#anyways being this far into a wip / this close to ''and then some things were getting underway'' sure increases the odds of a finished proj

[unproduciblesmackdown]

hell yes my "deniably casual sexual encounter in taylor's apartment babeyyy" wip is over 7k words already and i haven't even gotten to the part where anyone's kissing yet. so far it's all In Effect taylor going "is there like, an energy here or is it just me" (there is) in this 7k< form via my classic move of providing wildly extensive introspection that Could be pared down a ton i'm sure but if i was thorough abt editing myself & my verbosity & taking thousands of words to say something, including the same things repeatedly in slightly different ways, writing anything would be all the more difficult / rarely manifested. playing to my strengths / weaknesses w/fiction out here like, see that last billions fic scene that's Supposed to be largely winston somewhat going in circles stuck in his head and also sexual activity. seizing the premise for this one like, taylor being all I'm Extra Pensive Atm But What If That Sets Me Up To Be More Spontaneous When I Go Back Into The Living Room And Quants Have Something Going On. i've triumphantly managed to get taylor out of the living room in the first place and now their being able to return any minute now as soon as i wrap up their thinking about how their quants are sure like special little guys (extraordinary) (least veil of neutrality; readily positive)

[lumi-nescentt]

Heaven Is A Place On Earth With You

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: slight sexual joke at some point

Words: 1.8k

Summary: The Max everyone knows is a lot different from the Max he is behind closed doors. That's even truer when he hasn't seen you in a while and all he wants is to spend time doing nothing with his girl.

A/N: I'm procrastinating for my finals so I'm going to try to finish all the WIP I currently have :) hope you like max being hopelessly in love bc that's what you're getting here

Max was known for being blunt, sometimes rough which on track made him almost unstoppable. However, the Max you knew was way different. He treated you with such care and delicacy, it was sickeningly sweet. From the moment you two had started dating, he had done his best to show you that he wasn't what the rest of the world portrayed him to be. That he was worthy of the affection you felt for him.

Slow mornings with Max were your favourite moments. He always woke up before you but he never dared to leave the bed before you wanted to. He didn’t particularly liked laying around but there was something about being close to you that made him want to stay there forever. You looked so peaceful cuddled up against him, he wouldn’t have dared to wake you up anyway. He much preferred admiring you until you woke up and he could finally talk to you.

When your eyes started fluttering awake, the first thing you were aware of was the arm around your waist. Max's hand was on your naked back, keeping you as close to him as possible. The weight of it was comforting and it was always the first thing you noticed when he came back late at night while you were already asleep, from races you couldn’t have gone to. You liked knowing that even when he was exhausted from all the travelling, he still took the time to nestle your body against his before falling asleep with you between his arms. 

As soon as he realised you were awake, Max started peppering the side of your face with kisses which made you giggle and look up at him. There was something really special about the look you gave your boyfriend when you were slowly coming back to reality that he loved. It always looked as if you were falling back in love with him all over again in a matter of seconds. You had the softest look on your face and as far as heart eyes went, yours were probably the most intense someone ever had until Max looked at you with the same intensity and his entire face lit up, his eyes twinkling with pure adoration before he broke the silence and finally spoke.

-" Good morning schatje" he greeted you with a kiss on your forehead

-" Hi Maxie" you mumbled, still sleepy

-" Did you sleep well ?"

-" I alway sleep well when you're here so yes. How about you ?"

-" Great, I had the best human heater next to me."

-" Do you have anything planned today ?"

-" Nope, I'm all yours. Did you want to do anything special ?"

-" Just wanted to stay with you."

-" Do you want me to make breakfast and then we can go walk on the beach ?"

-" That sounds good."

-" Lets go then." Max said, trying to stand up from the bed but you had moved your body half on top of him

-" Schatje, if you want breakfast you're gonna have to get off me."

-" I thought you liked me on top ?" you winked, making the Dutch man blush

-" I do but I also like you alive and well fed so hop off please."

With a groan, you turned on your side, liberating Max who stood up. He tried to convince you to follow him in the kitchen but you needed a few more minutes so after kissing your forehead, Max went to cook breakfast alone. He didn’t mind doing it on his own. Taking care of you when he was here was one of his favourite things to do just to see you smile at him and have you kiss his cheek as a thank you. It was all worth it for your reaction alone. 

Five minutes later, Max felt a pair of arms snake around his waist and your face pressing against his back. He still hadn’t put a shirt back on after sleeping in boxers all night. He never wore much to bed since you were always warm enough for him to sleep almost naked and not freeze. So when you pressed small kisses against his shoulder blades, he almost let go of the coffee cup he was holding, your breath tickling his skin. 

-“ Behave please, schatje.” Max smiled, patting your hands that were resting on his stomach

-“ ‘m not doing anything.” you answered, tightening your grip around him

-“ Not yet but I know you might try something so if you want to eat decent food please wait until I set everything on the table.” 

-“ Can’t promise anything.” Max laughed at your answer before going back to what he was doing. 

Since you had moved in with him, Max found out that he actually didn’t hate slowing down for a bit and enjoying the little things. He just never had someone he loved to do it with until you came along. Now, he loved just hanging around in the apartment, bodies dancing around each other in the kitchen when you were both doing your own thing but still enjoying each other’s presence. He found solace in doing the most mundane things with you. He wouldn’t dare to say it out loud but as long as you were together, everything felt like an adventure. 

Enjoying breakfast together while looking out the balcony was a great way to start the day according to him, maybe even his favourite. You were apparently in a good mood too judging by how playful you were being, stealing bits from his plate with a grin and teasingly nudging his shoulder with yours. If it had been anyone else, Max would have protested a little but there was not much he would get angry at you for so he let it slide, stealing something back for good measure. 

He could have completely forgotten about the walk on the beach he had promised if you hadn’t rushed to get ready as soon as you had finished eating. He followed you with a laugh, trying not to blush at the sight of you in a pretty sundress with your hair falling down your shoulders. You looked radiant with joy and it suited you all too well. Max was glad his actions made you feel this way. In fact, he wasn’t just glad, no. Max was proud to be able to make you happy in a way no one else did because if at first he hadn’t thought himself capable of fully giving you the love he thought you deserved, he now knew that you wanted whatever he was willing and capable of giving you. 

You were more than content with the amount of love you received from your boyfriend and you made sure to make it known and to return the attention because despite his tough exterior, you had been around the Dutchman for long enough to know that there was nothing that touched him more than being loved openly and freely, without conditions. 

The car ride to the beach was spent in comfortable silence, Max’s hand on your thigh as you looked out the window, feeling the wind caress your face. Max tried to steal a few glances your way while he drove but his eyes never stayed long. He was way too careful when he was the one responsible for your well-being. You had tried teasing him about it to make him relax but he was adamant that as your boyfriend, he had to make sure you were as safe as possible. 

You couldn’t really argue with that so you let him be, knowing that as soon as he’d be done driving, you’d be able to play around again. So the moment the car was finally parked, you were bolting out the door, screaming that the last one in the water would be a terrible loser. It didn’t take long for Max’s brain to compute but by the time he started running, you already had a good lead.

However, you hadn’t considered the fact your boyfriend was a literal athlete and that his cardio was considerably better than yours. Before you could even reach the water, Max had catched up to you and effortlessly picked you up, still going towards the sea with a grin on his face. 

-“ Please Max, put me down. Don’t throw me in.” you screeched as he kept jogging lightly

-“ You should have thought about that when you cheated, you little minx.” Max responded, poking your side with his finger as you laughed 

-“ But I had to, otherwise I had no chance of winning. You’re too quick for me, Mr. World Champion” 

-“ Flattery won’t get you anywhere now, schatje. It’s too late”. Max smirked before dropping you in the water, jumping right behind you as you swam further away, your boyfriend close behind

-“ I hate you so much.” you lied, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying your best to swim at the same time before Max wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing you even closer

-“ For the record, I might have let you win if you hadn’t cheated or made me watch you undress and run at the same time.” the Dutchman smiled, pecking your lips 

-“ Who said I lost ?” 

-“ You were the first one in the water, baby. That makes you the loser of your own game.” 

-“ Maybe it was my plan all along…”

-“ y/n, you’re the sorest loser I know. There’s no way you’d plan to lose.”

-“ Well, I don’t care. I’m in your arms right now and we’re at this beautiful empty beach. I intend to make the most of this situation I definitely planned for and kiss you until you get sick of it.”

-“ Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Max chuckled, his whole face lighting up “ We’re going to be here for a while then because I don’t think I could ever get tired of kissing you.”  

-“ Alright then, the first one to stop is a terrible loser.” you smiled with a toothy grin

-“ Schat… Are you sure you can handle another loss today ?” 

-“ Bring it on, lover boy. Less talking, more kissing.”

-“ You don’t have to ask me twice.” he mumbled before pressing his lips against yours, brushing your wet hair away from your face

Maybe you lost the first game but when a family arrived at the beach and their little boy somehow recognised your boyfriend from afar and practically screamed that Max Verstappen was here, Max had to let you go. He wasn’t a fan of PDA, even less when it was around fans but in that moment, he wished he was just to erase the smug grin on your face when he lost the stupid challenge you had set. 

Before heading over to see the boy, Max made sure to peck your lips. He bit your lower lip slightly, not missing the way your face flushed when he did before asking for a rematch when you were back home. You already loved how the day had started but now you were sure that the rest of it would be just as good, if not better. This was just another thing to add to the list of why being home together was your favourite place to be.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Lynn gives him a funny look a couple of times, for some reason. Billy hopes he’s not, like, being weird or getting in the way. He just thinks it’s kinda cool to watch somebody cook, and it’s Lynn’s first time, even, so–well, that’s kinda cool too. 

Maybe he should be taking pictures, actually, since it is Lynn’s first time cooking and he’s got a phone he could do it with now anyway, but Lynn might think that was weird? Like, baby pictures are usually of literal babies who don’t really have an opinion on being cooed over and stuff, that’s all. 

. . . well, it’s probably not too weird to take pictures once the food’s done, Billy figures, sneaking a speculative peek at the oven. People do that, right? That’s a thing people do. 

Even though it’s his first time cooking, Lynn definitely looks like he knows what he’s doing. Billy figures that makes sense, ‘cuz Lynn doesn’t walk or talk or move like he’s new to any of that either. He’s careful and deliberate about it, but not, like, really awkward about it. Like . . . it’s unfamiliar, maybe–not reflexive, maybe?–but Lynn clearly still knows how to do it all. 

So like–Cadmus taught him some stuff, at least, Billy allows grudgingly. A little bit. Definitely their priorities were stupid, though. 

No stories, even. 

Assholes. 

Lynn seasons the potatoes–mostly with the olive oil and garlic, but a bit of salt and pepper too–and then puts them in the oven. He gets the asparagus seasoned too–more olive oil and garlic–but doesn’t put it in the oven with the potatoes, just sets its pan aside and moves onto mixing up a little . . . sauce, Billy guesses? Like, kinda? The mustard and brown sugar and more garlic all went in it and not much else, but it looks like a sauce once Lynn’s done with it, which is also when Billy realizes he stopped helping him to just watch him and is immediately embarrassed. 

“Um, what next?” he asks quickly, glancing towards the recipe again. 

“The glaze goes on the salmon,” Lynn says. Okay, Billy thinks; not a sauce, then. Apparently not a sauce, anyway. Unless glazes are a kind of sauce? Billy doesn’t actually know, come to think, it’s never really come up before. 

. . . Solomon is really letting him down here, actually. Can the wisdom of Solomon not cook? 

Admittedly the wisdom of Solomon thinks of pottery when Billy thinks “glaze”, mostly, but– 

Focus. He’s focused. Definitely he’s focused. But also Lynn is already holding the little bowl of glaze for the salmon, so he’s not sure how to be, like–helpful or anything without being weird or pushy or getting in the way or anything and– 

Um. 

“Okay,” Billy says very awkwardly, hiding his hands behind his back and only wringing them a little while they’re back there. It’s fine, he figures. Lynn can’t see it, so yeah–it’s fine. 

. . . probably, anyway? Does Lynn have X-ray vision, or . . . ? Well, actually, does Lynn know if he has X-ray vision, even, or– 

Yeah. Um. Billy should probably, like, concentrate on dinner for right now. 

So he concentrates on dinner, which mostly means concentrating on following Lynn around the kitchen–it is such a big kitchen, geez–while also trying to stay out of his way. Lynn glazes the salmon, or maybe sauces it, and then sets it aside with the asparagus and starts washing the dishes they’ve used so far–well, the dishes he’s used, mostly, because Billy hasn’t done very much there, admittedly–and then Billy really doesn’t know what to do. He rereads the recipe a couple times, but he’s not actually sure how closely Lynn’s actually following it, he’s realizing? Like–he’s kind of following it, yeah, but not, like, exactly following it? 

Or maybe Billy just doesn’t understand recipes. Because, like, that might also be a thing? 

That’s probably a thing, yeah. 

“What’s a ‘tsssp’?” he asks curiously, frowning at the recipe. 

“. . . uh. You mean a teaspoon?” Lynn asks, looking up from the dishes with a frown of his own. 

“Maybe, I guess?” Billy squints at the page. The wisdom of Solomon, again, is not proving helpful. Like at all. 

Well, he guesses kings probably don’t cook, considering. And definitely they don’t cook in modern American measurements, if nothing else. 

“. . . it’s a teaspoon,” Lynn says, still frowning. He looks–weird, a little. 

“Um–sorry,” Billy says, a little worried about that. “You okay?” 

“Am I in trouble?” Lynn asks, his voice going sort of–tight, sort of.

“For wh–” Billy starts to ask in bemusement, and then realizes–oh. Duh. “You’re not in trouble. I’m not gonna get mad if you know stuff I don’t or, like, if you tell me you think I’m wrong about something. Especially if I am wrong about something. Which, yeah, um–I don’t know anything about cooking, so yeah, definitely I’m wrong about any cooking stuff. I don’t even know if a glaze and a sauce are the same thing or why you only put the potatoes in the oven?” 

“. . . potatoes take longer to cook,” Lynn says slowly, watching him warily as he says it. “Glazes go on while you’re cooking. Sauces go on after.” 

“Oh!” Billy says, brightening a little. “That’s cool, I didn’t know that! Uh–well, yeah, I guess I already said I didn’t know that, obviously, that’s–um. Cool.” 

“. . . sure,” Lynn says, staring blankly at him for a moment. Then he turns back to the dishes and goes back to washing them. Billy should probably be the one doing that, actually, since Lynn did pretty much all the cooking and all. And like, he’s like four days old, that’s really early to be letting him wash knives and stuff, even if he’s knifeproof and all. Like, it’s the principle of the thing and all.

[housethemd]

Behind Closed Doors

When Chase happened to mention he had to be out of his apartment for 24 hours due to windows being replaced, Wilson invites him to stay with himself and House. Chase gets to see a side of his boss few do.

Established married House/Wilson.

(This is the fic that got the most votes when I did a poll on which of my WIP people were most interested in.)

~~~~~~~~~~

Chase stood awkwardly outside the door of 221B, trying to convince himself to knock. It wasn’t too late to turn around, get a hotel room. Wilson had offered, nay, insisted that he stay with him and House for the night however.

Wilson was a nice guy. Far to nice to be married to House in Chase’s opinion, but the two seemed to make each other happy so he supposed he couldn’t judge. He doesn’t know what he’s so nervous of, he’s been at 221B before. He knows there’s no sex dungeon or large aggressive dog waiting on the other side. Maybe it’s that it’s his boss, that it’s House.

He closes his eyes, bites the bullet, and knocks. It takes long enough for someone to answer that Chase begins to wonder if this wasn’t some elaborate prank. While House is usually the one staging such things, it wouldn’t be unusual for Wilson to get involved. He’s about to turn around and leave when he hears the door unlock and it opens to reveal House himself standing on the other side.

“Um. Hi.” Chase says. He’d been hoping Wilson would answer the door.

“Wombat.” House replies.

House is dressed in one of his band t-shirts and a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts. His feet are bare and he’s leaning on the wall, his cane nowhere to be seen. They stand eye to eye for a few moments, neither speaking or moving, when a voice calls out from inside the apartment.

“Don’t just stand there, invite him in!” It’s Wilson’s voice, and it holds a tone of fond exasperation.

House doesn’t say anything, but turns around and limps into the apartment. Chase glances around, but ultimately follows him in. Given House’s lack shoes he opts to remove his own. He’s more comfortable that way anyway. He’s never understood why Americans wear their shoes at home.

House is sitting on the couch, and there is an American football game playing on the TV. The windows are open, letting in the slightly cool September breeze. He can smell something delicious coming from the kitchen where Wilson stands at the stove.

“You made it!” Wilson says when he sees Chase.

“Yeah, found the place alright.” Chase jokes.

He stands awkwardly for a moment, not sure where he’s supposed to be going or what he’s supposed to be doing. Should he be offering to help in the kitchen? He’s a little nervous to just sit down next to House. At work they’re comfortable around each other, hell the could go for a drink and it probably wouldn’t be awkward, but something about being in House’s domain makes him nervous.

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I’ll bring you a beer in a second.” Wilson tells him.

He does as he told, and sit on the opposite end of the couch to House, who doesn’t acknowledge him.

“You want another beer, Greg?” Wilson sticks his head out of the kitchen.

“Yeah.” House replies.

It’s strange hearing House called “Greg.” He shouldn’t be shocked, they are a married couple for God’s sake. Still, House is one of those people who seems like he only has one name - House.

Wilson comes out with two beers in hand. He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and what looks like one of House’s t-shirts. It strikes him as odd but he reminds himself again that they are married. Wilson hands the beers over the back of the couch. Chase makes a point to say thank you but House just sort of grunts, eyes never straying from the TV.

After a while Wilson appears again with two plates full of what looks like homemade Pad Thai. After placing them in front of the two of them he leaves and returns with his own plate, sitting down between them.

The food is delicious. They all dig in with reckless abandon and take turns making comments on the game. House makes scathing deductions about the players personal lives and Chase has no idea if he is serious or is just saying ridiculous and offensive things to make Wilson laugh.

“Stop stealing my chicken.” Wilson says without taking his eyes off the game.

House had been using his chopsticks to steal bits of chicken off the edge of Wilson’s plate.

“You barely gave me any.” House whined.

“I gave you plenty.” Wilson replied as if reasoning with a small child.

“Fine. But it tastes better when it’s yours.” House’s voice held a tone of flirtation which Chase took as his cue to go grab a beer from the fridge.

He felt lucky that Wilson didn’t seem to escalate the situation in an amorous direction, though when he was returning from the kitchen he did catch Wilson feeding House a piece of chicken from his own plate.

House and Wilson finished their food before he did, and they both took their plates out to the kitchen. Chase paid them no mind, until he heard House’s voice speaking in a low register.

“Dinner was extremely acceptable.” He said as he leaned on the kitchen island.

“Oh my, that’s almost a compliment.” Wilson replied, placing both hands on either side of House’s hips on the island, leaning into his space.

It was like watching a car crash, Chase thought as Wilson pressed a deep kiss to House’s mouth. He didn’t want to be watching his boss and his husband make out, yet he couldn’t quite look away. It was so odd, seeing them in this domestic light. While everyone at work knew they were married, they didn’t really engage in a lot of PDA.

“If you want to thank me for that extremely acceptable dinner, I can think of a way.” Wilson rasped when he pulled away from the kiss.

One of Wilson’s hands moved from it’s place by House’s hip, to grab a handful of his ass.

Chase immediately turned back to the game. That was more than he needed to know about the intimate dynamics of their marriage. He quickly finished his food, and excused himself to the bathroom. When he returned House was on the floor in front of the TV, pulling at something on the stand.

“Wilson!” He exclaimed, far louder than necessary given that Wilson was just in the kitchen.

“Yes, Darling?” Wilson came into the living room, hands on his hips and smirk on his face.

“Where are the cables for the PlayStation?”

Wilson’s eyes lit up, seeming quite pleased with himself. Chase wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was going on.

“It’s your night to do the dishes.” Wilson stated, still in his hands on hips position.

“Are you hard of hearing? I said where are the cords for the PlayStation.” House over emphasized, staring at Wilson with a Jack Nicholson level stare.

“And I’ll tell you where the cords for the PlayStation are, as soon as you’ve done the dishes.” Wilson mocked.

“You really think that will make me do the dishes? I’m a genius, you think I can’t just find the cords?” House argued.

“That’s exactly what I think. You can either spend hours searching for the cords, which you won’t find by the way, and then do the dishes or you can spend ten minutes doing the dishes now, then I’ll give you the cords, and you can be playing GTA before the sun goes down. But it’s up you, genius.”

Wilson looked exactly like the cat that got the canary as House used the coffee table to help push himself up off the floor, grumbling about how rude it was to make cripples do chores.

“I put the stool in front of the sink for you so you don’t have to stand!” Wilson called after him, before starting a ridiculous and frankly awkward looking dance of victory.

Twenty minutes later House limps back into the living room, declaring the dishes complete. Wilson goes as far as to inspect the kitchen, including opening the oven for some reason, before opening the cupboard under the sink and pulling out a blue bucket filled with cleaning supplies. Reaching his hand inside he produces the cords, handing them to House.

“There you go, have fun.” He says with a fond smile.

Chase is truthfully confused. Wilson cooked dinner, had his food stolen by House, at some point he took apart their PlayStation and hid the cords just to bribe House into doing a completely normal household task, and yet he seems completely unbothered. In fact he seems to be enjoying himself.

House, on the other hand, seems slightly less abrasive though he wouldn’t go as far as to call him caring. He doesn’t really know why the incredibly kind Wilson tolerates him as his spouse.

Once House has the PlayStation up and running Wilson brings them each another beer and together the three of them play a few rounds of Mario Kart. They are all competitive and while Chase never manages to beat House, he takes solace in the fact Wilson does.

“Would you guys mind if I went out for a run? I like going to this trail just outside town so I’ll be gone a couple hours.” Chase asks.

“Sure but don’t think you can you use our shower.” House says, getting up from the couch to hobble over to the piano bench.

“He’s joking. Of course you can go for your run and of course you can shower after.” Wilson shoots a look at House, who is staring innocently down at the keys of the instrument.

Chase changes in the bathroom, and when he returns to the living room Wilson curled up on the couch reading a book while House plays a quiet, gentle melody. It’s shockingly domestic and Chase puts on his shoes and slips out the door quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

When Chase returns from his run, Wilson is still sitting on the couch but now he’s watching a black and white film on TV. House is stretched out across the couch, right foot propped up on the arm, left foot tucked under his right knee, and his head in Wilson’s lap. He’s also snoring softly.

“Is he…” Chase trails off as he toes off his running shoes.

“Asleep? Yeah.” Wilson says, not turning from the TV.

Wilson’s fingers are in House’s hair. Just absentmindedly stroking as he watches his movie. They look very sweet, the two of them.

He walks as softly as possible to the kitchen for some water, opening the fridge gently.

“You don’t have to worry about being quiet. He’ll sleep until I wake him up.” Wilson says.

He’s not watching the movie now, he’s staring down at House’s sleeping form with that fond smile on his face again, like House is the most wonderful thing he’s ever seen. Chase can’t imagine what about the misanthropic doctor makes Wilson so happy.

As Chase passes behind the couch, heading for a shower, Wilson stops him.

“Hey, can you pass me the blanket that’s on the floor behind the couch? It’s usually over the back where I can reach it but I didn’t notice it had fallen.” He explains.

Chase grabs the blanket. It’s brown and fuzzy, very soft. He wonders how Wilson plans on getting himself under the blanket without suffocating House when Wilson tosses the blanket down the couch to cover House’s body. He isn’t totally successful though, the blanket falls at House’s knees, bunched up.

“Would you mind pulling it over him the rest of the way? When it’s on the back of the couch I can pull it down to cover him but my throwing skills need work.” Wilson says.

Chase does as he’s asked. The blanket is quite large and covers house from shoulders to feet quite easily. It occurs to him that what Wilson said implies this happens a lot - House snoozing on the couch using Wilson as a pillow.

“Thanks, he gets cold when he’s sleeping.”

“Does he usually fall asleep at 9pm?” Chase finds himself asking. Wilson chuckles.

“Sometimes. People tend to write it off, because of his other eccentricities, but he does have chronic pain. It can be pretty tiring.”

Chase momentarily feels bad. While House’s frequent Vicodin popping reminds them that House does experience pain, they tend to forget that the pills don’t make him pain free, they just keep him standing. Chase heads for the shower with this in mind.

When he’s towelling off he can hear Wilson in the other room talking to House.

“Greg, wake up.”

There is some unintelligible grumbling from House.

“I know Baby, come on. Chase is going to be out of the bathroom soon so you’ve got to get up.” Wilson’s voice is terribly gentle.

Chase runs the towel through his hair, and hears more caterwauling from House.

“You can bring the blanket with you, and I’ll still cuddle with you in the bedroom.”

Chase lets out a small laugh at that. He never would have pegged House as the cuddly type.

“My cane - it’s in the kitchen.”

The first actual words he’s heard from House. Chase is fully dressed and could walk out at any time, but he finds he doesn’t want too. He’s learned a little about them as a couple from watching them at home, but he’s curious about their interactions when he isn’t in the room.

“Just lean on me Baby.”

And Chase can’t imagine House willingly leaning on anyone to help him walk, yet the next sound he hears is the uneven gait of the two of them.

“Leg’s sore.” House says, their voices growing closer.

“You’ve just been laying down on the couch for nearly two hours, I’m not surprised. You’ve got some pills in the bedroom, we’ll get you your bedtime dose and it’ll feel a little better. I can massage it too.”

“Hmm, love you Jimmy.”

“I love you too, Greg.”

Chase is well and truly shocked. House leaning on Wilson to walk, admitting his leg is bothering him, saying ‘I love you’, it’s all so un-House like.

When he hears the door to the bedroom close, he finally leaves the bathroom to get the couch ready. The light above the stove has been left on, and he isn’t sure if it’s for his benefit or if they always leave it on.

As he arranges the bedding to his liking, and when he’s settled down he mulls over his experience with House and Wilson over the course of the evening.

He is reminded of a cat that used to live around the dumpsters near his school when he was young. It had been white at one time but it appeared more brown from the dirt the caked in it’s fur. It was a vicious thing, anytime you got anywhere neat it, it would hiss and arch it’s back. His friends liked to laugh at it, but one day after school he went back with some food for it. He felt sort of bad for the thing.

It became somewhat of a ritual and slowly the cat stopped hissing at him when he would bring the food, until one day he was able to touch it. Eventually it would roll over on it’s back and purr when he came to see it, but only if it was just him.

He tried to bring his friend to see the cat once, but despite him having food and it being only the two of them, the cat hissed and arched its back before disappearing behind the dumpster. His friend had laughed and claimed he knew that cat couldn’t like anyone. He went back after supper that night and sure enough the cat greeted him happily.

He remembers how special it made him feel, to know that cat was friendly only to him. Even if no one else would ever know, he did.

And he supposes that’s how Wilson feels about House.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

What are your thoughts on the relationship Buck has with Pepa and Isabel? (There is pretty much nothing of it in canon but me personally I think at the very least they like him for how much he loves his Diaz boys. )

And how well do you think Buck speaks/understands Spanish?

hi bestie, once again i am so sorry for neglecting your ask— i feel like i posted multiple little ask games (especially my wip one that i have had absolutely no time to work on any of them for the aks i got) and then immediately got bombarded by real life stress (i was working on two theatrical productions, as well as finishing my last semester of college) as well as fandom stress (all of the bts content that hasn’t proven to be exciting to me in any capacity) and then began to get a barrage of hate anons in my inbox that sent me into a nervous spiral so i am only just now getting to sit down and go through my inbox!

anyway, that long winded explanation out of the way, onto your ask!

I actually love the idea of Pepa and Abuela adopting Buck as their sobrino/nieto respectively because of how close he is with eddie and chris. i really wish we could have gotten to see more of abuela this season (i know ryan said at the beginning of s7 that there was a plotline involving abuela but then it got cut when tim decided to scrap 7b) and possibly see her view on buck and eddie’s relationship after buck came out… i hope though that we get to see more of them in s8, however, especially with chris being in texas, i’d love to see abuela take on a more central role in chris’s story this season, perhaps providing context to eddie and shannon’s relationship that eddie leaves out every time he romanticizes it to chris. I think it would also provide some interesting room to play with abuela and chris talking about buck’s role in chris and eddie’s lives, and possibly getting christopher to see what’s in front of all of them, and then having chris come back to tell them that he loves the family they’ve built and doesn’t want to lose it (which could also provide some angst for buddie if this happens after their feelings realization, and they both refrain from starting a relationship because they think chris doesn’t want that) which could provide a sort of gateway for pepa to swoop in and smack them both on the back of their heads. I know that wasn’t quite what you asked, but i think they have a lot of rook to showcase buck’s relationship with abuela and pepa onscreen, and i hope that it’s shown that he is considered one of their one, further cementing his role in eddie and chris’s lives

as far as buck speaking spanish, i’m sure he has to know some peruvian spanish from working in peru before moving to LA, but there are differences between peruvian spanishand mexican spanish as well as the familial slang that would come with the diazes, so i think buck would pick up bits and pieces of things said by the diazes, and could maybe carry a conversation, but i wouldn’t say he is fluent. i do think eddie/chris/abuela/pepa all pick on him for getting mixed up, or for his accent, even though for a pennsylvania native living in LA, his spanish isn’t terrible.

thank you for the ask! i’m sorry again that it took me so long to get around to it, and sorry that my answer for the first point is probably not quite what you were looking for, but i had a lot of fun thinking about how they could play with buck’s relationship w both abuela and pepa next season (though, i won’t hold my breath for that)

[purdledooturt]

drink break

Summary: Astarion didn't often run into Tav awake when he drank from her at night - not since the first time, anyway. But he can't say he doesn't enjoy it.

Note: I'm extremely grateful to the members of Cinnamontails's discord for their part in getting this out of WIP hell - it's so cool being surrounded by other creative people and there's something about it that pushes one to keep creating, so please come and join us! They also helped me come up with our fruit-based nickname for Astarion 🤠 [AO3 Link]

Tonight, Astarion was at peace.

He often took on first watch – he would take the time alone to hunt, get a break from the chatter of his companions, and he would read uninterrupted, winding down from a full day of travel or exploration or combat. It was the benefit of being an elf – he’d seen his companions running on less-than-ideal amounts of sleep, and their performance always suffered when they were poorly rested. Meanwhile he was free to hunt, crawl back into his tent, trance for four hours and be back to his usual perky self. He liked to lord the fact over Lae’zel, who begrudgingly agreed that being able to enter into a trance was a lot handier than needing to sleep – he cherished what wins he could have over her.

He had nowhere to be tonight – he had drained a bear the night before, spotting it sniffing around towards their camp chest which had just been restocked with supplies carefully catalogued by Gale. It wasn’t much of a challenge, and probably the closest he would have to a restaurant experience as a vampire, but the bear was extremely filling, and he didn’t want to be picky. He was feeling sated enough and didn’t really need to hunt, so he took the time to catch up on his reading while he sat watch, lounged on his carefully stacked pile of plush pillows at the entryway of his tent, enjoying the sounds of the forest and the mild breeze on his skin.

He greatly valued these moments. He occasionally wondered if this was how he would have spent his nights if he were still alive (minus the outdoor aspect of it). Often, he would look up at the sky and think about his old life at that wretched castle, and it would steel his resolve to never return. He prized his freedom, however temporary, and other than the occasional intrusions from his guardian, his mind was his own. His companions (tadpole included) made for far better company than his siblings. His companions listened to him and there was a friendly camaraderie that the surlier members of the group refused to acknowledge. They never told him to be silent, never tried to sabotage him, never told him he wasn’t good for anything but lies and seduction. They valued his input, and he, in turn, begrudgingly depended on them. It was the closest thing to friendship for him (although he couldn’t tell exactly what it was the stopped it from completely crossing over).

But what he appreciated the most was the ability to manage his own hunger. Gone were the days of mind-numbing starvation. Gone were the days where he fed on rats and bugs, getting what little sustenance he could from fetid and rotten blood. He was free to hunt as he pleased, though he stuck with animals as he’d been requested to, save for the times he got to bite into the necks of the less-friendly thinking creatures they encountered.

The most delicious of all, however, remained his first. Which reminded him —

Tav, their leader, had offered herself for a drink this morning, and he was waiting until she was well within her dreams before he wandered off to top himself up. While he didn’t explicitly need to feed, he always took her up on her offer as he couldn’t miss the opportunity to have some of her blood. Hers, for some reason, cleared up his mind the best.

He decided it was a good time to do so when Halsin woke up to take over – the two elves had an arrangement where they took turns to watch while the rest of their companions got their eight hours (or as close to it as they were afforded to). It worked out for everyone, and it meant Astarion would get his me-time guilt-free. He watched as the druid wandered towards the fire with blocks of wood and his beloved set of carving tools – he was in the process of creating little wooden trinkets for some of the party, after Shadowheart had requested he made her a little trinket of what animal he thought she would be if she were a druid. She got a little wooden goldfish the next day, which she carefully hung at the entryway of her tent, dangling like a sad, friendless mobile. She was so very pleased, smiling wider than usual as she cooed over the gift, and Astarion was surprised that the idea of being a forgetful fish didn’t offend the Sharran.

Neither of the elves said anything – they were both very good at keeping silent, not wanting to interrupt their companions while they slept. Astarion pulled himself up, leaving a folded note about camp chore allocation he’d been left one day as a bookmark. Wordlessly, he headed towards Tav’s tent as Halsin began carving away – tonight’s project seemed to be Karlach’s, and it looked to be a bear that looked more like Clive than an anatomically accurate one.

Astarion pushed past the flaps of the tent, careful not to let too much of the light from the campfire through. He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but he was a bit soft on Tav, wanting to make sure she got her rest and was inconvenienced as little as possible by his feeding on her and accepting her generosity. Normally he would find her sleeping peacefully, exhausted from the day’s travels, and he would sup just a bit generally as a dessert before he left for his bedroll feeling lighter and happier.

He blinked at the sight in front of him as he let the tent flap fall behind him, and the sliver of light that came through from the campfire shrunk into a line and then nothing. His dark vision meant he could see her clearly even without the light.

She was hunched over, in such a poor posture he had to actively bite his tongue to not comment on it. Her hair was showing signs of chaos – she always was a bit of a wriggler in her sleep, and so her hair often tangled from the back (or so he noticed – he also noticed it tangled worse when it was freshly washed, as was the case tonight). With one eye open and the other closed, she lifted a finger at him in a gesture that he took to mean as ‘hold on’, while she chugged down the contents of her waterskin.

She looked charming. Adorable in a very unruly, wild gremlin kind of way.

She popped the cork lid back on the skin, smacking the top of it with practiced precision. Keeping one eye closed, she began to lay back down on to her bedroll, her hand gesturing towards him with palms up, inviting. Tensing her core, she brushed the hair from her neck and pushed her hair up on to the pillow, making things easy for him to access. She closed her eyes.

“Are you awake?” he whispered, as he began to kneel alongside her. Was she… sleepwalking?  Was she conscious? He’d never run into her awake for feedings since they started their arrangement. She adjusted her position as she laid down, laying her entwined fingers together over her stomach like a princess in a coffin, ready to rest. It was a comical sight with the unruly bedhead looking like a nest-crown.

The eye closest to him fluttered open briefly. She muttered, “yes,” like a childish princess impatiently waiting for her true love’s kiss. He wanted to snort at the sight.

“Shall I come back another time, darling?” he asked, still keeping his voice low. He watched as she pursed her lips and let out a forceful sigh through her nose. It had been a while since he’d fed from her while she was awake, and while the first time went better than he expected he didn’t want things to be awkward given how intimate the whole experience tends to be.

“It’s fine,” she replied, muttering under her breath. She cleared her throat quietly. Her voice was a bit scratchy despite the water, and Astarion wondered if she was perhaps getting sick. Humans were always so susceptible to illness. He wondered if the ground was too cold for her despite the bedroll. Maybe the bedroll was too thin?

Ah – he really was soft on her. The others must not be allowed to know, but he tried to scan through his inventory in his mind. He may be able to spare her another blanket to tuck under her bedroll, just to stop the cold from seeping into her back. But he’d have to do it in a way that made her think she “made him” give it up.

He enjoyed teasing her – it was so easy when she was so gullible.

He began to position himself over her neck, like he often did when she was in deep sleep and lightly snoring. “Well, at least you’re not snoring this time.”

Her eyes popped open and her mouth fell slack in shock, and she smacked his chest lightly, though she tensed when she noticed that he had his arms over her like a makeshift cage. Why did everything about vampirism hinge on sensuality? “I don’t snore,” she argued. She was on the verge of pouting, staring up at him as he hovered over her. Her eyes looked so large and so round in the dark. He could stare at them forever.

“You convince yourself that, darling,” he said with a smirk, as he lowered his mouth towards her neck. He could hear her heartbeat speed up, thudding loud in the silence of the tent. Gods, teasing her was just so fun. Excitement made her blood taste a little different. He made sure to let his breath hover over her skin. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She tilted her head away to give him easier access to her neck, almost reflexively. He glanced at her from his periphery, noting the full pout and frown that marred her eyebrows. Petulantly, she snorted. “Absolutely not do I snore,” she whispered furiously, relacing her fingers together over her diaphragm. She closed her eyes again, but the small pout remained. It looked like it could be dispelled with a kiss, but he wasn’t about to test his luck.

He shushed her, enjoying the way she shivered from the base of her spine from the sensation. He knew a thing or two about appealing to someone without actually touching them. Breathily, he whispered, “Now, now – let’s be professional about this, darling.”

“Yes, let’s,” she said, quickly sparring against his flirting like she always did. Gods – he loved the sparring. It kept him on his toes, and not in the fight-or-flight manner he had grown accustomed to. “I always am. I think this is a you problem.”

He sighed again, dreamy and content. His hand found its usual place against the other side of her neck to keep her still. “I do so love dessert,” he muttered – his lips brushed against her skin closely before he bit down and began to feed. She stiffened at the action – she always did, even when she was asleep, but she remained stiff. He rubbed slow circles against the skin of her jaw near her ear. He pulled away briefly, keeping his lips mostly against her, to whisper, “relax, pet.”

She melted under his touch upon instruction, and he resumed his meal. He hummed in appreciation.

He tried to take little – he was still full, after all, and he didn’t technically need to feed. He just wanted to accept the offer, selfish as he was, to help clear his mind. He gave the puncture site some kitten licks, cleaning up the remaining blood, leaving nothing wasted. “Let me wipe that up,” he said, as he pulled back and straightened back to sitting position, studying his companion who now seemed to be at the edge of sleep. Her head lolled back as if trying to follow the sound of his voice.

“M’kay,” she slurred, as she began to turn on her side. He knew she was a side sleeper – she liked to sleep with her knees tucked up towards her chest and one hand tucked under her head. She often complained about pins and needles the next day, but never did anything to change her sleeping position. He knew she drooled, too, when she was extremely tired – he usually wiped the drool off when he was cleaning her up post-feed. “Thanks.”

“Do you… want water, darling?” He asked, as he tipped out some of the healing potion they kept explicitly for clean up into a clean handkerchief. He approached her and gently held her chin as he took care in dabbing the handkerchief against her wound. He checked for drool – nada. Good.

“D’be nice,” she muttered, her words fading into silence as sleep began to take her back into its arms. “Thanks, melon.”

He frowned. “Excuse me, darling – melon?” Where did that nickname even come from?

She hummed in agreement. “You’re my melon,” she said simply as her voice gave way to a light snore. Her breathing evened out, betraying slumber.

He shook his head as he took her empty water skin, making his way out of the tent and towards the big cauldron they used for clean, potable water. Halsin watched him with mild interest as he carefully refilled the water skin, before cautiously punching the cork back in place. No words were exchanged as he strode back to Tav’s tent, sliding in to find her with her arm stuck up.

“Gimme,” she muttered, and he rolled his eyes to hand the water skin to her. She sat back upright, eyes lidded and hair still a mess. “Gods, I’m so thirsty tonight.”

“That’s because you drool.”

“I do not,” she disputed, lips wrapped around the mouth of her water skin, but he was amused to find her reach up to her cheek anyway. She grumbled, before taking a big drink – he wouldn’t be surprised if she’d emptied the damn thing again. She gulped down the liquid greedily, before she let out a light ‘ah’ as she put the lid back in place.

Astarion’s hand shot out, offering to take the item. With a confused look, she passed it to him, and he put it back on top of the crate she used as a makeshift table. He stood and prepared to leave. “Thanks, Astarion. You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly, with a dopey smile that made her eyes crease at the corners in the way he adored. It made her look so innocent.

Never one to let opportunities pass, he countered, “well, nice of you to remember my name now, my dear. You called me a melon a few minutes ago.” He didn’t address the rest of her statement. He didn’t know how to deal with gratitude – so he didn’t.

She laid back down, closing her eyes and trying to paint herself as a picture of peace. It didn’t seem like she noticed his avoidance. “I didn’t call you ‘a melon’,” she clarified, though it did nothing to demystify the topic to Astarion, “I called you ‘melon’.”

“Yes, okay, darling – but where in the hells did that comes from?”

She frowned and one eye cracked open. “I thought you knew Elvish. Isn’t that ‘friend’ in Elvish?”

Oh. She meant ‘mellon’, but she used the wrong tone, didn’t elongate the correct syllables, and got essentially nothing of it right. He pursed his lips together, unsure of whether to correct her. It would be funnier to… not. Plus, he found he wasn’t very pleased with being called ‘friend’, but he was somehow fine with being called ‘Melon’. It was… cute. And it was special because no one had ever used that pet name on him before. He could let it pass.

“Yes,” he lied, “well, you just butchered the pronunciation a tiny bit, darling, but I see what you’re going for now.”

The single open eye rolled. “That’s what I get for being friendly. Get out of here, you melon.”

He scoffed. “Well, goodnight, my sweet,” he whispered, as he turned to head out of the tent. He cast her one final glance. He could make out her beady little eyes peeking at him and the telltale crease in their corners betrayed a grin she tried to hide beneath her threadbare blanket. He could imagine the little wrinkle her nose would make when she made such a face – it was his second favourite feature of hers.

He felt the intense urge to bundle her up and take her away – she looked so vulnerable and innocent at rest, and the fact that she trusted him while she was in this state gave him conflicted feelings. A part of his mind told him she was an idiot and the perfect target – too trusting, too naïve, too stupid. Fell quickly for a pretty face and a kind word. His insidious mind whispered there must be an ulterior motive to it all – a fetish or some such she was wanting to fulfill. Surely no one was this kind? This giving? If she were in Baldur’s Gate she would have followed him to slaughter without question. And he would have led her there, and the world would have been less bright without her in it.

It made his phantom heart clench. Another voice in his mind asked – what does that make you? You fell quickly for a pretty smile and a generous heart.

Well. It seemed they were just two fools meandering around.

“Sleep well.”

She let out a sleepy chuckle, followed by an impressive yawn. “Goodnight, my melon.”

Astarion emerged from Tav’s tent to find Halsin still carving away, deep in focus. The larger elf looked up at him and his expression softened, before returned to his work with a slight smile. The vampire walked over to his tent, slid in, located the spare blanket he was going to bait Tav into taking in the morning, and laid down to prepare for his trance. He was surprised to find his cheeks hurting.

As he closed his eyes, he thought of melons and wood carvings, and the faint scent of the rosewater that always lingered in Tav’s tent.

Tonight, Astarion was at peace.

[daisynik7]

Bursting at the Seams

Pairing: Takashi Mitsuya x Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~3.3k

cw: switching POVs (2nd and 3rd person), explicit language, kissing, established relationship (yay!)

Summary: You and Mitsuya make your newly blossomed relationship official. To commemorate this special occasion, he invites you to his house for breakfast, where you meet his mother. 

Author's Note: Thank you for your patience with this! I really love writing this story, so I’m doing my best to work on this while I continue a few other WIPs. I appreciate every single one of you who have read this so far. I’m excited to show you all how everything will play out! Would love to know what you think and maybe some predictions on what may happen in the future chapters. Thanks so much for reading!

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Saturday morning, Mitsuya wakes up with a bright smile on his face, the confession from just hours before still replaying in his head like his favorite scene in a movie. He flexes his hand, fondly remembering how hers fit so seamlessly in his. They were close to a kiss; if they hadn’t been interrupted by her parents, he’s sure it would have happened. While he wants nothing more than to feel how soft her lips are, especially pressed against his, he wonders if this is all happening a little too fast. After all, they aren’t official yet. He ought to ask her to be his girlfriend first before he smooches her, right? Isn’t that what a gentleman does?

And is Takashi Mitsuya, founding member and Second Division captain of the Tokyo Manji gang even capable of being a gentleman? Of being a good boyfriend?

He gradually comes down from his dreamy state to contemplate how best to proceed with this. After breakfast, he calls both Draken and Takemitchy, the only two people he knows that are actually succeeding in the boyfriend category. 

“You have a girlfriend now?!” Takemitchy exclaims loudly on the other end. Hina’s in the background, begging him to put it on speaker so she can listen in too. 

“No, not yet. I confessed to her last night and she likes me back.” He smiles to himself, recalling the moment once again. 

“Holy shit, you actually took my advice,” Draken chuckles. “Good shit, man. So did you two kiss yet or…?”

“Well, we almost did,” he explains. “Her parents came out right as we were about to. But it got me thinking that maybe we should make it official first before we do anything irresponsible.”

Draken barks out a laugh. “You know that you can’t get a girl pregnant just from kissing her, right?”

Before Mitsuya can cuss him out, Takemitchy comments, “No, I totally understand where you’re coming from! When Hina and I started dating, we barely held hands. It took even longer for us to kiss! Waiting for the right time just made it all the more special.” 

“Hina, stop holding the gun to his head, we know you’re in the room with us,” Draken teases.

There’s shuffling on their end as she grabs hold of the phone, giggling, “I didn’t even have to tell him to say that! Anyways Mitsuya, I think taking things slow is a wonderful idea!”

“Nah, screw that. You’re a man now, Takashi. And men have needs. As long as she wants it too, I say just go for it.”

“Go for what exactly?” Mitsuya asks, genuinely curious.

“Dude, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Please don’t,” Takemitchy murmurs.

“Nothing gross!” Hina chimes in.

“I’m talking about fu – ”

“Ken Ryuguji!” Emma’s voice rings from the line. “Do not say what I think you’re about to say! Not in front of our child!”

“It can’t even hear yet!” 

Clearly now, Emma insists, “Mitsuya, whatever you do, do not listen to Draken. Go with your heart instead of your…well, you know.”

“Says the woman who is currently pregnant because of you-know-what,” Draken mutters.

“This is totally different. We’ve been together for years. Mitsuya’s only known this girl for a month. And unlike you, Ken Ryuguji, Takashi is actually a sweet guy.”

“Hey!”

She ignores him, adding, “You’ve got all the time in the world. Do what you think is right. Everything will work out in the end.”

He thanks all four of them for their input before ending the call, heeding their advice carefully the remainder of the day as he babysits his sisters at home. It’s probably best for him and Hana to discuss what their expectations are going forward. He has no experience in relationships whatsoever, so naturally, he’s apprehensive. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he somehow becomes a rotten boyfriend. 

Around dinnertime, he decides to text her, asking if she is free to talk on the phone later tonight, to which she confirms that she is. He takes the next few hours to prepare himself, rehearsing what he’d like to say over and over in his head until he tucks his sisters into bed, retreating into his own bedroom to dial Shimizu’s number. 

After two rings, she picks up. “Hello?”

He smiles, happy to hear her voice. “Hi. How are you?”

“Good. And you?”

“Good. Great, actually. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“You’re not. I’m happy you called.”

They exchange pleasantries, recounting each other’s nights before getting to the main matter. His heart skips a beat, getting increasingly nervous, despite how comforting it is to hear her speak so casually with him. When the right opportunity arrives, he clears his throat, remembering what he practiced from earlier. “I just want to make sure that we do this right, you know? I’ve never had a girlfriend, so I really don’t know what to do when it comes to things like this. But I want to do my best to be a good boyfriend to you.”

Her voice is gentle and sweet as she replies, “I feel the same way. I’ve never had a boyfriend either. I don’t know how good of a girlfriend I can be. But I’ll do my best too to be good to you. We’ll learn together. ” 

He grins, touched by her words. “Together. I like that.” He swallows his emotions to continue. “I’m sure your parents won’t approve of you dating a gang member. But you’ll always be safe with me. You have nothing to worry about when it comes to Toman. I can promise you that.” 

“It doesn’t matter to me that you’re in Toman. I already feel safe with you, so I’m not concerned about that at all.”

Surprised, he says, “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms with confidence. “I want you to feel safe with me too. I’ll do everything I can to protect you. I mean, I can’t fight. But I promise that I’ll be there for you whenever you need someone to lean on, someone to support you. I want to help you however I can.”

Tears begin to well in his eyes, his heart on the verge of bursting from his chest. He’s never felt anything like this before. He’s always taken pride in protecting the people dearest to him, whether it be his family or his fellow brothers in the gang. And while he knows that his friends will always have his back, knowing that someone outside of Toman is looking out for him, determined to protect him, feels different. Is it okay for Mitsuya to rely on her like this? To be vulnerable and depend on her throughout all the obstacles that come his way? Draken’s words from last night replay in his head. You deserve to be happy. You’re always the one taking care of others, it’s about time someone takes care of you. The more he thinks about it, he realizes that yes, maybe he does deserve this. 

He grabs a tissue from his nightstand, wiping away his sniffles. “You’ve already helped me so much. I don’t know if this makes sense, but when I’m with you, I feel normal. I feel like myself, you know? Like I’m more than just this Toman jacket. I’m just me. A lot of our classmates are too scared to talk to me, and when they do, it’s usually for a favor because of my reputation. But you approached me, wanting sewing lessons. I feel like you see the real me more than anyone else does.”

It takes a several seconds for her to respond, seemingly holding back tears. Eventually, she says, “I’m really glad I came to you for lessons then.”

“Me too.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them as they cherish each other’s heartfelt sentiments, Mitsuya stares at his bedroom ceiling with the phone pressed to his hear, wishing he could see her right now. “So, Hana Shimizu.”

She giggles. “Yes, Takashi Mitsuya?”

“Would you please do me the honor and be my girlfriend?”

There’s more of her precious laughter as she answers, “Yes. And will you do me the honor and be my boyfriend?”

“Absolutely yes,” he replies, smiling even wider. He’s tempted to get out of bed and drive to her house to commemorate this special occasion, but he resists. Instead, he blurts out, “Do you want to come over for breakfast tomorrow? I really want to see you before school on Monday. I can make pancakes. Plus, my mom has a late shift and she’ll be home, so you can meet her.”

“Isn’t this too soon to be meeting your mother?” 

“Is it? Are there rules against it or something?”

She laughs. “I guess not. We can make up our own rules. As long as we’re learning together, right?”

“You know I like the sound of that. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes, tomorrow. Goodnight, Takashi.”

His breath hitches, enjoying the sound of his name from her mouth a little too much. Chest fluttering with affection, he says quietly, “Goodnight, Hana.”

~~~

Within twenty-four hours of his confession, you are officially Takashi Mitsuya’s girlfriend. 

You stare wide-eyed at the ceiling of your bedroom in disbelief, the phone still warm in your grasp having just finished your conversation with your now boyfriend. You’re tingling all over, utterly amazed and completely ecstatic at this recent turn of events. Who would have thought you, plain and ordinary Hana Shimizu, would be anyone’s girlfriend, let alone Takashi Mitsuya’s girlfriend? 

It takes you a while to fall asleep, mind racing with thoughts and fantasies of your new relationship. You wake up the next morning, both nervous and excited to see him. Knowing that you’ll be meeting his mom today, you put on your best dress, hoping to make a good impression. You quietly step down the stairs, barely sticking your head into the kitchen to greet your parents. “Morning! I’m going out for breakfast!” 

Before you can sneak away, your mother calls out to you. “With who? Mei and Keiko?”

You contemplate lying, but you know that never pans out well. So, praying they don’t question it, you answer, “I’m going to the Mitsuyas.” You listen for any reaction, and when you only hear hushed whispers between your parents, you slip into your shoes, heading out the door. 

It’s a short trip to his house, less than ten minutes. You knock on the front door, taking a deep breath. He answers quickly, a smile already on his face, eyes full of kindness as he greets you. “Hana, good morning.” Your name sounds so soothing from his mouth; you never thought your name was special but hearing it from him makes it feel that way. “Hi, Takashi.”

He rubs the nape of his neck, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I’m not used to hearing you say my first name yet.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, not at all. I just…I think I like it a little too much,” he admits. 

You reach for his hand, brushing your fingers gently along his knuckles. When Luna and Mana come running towards the entrance, you immediately retract from him, embarrassed. “Ms. Hana!” they cheer, hugging you tightly around the waist. 

You pat their heads. “Hi! I missed you two!”

They peer up at you, beaming. “We missed you so much!” 

“What did Taka do to you, huh? Should we beat him up?” Luna offers, shooting a glare at her brother.

“No, no, no! He didn’t do anything wrong, I promise,” you assure them. 

Takashi snorts, playfully rolling his eyes. “Like you even stand a chance.”

“We know exactly where to hit you, Taka!” Luna threatens. 

Mana chimes in. “Yeah, you taught us, remember?!”

You grin at him, brow raised. “What are you teaching them?”

“Self-defense, of course,” he replies, smirking. “In case some idiots try to mess with them.”

A woman with the same downturned lavender eyes appears from the kitchen, a warm smile on her face. The resemblance is uncanny; this is definitely Takashi’s mother. She’s as beautiful as you imagined her to be and you’re immediately flustered under her gaze. You bow to her, the kiddos still latched to your legs. “Good morning, Ms. Mitsuya. Thank you for having me.”

“Of course. You’re welcome anytime. I’ve heard so much about your from my children, so I’m so happy I finally get to meet you. The food is ready, so if you’d like, we can start eating.”

The five of you gather around the table, Takashi taking the seat beside you, his knee touching yours as you sit cross-legged on the cushion. The spread is fantastic: fluffy pancakes stacked neatly one-by-one, pillowy golden tamago topped with strips of seaweed, bowls of strawberries and other fruit to top it all off. Luna and Mana help themselves to a pile of pancakes, drizzling a generous amount of syrup before they take a big bite. Takashi serves you, giving you a little bit of everything to try. His mother watches the two of you, a small grin on her face. 

You chat casually, Ms. Mitsuya asking the typically questions: how’s school, what your family does for work, what you plan to study in university. “I’m going to major in education. I want to become a teacher,” you inform her.

“So you will follow in your father’s footsteps. How wonderful,” she comments. “Mitsuya, maybe you should consider doing that, too.”

You face him, nodding. “You’d be a great teacher!” 

He shrugs, stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “I think I’d rather keep my major to business. If I ever become a designer, I might want to open my own shop, you know?”

His mom leans forward, a serious expression on her face now. “Do you think you’ll really follow through with it, Takashi? I know how committed you are to Toman, but maybe it’s time to move on from it. I don’t want you to put your dreams on the backburner for this little gang of yours.”

“Why can’t I do both? I’m not just going to abandon my friends, Mom. And I’m not going to abandon my dreams, either. I can do them both,” He avoids her gaze, staring down at his almost empty plate of food. You rest your hand on his knee, squeezing it, wanting to show your support for him. If he’s confident that he can balance both obligations at the same time, then you believe in him too. 

He smiles at you, entwining his fingers with yours. “I have another announcement to make. Hana and I are dating.” Much to your shock, he holds your hands up, showcasing this display of affection. 

Luna and Mana squeal, applauding enthusiastically. “Yay!”

You anticipate his mother’s reaction and breathe a sigh of relief when you notice her serious demeanor relax, a grin spreading across her face at the news. “Congratulations. I’m very happy to hear that.”

He grips you tighter, looking at her. “Mom, I know you think I have a lot to deal with, but I can do this. When have I ever let you down?”

She shakes her head. “You never have.”

“So, do I have your support? Do we have your support?”

She smiles. “Of course. You always have, and you always will.”

While the abrupt announcement has you shaken at first, you can’t help being elated at how well this is already going. With his mother’s approval, this only leaves your parents to consult with next, which might prove a bit more difficult than this. However, with Takashi by your side, you’re confident you can convince them to trust in this new relationship of yours. Especially with all the wonderful merits your boyfriend brings to the table. 

After breakfast, you play with this sisters in the living room while mother and son wash the dishes in the kitchen. When Takashi excuses himself to use the bathroom, you take this chance to speak to her in private, if only for a brief moment. Standing next to her at the sink, a clean dish towel in hand, you offer to dry the dishes, which she gladly accepts. “Ms. Mitsuya. I just want to thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

“Like I said, you’re always welcome here.” She glances at the hallway, checking on Takashi, who remains in the bathroom. In a lower, hushed tone, she adds, “I just hope that you can push Takashi in the right direction.”

Confused, you ask, “What do you mean?”

She sighs, scrubbing the last bowl with the sponge. “I don’t want him to be in Toman for the rest of his life. I’m not sure if you know this, but back in middle school, he got into this really big fight. He was beaten to nearly an inch of his life, all for the sake of his friend, Hakkai. I’m scared that if this continues any further, there will be a time he’ll put his life on the line and won’t be able to get back on his feet. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, so maybe you can steer him to where he needs to go.”

It’s never crossed your mind what hardships Takashi has had to overcome in his past. Sure, there are rumors and idle gossip about him floating amongst your classmates, but you never paid it any mind, wanting to get to know him for yourself. Hearing this from his own mother is concerning, and with her subtle plea for you to guide him away from Toman, you’re not sure if you’re qualified to do that. It doesn’t seem like your place to interfere with his life. All you can do is support in whatever decisions he makes, right?

Your boyfriend returns before you can respond to her, standing beside you to help dry the remaining dishes. Ms. Mitsuya slides her gloves off, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “I need to run to the store to get a few groceries. I’ll take the girls with me so they can pick out some snacks. Will you be okay here, Taka?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Hana, it was so nice to finally meet you. I’ll see you again soon, okay?” She wraps her arms around you in a snug embrace. 

“Yes, thank you for breakfast, Ms. Mitsuya,” you say, squeezing her back. You hug Luna and Mana goodbye before they leave hand-and-hand with their mother, leaving you and Takashi alone.

You turn to face him, stepping closer. “I guess I should head home soon.”

He closes the distance even further, leaning towards you, his hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

You grin at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Thank you for inviting me. This was really fun.”

He slides his hands around your waist, pulling you closer, nuzzling his nose to yours. “It was. Thank you for coming.”

Your lips meet in a delicate kiss, sweet and soft just as you imagined it’d be. Warmth fills your chest and you’re almost breathless when you part, his forehead pressed to yours, smiling. “Do you really have to go?”

You giggle, giving him a peck on the cheek before you pull away. “I think I should.”  

He watches you from the doorway as you make your way outside, twirling in your dress once more to wave goodbye. You stroll through the neighborhood in a daze, lips tingling, body buzzing with excitement, taking your time to get home. 

Ms. Mitsuya’s request still lingers in your mind as you enter your house, humming a happy tune with your mom and dad eyeing you suspiciously. Then, there’s your parents, of course, who you’ll need to talk to soon. There may be obstacles to face, but you’re confident that you and Takashi can persevere, together. All that matters in this moment is that the two of you are happy. And there is nothing standing in your way to stop that. 

[b0n3d0g]

posting my unfinished wips from metaltango week because I think they should be allowed to escape my wip folder even if they aren't done o7

this one was intended for day 7- unhealed wounds/lingerie

Leon was starting to get woozy. He made it home to his apartment building in one piece, but skipping medical was starting to catch up to him. The thought of having to spend any more time in another hospital science-y setting sounded like hell. He'd rather just patch himself up at home, where he could then lay in his own bed and sleep knowing where all the defenses were.

Well, there was also Jack. After being discharged Leon had been able to strong-arm him into staying at his place. It was like coaxing a stray dog from his well defended corner, but eventually they found an arrangement that accommodated them both.

With the close proximity, and shedding of their Major and subordinate roles, what were once only lingering looks and wandering hands during sparring became something more tangible. They had yet to put any defining label on it, and on the nights they didn't fuck they'd still sleep in their separate rooms, but those nights were starting to become far and few between. Whatever it was Leon was content with it, having another physical person to return home to made crawling out of dilapidated labs a bit more worth it.

Finally making it to his door he unlocks it with some struggle, whatever injury making his hands shake was not appreciated. Still in mission mode he enters silently, stalking through the house to their shared bathroom. Without thinking as to why it may be mostly closed, Leon swings the door fully open.

Standing there was Jack, wearing a deep maroon lacy babydoll dress. The skirt portion was sheer enough that Leon could see the outline of the matching thong. It looked like he'd been adjusting the dress’ straps before Leon had barged in.

He'd startled as the door opened, at first squaring his shoulders off in the way he always did when he felt like he needed to guard himself. He took a second to look Leon over, brow immediately furrowing at the state he's in. “Did you skip medical again?”

Leon chuckles, face heating. “I feel like there's more important things to discuss here.”

“You have a problem with this?” Again he assumes that defensive stance.

“No.” Leon sways on his feet, holding his hands up in playful defense. “You look good.”

The tips of Jack's ears flush as he shakes his head. “Go sit on the couch, you shouldn't be standing right now.”

“Yes, sir.” Leon gives a mock salute, and wobbles off to the living room.

He makes it, barely, flopping down over the arm to lay across the couch with a low groan. The ceiling above him slowly began to spin, so to prevent the onslaught of nausea Leon closed his eyes. He almost knocked out right there, but a sharp flick to his forehead kept him conscious. With a groan he gingerly moves to sit up straight, blearily looking down at Jack as he fusses with the first aid kit.

“You really need to quit skipping the infirmary.” Jack tenderly lifts his shirt, maneuvering it off of Leon without agitating to many of his injuries. His hands ghost the bruises, purple bordering on black.

“But I've got such a pretty nurse at home.” Leon's got that boyish grin on his face, it twists into a grimace when Jack's hands reach a nasty gash on his side.

“This is going to need stitches,” Jack eyes the gash with his brow furrowed, “and we don't have anything to numb that.”

“Can't feel any worse than when I got it.” Leon gives a half shrug, poorly suppressing the wince at the motion.

Jack looked unconvinced but carried on anyway, cleaning any dirt and grime from the wound to prepare it for stitching. If this was the first time he was doing this he'd have more bite, some ire at how little Leon cared for his own well being. Having done this on several other occasions however, the best way to keep Leon amicable to care was to lay off for now. Once he's better he'll get an earful of how reckless and idiotic he's being.

“Try not to bite your tongue out.” The deadpan of Jack's delivery made it hard to tell if he was joking or not. Either way Leon takes a large anticipatory breath as the needle is pushed into his skin. He white knuckles the couch cushion, shakily breathing out as the first stitch is completed.

He tries to keep his focus on Jack, and not the repeated methodical jabs to his side. It works, for the most part, he wasn't lying when he said his nurse looked pretty. Idly he wonders how long Jack has had that getup, and if there were more dresses like it hidden away his drawers.

One thing about Jack was that he's efficient, and before long the stitches are done. He moves to stand, bundling up the bloodied gauze and disinfectant wipes.

Leon sticks out his lip in a mock pout. “Aren't you supposed to kiss it better?”

He intended it to be a joke, a bit of light ribbing, but a desperate want creeps its way into his voice. He'd been gone on that mission for days, and ended up missing Jack a great deal. That was another reason he favored the at home treatment, not that he'd say it out loud.

Jack side-eyes him, a small smile tugging at the side of his mouth. “Go take a shower and we'll talk.” He stalks off and out of sight to dispose of the contaminated materials.

Leon feels his face heat up. With great care he stands and staggers his way to the bathroom. He strips down, assessing what's covered in a tolerable amount of grime to keep. Which ends up being nothing but his boots.

Stepping into the shower he turns the water up to scolding hot, and hurriedly scrubs himself down. He'll say it's because of the fresh stitches, and not the promise of a “talk”.

As he's toweling himself off he spots a pair of boxers that had been laid out for him. Jack must've left them there for him when he was fetching the first aid kit. The thought leaves something fluttering in his chest. He scurries out of the bathroom, feeling better but still rather woozy.

He opens the door to his room, and isn't surprised to find Jack sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Leon slots himself into his place in Jack's lap, relaxing back into the arms that wrap around his waist.

“Thought you'd take longer actually.” Jack kisses his neck, the skin still wet from Leon's damp hair dripping down it. “Pretty boy like you must have some long routine.”

Leon snorts, dipping down to connect their lips. The kiss started off gentle, feeling a little too much like home.

Leon rolls his hips, tonguing at the scars on Jack's lip in an attempt to escalate.

Jack slides his hands under his thighs lifting him up to lay him back on the bed.

aaand thats as far as I got ! right before the good bit I ran out of steam hehe, but from the nonsense of my outline I'd planned for a lot of gentle frotting with an emphasis on Leon's wounds being agitated (but it's fine because he's a bit into it) knowing me it probably would've ended with a mid-day nap since that's what I tend to default to

I have one other wip I wanna post and I'll add it in a reblog of this post !

[lico-arts]

Quick update + A little treat!

Hello! I won't be very active during July because of ArtFight and a few illustrations i have planned (on top of my job, send help), so to make up for the upcoming lack of content, here's some insight on how i animate my Twst Chibis :)

(shoutout to the person who sent an ask about this topic! idk if i misclicked or if you took it down yourself, but it made me really happy to be asked and i spent 4 hours writing this as an answer, so i'm posting anyway lol)

Rigging & Animation talk below the cut, feel free to scroll by if you were just here for the update (and have a great day 👋)

I'll be taking Mafuyu as the exemple here, because he's the most complete one i made so far.

Firstly, here's some WIPs i saved showing off his faces and hair bones

Basically i went ahead and made an entire rig for him, since i know i'm eventually going to come back and make him more reactions and outfits. I started from scratch so it took a while, but at least now i have a nice base ready to go!

The original sketch was made on CSP, then the model itself and animation were made on Toon Boom because i haven't learned to use Live 2D yet.

Great thing about that is that it ended up being fully vectorized, which is always a plus if i ever need to resize him.

Here's a zoom (or huh, as close up in as my screen will allow) on all the elements, and their hierarchy. From the left are the elements that show up on top of everything (pearls, hair, head & face), to the ones that are behind everything on the right (cardigan back, braid, shadow):

It's kinda tricky to describe but all elements have their individual pegs (the green bits), which then get linked up additionally and in groups, so for example if i start selecting from the hand and go up, it goes:

Hand -> Hand + Forearm -> Hand + Forearm + Upper arm -> Both Arms + Torso + Head + Hair -> Upper Body + Pelvis + Both Legs

Once the model was done it was onto animating!

No secrets here, i really just tried my best to match the rhythm of how the in-game models move, what movements came back regularly etc... So typically: the heads often bop up and down in a specific way when they laugh or look up, the entire body stretches slightly when they jump or get startled, things like that.

I keep thinking that technically i shouldn't have animated the bangs because the in-game models have pretty limited hair animations, but hhh it felt too important to skip for Mafuyu (and mostly i was just having fun lol).

Just for fun, here's what most of my timeline looks like for the idle animation:

I'm confident that the og animations are fully tweened, so i did that too. But ofc with some adjustments to the timing so it doesn't look stiff. Since everything is on ones I didn't have the patience to go back and modify frames by hand lol.

It was especially tricky to figure out how to make the elbows look good, because of the pattern on his cardigan. I had to redraw the arms like 4 times to have them work in all positions. I spent many minutes looking at in-game models that had checkered sleeves (White Rabbit Deuce ended up being my main reference) to analyse how they made theirs work. I could've bothered making a clipping texture that I could warp to match the movement of the arm but,,, that probably would've killed my motivation entirely, i was determined to make this look good, but not THAT much lmao

The bangs, braid and cardigan were the only elements that i animated with bones and warps, for everything else i just used basic pegs to rotate and stretch the limbs

After that i just threw a Ramshackle themed bg behind him and gifed him up, and Voilà!

Random/fun facts, because why not:

The shoes took me 4 hours to make, because im really not used to drawing with vector tools, all those details made it hell lol

His proportions are mostly based off of Ruggie's model :)

I think that about covers it! I tried going into details without being boring, so hopefully it's still understandable, and maybe even interesting for curious folks 🤞

If you made it all the way here, holy shit thank you!!

[idontknowreallywhy]

Finally finished a WIP!! Only took a car breakdown and waiting to be rescued!

Entirely un-proofread but yolo. Thanks to @astranite and @sofasurf and @womble1 for encouragement 🥰

Accidentally broke Virg a bit… 🤭

Play it Out

It had been a textbook rescue. The Thunderbirds Triumphant! Everybody had been saved with nothing more than a collection of minor scrapes and bruises between them. And most of those obtained by Gordon as he attempted to break dance to keep the rescuees entertained while Virgil made a safe passage to the surface.

Yes, definitely a good one. The only tears today were those of joy on parental faces as twenty-eight dusty children burst from the pod module and dashed into their arms to be swung up into the air and spun around and kissed all over their faces and told over and over how much they were loved. The unique privilege of watching such moments was undoubtedly the best part of the job and Virgil was proud to have helped make it happen. He was very happy. Absolutely thrilled.

Absolutely.

The journey home had been filled with the excited chatter of his younger brothers. The pilot tuned them out, fixing a benevolent smile on his face while focusing intently on Two’s background E hum in a mostly unsuccessful attempt to ignore the hollow sensation in his gut.

He didn’t understand where the glow had gone.

Sure, he’d started feeling a little wistful recently. Maybe there were only so many emotional reunions a person could witness before they started playing on a slow motion loop in your head like some cheesy 20th century movie montage and lost their novelty.

Anyway, he’d had plenty of run, catch, throw, spin routines with Alan when he was smaller and knew full well that the inevitable tiny-but-solid knee to the stomach or flailing elbow to the jaw made the whole thing less idyllic than it looked.

God forbid he try that now. Alan’s glare as Virgil had reached out to steady his little brother’s slight stumble off Two’s passenger platform earlier that afternoon could have set his eyebrows on fire.

The throbbing pressure in the back of his throat had been subject to a gradual crescendo since they took off and it was beginning to make it difficult to breathe without concentrating. So he concentrated on breathing. He concentrated on flying. And then on landing. And he sorted post flights. And he cleaned up Gordon’s forehead graze. And he rolled his eyes when Gordon told him to “STOP BEING SUCH A MOM, VIRGARONI”.

That was only niggling at him now because it was Gordon’s most stupid nickname yet. For goodness sake, sounds like a type of pasta. He tramped into the locker room and attempted to drown his increasingly foul mood in the shower - full power-hose mode. Extra hot. He lost track of time just a little, tracing the path of grout around the tiles with his eyes, letting the water drill into his skull and wondering whether this was… everything.

Whether his role in life was to preserve and observe and… just that?

That was a pretty awesome role all told. He was preventing families being torn apart, enabling Happiness and Normality for hundreds. It was a PRIVILEGE. Only an awfully selfish person would have any kind of problem with playing his part. And anyway, look at what he had - his incredible siblings who he adored were always close by, a they had a beautiful home and they wanted for nothing. He was objectively the luckiest man alive.

And yet.

He growled in frustration and shut off the water, leaning heavily on the wall for a moment as a wave of wooziness rushed over him. Maybe the shower had been TOO hot. According to his wrinkly fingertips he’d been here wasting time for far too long. The others would start wondering where he’d got to.

Clothes. Style hair. Happy face on. Up to the lounge.

The lounge was empty. But there was the piano.

Music would make it better, it always did.

Picking something generically soothing - Beethoven’s Moonlight - Virgil focussed intently on the subtlety of the rhythm, recalling his Mom perched next to him on this very stool, explaining it wasn’t as simple as the length of the notes but the different stress on each. She’d had him reciting “pineapple pineapple pineapple” as he played.

He remembered his dad standing behind them, placing an arm around both their shoulders and giving a squeeze as he made some kind of fruit-based pun Virgil could no longer bring to mind. Mom had poked her husband in the ribs, mocked him for his dad jokes and pulled him in for a kiss. Pre-teen Virgil had squirmed with embarrassment but the sweet moment had stuck with him and he’d hoped maybe one day…

With a discordant crunch his hands came to a halt. He clearly needed to play something that required more brainpower to shut down this ridiculous self-pitying Nonsense.

He half stood and reached into the piano stool to extract the book of advanced technical exercises John had bought him a couple of years back. They were fiendish, defied any sense of predictable pattern and the modal shifts set his teeth on edge. That should do it.

Time passed. It did not pass quickly. Half an hour or possibly decades went by and all he had achieved was a twitchy tingle in his left ring finger and the start of a tension headache. The cold, empty feeling had intensified. He shook his hands violently to shift the cramp and turned the page.

There was a soft cough behind him.

“That was… different?”

“It’s called training, Scott. Agility exercises. If I don’t do these I can’t expect to play the fancy stuff.” Virgil’s eyes widened slightly as he heard his own snappish tone.

“Sure, it’s just I could do with sorting some paperwork and so would you mind playing something a little less… uh… like… that?”

The part of Virgil that lived to keep his big brother sane slapped himself upside the head for being so self-absorbed. He looked up and arranged his face into an obliging smile.

“Of course, sorry. You want jazz or some kind of chilled filmic stuff or…?”

Scott’s wink and finger guns indicated relaxing film scores were the order of the day and so Virgil delivered. It was all going very well, he was definitely calming down and everything was fine. And not a Scott Tracy fake ‘Fine’ either, he cast a sidelong glance at his brother who appeared to be typing away peacefully. He transitioned into a lilting F# minor theme and went heavy on the sustain pedal to allow the higher notes to resonate through the room. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he shut all the silliness firmly away and began to enjoy himself.

Until a particular chord progression seemed to flick a switch in his soul and every hair on the back of his arms shivered to attention as a shard of ice slid down his spine.

His fingers sprang off the keys lifting the tune out through the high chords as it took on a life of its own - an insistent, yearning melody. A gasp escaped him as he found he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs - the villa faded out and he was grounded only by his fingertips returning again and again to the familiar rise and fall of black on white.

The ball of tension that had formed behind his eyes flooded down through his veins and out through his hands like poison sucked from a wound. The ache of loneliness - the longing… the surge of grief for what could never be - he forced it all down his arms and out into the wild, transformed into melody, pulse, rhythm to whirl past his bowed head and soar into the rafters and… away.

Virgil let his fingers rest on the keys as the last notes faded, gradually becoming aware of the tremor in his hands. Exhaustion swept over him and he shivered, realising his shirt was soaked with perspiration.

Silence but for the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.

Then, a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing away tears he had no recollection of forming. He released the breath he was holding and leaned into the touch with a sigh, eventually dragging his eyelids ajar.

Scott’s other hand settled on his shoulder as he crouched next to the piano stool, blue eyes full of questions and concern.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Virgil cleared his throat and began reaching for some appropriately reassuring words.

A earth-shatteringly loud screech startled them both as Gordon sprinted across the room trailing shaving foam with a furious Abominable-Snowman-Alan hot on his heels.

Virgil scraped his scattered emotions back into submission and watched Scott’s expression as his big brother decided to put a pin in the Tinies-wrangling for later and turned back to him. Some kind of explanation was clearly required here but Virgil found himself unable to add any more weight to the burden his brother already carried.

And so for the first time in a decade Virgil told his best friend a deliberate lie.

“I was just thinking about Mom”

Maybe TBC? I should really fix them…

Note: Feel free to pick your own hauntingly heartbreaking film theme to knock Virgil over with (there are many that would fit!). The one that gave me the ice treatment the other day and I haven’t been able to get out of my head since is here.

(It’s all going well until about 40 seconds in then it whallops him)

Part 2, Part 3

AO3

[wa-royal-tea]

I'm back! Kinda + What I've been up to + Timezone Change, Story Posting Update

Heyyyy thur guys! I’m back, kinda. Sorry it took me a while to update you guys on what I’ve been working on, life has been extra busy since July 31st for me 💀 I won't post a story update yet as I still have things to do but I mightttt return by the end of September.

If you wanna know what I've been up to, read under the cut. Just a warning, it's pretty long 💀

I have an update on what I've been working on irl and it's kind of an exciting news, at least for me lol. So, in case anyone is wondering what I've been up to, I'm actually preparing to further my Masters overseas and this plan has been a wip since last year. I've been studying for my IELTS because the universities I've applied to requires me to take it. And then I had my graduation ceremony for my Bachelor's Degree after waiting for SO long bcs of Covid. It was one of the happiest day in my life bcs I got the Vice Chancellor's award!!! Sorry for the bragging there, I'm just so proud of myself :') I worked my ass off to maintain my CGPA every semester so getting that award really felt like all of that hard work was worth it :')

After all that is done, I applied to the Uni's that I wanted and surprisingly, all the Uni's I applied to gave me an offer which is pretty neat! I accepted one of the offers and then I had to look for a sponsorship.

I kept it a hush-hush kind of thing and only told several of my close friends about what I was planning to do bcs it was something that I wasn't sure that I'll be getting so anytime that I was taking a "break", I was actually working on this in the background (had to attend zoom interviews with the Uni's. Doing the tasks in order to get an interview invite etc.). It was a stressful process but yeah, this is what I've had planned for me when I was younger so I was determined to make it happen no matter what! Your girl is not one to give up easily! 😤

So around June this year, the sponsorship that I've been aiming for opened and I applied for it, got the results that I had been offered a full-ride sponsorship on July 31st and everything became so busy for me because I had to prepare the necessary documents to be sent to the sponsorship board. It was an exhausting process as I had to make sure that everything is prepared perfectly so there wouldn't be any problems and so far, alhamdulillah, everything has been going well. I had my visa done, I secured a place to stay during the duration of my studies, all the documents were sent at the end of last week. But preparing all of these took a toll on my energy and I simply don't have the energy to open my game or even open blender to work on my story. But I have been writing the scripts and all so yeah, the story is still running in the background. I did find some little time to work on poses but I worked on a few before I stopped because I was too tired hahaha.

Anyways, only a few people knew what I was working on while I was on this break. Shoutout to Miss Wheat knee and Gigi for being patient with me replying to their discord messages late everyday 😭 And thank you for giving me your emotional support and encouragement! A huge thank you to both Miss Devilled Eggs and Wheat knee for helping me in my process of applying to the Uni's from helping me brush up my English for my IELTS during one of our previous calls, and for helping me with my Piece to Camera video practice for my Uni interviews. I really, greatly, am thankful to you guys for that. And to Wheat knee, thank you for believing in me when I was overthinking stuff thinking I wouldn't get the offers sfkhskl I really appreciate you for that 😢

And with that, I would like to update you guys that my posting time will be changing as I will be moving to London for my studies. So my timezone will no longer be GMT+8 :') It will be GMT+1 as of September 28th. Aside from that, my postings won't be regular too, I'll be updating whenever I can as I'll probably be busy with my studies and all. So, wish me luck! I'm a bit anxious about this so I hope I'll do well :')

Thank you to all my readers who are still there for me since day 1, you all are the best! And sorry that the story will take a while to be completed, I'll try my best to still work on it bcs I love it too much to just leave it like that 😭

That's all I guess! Thank you again for reading this if you are reading it lol.

Love,

Nina ❤

[decks-writing-blog]

Here to Stay Drabbles: Benrey Benry Benrye

Summary: Benrey makes some important decisions.

[A/N] In a not yet released chapter of my current WIP fic 'Gordon Swap' my headcanon that Benrey stole Barney's uniform at some point in the past gets brought up and if I recall correctly I alluded to that being the case near the end of WeverTF Benrey is too because it's an idea I've had a for a while. Writing the bit where it's brought up in 'Gordon Swap' made me want to write this so I did.

~

Everyone paid attention to the security guards. When sensitive experiments were being worked on they blocked the entrance to the labs in question, necessitating people talk to them to be let through. The perfect set up for some fun shenanigans. It wouldn’t work if not one of them though which meant a uniform was needed.

The locker and thus the name tag on the uniform inside read ‘Barney’. A good name… maybe. What made something a good name? That one brought to mind barns so maybe whoever it was owned a barn. Assuming barns existed outside of fantasy video games anyway. Regardless the name was taken and thus that one wouldn’t do no matter how good or bad it was.

Something that started with a ‘B’ would be fine though. B was a pretty cool letter as far as letters went. … A long while of just sitting in the locker room, staring at the name tag so far hadn’t brought much inspiration. Naming oneself was hard. In video games ‘aaaaaaaa’ or some kind of swear word, making the NPC’s look silly and/or rude, worked great. In real life though, in a new human looking form, it had to be something believable. Changing it later was technically possible but what if this security guard thing really took off? A bunch of different names might get confusing and wouldn’t feel right anyway. Any name chosen here would likely stick for a while.

Sticking with being called ‘X’ was possible but it didn’t feel like a name. That was the experiment’s title and the titles of other experiments almost never lined up with any of the proper names for the beings/objects involved and thus it shouldn’t here either. Besides, some distance from that lab would be nice, easier to prank people further away from it as they’d be far less likely to suspect anything fishy.

“Barney. Barbara. Benjamin.” What other ‘B’ names were there? Preferably ones that would be easy to scribble onto the the name tag with the sharpie. “Bob. Boob.” That one wasn’t a name. But it didn’t have to be a real, name did it? Just close enough to one to sound believable. It was hard to know what counted as a real name anyway.

“Barnley. Barley. Benley.” That one had kind of a nice ring to it but wasn’t quite right. “Beney. Ben… ray, like a ray of sunshine? Benray. Hmm… nah, too pretty.” Not that there was anything wrong with being named after a ray of sunshine, the sun was quite nice actually, but pretty wasn’t cool and it had to be something cool. This still felt like a good line of thinking though. So instead of ‘a’ like a pretty ray of sunlight how about the ‘e’ from the original name stay? Meaning it would be… “Benrey.”

“Benrey. Benrey. Benrey. Benrey. Benrey.” Ha. It’d be funny if that was the full name. Maybe some of them could be spelled a little differently too like ‘Benry’ or ‘Benrye’.

Standing and looking around revealed no one to talk to. Which made sense, humans like to sleep every single night for some reason and thus few were ever around during the night. Pretending to talk to someone would have to do.

“My name’s Benrey, nice to meet’cha. Howdy, hello, I’m Benrey. I need to see your uh… papers or something ‘cause I’m totally a security guard so I gotta see that stuff to let you through. … Hello, I’m uh… security guard, Benrey, gotta show me your papers now, ‘kay?” The delivery on some of that wasn’t great. Did security guards even introduce themselves by name? And probably instead of the nebulous ‘papers’, asking for a specific document that he could change up at will would be better. But the name felt pretty good.

The sharpie cap came off with a small pop. Pressing the uniform against the locker made it easier to scribble on the name tag. Turn the ‘ar’ into a big ‘e’ then add a little ‘r’ in front of and slightly over the ‘e’ after the ‘n’ so it wasn’t clear if it was being covered up or replaced, opening the door for it be read as ‘Benrey’ or ‘Benry’. Perfect.

New human looking form and new human sounding name, yay. There was one thing missing though. None of the humans around the lab or in any video games or TV shows were referred to as ‘it’. Why was a mystery because almost everything else – plants, bugs, animals, and video game monsters alike – went by ‘it’ at least some of the time. But if humans went by ‘he’, ‘she’ or in one instance ‘they’, then to blend in more with them being addressed as such was necessary, right? Not that blending in all the way was the goal. Standing out too much too soon would make the bit harder though.

What was the difference between ‘it’s, ‘he’s, ‘she’s and ‘they’s though? Paying more attention to that kind of stuff would’ve helped out here. Was it even something that could be gleaned from looking at a person though? Maybe it was a choice people made and told everyone else and Benrey had just never overheard such a conversation. Asking was an option as was sneaking onto a computer to look it up but… did it really matter? Of everything else, this felt far less important. So… he would be a ‘he’ because as far as he knew all the security guards he knew were ‘he’s so he would be one too.

His name was ‘Benrey’, he was a ‘he’, and he was a security guard. He wasn’t human but he would fit in with them a bit more now, enough to hopefully have some fun.

[steviewashere]

I don't want to wait until WIP Wednesday, so here's the first journal entry in my Steddie Vecna Apocalypse AU. Just so you know, the piece is a 5+1, five journal entries from during the apocalypse and one that's an epilogue. There are non-first person POV scenes following each entry. So, no, this is not a first person POV fic. <3

CW: Possible Non-Canon Character Death, Mention of Prescribed Medications

————— April 16th, 1986

I don’t know what I’m doing with this. I’m not much for writing. Fuck, I couldn’t even write an essay for my senior paper. Nancy had to coach me through eighty percent of it. But I’ll go insane if I don’t speak. And I’m being careful with my voice for now. Those demogorgon things are blind, but aware. They can sense the heat of our bodies, the sounds of our movement, the smell of our fear and our blood.

Many people I’ve had to rescue have ultimately faded into nothing. They scream and they cry and they shake. They get too close, they stray too far. They reek of sweat. Even though I tried to get them away, to get them back towards the safe houses, they weren’t savable. I tried, though. Believe me, please, I tried.

Hawkins may not be salvageable. I don’t think this town is meant for saving. We try anyway. There’s the safe houses, like I mentioned. One bordering the exit sign, that’s where they put the women and children. They being the feds, by the way. Didn’t make that clear, should do that by now. Anyway. There’s the safe house across from old Forest Hills; the victims from the sinkhole crevice tearing through the trailer park go there. And then the final safe house is Hawkins High.

Our group is between Hopper’s cabin and my house. Everybody is safe there. Eddie’s no longer in hiding, but he still sleeps down the hall from me. Max is out of the hospital, her old bed now taken up by an elderly woman; the woman will probably die—a demogorgon got her with its claws—and Max is with El. The Wheelers are with their parents in the exit sign safe house, same with Henderson and his mom, the Sinclairs are there, too, and Mrs. Hargrove. Jon and Will are here with Hopper, El, Max, and Joyce. I wish we could take Max back to her mother, but she’s under constant supervision—El believes her newfound blindness is connected to Vecna. Wayne is no longer at the high school, he’s been forcefully relocated to old Forest Hills, but he’s welcome around here any time. Robin’s with her parents at the high school; that’s where Vickie is, so that’s where she’ll be.

I haven’t seen my parents since before the earthquake. They were out of town on a business trip. Mom went with Dad because she still doesn’t trust him alone. They called me the day Dustin brought me along to find Eddie. Told me they were on their way home, were driving back from the airport. I can hear back the message on the answering machine, as long as I keep the generator up and running.

Mom told me she loves me in it.

I can't help but think that they should’ve been back by now. I’ve checked with the soldiers on the edge, see if they saw a black Lincoln come through. Told me no. Told me they found remains of a car; a black car. I stopped checking after that. Couldn’t stomach the meaning behind that.

Our town is in ruin. I’m not alone, I have to remind myself. I’ll go out on monster hunting duty tonight, first time on my own. We’ll see how that goes.

I have to go, I can hear Eddie rousing. Time to check his wounds. Make sure he has his dose of antibiotics. See if he needs Tylenol; opioid free now…yay!

————— I'm really excited to finish and publish this at some point. Let me know what y'all think <3

[terraliensvent]

Civ and Coy have left the species altogether as of today due to disagreements with the current staff. They didn’t want to cut back on making adopts so they removed all the pet info and split apparently.

What’s your opinion mod? Need screenshots?

gonna talk about this whole sitch in one go since i got a bunch of asks all together about it (asks above isnt all of them, just what i thought was notable)

first of all, imgur gallery of relevant screens in chronological order for you all. i am nothing if not a diligent journalist: https://imgur.com/a/8JlrfUs i recommend reading through that all because i dont feel like adding transcripts atm

now me personally, this is how i feel about the announcement

it astounds me how far coy will go to show their own ass in these situations (being impulsive, breaking in to the site to delete shit, shit talking the community THEY CULTIVATED??) and the funniest fucking part is that all this started because they were asked to maybe not profit off the species more than the people who are actually working hard on it (which, genuinely i think the new team has done more to further the species than anything ever under civ and coy. we have actual tangible evidence of work being done in the staff wip channel and FINALLY FUCKING TRAIT GUIDES, but anyways)

coy is a modern day furry icarus; all you had to do was shut your stupid mouth and you could have continued to rake in cash from the species you essentially left to die. i mean hell, cal (tycho) was being incredibly generous in saying you would be allowed 1 adopt per month as opposed to every two months like every other damn member of staff has to follow. you flew too close to the sun and now youve lost your easiest source of cash flow you dumbass

AND ON TOP OF THAT, to go on your instagram story to bitch and whine about it and show even more your lack of empathy for the people trying to piece together the mess you made, its just such disgusting behavior honestly. like terra staff is asking so little of you and yet you feel the need to shit your diaper over it because "well i created this initially so i should get to profit more than the staff team who are actually doing shit" youre acting like some CEO of a company who gets to rake in cash just because they slapped their name on a project being run by other people. its corny as hell and insanely childish that you cant be an adult (coy is 19 now guys!) and either abide by the fucking MINISCULE request they made of you, or be a civil human being and wash your hands of it instead of continuing again and again to try and wreck shit for other people who dont even want to gaf about you anymore. again, you had the easiest option in front of your face that would allow you to keep making money from your "brand" while doing essentially nothing, but you just could not be an adult and put away your impulsivities for a goddamn minute. that really exemplifies every single drama this species has ever been in, shit fits rising up because you and your staff (not current staff) couldnt grow the fuck up for five minutes and think before you type

and then to act like theyre not in the wrong about it really is the cherry on top of the shit sundae. coy has such an echo chamber around them that any bad decision is never critiqued and they just continue on this self-righteousness. maybe stop misconstruing the situation like "wah wah they keep changing things and pulling the rug out from under me" (which, funny enough you would know what was going on if you actually faced your consequences for once and tried to be a part of your bastard childs life) because you know thats not what happened. i hope their fans see how shitty their behavior is, because if i was someone with this sordid of a history especially relating to cs, i doubt anyone would want to work with me.

oh and civ left too lol. honestly i find their lack of response a million leagues better than whatever the fuck coys got going on. new terra staff keeps raking in the dubs i guess, i mean getting coy and civ to stop money grubbing over the species is awesome and now it can probably flourish even better than before. im sure the new pets will be cool too, seeing as the old ones were not really anything to lose your mind over. barely anyone wanted them as part of the species, and now that theyre gone theyre probably gonna be tossed into the void. at least now it might be cool to see what new staff team comes up with in the way of pets

mega rant over now but feel free to keep talking in my inbox about it, terravent fans rejoice because we finally have something to talk about

[wraith-caller]

WIP Wednesday

@tallmatcha kindly tagged me. @no-braincells-inc @nullcanary @fenharael @scrawnytreedemon and anyone else on here who may have a WIP they wanna share :)

here is something from my singular attempt at a more light hearted fic.

“Would you like to tell me why you felt the need to break Head Preceptor Callium’s nose just outside my class where all of my students could see it?” Rogier was truly at a loss. D had been many things, but rash wasn’t typically one of them. Perhaps he could stand to be a bit more thoughtful or nuanced sometimes, but he’d never been prone to such violent outbursts before.

Maybe things had changed in the years they’d been apart. Well, of course they’d changed. Change was the only constant, after all. Evidence of that was glowering at him from behind a featureless golden mask made to appear as if it were peering out from the gaping maw of a lion. Silver and gold replaced by the red and gold of the New Order. “I found him disagreeable,” D answered.

Rogier waited for elaboration. None came. He pressed his lips together and kept his face passive enough, even if he wanted to shout at this idiot for the scene he’d caused. Half a lecture wasted quelling the wounded pride (and face) of one ex-lover, wrangling the stoic fury of the other. He almost wished Radahn had never given up his stranglehold on the stars so that fate would stop fucking with him. Of all the preceptors for D to run into in the hour or two he was here!

Maybe it was a tad self-involved to assume that he had been the reason for D punching the other man in the face, but with so little data, Rogier could hardly begin to extrapolate. The only point of commonality between the two was himself, but how likely was it that they’d spoken of him in such a brief space of time?

He changed tactics, hoping to put D at ease and draw something approaching an explanation out. He’d have to give it to the provost before long anyway. Callium would surely twist this into being his fault somehow, after all, and he would need to be prepared with a defense.

With his most condescending smile, he eyed the red feathery thing on D’s helm. “Nice plume, by the by.”

D was still rigid, and had not taken more than two steps into the room. “So I have been told.”

Rogier let the smile soften up, something more friendly. “The students have been tracking your company’s progress since you left Leyndell. They’re thrilled to see Knights of the Order in person. You could be very popular here, you know.”

Nothing for a moment. Then, “We don’t need to speak.”

Why be precise when you can just obliterate everything at once? Such was D, Hunter of Tact, quarry ever out of reach. Rogier kept the smile but what had he been expecting? That D would see him and change his mind about everything? Sit down for a friendly chat over tea? Maybe even sweep him in close and touch his cheek tenderly like he used to? By every star in the sky, he was delusional. It’d been five years! Why couldn’t he let this damned thing die? “That makes for a very boring wait, and you’re the one who disrupted my class and caused me to have to endure it. So, you will have to deal with some discomfort of your own.” Rogier dropped into his chair and sank low, legs splayed like a child having a minor fit. The toes of his boots were peeking out the other side of the desk.

D said nothing still, and stood at attention like a soldier waiting for an order from his superior. He looked imbalanced and strange without the bust at his chest. Rogier tilted his head and let his eyes wander around his office. This was becoming painful. Had been painful for years, really. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, and tried again. “How do you find Leyndell?” he asked, eyes on the ceiling.

“Pleasant.”

Had he ever had a single conversation with this man? Ever?

But that was just it, he supposed. He’d had far too many. The well was dry but he kept stubbornly sending a bucket down expecting to get anything back but bones and dust. Knowing this, he threw the bucket again anyway, because he had never been good at knowing when to quit. “How is Devin?”

“Why do you continue to speak?” D asked before Rogier even finished the question.

“It is entirely normal to make conversation-”

“I don’t want to talk with you,” D reiterated.

“You punched. The Head Preceptor. Of my house. In the face,” Rogier said like he was speaking to an idiot. Because he was! What’d D think would happen if he did something like that in Raya Lucaria? That he’d just continue on his merry way without having a little talk about it first? Rogier shoved himself to his feet and closed most of the distance between them, leaving D at arms’ length. From here he could see the pale eyes behind the mask and they were as angry as they had always looked. He could imaginethe scowl that was permanently carved on D’s mouth, as if everything he beheld was an affront to him, personally. “Do you have so little to say for yourself, Knight of the New Order, for surely this conduct does not reflect highly on your station?”

“Do you so enjoy lecturing you do it in your leisure time, too?” D muttered.

“Oh, leisure, you say? You think I enjoy this?”

“The way cats enjoy mice.”

“I had no intention of making this any more difficult than it needed to be-”

“Stop bloody lying for half a second of your miserable life,” D snapped.

Rogier clenched his teeth. “I am not lying. You aren’t worth the effort it takes.”

D’s eyes were furious. But he spat, “He’s sullying your name to strangers.”

The dizzying pace of their conversation suddenly ground to a halt. Rogier’s mind was reeling from the whiplash and he squinted at D in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The man I punched,” D said. “He implied-” D stopped and shifted his weight but kept his shoulders squared and his head high. “Unsavory behavior. On your part. To get where you are.”

Rogier stared at him, and was it suddenly quite warm in here? Was the world on fire, actually? Why was his face so hot? And oh but he was a wretch, truly pathetic, that someone defending him set his heart aflutter like a dying autumn leaf tossed to the uncaring breeze. It wasn’t that he was so incapable and helpless. He was born to nobility, of course he was used to politicking. And of course an academic life must be drenched in those politics he so despised. And of course he managed to tangle himself in them in the most foolhardy manner possible by spurning the head of his department. The idea of the faculty knowing anything about his personal life had mortified him to begin with, but he should have considered that before sleeping with and then violently severing all ties with his bloody boss.

But impulse control was something D had always had an iron grip on and Rogier could never grasp. So when he surged forward and shoved up that golden mask to capture the mouth behind it with his own, D was likely too startled to know what to do. And it was terribly immature, and brash, and stupid, and everything that Rogier did wrong on a regular basis yet somehow never learned from. D’s mouth was soft and warm and responsive, even if the rest of him was less so, still too stunned to react. This was senseless, a dog chasing its tail, a child babbling incoherently, moths chasing flames instead of moonlight, it was-

A knock at the door and the provost announced his arrival. Rogier drew away sharply and D was staring at him in shock, expression not unlike those of his students who panicked when called upon precisely because Rogier knew they had not been listening. It didn’t matter in the end. D would leave on his assignment, and Rogier would remain here at the Academy, and they could go back to studiously forgetting that the other one even existed. With that in mind, he allowed himself to admit, “I did lie.” He pulled D’s mask back down over his stunned face and held it by the chin. “I hate your plume.”

He turned to the door and set his features back to something pleasant and agreeable, but also adequately chastened and humbled, since the provost was bound to be terribly irritated that he even needed to have this meeting. Rogier greeted him with utmost professionalism as he opened the door to allow the venerable old man inside. His expression was distinctly displeased and he nodded a curt greeting as he swept in.

“I’ll make this brief,” the provost said, not even deigning to take a seat. D stood rigid and tense. “Your conduct with Head Preceptor Callium was most unbecoming, and it is only the seal of the Elden Lord upon your missive which has kept me from having you thrown from the Academy gates by a pair of knights.”

D bit out a quick apology, perfunctory and meaningless.

The old man sighed dismissively. “Fortunately, Callium’s nose will mend, but I am afraid lost trust takes a bit more time, which is not anything you have the luxury of since he was to set out for Leyndell with the others in a week’s time. I am sure your superiors will be thrilled to learn that, and so I’ll leave the reprimands to their capable hands, as my time is too precious for that. Our arrangement called for ten spellblades, and you have, whether knowingly or not, eliminated one of them from service by your own hand and so I have had to call for another.”

Oh. That certainly complicated this situation. D was going to have this unlucky sod as a living reminder of his brash and uncharacteristic behavior, which was likely to result in a black mark on his record upon his return to the Capital. Rogier pitied whatever fool they’d send in Callium’s place.

“Preceptor Rogier, I’m sending you in Callium’s place. Your courses will be divided among the faculty, so don’t worry over that.” Oh yes. That’s what he was worried about, wasn’t it? The lectures and poorly written essays he’d miss out on grading, not the dragon-sized elephant in the room that his miraculously stupid mouth kissed back into being. “You may wish to consult with each other about what preparations you ought to be making for this assignment. But do remember you are a representative of an esteemed Academy...not some ruffian out for a game of fisticuffs.” The last was aimed at D, who was undoubtedly as blindsided as Rogier and so totally oblivious.

Rogier smiled and graciously accepted the provost’s decision, all the while screaming internally and damning the stars for drawing the path of greatest resistance through the heavens the day he was born.

[wordsbyarwen]

i said i would be focusing on my current WIPs but lol, apparently February is the month of "distract everyone with Greek myths set in Hell." this one features Tissaia as Hades and Yen as Persephone (without the kidnapping).

i haven't touched the beginning but i've never in my life had so many headcanons develop and crawl out of so few paragraphs while actively writing them, so this was fun! what started as "the mages are the gods and use avatars to appear to their followers" became "i bet Tissaia thinks this whole situation is Rita's fault" (spoiler: it is)

anyway here is a little 500 word taste of worldbuilding and snarky tissaia+rita. as a treat. mostly for me.

Tissaia shook off the mantle of Hades like a winter cloak, rolling out her shoulders and tipping her head sideways. Even as she diminished in stature, her neck gave a satisfying pop of releasing tension. When she opened her eyes again, the view was much more familiar.

She hated being six inches taller in her own house, hated the idea that things could look so different from the perspective of someone who stood a head higher. In the mortal realm it was all well and good to present herself as an imposing figure - how imposing depended on her audience, her mood, and the day of the week - but she would always prefer the body she was born into for the day-to-day affairs of her court.

Sinking wearily onto her throne, she rested her forehead in an open palm for a long few moments, eyes closed. She was exhausted, but there was work to do that was far more exhausting yet.

Well. Perhaps she couldn’t rightly call it work, but she was determined to resolve the mystery of the mortal in her house, and she had a very good idea of where to start.

Composing herself, Tissaia lowered both hands to curl her fingers loosely against the arms of her throne. Her blue eyes flashed with fire and lightning and, lifting her head, her voice shook the very foundations of her throne room.

“APHRODITE!”

When the echoes of her voice died away and the room fell silent, she waited for the span of several long breaths. Then, rolling her eyes, she spoke again, this time as if she were addressing someone at the back of the room, her eyes still gleaming with power. “Do not ignore me, you great Olympian slattern; your stench is all over her.”

“My, my. Impatient, melodramatic, and charming as ever. I have work to do too, you know.”

The voice of the woman who strolled into Tissaia’s periphery was dark and rich as loam, her skin like raw umber. She was a little taller than the version of Hades Tissaia wore in her own home, busty, and broad in shoulder and hip. Her lips, glossy and dark, were curled into a smile, and her hair was twisted into locs broader than Tissaia’s thumb and piled high atop her head in an intricate display.

Most gods chose a form and maintained it - sometimes the body they were born into, sometimes a preferred avatar. For some, transitioning was easier than others. Tissaia had always resisted change herself, found the act rather more taxing as a result.

But Aphrodite - Rita - had a face for every occasion and every audience, so many that Tissaia had forgotten what the woman rightly looked like. She supposed it didn’t matter.

The body she presented herself with today was one Tissaia had not seen in a while, but it was as lovely as any Rita had chosen and equally on display: bare arms, dramatic neckline, skirts that were sheer in places and barely opaque enough for modesty in others.

“What is it this time, then?” Tissaia asked as Rita moved to stand in front of her, hands on hips, expression smouldering. “Seducing pretty boys, or starting wars over pretty girls?”