hips, “You’re right. I want to to too, but now isn’t the time”

“We’ll get there at some point”, he grinned as he kissed me again, “I’ll see you in the morning”

He was already off of me and headed for the door. Seeing him walk out the door reminded of all the times he left whenever we were fighting, which was quite often. I wanted him near me.

“You can stay in here...if you want”, I blurt out

Daveed stopped in his tracks and eyed me skeptically, “You sure about that?”

“Yeah. We can set boundaries if you want”

“Boundaries”, he laughed, “For sleeping?”

“Don’t want to make you uncomfortable”, I mumbled

He grinned as he jumped on my bed, occupying the other side. He was on his side facing me.

“How about we stay on our sides of the bed? No touching”

“I can work with that”

He smiled and leaned forward to kiss me again, “Goodnight (Y/N)”

“I thought you said no touching”

I laughed as he glared at me, “Goodnight Daveed”

Day 22

As I started to wake up, I noticed that the snow finally stopped falling. In a day or two, I would be back at work, meaning that Daveed would be going back to his hotel soon. Maybe he would be up for another sleepover during his stay.

I heard a soft snore next to my ear and froze. As I remembered agreeing to share my bed with Daveed, I realized his arm was around my waist, tethering me to him and the bed. I slowly tried to get up, but he pulled me back. He moved closer and buried his nose into my neck. As he got comfortable, something hard was resting against my butt. I blushed the moment I realized what it was. Squirming to get out of his hold proved to be futile as I tried to get out of his grip, he pushed his hips against me. In my attempt to move away, I pushed my hips against his. He groaned and began to stir.

“Daveed”, I breathed

He pushed his hips against mine again and froze before jumping off the bed, apologizing profusely and trying to cover himself up.

“It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to”, I said as calm as possible, trying to hide my blush

“But we said no touching and I feel like--”

“Like it’s something you’ve wanted to do for a while now and acted on it without thinking about it?”, he looked horrified and I couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re not the only one whose thought about it. Like I said it’s fine”

“You’ve thought if it before?”, he questioned

“We woke up naked with no memory of what happened the night before. Of course at some point I’ve wondered what the sex was like”, I said with another blush, “I’m sure you have too”

He finally sat on the bed again, not as close as before, “Yeah, I have actually. Before we spent the day with you, Ava, and Gina that morning, I had a dream about us”

“The day after we kissed, I had a dream about us too”

“Can I ask what happened?”

We both made eye contact and smiled as he laid on his side facing me. I decided to follow suit.

“You guys had just finished filming your movie. Everyone else was partying, but we were in our own little bubble, like in Las Vegas”, I said nervously, “There was a lot of kissing and giggling and smiling”

My blush took over as I avoided all eye contact. He was eyeing me with much curiosity and a soft smile on his face.

“You pulled me into a room and sat me down on the couch. Your lips met mine again until you started kissing my neck, down my chest. Then you were between my legs. I was so close until I woke up and realized Gina and Ava were in the room with me”

Daveed’s hand was under my chin, gently shifting my view to his face, “Don’t be embarrassed when we’re both in the same boat. I dreamt about us having sex that night in Vegas. You were on top and bossing me around. I liked it a little too much”

We were slowly moving closer to each other. His arm wrapped around my waist as our noses touched. He smirked as I bit my lip.

“I’m probably the least bossy person you know”, I quipped

“I know. That’s what made it so sexy”

I pulled him in for another kiss, knowing exactly what I wanted. He groaned as pulled his hair and ground my pelvis against his. Before he could get into it, he pulled away.

“We said no to sex, right?”, he panted

“We did”

“We can stop”

“What if we continue without actually having sex?”, I pondered

He raised his eyebrow, not having a clue what I was referring to until I told him to lay on his back and straddled him. I kissed him again as soon as I felt his length rising against my thigh. I shifted my hips until it was it rested against my core. I slowly moved my hips against him, feeling him rub against me through the fabric of my pajama shorts.

“Shit”, he groaned as squeezed my hips even tighter

I moaned as he rubbed against my clit. My hands were on his chest to keep myself from falling over. Eventually, he pulled me into a rough kiss, leaving me speechless while he picked up the pace. I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled, giving me access to his neck. He began to shake while I kissed down his jawline to his neck. Once I found his sweet spot, I sucked on his neck.

“(Y/N)”, he whimpered as I sucked harder, “Fuck”

I pulled him into another kiss before smiling down at him, “Is this close to your dream?”

Daveed smirked at me, then squeezed his eyes shut as I barely held on. I was so close, but a part of me wanted more.

“Daveed”, I moaned, “I’m so close. I’m…”

Words failed to come out as I flew closer to the edge. I placed my hands on his chest again to pick up the pace and he pushed his hips to match my speed. I nearly screamed as my orgasm washed over me and Daveed followed suit. He was trying to speak as he came down from his high, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

I fell onto his chest, trying to catch my breath. His heart was beating out of control, just like mine. When I looked up at him, he was staring at me in adoration which prompted me to quickly looked away.

“You’re feeling shy after what we just did?”

“A little”

He shifted himself to lay on his side with me leaning into his chest. Daveed kissed my cheek, then my lips.

“I’m glad it snowed this week. I like spending time with you (Y/N)”

“Me too Daveed. You’re welcome to come over again for another sleepover...if you want”

“This is a big change from you not wanting me in your house”, he laughed, “I would love to, but I think we need to take a shower. You can go first”

I hopped off the bed to head to the bathroom. When I turned around, Daveed was still laying down with his eyes on the ceiling and a smile spread across his face. In that moment, he looked content. After finally reconciling with him, I knew I felt the same way.

[franeridart]

Happy 1000th post to one off my absolute favorite artists on Tumblr!

This is it!!! The 1k post on this blog!!! It’s me finally getting my ass into gear and answering the asks in my inbox!!! As good charm in hope of not waiting so long from now on hahaha thank you so so much, by the way!!!! :D

Anon said:LITERALLY YOUR TODOROKI IS THE BEST THING IN THIS CRUEL WORLD I LIVE THE WAY U DRAW HIM IM EMOTIONAL HHECK ALSO ALL THE REST OF UR ART IS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD ITS SO NICE UR CHARACTERS ARE LIKE VERY LONG NOODLES THEYRE GOOD™

THANK YOU FOR EVERY KIND WORD AND ESPECIALLY ABOUT THE TODOROKI ONES HOLY SMOKES!!! I don’t draw him much sadly but he’s super fun and comfortable to draw for me, it’s nice to know he also comes out well!!!

Anon said:So like,,, I really miss your bokuroo ;^; Will you ever post with them again???

I haven’t taken a vow that forces me to never draw them again, so, possibly! At the moment posting for the haikyuu fandom is giving me more sad feelings than anything else though, so I can’t promise that’s gonna be any time soon, I’m sorry 

Anon said:bruhh i listened to that chiodos song under ur halo, and that one by memphis may fire that was w that bakugo art that was called not enough and uhhhhh ur music taste is dope care to share some more songs?

SURE I’m glad you liked those! Everything by Memphis is A+ and I love it so if you haven’t you should check out more stuff by them ( No Ordinary Love is super nice, That’s Just Life is very dear to me and so is Divinity, Speechless is… my otp song for every otp ever tbh) -  Bring Me The Horizon is my fav post-hardcore band and both MMF and Chiodos are that genre so if you don’t know them give them a try! (Blasphemy, Run and Doomed are between my faves out of the latest album, and since you liked Under Your Halo you’re probably gonna like Follow You too) the album right before is amazing too if you’re okay with less melodic stuff, but the further back you go with BMtH the harder to listen to they get, just a heads up - Sleeping With Sirens are on the softer side of post-hardcore lately, Fly, Left Alone, Trouble, Fire and Empire To Ashes are some great ones, between the many, and, uhhhh, at this point I might have recced Nothing More a hundred times but let’s make it a hundred and one, try Funny Little Creatures, Do You Really Want It and Go To War out of the newest album! If you’re into punk and female voices you should check out Tonight Alive too, Jenna has one of my two fav female voices in rock right now (Crack My Heart and Temple are the latest two songs out!) and since I always rec stuff but I never rec anything by my favorite band ever, you ever heard of Alter Bridge? They’re more towards hard-rock/alternative metal, but check out Blackbird, Fortress, I Know It Hurts, Cradle To The Grave and Broken Wings just to make it one for every album I really, really adore this band and everything they ever made

Anon said:I adore all of your art, especially your bnha art!!! I had so many of your drawings saved to my drafts before I read the manga and was really looking forward to catching up so I could look at them all!! They’re all fantastic

AHHH THANK YOU!!! This made me smile lots, I’m so glad you like them!!!

Anon said:What’s coming up? Fluffy, dorky or angsty? (I’m talking about your next work XD just to be sure) Have a great day my friend!

LMAO this was about this one right? I’m sort of a fool honestly cause as I drew it it… didn’t feel actually all that angsty to me? I mean, obviously it doesn’t come after anything happy, but they’re working things out! Making an effort! Loving each other enough to try and understand each other better!! I drew it as something positive but in hindsight I should have expected the reactions lmao so I honestly dunno, I feel like telling you it’s most probably gonna be something happy but as it seems I angst without even realizing, lately #rip

@not-enough-kaneki​ said:Pass the happy! 💛 When you get this, reply with 5 things that make you happy and send this to the last 10 people in your notifications! 😊

!!!!! my cats!!!! tea and coffee!!! Bakugou and Kirishima and Bakugou-and-Kirishima and the squad!!!! not having an headache!!!!!! the sound of ocean waves and the sun on winter days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! new music I like!!!!!! nice asks and lovely tags under my art!!!! that’s more than five things but a lot of stuff makes me happy tbh !!!

Anon said:one of my favorite parts (i love every bit of it) of the holiday pic you drew of the squad, is they each have their own personal mug. 10/10

I didn’t think you’d be able to notice Mina’s!!! I’m glad it was visible, I thought I had made it disappear into the background hahaha thank you!!!

Anon said:i just went through your entire kiribaku tag and, honestly, gay (also ur art is soooo good and pure and thank u so much for all the content u make for bnha 💖💖)

It is very gay, isn’t it? The other day I was going through my old stuff and I think I might have slowly turned them mushier oh my hahaha I’m glad you like my stuff, by the way!! Thank you so so so so much!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Thank you for sharing the beautiful Bakusquad Christmas! It’s very colorful and warm & it gives me such a comforting feeling! I love looking at all the details! Kami & Sero’s ribbons, everyone’s mugs, the decorations, all so cute! Especially Mina’s bulletin board with the photos, charms of the boys, & the little alien dude (?) Each time I look at it, I see other cute details!! Sorry to bother you, but thanks again for sharing your art with us! I hope you had a very Merry Christmas!!!!!

It’s not a bother at all!!! Thank you so so much for looking at it long enough to notice all those details!!!!

Anon said:You are so good at giving advice omg

I wouldn’t say I’m especially good at it, I just say what was useful to me lol but thank you! It’s a nice thing to be told

Anon said:Dude, your bakusquad drawings are awesome! Keep up the great work!

Thank you!!!!!!!!!!! I’m super glad you like them!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:The new chapter made me think about Bakugou dealing with his squad as babies all over again. Toddlers would probably be worse.

Depends?? Actually??? Like, at least toddlers aren’t gonna steal his gauntlets and tell him he’s lame and punch him just for the hell of it and be a bunch of smartasses and assholes like. Compared to this bunch of baby-Bakugous he has to deal with in the new arc maybe the squad as toddlers would actually be refreshing lol

Anon said:Um I have a very real crush on ila? Can we please know more about her??

I’m ??? so happy you like her!!!!! I don’t wanna say too much about her cause until I draw her in comics I won’t be too sure about who she really is, but she’s!! a pianist, very tall and sorta insecure about her physical appearance, very soft spoken, incredibly gay, scared of sensory deprivation of any kind. Her full name is Ilaria! Dav calls her Aria, which means air in Italian~ they’re pretty good friends, I have a comic about that I’ve been meaning to draw…

Anon said:So, you like KiriBaku with songs, so what do you think of You Had Me At Hello by A Day to Remember? Particularly the lines, “What have I gotten into this time around, I know that I had sworn I’d never trust anyone again, but I didn’t have to. You had me at hello. I’ve never seen a smile that can light a room like yours, it’s simply radiant, I feel more with every day that goes by.”

s o f t…………. ;; also incredibly fitting considering Bakugou decided Kirishima was his new favorite hero the second time he spoke to him, like, god bless I love those two s o m u ch this one I’m listening to it right now and having feelings (is it Baku to Kiri? Kiri to Baku? why not both for double the feels)

Anon said:Hey Fran!! Have you been keeping up with haikyuu? If so what do you think about the Miya twins? (Personally I think they’re pretty okay, they’re funny when they interact with each other. My favorite of the two is Osamu haha)

I don’t mind them! My fav out of Inari is Kita tho, have to admit - that said I have… sort of been ready for this game to be over for months, now………………

Anon said:Okay but imagine….. Kirishima with freckles

I’ve drawn that, now and again!!! the latest one was this one, and another one I remember is this one :D I’ve been liking the idea of him with freckles even more since it’s become official his hair isn’t naturally red? So now and again I add them in, even though they’re usually not much noticeable haha I do so with Bakugou too from time to time, actually… and the rest of the squad… I just… love freckles a lot… haha

Anon said:Love the squad, love the squad kisses.

HECK YES the goal is to draw at least one smooch for every couple sooner or later !!!

Anon said:I hadn’t even realize that I stuck around for a whole year OwO, anyways, congratulations! Your art style has improved much more than you think, especially since you’ve gotten more into coloring ^o^ I noticed that you’ve also been doing more complicated poses too, so, it’s the little stuff that counts ♥️👍 Hope to see more spontaneous art next year, love you Fran!

THANK YOU SO MUCH I love you lots too??? honestly??? This ask means the whole world to me, I really can’t see much improvement after all but knowing you can DOES help a whole damn lot

Anon said:So I came across this fanfic where Uraraka and Todoroki were a thing. I’m personally not a fan of this rare pair, but the whole scenario was the cutest thing ever. Todoroki basically asks Uraraka to help him confess to Midoriya, but in the process falls in love with her instead.

Awwww that sounds cute! Can’t say I have any particular feelings about the ship, but I am up for Todoroki with nearly anyone so why not!

Anon said:Bro bro bro I’m sorry if this is the wrong channel to go through or something but holy shit I just spent hours going through your entire tumblr and your. Art. And. Concepts. I… can’t??? DUDE YOU’RE AMAZING AND YOUR TATTOO AU!! I?? Just thank you so much for all the awesome work you do honestly made my entire fuckin week with your blog, you are WICKED GOOD AND FUNNY AF. That’s all I got go on with your day you talented ass fiend

I’M CRYING!!! OH MY GOD THANK YOU!!!!!!! I’m gonna pick this ask and frame it right on top of my desk!! The heck!!!!!!

Anon said:Why is Bakugou such a fuckin meme

The real question is why is everyone in class 1A a meme. How do they even keep up. How much of the shit they say on a day to day basis is actually just catchphrases from other 1A kids repeated over and over again. How much of the deadpan ridiculous shit Todoroki says has become an inside-joke. How many 1A kids move and talk like Iida just for the hell of it. How often do they yell DIE at inanimate stuff when it pisses them off. How much stuff is defined as manly even though it has nothing to do with manliness. Do they say “going wheey” instead of “frying one’s brain”. Can anyone outside of 1A even understand them when they speak at this point.

Anon said:You are amazing human bean and I love you 💖 Keep being great ✨👏

Thank you??? ;O; I’ll do my best!!!

Anon said:Just annonly passing by to tell you I F'ing love your take on Ashido And the Kids XD … Way to much fluff And laugh for my heart

THANK YOU!!! I’m happy I can make you laugh!!!! :D :D :D

Anon said:I love you god bless you and your art! THANK YOU!

NAH THANK YOU FOR BEING THIS NICE!!!

Anon said:Hi! I absolutely /adore/ your BakuKiriKami art! I was wondering if you had any headcanons about them/what inspires you to draw them?

More than headcanons for them I have an incredible amount of scenarios I’d like to see them in! And when they’re compact, complete things I usually draw them, which is what inspires me really haha that, and seeing them interact in the manga! Lately I’ve been really drawn to Bakugou and Kaminari’s friendship, actually, so the romantic stuff has fallen in the background while my mind is preoccupied with thinking about them as platonic good pals ahhhhhhh as soon as I’ll work through it I’ll probably get back to drawing them as romantics, that’s just how my mind works lol

Anon said:I love the casual clothes you design for MHA characters! And I really enjoy reading your headcanons-always creative and fun! Is there anything you’d add to anyone’s hero costumes in class 1-A (something that might prove useful/practical for them, or something you’d add just for the heck of it)? Sorry if this is a stupid question or if you’ve answered a similar question before. Thanks for your time!

It’s not a stupid question, don’t worry!! But I generally like to leave myself in Horikoshi’s hands for this sort of stuff, since I both enjoy the costumes as they are AND don’t want to be disappointed in case what I hope for doesn’t actually happen - that said, I’ve mentioned before that I’d really like Aoyama to get redirectors for his laser on his palms and for Kaminari to get a close combat weapon, since with the quirk he has anything metal would actually work wonders for him! He mentioned a sword, but I rest my case that tonfas would be cool, I really want him to use tonfas. A “costume” I don’t understand is Hagakure’s, by the way - would be nice if she got an actual costume and also I don’t really get why she’d wear gloves at all?? Mirio’s costume was made using his hair, I really want her to get something similar! That’s about it tho, I haven’t really thought much about anyone else in that sense~ 

Anon said:Hello! A few weeks ago I asked about the bracelets you drew for Baku & Kiri. (That art is so beautiful!!) I was wondering if there’s a story behind them; such as, did one of them buy the pair, or did they pick them out together? I’m sorry if it’s a dumb question and if I’m bothering you.

THIS ASK I had lost it, thank you so much for sending it my way again! Actually, Kirishima bought it for himself and Bakugou - I mean to draw a small thing for it, be patient with me while I try to get my ass into gear for it ;O;

Anon said:It’s been a while since you’ve done any BakuKiriKami, do you still like that ship?

I do - as I said a few answers above this one, I’m just finding myself weirdly invested in a platonic relationship between Bakugou and Kaminari at the moment, and also Bakushima stole my focus and soul, but I do still like the ship a whole damn lot, definitely still my fav ot3 in the manga~

Anon said:I love your drawings so much, they always make my day seeing them. But I gotta say that kiri with his hair down is my weakness. He just looks so pure, the cuteness factor goes through the roof.

Thank you???? The Kiri thing is true for canon Kiri too, I’m glad I can bring it in my art!!! Mostly cause when I draw him with his hair down I’m never really sure what the hell I’m doing, I’ll be honest with you lmao

Anon said:hello, holy fUCKin shit how are you this damn good at drawing? like, fuck? thank you, bless you, have a nice day

THANK YOU! And all I do is draw, really lmao I wouldn’t say I’m all that good, definitely not anywhere near the artists I admire, but since all I can do is draw as long as I keep doing that I guess I’ll get there, sooner or later hahaha

[tsw-story]

Chapter 68 - Superstition Ain’t the Way

“I had a feeling this would happen, but I've been too stubborn,” Old Yaga muttered and sighed. She lifted up a glass vial filled with a lime green fluid, and as she stirred it in her grip, it bubbled and steamed. There was certainly something special about her concoction.

“We have to convince them somehow,” Kevin said. “If you really want to help them, you don't deserve to get burned like some kind of monster! Maybe they'll listen to us.”

A pounding echoed out from the door. From outside came a voice they believed to be the woman from earlier—the same snappy attitude. Behind her words were murmurs from others. They couldn't understand what they said, both from distance and a barrier of language, but they assumed the worst.

“Come out, Witch. We have lived with your black magic for long enough!” the woman shouted.

It was Kevin that answered the door. He pushed it open, and made his way out, while Deena followed behind him. He saw faces not of anger from the villagers, but of fear, and concern. The woman leading them stepped back but continued a judgemental glare towards the ginger samurai.

“What proof do you have that this woman is hexing you? Hasn't she told you? She's trying to find a cure for the sickness that plagues this place,” Kevin stated.

“And what proof do you have that she is not lying?” the woman replied back. “The very soil beneath her hut is salted by her dark powers. The animals dare not tread here. Hunting has grown more difficult.”

“That is the sickness, dear,” spoke the witch as she stepped out from her door.

“There she is!” shouted someone in the crowd, and they began to speak with one another in a wave of mumbles.

“A mysterious illness came upon this place,” she continued. “I came to fix it. That is your correlation. You have your cause and effect confused.”

“She lies,” the woman said. “Her words are poison.”

Kevin grew tired of their argument. His breathing quickened, and suddenly, he took a deep inhale through his nostrils to muster up a moment of bravery. He reached out, and he quickly snatched the vial that contained the antidote. With a twist and pull of the cork, he released a plume of mist into the air. It smelled like asparagus.

The crowd gasped. “Don't breath it in!” someone shouted.

“This is the cure she's been working on. It's harmless,” Kevin said, unsure of his own words.

“This is suicide,” the woman said as she approached him. “Do not drink that toxin.”

He stared intently at the vial. His legs trembled with fear. Kevin looked to Deena and old woman behind her, and then back to the crowd with a glare of determination. With one swig, he downed the green substance, and unleashed a deep sigh afterwards.

“Seems fine to me,” he finally said.

“This proves nothing!”

Old Yaga stepped forwards. “There is a dark corruption here. You are not wrong, dear. And I know much of darkness. This is why I am the expert you require to cleanse this place. Without my cure, animals won't come here ever again. Plants will die. Soon, all of you.”

The man they met when they first arrived lowered his torch to the dirt. He walked towards them, looked to his angry companion, but ultimately surrendered. “I have to believe.”

“What?” the woman replied.

“My mother. She is sick. If the Witch can help, then I must listen. Do you have more?”

Old Yaga smiled. “I do, dear. Much more. Your village will be saved, if you only listen.” She turned to Kevin. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Kevin replied. “I knew you were a nice lady. You knew too, right, Deena?”

Deena shook her head. “I thought you were dead for sure.”

“Don't say that!”

Old Yaga's potion worked like a charm. Each villager that drank it was feeling better in less than a day, and more was poured around the area itself. Plants became healthier, animals returned, and nobody was coughing out their lungs. The sun finally rose on the village again, all thanks to an old witch, and two meddling Canadians.

***

Legends say that deep in Germany, if a child wanders too far from home and finds themselves lost in a forest, the bugbear—the boogeyman—will feast on their body. It's a terrifying fate, to be eaten alive, which is why a child would never disobey their parents. For what is worse than meeting the bugbear? But at times, there are worse things than a beast, and they're usually monsters that are even worse.

A boy was hustling along across the rolling hills. His lungs burned, as did his legs. He rested both arms against a nearby tree and panted heavily, yet he could still hear the terrifying roar of the creature that stalked him. It wasn't time to give up, yet his body wouldn't listen.

“You come back here now!” screamed a man, speaking the language of the country.

He wanted to reply to the voice, in some way, but he too busy catching his breath.

“What did I say about coming here, boy?” the man said as he approached. “If you wander too far, the bugbear will eat you. Do you want that? Well, do you?”

He knew how he wanted to answer, but opted not to reply.

“Your father's dead. So as long as you're stuck with me, you're going to do everything I say. I thought that was clear. Maybe I need to give you something that'll remind you. Every time you look at your arms, you'll see. Every time you look at your legs, you'll see. I'll make sure you see.”

The boy backed up against the tree. His eyes turned towards the forest, but it was so dark he could hardly see farther than a few meters. The sun was setting, and he knew being out this late was dangerous. He did still believe in the bugbear.

“I don't... want to go with you,” he whispered.

“What?” the man snapped back. “You don't seem to understand at all. I guess it's time to make you see.”

He leapt forward like a panther, and grabbed the boy by his throat and arm. He heaved him up against the tree with ease, and thrust him against it, digging the bark into his back. The boy thought his breath smelled like the pub he always passed by on the way to school. It was a disgusting smell, he thought.

“I swear. You tempt me to leave you to the wolves,” the man said through gritted teeth.

All of the sudden, a reverberating grumble rolled out from the darkness between the trees. It sent a chill down the boy's spine, and the man stopped. He looked left and right, but ultimately shook his head and continued.

“Just some animals,” he muttered.

But the sound came again, and this time, it was louder. It resembled a bear's roar, but it was far too loud and deep to be coming from even the largest bear, and the noise was coming closer. It came again, and again.

“Shit. Let's get out of here, boy,” he said as he dragged the child behind him.

“Let go of me!”

“Stop struggl—“

The man stopped in his tracks, and his face turned pale. The grip of the child loosened, dropping him to the ground, and with wobbly legs, the man took a few steps backwards as he gazed in awe.

A creature came out from the forest, and it was no ordinary animal. It was a bear, but even on four legs, it stood at over fifteen feet tall. Its fur was dark and mangled, and a pair of black horns protruded from its head. Though passed all of this, it was its glowing red eyes that caused the pair to nearly faint.

It sprinted towards them so quickly that they didn't have the chance to run. However, it stepped right over the boy, and grabbed the man's upper-half within is mouth. After a safe distance from the child, the bugbear flung the man tumbling to the ground and roared.

The child watched from afar, unsure of how to react.

In contrast, the man certainly did. He bolted the opposite direction at such an impressive speed, that he was already disappearing from the child's view. But that only was going to leave him alone with the mythical beast.

“Don't worry. He won't hurt you,” came an unknown voice from behind. It spoke in English, but thankfully, the child knew just enough to understand. He moved his lips to speak, but only air escaped. But he began to calm, because through all of this, a smile was on the stranger's face.

“Who...?” the boy muttered.

“I'm Eldrian,” he said as he held up his phone. “And the police have some questions for your uncle. I don't think you'll be seeing him again.”

Soft steps through the grass preceded a handsome man's entrance. Daveon, with his hands in his  pockets, came to stand beside his friend, and he gave a comforting nod to the child.

“You were right, Dav. A day off in Germany was a good idea,” Eldrian said.

“You call this a day off?” Daveon replied with a chuckle.

Eldrian patted the child on his head. “You should run home now. Everything should be fine.”

“Bugbear. Real?” the boy asked.

“Of course he is. We just watched him run away in fear.”

The boy was confused. He was scared. But there was something else in his heart—something he had not felt in a long time. His body was tired, but a light burning inside him pushed him to stand strong. With tears in his eyes, he gave Eldrian a hug, and sprinted off.

A moment passed. It was soon just the two of them, standing in the middle of nowhere in Germany, quite a distance from the nearby town.

“You shouldn't meddle in people's lives,” Daveon said.

Eldrian looked to him. “You aren't happy with what we did?”

“I didn't say that.” He shook his head and paused. “I said you shouldn't. But we shouldn't do a lot of things that we do anyway. Right?”

He grabbed Daveon's shoulder and laughed. “That's right. Now you know what Deena is always mad at me.”

“I wonder what the others are up to.”

“Knowing them, bizarre things.

“I guess we should head back.”

“What time is it here?”

“About nine o'clock.”

“Think any food places are open?”

“It's possible.”

“Let's not head back yet, Dav. Let's get dinner. My treat.”

[sassysnowperson]

Hi, I just wanted to say that I read your fanfic 'I Couldn't Say' and I loved it! I do have a question tho, do you Draven actually mourned Merrick and of so, how? But seriously, I love your fanfic and Merrick/Draven, and your headcanons for them

Oh, Anon. Thank you so much for letting me know. And, you know what? I do have some thoughts on the matter. Read on AO3.

Davits Draven didn’t mourn at the wake. He tried. For Merrick’s sake, he tried.

He tried to ignore the glares and mutters as he walked in. The animated story about some regulation Merrick had utterly failed at enforcing petered out as Draven put the bottle of alcohol he had brought down with the rest.

“Why are you even here?” Blue Eight asked, spite and grief filling his voice to equal measure. “You hated the guy.”

Draven kept his face impassive. “Antoc Merrick was a skilled pilot and a fine officer. The Rebellion is poorer for his loss. He deserves to be remembered.”

The lines around Bleu Eight’s jaw set with disgust. “Could have said that while he was alive.”

Draven slipped out shortly after. From the hallway he heard the sounds of laughter, of the wake picking back up again.

(Rest under the readmore) 

Draven placed the four reports next to each other, eyes flicking from one to another in some futile hope that they would reveal Princess Organa’s location, where the bloody Death Star plans had gotten to. It was his officer that had gone rogue, his job to pull solutions from the wreckage.

His job to make sure Andor’s sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.

Andor’s sacrifice and...others.

His door slid open, and Draven looked up, irritation at being disturbed radiating out of him. That faded when he saw the gaunt lines of exhaustion on Colonel Bandwin Cor’s face. Cor was one of the few people who may have had a worse time of things in the past few days. As the head of Starfighter Logistics and Merrick’s right hand man (‘Former,’ Draven thought before his mind skittered away), Cor had been left with a fine mess to wrangle.

“Colonal.”

“General.” Cor’s nod was brief. “I have some business with you.”

“Don’t worry.” Draven shoved some of his thinning blond hair off of his forehead. “I’ll not be bothering your pilots further.”

Cor gave a soft grunt. “I knew Merrick. Knew his habits.” Cor approached Draven’s desk. “You two were circumspect, but not that secretive.”

Draven’s stomach churned, bile rose in his throat. He fought it down, arched an eyebrow as he considered Cor.

Cor laid a small datastick on the desk. “From the General,” Cor said. Then, he produced a medium-sized bottle of Corellian Brandy. “From me. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Grief slammed against the cage of his ribs, and Draven refused to let it out. He picked up the datastick. “What—” he stopped himself, froze when he heard the sharp crack to his voice. He waited for the emotion to blunt before trying again, “What is this?”

Cor said, gently, “I don’t know. I just had instructions to deliver it...in the event. To you.”

Draven’s thumb traced the outside of the stick. “Thank you,” he said, the edge of sandpaper back in his voice.

“Of course.” Cor turned to leave. He paused, his back to Merrick. After a moment he said, “He was a better man. Because of you.”

“I doubt that.” Draven stared down at the datastick.

“I don’t.” Cor took another step toward the door, stopped, then said, “And neither did he.”

With that, Cor left, leaving Draven alone with the bottle and the datastick.

Draven might have said he wasn’t certain why his hand was shaking when he plugged the datastick into his holoprojector, but that would be a lie. A flickering blue holo sprang up, and there was Merrick, rumpled hair and a face full of laugh lines, staring back at Draven.

“Hey, Dav,” the holo said, and Draven lurched forward, jabbed it off, let the picture fade away.

He didn’t drink himself into oblivion, mourning Merrick with the bottle of Corellian Brandy. For his own sake, he didn’t.

He almost mourned Merrick as the Death Star bore down on Yavin and there was nothing left to do but watch. But he didn’t. He tucked the datastick in his pocket and wrapped his fingers around it, letting some of Merrick’s relentless optimism seep into his palm as a some backwater wonder blew up the Emperor's weapon.

Then he sat down and figured out how to get the Rebellion off of Yavin, because all the celebration in the world didn’t change the fact that the Empire knew where they were.

He didn’t mourn as they left Yavin, left Home One, left Vrogas Vas, left endless bases and pit stops trying to stay one step ahead of the Empire. He was too busy trying to coordinate the information the Rebel Alliance needed. Too busy trying to build on the momentum from the Death Star’s destruction.

There was a moment, on Hoth, when he thought he’d mourn. General Airen Cracken, his wayward superior, showed up with a flourish and a string of Outer-Rim contacts. Draven ceded power to Cracken as efficiently as he could and felt a little bit of the responsibility slide from his shoulders. Cracken patted Draven’s back, told him good job, and gave him forty-eight hours off.

Draven retreated to his room, stared at the ceiling for five minutes before the weight of Merrick’s memory pressing in was too much. He pulled the bottle out of his go-bag, where it lived in his left shoe, next to his spare uniform and toiletries; life that could be grabbed in a hurry when everything else was lost. It was perhaps frivolous, to keep something so personal in a bag of essentials, but Draven wasn’t willing to let it go. The datastick wasn’t in his go-bag. It hung on a cord around his neck, nestled next to his heart.

Draven very carefully didn’t think about the sentimental implications of that. It was the best way to keep something safe with his constantly-mobile life. Now, his first moment of quiet in years, he took the cord off of his neck, sat down next to the holoprojector, bottle in hand.

His comm chimed. Cracken’s voice echoed through it, “I’m sorry, General, but one of your operatives in Coyerti is checking in, and I need you to coordinate.”

“Of course. Be right there.” The unopened bottle went back to his bag, the cord back around his neck, and the responsibility back on his shoulders.

Draven didn’t mourn with the slide of sweat-drenched skin, with skin under his teeth and salt on his tongue. He didn’t mourn with hair tangled through his fingers, with limbs wrapped around his own.

That had never been the most important part of who Merrick was to him, anyway.

Luke Skywalker, lit by some inner passion, stalked his way into Draven’s office, telling him off for a call that had burned an agent. “We have to be better than them!” Luke said, golden face screwed up with anger, “Otherwise what’s the point!”

“The point is that you don’t send good credits after bad. Agent Lew understood that.”

“I could have gotten them out!” Luke said, full of bravado and sacrifice.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant,” Draven snapped, harsher than he had intended to.

Luke made an inarticulate noise of frustration and stormed out of the office again. Draven pressed his palm against where the datastick hung under his shirt and nearly mourned.

“Sir, I can get there in time.” There was heartbreak in his agent’s voice. “Please, Sir, I just need to take a speeder.”

“It’s too big of a risk,” Draven said, long habit making the words come easily. “Pull back.”

“Sir, they’re children.”

Draven almost snapped at him for insubordination. Draven almost tore him to shreds for daring to countermind orders.

“Securing the data is your priority. After that—I’ll authorize the speeder use.”

“Sir.” The agent sounded breathless. “Yes, Sir. I’ll...it’s been an honor.”

“May the Force be with you.” Draven managed to get out, grateful there wasn’t anyone else on the comm line.

As the line cut off, Draven ran his fingers under his collar, finding the cord around his neck.

Endor happened, the Emperor was neatly dead, and while some danced in the firelight Draven studied the hierarchy of Imperial Command. No Empire died easily.

Jakku happened, it was a mess, but for the first time Draven could believe that the Empire had been struck a fatal blow.

Chandrila happened, the Galactic Concordance was signed, and it was over.

Supposedly. In the shadows Draven lived the war was never really going to be over. Draven shook his head at the idealists shooting off fireworks, believing that signatures and handshakes would actually make a difference.

The datastick around his chest suddenly felt very heavy.

Draven pulled out his go-bag. The bottle was still there, tucked into his left shoe. He pulled it out, set it on the low table of the living room as celebration flickered outside his window. Draven found a holoprojector and a cup, set them on either side of the bottle, and sat down heavy on the couch.

Hands steady, he opened the bottle and poured himself a glass. He took a sip, aromatic and excellent, only improved with age. Draven breathed in and out, slowly through his nose, and reached for the cord around his neck. With a shaking hand, he plugged the datastick in.

Unchanged by years, the impish face of General Antoc Merrick sprang into being. “Hey Dav,” the figure said.

Draven’s hand spasmed around his cup. This time, he let the holo play.

Merrick’s flickering blue figure swallowed, seeming to gather his thoughts, "So, Cor is giving this to you in case I die and you don't. Which we both know is the likely outcome. I’m not hoping for it, mind you…” Merrick trailed off, shaking his head slightly as he came back to himself. “Don't worry. This isn't a love confession or anything like that."

Merrick looked off to the side, something crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Kriff, could you imagine. That'd be terrible. Wouldn't do that to you. No, I'll say something like that in person or not at all."

The figure of Merrick went slightly blurry until Draven blinked, wet tracks down his cheeks.

“Anyway, we have our ups and downs. I just...felt the need to have this out there. In case we ended—I ended—on one of those downs.” Merrick chewed at his lip, moustache twitching the way it always did when he was lost in thought. “I’ve never liked your methods.” Merrick said, looking straight at the holorecorder. “You’ve driven me crazy from the start.”

Draven huffed a wet laugh, taking a sip of the brandy.

“But, Dav, I’ve never doubted the world you’re trying to build. I’ve never doubted that we’re trying to build the same world. If I don’t make it, and you do, I think you should know that. I trust you with the future. I think it’s in good hands, even if I’m not helping with the building anymore.”

Draven’s eyes closed in a hard blink, and he forced them open again, not wanting to miss a moment.

“As much as I’ve hated your approach...I know it’s needed. You’ve made me a better soldier, you know. Able to make the hard calls. To see the realities of the situation.” Merrick sighed, his shoulders slumping a little. “This is going to be a hard war, and we’re going to need all our skills. Including yours.”

Merrick looked back up, something pleading on his face. “But, Dav, we can’t sink to their level. We can’t sink to their mindset. I know you’ll never admit it, but I made you a better person. Reminded you that not everyone sees the world as a ledger.”

In the privacy of his empty room, Draven felt the truth slip free, “You did.”

Merrick’s figure held his palm up, quiet entreaty. “Don’t forget that, please. Remember it.”

The palm dropped, and Merrick straightened, aura of command surrounding him. “Don’t give up the fight. Don’t let them win. Remember the future we’re fighting for.”

Merrick swallowed, going silent, and Draven felt a sob shake through his chest as Merrick reached for the holorecorder. His hand stopped, and he looked at the camera again, eyes somehow finding Draven’s across the years. The command dropped off of his voice, and all that was left was Antoc, slight smile and a knowing gaze as he said, “You once said you wouldn’t mourn me. But please, remember me.”

The figure cut off, and Draven was left staring at a holoprojector on a table. One choking sob made its way out of his chest. Then another and another. He set down the glass of brandy, worried he’d spill it in his shaking as he sobbed, all grief and fury, staring at the place where Merrick used to be.

As his weeping grew less violent, the glitter of an explosion outside his window caught his eye. He looked over, breath shaking, and he heard the strains of celebration going on outside his door.

Draven unplugged the datastick, tucked it back over his head and under his shirt. He walked out of his room, out of the building, and into the streets teeming with joy. He turned his tear-stained face toward the light, and he remembered. He celebrated. He mourned.

Thanks to @aeshna-uk for chat-blocking the plot with me this morning, and to @tobermoriansass and @chamerionwrites for inspiring the fic in the first place. 

[chroniclesofawkwardness]

Candy Kane

I’ve never been a big fan of family pictures, or holiday celebrations. When I was about seven, my brother Derek and I had our picture taken with our cousin Kyle, who couldn’t have been much more than a year old. Kyle was smiling, but also pointing at something off in the distance (probably a prop the photographer was using to make him laugh). Derek and I had on clip-on ties that were recycled from a previous Easter. I wore thick, almost square-framed glasses. if I left the house with them on today, they would almost certainly impede my ability to successfully procreate. I had little choice at the time since I needed corrective lenses, and wouldn’t start wearing contacts for at least another six years. 

By the time I’d made the switch, the photo of Kyle, Derek, and me belonged to a museum exhibit—frozen in time like the Iceman—of pictures my grandparents loved, but their grandchildren wished no longer existed. By 1999, they’d moved into a house much smaller than the one in which they’d raised their six children, and the photo had been relegated to a literal wall of shame in their basement. Along the wall were senior pictures of my mother and her siblings, and various photos of the nine grandchildren, including that of a triumvirate of boys c. 1988. I can’t think of a time anyone whose picture was on the wall expressed fondness when looking at it. Each of us probably thought about what we’d tell our younger selves if we passed them on the street, or secretly wished to remain arrested in that state of childhood development, our entire lives uncertain, unfolding, before us one day at a time.

The biggest reason I’ve never been a huge fan of holidays, family pictures, and especially family holiday pictures is because the only capture one moment in time, moments that, for better or worse, are frozen on film or stored in cloud of data and never really gone. Whenever the holidays come around, I have a tendency to cram an entire year’s worth of socializing into 48 hours, or however long I get to spend with my family and friends.

In my family, those occasions are typically when we celebrate some Puritans surviving a hard winter despite wearing ridiculous hats, and the birth of a boy who somehow managed to erase his teenage debauchery from the record. You know he had to screw up those miracles dozens of times in private before nailing them (oops) in public by his early thirties. This must be why we never hear about the zombies of Arimathea he couldn’t quite bring all the way back from the dead, or the numerous weddings he crashed around Nazareth during puberty, flexing to prostitutes about how he could turn water into wine in exchange for performing a number of sins his Dad didn’t have to know about (but would later be considered deadly because Mary Magdalene couldn’t keep her mouth shut) only to deliver vinegar.

I guarantee you Jesus promised Joseph of Arimathea eternal salvation as thanks for the years of resurrection practice, and in return for the use of his tomb one Friday night. Mary Magdalene showed up at the tomb three days after the crucifixion because she finally realized how serious Jesus had been about her fucking up his chances to keep holy the Sabbath day with a bridesmaid, before he hit it big and all the lepers wanted a piece (oops again) of him.

Anyway… If family pictures remind me of who I used to be, holidays remind me of things I used to wholeheartedly believe in.

My first picture with Santa was probably taken in 1982, before I had the surgery to straighten out my leg that left me with a cool scar. My enthusiasm for the holidays faded as I grew older and began to challenge my beliefs that one man could deliver presents to all the world’s children in a single night, and the three wise men could find Jesus just by following a star.

After passing at least numerically through teenage angst, I started to realize how incredibly fortunate I’ve been instead of complaining about what other people had that I didn’t. But what really got me comfortable in my own skin was volunteering, a series of activities in which I put myself in some very uncomfortable positions by surrounding myself with people and places I didn’t know. Still, my desire for the uncomfortable hasn’t weakened my ability to attract the absurd.

I recently had a chance to volunteer at Santa’s Workshop. I put on my elf hat (which I later found out had been on backwards all night) and got to work in the arts and crafts area, but that didn’t last long. Macaroni pictures weren’t doing it for me. I needed a different challenge.

Soon enough, I found my way to where Santa was. My backwards elf hat and I had to keep the line moving so every kid would have a chance to see Santa before closing time at 6 PM. Thee were all kinds of characters around me. Rudolph was there, and so was this character that had Pinocchio’s face, but looked how I imagined the Frisch’s Big Boy would if he’d been on a liquid diet for six months. “Who’s THAT?” I asked the event coordinator. “That’s the Elf on the Shelf,” she replied. “Oh… shit… I was way off,” I said. Whenever I caught the characters waving to children and their families as they passed by, they looked like those people from 80s and 90s workout videos who got stuck doing the low-impact versions of the exercises everybody else was doing at full speed. I wondered if they were secretly asking themselves why they agreed to do this, quietly cursing themselves for not auditioning to sell shit on QVC instead.

I’m not sure if the first child whose Santa aftermath I’ll remember for a long time was just really upset, had a cognitive deficiency, or both. Either way, he or she was not happy. My first post near the man of the hour was standing outside a fence they’d set up around Santa’s chair. My job was to wave the kids and their families forward once the previous family had enjoyed their moment in the makeshift winter wonderland. As the child left Santa’s lap screaming bloody murder and passed through the fence with his/her parent or guardian, they let out a sound I can only describe as a Home Improvement-era Tim Allen grunt mixed with visceral cry for help: UHHHAAHHHOOOOO! 

Before I knew what was happening, the child headbutted themselves against the exterior glass of the Lazarus building, like Kane and the Undertaker from another spoiled childhood fantasy of so many— professional wresting. All the person accompanying the child said was, “Now honey… Don’t hit your head.” All I could think was, “Damn.” But as a man wearing a backwards elf hat, I couldn’t say shit to them.

Not long after witnessing a pediatric concussion, I found myself in the path of low-impact Rudolph herself. I slightly embarrassed myself by giving her a fist bump and talking to the person in the suit as though they were the red-nosed reindeer in the flesh. I came back to my adulthood while low-impact Rudolph was in the middle of muffled sentence about candy canes. I noticed had a bucket in her hands, which I assumed had been filled with the striped holiday icons. There were no candy canes in her bucket, but I did notice a set of Toyota car keys. In my confusion, I almost blurted out, “Shouldn’t you be guiding a sleigh instead of a fucking Camry?” Some things are best left unsaid.  

For the first two hours we were there, the line to see Santa seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, which made the next encounter I remember even more excruciating. A lady walked up and stood right next to me, thus blocking my view of the line and preventing me from doing the one volunteer task I was explicitly asked to do. To make matters worse, she started offering a running commentary on all the children she saw in Santa’s lap, like a color commentator at a sporting event who didn’t know when to just shut up and let whatever moment they were witnessing wash over them.  

It didn’t matter whether they were boys dressed in identical suits for the obligatory in-lap picture with the big man (Oh, how cute!) or babies whose faces became contorted with red hot agony upon being separated from their mothers and embraced by a strange man (Oh, he is NOT having it!) The line seemed to grow infinitely longer during her soliloquy and I found myself thinking it was a shame the crucifixion of the guy whose birthday everyone would be celebrating in few weeks didn’t draw a crowd like this. In Survivor, Chuck Palahniuk observed that on some crucifixes, Jesus looks jacked enough to be modeling Ray-Ban sunglasses and Guess jeans without a shirt on. I can’t help thinking Chuck would concur that since not everyone will reach that level of supposed piety or physical fitness in a lifetime, it’s a bigger draw to remember God’s only son immediately after he humbled himself to share in our humanity the same way we all started—as a baby.

Anyway… as her commentary droned on, found myself wishing I could be the elf in the holiday classic A Christmas Story who tells Ralphie to get a move on before Santa kicks him down the slide, “Let’s Go!!!” But it bears repeating that in my backwards hat, my powers of persuasion were limited.

Not long after the soliloquy ended, I was approached by what I assume was a mother and daughter pair who were wondering if they’d ever get to see Santa. “I don’t know if we’re going to make it,” the older one said. “Let’s just take my picture with the elf.” “Actually, my name’s Dav…” I wanted to protest, but with my powers weakened, all I could do was acquiesce to their demands. The younger woman held a smartphone at what seemed like six different angles during our impromptu photo session. By the time they were done, I felt certain I was destined for Instagram infamy.  

Eventually, the powers that be decided that I should move inside the fence and stand on the glitter-covered red carpet in an effort the speed up the queue after sunset. Before I went to the other side of the fence, someone asked me if I knew whether or not they’d be cutting people off at 6 PM. I didn’t, but I wished they would. I was growing tired of head injuries, seething, teething infants, and watching people taking selfies or recruiting the other elves to take pictures of them standing under one of the arches leading up to Santa’s chair.

I must have been distracted. The next time someone tried to get my attention, I was accused of holding up the line. The man had on a white, short-sleeved polo shirt. The woman wasn’t wearing a coat, but had on something I never thought I’d see on Santa’s red carpet: a leopard-print dress and dull pink high heels. “I used to be a Santa’s helper in this building,” she exclaimed. She said something else, about 1978, but I was too busy trying to avoid another “Damn” moment to really pay attention. “Actually, we just want our bathroom done. He’s working on our house.” “Fine.” I muttered. She proceeded to throw herself at Santa like he was Hugh Heffner, and she was Playboy Bunny. The whole scene looked ridiculous, but so did I.

After the final patrons had paid Santa a visit, the other volunteer elves and I sat for our own picture with the man himself. It was likely the first time I’d had my picture taken with him since the year the picture of Derek, Kyle, and I was taken. I wasn’t filled with regret over my evaporated childhood and its beliefs, or terribly concerned that no one said a word about my backwards elf hat the whole night. I was glad I’d put myself in another uncomfortable position and come out clean on the other side minus the glitter that will be stuck to the bottoms of the shoes I wore that night for months. I was reminded of the importance of not trying to cram everything into one season, or in Santa’s case, one night. Let the kids have their beliefs and grow up to challenge them. I didn’t have to sit in Santa’s lap to tell him that wish come true was all I wanted for Christmas. I have a funny feeling that whoever he is, was, and has been, he knew what I wanted long before I ever asked.