#anyway; finch this is your fault

[n1et]

I'm sharing a traditional soup recipe with a friend so i figured I might as well make it into a post. Polish mutuals and non mutuals alike please weigh in.

I'll be describing how to make Rosół sometimes localized as golden soup. It holds for about 3 days without freezing. As a little bonus I'll also add in some dishes that use rosół as a base; mostly mentions tho as to not balloon the post. Rosół is a savory meat based broth like soup usually eaten with noodles, it is similar in composition to ramen but places less stress on additions and plating.

Prep time: 10-20 minutes (with great room to spare)

Cooking time: >4h (generally the longer the better)

You'll need: A rather large pot, a strainer (any size, optional), a source of continuous flame (either a gas stove or a candle tea heater both work well, a blowtorch or kitchen torch works in a pinch but I don't recommend it, don't bother with a lighter; it's not worth it, also optional but VERY strongly encouraged)

[recipe under the read more]

Rosół is cooked differently in each household; sometimes according to tradition but usually to taste so the ingredients I'm about to give are tentative and should be adjusted

Ingredients:

about 3lbs Meat

1 Onion (charred)

1 or 2 Parsley roots

1 Carrot

1 Celeriac / Celery Root (large)

1/2 a Leek or as much as will fit in the pot

1 bundle of Fresh Parsley

2-4 Celeriac Stems (optional)

12 whole grains of Peppercorn

1 whole grain of Allspice

1/2 a Bay Leaf

A lot of how the end result will taste depends on the meat used in cooking, that includes both animal and cuts. Traditionally rosół is made with beef cuts such as the shank (or flank) and brisket (you're looking for chewy cuts and ones with some fat on them, tho usually the cheaper the meat is, the better it will do) (as an aside, traditionally when an old dairy cow would die it's meat would be used for rosół among other things, so don't be concerned about the general quality and age of the meat you're using) and poultry wings (including wing tips) and necks such as chicken, duck, or goose. Something more controversial nowadays but still very traditional would be horse tail and horse meat, both it and oxtail is a really good choice if you can get them cheaply.

Beef adds a little bit of sourness to the broth so it should be balanced by either adding in a little bit more carrot or about 1/3 of it's weight in turkey. I'd advise against using only turkey as it makes the broth too sweet in my experience, but it remains a great addition for balancing. The gamyer the meat the more intense in flavor and light in feel the broth will be, so for special occasions getting a goose or duck can make for an amazing dish.

Preparation:

Peel and wash all the vegetables thoroughly, make sure to get the dirt from in between the leek leafs (I usually use a high pressure shower head but I'm sure a sink is sufficient), and to get all the nooks and crevices of the celeriac (tho don't cut off the knotted part it's not imperative you keep it but it is a bit wasteful to do so)

chop the root vegetables into thumb sized dice, this includes; the parsley roots, the celeriac, and the carrot. Do Not chop the onion.

Char the peeled onion! Set it onto a source of open flame so that it is touching the onion directly but is not engulfing the onion and wait about a minute or 5, then turn the onion over and repeat the process. Do not try to scrape off the char, it's supposed to stay. (skip this step if you don't have an open flame handy)

Tie the parsley into a knot so it will stay together while cooking.

Cooking:

Put all the meat into the largest pot you can muster, anything you could fit your head in (or maybe even a bit smaller) will work, and pour water into it so that it covers the raw meat completely. Add the peppercorns, allspice, bay, and the onion. Put the pot on high heat and bring it up to almost a gentle boil before cutting the heat completely. If you want to, you can strain the broth to get rid of the meat fuss, keeping all the spices and the onion, or just let the fuss settle to the bottom of the pot. I've also seen people use a smaller strainer to skim the fuss off the top. Put the pot on low heat and watch if it tries to boil, if it does, add a table spoon of cold water to quiet it down and lower the temperature, ideally your soup should be moving but not quite boiling, do not stir as it'll only damage the onion and redisperse the fuss. If at any point the onion begins to disintegrate simply pull it out so it doesn't make the soup cloudy, you can eat it as is or add it back later and have it with the soup. After at least an hour, or after the meat can be pierced with a meat fork, start putting in other ingredients in order of cook time: first the Parsley root, then the carrot, then the celeriac, the leek should get added at the very end with all the herbs (parsley and celeriac stems). I like to wait an hour between each ingredient but not everyone has 6 hours to make soup, even if you don't have to watch it, so ration your time accordingly. The soup is ready when the leak is cooked through or about half an hour to an hour after putting it in.

Plating and further processing:

Rosół is generally eaten with noodles, any size and shape will do but short thin strands are the most common. You can eat it as a 2 course meal with the broth and noodles as soup and the less chewy meat from it as the second course, my favorite way to eat it is with horseradish sauce made with the broth for which I will provide a recipe later!

Rosół is also a base for many different dishes. You can use the broth as a base for other soups like żurek, and the tougher, stringyer peaces of meat can be ground into pierogi filling, but one of the simplest ways to enhance another dish with it is using it in a horseradish sauce recipe:

ingredients: a table spoon of unsalted butter, a teaspoon of flour, 2 table spoons of rosół (substitutable with any kind of broth), horseradish paste (I use jarred, if you plan on grinding the horseradish yourself add a little bit of cream)

Into a very small pot on low to medium heat add the butter and melt it. Before it burns add the teaspoon of flour and wait for it to brown slightly, stir constantly to make sure it doesn't burn. Quench the rue with the broth, it should foam slightly so try not to spill any, and after it deflates a bit add the horseradish paste to taste. I tend to go for 2 table spoons (quite spicy) but make sure to make the sauce as spicy as you want it to be, the more horseradish the spicier it'll be.

Pour your sauce onto one of the tender peaces of meat extracted from your rosól and enjoy. This seemingly simple dish always fills me with great glee and a sense of accomplishment. There's nothing quite like a peace of meat with horseradish sauce, both a result of delicious soup.

[rebouks]

Previous // Next

[Robin sighed, listlessly poking through another stack of nonsense. He didn’t exactly want Alex to be anywhere near this place or in trouble, but half of him wished she were, just so he could see her again]

Aster: Can you really read minds n’ stuff? Robin: Depends if you believe me or not. Aster: I don’t know why you’d lie about it; you don’t seem the type.

Robin: I could prove it, if you want. Aster: Nah, I believe you. [Robin couldn’t help but smile a little; it was nice that Aster didn’t seem too perturbed]

Aster: It must be tough though, no wonder you’re usually so quiet-.. like, I think I’d find it hard to talk n’ stuff if I could hear everything people were thinking, second guessing myself all the time n’ that, y’know?

Robin: I guess I kinda got used to it. Aster: So, I suppose you know-… [SCREAMING – METAL CLANGING]

...

Robin: Aster!

Robin: Jesus-.. are you okay? [Aster scoffed with faint amusement-.. obviously not] Robin: Stupid question, huh?

Aster: Reckon I scared him off though. Robin: Hah, yeah… [Aster huffed slightly, his attempted chuckle manifesting as a bloody gurgle instead]

Robin: I’m sorry, Aster. [Aster shook his head slowly, feebly offering Robin his crowbar] Robin: I won’t leave you here, okay? I swear I’ll come back…

[waffle-spam]

Can you do wanderer/scaramouche or xiao x reader who is an animal archon!

Literally animals will be following reader EVERYWHERE and all of the animals trust her!

It's ok if you don't do it Ofc❤

Aaa my first ask! I've never written characterization for Scara before but I'll see what I can do :D

Scenario: You're the animal archon, constantly being followed by animals

Characters: Xiao, the Wanderer

Content: Fluff, Reader's gender isn't specified

Xiao:

Would keep his distance at first. Very worried that his karmic debt would hurt them

I always hc'ed Xiao to have bird-like traits or behaviors so I feel like he'd be subconsciously drawn to you as well

Either because he feels safe around you (the reason why most small animals seem to seek you out) or because he feels a need to protect you (the reason why larger animals gravitate toward you). His bird instincts and his warrior instincts contradict but either way he'd feel a pull towards you

Since you're an archon that means you're powerful enough to resist and maybe even counter his corruption (think like Venti playing music and the sound stopping Xiao from losing his mind).

Take him by the hand and reassure him that it's going to be okay, that you're not going to let the corruption affect any of the animals, that he's safe and welcome here.

The dogs and boars will look at the yaksha warily. It's not their fault -- they can sense the corruption and instinctively feel uneasy. Reassure them and they'll trust your judgement

He would watch in quiet fascination as a small finch approaches, allowing you to scoop it up in your nurturing hands

He'd freeze up as you reach out for his hand but he trusts you, letting you coax the little bird into his gloved hands

He would remain deathly still, not wanting to disturb the creature as it nestles against the worn leather of his gloves, fluffing up its feathers in satisfaction

Every once in a while on your travels, you'll be visited by a suspiciously familiar teal colored bird. It doesn't sing or chirp like the other birds. Instead, it sits itself in a nearby perch, as if watching over you and your animal friends almost protectively like you were its own flock

You sense its adeptal energy but you don't say anything about it

Sometimes you can coax it to come closer, though it always tries to keep some distance from the other animals for some reason.

Due to your status and powers as an archon, very few monsters ever approach close enough to bother you to begin with but whenever the teal finch is in the vicinity, it's like there aren't any monsters in sight. Almost as if its presence was repelling them...

Wanderer:

Wait. You're an archon? Yikes

Jk if this is Hat Guy and not the Balladeer, he probably doesn't care (or isn't AS bothered) that you're a godly entity. Besides, if he causes trouble, Aunt Buer will make him apologize anyway...

The first time you arrive in Sumeru (It's been a couple hundred years since you visited due to trying to avoid the bouts of Withering caused by the Cataclysm. You didn't want animals following you there and getting sick) you see a small little creature with a :] face approaching you. Well, at first you don't identify what it is because it's covered by what looks like a big hat

it places the hat in front of you and makes a bouncing motion, as if in greeting

Not long after the little creature sets down its "offering" to you, you hear footsteps that give way to the arrival of a very angry looking puppet.

The rishboland tigers laying down beside you give a small warning growl and the little shroomboars huddle behind you for protection from this new person.

At first he thinks you're just a mortal and asks what the tell you think you're doing sitting out in the wilderness contracting diseases from wild animals (which earns another growl from the rishboland tiger that was enjoying a nice nap resting its head in your lap)

But then he'd sense that you're an archon and give you a look but not say anything

You'd have to convince the Aranara (or the "forest gremlin", as the Wanderer put it) to return the hat back to him

"Is this your friend?" You ask, amused, after coaxing the fairy-like creature to release the hat.

"Hardly." The Wanderer crosses his arms, eyes flashing with contempt. "Little menace follows me around constantly. The whole lot of them do. And they just... watch."

"It's been a while since I've interacted with one," you think out loud, coaxing the shroomboars to come out of hiding. "But from what I remember, Aranara normally only ever show themselves around small children. They must see something in you that makes them trust you."

"..."

For a moment, the crease in the Wanderer's forehead disappears. An unreadable expression crosses his face as if he were contemplating your words, but as soon as the expression appeared it was gone.

He grit his teeth and let out a dry laugh, as if deciding to disregard your words.

Alternate version for Scaramouche's part:

Being the animal archon, you can sense things in living beings.

Specifically, when they're not actually living beings.

Living things had a pulse. They breathed. They strained when put under stress but healed and kept living.

Ruin Guards have a constant creaking sound whenever they move, artificially propelled by magic that had stopped being practiced before even you manifested into the world. Maybe your predecessor would have seen it, understood it. The clockwork meka in Fontaine give off a metronomic clicking sound, keeping time through their walk cycles and other pre-programmed movements.

Sure, these things are animated, but it would be a stretch to call them alive.

When you first met the Wanderer, you didn't sense a pulse, nor did you hear that telltale clicking of gears and wires. He wasn't quite alive, but too elaborate to come across as an artificial imitation.

Maybe, after knowing each other for a looong time, Wanderer will disclose his past to you. How he isn't a god nor a human.

The two of you are sitting in a clearing, you followed by animals, him followed by Aranara.

"Well... Even if you're not the same species as a human..." You say after thinking for a long while, "I still consider you to be a person."

His eyes widen ever so slightly as he listens to you.

"You have the capacity to think and feel and want, just like anyone else. To me, that makes you just as alive as any human, even if you don't share some of the physical traits."

With the way he described his past, such a human reaction to pain and betrayal, the only thing that seemed to set him apart was the godly ability he inherited.

He'd consider your words in silence, not offering a response, but for a moment you swore you heard a heartbeat.

A/N: I was mostly just throwing things at the wall and seeing if it worked for this one. Idk how to write Scaramouche I'm sorry asdfjkl

[feminist-space]

"“It’s not your fault,” I told 16-year-old Cara, whose mother died of a SARS-CoV-2 infection [Cara] gave her. To be clear, the doctor confirmed Cara (not her real name) had passed on the virus and Covid was entered on the death certificate as the cause of death.

Cara’s mother had not been outside their home in the weeks preceding her death.

When masks were dropped in the “Omicron’s mild” phase of the pandemic, Cara continued as the lone masker at school to protect her immunocompromised mother, who was undergoing chemotherapy. It was tolerable until a child psychotherapist said on the national airwaves that some girls would continue to mask anyway “to hide their acne”.

His words were used to bully her. Cara left, but without support from teachers she strugg­led. Her parents pleaded with the school to use the Hepa filter they bought. The school refused.

Cara eventually returned to school unmasked, caught Covid and infected her mam. It killed her. Cara self-harms because she blames herself. She hasn’t been to school since.

Research shows that more than 70pc of Sars-CoV-2 transmission in households started with a child.

The incidence was highest during unmitigat­ed in-person schooling. In a recent paper, Dr Pantea Javidan, of Stanford’s Centre for Human Rights, described the ways children’s rights to life, health and safety during the ongoing pandemic have been falsely rendered oppositional to education and development.

Methods used to manufacture consent to forcibly, repeatedly infect children, according to Dr Javidan, include minimising harms to children (“kids don’t get it or spread it”, “it’s mild”) and moral panic around mental health and educational attainment.

Regarding mental health, in August a study looking at paediatric psychiatric emergencies found school openings – not lockdowns – were associated with an increase in the number of emergency psychiatric visits.

In May, a study found that children with and without congenital heart defects showed increased risks for a variety of cardiovascular outcomes (including cardiac arrest, clots, palpitations) after Sars-CoV-2 infection.

In July, a study found that children and teenagers experienced cognitive impairment 12 months post-Covid infection, consistently correlated with poorer sleep and behavioural and emotional functioning.

Last month alone, several studies were published documenting Covid paediatric harms.

One found that children and adolescents experience prolonged symptoms post-Sars-CoV-2 infection in almost every organ system.

Study co-author Professor Lawrence C Kleinman said: “We have convincing evidence that Covid is not just a mild, benign illness for children. This is a new chronic illness in children. We need to be prepared to deal with it for a generation.”

Another study analysing paediatric and adult hospitalisations found teenagers were at greatest risk of severe disease among all children. Yet another study showed compelling connections between viral infection and subsequent autoimmune disease. Early in the pandemic, some children showed negligible Covid symptoms, only to later develop organ failure.

Researchers found the children’s immune systems had latched on to a part of the coronavirus that closely resembles a protein found in the heart, lungs, kidneys, brain, skin, eyes and GI tract and launched a catastrophic attack on their own tissues. “Experts” who claimed asymptomatic paediatric Sars2 infections equals mild were catastrophically wrong.

Covid is consistently a leading cause of US child mortality. Paediatric mortality has increased markedly with each year of the pandemic in the US, UK and elsewhere. In 2022, over six times as many children died from Covid than from flu in the US."

[prophecyofwinter]

Se Riña Qilōni Iprattan Se Jēdar | VII

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary | Saera Targaryen, daughter of King Jaehaerys I, ran away from Westeros to escape her fate. 45 years later her daughter Y/N Targaryen, with an invitation from King Viserys wishes to go back.

Tags | Angst, Slowburn (Hot&Cold), TargCest, Smut, Standard ASOIAF content, Aemond and Reader are First Cousins Once Removed, Reader is Self-serving, Terrible Sibling Dynamics, Fluff, Attempted Sexual Assault tags to be added

Special warnings | Violence against women, Incel-like behavior, descriptions of injuries, sexual assault, Parental Abuse

Word Count | 3.6k

Authors Note | Last extremely lore heavy chapter for a while. I will be giving a nice treat for next chapter!!! ✨

Prologue | Chapter VI | Masterlist

Chapter VII | My Brothers Keeper

You were awoken by a deep, carnal pain from your lower back. Your back arched up as you gasped yourself awake. You must’ve turned over wrong and put your full body weight on your bruise.  Letting the weight off did absolutely nothing, the pain and throbbing persisted anyway. 

You felt a pressure rising in your throat alarmingly fast, cupping your hand over your mouth you dash over to your chamber pot and let your insides empty out. You started dry heaving over the pot with not much besides liquid, you hadn’t had anything to eat since you broke your fast yesterday morning. The pain mixed with starvation made your stomach stir in such a way as to bring you to this point.

You manage to stand yourself back up on wobbly feet. If not for the gigantic bruise on your lower back you wouldn’t be so humiliatingly weak. You brace yourself on the chair of your vanity and see the state of yourself. 

Your hair is in tangled disarray, your face is reddened and puffy, and you look like a disaster…your maids didn’t have time to prepare you for bed at all. Ellyn must’ve been scared by the sight of Aemond; she didn’t even think about it. Is this what Aemond saw? Was this why he pulled away so suddenly? No… was it?

You’re already awake and there’s no way you can go back to sleep in this state. You shuffle to your chamber door to open to peak out into the dark stone halls, only lit by torches. Standing there for a few minutes until you flag down a maid carrying a basket of towels.

“I need to- to break my fast- my fast early.” You whisper with a tight throat. The sun had broken from the horizon moments ago, you wouldn’t be given food for a few hours if you hadn’t requested it now. The maid nodded with a ‘Yes My Princess’ and continued on her way.

You retreat into your chambers with a hiss, the throbbing pinch coming back when you walk, and a growl in your stomach.

‘What would I even eat?’ The thought hadn’t occurred to you until just now. Just soups, juices, and teas for you.

You touch your neck gently and you finch back, but then the flinch makes it hurt too. Tears start to form on your waterline and threaten to fall, crying would hurt too. Tears of pain and frustration.

This is all Vaegons fault. Vaegon is the source of your injuries, his ever-growing obsession with you has tilted his mind, your mother should've forced him to stay home, she should’ve let you go alone.

You bury your head in your hands and begin to sob regardless of the pain it brings you to move your neck. Mind swirling with so many thoughts where do you even start?

You hate Vaegon; you hate him more than you ever had before, you’ve hated him since childhood, and he’s always found a way to injure you out of frustration. You feel no sympathy for him; he knew that you would never love him, coming to Westeros guaranteed it. Vaegon has always felt entitled to you, knowing it was over was too much for him you suppose.

‘Sister! I have come to rescue you!’ Vaegon called up to you holding a wooden sword. You sat on your tall bed looking down at Vaegon with a small gold tiara on your head that was a gift from your mother.

Marra, a worker from your mother's pleasure house that normally looked after you both during the daytime sat on the bed with you to make sure you two didn’t injure yourselves. 

‘No! You ruined it! I’m a Princess! Not your sister! Do it again!’ You whined at Vaegon because he ruined the whole plot. Vaegon yelled out in childlike frustration after being forced to redo his lines for what felt like the 500th time for a child this young.

Vaegon was 7 and you had just turned 6. Vaegon claimed repeatedly that he was too old for childish games like pretend, but he still did it because you demanded it. Either because he cared for his little sister or because you would beat him with his wooden sword if he said no. 

‘Let’s calm down. Perhaps we’ve played too much pretend for one afternoon’ Marra laughed lightly at your childish bickering. 

You huffed and fell back into the pillows on the bed. Marra move your tiara out of your hair so it doesn’t get tangled up in your hair. You tired yourself out simply from yelling at Vaegon all afternoon for not fitting your perfect ‘play pretend’ idealization of what a warrior should be. 

Vaegon clamored onto the bed after a few attempts, earning a soft gasp of surprise from Marra.

‘You can get onto the bed by yourself Vaegon? You’ll be old enough to train at the Red Church soon.’ 

Vaegon gasped at the praise with stars in his eyes, rambling on and on about all the great things he would do for the Lord of Light. You scoffed at Vaegons ramblings, your dreams were WAY more realistic, obviously. 

‘Okay, little princess. What do you want to be when you grow up?’ Marra poked your tummy and laughed.

‘Easy! I want to marry a prince!’ You scoff out childishly, so confident as if it was that easy.

‘What?! That would never happen! That’s stupid!’ Vaegon sat on his knees and mocked you.

‘Vaegon’ Marra said with a warning tone and he laid down at Marra's other side. 

‘There are no Princes in Essos. So you want to marry a Targaryen Prince then? I’ve heard there are many just around your age. Lucky you, little lady’

‘Yes! I’ll claim a dragon too and we will fly high in the sky together! He’ll be beautiful with long silver hair-“ You start to ramble about your ideal Targaryen Prince until all of a sudden you feel a blunt force on your knee. You yell out and grip your knee, tears already flowing down your cheeks. 

‘Vaegon! What has gotten into you!’ Marra yells out and grabs your brother by the wrists making him drop his wooden sword he struck your knee with. 

You curl up in a ball sobbing in pain while holding your knee that will show a developing bruise anytime now. Vaegon is fighting back against Marra with tears streaming down his face out of frustration. 

Through your tear-stained eyes, you look over to Vaegon, for the first time you see this face. Vaegons eyes have turned black, with no sign of purple at all. Pupils fully eclipsed the iris. Being held at the hands by Marra reduced him back to a sobbing boy and he collapsed into her arms.

Ellyn placed a smaller assortment of foods at your table than normal. Due to your current condition, you can only consume certain foods without harsh pain. Ellyn has taken up the task of bringing you a new kind of tea to try every day.

“A shipment just came in and I had to brew a pot for you Princess. This is blood orange tea!” She looks excited for you to try this in particular. You reach for the cup and blow on it before taking a sip while Ellyn waits excitedly. It of course is citrusy, pretty sweet, and a little tart. Pretty nice compared to the one from yesterday morning.

You give Ellyn a happy expression showing that you enjoyed it. Gods you need your throat to heal… Pure delight painted her face and she clapped her hands together before she grabbed the rest of the food. Mainly just Oatmeal and Soft Fruits.

Mela had a bath set up for you immediately after you finished eating. You let out a moan of sweet bliss as you sunk into the tub. The hot water felt ethereal, it was like a warm hug that kissed your swollen skin as a lover would. The sunlight hit the room and painted it with the colors of dawn.

“Ellyn told me that the Prince personally applied your ointment last night. Quite intimate, quite scandalous…” Mela laughed, squeezing out water from a sponge, and started scrubbing your back. 

“Yes, very focused and very gentle on the Princess,” Ellyn spoke up, matching Melas' laugh.

“Oh my, attentive and gentle? You may have your hands full for the coming moons after you are wed.” Mela continued to tease in a motherly way and Ellyn giggled in the back while cleaning up from breakfast. A blush rises on your cheeks remembering the intimate moment you and Aemond shared. It became a bittersweet feeling; it hasn’t been that long since you came, but it feels like an eternity. 

You hear a roar far off in the distance, you sit up with excitement in your veins when you realize it’s a dragon. This is the first one you’ve ever seen, your balcony gives you a perfect view. The grand beast took flight outside of Kings Landing, the beast was massive and so green. The dawn sky made it look so divine, so godly. You were at a loss for words. This is better than anything you could’ve dreamed of.

“Ah, right there is Prince Aemonds dragon. Vhagar is her name, the biggest dragon alive.” Mela realized it was your first time seeing a dragon. Your face was filled with childlike awe. It filled Melas' heart with joy to see you like this after the sorrow and pain of last night. 

“Vhagar…” you whispered, eyes following Vhagars path in the sky. 

“My Queen- I didn’t notice you entered.”

You turned to see Queen Alicent at your chamber door, you didn’t know how long she’d been there. Alicent wore her hair free and dress loose, it was extremely early, and you wouldn’t expect anyone to wear proper dress at this hour. You jumped a little at her presence, you were in a bath with no way to make yourself decent.

“We are all women here, sweet girl. Nothing I do not have myself.”

Alicent smiles and pulls over a stool next to the tub. You hold yourself together even though she can fully see your chest. She doesn’t look like she cares so you choose to ignore it.

“Your brother is in the dungeons, he will be kept there until the council knows what to do with him. It is likely that, due to his transgressions. He will be put to the sword-“

The words hit your body before they hit your mind. Without even thinking you move forward in the tub to grab and hold Alicent by the arms. Having your body fully out in the open seconds ago would’ve made you squeak into a corner but you are too shocked to care.

“No! Let him go home-“ Your sentence gets cut off when the pain on your bruises gets too rough and a wheeze rises. Mela grabs you tightly and leans you back into the tub with a scared expression pointed at you. 

Alicent looks frightened herself, eyes wide, breath heavy, and leaned back in her seat, not expecting you to have such a reaction. She would’ve expected you to be at least a little joyful. Vaegon attacked and strangled you, then ran away to escape like a little girl. 

You couldn’t do that to your mother. Letting your brother die in a foreign land, to a foreign man, with a foreign sword. Have him murdered while crowds got a sick kick of seeing a Targaryen bastard get their head chopped off. Would claim it would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see a Targaryen head on a stick. You would be forced to be happy and proud about it else you would be blamed for sympathizing with him. 

You don’t love him, you don’t like him, you tolerate him for your mother.

They wouldn’t understand how you hate him. They wouldn’t hate him how you do. They don’t know how

You sat at your vanity brushing your hair, about six and ten at the time. You heard the door open to your room, of course, it was Vaegon, you didn’t even have to look. He tended to let himself in, after a decade of it you couldn’t even try to bring a care. 

“Vaegon I told you not to come in my room after-“Your groan was caught as a lump in your throat when your eyes looked to the corner of your mirror to see a man that didn’t have white hair or purple eyes. 

“I’ll be Vaegon if you want me to.” This man said with a partly toothless smile that made your bones crack. He was ugly, with no scars or trauma, the gods just decided he was to be ugly. 

You stood with quickness and ripped open the top drawer of the vanity to grab a knife that had been sitting there since the vanity had. Turning to him and holding out the knife as though you’d looked threatening. 

“I always knew Saera Targaryen hid other girls around for prized keeping. I didn’t think the daughter would be the one I’d find. Lucky me.” He licked his pipes and walked toward you slowly, sometimes falsely jumping forward just to see you yell in fear and jump back. His laugh at your weakness made your stomach turn and your mind pruden. 

Your grip on the knife got stronger and stronger to the point where it might’ve cut you harder than it would’ve ever cut him. You didn’t realize until your back hit the wall, that you were cornered, with nowhere to run between you and the disgusting man. 

“D-Do you know who I am?! I could have you speared from ass to mouth for this!” The unconvincing tone in your voice did nothing to sway him. You can have him killed, that’s not a lie, but it didn’t sound like the truth.

He said nothing, you just now noticed the knife in his hand. It was covered in fresh blood still slowly gathering on the tip of the blade. You looked back up to him, he noticed that you noticed.

“This? There was a whore cunt walking the halls and I couldn’t have her screaming and running away. I’d had her before so there was no point in trying her again.”

Your mind went numb, you couldn’t think. Marra… it was Marra's blood. He killed Merra and left her body in the hallway, didn’t he? Marra was dead.

The woman who cared for you since you were a babe. When your mother couldn’t when your mother was too busy. She was there. Whore or not. She was your second mother. Your thoughts were jumbled and scattered.

You don’t even remember how you got here.

The next thing you see is you over his corpse with his throat slit and your arms tired from gouging your knife in and out of his skull. No one would’ve even known that he was a grotesquely ugly man, he is reduced to maimed and unrecognizable. By the strain of your arms, you had been going at it for 3 minutes uninterrupted. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop, blood had splattered up your arms, on your chest, and dripping down your chin.

Arms wrapped around your waist and hulled you away from the man. The two of you collapsed back on the floor, you couldn’t take the knife with you, it had been driven so deep it was stuck in the floor. 

You attempted to claw yourself out of the grip of your restrainer; your body was telling you, you weren’t done, you needed to keep going, it felt carnal. 

“Sister! It’s alright! It’s your Big Brother!” Vaegon shook you with a tight grip around your arms and chest.

There was no way you’d be able to free yourself from his grip. Your body was forced to calm down, you collapsed into Vaegons hold. Your body was tired, all you wanted to do was sleep. 

“I- I- Marra“was still delirious you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t even register it was Vaegon holding you.

“Shhh… I know sister, Shhhh…” Vaegon rocked you back and forth, rubbing your hair softly.

You barely noticed when Vaegon started to lick the blood off your face. You couldn’t muster up the energy or the thought process to feel anything about it.

“If that will bring you to peace, then… I will share your wishes with the small council.” A sigh came from the Queen's lips. Her assumptions of your character were challenged in the past 24 hours. You could tell in the way her eyes changed from when you first met her to how she looks at you now 

She looks at you like a small injured chick that has fallen from the nest. The past 24 hours have ruined your reputation, you will be seen as a little foreign girl who cried like a babe. The ladies of the court will look down at you as a kicked puppy. Vaegon ruined everything before you even had a chance… 

Alicent touched your hand with hers, she gave you a pitiful look.

“In the Faith of the Seven, forgiveness is a great step to take. However, your brother's attack is a matter bigger than you or I. A letter will be sent to your mother informing her of what has transpired.” 

“Thank you, my Queen.” You forced your voice and a smile, she must believe you want to help Vaegon.

“Once you are healed. You are welcome to visit the sept with me.” She gave your hand a final rub and gestured to make her leave.

This wasn’t to help Vaegon at all, you wanted nothing more than for him to die. Vaegon wasn’t a kill Westeros could have, this is yours. 

To slide a knife at his throat like a musician making sweet melodies on a violin. To see the despair in his eyes when he knew his sister was the one to take his life. Perhaps you would strangle him and watch life leave his eyes. Torturing him for days and nights until he gave out. Begging at your skirts with snot and tears running down his face for you to spare him. You didn’t want a crowd, this was personal, this was private.

Vaegon is yours

You stood over Marra's corpse. 

Her body was cleaned, her throat sewed back up, new proper clothes dressed her body, tasteful makeup.

The man didn’t just slit her throat he sawed at it. Her head was almost off her neck but he couldn’t get through her spine. 

She died just because you existed, she was simply doing what she did every day. She didn’t instigate, she didn’t bother anyone. She just happened to be alive in this man’s way to get to you.

A Red Priest wasn’t supposed to arrive for another hour to administer The Last Kiss. A death rite in the faith of R’hllor, where a Priest blows fire from his mouth into the deceased and burns them inside. 

Vaegon stood behind you, unmoving, hands folded in front of his form. When you looked back at him you couldn’t tell a thing about him, he looked different. He didn’t look sad, it was something you hadn’t seen before.

He moved to stand directly behind you, his chest pressed against your back and his breath on your hair. His hands held your waist on both sides, caressing up and down gently. You pry at his hands, digging your nails into his skin and trying to shake yourself free.

“Vaegon-!”

“You need someone to take care of you now. Please allow that to be me, sweet sister.” Vaegon leaned in and kissed your cheek trying to sway you into a full kiss.

“Marra!- get the fuck off me! You’re sick, Vaegon!” You yelled, you shook and flailed to escape him but his grip simply grew tighter. He chased after your face to get a chance to get a taste of your sweet rosey lips, his left hand daring to venture lower. You continued to scream and kick to get away.

“Agh!-“ Vaegon yelled in pain abruptly, releasing you from his tight hold leaving you to sink to the ground in shock. 

“How dare you Vaegon!” Your mother had a grip on the hair of Vaegons scalp as she yanked him down to the floor by his hair.

“Mommy!- I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Vaegon cried as Saera held his head up and started striking him repeatedly across the face. Vaegon could overpower your mother easily, but he would never dare in a thousand winters. He could only sit there, take it, and beg for it to stop.

You breathed heavily, bringing yourself back to witness the sight of your brother getting what was coming to him. 

“Go to your room!” Your mother paused and flicked her head to you.

“But I didn’t do any-!“

“NOW!!!!” She screamed at you in a way you hadn’t heard before. You scrambled up onto your feet and hauled your ass up to your room before she could demand it again.

You heard her screams at Vaegon, relentlessly rolling off her tongue along with slapping and Vaegons pleas for ‘mommy’ to stop.

‘Did I nurse a wild fucking animal at my breast?!’ ‘Over her corpse Vaegon?!’ ‘You could have any whore in my supply and you push yourself onto my only girl?!’

You sunk back into your tub with Alicents leave. You sat like an alligator waiting for prey, emerging from the water with eyes resting above.

Perhaps being seen as weak isn’t the weakness you thought it would be. A weak woman means sympathy, it means comfort from the ladies of the court, it means your mistakes can be written off as naivety.

Your mother showed you what a conniving and smart woman looked like. You didn't cross the narrow sea to be a cowering princess. 

You must pull the strings of your destiny as your mother did. 

Starting small of course.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Tess Finch-Lees: If parents don’t fight to protect children from Covid in schools, nobody else will - Published Sept 5, 2024

By: Tess Finch-Lees

“It’s not your fault,” I told 16-year-old Cara, whose mother died of a SARS-CoV-2 infection she gave her. To be clear, the doctor confirmed Cara (not her real name) had passed on the virus and Covid was entered on the death certificate as the cause of death.

Cara’s mother had not been outside their home in the weeks preceding her death.

When masks were dropped in the “Omicron’s mild” phase of the pandemic, Cara continued as the lone masker at school to protect her immunocompromised mother, who was undergoing chemotherapy. It was tolerable until a child psychotherapist said on the national airwaves that some girls would continue to mask anyway “to hide their acne”.

His words were used to bully her. Cara left, but without support from teachers she strugg­led. Her parents pleaded with the school to use the Hepa filter they bought. The school refused.

Cara eventually returned to school unmasked, caught Covid and infected her mam. It killed her. Cara self-harms because she blames herself. She hasn’t been to school since.

Research shows that more than 70pc of Sars-CoV-2 transmission in households started with a child.

The incidence was highest during unmitigat­ed in-person schooling. In a recent paper, Dr Pantea Javidan, of Stanford’s Centre for Human Rights, described the ways children’s rights to life, health and safety during the ongoing pandemic have been falsely rendered oppositional to education and development.

Methods used to manufacture consent to forcibly, repeatedly infect children, according to Dr Javidan, include minimising harms to children (“kids don’t get it or spread it”, “it’s mild”) and moral panic around mental health and educational attainment.

Regarding mental health, in August a study looking at paediatric psychiatric emergencies found school openings – not lockdowns – were associated with an increase in the number of emergency psychiatric visits.

In May, a study found that children with and without congenital heart defects showed increased risks for a variety of cardiovascular outcomes (including cardiac arrest, clots, palpitations) after Sars-CoV-2 infection.

In July, a study found that children and teenagers experienced cognitive impairment 12 months post-Covid infection, consistently correlated with poorer sleep and behavioural and emotional functioning.

Last month alone, several studies were published documenting Covid paediatric harms. One found that children and adolescents experience prolonged symptoms post-Sars-CoV-2 infection in almost every organ system.

Study co-author Professor Lawrence C Kleinman said: “We have convincing evidence that Covid is not just a mild, benign illness for children. This is a new chronic illness in children. We need to be prepared to deal with it for a generation.”

Another study analysing paediatric and adult hospitalisations found teenagers were at greatest risk of severe disease among all children. Yet another study showed compelling connections between viral infection and subsequent autoimmune disease. Early in the pandemic, some children showed negligible Covid symptoms, only to later develop organ failure.

Researchers found the children’s immune systems had latched on to a part of the coronavirus that closely resembles a protein found in the heart, lungs, kidneys, brain, skin, eyes and GI tract and launched a catastrophic attack on their own tissues. “Experts” who claimed asymptomatic paediatric Sars2 infections equals mild were catastrophically wrong.

Covid is consistently a leading cause of US child mortality. Paediatric mortality has increased markedly with each year of the pandemic in the US, UK and elsewhere. In 2022, over six times as many children died from Covid than from flu in the US.

The UN Convention on the Rights of a Child requires states to “recognise the right of the child to the enjoyment of the highest attainable standard of health” and to fully implement this right. Children’s rights to education include a safe environment not harmful to their health.

Cara and her parents fought for these rights. They were denied, with devastating consequences. Irish schools are legally obliged to clean indoor air and prevent the spread of airborne diseases. Prevention plan? Three Hail Marys.

In year five of an airborne pandemic, parents, Dr Ciara Steele and Sinéad O’Brien set up Clean Air Advocacy Ireland.

Dr Steele said: “Children are vulnerable, they rely on adults to advocate on their behalf. They have a fundamental right to breathe clean, pathogen-free air in schools. That means CO2 monitors, Hepa filters and ventilation in every classroom.”

A recent study in Finland found air purifiers in day-cares led to a 30pc reduction in children’s illnesses. In March 2022, Italy’s Marche region installed mechanical ventilation in some schools, reducing Covid infections in classrooms by 82pc.

Education Minister Norma Foley previously committed €62m for Hepa filters in Irish schools. Where are they?

WHO advice is clear – protect yourself and loved ones from Covid. Stay home if sick, test, get boosted, ventilate, wear a mask when around others. Unless parents are prepared to say “We do not consent to repeatedly exposing our children to biohazardous Sars2 in schools”, our consent will be presumed tacit.

[mxeve0]

juuust curious, are your requests are open? 👀 if they are, can you right an Atticus x reader fic where the reader is like cockwarming atticus while he works and they keep squirming and whining and atticus is just like “hm, just a few more minutes (he’s been saying that for the last hour)”

OMG OF COURSE I CAN and let’s ignore how long this took 😃

Masterlist

Atticus Finch X Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, unprotected sex (don't be silly guys don't do that 😐), semi public? teasing, oral (m receiving)

Context: You visit Atticus in his office, thinking he’d only be a few minutes more before you could go home, yet you ended up on his lap for an hour…

Just A Little Longer~

You shuffled on his lap, trying to gain some sort of friction. You'd been sat here for probably an hour and a half, Atticus' cock firmly inside you as he filed paperwork and the like. The two of you had grown close, with you working as a receptionist as the law firm he was at, and had 'unofficially' begun dating a few months ago.

Today, you'd decided to visit him in his office since your shift had ended, and he was still working, like usual.

“I’ll be done in a minute darlin’, if you want to hang around,” he’d said to you when you’d entered his office. So you waited…and waited…and waited. Eventually you had given up and decided to take matters into your own hands. Managing to steal his attention away for just long enough, you had been able to work your way onto his lap, sneakily undoing his belt and pants as he continued to work over your shoulder.

“Come on~” you whined, fidgeting around on his lap. His hand gripped your hip, keeping you in place, fully ignoring your pleading. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, frustrated as hell. As he loosened his grip to focus on his work you began to move around again, in desperate need of friction.

“Oh come on, you can last longer than that, can’t you darlin’~?” He said teasingly, pausing his work to look at your flustered face. Then you realised.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” You yelled, unbothered by if anyone would hear. It was well past the office closing time anyway, so you doubted anyone was still here. He laughed quietly, going back to the papers in his desk.

“Hush now, if you let me focus I’ll be done sooner.” You groaned, resting your head on his shoulder.

“That’s what you said an hour ago,” you whined, looking at the clock on the wall behind him. He chuckled again, his fingers tracing circles on the small of your back. Your skin shivered at the feel of his touch through the thin fabric of your dress.

You try again to gain some friction, shuffling around on his lap with your arms around his neck, keeping your torsos pressed against each other. Being sat like this for so long your body had gotten used to his girth stretching you out, but every slight movement you made sent a pulse through your entire body.

“Please~,” you whine against his ear, one hand tangling in his hair while the other lazily fiddles with the knot of his tie. Atticus sighed, pushing your head away from his neck to look at him.

“Oh come on, you can last a little longer, huh?” He said teasingly, a smirk on his lips and one eyebrow raised. As much as you hated it, all the teasing turned you on so much more, making you need him even more. So really this was all his fault. But he knew that.

You tugged at his tie harder, finally getting it loose enough to pull it off, tossing it somewhere behind you. He laughed quietly, pulling your hands away as you unbuttoned the first few on his shirt.

You heard the click of his pen cap closing before you could whine again, feeling the anticipation rising through your body. He slides his hands under the hem of your dress that was bunched up around your hips and thighs, his skin cold against yours. Keeping his cock nestled inside you, he lifts you up ever so gently and lays you on his desk. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you for a kiss.

Your lips connect, his warm breath filling your mouth; his hands push the fabric of your dress further up your, the air cold against your bare skin. He breaks away from the kiss for a brief moment to slip the dress over your head. You take the opportunity to undo the rest of his shirt buttons, sliding it down his shoulders and off his body.

His chest is warm against yours as he leans down, your lips reconnecting. You can taste the coffee on his breath as the kiss deepens; you’re hungry for him. One hand rests on your waist, keeping you in place beneath him, while the other slides between your torsos, reaching your chest.

His hand is gentle as he pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb, and you can’t help the quiet moans that escape your lips between each kiss. Slowly, Atticus moves his hips back and forth, giving you the friction you begged for after so long.

Your fingers intertwine in his hair as he slowly pulls away from you and begins to leave a trail of kisses along your jawline and down your neck towards your collarbone. The lustful moans that leave your throat fill the room as he slowly picks up the pace.

His hand leaves your chest and his thumb finds your clit, a shiver running up your spine as he does. Your brain is overwhelmed by the feelings caused by his actions, no doubt on purpose, and as he straightened his posture and tightened his grip on you, all you could mumble were incoherent mumbles and a cacophony of moans.

Underneath your own voice you could hear quiet groans coming from Atticus, matching his pace. He knows you’re close, his pace slow to draw out your pleasure as long as possible. As much as you appreciated it, you had been waiting well over an hour for release, and you wanted it now.

“F- ngh~ faster~” you manage to say between moans, reaching your hand down to meet his just above his cock. He obliges, his groans become louder as he picks up the place, both his hands keeping you in place by your hips. Your moans become a mixture of mewls and whines, along with his name. He leans over you, placing sloppy kisses on your neck, growing breathless with each thrust and you wrap your arms around him.

The heat rises in your core, a satisfying wave of ecstasy washing over you. Your nails dig into his back as your legs shake uncontrollably, your back arching your body up towards his. Atticus slows as you come down from your high, coming to a stop. For a moment, heavy breathing fills the room, your head fuzzy with pleasure.

Eventually, when you come to your senses, you find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows, looking up at him. He groans slightly as he pulls his cock out of you, coated in your slick, before cupping your face with his hands and pulling you into a kiss.

You reach down, wrapping your hand around his still very hard dick, gently grazing your thumb over the head. He moans into your mouth at your touch, almost involuntarily, twitching in your hand. You pull back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips still.

“Sit,” you say, have lustfully, half authoritatively. He obeys the command, sit down in the chair, laying his arms in the rests. You slide off the desk and into your knees, nestling yourself in between his thighs.

Wrapping your hand back around his cock, you slowly begin to pump up and down. You can feel it twitching and pulsing with every movement; it wouldn’t be long before he came. Placing your lips just over the tip, you lick the head a few times, earning quiet moans from Atticus.

You widen your mouth enough to fit it in, and slowly lower your head until the tip hits the back of your throat. As you begin to bob your head up and down, you use your hand to stroke what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, making sure to match the pace.

The twitching and throbbing becomes more spastic, along with his moans becoming more erotic. You hear him mumble something about being close, but he’s cut off by his own orgasm. His hands tighten their grip on the arm rests, and his hips jolt and shudder.

Warm, thick ropes of cum coat your tongue as you slowly continue to pump the base of his cock, getting every last drop out. Atticus sighs, his breath heavy, as you lift your head away. Begrudgingly, you swallow the salty liquid, realising there was nowhere else to put it.

“You.. never mind,” he laughs tiredly, a finger stroking your cheek. After regaining his strength, he stands up, grabbing your dress and his tie from off the floor, handing the fabric to you. “What are we going to do about that mess, hmm?” He asks, tilting his head and gesturing towards the slick running down your thighs and staining your pushed aside panties.

You grab the dress and put it on, holding the bottom half up, away from the mess. Looking around his office, you think.

“Tissues?”

•———•———•———•

Ignore the shitting ending I’ve forgotten how to finish stuff TwT

[coraniaid]

(Speaking of projecting things into the show that I don't think the writers intended, let's go back to my Season 3 Buffy rewatch and talk a bit more about Faith.)

There's an interesting moment in Bad Girls that gets echoed a few episodes later in Enemies (presumably deliberately, since both episodes were written by Doug Petrie).

Both episodes feature a scene where Faith, having just killed somebody (Allan Finch in Bad Girls, the demon offering to sell the Books of Ascension in Enemies) appears to show regret for her actions (coming back to stare at Finch's body in Bad Girls, staring at the blood on her hands in Enemies). And in both cases, if you listen to the episode's writer, this is meant to mislead the viewers: Faith actually isn't meant to be feeling guilty at all.

The audience is meant to think that Faith is feeling bad, only for her later actions to surprise us (either because she was just planning to dump the body in Bad Girls, or because she immediately goes on to try to exploit her apparent crisis of conscience to try to recruit Angel to the Mayor's side) and show that she really wasn't feeling anything of the sort. On the Bad Girls audio commentary, Doug Petrie is pretty clear about this: "she really doesn't", he says, after Faith tells Buffy she dumped Finch's body and claims not to care that she killed him.

The thing is though, that ... this doesn't really make sense. If Doug Petrie had not literally written the episode I wouldn't give it much thought at all. In-universe, who is Faith meant to be trying to fool? She's alone in both these scenes, after all. She doesn't actually have anybody watching her. Doug Petrie might have intended the scenes where she seems to show remorse to be misdirections, but they are written (and performed) in such a way that this interpretation doesn't really seem convincing.

And so, by including them, the most plausible reading of the show becomes, not that Faith was pretending to be upset in order to trick an invisible audience, but rather that she genuinely is feeling guilt on some level. A feeling which she then goes on to surpress for as long as she can, arguably right up until next year's Five by Five. Buffy is actually correct: on some level, Faith does care and wants help. She just isn't able to articulate that or admit to it, and by the time she is able to she's gone far enough that Buffy is no longer willing to offer any help.

Fortunately, then, this is also a much more interesting take on the character. A Faith who accidentally kills somebody and genuinely doesn't regret it at all isn't very compelling as a character and doesn't really work as a mirror to Buffy Summers either (because one thing the show is very consistent on is that Buffy Summers absolutely could not accidentally kill somebody and then shrug it off). A Faith who accidentally kills somebody and desperately tries to convince herself that this is fine and not her fault and she doesn't care anyway, going on to do much worse things as a result: that's much more narratively rich, to me.

But, listening to the episode commentary, it really does feel like this is a take on the character that the show stumbles into, rather than one which it consciously planned out in advance. If you watch Bad Girls and think Faith really doesn't care about having killed a man, then ... well, I still think your interpretation is kind of boring, but you do have the writer on your side. The more interesting and more sympathetic reading does seem to more luck than judgment on the writers part.

(On the other hand, if you watch Amends and think Faith really was invited to a "big party" for Christmas then I'm afraid you're on your own.)

[certified-anakinfucker]

Hee hoo 13 and MIZ

(send me a spotty wap number + char and i'll do a drabble abt it)

13 - Kaisarion | HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME EXPERIENCE EMOTION and hi welcome to me and my bullshit writing style

It is the sound of another deadline Whistling past your ears It is the sight of a million regrets Mounting over years It is the words that were never spoken That echoes through the times It is the smell of the burning temples Swept away by rhymes

words under the cut bc i dont know how long this will be. this is definitely not a drabble actually :] fox + griffin + nocte belong to @purgetrooperfox fuck you hes leos oc now howler belongs to @friedennic finch + sphynx belong to @flutenoises miz + fault + briller + matchmaker are mine, unfortunately serval and coffee belong to @keys-to-the-stars

It is the sound of another deadline Whistling past your ears

Deadlines.

Those were known well, he'd like to think.

When he stood there, watching the sea of people converge and boil, hearing the cries for change turn to screams of outrage. It was always like this, and maybe if he'd had remembered when that paperwork was supposed to be done..

He wouldn't be looking at these natborns standing in a narrow walkway, waving their pushback. What sort of deadline was he thinking about, anyway? The sort that restrain him to his office, hold him back and back and back and put words in his brain that aren't his but demand his agreement?

Or are these deadlines the sort -

Someone fired a blaster. Miz, who stood ever still, only watched the golden line of energy whiz past his head and impact a pipe some meters away. Would that wake him up? Convince him?

These were the kind of deadlines that arose when he crossed a boundary that no one warned him of until he took his first steps on Coruscant. Being hated for being made with their money, and them not being able to say they wished you were never created. No, not born. Created. And their only way of rectifying that, was to do it themselves.

When they took up arms and murdered anyone who looked the same, looked the same in Miz's way, and they gloated. It was hard to find anyone who was remorseful for what they'd done because in the end the punishment was nothing more than a slap on the back of the hand and a disappointed look. Being told that they were costing the Republic money. Yes, both parties get reprimanded. One for killing and the other for being stupid enough to get killed. What's the point in trying to enjoy having a moment away from the war when people bring war to the bars, to the streets, to doorsteps out of the way.

They'd been quite successful this month.

It is the sight of a million regrets Mounting over years

Poor Fox, with what he had to go through. There was an ounce of regret when Miz hit 'send' on his datapad. It didn't bode well with the doom that rushed over him.

It took hours for him to come back from that. He didn't know how long he'd been out of it then, only that the first thing he felt after coming down from his screams was .. strangled. He felt like he still couldn't breathe, couldn't go, couldn't stop. He can't, can he? Oh - but poor Fox. Fox who knew nothing, and was still being punished for it. Miz was being cruel, he knew, he knew this wasn't necessary. But wasn't it?

Fox couldn't sleep, he saw the bags under his eyes, his words that dripped with caf and obligation and no control but he's in charge. A contingency rule that goes nowhere. Fox wasn't eating either, he looked too gaunt in his armor and he sounded far away when he spoke.

Behind him came Howler. Towering over them in stature but it seemed she was just as debilitated. Silent. Watching. Cold. Protective. Ultimately, she'd been powerless, right? What happened to her? She had been taken with .. Finch, was his name now. Howler and Finch. Howler didn't seem to like Miz being around all that much - and well, now he was out of their way. Miz was no longer Coruscant Guard, NCIS was no longer Coruscant Guard.

But Finch was NCIS, and now he's separated them. He wasn't thinking about that. Fuck's sake he didn't even know Finch was Finch until he resurfaced just before the incident and now it too far in motion to offer him an out. Maybe during the restructuring, maybe.. maybe he could do something to make Howler hate him less and. He didn't know what Finch was thinking, only that he was.. he was. That's all. That is all he had the stomach to see in his requisition files. A man marked outside of the GAR and that's all.

Calls began rolling in once the restructuring began. He needed more troopers, more fodder for the cannons. That's all anyone ever saw it as. A familiar face for all the wrong reasons came to his holo. Long, pale blond hair pulled back into a ponytail, hard eyes and a scowl. Talks of being inconsiderate, of being indescribably stupid. Fuckin' intelligent. Miz tuned out most of what his batchmate was saying. Too used to the scathing remarks and the jabs and all of the insults under the Kaminoan storm that the limited holonet allowed them to find. It didn't matter.

Fault said yes in the end, to being part of an auxiliary branch that would provide Coruscant's services on the front lines, as it was obvious that this same behavior was not unique to Triple Zero. It was just condensed here. Miz began to wonder if his trust in his younger batchmate was still founded, but he knew no one better at detective work and sleuthing. It was what Fault was best at. Always had been.

When things were set into motion it really did make Miz proud. He swears there is pride tightening his chest and not mind-numbing .. there wasn't a word for what he felt. But he called it pride as two more recruits came in from Kamino, a sort of "rush order" that was filled anonymously. He didn't know the numbers of the clones that stepped off of the ship and stared blankly, angrily, in fear.

When he stood in the doorway to watch Serval perform their physicals.

Oh.

They had brand marks. Of course they did, they had the one that mirrored his own. In horrible places but. Those marks, those of Researcher Teano Na. They were malnourished and skittish and Miz blocked out the rest of the details because Miz vaguely remembers reading about this behavior in a datasave. Withdrawal, but worse than he could have imagined for any gods-forsaken reason and of course it was happening to them. He didn't even know their names. They didn't have names last time he saw them. And they were still strangers to him. Matchmaker watched from the other end, and Briller was trying his best to keep Miz standing upright because he began a dangerous slouch.

A soft call sounded behind Miz.

Coffee. Coff'ika.

The only person here who didn't seem to either fear Miz or hate him or want nothing to do with him. So Miz gathered him into his arms and held him tight. He hoped he could think about the next move soon, because time was ticking down from an unknown timepiece.

It is the words that were never spoken That echoes through the times

Yet it seemed to Miz that everyone else was getting fed up with how things were being run.

Soon after the split, Miz wasn't sure who he'd become. It was blurry, horribly bleak, but people told him he threatened. He yelled, he openly cried, he hid himself away for days and came back worse. Disheveled and hungry, not having slept enough.

One of the Corrie medics - no, he was their CMO - Nocte had taken the brunt of it. Threatened to keep him nose out from what doesn't add up, or he would be wiped as clean as the Senate floor. It wasn't a threat to be malicious, Miz was probably trying to look out for him. But considering Miz is taller, stronger than most stationed here. Older. More important as a Commander (at the time). It wouldn't come off as caring.

Weeks later, he found himself in a room with his batch. Everyone together for the first time since they were ripped apart.

Howler sitting so close to Finch, as if to shield him. Sphynx and Griffin, who'd apparently caused Miz to black out at one point, sat together. Fault sat alone. He looked angry. He was angry. Fox eyed everyone with the most bleary expression Miz had seen yet. Miz was hesitant to even sit down, but the door's locking mechanism informed him he had no choice. And so did Nocte, who remained in the room.

Nocte said something about having enough. He looked terrified, talking to his superiors like they would reprimand a shiny. When Miz tried to comfort him, there was no more than a useless sigh that left his chest. An apologetic glance that he even had to be involved. It would have been fine. Miz had it under control. He was going to cry.

Moments ticked by in silence only permeated by breathing, sniffling. No one wanted to speak up, because there was so much that each person knew that no one else could fathom.

Except for the one of them who'd gotten off easy: Fault.

And Fault's remarks were aimed at Miz.

And Howler's fist was aimed at Fault.

He was in the middle of his words, standing up and yelling and pointing at a Miz who wasn't even there to hear it, he was lost in himself and he was crying and he could hear it all. He only stopped when a shadow leaned over him, he asked what she wanted. And there was one swift movement punctuated by a sick cracking noise, then Fault was on the floor. And Miz was still crying. Fault held his jaw in terror and abject betrayal but Howler just turned around to grab her chair and move it closer to him.

Fox looked a little vindicated. Like he was adding this to his to-do list, that was steadily growing in his absence.

Because they were all wounded. Beyond compare, and yet that's all Miz could do. Say he was the one who got off easy because Fault said so. Because he was okay, he was fine, he was upright and he was okay and he was fine and he was sane and nothing bad ever happened to him. He was just wallowing in misery, he was miserable over nothing.

He needed to calm down.

It is the smell of the burning temples Swept away by rhymes

I don't know what to put here so pretend I hurt your feelings really bad because Miz.

[ofbiishops]

zendaya coleman & she/her/cis woman⸻ i saw bishop ripley coming through the trees. the 26 year old was fleeing from flagstaff, arizona when they came across novac, and have sought salvation within the motel of purgatory. bishop has been in town for a week and has been assigned as a cook to keep society running smoothly. no matter what, they will find something to fight for. ⸻ hay, she/her, 24, est. **finch's wanted connection.

hi everyone i'm hay <3 please met my trainwreck, bishop.

stats

full name: bishop renee ripley

hometown: flagstff, arizona

age: 26

sexuality: bisexual

occupation: cook

known family: finch ripley (twin sister)

THE BEFORE

you came out screaming, and that was perhaps the loudest you would ever be. all tiny and wiggling arms, not prepared for this brand new world. you missed the comfort of your mother's belly. you seemed to relax once your twin sister, finch was born. as long as she was close, you never found a reason to be so loud again.

the two of you grew up in between neighbors houses, seeing your parents for only a few glimpses. you followed your sister around, even though she was technically younger (maybe by 2 or 3 minutes). finch always had a friendly, welcoming aura to her. your aura was more like...grey. you tried to make friends and tried to be outgoing, but it never reall came easy to you. you quickly fell into her shadow, not that you minded in the least. you've always been shy and preferred to wait and watch in the background. at the very least you made friends in rain and raffe. with the three of them, there was never a need to branch out of your comfort zone again.

you were fiercely protective of your friends...maybe to a fault. you insisted to go everywhere with them. you never had much luck in romance, but you figured your time would come...one day. it wasn't like things could be worse.

THE AFTER

you and your friends decide to stay at a ski lodge, just a few miles from your home. it was supposed fun, relaxing, and filled with too much hot cocoa. but then everything changed. terrifying news began filling in, the sky filled with smoke. you knew deep down before checking that your parents were gone, still, by the time you could search them, they were already runners. you and finch had to kill them in the kitchen. the same kitchen were you once made lemonade with your mom.

you soon fell into a routine. for you, it was easy. you were never extremely social able, anyway. you became a cook and did your duties to help the community at the lodge. you kept a watchful eye on your sister, scared something may happen.

one day, finch, rain, and raffe decided to take the ski lift for a spin, to take a look at the outside world. you were invited, but you had more vegetables to chop, so you waved them on. you should have tagged along, or at least hugged your sister. that would be the last time you saw her-- or any of your friends .

one moment you're prepping dinner, the next, you're fighting for your life. a hoard of the infected invaded the sky lodge, taking out people you've gotten to know and trust. it was a blur, trying to get out of the kitchen and pack as many things as you could. you wanted to wait for finch, but there was no way of knowing how long she would be...or if she was coming back.

you waited for as long as you could, but you knew if you waited too long then you'd most likely get injured or die. with nothing to scrawl a note on or anything, you took a simple necklace from your sister's room and ran out of there.

the ski lodge was nearly in flames by the time you stopped running. it was cold and quickly approaching night time, but you had to keep moving. after who knows how many hours, you stumbled along an abandoned hunting lodge and passed out.

from then on, you kept moving. there was no point going back to the ski lodge. you weren't even sure you knew how to get back. you would have to surive on your own, but every breath felt like you were dying. you lost your twin, and your only friends.

for the next few months, you roamed around the united states, feeling lost. eventually you came into contact with someone-- max. they were surviving on their own, too. they had their own sad, sob story like the rest of us. you came to an uneasy truce after almost killing each other. you were both so scared. but over time, max began to heal your broken heart. you felt yourself start to trust them. you camped together, ate together, and traded stories together. you protected them and they protected you. you would be content if you had to spend the rest of your time with them.

was this the romance you were looking for all those years ago? is there even a place for romance anymore?

this week, you and max came to the city of novac. maybe now is the time to stop roaming. you haven't stopped running since that day at the ski lodge. maybe now it's time to settle down and try to live again.

OPEN TO ANY AND ALL PLOTS !

[rollforjackass]

some of my favorite underrated fictional friendships/potential/unexplored friendships, in no particular order

joss carter & anthony marconi - person of interest

the man HATES reese and tolerates finch but anthony genuinely likes carter and probably at least suspects what it takes for her to bend her principles and help elias

meanwhile carter doesn't trust him but she gets where he's coming from, understands the kind of loyalty that binds him and the love that fuels that fire

they come from the same school of 'put your money where your mouth is' and take no shit from blowhards, but at the same time they both have a habit of being blowhards themselves when they feel the need to state their authority. i'm sad we didn't get to see them interact more, i would have loved for them to butt heads over who's the toughest tough guy

benji dunn & ilsa faust - mission impossible

going from the banter in the car > "i misjudged you" > her betrayal > them working together seamlessly in fallout > her SLAMMING her spine against a table to get free & save his life is such an up-and-down progression of events, i just think their dynamic is neat

i feel like they both have a certain element of displacement and frustration in common: benji as a fiercely loyal not-particularly-violent friend in a field where betrayal and violence are like water and bread; ilsa as someone good at what she does who's forced to do it for all the wrong reasons. both british ex-pats, both a bit awkward in non-emergent social situations, both a bit like the side of ethan hunt that the other is most impressed by/worried will get him killed one day

also benji is entirely too forgiving even while he's verbally bitching up a storm, he jumped to "ilsa? OUR ilsa?" with a quickness in fallout given that the last time they saw each other she'd had orders to kill him. i think that would fucking gut her given that she's so used to being tossed out on her own for things that aren't even her fault

danny williams & kono kalakaua - hawaii five-0

they got along like a house on fire in s1, she gave him surfing lessons, their matching tempers & equally matching loyalty, plus his blatant concern for her during her whole s2 arc and their mutual protectiveness of each other

they both have such a big 'family' chip on their shoulder, what with danny being raised in a big loving family only to become a divorced single dad struggling to make ends meet for his daughter, and kono likewise being raised in a big tight-knit family that's all about duty and honor, only to watch them turn their backs on chin without a second glance when he's accused by IA without even wondering why someone also raised on duty and honor would forsake either

and as a result, they're both so defensive of who and what they care about, both quick and sharp with their words but also both careful to check in and make sure they're not doing real damage when they don't mean to

i can easily see them completing each other's sentences trying to get out of trouble for something they absolutely did and that's an A+ in my book

they're such sweet friends and they get so overshadowed by whatever homoerotic shit danny & steve have going on

alana bloom & will graham - nbc's hannibal

yes they were attracted to each other, yes it went sour when they expressed those feelings, but my GOD she is not the villainous seductress i keep seeing people characterize her as in their will/hannibal fics. it is possible for an mlm relationship to form in coexistence with a perceivably heteronormative relationship/overture without needing to be repulsed by the latter's presence, especially when the m/f characters both go on to be in explicitly and implicitly queer relationships. some people heard 'kissing alana bloom was a clutch for balance' and went 'she's a predator seeking to lure will away from hannibal' in what frankly feels like an EXTREMELY lesbophobic and biphobic manner

anyway as someone who is autistic, the presence of a character who was always willing to dictate what would usually be between-the-lines, openly telegraphed when she was considering dancing around a subject so that will could choose if he wanted to hear socially acceptable vaguery or direct communication at risk of offending, and refused to let a miscommunication sit any longer than she needed to be able to address it, was a breath of fresh fucking air and i loved that she was willing to adapt to will's preferred methods of communication instead of expecting him to adapt to hers

even in season 3, after everything has changed between them, after pushing each other away continuously, they're still able to sit on a couch and just chat about each other's families like nothing ever went wrong. by the end of the show, alana is still the only person who never tried to manipulate will into changing who he was, and she is still the only person will is ever completely honest with about how he's feeling (even in s2 when he's plotting murder in prison/honeytrapping hannibal & faking freddie's death, when it comes to how he's feeling, he never lies to her)

there's a definite power in a relationship founded on clarity in a show defined by the lies we tell, to ourselves and to others, in order to keep our person suits well-tailored

dr. mccoy & literally everybody in star trek tos

WE GET IT HE AND SPOCK ARGUE ALL THE TIME!!!! it's a wonderfully complex dynamic but there's so much else going on with him!!!!! he's always boiled down to the grumpy guy who has beef with spock (SIDE-EYE JJ ABRAMS SIDE FUCKING EYE) but his number 1 character trait is that he cares so goddamn much about everyone and everything that he can't dial it down At All, it's both his strength and his achilles heel

he and christine chapel are so precious to me, he's so kind and supportive of her crush on spock while also warning her to be realistic, they tease each other mercilessly, and there are no two people you want Less to be caught in a game of chicken with than them. there's an episode where they literally get into a screaming match bc mccoy is refusing to tell anybody that he's gravely ill & chapel refuses to leave him alone until kirk arrives & he can't back out any longer, and even then their fight ends with mccoy very softly reassuring her that he will do the right thing

mccoy and uhura have this playful chivalry routine going on where one of them turns on the charm and the other ups the ante and it is endlessly entertaining to me. also in the tholian web when they think kirk's dead & uhura freaks out after seeing his 'spirit' in her quarters and runs right into mccoy in the hallway, he catches her so carefully, tries to reassure her, and keeps her from running off in a panic, and then later in sickbay he helps her out of the bed and is so kind to her

mccoy and scotty being drinking buddies!!! the two most loud-mouthed combinations of curmudgeonly and boisterous alive just reveling in each other's casual company!!! and the way mccoy starts yelling at a literal killing machine after it hurts scotty & dismisses the fact, how rattled he looks when he thinks scotty is dead, ugh dude

we don't see a Whole lot of him with sulu and chekov, but the parts we do are darling. he and sulu are so tongue-in-cheek with each other, sulu demonstrates a complete trust in mccoy any time he's in sickbay, and i can't remember if we actually hear mccoy tease sulu about his plants, but i feel it in my bones that it happened and we run on vibes in this house. then there's him bantering with chekov about his 'russia invented everything' stories & teasing him when he clearly has a crush on an ensign in the apple, everything about spectre of the gun, mccoy adopted that boy the second he opened his mouth

all i'm saying is the Entire Crew banded together to save him and get him help in search for spock, sacrificing their jobs and cushy lives in the process, and they had good goddamn reasons for it!!! he's friends with literally everyone i need to see more of those dynamics at all times

[harleyacoincidence]

I was tagged by @the-down-upside-finch in a "15 Questions" game. The link to the post I was tagged in is here.

Tagging (with no pressure) @fire-but-ashes-too @aziz-reads @dyrewrites @firesmokeandashes @olivescales3 and anyone who wants to join!

To start, here are the 15 questions (in case anyone tagged wants to copy/paste and can't find the original post).

Are you named after anyone?

When was the last time you cried?

Do you have kids?

Do you use sarcasm?

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

What’s your eye colour?

Scary stories or happy endings?

Any special talents?

Where were you born?

What are your hobbies?

Do you have any pets?

What sports do you play/have played?

How tall are you?

Favourite subject in school?

Dream job?

For this, I will be using ol' reliable: Hadeon and Henriette from Tales of an Unfortunate Summoner. I miss their dynamic.

Are you named after anyone?

Henriette: Not that I can think of. My parents never even told me if they picked the name or my biological parents did. I like my name, though, so whoever picked it clearly has taste.

Hadeon: That's for sure. As for me, I hope to Satan I'm not named after anyone. Do you have any idea how awkward that would be for demons?

2. When was the last time you cried?

Henriette: I don't want to talk about it...

Hadeon: It may have been my fault. Anyway, demons don't cry.

3. Do you have kids?

Henriette: Nope.

Hadeon: Debatable.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Henriette: Never used it in my life.

Hadeon: Yeah, who'd use sarcasm? Such a dead aspect of language.

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Henriette: Probably their expression. It's easy to figure out how they're feeling based on that, and whether to approach them.

Hadeon: Their expression, body language, clothing, anything they're holding, and possible intentions.

Henriette: Jeez man, calm down.

Hadeon: You never know if you might need them later, or if they're holding a spray bottle of holy water.

Henriette: You've been sprayed with holy water? Like a cat?!

Hadeon: Not me specifically, but it's happened.

6. What's your eye colour?

Henriette: I'm putting the black piece of paper in front of my eyes from now on.

Hadeon: Yeah, that's confidential.

7. Scary stories or happy endings?

Henriette: I prefer happy endings, but there's nothing wrong with a good ghost story!

Hadeon: People who like happy endings are soft.

Henriette: Hey!

8. Any special talents?

Henriette: I can do cartwheels, but that's not really special.

Hadeon: Have you seen me do cartwheels?

Henriette: Nope.

Hadeon: So, it is special. As for me, I can summon a decent ride, among other things, but it's not your business to know my limitations.

9. Where were you born?

Henriette: In a hospital, obviously.

Hadeon: In Hell, as far as I know.

10. What are your hobbies?

Henriette: I enjoy writing short stories and going for walks! ...Are walks considered hobbies...?

Hadeon: Murder.

Henriette: Hadeon!

Hadeon: And looking after this one. She's a handful.

Henriette: If you keep making fun of me in front of other people, I'm going to envision you as a knockoff Ronald MacDonald.

11. Do you have any pets?

Henriette: No, but I wish I did, even just something like a beta fish. They're so pretty.

Hadeon: Pets are out of the question when you're a demon.

12. What sports do you play or have played?

Henriette: I used to do badminton and baseball!

Hadeon: Ew, sports.

13. How tall are you?

Henriette: I'm 5'4", but don't tell anybody.

Hadeon: Taller than some people I could mention.

Henriette: He's 6'8" and stuck up because he thinks that being physically above people equates to being more important than them!

Hadeon: HEY-

14. Favourite subject in school?

Henriette: English!

Hadeon: Her Geography class was awesome, but I prefer Demon 102 - How to Summon Fellow Demons. Yes, there was demon school. No, I'm not answering any more questions about it. We don't talk about our assignments there.

15. Dream job?

Henriette: Hmm, maybe a director or an author!

Hadeon: King of Hell, or President of some country.

Henriette: Willow's taste in videos is really affecting you, isnt it?

[oflowtides]

⸻ WYATT OLEFF. HE/HIM / have you ever heard of NARROW by mayday parade? it describes ADRIAN FINCH to a tee! the twenty year old STUDENT AT RHODE ISLAND UNIVERSITY was spotted walking down the beach - do you know them? would you say HE is more trenchant or more QUICK WITTED instead? anyway, they remind me of falling asleep while watching a live stream, deep embarrassment over your parents that never quite fades away, slow emotional transformations and always hitting the snooze button, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

Adrian was a boy born to two teenage parents who maybe had the best intentions at heart, but he rarely saw it that way. He didn't remember his mom very well - he wasn't that old when she left, and Caspian did everything he could to wipe any evidence of his ex wife from their lives, but there were a few photos he kept tucked into the back of one of his drawers. He didn't think the fact that she wanted a life without them would ever stop hurting, and he couldn't stop thinking that it was his fault.

He was an angry boy, even from the start. He fought frequently with his dad, and Caspian could hardly blame him, but it was tiring. It was often a quiet anger, simmering all day before he got home from school and blew up at the most innocent question, locking himself in his room and refusing to come out. A lot of this stemmed from the fact that Adrian had asked why other kids who's parents were divorced split time between houses - and Caspian had to gently explain that his mother gave up physical custody of him and that it wasn't required. The devastation started as anger, but after a few years it fizzled out to soft sobs and late nights crawling into bed with his dad, the one person he knew would never leave him.

It's not that Adrian was purposefully sabotaging his dad's dating life (except he absolutely was). A snarky kid wasn't exactly anyone's idea of a fun time, and Adrian may or may not play it up any time he thought that someone wouldn't be a good match, but he'd never admit that. Clarice was different though, and he absolutely adored her. She was the one thing he'd say his dad actually got right, himself notwithstanding. Most of the anger had melted away when Clarice came into his life through years of therapy and long talks with Caspian about his mom and what happened and why they had him if she just was going to leave (it's a very long story and not what anyone would think was going to happen).

Things were starting to look up after Clarice and Caspian got married - until suddenly, Adrian's mom had a huge problem with Clarice trying to legally adopt him and decided to make problems. Adrian always had a very dry and sarcastic nature about him, but this completely uprooted his life, and his old, angry tendencies started poking out again. Stacy seemed hellbent on making this process as drawn out and difficult as possible, and it was the first time Adrian had seen his mother in at least ten years. It was awful, and the anger and sadness made what felt like a permanent home in his chest.

The process did get resolved - and Adrian slowly but surely went back to his old self, but it was clear some old wounds had bee ripped open again. Why hadn't she cared at all until now, when suddenly someone else did? It kept him up at night, but at least both his dad and his new mom were patient with him as long as he wasn't being too snarky.

Adrian still had a tendency to get a little mean, but life has felt more stable and comfortable than it has for a very long time. Sometimes it seems like his eyes will get stuck in a permanent eyeroll, but at this point, it's practically a love language for him. It's not that easy for him to let people in as much as he used to, but he's still fairly popular amongst his peers for his quick wit and drivers license.

[bouwrites]

And Your Bird Can Sing: Chapter 8

Step 4-1

First, Previous, Next.

Ao3.

Story under read-more.

As they get older, Derek only grows busier. Still, he sees Jamie, Cove, and Ryer when he can, and he stays in contact even when he can’t.

After the summer they spend together, all the parents do follow through on the process of reporting Ryer’s parents for abuse. The process is unfortunately slow, and the agency that deals with that kind of thing has to investigate, but by the new year Ryer is removed from the Finch home for his own safety.

Not long after that, the Lasts get approval to serve as foster parents and take Ryer in. It’s a complicated affair that most of the kids don’t know much about, but even though they do manage to get him away from his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Finch never lose parental rights, and fight constantly for Ryer to return to them.

Seeing the struggle he causes, and still uncomfortable in his new home, Ryer begins working not long after he moves in with the Lasts, offering services as an instrumentalist. It’s during this time that he meets Mathias in person, and the rest of the band Archetype, who often commissions him for tracks to back their own music, or to hop into the studio with them to record live.

When he finishes high school, Ryer uses the money he saves throughout his teenage years and the business he’s built thus far to move into a small apartment in Prism Vista City and attend a local community college.

When it’s Derek’s time to find a college, he attends an out-of-state one on a sports scholarship, and it gets even harder to see his friends.

That’s why, when he finally returns to Prism Vista City to help his dad with his business and figure out his own career prospects, he’s so ecstatic that Jamie visits. Even if it’s only three days, it’s three days of just him and one of his best friends that he doesn’t see almost at all for four years.

And Ryer even longer.

In fact, it’s as Jamie gets ready to leave that he reminds Derek of that very thing. Jamie is unusually quiet, pensively clutching his old, tattered suitcase and not-so-subtly eyeing his phone.

“Something wrong?” Derek asks. They’ll be seeing each other again soon. Jamie is resolved to move back to Sunset Bird, and even if he doesn’t move soon, he’ll be back to visit again near the end of summer along with Cove this time.

But Jamie isn’t thinking about Cove, or Derek. He sighs, frowning. “I’m so glad Liz was able to make it, but… Ryer never came back. He was supposed to be here two days ago.”

Ah. Derek rubs his neck. “They stopped in Vegas. He said they’d managed to book a show there last minute and decided to go for it since it was on the way back anyway, so they’re postponed until Tuesday.”

“Yeah…” Jamie sighs. “I know. I’m happy for him and all, I just… Ever since he moved out, I’ve hardly seen him. And part of that’s my fault since I moved so far away for college, but… I was really hoping he’d be in town.”

“Hey,” Derek says gently. He takes Jamie by the shoulders. “You’ll be moving back soon, and he’s not going to be going on tour again for a while at least. You’ll have plenty of time to catch up. Just- soon.”

That pulls a smile from Jamie. “Soon,” he echoes. “Yeah. You’re right! We’ll be seeing each other again in no time! That goes for you, too. I’ll see you again soon, so wait for me, alright?”

Derek laughs. “Always. I’ll be here.”

“And when are you finally going to ask him out?” Jamie teases. Derek’s face pinks. “I mean, he’s off traveling with Archetype right now. Think about the groupies! If you don’t get on that, you might lose your chance! People are probably throwing themselves at the super-cool musician!”

“So you want me to be one of them?”

“I want you to finally be my step-brother! Then we can all finally be official family!”

Officially, Ryer was only Jamie’s foster brother and now that he’s an adult has absolutely zero legal ties to the Lasts. So, marrying Ryer won’t make Derek and Jamie step-brothers anyway. Jamie doesn’t care. Derek doesn’t blame him, though. Living under the same roof, cared for by the same parents, even if it’s only for a few years, it’s not at all surprising that Jamie considers Ryer his brother.

(Liz feels the same way. When Derek brings her to the city for Jamie’s visit, she asks after Ryer as well, but though Derek does reach out to him, Ryer just informs him about the extension of their tour. There’s no way he can make it back to the city before Jamie leaves.)

The sour note hanging over it all is that Derek thinks Jamie is probably right about the groupies. Ryer isn’t the front man or anything. It’s technically Archetype’s tour, and Ryer is along as a hired instrumentalist, not even technically part of the band, and to occasionally perform as part of a pre-show.

But Ryer has a close relationship with Archetype. Even though their music is quite different, with Archetype generally having a metal-leaning rock sound and Ryer as a soloist prefers folkier tunes, they work together, collaborate, and mention each other publicly often enough that most people aware of one knows of the other.

Archetype’s big break coincides, therefore, with a rise in Ryer’s popularity as well, and now that Archetype is relatively well known, at least within their genre, Ryer is undeniably successful, even if he’s not some superstar.

Actually, it’s a collaboration, one of Archetype’s songs that feature Ryer as a singer rather than just an instrumentalist, that hits the charts and gives them their big break. So, even though it’s Archetype’s song, technically, Ryer’s name is right there in the title.

Derek still remembers how shocked – and proud – he was the very first time he walks through the supermarket and suddenly hears Ryer’s voice on the radio.

Ryer’s not a household name or anything, but he’s successful, especially for how young he is. Palling with the more established band in Archetype really gives him a boost. He is certainly popular, and cool and handsome and mysterious (mostly shy) enough to have ravenous groupies on a tour like this. It twists his gut, but Derek knows better than to let something like that bother him. It’s not like he ever finds the nerve to actually ask Ryer out, even after ten years.

And their promise… well, it’s dependent on Ryer not finding someone else of his own accord. It’d be dishonest to get in the way of that, and more than that, Derek will he happy enough so long as his friend ends up happy, too.

“Come on, Derek,” says Jamie teasingly. “You know you’ve always wanted another brother. And I’ll even throw in a sister to sweeten the deal for you.”

Derek snorts. “I have more than enough brothers, thanks. They’re already little punks. I don’t need a third one on top of that. Liz, though… I might be able to handle a big sister.”

Jamie gasps in mock offense. “Betrayed by my best friend! For my own sister!”

“Seriously, though,” Derek snickers. “Try tying down Cove before you worry about us all being family. Even if I do marry Ryer. If you don’t get married we’re still a man down.”

“Hey, at least we’re dating. Besides, I’m so past done just waiting for him to put together my very obvious hints.” Jamie rolls his eyes. “He’ll literally never notice. I’ll ask him when the time is right. With the move and all that, though, it’s better to wait until we’re more established. Not just together, but… you know… in Sunset Bird. Or maybe the city, I don’t know yet. I’ll talk it over with Cove.”

Jamie huffs. “You, though…”

Derek rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” The truth is the date that time is up on their deal is rapidly approaching. And Derek…

Just three days ago, he would probably panic and wait silently, then awkwardly try to avoid Ryer and forget all about that stupid, childish agreement. Never bring it up, never put any pressure on Ryer to make good on it.

But he’s done with that. He’s done letting opportunities pass him by. Sure, he’s not going to hold Ryer to a deal he makes ten years ago, but this is a chance that Derek is going to grab by the horns.

When Ryer returns from his tour, Derek is going to talk to him about it. He’s going to give Ryer every chance to back out without a fuss if he doesn’t want to be with Derek like that, but he’s not going to be the one to push this chance away.

“Don’t worry,” Derek says. “I’ll talk to him about it soon.”

Jamie blinks. “Wait, really? You know I was just teasing, right?”

Derek laughs. “I know. But… I’m done waiting. I can’t put this off any longer.” And time is up, anyway. Even if Derek wants to, it’s sort of an unspoken part of their deal that asking each other out is a bad idea. The deal is supposed to give them time, and cutting that time short ruins the whole idea of it.

But Derek doesn’t care anymore. He’s tired of holding back. No more waiting to be good enough. No more moving the goalposts. And this close to the ten-year mark, he thinks he’s okay on disrespecting the deal, anyway.

Jamie still doesn’t know about the deal. Derek doesn’t tell a soul about it, and the very idea of Ryer doing so is… hilariously unlikely. So, he’s pretty sure that he and Ryer are still the only ones with any idea that the deal exists.

With that in mind, it is a little surprising for Jamie that it takes Derek this long. Or maybe not, considering everything that happens during this visit of his. And the better part of five years that they barely see each other.

Actually, even with hindsight, Derek thinks now is really the better time to be doing this. A lot of their separation before college is self-inflicted, which Derek is still angry with himself about, but he doesn’t regret his college years or choices at all, so that time of being in long distance is still there.

Or, at least, he doesn’t regret going to college, anyway. The whole sports thing falling through and turning all his effort for more than ten years into little more than a waste of time is… definitely still frustrating. But going out of state to college, making his life on his own for the first time in that environment, even the people he befriends and the team he plays with… he doesn’t regret any of it.

“That’s the spirit,” says Jamie. He gently squeezes Derek’s shoulder. “I know you can do it. And I expect you to call me as soon as he agrees to a date.”

Derek blushes. “We don’t know that he will. We don’t even know if he likes guys.” Derek knows he considers it. Ten years ago. And has some kind of feelings for Derek at that time. But it’s been a long time since then, and Ryer never brings up the topic ever again.

That makes Jamie hesitate. He sighs. “As much as I’d like to say, ‘I’m his brother; I know he definitely likes you back’ I… He’s always been kind of closed off from me. I think it actually got worse when moms started fostering him. You’d think he’d be comfortable sharing that much with us. I mean… moms, plus I’m dating a guy. But… the truth is he hardly talks to us about anything. There was never any chance he’d tell us.”

Derek’s heart melts because Jamie actually lets the hurt onto his face. It’s a long-standing complaint from Jamie, that from the moment Ryer enters the Last home he seems to act like he’d rather be anywhere but. Like he avoids bonding with them any more than strictly necessary. Avoids spending any unnecessary time with them, even.

And from what Derek can tell, he does. Ryer is always busy when the Lasts come around. Jamie is so happy to have a brother, foster or not, especially one he already likes so much, but Ryer actually puts distance between them once their status is confirmed.

And since he moves out… well, Derek isn’t around much, either, but he doesn’t ever hear about Ryer visiting, or even allowing them to visit, and he lives in just the neighboring city. In Jamie’s words, Ryer stays the closest to home of any of them, but he feels the furthest away.

“I’ll let him know you miss him,” Derek says. It’s weak, a pittance of an offer, but all he has to cheer Jamie up with.

It’s enough. Jamie straightens, sighs, and shakes his head, casting away the mood. “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll be waiting for your call. Whichever way it goes. But… I do think you’ve got a good chance.”

Derek sure hopes so.

“I need to go,” Jamie says quietly. “God, I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Jamie,” Derek says just as softly, stepping forward to hug his best friend. “Have a good flight. And I’ll definitely call you as soon as I have news.”

Jamie’s arms wrap tight around Derek’s ribs. “Can’t wait,” he says. “I’ll text you when I land, too.”

“And when you get back to your apartment.”

Jamie snickers into Derek’s chest. “And when I get back to my apartment.”

Reluctantly, they peel apart. Jamie takes a deep breath. “Alright. Time’s up. Until next time, Derek. See you later.”

Derek stands there, watching Jamie turn and walk away, consoling himself with the knowledge that Jamie will be back soon, and eventually for good.

And once he’s out of sight… Derek finally lets out the breath he’s holding and slowly shuffles away.

He stuffs his hands into the kangaroo pocket on his shirt and trails his eyes on the ground. He’s all alone again. It’s nice having someone else in his apartment. Having a roommate. And Derek knows that it’s a temporary thing and that even when Jamie comes back he’s going to be getting his own place with Cove, as he should, but…

Derek still misses having someone just down the hall. Someone to put away groceries with, or to leave a note for when he goes out early in the morning.

All the little things that only happen when cohabiting with someone else that remind Derek of all the times he does those exact same things with, or for, his family.

Now that Jamie is gone, Derek’s apartment feels so much lonelier.

And it’s a lonely few days indeed. There’s not much but the mundanity of everyday life and quiet anticipation for what he plans to do once Ryer is back.

Derek takes advantage of the time to plan, because of course he does, but he’s still not exceptionally confident. It’s a hard thing to do, to put one’s heart out there, but Derek finally feels strong enough to do it.

Plus… it’s a little embarrassing. It’s not like they lose contact or anything, but ten years is a long time to hold onto a crush. It’s just that from the start Derek always hopes that they’d run out of time and have to fall back on their deal. That’s why he proposes the deal in the first place. He’s long over his crush on Jamie, probably because that’s actually resolved.

With Ryer, though… one way or another, resolution is coming soon. Derek can finally move on, or get a boyfriend, depending. And that’s a good thing, because either way, Derek isn’t just watching life pass him by anymore.

Derek smiles at his smartphone, at Ryer’s contact there. He stamps down the fluttering in his gut and taps the call button.

“Yeah?”

It’s still strange being on the phone with Ryer. Hearing his music all the time means Derek hears Ryer’s voice all the time, so hearing him through the phone is at once too similar and oddly different. “Hey!” Derek chirps, summoning all his enthusiasm. “You’re getting back tomorrow, right?”

A soft hum. “Yeah, we’re actually already back in California. We should be back around four-ish.” Ryer sighs. “Last night on the road. It’s going to be weird being home again.”

“But I bet you won’t miss being surrounded by old people all the time.”

Ryer snickers. Distantly, a shout of, “I’m not old!”

“Sorry,” Ryer laughs. “Should’ve told you you’re on speaker.”

Oops. “Sorry!” Derek says, not really feeling sorry at all.

“Tell us how you really feel, you little punk!” Mathias shouts.

Ryer adds, “There’s no privacy here, anyway, so I didn’t think it’d matter. Sorry again for not telling you.”

“That’s alright,” Derek says quickly. Knowing there’s an audience does spike his nerves, but Archetype is cool. The worst that’ll happen is they’ll tease a little. And it’s not like Derek is actually asking him out right this moment. “It’s not a big deal. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

Derek grins. “Have you been eating properly? I bet you’ve been eating out a lot, haven’t you?”

Ryer makes a strange noise. “We’re not children, Derek,” he says, though it comes across amused. “Well, most of us. We have at least one responsible adult here.”

“Not you!” Mathias shouts.

“I mean Alex, obviously!” Ryer shouts back.

“Not me!” the somewhat less familiar voice of Archetype’s drummer, Alex, carries from somewhere further away.

Yeah, he says that, but he’s absolutely the band’s mom. Even Derek knows that much.

“Anyway,” Derek says. “I figure you can use a home-cooked meal. Call it a welcome home. Want to come to my place for dinner tomorrow? I’m sure you’re tired, too, so you’re welcome to crash here. I’ve got that extra bedroom.”

There’s a moment of silence, then, “That sounds great.” And there’s legitimate relief and gratitude in Ryer’s voice. Derek hums softly. As much as he knows Ryer loves being on this tour, it must be so exhausting. Coming home to a warm meal and a quiet place to sleep… is the least Derek can give him. “I’d love that.”

“Great!” Derek says. “I’ll see you then?”

“For sure.”

“Awesome. Well, that’s what I wanted to ask, so I’ll let you go. Good night!”

“Yeah, night.”

As Derek drops his phone, he can’t fight the grin spreading across his lips. He’s still absolutely terrified to bring up their deal and ask Ryer out for real, but he’s also ecstatic to have plans to finally see him in person again.

It takes him a while to fall asleep. His mind races with what to make tomorrow and what he needs to get to prepare. Nothing fancy, no need to go all out. He’ll have time for that if Ryer agrees to go on an actual date with him. Just something that he knows Ryer likes.

But in no time at all, tomorrow comes. Derek is excited all day for it, nervously cleaning and organizing and preparing even though he knows he doesn’t need to for Ryer of all people.

Then, in the early evening, a knock comes at his door.

Derek flings the thing open. He barely spares the time to confirm it’s Ryer in front of him before he throws his arms wide, grinning and inviting.

Ryer rolls his eyes. He adjusts his weathered backpack for just a moment before he steps into Derek’s space and accepts the hug.

They part. Ryer brushes the dangly bit of his hair out of his face – it’s still there, and is actually longer now, though Ryer can’t bring himself to let his hair get long enough that he can tie it back with the rest. (He can’t keep it tied up for long, since he never gets out of the habit of running his hand through it. He always ends up knocking any ties out of his hair by accident. But he does do so on occasion if he has reason to.)

“Long time no see,” Ryer says passively. “How’s everyone?”

“Everyone’s great!” Derek eagerly reports. “Come on in. Make yourself at home.” He vacates the doorway so that Ryer can obey, which he does graciously, dropping his bag and kicking off his shoes in the entryway and beelining for Derek’s couch.

Derek can only chuckle at him. He must be exhausted. “How’re you?” Derek asks.

Ryer lifts his head. It’s all there on his face. Not the kind of tiredness that comes from lack of sleep, but the kind that comes from a busy, busy day. Or many of them. Derek can’t even imagine being on the road for as long as Ryer is, and that’s not even counting the actual shows he participates in and helps set up.

But even with the tiredness, Ryer smiles. Content is the best word for it. Nothing less.

“Good,” Ryer answers simply. “I’m going to sleep for a week, but I’m good.”

“The tour was fun, then?”

“Oh, yeah. Tons. And I heard you had fun, too. Is Jamie still doing alright?”

Derek pauses in the kitchen, just for a moment. “Yeah, he’s good,” Derek says. “He was kind of sad that he missed you. Liz, too. She managed to visit for a day when Jamie was here.”

Ryer hums. “So, the Lasts were all back together? Good for them. Must’ve been nice.”

…Is Ryer actually ignorant, or…? It’s a hard thing for Derek to bring up, especially right now, but if Ryer isn’t just avoiding it and actually doesn’t realize how the Lasts feel about him…

“…Yeah,” Derek says carefully. “Though… it didn’t feel like… everyone.”

“Ah…” Ryer sighs. “Was Jamie upset?”

“A little,” Derek admits.

“Sorry. It really was just a last-minute opportunity,” Ryer mumbles. “I didn’t mean to miss Jamie’s visit.”

“He understands,” Derek says. “Don’t worry. It was a good opportunity. None of us would’ve wanted you to miss it.”

“Still,” Ryer says, “I should try to make it up to him. Hey… do you know what he’s doing on Saturday?”

Saturday? “Uh? I don’t think he’s doing anything? But he can’t come back so soon.”

“Nah, not to come back, but Archetype and I are planning a kind of… celebration? For finishing our tour. Since the tour couldn’t have happened without the fans, we thought it’d be appropriate to do a little livestream for everyone. Jamie could listen, if he has the time?”

Gathering the food up on the plates, Derek grins. “I think he would’ve listened anyway. What’re you doing? Just a concert, basically?”

Ryer grins, and it’s mischievous in a way that sets Derek’s heart. “No, we just did a whole bunch of those! You can find video of a lot of them. Nah, we’re going to record a kind of special cover album together.”

“Yeah? How’s that work?”

Ryer, seeing Derek with the plates, gets back up to join him at the counter, even taking one of the plates so Derek doesn’t have to serve it himself.

“Remember when we were kids and we’d go to the beach and sing around a campfire?” Ryer asks, smiling. “I was telling the others about that, and somewhere along the way we had the idea to do a sort of… campfire session. Go down to the beach, just us, some instruments – only things anyone could bring. A guitar, a ukulele, some kind of shaker, maybe? Things like that. Really strip down the music and have an acoustic session. Unedited, or very lightly. Just friends around a fire having fun. We think our fans would like that.”

“That sounds awesome,” Derek breathes. “I’ve always loved when you do that kind of thing.”

“A lot of people do.” Ryer shrugs. “Acoustic sessions are more… intimate. Mathias and I were even talking about doing a studio session with just us two. Really strip it all down. But Saturday is a celebration, so it’ll be the whole band just enjoying themselves.”

“What are you going to play?”

Ryer winks. “That’s a surprise. I picked half the setlist, Archetype agreed on the rest. Should be ten songs total. We’ll be going back and forth. Ironically, one of the ones I’m most excited about is one of their picks.”

“Really?” Derek leans in. “Come on, you got to tell me at least that one.”

Ryer grins. “I’ll give you two,” he says. “The one I’m super excited about is going to be mostly Mathias. You heard, Slow, Love, Slow by Nightwish?”

“I haven’t.”

“Honestly, Nightwish has such an incredible lineup, but that’s got to be one of my favorites. And then Mathias is taking advantage of this to do a duet with me that we’ve been teasing each other about for a while. That’s Battle Cries from The Amazing Devil.”

“Isn’t that a love song? With that old geezer?”

Ryer snorts. “Sort of? It’s sort of a breakup song. But our personalities are perfect for it, so… just be glad he didn’t choose Fair. And he’s not that old.”

Derek laughs. “Well, be sure you let Jamie know when you plan on streaming that. I’ll have to watch, too.”

“If you’re free, you’re welcome to come,” Ryer says casually, shrugging into his meal. “The whole stream should only be an hour – an hour and a half or so? We’ll just be hanging out for at least some time afterwards, and honestly, we’ll probably sing more, too, so you’re more than welcome to join.”

“I’d love to. That sounds like so much fun. That’s Saturday?”

“Mhm. Probably in the evening. Towards sunset, or even at night.”

Derek bites his lip, thinking hard. There’s still nearly a whole week until Saturday. He has Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday completely free… And he doesn’t think Ryer’s up to anything really except maybe rehearsal for this campfire session livestream.

“I’ll be there,” Derek says. “What are you up to in the meantime?”

“Not much,” Ryer admits, stretching languidly. “I’ve got to do some social media hyping, make sure everyone knows this campfire session is happening, but other than that it’s just the usual practice.”

“Then,” Derek says, “want to do something tomorrow?”

“Like what?”

Good question. Derek’s plan to go to the water park with Jamie falls through for the business luncheon for his dad, so he does still want to go sometime. Ah, but, “Well… You probably don’t want to go out and do some big thing since you just got back, so… we could settle in and watch Disney movies?”

“You want to have a lazy day in?” Ryer raises his brow.

“I can have a lazy day in if I want to,” Derek protests proudly.

“We’ll see about that. Sure, I’m down. Maybe I just shouldn’t leave tomorrow.”

Oh, please. In an effort to not sound desperate as all hell, Derek keeps that pleading thought to himself. Still, he rubs his neck awkwardly and bites his lip, wondering how to approach the next topic.

“By the way,” Derek says eventually, “Jamie reminded me of something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. This summer is… ten years since that first summer when we met.”

“Ten years, huh?” Ryer hums. It takes a second. Just one second where he turns his attention back to his food and takes another bite, then his eyes blow wide. He chokes down his mouthful, then stammers, “Wait… ten years?”

Now blushing, Derek slowly nods.

“Holy shit. You’re talking about… that, right?”

Again Derek nods.

Ryer runs a hand through his hair, then nervously tugs at the bandanna tied tight around his neck. “The deal…” he murmurs. “Shit, you’re actually still single?”

“…What?”

“How the hell are you still single?”

“Uh, Ryer?”

Ryer closes his eyes to measure a breath. “Sorry. No, I’m fine. Totally fine. I just… didn’t expect we’d actually end up here. I guess we should… talk about it?”

That would be for the best. “Yeah,” Derek says, releasing his own held breath. “I-”

“Hold on,” says Ryer suddenly, shifting in his seat to fully face Derek. All sincerity on his face. “Just- you don’t have to, you know. We were teenagers and… honestly pretty stupid when we made that deal. I’m not going to hold you to anything.”

Derek blinks, then he laughs. Loud and clear. “I was just about to say that to you!”

“Wha- huh?”

Swallowing down his nerves, Derek steels himself. “Actually, I want to say something first, if that’s alright.” Ryer tensely nods. Derek breathes in. “So… yeah, the deal was really stupid. I think that goes without saying now that we’re actual adults. But… I’m glad that we made it. I think we made it for the right reasons. I’m… kind of proud of little me. Even though I know he was just running away and buying time… he might’ve done it for stupid reasons, but it was the right thing to do at the time.”

“I agree,” Ryer says, surprising Derek. Ryer laughs a little weakly. “Again, I never thought we’d actually have to face up to the terms of the deal, but… putting a date there, even one so far away… respecting both of our time and our feelings… it put things into perspective for me. It made it easier. I think I told you once that where I grew up, and when, I guess – things have changed so much – things like two boys dating just… didn’t happen. I didn’t know it was an option. Then, even when I met the Lasts and started figuring all that out, even after I’d realized I’m attracted to guys, it still never occurred to me that it was an option for me, if that makes any sense.”

“That makes perfect sense.”

“So, yeah. I’m really glad we made that deal. I’d never had anyone… respect my feelings like that? I guess? And… and honestly… it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but… there were times throughout these ten years that I’ve thought… ‘Is this the kind of person that I want to stick Derek with?’ The deal sort of inspired me to be my favorite me. One I’d be proud to present to you when the day came like, ‘This is it. This is what was worth ten years.’ You know?”

Derek doesn’t know how to feel. Partly he’s so beyond flattered and flustered to hear Ryer admit all this, but also… he knows exactly what Ryer is saying. “Yeah,” Derek says. “I do. There were times that I thought the same. Knowing there was someone waiting for me inspired me to be better. To be good enough for you.” Derek might even have taken that too far, but regardless, he knows the feeling. “And, Ryer… what I really want to say is… I still like you. I never stopped. And teenage me passed the buck on this one – and I can respect that. I do think in hindsight it was a smart move, even though my reasons were stupid. But I’m not going to move the goalpost again.”

Derek breathes deeply and looks into Ryer’s dark eyes. “Our deal says that, at the end of the summer, we should get married. I say… forget the deal.”

Ryer’s eyes widen. Derek doesn’t give him time to express whatever flashes across his face, or even figure out whether it’s good or bad.

“Ryer Finch,” Derek says, forcing a smile, and feeling happy even beneath all his nerves, that he’s finally doing this, “with absolutely no deal, or pact, or obligation to do so… will you go out with me?”

Ryer sucks in a breath.

“I want…” Derek admits hesitantly. “I want you to choose me. Not to run out of time and end up with me. And I want you to be honest. I want you to choose what you’ll be happy with, not suffer through some attempt at something because of a deal. So…”

“Yeah.” Ryer sounds like he’s run a marathon. A little stronger, and with a surprise reappearance of his accent that he’s mostly rid of (and which, shamefully, kind of does things for Derek) he repeats, “Yeah, I, uh… yes. Honestly… I figured out my feelings a long time ago.” His eyes go everywhere but Derek. “Surprise! Kissing you back then definitely meant I liked you. Like you. Still, that is. Uh… Hm. I’m horrible at this.”

Derek laughs. “Does that mean tomorrow can be a date?”

Pink colors Ryer’s cheeks. “…Sure?”

Derek leans in closer, so his face is near Ryer’s. He might not ordinarily be so forward, but he’s learning to allow himself to do things he wants to, plus… Ryer is the one that crosses this line first. At least Derek will do it properly. He grins giddily, exuberant, and asks, “Does that mean I can kiss you?”

He feels an unreasonable burst of pride as he watches Ryer’s eyes dart down to his lips. “Yeah,” Ryer says, soft and quiet. “Please.”

Derek wastes no more time in doing what he wishes he’d been doing for the last ten years.

[manny-jacinto]

Not a reylo but I think the appeal is the ✨spice✨. Also people seem to like Adam Driver and Rey is sweet and easy to like so she's treated as a self insert ig but idk

i can.... try to get it but like.... wow kylo is truly not my cup of tea so i'm afraid i will never get behind it :/

i have one question though and it's: if john boyega had played kylo, would reylo would have been such a big thing?

if adam driver had played finn, what would have the fandom shipped?

[tendousthoughts]

Yo yo yo... god that cringy but anyway! I would like to request something that I saw on another blog. It’s when the s/o has a fight with the boys and after it the boys go to the bedroom or somewhere to be alone but when they come out they see that their s/o is gone. In reality they just went outside for a walk to clear their head but our precious boyos panic that they left them for good.

I hope I explained that well I’m pretty new to requesting and stuff but I really love what you’ve written so far on your blog🥺

HQ Boys Thinking Their S/O Left Them Pt. 1

Character(s) included: Sakusa & Iwaizumi

Warning(s): Foul language (cursing), flinching

Song of the day: Meteor Shower by Cavetown

A/N to ask writer: Heyo! Thanks for enjoying my content! I love this idea, thanks for sharing. If you were looking for a specific character(s) to be put in this prompt go ahead and shoot me a pm/dm, write another message in anon or non-anon, or just comment on this!

A/N: Heyo as you can see I’ve added a new section for people who are my ask box writers in answering too! I got some new rps but if anyone wants to chat! This prompt gave me a lot of space to work with and I’ve decided that it will always probably be a four part series as well or maybe five. I’m extremely sorry about the break I took. If you have any ideas what to call this please tell me lmao. If you have any requests please read my rules first! Sorry for my grammatical and spelling errors. Reblogs, follows, and likes are greatly appreciated!

Where to find all the parts!

Where to find all my content!

Sakusa

It was a one sided fight. As always. He was yelling and you just took it. It was your fault after all. You shouldn’t have touched his shit, but you did. So now you are here. Holding back your pathetic tears. A mouth full of words was pushing through your lips and soon they fell out. “Sometimes I wonder why you’re still with me..” you whisper, no longer able to push back your tears. “I mean I don’t know what you want from me anymore,” You mutter softly.

He sat their stunned for a moment, “Maybe I want to be alone, but fuck your so clingy and nosey.” He muttered softly. He looked up at you, disgust in his eyes. “You know sometimes I wonder what the hell happened to you at birth to make you this fucked up. We’re you dropped or something?” He screamed. His hands now balled up into fist. You’re scared. You’re not going to lie. As he steps forward you flinch and that brings him back to reality. Instead of saying something he backs off and slams the door. You sit there stunned.

“I’m sorry..” you whisper and leave, grabbing most of your stuff. What ever you can grab at that moment which happens to be your phone, keys, wallet, and jacket. You take a deep breath as you slip on your shoes and leave quietly. Locking the door after yourself.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

I’m sorry

Your thoughts were all over the place as you got into your car. Grabbing your phone you turn it off. Not wanting any calls or texts. Expecting none, but that just might hurt you more. You take a deep breath and decide to drive nowhere on a random freeway. You start the car and leave.

Hours passed when Sakusa finally came out of the room, “y/n..?” He whispered softly. Now missing you as he didn’t know what he was doing. He looked around and soon realized some of your stuff was gone, and so were you.

He bit his lip running to his room as he called you. “Pick up.. pick up.. pick up..” he whispered.

Heyo! You’ve happened to miss me! I’m sorryyy but I am probably hanging out with my amazing boyfriend. Please leave a message and I’ll call you back soon! Anyways gotta go. I’m going to get in trouble with my boss if he catches me on my phone.

He bit his lip hearing the voicemail. It’s funny, he had never heard it before. Maybe it was because he never called and it was always you. Or maybe because when he did you picked up immediately. Unknowingly tears start to roll down his face. He fucked up. He knows he fucked up.

He lays down on the bed you guys share and just holds your pillow close. Tears rolling down his cheek. He calls again but waits till he can say something. “Y/n.. I’m sorry.. Please pick up. I’m sorry.” He sniffles as his tears fall. “I didn’t mean any of it.. please..” he whimpered softly as he knew it was no use. He ended the call and just cried for a few hours.

When night came he decided not to eat. He wasn’t feeling good as he tried to call you again. Yet not to his surprise he heard the same voicemail. Tears welled up as he heard your soothing voice. He couldn’t believe he made you so scared that you flinched away from him. “Y/n.. baby.. please.. I’m sorry.. I miss you.. I know I sound stupid and you probably want some space.. b..but please..” he hung up. Throwing his phone as he hugged your pillow closer.

At 11 pm you finally make it back. Hoping he is sleeping as you walk in. But to your surprise you can hear soft cries and whimpers coming from the room you share. You bit your lip softly as you gently put your stuff down. Softly taking a deep breath, you gently knock.

“Ba.. Sakusa..” You bite your lip as a couple seconds later you can hear the sound of someone fall or something and then you’re greeted with a tight hug.

“I’m sorry.. I’m sorry.. I’m sorry..” he whimpered softly as he just held on to you. “Please don’t go.” Fear was heard clearly in his voice.

You bit your lip. “Baby.. I’m right here.. take a deep breath.. I’m dirty Sakusa you gotta let me go..” you whispered worried how he might react later.

“No..” he whispered softly as he held on tighter. “P..please no..” he was scared.

“Okay okay.. I’ve got you.. no leaving..” you smiled softly as you gently held him. “I’ve got you..” you muttered softly. You gently held him kissing his head. You take off your jacket and make your way to the bed you guys share. Gently sitting down and Sakusa followed.

He hugged on to you immediately as tears flood his eyes. “I’m sorry.. I don’t want you to leave me and stuff.. I didn’t mean any of it..” he whispered softly “I love you so much.” He muttered.

“I love you too baby..” you whispered softly playing with his curly dark hair. “I didn’t mean to worry you okay.. I’m sorry baby..” you mumble softly.

“It’s my fault.. I got angry and I started yelling and.. a..and I wanted to show you how mad I was.. and I started to scream at you and I said that I didn’t want you to be so clingy.. I didn’t mean that. I missed you and when I went to find you I couldn’t.. and it scared me and I know I fucked it. And I know I shouldn’t have done that. When I saw you finch I didn’t know.. I..I just thought about how terrible I was acting and stuff..” he whispered softly. “When I tried to call you.. you didn’t pick up and then I heard your voicemail.. and I don’t know I just..” he was crying into your chest as he held on.

“Shush.. I’ve got you.. I’m sorry baby.. I know.. it was my fault okay? You didn’t mean too. I touched your stuff and I didn’t think about how you would feel.” You whispered softly, kissing his head softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you.. and you know I wouldn’t ever just leave you without saying anything. I won’t do that to you..” you whispered as he closed his eyes and just held on. “I’ve got you and won’t let you go I promise..” you whispered softly while holding him.

“I love you..” he whispered softly as he looked up to you. Tears in his eyes. “I love you so much..” he whispered.

“I love you too darling..” you smile softly. Holding him till he falls asleep. Once he does you close your eyes and fall asleep too.

Iwaizumi

He got jealous easily. Everyone knew that. He was the type to act on his jealousy. Not only that, but he acted upon them in irrotational ways. So when he heard that you were hanging out with a coworker, it wasn't an extreme surprise that he made a huge deal about it. Starting an argument as soon as you get back.

"Just tell me who the fuck he is!" He screamed, his voice echoed in the hallway. You weren’t even inside yet and he was already acting as if he was going to kill someone.

"Can I even just come in?" you look up at him. You’re clearly annoyed which might just make him more upset.

"Oh okay just come inside! Would you like something to drink too?” He said sarcastically.“Oh wait you went and had coffee already with this 'coworker'!" He screamed as you pushed your way through the door.

When you turn to him the door is already shut and he is waiting for an answer. “It’s a coworker I don’t need to repeat myself, and I won’t. I’m not going to not hang out with people because you want me too!” You scream. Here’s the thing. Your so fucking sick and tired of him pushing you around. You used to take his shit but a month or two ago you started to respond. There’s no fucking reason for his shit.

“Ya you know what. Maybe I would be okay with it if it wasn’t taking up our time together!” He screamed and at this point nobody is really understanding what the other is saying.

“Our time? Our time?! How fucking dare you. You’re always at work! I don’t get a word out before you kick me out of our office!” You look at him in annoyance.

“My work is something I can’t just ignore! So I don’t understand why you keep bringing it up! Your fucking coworker can wait can’t they? I mean you knew I was off today! Did the whole fucking date just skim over your head?” He screamed. Now everything sorta just clicks.

“Wait ba-” but before you can finish he had already left the room. A few brief seconds pass by and you are met with the sound of a door slamming. “Fuck..” you muttered softly.

A few minutes go by and you come to the idea that he wants some time alone. You are just coming home, and are already ready to leave. So you slip on your shoes and leave. Locking the door after you head out to go get some for him, full of his favorite snacks and stuff. Knowing full well that wouldn’t fix it but maybe it could make him a bit happier.

When you get to your car you get a pop up from your reminders app. You feel a wave of tears. “Fuck,” you muttered throwing your phone to the next seat over as you start to drive.

It takes about half an hour for him to notice you’re not there anymore. He doesn’t hear your footsteps or anything as he gets up to check. After a moment or two he knows you left for sure. “Fucking shit. Misses our date and then leaves..” he muttered softly as he headed to the shared room.

You arrived getting a few things as you don’t think about anything other than how to make him happy.

After an hour or two more he bit his lip softly now a bit worried if you’re okay. But he doesn’t call waiting an hour before he does so.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

Hello! It seems like you have sadly missed me. I can call you back as soon as possible! Just please leave a message! Bye bye!

It takes him a moment before he opts just to hang up. When he does he releases a shaky breath.

An hour later you get back with some stuff gently placing the stuff down as you take off your jacket and shoes.

Iwaizumi hears you scrambling up and running over. A sigh of relief falls as he sees you standing there. “Thank god..” he muttered softly, walking up to you.

You look over unsure what to say as you feel his arms tightly wrap around you. “I’m.. I’m sorry Hajime…” you whispered softly as tears welled up. You hugged him tight as you felt terrible. “I’m sorry…” you whisper again.

“Hey it’s okay.. I know you didn’t mean to.. I just.. I was upset because it feels like sometimes when I do make time for you something happens.. like last time and shit. But when I don’t it always seems like you’re free and I thought we knew we were both open today and I woke up without you there and then I found out you were having coffee with someone and everything just started crashing down you know..?” He whispered softly.

“I know baby.. I know.. I’m sorry.” You whisper as you hear soft cries come from him. “I’ve got you.. okay? I promise next time I will remember.. I know I messed up okay? You didn’t deserve that..” you whispered as he kinda just stays quiet and holds on. “I got you some goodies baby…” you whisper.

“Please don’t leave like that again.. it made me worried..” he whispered now finally telling you. “I thought you left for good..” he muttered softly, holding you “you didn’t respond to my calls either..” he whispered softly.

“I’m sorry baby.. I won’t.. and you know I wouldn’t do that to you.. I love you too much for that okay?” You bit your lip as you listened “I didn’t see them.. I’ll check why later.. okay? I’m sorry,” you whisper and kiss his head holding him close. Soon enough he drags you to your shared bed to cuddle.

“I love you..” he whispered softly, holding on.

“I love you too Hajime,” you smiled softly, kissing him. Soon enough he fell asleep, the stress finally lifted off his shoulders. You were in his arms again. That’s all that mattered.

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