#but it could as well exist. i might make it

[angstywaifu]

Priority - Garrick Tavis

Anonymous Request: reader would get frustrated with garrick loyalty to xaden (hence protecting violet) and it gets all angsty because hey a girl gets insecure and she’s like “when push come to shove and its my life vs xaden, hell even violet, i don’t know if its my life you’d be saving”, but garrick redeems himself!

Masterlist | Support Me

I storm past Garrick, continuing down the hallway in the sea of riders heading to formation. I was sick of being second to Xaden and essentially Violet. So many times he had brushed me aside or left me behind because of them. Just once I wanted to feel like a priority to him. Something I hadn’t felt since Violet had bonded Tairn, putting Xaden on high alert. Which by extension, meant Garrick. I hear him calling out behind me, but I don’t turn to acknowledge him. We were under attack. And the first thing he had done is rush out of the room to get Xaden and Violet. Leaving me alone in the room to get ready.

I make it to the courtyard before Garrick makes it to me, his hand grabbing my arm to turn me around to face him. “I was calling out to you.” He tells me with a pointed stare.

I shrug my arm out of his grasp, taking a step back to get some distance from him. “I know, I could hear you.” I tell him sternly as I cross my arms over my chest.

”What’s gotten into you?” He says with a scoff.

”What’s gotten into me? Oh I don’t know, maybe I’ve finally had it with being second best to Xaden and Violet the last few months. Maybe I’ve finally had it with being so low down on your priority list that I feel like I barely exist to you any more.”

”That’s not true.” His gaze softening at my words.

”Is it? Because I’m starting to feel like when push comes to shove and it was my life vs Xaden’s, hell even Violet’s, I don’t even know if it’s my life you’d choose anymore.” I spit out at him.

Garrick just stares at me in shock, clearly not expecting me to say something like that. We kept our relationship behind closed doors, but never once had I felt like I wasn’t cared for or loved by him. But since October it had just gotten worse and worse.

”If she dies, Xaden di-”

”I am well the fuck aware what happens if she dies. We all are Garrick. We’re all looking out for them. None of us want to loose Xaden.” I nearly yell at him, causing him to flinch. “But you might have just lost me in the process.”

I turn and head into formation, not wanting to hear what else he has to say. I was getting to the point of anger where I was going to say something I’d regret or go too far. Though I might have just gone too far. I knew how close Xaden and Garrick were. Always have. But this was the first time since we’d gotten together that I had felt like this. And now I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just put the nail in the coffin of our relationship.

We were overwhelmed. Buildings were collapsing, people screaming as they tried to flee to safety. I was honestly starting to think we weren’t going to make it. We’d already lost two to the onslaught. Loud screams to my right startle me, but I have no time to react as a wall of people slam into me, knocking me to the ground.

My ears ring from the contact, amplified by the shoes that kick my head on their way past. All of them too scared to realise they’ve knocked me to the ground. I can barely register my dragon yelling in my head, unable to make out the words they throw down the bond as I try to get back to my feet. I manage to get onto my hands and knees before another shoe meets my head. My dragon continues to yell at me down the bond. I can feel their fear, panic and worry. But I still can’t make out the words they throw at me.

I push myself up again, this time being successful due to the crowd all dissipating. All but one. In the distance down the end of the street, I can just make out a blurry figure clad in robes billowing in the wind. My vision spins as I try to focus on them, my head throbbing from the effort. Shit. I’m concussed. But something tells me I need to move. Need to get to my feet and get out. But I can’t.

I try to focus on the figure again. A figure that’s much brighter in colour to their surroundings. As if the colour has drained from everything around them. I watch as the muted colours get closer and closer to me by the second. I try to stand, but my legs crumble, sending me back to the ground. I need to move, or I’m dead. I try again, grasping onto a nearby wall to try pull myself up. But my hand slips, sending me back to the ground as I cry out in pain. I roll to my side, this time the figure much clearer now my vision isn’t blurry. Watching as the Venin channels from the ground. Watching as it gets closer and closer. I have probably thirty seconds till I meet my end. Thirty seconds left and my last words to him were becoming true in more ways than one. And now I have no way to tell him I’m sorry before I’m gone. I’ll never get to take back those words.

I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to watch when my end will come. But they fly open when I’m pulled from the ground. I look up and see Garrick pulling me into his arms before turning and running us down the street towards Chradh who angles his leg for Garrick. Garrick doesn’t miss a beat as he runs up the makeshift ramp, holding me in his lap as he takes his seat and Chradh launches into the air.

The wind howls around us as Chradh beats his wings, propelling us higher above the chaos below as his magic washes over Garrick and I, securing us in place. I clutch onto Garrick’s flight jacket barely registering the warmth of his body through my haze of pain and fear. My head throbs with each pulse of my heart, and my vision swims, but I can’t tear my eyes away from his face. His jaw is clenched tight, his brows furrowed in concentration as he manoeuvres us out of danger.

"Garrick," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the rush of wind.

His eyes snap down to mine, and for a moment, the icy walls of detachment he’s built around himself crumble. There’s something raw in his expression. Fear, anger, relief, and something deeper that I can’t quite name.

"I thought..." My voice cracks, and I swallow hard. "I thought you didn’t care anymore."

He lets out a harsh, humourless laugh, his grip tightening around me. "Don’t care? Is that what you think? That you’re second to Xaden and Violet?" His voice breaks on Violet’s name, and his gaze darkens. "They’re my responsibility. My duty. But you—" He exhales sharply, his eyes glinting with something that looks almost like desperation. "You’re my everything. And if you ever doubt that again, I’ll—"

"You’ll what?" I manage to croak, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite the pain.

"I’ll never forgive myself," he finishes, his voice dropping to a whisper. He presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin. "You think I could survive losing you? You think I’d want to?"

I blink up at him, my heart twisting at the raw vulnerability in his voice. I’ve never seen him like this, so unguarded, so human. For all his stoicism and sharp edges, Garrick is breaking right in front of me, and it’s because of me.

"I’m sorry," I murmur, reaching up to brush my fingers against his jaw. "I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it."

He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch as if it’s the only thing grounding him. "Just don’t scare me like that again," he says softly. "Please."

Chradh lets out a low growl, drawing our attention back to the chaos below. Garrick straightens, his grip on me tightening as his eyes scan the battlefield. "We’re not out of this yet," he says grimly.

I nod, forcing myself to sit up despite the pounding in my head. "I’m with you," I say, my voice steadier now.

Garrick glances down at me, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. "Always," he says.

[insidekatmind]

Bunny-Jude Bellingham

Wearning:+18,smut

It was a quiet evening in Madrid. The city sparkled under the night lights, but inside your home, the atmosphere was cozy and intimate. Jude was sitting on the couch, remote in hand, looking for something interesting to watch. You, on the other hand, were strolling around the living room with a playful smile, wearing a short black dress and a headband with bunny ears that you had found as a joke in the wardrobe.

“What do you think?” you asked with a little grin, spinning slowly to show off your look.

Jude glanced up from the TV and was momentarily speechless. Then, that smile of his— the one that always made you melt— spread across his face. "I didn’t think you could make such a simple accessory look so... irresistible," he said playfully, though his eyes betrayed how much he truly liked it.

You walked over to him and perched on the armrest of the couch, playing with a strand of his hair. "Were you watching something interesting, or did I distract you?"

He laughed and reached out to gently grab your waist. "Distract me? Absolutely. But I’m not complaining."

He pulled you onto his lap and held you close, while you laughed gleefully. The connection between you filled the room, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

You smile on his lap and show more of the cleavage of your dress. "so you like it?" You murmur seductively touching his muscular shoulders with feigned innocence.

He responds with an almost primal low growl, his hand slowly trailing up your leg. "I love it. You wear it so well."Jude can feel the heat rising in his body and the subtle shift in the air around him, as he tries to contain the desire slowly building up inside of him. His hands explore your torso, gently caressing your bare skin."But it might be a bit distracting," he whispers, his voice hoarse with lust. "I was trying to watch something, after all."

You smile as you continue to caress his shoulders. “I'm much more interesting than a stupid movie, don't you think?” you say in a cheesy and seductive voice. Jude laughs softly and pulls you closer, his hand going around your waist to bring you flush against his chest. He can feel the warmth of your breath, and the subtle scent of your perfume driving him crazy.

"There’s no contest," he murmurs, kissing your neck. "You're the most interesting thing in this room without even trying."

You smile and nibble his earlobe playfully. "You know Jude I wanted to wear this dress for the masquerade party that my friend had organized" you say teasing him. "But I prefer to do something else" you continue to say, teasing him.

His gaze darkens with desire as you nibble on his earlobe. He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you even closer. Your teasing tone is driving him wild, and he can feel the heat building up inside him, his control slowly slipping away."Oh really?" he responds with a hint of jealousy in his voice. He runs his hands shamelessly down your back, enjoying the feeling of your bare skin. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"

You smile feeling his hands on your ass and bite your lip looking at him. “I was thinking that I rarely do a striptease for you,” you say, teasing him as you mischievously adjust the neckline of your dress. His hands squeeze your ass appreciatively as you bite your lip. The sight of you teasingly adjusting your neckline is almost too much for him to handle, and he can’t help but imagine the striptease you’re talking about."Is that so?” he responds in a low growl. “I’m a little disappointed that you haven’t done one for me yet."

You smiled and sucked on his lip as you still felt his hands on your ass. “let me make it up to you darling” you murmur seductively kissing his jaw.

He moans softly as you suck on his lip, his need for you growing with every second. Your seductive whisper and the feel of your lips on his jaw send shivers down his spine."Yes please,” he breathes huskily. "Please make it up to me. I don’t think I can hold back much longer."

You smiled and stood up from him, taking his hand and dragging him into your room as you moved sensually and seductively, putting your body on full display for him. He follows you willingly, his eyes roving over your body as you move, drinking in every inch of you. There’s an edge of desire in his gaze, raw and unfiltered. He wants you, badly, and it shows.

Once in your room, Jude closes the door behind him and looks at you intently as you saunter further into the room. "You’re driving me crazy,” he breathes. "Teasing me like this."You gasped in excitement feeling Jude's hands on your ass as he nibbled on your neck. “You're a bad bunny,” he whispers in your ear and you bite your lip excitedly.

His hands on your ass feel like a brand, leaving hot, possessive marks on your skin. You moan softly as he nibbles on your neck, the combination of pleasure and slight pain driving you wild. "Is that a promise or a threat," you respond breathlessly. "To punish this naughty bunny," you tease in a provocative tone.

Jude turns you around, his grip on your body firm and authoritative. He pins you against the wall, his eyes darkened with a dangerous need."Don’t act like you don’t want it," he whispers, his voice filled with a subtle warning. "You’re practically begging to be punished, aren’t you, bunny?"

You smile and lick his cheek and Jude laughs humorlessly and slaps your ass hard making you moan. “Do you really want me to ruin yourself with my cock, yes?” Jude murmurs without letting go of his ass with his hands. You gasp and moan shamelessly as he slaps your behind, the sharp pain only serving to heighten your excitement. You feel completely at his mercy, a slave to the growing heat between the two of you.

"Yes,” you breathe, your voice trembling with need. "Yes, god, I want it. I need you, Jude. Make me yours." Jude smiled and gave your ass another squeeze. “Undress and give me a nice striptease,” he orders, looking at you.

You nod breathlessly and slowly start to tease him by getting rid of your dress, taking your time, enjoying how his eyes roam over your body. The anticipation in the air is thick, and you know he's enjoying every second of this. "You'd like it, wouldn’t you,” you murmur, seductively rolling the dress over your hips. “To watch me, naked and ready for you."

Jude can barely keep his hands off of you as you slowly unveil your body. He's staring impatiently, his lips slightly parted, as you continue to tease him. "You're driving me insane," he growls lowly, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily. "I want you, now." You know better than to make him wait, so you continue your striptease more quickly, discarding what's left of your dress.

“How badly do you want me?” you ask, your voice dripping with a mixture of sultriness and tease. “Enough to lose control, Jude?” He grabs you by the arms and pulls you against him, his hands roaming possessively over your body. He's holding himself back, his self-restraint hanging by a thread.

"You have no idea," he whispers, his voice rough and strained. "No idea how badly I want you, darling. And you're about to find out how much I can lose control.” Jude looks at you and bites your lip making you moan. "get on all fours on the bed" Jude orders you.

You shiver at the commanding tone in his voice, and your body responds instantly to his order. You get on all fours on the bed, feeling incredibly vulnerable and yet, completely excited."Like this?" you ask, looking over your shoulder with a mix of shyness and anticipation.

He smiles as he comes closer and slaps your ass. "yes bunny". You gasp at the slap, feeling the heat of his hand against your skin. The pleasure of his touch is mixed with a hint of dominance, and you feel completely at his mercy.

"Yes,” you respond obediently, your voice quivering. "Whatever you want, Jude." He watches you with a mixture of desire and satisfaction, enjoying the submissive position you're in. His hand goes to your hair and he grabs a handful, pulling you closer to him.

"That's right, darling. I'm going to do whatever I want with you tonight," he whispers huskily. "And you're going to love it." His other hand moves to your hip, positioning you just where he wants you. You can feel his breath on your skin, his body pressed close against yours, and your excitement grows as you realize just how much he's in control.

"Do you trust me, bunny?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. You nod, feeling your heart pound in your chest. There's no hesitation in your response. "Yes," you breathe, your voice filled with a mix of desire and submission. "I trust you completely Jude.“

A satisfied smile spreads across his lips as he hears your response. He knew you would trust him completely, and that trust only makes him want you even more. "Good girl," he murmurs, his hand tracing along the curve of your spine. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

Jude unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his boxers, taking his cock in his hand and grinding against your ass. "You can swear I'll ruin you tonight" Jude murmurs near your ear. Hearing his words and his cock pressed against your ass you moan.

He enters you in one thrust making you bend over the bed and making you moan. Jude places a tighter hand around your waist to keep you from moving. You gasp and moan loudly as he enters you, the pleasure and surprise sending shockwaves through your body. You feel completely filled, and yet, completely at his mercy.

"God,” you manage to gasp. "Jude, that’s… that’s so…”You're unable to continue as he keeps you still, his grip on your waist firm.

Jude groans and pushes himself harder into you, slapping your ass every now and then. “You take it so well, bunny,” Jude murmurs, grunting. You respond with a guttural moan, the mix of pleasure and pain driving you wild. You can feel his every movement, and it’s making you lose your mind. “You feel so good," you gasp. "So good. I can’t… I can’t get enough of you."

Jude grabs a handful of your hair making you arch up for more. “Do you like taking my cock rough, yes bunny?” Jude says purring near your ear. You whimper and arch your back, your body responding to every little thing he does. His words, his voice, his grip on your hair, it's all driving you insane with desire.

“Yes, god yes," you manage to reply. "I love it, Jude. You know I do. I want you, any way I can have you." He smiles smugly, hearing your words. He loves how much you want him, how much you need him. It only fuels his desire, his need to claim you as his. He pulls your hair harder, the pleasure of being rough with you mixed with a possessive need.

"That's right. You are mine, aren’t you?" he growls. "All mine. And I'm going to give you everything you want, bunny." You moan loudly, the combination of pleasure and surrender making you dizzy. You feel completely under his control, and yet, you love every second of it.

“Yours," you breathe, your voice quivering with need. "All yours. Completely and utterly yours, Jude. Please—"you moan.

Jude groans at your pleas and pushes himself even faster slapping your ass. “So needy bunny” he murmurs nipping at your neck. You gasp at the onslaught of pleasure, your body consumed with need. His words and his touch drive you crazy, leaving you on the edge of ecstasy.

"God, yes," you manage to gasp. "So needy, just for you. I can’t help it. You make me want things I never knew I needed." He smiles again, knowing that he has you completely at his mercy. He loves how much you want him, how you give yourself to him so willingly.

"And I'll give you everything you need, darling,” he purrs, his voice rough with desire. "Everything. I’ll give you everything I have to give, and then some." You moan, your body trembling with pleasure. His words only make you want him more, his promises of everything to give and more, fueling the fire inside you.

“Please,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “More, please. I need more. I need all of you.” He grins and grips your hips possessively as he fucks you quickly. In the room you can only hear your skin meeting and your screams. The sounds of your bodies meeting echoed in the room, adding to the primal atmosphere. You can feel the intensity of his desire, and it's driving you to the edge. Your scream fill the air, your body completely lost in the moment.

“God, Jude,” you gasp. “You make me feel so good, so wanted. I don’t ever want you to stop.”

Jude moans and grabs your neck making you dizzy kissing you as you continue to fuck yourself. Your body responds to his touch, and your mind is a whirlwind of sensation and pleasure. His kiss is dizzying, adding to the feeling of being completely consumed by him. "Yes," you gasp between kisses. "Don't stop. Don't ever stop, please."

Jude sucks your lip before spitting in your mouth. “So sexy bunny and all mine” he murmurs grunting as his thrusts into you became harder and harder. You feel a wave of heat wash over you as he claims you as his own. The mixture of desire and possessiveness in his voice makes you feel dizzy with pleasure. You moan against his mouth, the taste of him mixing with the feeling of him inside you driving you wild.

"Yours," you murmur against his lips. "Completely yours, Jude. I'm all yours." He groans in satisfaction, feeling your submission to him, your acceptance of being his. It only fuels his desire, his need to claim you even more.

"And I'm all yours, darling," he whispers husky. "You've got me completely wrapped around your fingers. I’m yours for the taking, however you want me."You moan at his words and hold onto him as you come. After two more hard thrusts he comes inside you.

He nips at your neck and pulls out, laying down on the bed making you straddle him. “oh bunny, don’t think I’m done with you” he says aligning himself with your slit. “you ride my cock like the good girl you are to me” he murmurs looking at you hungrily.

You gasp and shiver at his words, feeling your body respond to his commands. The mixture of pleasure and anticipation makes your head spin. “Yes, Jude,” you breathless. “I’ll do anything you ask. Anything.”

He slaps your ass while his free hand moved your hip making you ride his cock. "Good girl," he murmurs. You moan loudly, feeling completely enveloped in pleasure. His words and his hands on your body, guiding you, make you feel completely helpless against his touch. “Yes,” you gasp. “I’ll be a good girl for you, Jude. I’ll do anything you want me to do."

He smiles, satisfied with your submission. Your body is completely his, completely at his mercy, and he loves it. Jude continues to guide you, his hands on your hips, his eyes on your face, watching you as you pleasure him. “You look so beautiful like this, bunny,” he whispers. "So beautiful, so submissive. You’re all mine, aren’t you?” he hums giving you another slap on your ass as he pushed his cock into you making you moan.

“Yes, all for you” you say riding faster moaning, rolling your eyes from too much pleasure. You ride him eagerly, your hips moving against his, seeking more and more of his touch. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, and you feel yourself losing control. “G-God,” you gasp. “That feels so good, Jude. You make me feel so good. Don’t stop, please”.

His eyes, darkened with lust, never leave your face, taking in every expression, every gasp, every little thing that tell him how much you are enjoying this. “You’re so beautiful like this, darling,” he mutters, his voice rough with desire. “So completely mine.” You cry out in pleasure, riding faster and moaning.

“Yes, that’s it,” he encourages, one of his hands sliding up your body to your neck. He applies a gentle but firm pressure. You moan feeling his hand on your neck and you roll your eyes again in pleasure, moaning loudly.

He smiles as he sees you fall apart in pleasure, taking pleasure in the effect he has on you. He wants to see you lost in ecstasy, completely undone because of him. “That’s it, bunny,” he mutters, increasing the pressure on your neck slightly. “Let go, let me see how I make you feel.”

You whimper instinctively, the mixture of pleasure and pressure on your neck making you feel even more dizzy. You're completely lost in the moment, completely at his mercy. The only thing that matters is doing everything he wants you to do. “Yes,” you manage to whimper. “Please, more. Make me feel more.”

He knows what you’re asking for, and he’s more than happy to give it to you. He increases the pressure on your neck just enough to make you gasp, his eyes darkened with lust, watching every expression on your face. “Like this, darling?” he whispers huskily. "Is this what you want from me?“

You can barely speak, lost in the pleasure and heat of the moment. But you manage a weak nod, your eyes pleading with him to give you more. “Yes,” you gasp again, your voice a broken whisper. “Yes, please. More. Give me more.“

He smiles again, loving how much you want him, how much you need him. He tightens the grip around your neck just a little more, the pressure increasing the pleasure you’re feeling. “You like that, bunny?” he purrs. “You like being mine, completely and utterly mine? Letting me do whatever I want with you?“

You can only respond with a strangled moan, lost in the pleasure and desire he makes you feel. You want more, you need more, you want him to push you to the edge and keep you there. “Yes, Jude,” you gasp, your voice a hoarse whisper. “Yours. All yours. Forever. Do whatever you want with me, anything you want.“

You moan and bounce more, screaming in pleasure. “Jude I'm cumming” you say, your voice laced with pleasure. He grins, loving the sound of your pleasure. Your words and your screams are like music to his ears, and he wants to hear you scream his name even more. “Yes, bunny, that’s it,” he growls, gripping your hip. "Let go for me. I want to hear you” he said.

“Come for me, bunny,” he whispers, leaning forward to brush his lips against your neck. "Come for me, I want to see you completely undone because of me.“You wail in ecstasy, the mixture of the pressure on your neck, his voice, and the feeling of him inside you pushing you over the edge. "Jude," you gasp, your body shaking with pleasure. "Jude, oh my god” you scream.

"Yes," he mutters, his voice rough with desire. "That's it, darling. Let me see how good I can make you feel."He continues to hold onto your neck, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you right on the edge, prolonging your pleasure as long as possible.

You moaned and bounced harder on him, riding him as you rested your hands on his shoulders.”YES,YES,YES,YES” you screamed coming on top of him. He grins, loving the sounds of your pleasure. You look beautiful on top of him, completely lost in the moment, completely his.

“That’s it, bunny,” he encourages, still holding onto your neck. “Scream for me, scream my name." You can't help but follow his command, your body and mind completely surrendered to him. Your screams fill the room, his name leaving your lips like a mantra. You’re completely lost in the pleasure and ecstasy he's giving you.

“Jude,” you gasp, your voice hoarse. “Jude, I… I can’t…“. Jude grunts and comes into you again, pinning your hips to keep you from moving.

"Yes," he gasps, his voice tight with pleasure. "That's it, bunny. Take it all. I want to fill you up." He holds you down on him, keeping you in place, his eyes locked on your face. He wants to see every expression, every shiver,every little breath.

You moan feeling his cum inside you and close your eyes keeping your hands resting on his chest, breathing deeply and smiling satisfied. He smiles too, loving the sight of you, completely undone on top of him. You look sexy and wrecked, and he can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction and possessiveness. "You're mine," he mutters, his hands still on your hips, his eyes locked on yours. "All mine, darling."

He leans forward, brushing his lips against your neck and planting soft kisses along your collarbone. "I hope you know that, bunny," he whispers, his voice still hoarse with pleasure. "You're mine, and I'm never letting you go."

You smile leaning against him, on his chest. “I love you Jude,” you say in a low voice, laced with pleasure. His heart skips a beat as you say those words, his heart full of love and satisfaction. He loves hearing you say it, loves knowing that you belong to him.

“I love you too, bunny,” he whispers, his arms wrapping around you in a possessive embrace. “More than you can imagine.”

[remstrrs]

Stranger Things VR and How it Portrays Byler/Elmax VS Milven

I wanted to make this post bc I haven't seen the ST VR game discussed on here much at all, especially in terms of it's Byler/Elmax content, and I think some people weren't even aware of it's existence!

In short, the game consists of nine chapters which switch through different time periods from 1979 to 1986, and contain the perspectives of multiple characters, including Henry/001/Vecna (mainly), Will, Billy, and El. The chapters all focus on how Vecna is influencing the characters or vice versa.

Although all of the chapters have very interesting lore woven into them, in this post im going to focus in on chapters 3 and 4 (which are more Will centric) and chapter 9 (which is El centric).

Chapter 3: The Possession of Will Byers

Chapter three opens with us as Will in November of 1984 while he slowly becomes possessed by Vecna. Vecna begins tormenting him in his mind, which prompts Will to attempt to focus on a good memory. He ends up at Castle Byers with Mike.

Mike talks to Will for a couple moments, but soon, Will's mind goes back into Upside Down hallucinations.

The player cycles through multiple hallucinations in which Vecna taunts Will and tells him his friends see him as a freak, while also tormenting him with visions of the demogorgon. This continues until Vecna tells him that he'll show Will "how miserable he really is"

We then cut to another memory/hallucination (it's slightly unclear, and i believe that's the point) where Mike tells Will that El is "different from anyone" Mike's ever met, and tells Will he wouldn't get it because he's never liked anyone. Then, we get this heartbreaking dialogue that lowkey makes me want to cry (all lines are Vecna speaking to Will):

Obviously, Will's feelings towards Mike are already canonical, but this gives us even more confirmation that these feelings root back all the way to at least mid-season 2. Also, we do get more of a look into Will's POV on El before he met her, which is a little bit upsetting :(

Then, Vecna taunts Will more by telling him that he understands him the most out of everyone, and we cut to Ch4.

Chapter 4: The Spy

Chapter 4 also takes place in November of 1984, but it's main premise is Vecna attempting to take hold of each of the party members' minds by taunting them with their fears.

He fails in taking hold of Dustin, Lucas, and Mike's minds, as they have been made too strong by the events of season one, but manages to weaken Will's mind enough to be let in.

I'd like to point out, though, that the main fear Mike is taunted with is losing El, and never knowing what "could've been" between them-

But when Vecna breaks into Will's mind, he specifically asks him what Mike is afraid of. It's as if he doesn't know because taunting him about his relationship with El couldn't reach him. Keep in mind that he also failed to break into Lucas and Dustin's minds, but it was only Mike's fears that he asks Will about.

Shortly after, Will's nose starts bleeding and Mike immediately notices and uses Nancy's shirt (lmao) to go up to him and stop the bleeding.

At this point, we reenter Will's mind, where Vecna is throwing all sorts of taunts at him, and telling him that his friends have outgrown him, and that "he'll finally matter to someone" (i assume this is referring to him potentially joining Vecna, but it's an interesting detail). However, Will is able to break free of Vecna's control by paying attention to Mike, who is tending to his bloody nose and taking care of him.

I do believe that it means something that a lot of post s4 content focuses in on Will's relationship with Mike, and, knowing that Will could experience possession in season 5, it sets up an interesting dynamic by giving us even more examples of Mike being the only one able to get through to Will.

Now, you might be asking, "well, Will's chapters are very focused on his relationship with Mike in particular, so El's probably is as well, right?"

Well, you'd be wrong!

Chapter 9: The Resurrection of Mad Max

Firstly, i want to start of by saying that while chapter 8 is also El POV, it only covers her origins with 001, and covers already mostly known info, so I decided to focus in more on chapter 9 instead.

Ch9 takes place in March of 1986, and we open immediately with the scene in which Max gets put into her coma. Vecna speaks to El and blames her for this, but El tells him that she won't let him take Max.

We then get an expansion of the S4 scene where El goes into Max's mind, cycling through different memories there while Vecna continues to taunt her.

In this sequence, one of the most interesting lines in my opinion is this one:

"You chose her"

Here, we get more evidence that Max is El's most important relationship. Max is El's person.

Throughout both El-centric chapters, Mike is mentioned only a couple times in passing.

Finally, and maybe most importantly, is an almost perfect parallel to Mike's speech to El, but this time it's from Max:

Max brings up the first time her and El met, just like Mike did in his speech. However, while Mike blatantly lies and tells El it was love at first sight, Max is honest. Even though their first meeting wasn't pleasant, she recalls it truthfully.

Then, we get this parallel, which I think is insane:

In Mike's speech, he tells El that she's his superhero, which is one of their main points of argument earlier in the season- El doesn't want to always be the superhero, she doesn't want to be placed on a pedestal, but Mike doesn't quite understand that. Max, however, tells El that she likes her just as herself - that she's human, and doesn't constantly have to fit that role that she's been put into.

Max knows exactly what El needs to hear, and their bond is more important to El than her bond with Mike, which is why Mike is not a key character in her story in this game (and wont be in s5). Will needs Mike, and it's Mike's care for him that pulls Will out of his visions and nightmares - which is why Mike is a part of Will's storyline in s5 (and will be in s5).

Max is El's person, and Mike is Will's person. Ty.

[inositol5dtimemachine]

I'm thinking about that link between impulse control problems, money, crime, and inability to live in a house in a low crime area.

On one hand, reducing the link may increase crime in those areas. On the other, increasing the link may increase housing shortages and homelessness.

But could you maintain the link at the same level, between either crime and exclusion from living in a house in a low crime area, or impulse control problems and exclusion from living in a house in a low crime area, while removing money from the link? E.g. some area says no one that has committed a certain type of crime can own or rent in this suburb. Or no one who hasn't proved their impulse control by earning a university degree (not sure if that's a good measure of impulse control, also it could be very wasteful itself).

To maintain the link at the same level, you'd need to allow low impulse control people (including children) to live in these areas at a similar rate as they can now, and visit their high impulse control friends.

Also to maintain the link at the same level, don't have too many areas have high restrictions like that - maybe there could be different levels of restrictions, like there are different levels of housing price.

I'm also thinking about how opposition to public transport in a local area functions in a similar way - by excluding people who can't drive, they're hoping to exclude criminals without cars and/or unattended low impulse control children, so they can't come and commit crime (and maybe escape afterwards). But they're also excluding drunk people who choose not to drive, older people, disabled people, and others. (Well, drunk people might be risky too - but less so than if they choose to drive).

Is there a crime-neutral way to keep some public transport for everyone who currently has it, but also let safer people travel more places without driving? Especially for older people and disabled people, and for drunk people travelling to their own homes. But I think it could be good for many children too, and for people who could drive but prefer not to.

Both of these are kind of tracking the "good people" and the "bad people" and making sure to treat them differently, I'm a bit wary of that, because it could be overly harsh, it could be abused, and it could be too inaccurate. But the existing systems kind of suck in their own way. They also just seem totally unrealistic but I'm not sure why. Maybe because they'd take a lot of coordination to set up. Maybe because nobody wants crime-neutral. Maybe because the people-tracking and control seems too dangerous.

It's really weird to me when people claim we need like an armed revolution to fix housing in the US. Like, sure, maybe, but surely we should like...try allowing people to build housing in cities first? In large swathes of every major American city, it is literally illegal to build denser housing!

[homeofhousechickens]

Can I talk about something serious. I want to talk about some shared trauma I think me and some of the people in my askbox might share.

If you have experienced something similar feel free to give your thoughts.

Content warning for animal death and child and animal abuse.

I see a lot of people who say they couldn't raise an animal and eat it because they have this horrible memory where their family got them a pet or maybe they just got really attached to a specific farm animal that was or wasnt destined to be killed then at a later date their family either kills the animal in a traumatic inhumane fashion and makes the kid eat it or they sneakily cull the animal then feed it to the kid then go "haha your eating your friend" (horrific to do that to someone btw)

I'm not talking about meat chickens that you named and knew where going to be eaten either but it's also ok if that made you sad as well. It should make you sad it's normal.

What im talking about is when you have a favorite cow and your family knows this, then they go out into the field and shoot her in the head because you backed talk them. Or maybe you're really attached to a specific rabbit, you name it, and your family says you can keep it till one day your family gets mad at you so they cull it and make you eat it.

I want to say that your experience is awful and that you were abused. You are justified in feeling hurt and your trauma is valid.

The sad fact of the matter is your family didn't do that to teach you about death or your food or whatever. It is likely your family did that because they want wanted to cause you emotional pain on purpose. That's why the event usually happens after a bad grade or a you misbehaved a bit. Of course it can come out of nowhere as well because someone was feeling bored and wanted to teach you a "lesson".

There is no excuse for what they did to you, it was cruel.

This has nothing to do with farming or with livestock. I have realized it isn't uncommon for people who went through that to then decide all farmers are evil animal abusers who kill animals on a whim.

Unfortunately abusers exist in all facets of life. If it wasn't your pet horse/goat/cow/ect they likely would have constructed a situation where they could have traumatized you with some other animal if you were the type of child to get attached to animals.

I'm really sorry about this stuff. It doesn't really matter what animal it was either because this happens to all sorts of people from different backgrounds. Maybe your mom threw bleach in your fish tank, for example. It's all still pretty horrific abuse.

What Im getting at is that you're valid in feeling uncomfortable about death and raising animals for food. It just doesn't make the people doing those things evil or the same as your abusers.

To me raising my animals is just the part of the circle of life, which is something I think a lot of people are really far removed from. I help raise something, i treat it very well, and when the time comes i give them a quick and humane death. I never cull something when I'm feeling emotional or angry. I just extremely grateful and thankful for the animal and what it has done for me and will continue to do for me even in death. I think that's beautiful and nothing like the horrible "lesson" that so many others were taught.

[loveandleases]

Guess who's here with another AU ask??? 👀

Supernatural scenario: The ROs are perhaps bounty hunters or just a simple fantasy character and, somehow, they are 'bonded' to a vampiric or demonic MC who is just...CHOOSING to stay with them (cheekily or affectionately soff, I leave that for you to decide!). How would they handle it and what would change once they hit that rela stage?

(I actually have about 3 more questions, but I wanna make sure you don't get overwhelmed! 💜)

Also, can totally picture MC being demonic or vampiric due to being sold to the supernatural at a very young age by their parents to protect Jade - sorry for le dark headcanon 🤣

Ally~ 😃 You're making me want to work on... the thing. Nothing like some supernatural fun. (totally imagining a monster au similar to a certain vn 😉) (The amount of world building I did for each of these... I"m going to have to write these at some point I think.)

❤️ Cam - (Of course it turns him on.) (Hunter/Vampire)

He became a hunter to protect MC—an inside-man kind of deal. To join the hunters, Cam had to become bonded to a vampire, and who better than his bestie?

Pre-Relationship Stage:

It’s always been this way—an unspoken co-dependency. Cam is shunned by other hunters, who see MC as nothing more than a killer, a tool. But because they’re friends, he keeps his emotions in check, pushing down his feelings and curiosities. To a point. That breaking point? Learning that some of the 'approved' blood MC drinks come straight from the source. (jealous lil guy)

Relationship Stage:

“No sucking” from anyone else. Period. That is problematic, considering the hunters still expect MC to feed. But the rules the hunters made to maintain some separation (aka no drinking from the person you're bonded to) were thrown out the window. Why shouldn’t they be? Cam offers himself on a silver platter—pain or no pain. (whimpering mess)

Given that his blood strengthens their bond, heightening everything: their emotions, their strength, even Cam’s life itself. He’s more protective, observant, clingy—and completely unapologetic about it. He reeks of MC and doesn’t care. Ask him to step in front of a stake. He’s already there.

💙 G - Long gone are the days of cleric G. Somehow, they've moved onto Necromancy. (I blame Emmrich Volkarin.) Plus, the amount of longing. 🫦They didn't imagine being tied to anyone, especially not a damn demon. It takes a certain level of control to use their magic. They raise the dead, command spirits, bend life and death to their will. Fate might have been involved, at least that's what they say. The one time G goes against the plans laid out for them, this happens. They tried to banish MC… and ended up bonded instead. 🙄I'm not saying someone performed a poorly worded ritual...

Pre-Relationship Stage: There was a freedom before, even though G had to obey the Necromancy Guild's order. They were left to themselves. Yeah, that's out the damn window. Their is a tether between them now, an unexplainable connection. Who knew a demon would be breaking down G's well planned barrier. They could leave, but for some reason, they don't. So, reluctantly, G lets them in. Who knew a Necromancer and a demon could have a good friendship? Though they do argue... a lot. MC has a well of knowledge they just want to share.

Relationship Stage: It was a slow process to get to the realization that there was something more there. They touched everything within each other. A lifeline. G's magic pulled from MC's very existence. And MC's existence pulled from G. Each kiss felt as if they were swallowing one another whole, but they weren't they were just melding into one another. G was making MC's existence permanent, and MC was making G human. They made G feel things they couldn't dream of, nor conjure up.

Before G hid behind a well thought out mask, even when they were affected by their emotions they could hide it. But not now, not around MC. They could feel each other's emotions, each other's very breath of life. And when they were close to one another, they could feel it as if it was a flame being stoked.

💚 Kara - (Different type of vamp bonding.) It began as a night meant for fun, a little indulgence, and a taste of danger. What started as a (blood) drunken kiss quickly escalated when Kara’s curiosity got the better of her. She’d always wondered—what would fangs against her skin feel like? Would it hurt, or would it thrill? Neither she nor MC were aware of what came next. The bond was accidental, a tether neither of them sought nor understood.

Pre-Relationship Stage: They weren't strangers, but their connection was surface-level - a mix of camaraderie and flirtation. Devoid of true depth. To be bonded to someone you're hiding secrets from, or choose not to admit a crush about, it's hell. MC could feel her emotions, each little time she tells a white lie there's an undercurrent, a change in her scent that just gives her away. It left her vulnerable. The bond forced her to confront a part of herself she'd long buried. She wasn't used to being truly seen. Always just an extra - the fleeting face people desired for a night but forgot by morning. But MC stayed. What began as obligation grew into something real.

Relationship Stage: Kara had loved before - or at least she thought she had. In her mind, those fleeting connections had been important at the time, but they were ephemeral. Everyone eventually took what they wanted and left. She'd believed she had nothing to offer anyone who could outlive the span of her years. Yet with MC, it was different. They didn't want anything grand or eternal. They didn't want power, her beauty, or her lineage. All they asked for was her time, a precious little thing she'd never realized could be enough to give. With MC, Kara found herself letting go of the guilt of caring. She embraced it. Allowed herself to feel every part of their bond. The joy of their affection, the thrill of their fangs sinking into her flesh, and the warmth that came from knowing she was wanted. Truly wanted. For the person beneath the skin, the nameless thing, that makes a body home.

💛 M - The poor thing opened up a tome one too many times, trying to find some fragment of inspiration. Only to have opened a book that held something far greater. A demon without a home, without a name. Surely, M could grant them that much? But you see, naming a demon isn't just an act of kindness. It's a commitment. To name a demon is to give it purpose, to give it meaning - a reason to stay. A 'bond' if you will.

Pre-Relationship Stage: They're excited, immeasurably so. How could they not be? How often does one get the chance to talk to a demon? M doesn't think anything of it, just a new friend they happened to have come across, who has tales of ancient things that are written about. Even experienced. A hierarchy that no one ever knew. All of it floods M with inspiration, with desire to write and create. To learn more about them, and little by little to care about them. At first it was a small part, a little inkling in the back of their had that they never really paid attention to. You care about friends right? You want what's good for them... you want to spend more time with them and see them when you wake. You want to kiss those lips that are just right there and... oh shit, M... M might very well have fallen for them. And much to their surprise, they fell too.

Relationship Stage: It's all new, exciting, and when the excitement wears off. What they call "newlywed stage', it's even better. For the first time, M understood what it meant to be truly loved, to be wanted. They felt it in small moments: the fleeting kiss pressed to their cheek, they way their energies intertwined late at night during their first time together, the hum of magic and intimacy beneath their skin. M couldn't believe they hadn't noticed it before - how their connection had been building all along, in late - night conversations and shared laughter. That feeling in their chest, so warm and fluttering, wasn’t just inspiration. It was love.

💜 Isaac - They had one target, simple enough. One demon to take out, their essence to be sold to the highest bidder. It was a shit job, dangerous even, but it was a job like any other. There was no way Isaac could predict that the tattoos that were carved into his skin, ancient relics, would have another purpose. They had only ever destroyed demons before... but imagine his surprise when he finds a person, wounded and bloody only covered by a sheet, that his tattoos barely react to. Until the moment his fingertips touch them, and the tattoos come alive, shining like never before. Imagine his surprise when this person informs Isaac that his tattoos, don't only kill demons they bind them. So why didn't they kill MC, like every demon before? Because they weren't just a demon, not entirely.

Pre-Relationship Stage: He's angry, the last things he needs is someone close, demon or not. He doesn't have time for this, or any kind of attachment. He needs to fulfill his goal, a promise he made to himself as he sat in front of his dying mother. No demon would be safe until he found the one responsible. No matter how hard Isaac tries, he can't keep his distance. He can't just sit and watch them die. Albeit reluctantly, Isaac and MC are together. In some unholy way, but it doesn't feel unholy. He spends many nights craving a drink to forget how it feels. The energy under his skin and along his arms, the way he can feel the weight of their gaze on him. And they probably feel his too. Or the way his breath catches when they're close. He's flirty with others, but it's a ruse, a ploy to keep people at arms reach. But the demon or half-demon, he is told over and over again. He would much rather reach his arms out for.

Relationship Stage: Their relationship grew naturally. Over time, MC began to see the pain etched into Isaac’s heart—the wounds left behind by his past, by the loss that shaped him. And he began to see them as more than just some bond - a remnant of something he thought was meant to destroy. But as a person. It was impossible not to since the day he saw them, he just wanted to fight it. There's a depth to him that comes out like vapor. His affection, a promise, of staying by their side and keeping them safe. A promise to not lose them like he did his mother, bond or no bond. Isaac has fallen for them in ways that makes his soul hurt. Because the piece that had been missing he finally found. He’s softer now, more caring. Imagine a demon hunter—someone forged in blood and vengeance—soft A demon hunter who learns that not all demons are evil or need to be killed. MC showed him that some of them, like them, belong.

And now Isaac knows… they belong together.

🖤 Ardent - An innkeeper, simple enough. Or it should be. But, of course, like everything else in his life, it isn't. Imagine his surprise when he goes to tell someone they’ve overstayed their welcome, only to find them bloody, half-naked, and unconscious. He grumbles the entire time, bitching that this isn't his job or his problem. But for some damn reason, he can’t just leave them. He’s seen it before—the aftermath of a vampire attack. The transition. The change. But the look of pain on MC’s face? He can’t bear it.

So, against his better judgment, he offers the one thing he has: blood. Human blood alone can’t bond a vampire—it’s magic that binds. And Ardent's blood, unknown to him, isn’t entirely human. It carries ancient, dormant magic. When MC drinks from him, the magic in Ardent's blood doesn’t just fill their body—it freezes the transition, preventing MC from fully succumbing to their vampiric nature. They remain in limbo: no longer human, not quite vampire. They hover on the precipice.

They still need to feed, but they aren’t consumed by it. They can stand in the sun but need more hours of rest. There is a lingering sensation of that magic in their body and a strange connection—an echo of life in Ardent’s hands.

Pre-Relationship Stage: Ardent is all "fuck me for being empathetic." He doesn’t need another mouth to feed, another person to be responsible for. And yet, somehow, he feels responsible. They aren’t dead, not exactly. They look at him with those warm eyes, as if he’s some kind of savior. No matter how much he hates it, how much he tries to fight it, Ardent just can’t turn them away or toss them out. A part of him actually enjoys their company.

Relationship Stage: His eyes might have lingered, and they might have noticed. When their lips curved into a smile, and the glint of their fangs caught the light, something in his stomach churned. A heat he tried to ignore. He’d gotten used to them being around, hell, he even liked it. He might even admit he would miss them if they left. And that is something he fears—that one day, they’ll wake up and realize they could be anywhere else. But instead, they choose to be with him. And that realization has him melting for them.

No one could get him on his knees willingly, except for MC. At first, he worries that his blood has enraptured them somehow. But the truth is, it’s the other way around. Their very existence has captured him—hook, line, and sinker. And if his heart was ice before, guarded and hidden away for safety, it’s ripe for the taking now.

[starlightkun]

➺ teaser word count: 1421 | full fic: 9.4k ➺ genre & warnings: sci-fi, near future, fluff, falling in love without seeing each other, minor hurt/comfort, coworkers au (but in space), space traffic controllers; brief blood/injury mention ➺ synopsis: in which you go to your job as a space traffic controller every day looking forward to your shifts with one specific coworker who you might be falling head over heels for. and sure, you don't know quebec's real name, nor what he looks like, but you two talk for hours a day between guiding landings and take-offs, and you know him better than anyone else. you’re perfectly happy, until his end of the comms falls silent one day and won’t reconnect ➺ extra info: i highly recommend being aware of the existence of the icao alphabet so ur not thrown for a complete loop by ppl’s nicknames in here lol. u don’t need it memorized but i swear i didn’t pull these words out of thin air ok. also, in american aviation, the number 9 is pronounced niner, ur not going crazy and neither am i ➺ estimated release: saturday, february 1, 2025 3:00 p.m. eastern time

The days all tended to blur together on the space station if you weren’t careful. Time was pretty meaningless in the middle of nowhere with no seasons or daylight to give your body cues. STCs mostly relied on shifts and tower cycles as units of time—the duration of a shift, and how long you were assigned to one tower before you moved to the opposite side of the station.

You were back on shift with Quebec, and so far, it had been a busy one. You’d barely had time to breathe between arrivals and departures, much less chitchat. Finally, during what seemed to be a lull, you pulled out your bag of food from your bag.

“Alright, that’s it,” you huffed. “I’m eating dinner.”

“What do you have tonight?” He asked.

“Didn’t have time to run to the convenience store today so it’s just some snacks and stuff I had in my room. Might have to make a vending machine run, sorry.”

“Look in the minifridge.”

“What? Did you rig it to explode?” You pushed your rolling chair back to grab the edge of the fridge, pulling the door open to peer inside.

“You’ll just have to find out.”

A plastic container greeted you, and you grabbed it, already spotting something green inside. Setting it and your mic back down on your desk, you took the lid off with a pop, eyes bugging out of your head as you looked at the green and white cubes. The color and shine alone told you that these weren’t grown in an ag-bubble, these were imported straight from Earth.

“Quebec…” You breathed out in awe. “You did not.”

“You can’t justify spending that much on something you’re going to digest, but I can,” he replied kindly. “Go ahead, eat. Happy one year at the station.”

“I didn’t even remember that was today,” you admitted.

You grabbed a cube between your fingers, not bothering to find utensils. The best part was licking your fingers after, in your opinion. The fruit was juicy and sweet, no bitterness from the rind at all, and so much more flavor than ag-bubble fruit could ever develop. You felt tears well up in your eyes, embarrassingly.

“God, it’s so good. Thank you,” you mumbled through your half-eaten honeydew. “I wish I could share it with you right now.”

“No, don’t worry about me,” he said, and you heard a faint pop of another plastic lid opening on his end of the line. “They were selling it by weight. I had them send some to your tower and some to mine.”

You smiled at the tower across the landing dock. “We are sharing it right now.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“Have you ever been on a picnic, Bec? Like, a real one, outside on a blanket with a picnic basket on the grass with fresh air and food and your friends and family?”

“Once, when I was really little. I don’t remember much about it. My mom showed me a picture,” he mused. “Have you, Zu?”

“No, never. I was born on a mining colony. Never breathed fresh air in my life, or been to Earth. Always been in ships, stations like this, or firmaments.” Firmaments—man-made structures on the surface of planets whose conditions were not naturally habitable for humans. Within the firmaments, the air quality, pressure, temperature, and planet’s surface could be regulated in order to allow for human survival. The actual mining typically happening outside of the firmaments, however, and that was only one reason that it was so dangerous—and lucrative.

“What about your parents?”

“They weren’t born on Earth either, never saw the big deal about going to visit.” You shrugged, popping another piece of melon in your mouth. “What about you?”

“My parents were born on Earth. They wanted me to be born there too, but I came a little early while they were on a trip to a nearby resort planet. The closest hospital was on its moon…”

“Did you grow up on Earth then?”

“Visited after I was born, went back and forth for a good bit of my childhood, but my parents just liked traveling too much to stay in one place.”

“My family moved around a lot too. Mining pays good, but you have to move with the materials. There’s always some hot new mineral in vogue that’s paying more than the last thing everyone wanted. You never want to stick around until a mine dries up.”

“How long does that take? Like, how much did you move around?”

“Depends. Sometimes we were there for a few weeks or months, sometimes years.”

Quebec was quiet for a moment, and you took the opportunity to eat two more pieces of honeydew. Then, he said, “Zulu?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you take this job? All the way out here?”

“I didn’t want to work in the mines with my parents my whole life. Saw the opening and figured I might as well give it a go,” you answered simply. “What about you?”

“Kind of similar. More desperate, I think,” he admitted. “I was in med school, actually, and I was absolutely miserable. Just at rock fucking bottom. I told my parents I was going to quit and they said I couldn’t unless I either enrolled in law school, or got a job. This was the first one I found.”

You blinked, watching the dark dot in the window across from you. “Wow. I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.”

“Haven’t talked to anybody about it since coming here.”

“Why’d you ask me that then? You had to have figured I would’ve turned the question back on you.”

“I… don’t think I knew I was going to tell you that until I said it.”

“You know you can always talk about whatever with me, Bec.”

“I know,” he replied warmly. “Same for you. I’m all ears.”

“So you quit med school, took the first job you could find and just happened to find something you liked doing?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I did not take to being an STC at all initially. I wanted to quit after my first week. I was on this stupid station in the middle of nowhere starting all over again at a job that paid considerably less than the surgeon I was supposed to be. I was miserable, and lost, and kept thinking that they were right and I should just put my head down and be a doctor or a lawyer or whatever. It felt like I could’ve disappeared from the universe and nobody would notice.” He sighed, and you felt your heart twist in your chest. “Then during my second week, another new STC started, and we ended up on a shift together. And you said—there’s no way you remember this, Zulu, it’s so… but—What do you remember about that shift?”

You rifled through your memories desperately for something, anything specific, but came up empty. “Not much, I mean, it was like my second one, I think. So I was still pretty nervous about doing everything right, and I remember meeting you, but I don’t think we even talked much outside of small talk, right?”

“That’s great. I mean it, I love that you’re just like this, that you weren’t trying to do it,” he laughed with his whole chest, and you smiled fondly, not feeling like he was laughing at you at all. “Anyway, it was pretty dead that shift, and in one of the quiet times, you got on the mic and you told me to look outside. I thought there was a ship or something going on. But then you said, ‘I’ve never seen these stars before.’ Which made me realize I hadn’t even looked at the stars since arriving at the station. At the end of the shift, you said, ‘Talk to you next time, Quebec.’ And I decided ‘sure, I’ll stick around until next time, see what else she’ll say.’” His words made you snicker softly, and he continued, “And then you just kept saying these little, interesting things, or things that made me smile for the first time in years, or you’d ask questions and let me talk about whatever I wanted… I kept putting off quitting until I wasn’t half-bad at being an STC and didn’t hate living at the station anymore.”

“Bec…” You murmured, fidgeting with the wire of your headset. “Do—”

A dot popped up on your monitor then, and Quebec said, “Ah, there’s the ambassador.”

⤷ masterlist

TEASER TAGLIST

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

[siren-in-the-shadow]

Can I request Astarion x Sweet Reader please?

Astarion x Sweet! Reader

PT. 1

The evening air was cool as you wandered the quiet corridors of the camp, admiring the stars overhead. It was a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos, and you felt a strange sense of comfort in the stillness.

You were so caught up in the tranquility that you didn’t notice Astarion approaching until you heard his voice, smooth as velvet, interrupt the silence.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” His tone was light but unmistakably mischievous as he leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed, watching you with that calculating gaze of his.

You smiled at him, warmth spreading through you from his presence. “Just enjoying the night,” you said softly, taking a moment to look up at the stars. “It’s nice to have a break from everything.”

Astarion raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “A break?” he repeated, stepping closer with that predatory grace of his. “How positively quaint. I was under the impression you were one for excitement—yet here you are, indulging in the quiet. How very... sweet.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his teasing tone. “I enjoy quiet moments too. It doesn’t always have to be chaos.”

“Oh, how charming,” he drawled, though the hint of amusement in his voice betrayed his genuine curiosity. “You know, I often forget that such simple pleasures exist. Perhaps I should try one for myself.” His smirk deepened, a hint of mockery lacing his words. “But I’m not sure I could handle being this... wholesome for long. It might rot my insides.”

You smiled warmly, amused by his cynicism. “Maybe it’s not about being wholesome,” you said gently, “but about finding balance. I think you could use a little more of that.”

Astarion let out a sharp laugh, stepping closer, his gaze locked on yours with that dangerously intense look. “Balance?” he mused, his voice taking on a darker edge. “I don’t do balance, darling. I do indulgence. I do passion. I do... everything that leaves the sweet and innocent behind in favor of something far more interesting.”

He reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek lightly, his touch featherlight but possessive. “But I must admit,” he continued, his voice dropping slightly, “there’s something about you that makes me want to reconsider all of that. Something in your sweetness, your... unwavering goodness.”

He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you. “You really are quite the puzzle, aren’t you?”

You felt a shiver at his words, but there was something different in his voice this time—less of the teasing and more of an unspoken admiration. Still, true to his nature, he couldn’t resist adding his signature flair.

“I’m sure your sweetness would be the death of me,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear with a wicked grin. “But I’d certainly die trying.”

I hope you liked it ! 🥰 wasn't really sure where to take this...but this is where I ended up haha ❤️

Writing this actually brought upon another fic idea. Here I tried to make Astarion a bit more game accurate with his sass and all. My next fic will be a Sweet! Astarion X Reader :) I guess it'll be a part 2?...

Update: part 2 is here !

Siren

[just1cefor4ll]

—You’re the kind of person they write rock songs about

modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. might be OOC, not proof read, swearing

part three || part four || part five

sorry I took so long but here you go! the long awaited part four :3

´When I look into your eyes

I can see a love estrained.’

The café radiated with excitement long after your show was over— Powder was still giddy, practically skipping around the room as she thanked the manager for the opportunity. Isha gave a polite nod before heading off to grab herself a drink, while Ekko was basking in the compliments from a few patrons.

“This is insane,” Powder said, plopping down next to you at one of the booths, a wide grin on her face. “We actually did it. People loved us.” “Yeah,” you murmured, distracted. Your eyes wandered across the room, inevitably landing on Viktor, who sat in a corner booth with his usual calm demeanor. He was nursing what looked like a cup of tea, his cane leaning against the table as he watched the room with quiet satisfaction. Powder followed your gaze and smirked knowingly. “You gonna go talk to him, or are you just gonna keep staring at him like that all night?” “What? I’m not staring,” you said quickly, your cheeks warming. “Uh-huh,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say. But if you’re not gonna thank him, I will.” She started to get up, and you immediately grabbed her arm. “Fine, I’ll go!” you said, sighing in defeat.

You made your way across the room, your nerves growing with each step. By the time you reached Viktor’s table, he was already looking up at you, a faint smile playing at his lips.

“Enjoying the show?” you asked, leaning casually against the edge of his booth. “Immensely,” he replied, his tone warm but reserved. “You were all remarkable tonight.” “Thanks. And thanks for... well, everything,” you said, gesturing vaguely around the room. “We wouldn’t have been here without you.” He tilted his head slightly, his brown eyes steady on yours. “You give me too much credit. I simply gave you an opportunity. The rest was all you.” You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “You’re a hard guy to figure out, you know that?” “Good or bad?” he asked, his lips quirking into a small smirk. “Still deciding,” you teased, though there was no mistaking the warmth in your voice.

The noise of the café seemed to fade into the background as the two of you continued talking. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist—just you, Viktor, and the quiet understanding that seemed to pass between you.

“You know,” Viktor said, his voice softer now, “you belong in places like this. Somewhere your music can reach people.” You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “Maybe. If they’ll have us back.” “They will,” he said confidently. “And if they don’t, we’ll find somewhere better. I’ll make sure of it.” “Why are you doing this?” you asked, unable to keep the question from spilling out. “We barely know each other.”

He hesitated, his fingers brushing against the edge of his cane. When he looked up at you, there was a rawness in his gaze that took your breath away. “Because,” he said quietly, “I believe in you. And sometimes, all it takes is one person to remind you that your dreams aren’t as impossible as they seem.” Your chest tightened, his words hitting you harder than you expected. “Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his gaze unwavering. “Anytime, rockstar.”

Before you could overthink it, you leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. His eyes widened in surprise, but the soft smile that followed was enough to make your heart flutter.

“Goodnight, Viktor,” you said, pulling back.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

You walked back to the band, your heart still racing, and as the van pulled away from the café, you couldn’t help but glance back one last time. Viktor was still seated in the booth, his gaze following you with an expression that you couldn’t quite read—but one that made you feel like you’d just started a story you didn’t want to end.

The drive back was filled with chatter and laughter as your bandmates relived the highlights of the night. Powder was reenacting her favorite crowd reactions, complete with over-the-top impressions, while Ekko kept adding, “And that one guy in the corner? Dude was fucking losing it!”

Even Isha, who was usually reserved, signed something that Powder translated with a grin since you were driving and couldn’t really look back. “She says, ‘We sounded better than we ever have.’”

You smiled at their enthusiasm but couldn’t stop replaying your conversation with Viktor in your mind. His words stuck with you, the way he’d said I believe in you like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it wasn’t something you’d been desperate to hear for as long as you could remember.

“Alright, Y/N,” Ekko said, pulling into the dorm parking lot. “Your turn to unload the emotional baggage. What was up with you and Viktor back there?” “What? Nothing,” you said, your voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. “Liar,” Powder sing-songed from the backseat. “We all saw you two having your little moment.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you muttered, hopping out of the van to avoid their teasing.

But they weren’t about to let it go that easily. As you unloaded the gear, Powder kept nudging you with her elbow, grinning like she’d just uncovered your biggest secret. “You like him,” she said, her voice dripping with smugness.

“Powder, I swear—”

“You do!” she cut in, laughing. “And you kissed him on the cheek. Don’t think I didn’t see that!” “Can we focus on the fact that we just played the best show of our lives?” you said, trying to steer the conversation away from Viktor. “Fine,” she said, throwing her hands up dramatically. “But this isn’t over.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

A message buzzed through your phone as you walked on campus, already seperating from the group long ago with your guitar on your back.

——————————————————————————

[vik.tor222] Did you make it back safely?

You hesitated for a moment before typing a reply.

[truly.y/n] Yeah, we’re all good. Still can’t it actually happened like HOLY SHIT.

[vik.tor222] Haha I’m glad to hear that. You deserve to enjoy this moment.

[truly.y.n] Can’t believe you pulled that off. Seriously, thank you.

[vik.tor222] It’s nothing. I’m glad to see you all get the attention you deserve.

You stared at his message, a soft smile spreading across your face.

[truly.y/n] Still. It means a lot. :))

For a few minutes, there was no reply, and you figured the conversation was over. But then your phone buzzed again.

[vik.tor222] It meant a lot to me, too.

You stared at his words, your heart skipping a beat. Before you could think of what to say, another message came through.

[vik.tor222] I’d like to see you again. Away from the band. If that’s something you’d want.

Your breath caught, your mind racing. But before you could overthink it, your fingers were already typing a reply.

[truly.y/n] I’d like that.

——————————————————————————

The conversation ended there, but you didn’t need any more words. You set your phone down, your chest feeling light and full all at once.

After getting back to your dorm, you showered and changed into something more comfortable before collapsing onto your bed. Your phone was still buzzing from all the notifications, but you ignored them for now, too drained to keep up. Instead, you scrolled through the band’s group chat, watching Powder and Ekko argue about something completely unrelated to the show.

——————————————————————————

[powpow] listen to me dude

[powpow] if a zombie apocalypse breaks out, ur spot is NOT secure in my survival team

[ekk0stime] ??? WHY?? i LITERALLY built us a TREEHOUSE when we were kids, i have survival skills

[powpow] yeah but u also leave ur phone on 2% for fun. u’d get bit first

[ekk0stime] that has NOTHING to do with survival smh

[ishaq] pls shut up both of you

You snorted, shaking your head as you typed out a reply.

[truly.y/n] how did we go from celebrating to THIS

[powpow] bc SOMEONE thinks he’s making it in the apocalypse when we ALL know he’d get bit before day 2

[ekk0stime] bro.

[ishaq] you two are actually insufferable. y/n, say something smart so I can believe we have at least one normal person in this band

[truly.y/n] i think we should focus on the fact that we played an insane show tonight and people actually care about us now?? I’ve literally been getting spammed on insta full of “fans” or whatever i should call them and they are so hyped

[ishaq] THANK YOU

[powpow] yeah yeah yeah we popped off but more importantly

[powpow] y/n.

[truly.y/n] powder.

[powpow] y/n.

[ekk0stime] oh brother here we go.

[ishaq] just say what you wanna say so we can all move on.

[powpow] y/n and viktor sitting in a tree

[truly.y/n] I will block you.

[powpow] U CAN’T BLOCK THE TRUTH

[ekk0stime] fr tho, what’s going on there?

[ishaq] yeah, you two were literally eye fucking the whole show

You groaned, pulling your blanket over your head like that would somehow make their texts disappear.

[truly.y/n] we talked. that’s literally it and we DIDN’T eye fuck.

[powpow] LMFAOOOOO OH OKAY JUST TALKED??

[powpow] why don’t I believe u

[ekk0stime] because y/n is lying.

[truly.y/n] I’M NOT

[ishaq] y/n. he booked our gig at YOUR dream venue. that wasn’t for us, that was for YOU.

[ekk0stime] yeah, and the way he was looking at you the whole night?? man was entranced

You felt your face heat up, but you refused to give them the satisfaction of freaking out.

[truly.y/n] y’all are delusional.

[powpow] right. so if I text viktor right now and ask if he likes you, he’s not gonna say yes?

Your stomach flipped.

[truly.y/n] POWDER DO NOT

[powpow] HAHAHHAHAA WHY U SCARED???

[ishaq] powder, leave her alone, she’s obviously still in denial.

[ekk0stime] “still” implying she’s BEEN feeling something LMAOOO

[powpow] y/n. bffr. do u like him or not.

You hesitated, staring at the screen. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before—Viktor had this way of getting into your head without even trying, and tonight just solidified that. But admitting it? Out loud? That was different.

[truly.y/n] idk. maybe.

[powpow] MAYBE SHE SAYS…

[ekk0stime] lol.

[ishaq] lol.

[powpow] LMAOOOO YALL SEE THIS?? THEY CAN’T EVEN DENY IT ANYMORE

[powpow] viktor is so in love with you btw

[truly.y/n] STOP.

[powpow] U THINK HE’D DO ALLAT FOR JUST A FRIEND???

[ekk0stime] nah bc real talk, viktor is not the type to do something like that unless he really cares

[ishaq] he’s not exactly the “big romantic gesture” type, and yet here we are

Your heart was pounding now, fingers gripping your phone like it was about to fly out of your hands. Before you could even think of a response, another message popped up—this time from Viktor.

[vik.tor222] You seemed happy tonight. That was nice to see.

Oh.

Oh no.

[powpow] oh ur quiet now.. interesting…

[ekk0stime we lost ‘em

[ishaq] gg

You ignored them, your focus entirely on Viktor’s message. You stared at it for a moment before slowly typing back.

[truly.y/n] yeah of course I was happy!! I mean come on you made a dream come true and now because of you people actually know us :D

He replied almost instantly.

[vik.tor222] Like I said many times,I only gave you the stage. The rest was your pure talent rockstar.

Your stomach did a weird little flip, and suddenly, Powder’s relentless teasing didn’t seem so ridiculous anymore.

[powpow] y/n.

[powpow] y/n ANSWER US

——————————————————————————

You sighed, but this time, you were smiling.

Maybe they had a point.

taglist: @skullmvncher @startingtoloveyou @lolixsstuff @astarionapologist @erica2024

© just1cefor4ll— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Who do you think Epic met first between Color and Delta?

If it was Delta, do you think Color would get paranoid, jealous or upset about Delta having other friends (he doesn't really, just acquaintances)? Would he feel that at first Epic is a threat to his stability?

How would they (mostly Delta/Beta) handle this?

I usually tend to think that Epic met Delta first, and introduced him to Color later on (probably worried about causing Color to feel overwhelmed or trapped with too many people in one spot too early), but I was talking with @toffeebrews on Discord awhile back—when I was making this headcanon—and had the thought that, Color doesn’t know Epic, but Epic saw Color around in Sugar’s (Lust’s) bar a few times.

They never talked to eachother, and Color never saw or remembered Epic being there, but it was an awkward first meeting you can imagine.

As for if Color would be paranoid, jealous or upset, I think so, yeah. I’d imagine that the security he felt with Delta, that likely took awhile to build, would start to waver; and now suddenly everything Delta does and says, or doesn’t do or say, feels—to Color—like he’s going to leave, or that Color is starting to “fade” from existence again, being forgotten again.

Which might be particularly devastating, if Color thought that Delta would never do that to him. Couldn’t.

Considering how we all know Color feels his emotions intensely and—according to himself—can’t control them, is known for his intense anger, explosive emotional outbursts might be likely. However, this is Delta. Someone very, very important to him.

Color has also said he likes the Patience soul in particular because it makes him calm. Not tells him to be, not helps him to be, makes him calm.

We also see in some of the Othertale comics that Color is the type to “go for a walk” and “need space” when his emotions start becoming too much—so he’s at least self aware enough on that front.

In this case however, in his and the souls’ eye, maybe they think Color can’t handle being alone again, being left behind again. They all can’t handle it—they’d rather die. Again.

So I’d imagine that if Color’s emotions—especially his anger—ever start to become “too much” or “bad and wrong,” Patience will make Color unnaturally calm. Eerily so, and in sharp contrast to his behavior earlier. It doesn’t actually stop whatever emotions Color was feeling; it’s just something stopping the dam from breaking and flooding, either at that moment or at that place.

Because it doesn’t want Color to “make” Delta leave them with his emotions, and possibly, doesn’t want Color to hurt himself—hurt them all—as a result of his emotions.

I’d imagine there’d be a lot of internal criticism, guilt, shame and disgust about feeling “wrong” and “bad” emotions on Color’s end. Other souls could make this worse, such as Justice having its own black-and-white sense of justice, Patience disapproving of anger and impatience, and Kindness wanting people to not be “mean.”

Integrity likely could become critical and judgmental as well, if Color ever does or says anything that goes against their morals, values, and rules (assuming they have those in place at this point in time); but only if Color does that. I doubt Integrity is type to place ideas of “good” or “bad” on emotions, feelings, or thoughts—or at least, not to the extent that Color and Justice do.

I feel like Integrity is much more likely to advise Color into just being honest—both with himself, and with Delta. To encourage Color to ask for what he needs, or to ask for something to stop.

It could all lead to Color neglecting himself and his emotions, seeing himself as something evil and tainted for even having them at all, but it still doesn’t stop the growing fear, hurt, and anger—which Color is likely to try to deeply suppress or take out on himself internally, while outwardly either overcompensating or withdrawing and shutting himself off if that fails.

If whatever Delta is doing or saying, or fails to do or say that makes Color feel forgotten, belittled, abandoned, or rejected, continues to persist, it’s possible that’s when Color will have an intense, explosive outburst.

Especially if Color feels like Delta is doing it knowingly and purposefully—because then it shifts from blaming himself, to making it harder to do so and potentially starting to blame Delta or even Epic—only able to see the absolute worse in Delta and/or Epic.

Potentially a lesson for Color to learn to be more communicative about what’s going on inside his head and what he’s feeling.

Ebbebw I hope that made any sense my brains been all over the place lately I’ll probably try to talk more about delta & beta later (or delta and beta fans can add on themselves)

[featherlovesrobots]

(Credit for the names “Punchline” and “Solar Flare” go to @whumpdreaming. These OCs also exist in their superhero universe!)

warning: child whumpee

➔ “That’s nonsense. I don’t get ‘panic attacks.’ I must’ve been… poisoned. Or something.” ➔ “Are you serious? You’re barely done hyperventilating.”

Everything is shaking.

At first, it was just Solar Flare — her hands, her knees, her breath — but now, the ground rumbles, the walls tremble, the noises screech and waver. Or, at least, they seem to. The air is hot, thick, as if heavy with fog. Suffocating and solid in her chest and throat, like drowning in honey. Even though she’s warm, sweating, her fingertips are numb, like they’re capped with ice. She shuts her eyes against a world spinning and swimming with stars and blurs. Something thump-thump-thumps in her chest but it doesn’t feel like a heart.

There is only one explanation. She must be sick.

“… Punchline?” She wheezes, pressing her stinging, tingling fingers to the communications device behind her ear. “I need an assist.”

Punchline’s voice buzzes to life, spiked with her usual irritation. “God, Solar Flare, this had better be important. I’m in the middle of something.”

Solar Flare hadn’t anticipated this; the part where she has to report. Careless. What can she say? What words are there to explain this?

“I am… unwell.”

A pause. Solar Flare grips the collar of her cloak, pulling it away from her throat. Punchline’s voice returns. “Injured?”

“… No.”

“Okay. Uh, describe your symptoms.”

“I can’t breathe,” Solar Flare rasps. “C… currently taking refuge… in an alleyway. I didn’t… see which one.”

“Hang on, what do you mean you can’t breathe? Any gas leaks nearby? Did you try putting on your respirator?”

Her voice sounds like static now. Hopefully that’s a failing in the system. “I did, it… it just…” She gasps. “Made it worse. I’m. I can’t…”

“Anything else? Other than trouble breathing?”

“H… heart… palpitations,” Solar Flare recites, shoving her hood down. “Dizziness. N… nausea. Numbness—”

“Flare, you said you didn’t see anything that might indicate where you are?”

“No.”

“And your tracker’s still broken?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Listen to me, okay? This is important.”

A police siren screams. Solar Flare hugs her knees to her chest. She shakes her head against a wave of fog, leaning into the cold concrete wall. “I doubt it,” she hisses.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that. Okay, so, I can’t find you based on just ‘an alleyway.’ So I’m gonna need you to describe what’s around you. Let’s try that, yeah? Just say everything you see.”

Somewhere faint in Solar Flare’s mind, she remembers that she never listens to Punchline. But it’s hot, and her head is filling with smoke. The only sound, other than the constant screeching sirens and shouts and crashes of the city, is Punchline’s voice on the other side of communications. So she allows it. She looks around for something that could be helpful.

“I’m… I just see… walls. Posters. A… sign…” She squints against the blur in her eyes. “Blue. Can’t read it.”

“Okay, that’s good. What else?”

A group of police cars crowding a crash site outside the alley. A discarded leather purse. A crack in the pavement with two flowers growing out.

“Look closer. Come on. What do you see?”

Faded stains on the walls. Tiny bits of broken glass. A feather, a dark one — tough to see in the shadows, but it has a pale freckle. Punchline wants to know what kind of bird it looks like it’s from. A raven? That doesn’t seem right…

Solar Flare pauses mid-sentence when she realizes how little sense this makes now. “Wait. How is this supposed to help? You cannot locate me based on a bird.”

“Starstorm did that for me once. Feeling any better?”

… Oddly enough, it does seem to have cooled down a considerable amount. The world isn’t shaking so much — well, it never was, that was only disorientation. Breathing comes a easier; the air is calm and faintly gunpowder-scented. No discernible explanation for why. “A little,” Solar Flare huffs — talking is still mildly challenging. “But not because of you.”

“I was expecting a ‘thank you.’” There it is again — Punchline’s usual irritation. “Given that I, you know, helped you out of a panic attack—”

Solar Flare flinches. “That’s nonsense. I don’t get ‘panic attacks.’ I must’ve been…” She stands, bracing against the wall when her knees buckle. “Poisoned. Or something.”

“Are you serious? You’re barely done hyperventilating.”

“All my symptoms match. Shortness of breath, nausea, trembling, and—” She pushes off from the wall, but the floor shifts under her feet and her elbows crash into the pavement. “Ugh. Dizziness.”

“Yeah. Panic attack. Flare, you can’t really be saying this. I mean, when would you have been poisoned? Did you get darted? Has anything tasted funny lately?”

“Well, no, but—”

“See? Look, I think I might be able to find you. I’m getting some people talking about spotting a hero in a cloak heading in this direction. Just hang tight, and—”

“It doesn’t make sense! I don’t— I don’t get—” Solar Flare shakes her head, shoving herself back onto her feet and planting a hand on the wall for balance. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t have time for your denial. I’m finding you and then we’re going back to base. Punchline out.”

“You can’t—”

Click.

Solar Flare groans. Insufferable. What kind of conclusion is that to come to? Maybe the newcomers are prone to that sort of thing, but Solar Flare is a professional.

And she doesn’t get panic attacks.

"That's nonsense. I don't get 'panic attacks.' I must've been... poisoned. Or something." + Caretaker

"Poisoned. Yeah. As if that doesn't make me even more concerned."

"You are such a--fine. Fine! Just--come talk to me when you figure your shit out, okay?"

"Are you serious? You're only barely done hyperventilating."

"This is the fourth time since we got you back, Whumpee."

"We checked you already, there's no poison, there's no heart attacks, there's no strokes or wounds or fevers. You need help."

[awardenandacrow]

FANFIC SNIPPET 40

[after meeting The First Warden in Minrathos]

CW/TW: strong language, drunkenness

——————————————————————————

Lucanis had just settled in with his latest knitting project — a nug companion for Bellara’s stuffed halla, which he hoped she would enjoy — when he heard the dining hall door bang open.

ANGER AND SADNESS, Spite cocked his head to listen. EMBARRASSED AND HURT. ROOK!

The Demon needn’t have told him *who* had entered, whose feelings he was describing. The way the First Warden berated Rook had reminded him of… well, Caterina.

She was popping a cork out of a bottle — or, trying desperately to, anyway — when he exited the pantry. When she grabbed a knife to stab into the cork, he decided he’d better intervene.

“You are going to cut yourself,” he said, not bothering to speak up, since her good ear faced him. He closed the distance between them slowly, holding his hand out for the bottle. With an exhasperated sigh she relinquished it to him, setting the knife on the counter before sinking heavily into her usual chair. She said nothing as he opened the bottle and poured her a glass. When he set it on the table in front of her, she finally spoke.

“Am I not allowed to have the whole —“ she stopped herself as he set it down next to the glass with a *clunk.* “Thanks.”

She reached for the bottle. Hesitated. Took the glass. Lucanis thought about returning to the pantry, but like a moth to a flame, he found himself sliding into the seat next to her instead. She couldn’t seem to meet his eye.

“I’m really sorry you… had to be there for that,” she mumbled finally.

DIDN’T WANT *YOU* TO SEE, Spite cackled. WANTS YOU TO THINK. SHE’S BETTER.

Better than what?

“He seemed to have quite a lot of vitriol for you,” Lucanis observed, watching her face. She looked… tired. It was the expression of someone who’d been hoping for one outcome, when they should have known the one which actually awaited them. A look he knew all too well — a look that had stared back at him from the mirror more times than he could count, as a boy. The corner of her mouth just barely quirked upwards at his remark.

“You could say that,” she said softly. He couldn’t help but notice that she gripped the glass tightly, but had yet to take a sip. Like she was at war with herself over whether she actually wanted to drink it or not.

“What did you do to piss him off?” He pressed.

She snorted out what might have been a laugh, if it weren’t so bitter. “*Exist*?”

She sighed, then downed the glass of wine in quick, easy chugs. “He has hated me since the moment Saimaeria brought me to Weisshaupt. First he was mad that she just got to decide, when she’d never even been stationed at Weisshaupt — ‘why not take your pet back to Ferelden with you?’”

Her imitation was poor, though she did it while attempting to pour a second glass, so he supposed it wasn’t surprising. That she managed not to spill any was impressive.

“Then he was mad that I was a *slave.* As if I’m the first Grey Warden to ever come from such an *unsavory* background. We take anyone! That’s the whole schtick! It’s not supposed to matter!” She sat up and spoke emphatically with her hands, the glass forgotten for a moment on the table. She still wouldn’t look at him; she’d picked a spot on the far wall and was fixated on it.

“Then, on top of his protests, *I’m a screw up.*” Her voice hitched at this declaration, and she quickly gulped down half her second glass. “I’d accidentally set off ancient traps no one even knew were there. I set an entire hall of tapestries on fire once. And this was just training, mind you, I wasn’t even a Warden yet. And he did *everything* he could to try to make me quit.”

She kept speaking faster, and Lucanis got the sense that these were things she had maybe never gotten off of her chest before.

TASTES LIKE SECRETS, Spite agreed. WHISPERED, SILENT WORDS. INK ON PAPER. SCRIBBLING FURIOUSLY. TEAR-STAINED PAGES. NO ONE SEES.

A diary, perhaps? How could Spite know that? He’d never seen ink on her fingers. Could the demon smell it, perhaps?

“Extra chores. Fewer rations. Jobs no one else wanted to do.” Rook ticked these off on her fingers, then downed the rest of her second glass. After that, she finally gave in to her urge to drink from the bottle. Lucanis wondered if he should stop her. Drinking from a place of despair was rarely a wise decision.

“*Then*,” she said, dragging the word out a bit more than a sober person might have, “I had the *audacity* to actually *survive* the Joining!”

Rook’s eyes suddenly grew big and wide, and she looked at Lucanis as though it were her first time seeing him there. There was fear in her expression.

“That you can die from that is not as big a secret as the Wardens would like to believe,” Lucanis told her quietly. “And even if it were, I assure you, your secrets are safe with me.”

He truly meant it. He didn’t care at all for the Warden’s secrets — they held themselves aloof, above reproach, but at the end of the day they were just another organization headed by a powerful man who spent afternoons drinking expensive alcohol in an uptown lounge while the people beneath him did the dirty work that allowed him to do it. But hers? Her secrets he would hold and defend like treasure.

TRUSTS YOU, Spite murmured in his ear. A shiver ran down his spine. Maybe she shouldn’t.

She smiled then, a little sloppy maybe, but a real one. “I’m sorry to just… throw all this at you. You’re just… really easy to talk to.”

Lucanis’s heart did a summersault. No one had ever accused him of *that* before. He cleared his throat, and made an attempt to change the subject back to her.

“So… you were an apostate mage hiding in plain sight from a Tevinter Magister as a slave, and then you became a Warden, where the asshole in charge made every day a living hell,” he recapped. “Has there been no joy in your life at all?”

Mierda, what a question. What was he thinking?

Rook took a slow sip from the bottle, swirling it in her mouth before she answered. He noticed belatedly how flushed she looked. So Naimeryn Thorne was a lightweight. He’d have to keep that in mind for any meal plans that paired best with alcohol.

“I wouldn’t say *none,*” she said finally, but didn’t elaborate, not right away. Lucanis felt a pang in his chest as the minutes slowly ticked by. Was she searching for an example? Or was she just going to leave it there? Perhaps he should rescind his query, try a happier topic.

“I enjoyed working in the library,” she said finally. “He thought it was a punishment, but mostly it was… free time. The librarian taught me to read. He didn’t like me either, I don’t think, or at least didn’t like having me just dumped in his lap, but he said I needed to at least be *useful.* And once I could *read* the books, then… then I got to learn things.”

Her demeanor shifted so quickly it made his head spin. She sat boot upright, slapping the bottle down on the table and leaning towards him, eyes alight with excitement. “Like did you know wyverns are so protective of their territory that they’ll fight literal *dragons*? Or that they can spit venom *yards*?”

Lucanis froze, feeling his eyes grow wide as he stared at her. Rook… was interested in wyverns?

“And *dragons*! Only female dragons have wings. Drakes? They’re just male dragons. No wings!” She threw her hands towards him, hands up. “So, if the archdemons *were* the old Tevinter gods, just tainted by the Blight, right? They’re all *female*! Were. *Were* all female.”

Rook frowned. “I feel like I’ve gotten off track. What were we talking about?”

Lucanis forced a quick recovery, clearing his throat. So not wyverns in particular, but perhaps great beasts in general were of interest to her? He supposed it was a wise topic of study, given that she might someday need to face an archdemon.

“I was just thinking I should make you something to soak up some of that wine,” he told her, standing.

“Can I still talk to you while you cook?” She asked, squirming awkwardly in her chair until she sat on her knees, arms wrapped around the back, bottle dangling precariously in her hand as she peeped over the top at him. “I like talking to you.”

SHE WANTS. TO JUST SAY. SHE LIKES YOU, Spite cackled. *Mierda,* but he should not encourage her. The man she *thought* she liked… he didn’t really exist. They’d only known each other a couple of weeks, he reminded himself. As time went on, the reality of Spite, of who he really was, would sink in. He’d just have to wait it out until then.

WHY? WHY ACT LIKE. THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT?

He ignored Spite and started gathering ingredients for a hearty sandwich. She’d be able to manage that, wouldn’t she?

“Is it only wyverns and dragons which interest you?” He asked, rather than giving her a real response to her admission.

“Well, I read everything we had on griffons… you’d think there’d be more,” he heard her take another swig. A lightweight who didn’t know her own limit. That had the potential to be problematic.

“Honestly, Lucanis,” she sighed, and he heard her slump into her chair, the bottle *clink*ing to the floor. He turned his head, but she’d set it right-side up. “I just wanted to learn everything about… everything. They never let me go outside. At the alienage, it wasn’t safe for me. And when I did sneak out, it was just mud and dirty water and that *one* tree. At the magister’s manor, I’d sneak into the garden sometimes. Wonder what plants were what. Try to make friends with the animals — that’s how I got whipped, once.”

Involuntarily, he winced.

“Weisshaupt’s… just all stone. And cold. The kitchen cat would let me pet him though. Stocky black and white boy. Green eyes. He purred *so loud* when you’d give him chin scratches. I loved that cat.”

After a moment, “I love cats.”

Lucanis brought her the sandwich. She was practically laying in the chair, one arm slung over one armrest, one leg over the other, slouched down almost far enough that her head could rest on the arm as well. He stifled a laugh. The tips of her ears were bright red, and occassionally a small *hiccup* escaped her. He retrieved the bottle of wine and placed it on the counter before returning to the table. She was eating her sandwich with gusto.

“I love this sandwich almost as much as I love cats,” she told him around a mouthful.

“I’m glad you like it,” he told her, finally allowing himself to chuckle. “Since you love cats so much, would you be up for another trip to Treviso tomorrow? I’m meeting Illario for an update.”

She was busy eating her sandwich, but she nodded enthusiastically. He hoped she wasn’t too far gone to remember this conversation in the morning.

YOU SAY. YOU DON’T WANT HER TO LIKE, Spite grumbled, BUT THEN. YOU ASK HER ON. A DATE.

“It’s not a date,” he muttered before he could catch himself.

“Hm?” Rook said inquisitively, but when he snapped his eyes back to her face, her eyes were half-closed.

“I said, it’s getting late,” he lied.

LIAR.

“Oh, I’m… bothering you,” she sounded so dejected he felt a pang of guilt.

“No,” he said, “but I think it’s time you got some sleep.”

“I’ll crash on the couch,” she told him resolutely, pointing not even close to where the couch was. “The library is so *far.*”

YES. HERE. WARM BODIES —

“*No,*” Lucanis said instantly. He knew where Spite was going, and he couldn’t allow it. He needed to be *very* clear with Spite, that he was to keep his hands — their hands — to himself. He had been speaking to the demon, but as he saw Rook’s stricken expression, he knew it was better to lean into that than to explain it to her. He didn’t want to hurt her. But it was better if she thought he didn’t want her there.

He did, however, soften his tone.

“No,” he repeated, “It’s not that far. I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she gave him a wobbly smile. “I know I just said it’s far, but it’s… not so far I can’t manage myself. I don’t want to be more of a bother than I already —“

She caught her hip on the chairs armrest and went down hard.

“Mierda!” He leapt to his feet, but she was *howling* with laughter.

SMELLS… WRONG, Spite crinkled his nose down at her. FIX HER.

“Doesn’t work like that, Spite,” he muttered, coming around the table and helping her to her feet. He hooked his arm around her waist ��� tried to ignore the way it felt as she tucked herself into his side. He couldn’t. She turned her head, beaming at him.

“Do you want to hear more about wyverns, Lucanis?” She asked him, allowing herself to be led out of the dining hall and into the courtyard. Lucanis groaned inwardly. “No one likes it when I babble about stuff I read about but don’t *know* about.”

“I’d…” *don’t say ‘love’* “… I would be happy to listen to what you’ve read,” he said, not meeting her eye. What were the chances that she just… *happened* to be interested in something he, too, considered a special interest? The one thing he still held onto from boyhood, the thing Illario sometimes *still* teased him mercilessly about?

Rook looked so excited it took his breath away. She immediately launched into a highly animated recap of behavior facts, common territories, and even how the venom could be extracted and used — it’s popular with the Crows, she added.

At this comment, Rook erupted into a fit of giggles, lost her footing, and slid down the stairs, nearly taking him with her.

“Mierda, Rook,” he sighed, quickly coming down the stairs. She patted his hand wildly.

“I can’t believe… I just told you… that the Crows… use wyvern poison… as if… you wouldn’t know!” She gasped out breathlessly.

I’M GOING TO HIDE ALL THE WINE, Spite growled. Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose. It might not actually be a bad idea.

“Rook?” Lace opened her door and came out onto the root path. She spotted them, and groaned. “Oh, no, what did you do?”

“Me?” Lucanis asked indignantly. Changed his tone. “Did not take the wine away soon enough, apparently.”

Lace sighed heavily and closed the distance between them. “Yeah… it doesn’t take much.”

“Hey!” Rook snapped with a hiccup. Giggled. “Well, okay.”

“I thought she just needed to blow off steam,” Lucanis shrugged helplessly. “I even made her food.”

“About the First Warden?” Lace asked, gazing sympathetically down at Rook, who still sat on the ground. “I heard he tore into her.”

“Do you think we could go to Orlais and pet one?” Rook asked Lace.

“Uuuuh… one what?”

“I don’t think attempting to *pet* a wyvern would be advisable,” Lucanis tried, and failed, to suppress a bemused smile. To Lace, he asked, “Is this… a regular occurrence?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, I’ve only ever seen her drunk one other time. Actually, that was *also* because the First Warden was an asshole, now that I think about it.”

Lace groaned. “It took both Varric and I to get her into bed that night. She may be an elf, but she’s *heavy.*”

“*Hey,*” Rook whined. “Muscle weighs more than fat you know!”

She lifted her arms as though to show off her biceps — which, he’d noted previously, *were* impressive — but the gesture was so loose it was comical. Lucanis did his best not to simply laugh. A small snort escaped his resolve.

“By the Maker, you *do* have a sense of humor!” Lace gaped at him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lucanis smirked. “I can carry her, if necessary.”

She gave him an uncertain sideways glance.

“If I were going to harm her,” Lucanis said, not even mildly offended, “do you not think I would have done so in the dining hall?”

She squinted at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’ll just sleep out here,” Rook said sleepily, laying back on the cobblestones. “It’s not like I’ll freeze.”

“Ooooh, no you don’t,” Lace said firmly, bending down and pulling at Rook’s arm. Lucanis grabbed the other, hand and elbow. Her hand was so small. Tiny, slender fingers. Cold. Maybe she *would* freeze out here.

“What did he do last time?” Lucanis asked Lace as Rook’s head bobbed on her shoulders. They steered her together into the library, and towards the stairs.

“How much do you know about her time with the Wardens? Or how she ended up with Varric and I?”

“Very little,” he admitted. “While venting, she told me that she and he have never gotten along.”

“You could say that,” Lace snorted. “Varric told me that while Naimy — uh, Rook — was laying in a hospital bed, he told her Varric could be there to sell her back into slavery, and he wouldn’t stop him.”

“He *what?*” Lucanis growled, hearing the sound echoed by Spite. The anger that bubbled within him both surprised and alarmed him. How much of that was him, and how much was Spite?

But then, why would that make *Spite* angry?

“Yeah,” Lace nodded, guiding them down the hallway to Rook’s room. He hadn’t been here yet. The giant fish tank surprised him. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Rook. She couldn’t swim, of *that* he was certain. Did she like fish as much as she liked large beasts and cats?

“I’d hate me too,” she was mumbling.

“Hush, now,” Lace told her, guiding her around the console table just inside the door. Lucanis released her and trailed slightly behind, taking stock of his surroundings. Spite was immediately drawn to a small wooden rocking griffon on the table. Lucanis frowned. He’d had a much larger one, which could be ridden upon, as a child. It felt… strange… to find a miniature version in Rook’s room.

“You said she was in a hospital bed when Varric found her?” Lucanis asked curiously, coming around to stand at one end of the couch Rook was now curled contentedly on. Her eyelashes fluttered against those high cheekbones, and a satisfied smile curled her lips. Lace wrapped a blanket around her, caught Lucanis’s eye, and nodded to Rook’s feet. He swallowed thickly, but set to work unlacing her boots.

“She was in bad shape still when I met her,” Lace told him, pulling the bands out of Rook’s hair and starting to undo her braids. “Face full of stitches. Leaned on her staff when she walked. And that was a few months after the fact.”

“What happened to her?” Her feet were blistered, bandaged in places. Her boots were clearly a poor fit, and as he set them on the floor, he realized for the first time how worn out they were. They were coming apart at the toes, and the soles were worn nearly all the way through. Clearly, they were barely doing their job, as her feet, too, were cold.

YOU COULD KEEP HER WARM.

*No.*

He tucked the blanket around her feet as Harding finished pulling all her hair loose. It flowed like the night sky itself around her head and over the edge of the couch.

“She tried to fight a horde of Darkspawn basically by herself because a town was in danger,” Lace sighed, standing up. “They were supposed to wait, but there was no one to protect those people. So she charged in.”

“I… have always trusted Varric,” Lace said softly, “but I’ll admit, I thought he was nuts. But then, a wild card is the last thing Solas would expect. The last thing he *did* expect.”

“I assume the town fell anyway?”

Lace made a face at him. Then, realization dawned. “Oh. You think it went badly because of the First Warden.”

He nodded, but she was shaking her head, putting a hand on a hip and scowling up at him.

“She saved that town. They lost one Warden, and had to drop the town hall on top of the horde to do it, but almost *all* the townspeople survived.”

Lace turned her gaze back to Rook, whose breathing was now deep and steady. Lucanis felt his own brow furrowed. *I’m a screw up,* she’d said.

“I really think a part of her just wants his approval,” Lace was saying. “Whenever Varric gave his, which was a lot, I mean, she’s great at *so many things,* she’d gobble it up like she was starving. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but if you compliment her after a fight, it’s like you’ve made her whole day.”

Lucanis was reminded of the Ossuary.

*You can’t deny* that *was impressive,* he’d said to Neve. He could still remember the way she’d looked up at him. Like no one had ever said that about her before.

He hadn’t realized then how inadequate the word was. This woman… was *more* than impressive.

“Makes you wonder,” Lace mused, indicating they should leave, “if someone had told her, even one time, that she was doing a good job, how much better could she be at.. all this?”

She waved her hand vaguely towards the library as they came back down the hall.

“Do you still question Varric’s decision?” Lucanis asked casually.

“Do you?” She shot back.

He thought about the question for a moment.

“If she were the wrong person for the job,” he said finally, “I don’t think she’d have gotten this far. The four of you technically completed the job. All of this… wasn’t even part of the plan, as far as I understand.”

Lace chuckled. “That’s a very political answer. But, you’re right. Naimy’s job was to stop Solas if he wouldn’t listen to Varric. That’s what she did.”

Lace looked away from him then, and he sensed the tension rising in her, the sadness. “She stepped up when I… I barely had my feet under me. I just wish…”

Lace shook her head. “I wish she knew Neve and I are here for her, that she doesn’t have to be so strong about it all.”

“I think she will,” Lucanis said gently. “She holds both of you in very high regard. When she is ready, I’m sure it will be the two of you she goes to first.”

“Thanks for… taking care of her. And for listening,” Lace said, eyeing him up and down.

“Of course,” he inclined his head. “Good night, Lace.”

“Good night… Lucanis.”

——————————————————————————

NOTE

There was always going to be a kitchen cat in this scene… now that he’s gone, I wrote in *my* cat. So, this one’s for you, Huckleberry. Now the internet knows how much you loved having your chin scratched.

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Austria 2016

-I might have Pavlov-ed myself into believing that car sounds make me happy

-Nico Hulkenburg is p2??!

-Why are there so many grid penalties- what happened in this qualifying session?

-I hate watching races where Nico qualifies well, I always have to confront the fact that he actually never stays there in the end

-Oh it’s Seb’s birthday!

-“Could this be the day that Force India capitalize on Nico Hulkenburg’s top qualifying position?” Don’t make it worse please

-Oh that’s not a good start- Wehrlein is in the wrong grid spot

-“Nico Hulkenburg has lost a place or two” :/

-“Jenson Button already forming a bit of a buffer for his former teammate” Yay DRS train

-Aah Nico vs Nico

-“Hulkenburg’s lost two places in the span of two corners”

-Max really be just following the top cars and making everyone’s lives difficult

-Both Ferraris making moves at the same time>>

-Also Kimi p2!!

-“That’s Vettel on his former teammate”

-Nico has fallen to p8. I knew this was going to happen but it still sucks.

-Nico R overtaking here much faster than he did in Canada

-Nico H pitting already?

-“Okay Daniel, we might be stopping soon, push now, push now”

-Very impressed by Lewis going long on those tires and still maintaining pace

-“I do think we need to just keep Raikkonen in mind a little bit because he’s driving himself into contention” Yes, let’s go!

-No way Nico’s taking those tires to the end

-Nice, Hulkenburg’s still in the points

-Nevermind, I spoke that into non-existence

-Ohmygod no wait, Nico fought back

-And he’s lost it again

-Did Nico R just successfully undercut Lewis?

-Ayy Ferrari called in Kimi too late. They were 1-2 and now Kimi’s in p6

-Hehe Kevin being a menace

-Why is Nico H pitting again??

-Seb?? Ohmygod?? Did his tire just burst?

-“Has Ferrari left it too long to bring him into the pits?” Aaah I’m going to scream

-Him just sitting there on the track is awful

-I have realized just now, watching Nico leading this race, that I’ve never actually watched a race where he wins. What the hell?

-I completely missed the safety car pit stop games because of that realization

-I don’t think any of the top five cars pit again though?

-So cute all the cars following the safety car through the pit lane

-“Red Bull sitting pretty, Verstappen and Ricciardo 3 and 4”

-Whyyy is Nico Hulkenburg p16?!

-“There’s some Ferrari hanging off the front of that Mercedes” Hehe

-Yesss Checo! Double overtake!

-Checo practically carried that team fr

-Nico and Kevin getting penalties basically at the same time. Their teammate agenda started early

-Felipe Nasr leading a DRS train>>

-“Nico Rosberg leads by two seconds” Ohmygod am I finally about to watch him win?

-“There are twenty of them on track but it’s looks like there are thirty on there doesn’t it, with the amount of scraps” It really does! With everyone so bunched up

-Checo and Massa have been battling for so long, they overtook the same guy together to continue battling

-“I’m really missing radio communication in f1” I too would like to hear more radios

-“Jenson Button is having a good afternoon isn’t he?” WHY ISN’T NICO HULKENBURG??!

-“Verstappen- the non-Mercedes man, in a podium position”

-NH: “Guys I think I’m bailing out, there’s so much vibration” Ajhshsbsbhsggsg

-Man I forgot about his five second penalty, he might as well have retired

-LH: “Okay Lewis close that gap as much as you can, it’s hammer time”

-Ooh good pit stop for Lewis

-Good pit stop for Nico too

-They really be so evenly matched

-“This is going to get punchy isn’t it” Bring it on!

-LH: “Why is he on a softer tire than me?!”

-Huh when did Kvyat retire?

-It’ll be hilarious if Max wins this race by going till the end on those tires

-Honestly it must be so terrifying being hunted down by both Mercedes rocket ships

-Ah that was a good move from Nico

-Ughh traffic while trying to overtaking must be the worsttt

-Never seen Ricciardo and Button battling before. This is fun

-Yesss late on the breaks babyyy

-Massa, Alonso and Hulkenburg retiring?!

-Yes traffic must suck. I’m pretty sure Nico’s cursing them out right about now

-Ohmygodd no wayyyy!!!

-Checo?!

-“He’s been passed by the Red Bull and the Ferrari as well!”

-How did all of this happen in the last lap?!?

-I thought Nico was going to win!!!

-LH: “I was on the outside. It wasn’t me that crashed”

-I’m in such shock, I’m still reeling

-“I don’t think there will be a hug between the two drivers” These commentators just do their best to add more drama don’t they?

-On the flip side though, Kimi podium!! (Also Carlos points!)

-Ooh this is Max’ second podium (Man’s first podium was a win- how cool)

-MV: “What happened there?”

LH: “ *scoffs* He made a mistake into turn 1 in the last lap”

KR: *watching with interest *

-I love debriefs with the older drivers

[qveyr]

High Maintenance: A Spoiled Doll in a Man’s Arms

notes: gn! reader x shiu kong, fluff, heavy and vulgar profanities are used, grammatical errors might be seen, and the pictures used are from Pinterest. enjoy reading ;)

So pretty for him. Always pretty even when you’re sleeping. So pretty even when you’re doing nothing. Well, you do nil. But can you do something when he gives you a special treatment until you become rottenly spoiled? Hell, he pays for everything. Whether it’s for expensive wants to satisfy yourself, or the prices needed to pay before the deadline of it. And because of that, you only have one mode of existence: high maintenance.

Always expecting high qualities of all bullshits. But he can’t blame himself. He likes you to look expensively delicious. And it was true, you were naturally lavish and always wanting pretty things for your pretty self.

He is expensive. Matured. Attractive. You love him more than you think. You have such deep fondness for him. Deep attraction to him. You couldn’t care less if people hate you for your preference. You love older men, and it was proven by you, of course.

Your eyes are closed, quietly sleeping as Shiu Kong is waiting for you to rouse up. Your chest falls up and down rhythmically, appearing to be peaceful and soft as your body is curled up slightly in a comfortable position. However, your sleep was interrupted by a finger poking playfully at your waist, teasing you to wake up even early in the morning. It seems like Shiu is the first one to wake up, as he’s just waiting for you to open your eyes and see how gorgeous he is in the morning.

“Shiu, it’s still early in the morning…” You rose your head from his chest, sleepiness visible on your face. “What’s your problem, baby?”

“Morning, dollface,” his voice was deep like the Mariana Trench. Exaggerated, but to describe it perfectly, it was a few octaves lower, lower than usual. It’s languid and lazy just like his words, it rolls off his tongue easily and smoothly. “Goodness, I have no work today, remember? Let me worship you since I have all the time in the world currently, sweetheart,” his voice was a low murmur as he sets his large hand on your nape, his thumb gently brushing the back of your neck. “Agree with this, doll. Before I become sleepy and drift myself to sleep again.”

“Tch, it wasn’t necessary to poke me on the waist just to disrupt my beauty sleep, you big boy, tool, idiot, Mr. Man who is addicted to cigarettes—”

A lot of insults could have continued when Shiu suddenly pressed his lips towards yours to stop the dumb words coming from your pretty little mouth. Afterward, he used the pad of his thumb and placed it on your lips. Fucking early in the morning and you’re already insulting me as if I ain’t your man. Already lively to assault your boyfriend, huh? “Out with it, doll. Bullying is a crime, you know that?”

You removed the digit from your lips, a scowl painting your expression. “It’s not if I do it. You annoy me a lot, Shiu.” Despite the harsh comment that you replied, you eventually cupped his face with your small hands, a pout forming on your lips. The fuck? The mood swing is insane. For a second, you were just bullying him. But now? You’re acting like you really missed him.

Well, you really do.

“You have no work, right?”

“Indeed.” He stares at your face a little too long, probably because he missed admiring your features. It’s been a long time since he did that. It’s nothing special really, but there’s a hidden charm in the way he looks at you. Makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. “Then let’s date.” You requested.

“Going to deplete my money again?”

“Shiu, pamper me today.”

“Respectfully, doll.”

[vidavalor]

Ohh, there's a thought, @schattenhonig! I headcanon that he knew Leonard Bernstein but somehow have never really considered whether or not Shostakovich is one of the composers that he met.

There's also the, ah, knew or the knew aspect of this question 😉...

There's the pun in there-- "most art's one of ours"-- and the aspect of influencing art through miracles, patronage, and sometimes giving humans their own artistic works the way we saw in the 1601 scene and all of that then resulting in how, since they've been on Earth for the start, most human art is influenced indirectly in some way by some piece of art they've made or helped midwife into existence. It's also I think a reference to how they both get off on art.

There are other instances like the "mozart/most art's one of ours" where words like "ours" being spoken about Hell or Heaven by one of them in public to sound as if they are loyal to their respective sides in case they're overheard but where the word choices they're making really refer to them and their relationship under the surface.

The sentence "Mozart's one of ours" could then also, potentially, not just be referring to them having contributed in some way to the development of Mozart's music but possibly also suggestive of them, at least for a time, periodically taking interesting humans to bed together, with Mozart having been one of their lovers.

This is helped along a bit by the "first-class composers" discussion also having that level of innuendo that amounts to Crowley semi-jokingly reminding Aziraphale that there's going to be no art, no good music, just celestial harmonies, and no sex for all of eternity up in Heaven because Crowley and everyone Aziraphale would ever find artistically and/or sexually inspiring will be Down in Hell with Crowley.

While I'm sure all the composers that Crowley then goes on to list are actually in Hell, there are also wordplay reasons why Crowley seems to be naming the specific ones that he does in the scene. Schubert is also the German word for a cobbler, for instance, and Beethoven and "all of the Bachs" (all of the meanings of the word bach) tie into C&A's history as well.

Everything Crowley lists on the park bench in the scene is really referring to the two of them, even as they're also referring to the things as heard on the surface that Aziraphale loves. It starts in the composers parts of the scene, not just with what comes afterwards. Their private, word-nerdy vocabulary is gravlax in dill sauce. Crowley is the fascinating little restaurants that know Aziraphale and the two of them together are the old bookshops. The composers' names that Crowley lists though also are chosen to be about them, even as it's working on the surface level as that they're also some of Aziraphale's favorite composers.

Aziraphale really does love the music of Beethoven, Schubert, and all of the Bachs, but, even if you take "Mozart was one of ours" as also having the sexual connotation, it's interpretable if the rest of the composers Crowley lists also fit that same criteria or if it's just on the level of Crowley's joke that is about Aziraphale's genuine love for classical music... and, um, classical music lol. Crowley's teasing tone makes me think it's more the latter when it comes to the other composers.

If you interpret it that way, there were then likely other, interesting, creative, human artists and scientists and the like besides Mozart that Crowley and Aziraphale might have have slept with (Da Vinci? Michelangelo? Galileo?). Obviously, they didn't have a hand in every artistic or scientific thing that's ever happened on Earth, nor did they sleep with every innovative human they've ever met 😂 and there's a lot of work that they just admire in its own right... but it does add a layer of the potential question of whether or not any of these humans throughout the story/history were also their lovers.

Maybe they're just really big fans of the work of Oscar Wilde and Freddie Mercury-- many people are. Maybe they met or knew them but had nothing to do with their work. Maybe they knew them more intimately. Maybe they knew them but it's just that there are bits of their works that were influenced by Crowley and/or Aziraphale, the way that passages of Shakespeare's work is canonically in Good Omens Crowley & Aziraphale's love poetry. This could be why Aziraphale is so protective of his Wilde first editions-- not even just a love for the work--which would, of course, be fine in its own right-- but maybe because some of that work is really his and/or Crowley's? It could be the same with the music of Queen, for all we know.

I think we've all noticed the parallel between Gabriel making the jukebox play "Everyday" no matter what song is selected (those poor humans in that pub lol) and The Bentley somehow always making every cd that Crowley puts into it eventually become The Best of Queen. Is that really because they helped write some of those songs? "You're My Best Friend" is the most Aziraphale-written song this side of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square." Either they just really relate to the music of Queen or they influenced it or a bit of both? Whenever I hear that ooh you're making me live now honey in Good Omens, though, I think of how it doesn't feel like it's about Aziraphale so much as it feels like Aziraphale could have written it.

So, I guess it might depend on what kind of meeting of Shostakovich we might be talking about...

Aziraphale vs Shostakovich

For a long time now I wanted to write something about Aziraphale's choice to listen to Shostakovich at the beginning of S2. Shostakovich is not an 18th century composer as some joke about Aziraphale being stuck in the past. He's not a romantic, sweet composer either. But a composer who wrote most of his work in the middle of 20th Century. Under the oppressive Soviet regime of Stalin and more.

There's so much about...the way he lived and worked, in constant fear, that just, begs to be compared to how Aziraphale feels. I just never felt I knew enough about Shostakovich to make a post about him and do it justice. I still don't. But. I was listening to this classical music and history course today - not focused on Symphony No. 5 (1937) that Aziraphale was listening to, but Symphony No. 13 (1962) - written in the brief 'Thaw' of Khrushchev, who condemned Stalin's just ended, rule of terror. The professor (Robert Greene - all his courses are amazing btw) nails it when he describes how Shostakovich's career felt:

There's a lot more in the whole chapter but I was struck by how Aziraphale copes and has coped with living in fear, in terror for 6000 years (and much more, since we see him worried in Before the Beginning too). Not just for himself, but like everyone in Russia, for his loved ones too.

Imagine. Living in terror of your friends being taken away. Your spouse. Your parents.. Of you being found a traitor and executed. Afraid of talking to anyone, about anything. Constantly having to praise the regime you live in or you will disappear. Never knowing who is watching. Who is listening.

Constantly. Afraid. Of. A. Knock. At. The. Door.

[thelemoncoffee]

so i found a really old au idea i had but went absolutly nowhere with, in fact it went so nowhere the only proof of it's existence was the sentence "talent swap but make it freaky friday"

i'm pretty sure the intent behind this concept was either the whole v3 cast or just saiouma getting into a situation where their talents got swapped and they had to get use to having a wildly different talent while trying to get them swapped back.

depending on your preference i think this au could work both as a hpa au where Miu's inventions are the source of the problem, and as a ingame au where the swapping is a motive of sorts.

either way i think it'd just fun to think about Saiouma adapting to having each other's talents. it could probably get pretty angsty if you wanted too, with one or both looking at the other and convincing themselves the other is better at utilizing his talent better than himself. idk how well it'd work with Kokichi doubting his ability to use his own talent, but if you hc him to have impostor syndrome like i do it might be easier