#but it's kind of stiff? and feels a little bit bland to me

[end-orfino]

huuueugh i can feel an art block/crisis incoming

[medullamindset]

STEB HEADCANONS :>

Uhhhm YEAH a few headcanons ive collected since act 3 came out in november 😸 enjoy Stebnation, or dont idk

This is very short and boring but its easier to write him in an actual scenario so TRUST IN ME MY UPCOMING STUFF WILL BE BETTER 😿

Content warnings: Established relationship w Reader, miiiild mention of knifeplay but its easily looked past. My opinion on his race.

NSFW marked this pink!

• He cannot be any older than 30. I'd bet hes like 23-27. Idk how old u have to be to be a field medic/enforcer??

• Hes around 6'4.. Tall guy. ♥︎‿♥︎

• His frill thingies seem to lie flat to his face with "down" emotions, such as shame/guilt and sadness. But they point straight out with more intense emotions, like suspense, anger, exitement, worry. I love the way they flutter sometimes, as a subtle reaction. Like when they saw the Zaunites walking over the bridge to aid in the war, his frills were like "oh, wow.."

But also how they shot straight out with suspense when Ambessa wanted Caitlyn to b commander and everyone was banging their chests and stuff.

• I'd like to imagine his frills flutter a few times in a row when he orgasms, like the shockwaves of pleasure, but also post-orgasm. Maybe they go hand in hand with his nervous system kinda?

• His tip is the same color as his eyelids. His nails seem to be beige too.

• He CAN talk he just chooses not to if he feels he doesnt need to. Short sentences if he has to, small nods and shakes of his head, LOOKS. his face is VERY expressive, but thats more of a fact than a hc. body language is a key communication of his.

• Hes def always been the quiet type, ever since he was six he hasn't been big on speaking.

But sometimes you cheat the system.. Having your back turned to him when you ask him a question just so you can hear his voice, even just to get a little "mhm" from him <3

• On the rare occasion that he does speak his voice is kinda hoarse and gravelly from lack of use UGHHHH *squirts everywhere*

• hes a bit of a "bland" person, hes not boring.. Just a very simple man. He reads practically anything, carries your bags when you're out shopping, he literally just goes wherever you wanna go. He hangs over your shoulders when you do ur makeup, cooks breakfast most mornings, cleans when he feels its needed cuz he doesn't like messes, he'll have music on in the background tho and it's usually one of your vinyls that's playing, makes him feel closer to you <3

Simple things man. deeply emotional and caring too. Hes so kind and eager to help ugh MY SHAYLAA.

• hes a bit socially awkward, he doesnt have social anxiety, hes just kinda stiff and quiet around people.

• what the fuck does he do all day, really?

• I feel like he'd like dancing with his lover but he thinks hes bad at it so hes a bit awkward <333 put his hands around ur waist for him tho and he'd turn into even more speechless mush, everytime.

• Has a gummy smile thats really evident when he laughs so he tries not too, might let a grin slip in private tho c: and close mouthed chuckling/snickers.

• Loves being carressed, hold his face in your hands and trace his cheekbones with ur thumbs? FOLDS. Running your fingers up and down the fins at the back of his head when his face is in your neck? PUTTY.

• Speaking of fins, they continue down to to his lower back, shorter at the bottom but longest between his shoulderblades. He also has darker spots(scales?) Like the other fishfolk in Arcane on his outer arms and thighs. See this post of mine for a ref :)

• he drinks alot of water, like ALOT. his throat get dry easily cuz hes.. Yk, fish.. Atleast half-fish. He'll remind his partner to do the same, no matter your race cuz its good for u, he'll nudge u with a glass in hand and a small tug at his lips, or simply just leave it beside u as a silent reminder.

• Loves holding hands. like, he just LOVES it. He'll act nonchalant abt it but on the inside his heart is just blossoming 💗

Like imagine you're at a café or a bar or a diner WHATEVER and ur just sitting infront of him yapping abt ur day or smth ur planning while holding his hand over the table, and he'll just be buzzing with love, rubbing your soft skin with his thumb, feeling lucky his blush doesnt show (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

• ABSOLUTELY ADORES kisses. He just finds them so sweet and intimate (cuz they are. But i mean like, he doesn't ever NOT think about it after kissing you, hes always locked on target y'know, he only sees you. He only feels you when kissing your lips, he'll kiss u like its the end of the world.. even if hes just getting up to go to the bathroom or something.)

• he just loves you so much, please kiss him, everywhere. Theres not a single spot of him you could kiss that wouldn't make him shiver (the good way).

• Steb is not much for hardcore kinks in bed. He doesnt "fuck", he makes love. In his eyes there truly isnt any purer form of intimacy than sharing something like that, giving away a piece of yourself to this person, your souls spiritually intertwined and yadiyadayada (it's true tho)

• He will go harder if you ask him to, hes not afraid to make you scream with pleasure. Also, bite him and hes a goner. Omg if hes like treating u so nicely in the sack you gotta bite down on something to contain yourself, pls let it be his shoulder, please leave pretty imprints of you canines all over his neck and chest. And hickeys too HNNGHH

Makes him groan so deliciously. Hips snapping into yours just a liiiittle more harshly than intended.

He'll bite you back carnally if you'll let him, Steb gets so lost in it sometimes..

• Hes open to experimentation tho, like if theres something you reallyreallyreally wanna try he'll be like 'euuughgghggggrhggh okay yk what fine', as long as he doesn't have to hurt you, not too much anyway. The idea of inflicting pain-pain on the person he loves makes him queasy.

• But if hes really fucking horny at some point, watching you take the front seat and play around w his gills, scratch at his chest, put a hand around his neck or.. Idk drag a knife gently across his skin while topping he'll literally whine, digging his dull nails into your sides, holding on for dear life.

• He loves being called petnames. Serious and silly ones. His favorites have gotta be Love, Darling, Baby and pretty boy.. All the sappy stuff. One time you called him 'Gorgeous' and his frills shot straight out for a solid three seconds.. If he already didn't speak, he'd be speechless then. CUZ HES A GORGEOUS MAN.

Or that one time you called him 'fishface' and he just slumped in defeat when he heard you giggle, knowing that one was gonna stick around.

You'll enter the kitchen where hes making something to eat and just go "Hey, Fishface! So--!" Continuing to yap and he just rolls his eyes with a lopsided, lovesick grin u cant see from behind him. From anybody else it'd piss him off, but it's you, So he lets it slide.

• he has the warmest and weirdly softest fuckin hands ever. They're never clammy or sticky, just nice and toasty, perfect.

• is the type to grab your hands in the winter and rub them if theyre cold, trying to transfer his warmth over, even if hes also freezing. breathing hotly onto them.

• speaking of winter he probably HATES IT. He gets SO cold SO easy, hes shaking in his boots fr. A frozen fishstick fr. Like jesus. But the palms of his hands stay warm for some reason..

adding to that hes def a sweater fiend.. He LOVES knitted sweaters and hoodies and TURTLENECKS. HE'D LOOK SO GOOD IN A TURTLENECK. TELL ME IM WRONG. LIKE A BIG, FAT, KNITTED ONE THAT GOES UP TO HIS JAW. Even better if you knit/crocheted them for him <33

• I headcanon that his dad is a human and his mom is a fish person cuz he has hair and rounded teeth which other fishfolk we see don't. We don't see any other fishfolk from piltover tho.. So maybe hes just slapped on a wig, peel-off eyebrows and filed his teeth down (which is INSANELY painful btw) to look "socially acceptable". I HEAVILY doubt that, when i rascism like that ever shown in Arcane, Piltover specifically? 🤔 Im not even gonna get into that whole Vastaya thing cuz i dont know enough.. I heard they can decide how many animal features they show as they please and that they're like deeply connected to magic and live really long.. But that isn't mentioned or even nodded to in Arcane so im just gonna pretend that doesnt exist lol sorry

• but ya he adopted alot of his moms fishy features but also human-ish hair and teeth from his dad.

•speaking of his parents, i do feel like Steb was raised kinda strictly? Idk i just feel like his parents would be very uptight and that stuck with him all the way into adulthood, he stands super upright and is well proper while on the job because thats just what hes been taught.

hes alot more relaxed at home tho, where he knows he doesn't have to be or look presentable for anyone, especially not you. he knows you'll love him even while standing by the fridge in pj's, with a fist full of grated cheese ready to be devoured at circa 2 AM.

• He was raised in a small village on the outskirts, right beside the ocean. Hence he still adores it and loves to go swimming with you, reminds him of his childhood yk c:

• He kinda gives only child vibes to me? Idk the thought of him with an older sibling is kinda cute tho,, i imagine they'd be like complete opposites. They hardly see eachother,, I don't feel like his family lives in Piltover. He had a "Mom, Dad.. I'm 18 now..! I'm moving to the big city. And there is nothing you can do to stop me." Moment, exept in a less verbal way maybe, moving to the city of progress and begining medical and tactical training, to help people. On both sides.

• Hes really good at origami, sometimes when hes at work and droning at his desk with nothing better to do he'll just grab a random paper and fold a little swan together. You've found multiple critters like that scattered around the house, some with faces drawn on, just two inky dots and a derpy smile like this : )

Once he made one of your favorite animal and left it on your nightstand before heading to work, you picked it up and examined it, smile growing even wider when you found the hidden lovenote that was written on it <3

It's now glued neatly into your shared scrapbook/journal along with many more, surrounded by dried flowers and red hearts <33

Uhhhhhhhhhhhrghhhhhhhhhh yeah ❗️🚮 i just debated wether or not this is even worth posting for like twenty minutes.

Pls dont bash me for my opinions now *gulp*

Also heres a lil reminder that im taking requests 💗💗 i love writing i just never have good or original ideas :'o(

[meanbossart]

Hey! I was thinking of trying to write something for you about DU Drow but after a trying to gather stuff about him via your page I’m struggling to get something substantial for his personality- like I get it mostly (I think?) but it’s hard to put into words (which makes it easier for me) so if it’s not too much to ask; how would you explain DU Drows personality and maybe some of his values? - if you don’t mind! I love your art BTW!

Man, this is a tough ask and I MADE the guy. The fic is definitely the best place to see his personality in action, but it is also 20 chapters long so far - and I'm a fairly reasonable man.

Before I get to any descriptions, there's two important things to note: A) Overwhelmingly, his looks do not match his demeanor. and B) DU drow is extremely hedonistic in practice. He might claim to have certain beliefs or standards but hardly ever practices them.

Anyways, I present to you: The guy, more-or-less summarized to the best of my abilities.

BEHAVIOR: Purposefully standoffish. He wants to be noticed, but he does not want to be bothered. He's a little bit stiff with his body language and mostly makes use of head/neck gestures to assert his sentences and signal his level of interest. On that note, me makes it extremely obvious for the socially-versed individual to tell what he thinks of them - he hardly ever tries to hide if he's disinterested, annoyed, or having a laugh at your expense. He expresses emotion through his face a normal amount, but his default look is eerily bland, and subtle emotions might go unnoticed because of his eye-color and thin brows.

As it is with most people, the more uncomfortable he is with a situation the more stiff and inexpressive he becomes, and vice versa.

SPEECH: DU drow is very much well spoken, and simultaneously very blunt. He abides by most conversational formalities (definitely more formal than you would assume him to be) and basic etiquette. He will greet you and he will say please and thank you even if clearly not meaning it or feeling like you're unworthy of the gesture. Sometimes, he does it just to be patronizing.

With all of that in mind, he has a tendency to use violent turns of phrase and analogies to express himself, this applies to both negative and positive feelings. That being said he's aware of social norma and knows full well when things are or aren't appropriate, even if sometimes he chooses to ignore that and be weird anyway - usually with the purpose of intimidation.

He is the most earnest and sincere with very close friends (quite literally only Astarion and Shadowheart) and rather curt with everyone else unless you catch him in a particularly good mood. He's a little chummier with dwarves and duergar (he finds them amusing and fun to hang out with) and reserves a slight bit more tenderness and kindness for children and mothers, especially if they're elves. He's also fond of animals. He is dismissive of gnomes, goblins, bugbears, half/full orcs and hobgoblins. He despises githyanki and drow. He treats humans fairly respectfully but thinks they are a far lesser race than pretty much all others.

He has a very dark/offensive sense of humor and a tendency to make well crafted, but cruel jokes or quips about sensitive topics. This goes for everybody, including people he's on good terms with.

VALUES: Here's where things get tricky. DU drow is both a hypocrite and a unreliable narrator of his own story, not to mention deeply unfamiliar with his own inner-workings and feelings. Politically, he would be the guy who doesn't vote, doesn't want to pay taxes and dreams of living off the grid, who thinks everybody should pull themselves up by the bootstraps and that it's a dog-eats-dog world. He hates systems of government, authority figures, hierarchical structures and archaic customs. He believes it would a chaotic but functional world if people governed themselves.

In practice, he doesn't stand for anything and gladly overlooks injustices and things that don't align with his supposed values as long as they favor him, or just don't get in his way, and easily makes exceptions for things on a whim. He's indifferent to slavery; unless it's Astarion's. - He thinks humans are a worthless pet-race, except for his dearest and nearest friend, the half-elf Shadowheart. He thinks Half-orcs are intellectually inferior, but he will gladly be chummy with them if they amuse him and make for good-company during a night-out.

INNER WORLD AND INTIMACY: DU drow is extremely unfamiliar with his own emotions and very often comes up empty when he has to justify or explain anything that is based on feeling, while simultaneously operating on impulse and instinct for the vast majority of the time. He is subject to fear, resentment, and insecurity as much as anyone else, but carries a deep shame in acknowledging his own vulnerability at all. He is very intense when it comes to love, however, and shows no reluctance in expressing it through his words and actions towards the people he cares about. He does care for the levels of comfort of those dearest to him though, and doesn't bombard them with it unless the moment is right, or if overwhelmed into doing so. The same applies to physical affection - he's extremely comfortable with it, but cares deeply for respecting the boundaries of his loved ones. When it comes to strangers, he only touches them outside of combat if there is some kind of power-game at play.

A couple of other things that might be of note:

-He likes creature comforts, but is also fine with going without them and won't ever complain about having to live, sleep, or survive in less-than-ideal circumstances as long as he feels in control of the situation. -He can be enticed by valuables and gold because they make the immediate future easier, but he doesn't seek a life of vast riches. -He is not an alcoholic but probably has a binge-drinking problem. -While he is fond and respectful of animals, he has no issues killing them if the situation calls for it. -He pretty much always believes himself to be the most impressive person in the room. -He is not a vain man, but very much likes the way that he looks and to have it be acknowledged by his partner. -He believes faith, religion, and gods to be a waste of time.

[vigilskeep]

hi harker :) your post about the M!American VA for the Inquisitor being underrated & F!British VA being your least favorite had me wondering:

what are your opinions about the deliveries of all 4 VAs? as in, do you think there's some specific areas where each shines and/or falls flat in? or specific character archetypes they play well? (no worries if you don't really have an opinion on this tho ^^)

small disclaimer that i haven’t played the whole game with the majority of these so i am totally open to discussion from those who have

female british VA is my least favourite. like i say she does better in plot moments and i quite like the venom she puts into it when she’s angry but i can’t get over how really gratingly bland she sounds in casual conversation/when asking questions. she did not bring the effort for that and it’s so much of the game that i can’t let it slide. good for upper class characters who are a bit stiff and maybe a little socially inept. though actually, fun to play with f!cadash and probably also f!adaar (haven’t tried it) just because the voice itself by nature puts a different spin on those less traditional backgrounds for it

male british VA is okay! another posh one. he always sounds a little wry and amused, which comes off kind of emotionally disengaged. which is good in light scenes and for a certain type of character, but when the feelings should actually hit and he should get angry or upset, a lot of the time i don’t think it quite connects

american female VA is... also okay. i really like the basic sound of the voice and i think it’s very versatile in terms of character type. i also don’t think it had any super amazing moments that stuck in my memory to come to mind. kind of the opposite of the british female VA’s strengths and weaknesses i guess? but can i say i really dislike the assumption in some fan spaces that this voice is only usable for dwarves and qunari as if the actress isn’t literally a human woman like 😭 so weird. i loved her as my lavellan. to me, generally suits a more cool and experienced character

american male VA is easily the best experience i’ve had so far. listening to him do casual conversations is like... wow he is truly the only one of these four who showed up to work every day and actually performed rather than simply reading the lines off the script lmao. he comes off a little more gruff/aggressive overall imo. i do find his deep voice weird coming out of a tiny elven frame if you’re going for a lavellan but it’s not that strange. i still can’t fucking believe he’s zevran

overall i do not think the voice acting is that good in inquisition and i don’t think it’s the fault of the voice actors. from the way lines are often slightly misread compared to what it feels like the line’s intent must have been, or are sometimes just tonally bizarre for the scene, i get the impression the cast had very little direction and were left to do a lot of guesswork on their own

[kn-1013]

Exploratory Surgery #5 - Tough Shit

Summary: Travis loves Sal, but sometimes it seems like Sal likes Larry more. He and Ash talk about it. Word Count: 1952 Rating: G Pairing: Sal/Travis Warnings: N/A

A/N: Some people write Sal and Travis a little too healthy, so I'm here to fix that. Also throwing in one of my favorite headcannons: that Sal and Larry have a really unhealthy and codependent relationship down the line. Also, I'm really into the idea of Travis and Ash being really good friends.

========

“He’s holding onto you with claws and teeth, I hope you know that.” Ash said. She didn’t look at him as he spoke, just stared straight ahead with an expression Travis couldn’t read. Not that he was ever particularly good at reading expressions, but this felt like the kind of expression he should know the meaning of, and he just didn’t. He could only register that she seemed uncharacteristically stiff and bland.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

There was a long pause before she poke again.

“When I dated Sal, I used to get jealous of Larry because of how attached they were. It seemed like no matter what I did, I just couldn’t scratch the same kind of itch that Larry did.” She gave a melancholy smirk. “Which is funny, because when Sal first moved here, I was jealous of him because he was taking up all of Larry’s time, and he was my only friend. Heh.” Travis had a hard time telling if she was actually laughing, or if she was just bitter.

“Eventually, I gave up on trying to be like Larry to him. He’s so attached to the guy in a way that I’ve never really seen before in a person. Some kind of weird, fucked-up, codependent relationship that I’ll just never be able to fit into like Larry does. I don’t know what it is, but he just didn’t attach to me with his fingernails dug in like he did with Larry.” She sniffed, and breathed out, letting the winter fog out of her mouth.

Travis suddenly saw where this was going, and he felt a bit like a deer in headlights.

“But no, I see him with you, and maybe it’s not easy for you to tell, but it is for me. I see it clear as day. He’s got you. Fingernails, teeth, all of it.” Travis started to understand what the meaning of her expression was, that empty blandness. It was all she could do to keep her composure.

“It wasn’t that Larry was special. It’s that I wasn’t. That’s why he didn’t fight that hard when I broke up with him, when I left. He let me do whatever I wanted, and that was it.” She shrugged curtly. “He did everything a good boyfriend should do; he listened to me, he comforted me, he held me. He asked me about my day, he let me bitch about nothing, he braided my hair. When my tics made me punch myself till there were bruises, he would hug me so I’d hit him instead of myself. He did everything to the point where it’s weird that I’m complaining about it, but I am, because he did everything but let me in.�� She sniffed again, and with the way she covertly rubbed her face out of the corner of his eye, Travis could tell she was crying now.

That sounded exactly like Sal.

“Because as much as he might’ve liked me, he just couldn’t find it in him to hold onto me like that. It wasn’t him, or Larry, or you. It’s me.” She shrugged curtly again. “I’m the one that’s not good enough.”

Travis stared ahead at the lake before them in shock. He didn’t know how to respond to any of that. The way Ash used her comparison to put herself down made him feel just as sick as the insinuation that Sal thought he was special made him feel warm.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed, though. He used to be friends with Larry and Ashley, after all. He knew them pretty well, even years after they stopped being friends. He knew Ash especially well because she didn’t live far from him, since they were both in the ‘burbs and Larry was across town, so he always hung out with her the most. He missed her.

The guys of their group call her a ‘lone wolf’, but she never really was. She was just a little bit out of place, and that displacement grew over the years the more it went unaddressed. The more Sal and Larry got closer and left everyone else out.

Travis was well aware of this weird dynamic when he got with Sal. The way Sal had actively done everything his power to hunt down a relationship with him, and still somehow found it in him to choose Larry over him a number of times could often be incredibly jarring. But Travis had never really been in a relationship before, and he hadn’t had proper friends for such a long time that he couldn’t be sure what was supposed to happen and what wasn’t. For a long while he thought that maybe it was just like that when you had a best friend.

But sitting here next to Ash and hearing her talk, it felt like he had a reason to feel like this. Rejected. Forgotten. Left behind.

But Ash was here, letting herself think that it was her fault when it wasn’t, and that’s what Travis couldn’t understand. She seemed to think that Sal was as attached to him as he was to Larry, and that wasn’t true either. He could hear something about ‘cognitive distortions’ in Sal or Todd’s voices, but Travis would say that she was getting caught up in her own head trying to figure out someone she had no means to help, and instead of pushing him to get help from someone else, she just blamed herself for not being able to fix it.

As much as Travis loved Sal, he knew Sal needed help, big help. Help that Travis himself couldn’t give without his own help. But he didn’t blame himself for it. He couldn’t overextend himself trying to help Sal when he knew he was waist-deep in his own shit, that would probably just make things worse. It was weird that Ash didn’t seem to see it that way.

“Well I think you’re an idiot.” Travis said, after a pregnant pause, and the insult clearly startled Ash a bit. “Why on God’s green earth are you comparing yourself to Larry fucking Johnson?”

“’Cus he’s better than me.” Ash spoke quietly and shrugged. Her voice was small, and she sat on the bench pulling into herself sheepishly, her face still cold and blank.

“No he’s not. He’s enabling this.” Travis gestured to the scene they were at right now, in front of the lake.

Ash blinked and turned her head to him, confused.

“Do you know why I’m here right now?” Travis asked, and Ashley shook her head. “I’m here right now, because I wanted to go and stare at the lake for a while, because Sal is with Larry instead of me.” He put his elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his hand, staring at the lake sternly. “It’s the third time this week he’s done this. I asked if he wanted to go to a movie tonight and he said no, that he’s going to be with Larry tonight, and what’s fucked up is I’m still not sure if I want to be mad at him for it or not.”

“Oh.” Ash said quietly.

“Yeah.” Travis replied. “So if he’s holding on to me with claws and teeth, then he’s fucking fused himself to Larry, and Larry would rather cut his hand off than say no to Sal. He’s Sal’s number one, always at his beck and call, he’d slit his own throat if Sal asked him to. I don’t even know if he’s aware of how attached they are or how fucked up it is, how fucked up they both are.”

“They both have mega abandonment issues.” Ash replied.

“Well their relationship is giving me abandonment issues.” Travis glared at the lake ahead, his lip sneering as another silence overtook them.

He’d been bottling this up for months, letting it stew and rot and ferment inside of him for entirely too long. He knew to an extent the hot mess that he was getting himself into with Sal, and for the most part he honestly didn’t have as much trouble dealing with it as he thought he would as long as he rolled with it, but this was the one thing that just kept hurting, over and over and over.

And Ash had probably been letting it bottle up for years, so he could only imagine what it must’ve felt like for her.

“You compare yourself to other people too much.” Travis said, breaking their quiet again. “Sal isn’t like this because you’re not special, or not good enough, or whatever, Sal is like this because he’s fucked up beyond our wildest imaginations. He doesn’t attach to other people the way everyone else does. There’s something that’s just, I don’t know, not right about the way he is with people. He’s friendly, he’s social, but… I don’t know.” He sighed. “Evidently, he wants to be around other people. He wants relationships, and friends, and other stuff. But somehow, Larry just takes priority over everything. I think he’s somewhat aware of it, but I don’t think he knows what it is or how to fix it either. I don’t know how much he wants to.”

The two of them continued staring straight ahead into the lake quietly.

“Sal needs help. Help that we can’t give. That’s not your fault, or even his.” Travis wasn’t sure if he was telling that to Ash or trying to remind himself of that fact.

“I guess you’re right.” Ash replied. “I just wish I realized that a bit sooner. Before I burnt myself out trying to help him and kind of ruining my relationship with him in the process.” She laughed a bit bitterly.

Travis leaned back in his spot on the bench, putting his hands on the back of his head as he stared at the night sky. “I don’t know what to do. We could push him to help, but it’s not like he’d listen. He fucking hates doctors, and Larry would probably take his side no matter what. I just don’t know what we could do about it right now. It’s so fucked, dude.” Now it was Travis’ turn to laugh bitterly, and Ash joined him.

They fell into another silence, but this time it didn’t feel as uncomfortable as before.

Ash was the one to break it this time. “Thanks.” She said. “For the talk. I-I know I get in my head sometimes, and I don’t talk to people about it. I needed it.”

“I should thank you too. I…” Travis sighed. “I don’t have friends to talk to about this, and I’m just some, fucking, stupid virgin who doesn’t know anything about anything. I know Sal is fucked up, but I don’t know. If I’m not careful, I might just keep letting him do it until I hate him. And I don’t wanna hate him.” His expression turned melancholy as he started tracing out constellations in his head.

“Well, from now on, you can talk to me.” Ash said, a small smile on her face. “Maybe we can figure something out together.”

He looked to Ash out of the corner of his eye, and gave a small smile back. “Yeah, maybe we can.”

Travis left his cell phone at his apartment, so he went home with Ashley’s number written on his hand with a sharpie she found in her pocket, and somehow, it felt like a missing piece he hadn’t noticed somehow shifted back into place. It felt good. Right.

His relationship with Sal probably wasn’t going to change any time soon, but it was nice to know that someone finally had his back about it.

[verdictvelvet]

Dragon Quest III

hell yes. played the snes version due to long looking at it from afar and going 'oh shit that's a really pretty game'. and it is! though i don't know how additive i found some of the mechanical changes

i had basically the opposite arc with this one that i did with dragon quest ii, where at the start i really wasn't feeling it. the customizable party and class systems just weren't working for me, the early game exploration felt kinda stiff and bland, and, with dq2 so fresh in my memory, i almost set it down after getting the boat. but it really picks up after that i think! the sea exploration manages to feel a lot more driven, theres lots of really fun bits of event sequencing, and the structure of finding hints out there worked a lot better for me

the rest of this post goes under a readmore because i decided to be mindful of dragon quest iii spoilers

the actual thing is that i knew going in that dragon quest iii would invariably wind up being about dragon quest i and i was worried that this would sort of fully subsume everything kind of interesting about it for the sake of going 'congrats buddy! you were erdrick the whole time' in the face of half the npcs in the beginning of the game telling you how cool and important it is that you're the hero. nobody wants to play the story of how the guy everybody already thinks is cool and special became the coolest, most special guy ever

but it really comes together in the end! theres sort of a growing melancholy as you find more and more of your plot resolving trinkets as a result of witnessing something kind of sad, and following up games that sort of invented this structure of 'you beat the boss, now you get to go home and everybody celebrates you' with. 'actually you literally can't go back, you're stuck here now' is simple, but it really works as a capstone on that building undercurrent. its cool when the game's a little sad even if i just don't think it plays that good

[moviewarfare]

A Review of “The Flash (2023)”

The Flash is a hero I adore from the comics. It is crazy that it took this long for him to have a live-action movie. Unfortunately, the DCEU Flash movie went through development hell. It had multiple directors leave the project, multiple delays, multiple reshoots, the Ezra controversy, and constant changes in leadership at WB. Despite all these shenanigans, does this movie manage to deliver a great Flash movie?

Firstly, they do deliver some strong and emotional moments. It's hard to be angry at Flash for wanting to save his mother and prove his Dad innocent. Seeing Flash cope with the unintended butterfly effects of going back in time and saving his mother, is a great concept. Barry's desperation to save this timeline because his mother still lives is powerful stuff. It has a heartfelt story of grief which I liked. Funny enough, Ezra has great chemistry with himself. Ezra plays the original and new timeline Barry who both interact with each other throughout the movie. I like the contrast between a slightly more mature and serious original Barry compared to the younger whiny new Barry. There are some genuinely funny moments between the two. I am also impressed by how convincingly they made it seem like there were 2 Ezras on set.

One of the biggest selling points of this movie is Michael Keaton's return as Batman. It is great seeing him again even though his performance can feel a bit stiff and wooden. I was worried about how they could convince me that a 70-year-old Batman would still be capable of fighting. However, the action scenes with him are awesome and very enjoyable. Ben Affleck also returns as DCEU Batman for 1 last time. He is not in it for long but he is good as well. His action scenes are pretty entertaining and his scene with Barry is a highlight. The music score by Benjamin Wallfisch is wonderful and I love how he incorporates the classic Danny Elfman Batman theme. The greatest part though is Sasha Calle as Supergirl. She is terrific despite not being in it for long. I also think the costume team nailed the Michael Keaton Batsuits and the Supergirl suit as they both look exceptional!

Unfortunately, the Ben Affleck Batsuit looks terrible. It is ugly and doesn't even feel like a proper Batsuit. Likewise, the Flash suit just doesn't look great. It looks too polished and very plastic looking. There are scenes where it looks like a guy in a giant red condom rather than a proper superhero suit. On that note, I am very mixed about Ezra Miller as Flash. He was all right in Zack Snyder's Justice League as he was more of a supporting role with a better script. However, his performance in this film comes off as way more obnoxious and annoying. It doesn't help that new timeline Barry is meant to be annoying on purpose but the result is both Barry's are infuriating. He does deliver during the more emotional moments but at other times, not so much.

I am also very disappointed in the action scenes with the 'Flash'. While the Batman action is awesome, the action scenes with Flash are just not that satisfying. They are bland to look at, especially when compared to speedster scenes from X-Men and even Avengers. The 3rd act in this movie is a little overwhelming with the amount of things going on. There are some things concerning the multiverse that occurs as well but feels kind of contradictory to the rules set. I also find the ending terrible and contradicts the whole message of the movie. Additionally, they do something in the ending that raises more questions than answers and feels a little dumb if they are rebooting the universe. My major gripe though, is the atrociously bad CGI. A lot of the shots in this film look very ugly thanks to poor CGI. Some scenes look like it is straight out of a video game than a movie. They also use it to recreate people's likeness including dead people and it is disgusting to look at.

Overall, what a massive disappointment this ended up being. You can see some element of great in it but it is all overshadowed by the bad. It is sad to see how poor the last couple of entries in the old DCEU are. It makes me more appreciative of James Gunn rebooting the DCEU. We still have 1 proper DCEU movie left with Aquaman 2 but my hopes aren't high.

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[misireads]

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

[ physical book, read in finnish & english ]

the story of a man who starts off as stale as if the colour beige was a human. he's a diligent office worker in a government department that evaluates orphanages for magical children. he's so good at making bland, objective reports that the stuck-up management of the department decides to send him to an orphanage for particularly troublesome monster children, hidden away on a remote island in the middle of nowhere. the man takes a train there, fearing for his life because he's pre-emptively so scared of these children.

on the island, after a rough start, he befriends the children and begins to learn how he's been living a stupid, prejudiced, boring life with no colour in it whatsoever all this time. also he falls for the leader of the orphanage and they have a gay little romance.

👨‍💼🌊🧚‍♀️

➕ obvious first things first. this is a gay love story, i'm all for it. a really soft and sort of mundane one about two middle-aged men too, where them being gay isn't a big deal, actually it's probably the smallest deal of them all. lol the romance was incredibly cheesy but you never see THAT in literature

➕ it's a hearty story about prejudice and acceptance. magical beings in this world are so viscerally hated that nobody cares about your sexual orientation or skin colour, but if you're a dragon or some shit then YUCK! EW! STAY AWAY FROM THE CHILDREN YOU HEATHEN! it's kind of amazing. this is also completely void of any mention of religion which i enjoyed. all the bigoted hate and prejudice in the entire universe is truly just packed into there existing magical people in this book. i personally felt it first and foremost symbolised the lack of empathy for people with disabilities (both physical and mental) because there are so many nudges towards that, but it's probably just in general also. angry goodreads reviews are saying it's a very poorly executed nudge towards native americans actually but i'll run with my own interpretation anyway

➕ hands down my favourite thing in the entire book is lucy. he's the reason i originally kept reading at all because i was so enamored by a little 6yo satan. i could have read a whole book just about him really.

➖ well this is a tough one to review. basically what happened was that i took the finnish translation from the library. and i kind of fucking hated it. it's a very literal-feeling translation, a lot of the dialogue is so stiff you barely understand what the characters are sometimes talking about, the language felt very infantile. i don't think the magical creature translations really work. they turned talia into a goblin instead of a gnome, that's a whole fucking different creature? there are just many many things i don't like about it. then i suddenly had to return the book to the library so i put a reservation on the original english one, thinking if i'm gonna finish this, it has to be in english. so i got that one and had no issues with the language or anything else whatsoever. i should definitely have read in english from the beginning. i didn't return it to the library yet so i might go back to the beginning and revisit some of the scenes in english to actually understand what happened

➖ this is like.. well it's not a very small children's book, and not exactly for teenagers either because the contents are so softcore, i feel. it's either for rather childish adults or for pre-teen children, maybe. edit: actually i don't see anyone call this a children's book online, just "YA" which it fucking isn't. much confusion. are you telling me this nonsense is a book for adults. either way, although the message is very good and all, the whole book is hopelessly childish in a way that made me feel like it didn't need to be. it's just a bit too simplistic at times, like helen's character, she does a 360 in a matter of a couple of lines with very little basis. idk how to well put it, maybe that it felt like there's ingredients for more here and that the characters are built in such a way that they could have been so much more if only the book took itself more seriously and went deeper at all instead of staying so surface level and turning everything into a joke. the entire plotline was also very predictable, basically you can tell what happens as soon as linus it sent to the island and that doesn't make a very exciting book to get through.

➖ i hated linus so fucking much in the early chapters lmao i get it that it's all about his growth but man. the premise of his character is that he's excellent at his job, very good at being objective, does his background work super well. then he goes to this island job and is immediately mad prejudiced (although working with magical kids is literally his job, this job he's supposedly so good at, but now he suddenly can't take them anymore), proceeds to not even read the files of the children. he goes to this orphanage that HE KNOWS from THE INFORMATION HE GOT has been as it is for some time, and the first thing he does is hate all the children on sight and decides that lucy will kill everyone in the house any minute now and he's the only force stopping him. although he knows perfectly well from the beginning that lucy has been living with the other kids all this time already without anyone dying. the only difference is that he's there now so why would lucy suddenly blow the place up (other than to kill linus because he's so insufferable, which would have been 100% fair). it was so nonsensical, it felt like the story was just made up on the go without any thought put into if it makes any sense how linus is reacting to things. actually i just hate reactionary characters in general like stop being a fuckign buffoon imbecile and use that brain of yours that's so big. he's literally even complaining about his fucking cat all the time, jesus christ let her be a cat. is it supposed to be funny? then mark down the humour as another minus because it's not

➖ i seem to be the only person on earth who thinks this (edit: goodreads says i am not, in fact) but i wasn't that big a fan of how hard this kept hammering in the EVERYONE!!SHOULD!!BE!!ACCEPTED!!! message, i prefer subtler ways of storytelling tbh not every single scene needs to be about this.

➖ the world building could have had a bit more substance. not much was said about the system of magic existing in this universe so it was all a bit vague.

⭐ score: 3 -- a lot of negative thoughts again but overall i rather liked this, despite my ranting (and being shocked that this isn't for children). i guess something about this touched me deeper than i realised because i was AGAIN crying at the end. what's with me crying at the end of books these days??? what's happened to me. i don't cry at things. i'm probably ill and should call in sick to work

[thesinglesjukebox]

SAY NOW - "NOT A LOT LEFT TO SAY"

And with this pick from William John, we *also* have not a lot left to say. This is our final post of our Amnesty 2k23 special.

[7.57]

William John: We're at the end of 2023, and while the Origibabes are finally back again, they've now got upstarts to contend with. Say Now, known by the dubious moniker "needanamebro" for most of this year, are three young singers who combine imperiousness and beatific harmony; the more things change, the more they stay the same. "Not A Lot Left To Say" goes by in a blink, but perhaps that's by design, given that it's documenting the painful moment of a relationship that sits somewhere between Erykah Badu's "Next Lifetime" and a kind of detached apathy -- to say anything more than nothing seems fruitless. The song's spacious production reminds me of "Everything is Embarrassing," Dev Hynes' classic traipse through the gloom with Sky Ferreira. It was Hynes who guided Mutya, Keisha and Siobhan back from the figurative dead ten years ago, and while they're hardly in danger of being replaced just yet, I'm excited by the prospect of Ysabelle, Amelia and Maddie continuing their legacy. [9]

Nortey Dowuona: Ysabelle starts the song off on a tough but wistful tone, feeling a bit let down by how it all collapsed and ended, but slowly accepting the outcome. Amelia is completely over it all, wanting badly to move on and put it all behind her. Maddie is still not over it, still longing for those close days. But Amelia, allowed the only direct riff on the bridge, soars, her unspoken hurt lingering in those notes, then she returns to the alcove of the group, all of them united in putting this relationship to bed, but quietly wiping a few tears away, hurt yet resolute. [8]

Ian Mathers: Breakup songs that also acknowledge "don't wanna be your friend, don't wanna be your ex" are too few and far between, and this one has a commendable sense of swing, vocal performances, and brevity to match. Like the relationship, it ends just when it needs to. [9]

Michael Hong: Soft girl group harmonies and fluttering club kicks. Where those disappear, the song feels scant, yet the words feel stickier. For the amicable break-up song that "Not a Lot Left to Say" is, are you supposed to only come out thinking about the words "bet I'm still the one?" [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Densely packed pop product -- every line genuinely makes impact, every hook connects with none of the excesses that aspirational pop groups sometimes burden themselves with. This is competent and poised but never stiff; the three of them balance the clear effort they're putting into this attempt with the joy of having the chance to try it. [8]

Will Adams: Formerly known as needanamebro, now known as Say Now. Both names are so bad I assumed this was a Xenomania project. They're not, but the bland UK pop polish of "Not a Lot Left to Say" could have convinced me on its own. [5]

Crystal Leww: One of the most wonderful things about UK pop music is how it's continued the tradition of the girl group in Western pop, which has largely ceded ground to Asia. Say Now follows in a long lineage, which recently just made FLO the Sound of 2023, and "Not A Lot Left To Say" is just stacked and layered harmonies on top of each other. I feel like this is like the **~~Just Girl Things~** version of when the dude at the party busts out the acoustic guitar -- just three girls riffing and seeing how they can jam together and make a little tiny shitting on their ex. Cute! [7]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

I’m up to chapter 7 in “The Quarry”. It’s a lot of fun so far! I’ll do a full-length overview after I finish the game, so for now, here are my mixed reactions:

1) I only have one character dead so far; Emma. I did NOT mean to kill her, my controller literally shut down during a life-or-death choice. I couldn’t reload the game, so unfortunately, the rest of my playthrough will be Emma-less. Which, to be honest, isn’t a huge letdown since Emma was my least favorite character.

2) I’m a little disappointed in how little playtime Kaitlyn gets. Brenda Song is really good in this game, but she’s getting the least amount of screen-time for some reason.

3) I’m very mixed on Ryan. On one hand, he’s my favorite of the cast. On the other hand, Justice Smith’s acting is kinda...bad? I don’t know if it was bad direction or he was just phoning it in, but I can’t tell what emotion he’s conveying in a lot of his lines. I get that his character is laid-back and introverted, but Justice Smith’s acting feels a bit too stiff and wooden.

4) Not a huge fan of the romances. Aside from Max and Laura, I stayed away from all the main romances (Nick/Abi, Jacob/Emma, Ryan/Kaitlyn/Dylan). I don’t know, all the romances felt forced and contrived. Only Max and Laura had any real chemistry.

5) How I’m playing each character (my playstyle for choice-based games is that I play like how I imagine the characters would act, not how I would personally act in the situation):

* Jacob: I know he’s the jerk, but I feel like he’s a harmless jerk. Just a dumbass who wants to have fun and party all the time. So, I’m choosing mainly the non-aggressive options and avoiding confrontation. 

* Emma: She reminded me of Regina George, so I played her as Regina George. Mean girl options only. 

* Kaitlyn: I felt like she’s the mama bear of the group, so I’m mainly picking the responsible options. 

* Dylan: Since he’s the joker of the group, I’m mainly going with the quippy options. So lots of sarcasm, sass, and backtalk. 

* Ryan: Ryan, to me, is the logical loner, as well as the pessimist who is just done with the people around him. So I’m mainly going with the aggressive options, as well as the “boring” ones. For example, during truth or dare, I asked Kaitlyn what she wanted to be (a street performer apparently). Even Kaitlyn pointed out that the question was boring lol. So yeah, my version of Ryan is kind of an asshole to everyone.

* Nick: Nick is kind of a bland character, so I’m mainly just playing him like Jacob 2.0. He’s a teenager who just wants to have fun. 

* Abi: This is a little hard to explain, but I’m playing her like she’s Velma from Scooby-Doo. So I’m mainly picking the options where she’s sarcastic or the ones where she’s being awkward. 

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

[dizzydancingdreamer]

A Very Merry Mikaelson Christmas | The Mikaelson Boys #7 & #22

Request: @rocketshiptoes “Oh my goshhhh could you please do prompts 7 and 22 with all our boys? I feel like it’d be really sweet” I kinda made this angsty at the beginning but it gets fluffy after I hope you love it!!

Prompt(s): “I can’t reach.” & “That mistletoe was not hung with care.” “I tried okay!”

Word Count: 1.9k 

Christmas Master List

You stand on your tiptoes, leaning against the wall with your hand stretched above your head as far as you can reach. It’s a futile mission, you’re nowhere near close to reaching the arch of the doorway. You roll back on your feet, resting your forehead against the exposed brick. The mistletoe hangs limp from your fingers, the red ribbons you tied to the plant tickling your wrists. It taunts you, the strands laughing at your failed attempts to be spontaneous. You just wanted to do something nice, why are the doorways in the compound so tall? 

“Love,” a concerned voice breaks through your moping, “are you okay?”

You squeeze your eyes tighter together, pressing yourself closer to the wall and hiding the mistletoe in your hand. This cannot be happening right now. Klaus’ hands slide over your back, rubbing some warmth through your jumper. You sigh quietly, knowing you’ll have to expose your secret in a moment. This is all just dandy. 

“I’m fine,” you murmur into the wall, hoping he takes the hint and leaves you be.

You bring the mistletoe closer to you, grinding your jaw slightly. If he leaves then maybe, just maybe, you can find a step ladder or something. Maybe push a chair against the wall and jump for it. Climb the wall like a damn spider monkey. Literally anything at this point is an option but first you just need Klaus to disappear. Are you really ever that lucky though? 

You hear another pair of footsteps and almost groan. Why today? 

“Darling?” Kol’s hand wraps around your arm, his fingers squeezing tight and the worry evident in his tone, “what’s going on, are you alright?”

You nod against the brick, the epitome of desperate but still refusing to give up hope. Maybe if you just stick to the bland answers they will walk away. Of course, the odds of that actually panning out are slim to none. You can feel them tense, the air thickening around you as Kol tugs on your arm. None. The chances are none. How absolutely awesome.

A hand wraps around your face, one that is in no way attached to either Klaus or Kol. Game over.

Elijah draws your eyes to his own and your heart hurts when you see his brows furrowed, “baby, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me.”

You finally turn to face them, sagging against the wall behind you. Shaking your head from his grasp you pull your lip between your teeth, trying your best to keep it still. You didn’t expect to be upset by this but you can’t help it. The vision you had in your head was so much better than this. You don’t say anything you just hold up the plant and huff, the defeat coursing through you.

Elijah takes the mistletoe from your hand, smiling lightly, “is this for us?”

Your face ignites immediately, fire creeping up your neck and consuming your skin, inch by damned inch. They’re all staring at you, their eyes locked on you like you’re about to share some life changing secret. Please stop! You want to cry, your chest tightening harshly and your back pressed against the cold stone. God, now, not only do you feel like a failure, you’re also heavily embarrassed. Why did you think this was a good idea again? If only the floor would just open up and swallow you whole right now. 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes again, wholly overwhelmed and in need of a nap all of a sudden, “it was but not anymore. I can’t reach. I can’t reach anything in this damn place! It doesn’t even matter. It’s done now.”

“Darling, come on now,” Kol grabs your arm again and you tense, keeping your eyes shut, “we can help. You can sit on my shoulders.”

He’s trying to lighten the mood, you know he is, but it only makes you feel worse. You don’t want their help, you wanted to surprise them and now you can’t. That warrants a little bit of frustration. There’s this blackness in your chest, one that is trying its best to consume you, one that clearly didn’t hear that it's Christmastime, and you need some air. Just ten minutes. You need out though. Now.

You push off the wall and squeeze yourself past them, “thank you, Kol, but I need a minute. I think I’m going to go for a walk, alright?”

They all scrunch their brows in concern, Klaus stepping forward and stretching an arm out to catch you, “love, it’s freezing out there. I would really rather you stay here.”

He steps closer to you, running his fingers over your cheek. You know he just wants you to be safe but if you stay here any longer you’re going to pass out. The walls, as tall as they are, are closing in on you. It’s like they’re taunting you on purpose. We’ll only shorten for you when you need us to be tall.

“I’m sorry,” is all you say, turning and running before any of them can think to chase after you. 

You hear them call after you but you don’t stop, tearing your coat from it’s hook and shrugging it on as you step onto Bourbon Street. The December air rolls over you in waves, the smells of peppermint liquor and hot chocolate cresting with it. It forces you to keep walking, straight into the crowd and out of the view of three searching eyes. You’re not entirely sure where you’re going but you don’t care. You’ll figure it out later. Right now you just need to breathe.

                     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

It’s only a few hours later when you walk back through the compound’s gates, your jacket now damp from the snow and your cheeks significantly icier. Your fingers are stiff and your socks are soaked, your boots in as much need of a warm place to dry as you are. Despite the chill in your bones, though, you feel significantly better. While on your little walk you had run into Josh. Okay, so you didn’t so much ‘run into him’ as you did ‘frantically call him to calm you down’. Josh really is good at going with the flow sometimes.

He bought you a hot chocolate, the kind the ninth ward coven makes with the double shot of bourbon, and just let you talk. Sometimes that’s all you need: a drink with your best friend. The guys are great but they’re a tad overwhelming and that’s exactly what Josh said. Sometimes they make me feel like I can’t breathe and, girl, I’m dead. You had laughed when he said that. It’s true, after all. But then he followed it with something that rings through your ears as you hang your coat back in its place.

But they love you, you know? A thousand years of loving and hating each other and you’re in the middle of it. They figured it out for you. What’s one high ceiling at the end of it all?

You hear a whoosh of air, one scented in three distinct ways, and you finally smile. Your chest doesn’t feel at all tight anymore when you look at them. Kol reaches for you first, tugging you into his cinnamon chest and sighing against your hair. You wrap your arms around him tight, your hands smoothing over his back. You missed him, it’s as simple as that.

“I was so worried,” he mumbles against you, his lips finding your forehead, “I almost went to find you about six times.”

You smile into his chest, rubbing your face against him, “thank you for letting me have some time.”

He laughs quietly as you’re pulled from him and into another pair of arms, these ones hinted with berries and oil paints. Klaus clings to you, his head falling against your neck as soon as you're in his grasp. He squeezes you tight, just as Kol had, rubbing his nose against your still cold skin. Your arms fall around him, your nails digging into his shoulders from how hard you grab him. You missed him too.

Klaus’s lips are glued to your neck, his words thawing the cold in your bones, “letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve done in a long time, love.”

You snuggle closer to him, “I know, I’m sorry honey.”

He pulls his face from your neck, shaking his head slightly and kissing your forehead, “don’t be. Sometimes I forget there are more of us than you. I’d need a walk with Rosza too.”

You raise your brow and give him a soft grin. You don’t ask how he knows where you’ve been, you just kiss his cheek before turning to the third and final Mikaelson. Elijah doesn’t grab you immediately like his brothers had, he just looks at you, his head tilted and his lips pressed together. His hands tense at his sides and your heart drops. Oh Eli, always the stoic Viking. You capture his eyes again and that’s all it takes to rush into his arms.

As soon as you're in his reach he reacts, wrapping his arms around your hips and hauling you against him. You wrap your legs around him, not caring about your pants which are soaked from the snow. You don’t waste your time with pleasantries, don’t pass him any apologies, you just smash your lips against his and dig your fingers into his hair. He kisses you back like he hasn’t kissed you in years. You don’t blame him, you feel the exact same way.

“I missed you,” he kisses you again, his lips tasting like candy canes, “fuck, I missed you.”

You slide your hands to his face, your palms curling around his jaw, “I missed you too, Eli. So much.”

He closes his eyes, leaning his face in the palm of your hand. His stubble tickles your fingers. With that one little action everything clicks back into place. All the frustration and embarrassment from before melts away. Josh was right, you think to yourself, what is one high ceiling in the grand scheme of things. You run a hand through his hair one last time before forcing yourself back onto your feet.

“Darling,” a pair of hands land on your shoulders, “we have a surprise for you.” 

You look over your shoulder to meet Kol’s mischievous grin. Oh boy. He takes your hand, dragging you to the alcove of the staircase, the same place you had spent forty-five minutes in front this morning trying desperately to hang the stupid plant. 

Klaus wraps his arms around your stomach from behind, pulling you against his chest again and leaning down to murmur in your ear, “look up, love.”

You follow his instructions, your eyes landing on some familiar red ribbons and immediately flooding with tears. You throw a hand over your mouth, leaning back into Klaus to keep yourself from falling over. They really hung the mistletoe for you. You meet all of their eyes in a rush, completely speechless but fully warm. Glancing back up you notice the duct tape. You laugh, a few small sobs breaking through with it. They did this for you. 

You spin in Klaus’ arms, pulling his lips down to yours, “thank you.” You giggle against his mouth, “did Kol hang that? That mistletoe was not hung with care.”

“Hey,” Kol pulls you from Klaus, laughing right along with you, “I tried okay!”

[aibari]

safe returns

a @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

notes: this fic is set after the s15 finale. there’s a bit of canon-typical grief at  the start, but this is a fix-it fic :)

read on ao3

Afterwards, the world knits itself back together slowly, like broken bones healing. People come back to their loved ones, but not all at once, filing in gradually. Dean guesses they've had a long way to go. Wherever the hell they went, when Chuck had punted them out of existence.

So it's a slow and gradual thing, and it sucks. He catches himself out constantly, thinking that maybe -

And then Sam will give him a concerned look, so understanding and careful it makes him feel like he's been skinned alive.

And he knows by now what that feels like.

Anyway, the point is that while people are still coming back, he can't quite let go of the thought that Cas might, too. Even if he's in the Empty. Even if it's dumb as hell to think that it could ever -

So. The thought sits in his chest like a tumor metastasizing, like a rusty fishhook, like a birdcage. Hope is a thing with feathers, or however the fuck that saying goes.

He can't think about it for too long. If he does, he starts needing a drink, starts to feel his jaw lock up. Can't touch it, or he'll slice his fingers open.

So instead of thinking about it, he joins a pie eating competition. Goes on a series of hunts with Sam that all resolve easy. Drinks beer and sleeps in motels and eats greasy diner food, and it's familiar in a way that's both familiar and deeply fucking depressing if he lets himself think about it. He's forty-one, he's helped defeat God, and he's still doing this shit? Does he even know how to be anything else? Does he have it in him?

Six months after the end of Chuck, the stream of people showing back up slows to a trickle and then dries up. Dean takes his fragile hope and buries it as deep as it will go.

So it goes.

-

He dreams about Cas, which is business as usual. Dreams with Cas used to mean something, and maybe that something was covert fraternization and angel politics, most of the time, but it was Cas. Now it's just trauma. Dean sits on their bench, and Cas sits next to him, and Cas says:

Because you cared, I cared.

And Dean says:

Don’t do this, Cas.

And then he starts to choke, words and letters pushing up against the back of his throat like yesterday's dinner.

Cas is still talking, words fading in and out like a radio with bad reception, and his hand rests heavy on Dean's arm, and he says:

"Dean."

And then Dean wakes up, gasping, staring up at the water-stained motel room ceiling.

The handprint on his shoulder burns.

He stumbles into the bathroom to splash water on his face and then stands there, hands clutching the edges of the sink, staring blankly at his own reflection.

There's a pull in his chest, tethered somewhere under his ribs.

He takes a deep breath, and then another.

Then he wakes up Sam, who groans and then squints at him in the half-dark of the room. The light of the neon sign outside paints a violet streak across his cheek.

“Dean, what -?” Sam says. “What’s going on, what time is it?”

“Don’t worry your sweet little head about it, Sammy,” Dean says. “Just got a little something to take care of, so I’m heading out.”

Sam frowns at him. “What do you mean, out?”

“What are you, some kind of detective?”

“Dean,” Sam says, with the kind of heavy, long-suffering bitchiness that means he’s gonna get passive aggressive about it.

Dean doesn’t have that kind of time. “I’m going to Minnesota and I’m gonna have to go there alone.”

Sam opens his mouth to say something.

“Don’t say anything, Sam,” Dean grits out.

“I wasn’t gonna,” Sam says, like a liar. 

Dean rolls his eyes at him and starts packing. It takes about a minute; it’s not like any of them ever really unpack.

There’s a joke in there, somewhere, Dean thinks, jaw clenching despite himself.

“Dean,” Sam says from behind him. Dean freezes in the middle of stuffing a t-shirt into the bag, unable to turn around and look at him.

“What,” he asks, stiff like set concrete.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Sam says, like he has his own ideas about where Dean is going. “Promise me, alright?”

“Sure,” Dean says. It’s a like, but he’s pretty sure they both know it.

It’s not like he even knows where he’s going, exactly.

He doesn’t even know what he’s going there for. He just knows that he has to.

He finishes packing and they say their goodbyes. Sam bitches about it when he takes the impala, but Eileen will be coming up later in the day to discuss some kind of hunt developments. Sam will be fine.

Whether or not Dean will be fine might be a different question.

He’ll figure it out.

-

He takes the I-35 up through Illinois and Iowa, barely stopping to take a piss. The burn of the handprint has settled into something gentler, but it still throbs in a telltale heart rhythm. He thinks about Cas, at the end, standing tall and telling Dean that he loved him.

It makes his jaw go tight.

He turns up the music. It’s Creedence, and he sings along as hard as he can stand, white-knuckling the wheel.

“That’s real healthy,” he murmurs to himself in the space between songs, but it does help to have something in the car that isn’t his own thoughts, his own fuck-ups and messes.

The closer he gets to Minnesota, the stronger the pull gets.

He’s playing with fire, not doing the research and going in solo like this. Whatever’s pulling at him could be freaking anything.

But it won’t be.

He knows that for sure, even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is.

He just has a feeling.

-

After he crosses state lines the final time, rolling on into Minnesota, he stops at a diner for dinner. He gets a burger and fries, and by this point he is so full of whatever thing is pulling him forward it’s hard to stop moving. His ribcage feels like it’s full of bees.

He keeps thinking about Cas.

“This is you, isn’t it,” he murmurs. “Whatever’s happening here. It’s about you.”

No-one answers him, but he’s used to that by now.

He can fill a silence like nobody’s business, so he launches into a rambling review of the music on the regional radio station, (bland enough to give Wonderbread a run for its money,) the scenery (cold and snowy), and the present company (non-existent; please, Cas, come back to me).

The waitress keeps looking at him funny. When he goes to leave, she won’t let him pay. For a second, he thinks she might be interested, but then she gives him a soft, sad look and tells him about how her partner had taken months longer than her to come back, and that she understands what he’s going through, that he shouldn’t give up hope, and then he has to go.

-

He sits in the parking lot for a while, hands on the steering wheel, wishing he’d paid more attention to the mindfulness kick Sam’s been on for the past month.

He can’t stop thinking about the look on Cas’ face, right before -

Fuck.

If he were in any other car, he’d be punching the dashboard.

He turns up the music again instead, and wipes his face, and gets back to driving.

So it goes.

-

He stops at a motel by the interstate and stumbles out the morning after to a bright winter’s day. The sky is blue enough that he has to squint against it; the snow crunches under his boots. With every breath, the cold air knifes down his throat.

He follows the pull of his invisible line.

-

The forest is quiet. The snow muffles all sound but the crunch of his boots, which reverberate like gunshots. Dean makes a quick mental inventory of Minnesota monsters. He’s unprepared for most of them; if any of them show up, or if this is a trap, he’ll be up shit creek. He’d probably deserve it, too, coming here like this.

He walks for hours, pulled forward, chest sweetly aching and handprint throbbing to the beat of his own heart.

By the time he reaches the field, he’s almost lost track of time.

It’s just a large, empty space. If it hadn’t been covered in snow in the middle of winter, it’d make a sweet concert space.

There’s no-one else here, but -

(something in his chest wrenches)

-then there is.

A man in a trenchcoat stumbles into the clearing, and Dean knows him. He knows him, with a bright and certain rush of heat that leaves him breathless.

“Cas!” he yells, and hears the answering, “Dean!” and then he’s running and laughing and tearing up at the same time. He’s a mess, but he can’t help it, couldn’t stop it if he tried. They meet in the middle and it’s like a scene from Love freaking Actually, hugging each other tightly and spinning each other around. Cas smells like petrichor and ozone and day-old sweat. The stitching on his coat is rough and reassuring under Dean’s fingers. He never wants to let him go.

“Thank you,” Cas says, serious as a freshly dug grave, “for meeting me.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, buddy,” Dean says. Then he leans back a little to look Cas properly in the eye. “Cas,” he says. “Earlier. I said the wrong thing.”

Cas gives him an expectant look. His hands are fisting into Dean’s coat. “What did you want to say, Dean?”

The way he says his name makes Dean shudder. He swallows thickly. “I. Back when you - I said don’t do this, but what I should have said was - me too, Cas.”

Cas tilts his head slightly to the side, like he’s confused by something. Dean had almost forgotten what shade of blue they were.

“What?” Dean asks, as softly as he can, which isn’t much. He’s not good at this. Not with Cas. Not yet, but hopefully - if he dares to hope - hopefully soon.

“You don’t have to humor me, Dean,” Cas says, stiffer than a freaking fridge magnet in a freezer. “I know I’m not what you -”

And Dean can’t stand hearing him finish that sentence, can’t stand not having them be on the same page.

“Alright, fuck this,” he says, and pulls Cas down into a kiss.

[camdentown-library]

Dancing with the beast || Ivarr Ragnarsson x fem!reader

( GIF belong to ithlinnesprophecy )

𝕺𝖍, 𝖆 𝖇𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖋𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋𝖋 𝖆 𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖋, 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖙 𝖇𝖊?

Summary: After helping Ubba and Ivarr with the Ledecestrescire issue, you and your travel friends Eivor and Sigurd take a break at a banquet to celebrate the victory organized by the Ragnarsson brothers.

Requested? No

Genre: SFW

Words: 2278

In the air was the melody of lively music, laughter, and the pungent scent of mead. Probably in your eyes as a foreigner all this could be the perfect portrait of the legends that Eivor told you about the Valhalla...well maybe the gods were missing in all their glory, but people seemed to be enjoying themselves.

After all, it had been a tough battle and despite the rather large losses, everyone deserved a slice of tranquility.

To be honest you didn't have many opportunities to attend banquets, your mentor was always busy on some missions, and obviously you and Hytham had to follow him as good and obedient students, yet you could perceive, like a dim light in the distance on the horizon , the oriental music of Constantinople superimposed on the Danish one; If you had closed your eyes you could still see people throwing flower petals into the square, women and men dancing, the scent of spices and incense.

For a Hidden-One no land is their homeland, but you would have lied if you had admitted that Constantinople, your home, your people, your colorful culture did not miss you.

"Do you have fun, little one?" Eivor asked with a horn overflowing with mead, followed by a cheerful Sigurd.

"Enough, in short, I've almost never been to parties, but I know some dances...well, those of my tradition" you explained politely, sipping a bit of mead when Eivor gently approached his horn, in a tacit offer to share .

"Ah! I remember well, in Miklagard they often entertained very colorful parties in the square, and once I saw (y/n) dancing, a real beauty for the eyes to learn new traditions, brother" explained Sigurd, encouraging you in his way to melt more and join the dances.

"First I'll try to put something in my stomach, I'm tired of eating only what the forest offers, but don't worry my friends, you will see me dance one day" you answered bringing your hands in a friendly way on the shoulders of the two brothers, smiling friendly and then having dismissed them you approached the banquet to taste some dishes, it was all quite good...but it lacked seasoning and spices, how did the Vikings eat so bland?

Maybe in the end he felt like you? Like two fishes out of water?

Your eyes darted from one side of the room to the other, as if you wanted to immortalize every moment, or maybe it was your usual Hidden-one way of finding clues even when there was absolutely nothing to investigate...

Your eyes finally landed on an empty table in the room, there was only one man sitting on the bench, with his back resting on the table. No one was by his side, no one was talking to him, it seemed a sad contrast to the rest of the hall who was dancing and partying.

You decided to advance towards the area where everyone was dancing, while as you arrived at your goal you could feel a slight resistance from poor Ivarr. Was he afraid of too much attention on himself? Or cringed?

As you slowly approached your target, you could tell from his unusual hairstyle that it was Ivarr Ragnarsson. You haven't had many opportunities to talk. Perhaps because he was too rude and threatening at times, perhaps unfounded you feared slightly his moody and unpredictable personality.

"Hello" you said as you stood in front of him, he was sitting very relaxed and not very decorous, with his legs spread and both elbows placed on the table. Ivarr looked up at you, studying you from top to bottom, his eyebrows raised slightly.

"I've already seen you little girl...are you Wolfsmal's friend...Jamila?" he said trying to guess your name, probably unknown for his language. You shook your head smiling.

"Y/n" you corrected it.

"Y/n..." Ivarr repeated your name slowly nodding to himself "What a strange name, for Thor 'sake, your father was drunk when he gave you the name? I'll call you...Eagle-cub, will easier to remember” he replied with his usual elephantine delicacy in a crystal shop.

"If you say so...then you won't mind if I call you: rush? Ivarr is too weird even for me" you said with an amused smirk, while he gave you an amazed look raising both eyebrows.

"You know, I can read on your face that you are a foreigner, Eagle-cub" he commented, raising his chin a little towards you.

"Because your name is strange to my ears?" you asked raising an eyebrow.

"No" he replied sharply, shaking his head "You wander around lost just like an Eagle-cub, and what do you do? Come and annoying Ivarr Ragnarsson. Either you're too stupid, or you're probably a reckless chick" on his lips was painted a devious smile, he was probably testing you, he wanted to discourage you, but you wouldn't let go so easily.

"My intent is to receive your friendship. With Eivor you had become a friend" you explained with a vague but sincere way.

"Yes, but I don't like you" Ivarr replied with a kind face and forked tongue.

"Because am I a woman?"

"Because you are a foreigner"

"No man likes what remains difficult to understand, you are probably the one too stupid between the two" you replied with a troublemaker smile, enjoying the slightly displaced eyes of the man who, however, seemed not to give up.

Ivarr then tilted his head to one side, observing you even inside your bones, those eyes of his seemed to study every possible way in which he could pierce you with a weapon, yet you seemed not to be afraid. Maybe Ivarr was right, you were a reckless little girl.

"Huh..." he replied with fake surprise, and then smiled in a very mischievous way "You like to talk huh, Eagle-cub? You should make friends with Ubba, oooh he really likes to talk, an effective cure for those who have too much ear wax" he replied, selflessly taking a sip of alcohol.

"Yet I am here...and you are not Ubba" you finally answered crossing your arms to your chest observing him "Why don't you participate in the dances?" you asked to sweeten that speech that had turned sour like mead. Ivarr shrugged, glancing at the people dancing and chattering.

"If that wasn't obvious enough, I don't like to dance" he said raising his arms, then resting them heavily on the table, you then raised a curious eyebrow.

"Or...you don't like it, because you're not capable" you asked ironically letting yourself escape a little laugh, while Ivarr let out a sulky snort.

When Ivarr looked back at you he noticed that you had brought a hand towards him with a small amused smile.

"Usually it is a man who asks the woman to dance, but not being in my land, so I have all the freedom to ask you if you would like to dance with me" the boy looked at you not completely convinced and you looking up to the sky you said "Come on, are you afraid Ragnarsson?" and at that point he let himself take the callused hand and let himself be dragged after emitting a slight annoyed growl.

"Ok I will be magnanimous with you, give me your hands" you said to the young Viking, who offered you his wide and calloused hands, and you gently grasping them placed one on your side and the other joined it with your "Well now come closer” He took just a step and you giggled, rolling your eyes. "Closer, Ragnarsson. You said so, I'm an Eagle-cub, so I'm harmless and I don't bite” you replied as he came closer to you.

Your chests came almost touching, now that you thought about it, Ivarr was slightly taller than you, but he had a very strong and massive musculature, covered in tattoos with strange runes, part of you wondered what on earth those marks could mean.

"Now?" he asked slightly annoyed as he looked around.

"Now you just have to relax and watch me, listen to the music and let yourself be lulled. You will soon forget the people who are watching you" Ivarr in response sighed in exasperation and then brought his eyes to yours, as you had indicated, was a little stiff. beginning, but your sunshine and your fluid movements masked his slightly wrong movements.

"Why?" he asked at one point as you made a slight twist accompanied by his hand.

"Mh?"

"Why me?" you looked at him puzzled "Why did you choose to invite me to dance? Sigurd and Eivor seemed more inclined to accept your invitation" he explained, frowning to mask an almost invisible embarrassment.

"Oh, were you eavesdropping?" you asked your dance partner who replied even more sulky.

"Yes and then?" you rested your forehead on his armored chest and giggled under his breath, god, he was really hopeless.

"Don't you know it's rude to eavesdrop, Ragnarsson?" you asked ironically, raising your head and meeting again his face contracted in a grimace.

"Do I really look like the guy who gives a shit about manners?" he asked then, his hand lightly squeezed your side.

"No" you smiled amused "That's why I like you" Ivarr almost stepped on your foot shocked.

"...Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Why should I?"

"Why should you ever want the company of someone like me, I'm a damn warrior who likes the smell of blood, not..." but all of a sudden he stopped and shaking his head went back to dance, you a little confused you looked for him look of his dull eyes but you could not.

"What?" you asked, bringing your hand from his shoulder to his slightly rough face due to his short beard, he almost seemed to reject the contact at first glance.

"I don't deserve the affection" he murmured.

"Why?" you asked again, he rolled his eyes.

"Fuck, did you see me? Or are you blind? I can't even grow a couple of balls for Ceolbert, I can't build anything, I'm good at killing people, that's what fuck I am. And you come here and tell me that you want to be my friend, that you like me, and you touch me as if this were not repulsive” he said, squeezing your side too tightly, starting to hurt.

"Ivarr..." you whispered placing your gaze on his hand, and when he sensed he let go, returning soft. There was a dead silence between you two as the music continued to lead you into that cheerful rhythm. Ivarr glanced fleetingly between the participants and no one seemed to care so much anymore.

"When people touch you like a monster, you probably start believing. Often those who consider themselves a monster think they don't deserve the affection of others, because they probably fear that their hands will be dirty with their blood" you were serious "But I'm not the others, luckily for me I can kill as much as you and I know how to defend myself. But I know I don't need it...You could say to me to go to hell when I got close to you, but you didn't. I know you won't hurt me" you finally concluded, as the Viking listened attentively to you reflecting on your words.

"Well...I was going to tear off your hip with that hand" he commented a little in trouble and you smiled slightly.

"And you were about to step on my foot. I have to admit that you really are a sucker at dancing" you commented amused. He made a slight smirk.

"You insisted on making me dance with you, foreigner, then perish" he said, squeezing your side even more, but this time with a joke, while you in return pinched his neck.

The music you were dancing to ended, leaving you perhaps a little disappointed, perhaps the time was up when Ivarr had started to melt a little. But you weren't completely unhappy, it was always better to have taken small steps than to have not moved at all from your starting point.

Ivarr also seemed to have enjoyed this short dance, in short, he was not a great dancer, but at least he felt less out of place than before. Sure, he wouldn't admit it even under torture, but okay.

"This dance has exhausted me, I'm going to prepare a fire to warm up and a tent to stay in tonight" you said, moving away from the Viking who, feeling at first glance the lack of contact between your bodies, was a little disappointed.

"If by any chance you reached me to help me at least to light the fire, then I will take it as a sign of friendship" you said placing a hand on your chest with a playful way to distance him even further from you, while turning around you walked out of the banquet hall, leaving an uncertain Ivarr in the middle of the ballroom.

A calloused and broad hand collided with the back of the latter, who coughed slightly in shock and when he turned he found his brother Ubba who was watching him slyly.

"The fuck you want?" Ivarr then asked grumpily.

"And so Ivar the boneless, got carried away by a woman to dance?" Ubba asked at that point and in response the younger brother slipped out of his grip growling like a nervous cat.

"You're so drunk that now you're also hallucinating, brother. I'm going to piss" and with those words that were anything but pretty, the Viking also came out of the banquet hall, but there were different actions he intended to do as soon as he crossed the exit.

[daydream-hobii]

Flowers & Weeds | Prequel to Roses & Thorns | Chapter 3

Genre: Prequel to Roses & Thorns; Poly!AU; Hybrid!AU; Fluff & Angst

Pairing: BTS x Female!Reader; Alpaca!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Fox!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Bear!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Bunny!Jungkook

Summary: Before Y/n rehabilitated hybrids, she was just an average rich daughter of a well-known hybrid breeder. She was also someone who didn’t want hybrids in her life, she didn’t like how they had to have an owner when really, they were more human than animals. When the government starts threatening her, she decides to get one to make them start. That’s what changes everything.

Warning: Mentions of Mental & Physical Abuse, Depression, Anxiety, and Suicidal Thoughts; High Suggestions of Smut; Future Mentions of Attempted Suicides; Read with Caution~ <3 This Chapter in Particular has Strong Mentions of Abuse, Please Read with Caution.

Word Count: 1,370

Connected Series: Roses & Thorns

// Previous // Next //

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 3! I hope you like it!! ^_^

        I’ve had Taehyung for almost a year. As each month passed, he became more and more open with me. We both were learning the extent of how I could help hybrids, and I had come to find a private organization in the rehabilitated states that look for people to sneak them over. When I told Taehyung, if he wanted, he could go, he was very against the idea. Something about being my partner, through and through.

       Now, with time going by, we have a total of nine hybrids in our home. Some from hybrid fights, others from auctions that I didn’t know existed, some from shelters. I slowly was learning the ropes, and I was growing more angry with how awful hybrid’s lives were here… so I knew I needed to do this.

       It was the afternoon, close to evening, and there was another auction I was going to tonight, much to Taehyung’s dismay. I was dressed in a long, elegant dress and a masquerade mask. Each time, I’d dress in something different. These auctions were all anonymous, but I didn’t want any sort of exposure to come to me.

       “Y/n, I just feel we have too many,” Taehyung said, sitting on my bed criss cross. His tail twitched nervously behind him.

       “Tae, we said ten was our limit at a time,” I replied. “Plus, there could be someone who really needs us.”

       “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Taehyung whispered, looking at his lap. I sighed, walking over and kissing the top of his head gently, causing him to look up at me.

       “Listen, if I think it’s too risky, I’ll come home,” I replied. “This group leaves us in a couple weeks. We’ll be okay.”

       “Alright…” He mumbled, sighing. “I’ll have my phone on me. I’ll wait for you to come home.”

       “You know how late these things run,” I replied, grabbing my purse. “If you fall asleep, that’s okay.”

       “Be safe, Y/n,” He whispered, standing and walking over, following me down the stairs and outside. We passed a couple more hybrids wandering, looking nervous of me leaving.

       “I promise, I will,” I replied, pecking his cheek and getting into my car, driving away.

       The auction was incredibly bland. Like everything, hybrids would come up, get auctioned off, and their new owners would either leave or stay for more. My chest hurt at all the faces, ones that I so desperately wanted to rescue, but… I couldn’t save them all.

       I thought of all the hybrids I currently had. I have Tae, of course, but I also had an Elephant, Salamander, Lion, German Shepherd, Tabby Cat, Persian Cat, Flamingo, and even a Horse hybrid. They were vastly different, and I had to change up quite a bit for them all. I have plenty of bedrooms, but I changed one to be a sun room for any reptiles, an aquarium-like room for any underwater hybrids I may come across. It was all so much.

       Every hybrid was so different. The Elephant and Salamander were pretty open and friendly, but the cats were secluded. Panicked easily. The Horse was mute, he never spoke, but Taehyung told me that the horse wrote him a bit of his past…. It was the worst I’ve heard…. The German Shepherd could be quite hostile, but as time went on, he calmed immensely. The Lion was kind of cocky, like he thought so highly of himself, but I don’t believe he means any harm. It’s like a defense mechanism. The Flamingo loved the pool, and I’d find her sleeping in the chairs sometimes, so I put out a bench with blankets and pillows in case she wanted to stay out there.

       My attention was taken by a new hybrid, teeth gritted and in some sort of handcuffs. It was wooden, running across his shoulders, holding his two hands and neck. Everyone gasped, but my eyes sparked seeing him. He was a wolf hybrid, one named Namjoon. They’d electrocute him every now and then, making him holler, and making me wince.

       The bidding began, and I was sure to be the first. People didn’t want him, he was aggressive looking, but one man seemed unbreakable with his bidding. I clenched my teeth, going higher with my bid. 

       “500,000,” The man shouted. I stood up, walking towards the stage.

       “One million,” I said, making everyone gasp. The wolf stared at me, a mixture of a glare and shock in his eyes.

       “Sold!” The auctioneer stated, smirking. “You’ve got a handful, little lady. Just pay at the front, and they’ll bring him out.”

       I nodded, twisting and walking to the front where I gave a million dollars. I winced at the transaction, but knew that this hybrid was worth it. He deserved happiness, I felt it. I stood in the lobby, waiting patiently for them to bring Namjoon out. When they did, he was handcuffed, making me squint my eyes. He had on a sort of muzzle as well, making me glare at the gentlemen. I’d never seen anything like this….

       “Listen, lady,” The guard said. “He’s hostile. He’ll bite and scratch. I highly suggest you keep these on him until your home, and even then, lock him away until you want to play with him.” The other man snickered, making me almost lose my composure. 

       “Thanks,” I said, snatching the key and chain, walking out with the new hybrid, who remained silent. We got to my car, where I opened my passenger door. He blinked, giving me the side eye before sitting in it. I shut it, getting in and driving away. 

       Once we were home, I turned off the ignition. The light in the living room was on, making me think Taehyung stayed up. I turned to the new hybrid, but he didn’t look at me. He was silent the entire way.

       “Listen,” I started, making him tense up. “I have other hybrids here. If I take these off you, you have to promise you won’t harm me or the others, got it?” I was firm - sometimes, I had to be for the safety of the others. He looked at me, his pupils dilated. He growled low, making me glare at him. He paused, thinking to himself before nodding.

       I leaned over, cautiously taking off his cuffs, then his muzzle. He seemed to be contemplating something, which made me slightly nervous. Before he could do anything, I got out of the car, coming around and opening his.

       “Let me take you to your room. It’s late, and I’m sure you want to sleep,” I said, making him stare at me with hard eyes, the glint of surprise in them.

       Namjoon got out of the car, following me to the front door and walking in. He looked around, smelling the air. His tail was matted, but still stiff. I hoped he smelt the calmness of my home that they all smelled. I spotted Taehyung on the couch, asleep. I giggled, walking over and kneeling in front of him. I pushed the hair out of his eyes, making him huff.

       “Tae, sweetie, time for bed,” I whispered. His eyes fluttered open, a small smile playing at his lips as he stood up, nodding.

       “I’m glad you’re safe,” He replied, kissing my cheek before looking at Namjoon. He stiffened slightly, staring at the wolf who stared back.

       “Tae, this is Namjoon,” I said, looking between them.

       “Hi,” Taehyung said, eyeing the hybrid who began to glare. “I’m going to bed, Y/n. See you in the morning.” He pecked my head before passing the new member, glaring softly before going upstairs.

       “Let me show you your room,” I told Namjoon, climbing the stairs. 

       I passed many rooms, some which were open, revealing the sleeping hybrids. I smiled as I passed, seeing how peaceful they all were. Namjoon seemed to be examining them as well. I stopped at the one next to Taehyung’s, opening the door to reveal a medium sized room, with all important furniture.

       “This is your room. You may do whatever you like with it,” I said, turning to him. “My room is just up the stairs there, but if you need anything and can’t find me, talk to Taehyung. His room is next to yours.” I pointed to each, but the hybrid kept his eyes on me. “My office is just downstairs. Please, when you wake up, come to my office and we’ll talk.”

       We stood there awkwardly for a few moments, his eyes staring down at me. I stood my ground, wondering if he was testing for weakness. He eventually nodded, going into his room with his items and sitting on the bed. I nodded back, grabbing his door and shutting it, sighing in relief.

[sugar-petals]

Sorry to interrupt you but can you explain why do you think taeyong's kibbe type is dramatic?

taeyong’s kibbe analysis: a dramatic type profile

first impression is everything with kibbe, so let’s take a look. what instantly strikes you is how you can draw this guy with a ruler: everything stark, everything sharp.

this looks just way too mature for any other kibbe category already. so many pointy, irregular, long, thin angles. to me, except the extreme height, he has all dramatic characteristics and no tinge of yin in him. not a single curved line to be seen. look at that arm and how taut his cheek profile is. the nose can cut like a razor.

to confirm that. taeyong also looks best in D stylings rather than say gamine. it feels too chaotic or childlike on him, the outfit overshadows the person, it looks like a different world:

or classic — too understated on him, too symmetrical, bland, makes him disappear, doesn’t underline his features well:

whereas the same outfit idea looks much sexier and sassier on an actual (flamboyant) gamine who carries it effortlessly:

and an actual (soft) classic, which is a type that shines in the most conservative of clothes:

for taeyong, it needs a head to toe color kind of futuristic concept. suddenly his face is where you look at and the bigger picture works out. 

the more geometric and bold with black and white contrasts, the better. keeping it minimal so we see him the most. he really pops out in kick it because it’s a dramatic styling. 

when you wear your kibbe category, the outfit no longer overpowers or is more important than you. you see taeyong, not the fashion choice. you can get a good idea of him and the shapes and size bring out all the sex appeal. i find him the most impressive here:

any element that is contrary to his type has the opposite effect. fluffy hair, small accessories, wild color layering, bulky lines, no geometric shapes, youthful wardrobe: suddenly he’s completely gone, almost unrecognizable and even appears a lot older.

put some grandpa glasses, wild and terribly dyed hair, plus a random jacket on a gamine, it plays into their look entirely. what’s a bad outfit on one type is attractive on another, it’s funny.

so, you can see why pure dramatic brings out his very best. that’s a type that can handle a lot of dressing up. it’s also the reason why he can rock the subcategory. taeyong in soft dramatic, he looks dazzling with all the drapes and ornaments and jewelry overload. oh man, look at him.

a little different and the hair doesn’t fit completely but also very interesting and memorable on him, this soft dramatic jacket is the bomb:

natural stylings, sort of decent, can be too large though, especially sportswear jackets. but you can tell there’s some major yang going on by how he can wear a completely monochrome look and not make it boring. it also feels like he has the height to pull it off even if taeyong is not the tallest when you compare him with others. but in and of itself, the vertical line is there.

regardless, it has to be crisp and fitted. dramatic makeup is the best on taeyong. sharp dark brows and smoky eyes, very harsh lighting, shadows all around him. add metallic jewelry... perfect.

the hair is best when it’s all sleek and pulled back. put him in a funky gamine multicolor crop mane and it looks like a wig he got from 2013 sehun 😂

seriously, these stylists. the fluffed up cotton candy colors need to go back to where they belong which is on the sweet gamines. where it looks surprisingly sexy, if not seductive. when baekhyun said girl i’m your candy, he didn’t lie.

gd (flamboyant gamine poster boy) has done all of these colors times ten and manages to look handsome and pretty edgy, even in the weirdest cuts and colors.

same for hyuna (soft gamine), looks pretty cool right here. no other type can do ice cream galaxy hair.

because: it’s in their gamine geometry and they have some yin (= soft, wishy-washy outlines). button nose, squishy cheeks, pouty lips, moon face. completely different story. you can fluff the hair up to maximum effect and it looks really good.

the same idea looks strange and frizzy on taeyong, he doesn’t look like himself anymore.

you can see how it makes his face look even sharper. compare it to yoongi, hair like that only picks up on the roundness that’s already there. with taeyong, it creates a contrast. that’s your sign.

it needs a much more severe and hypermodern outfit. with large square shapes, hard contrasts and only 2-3 dominant colors. that’s how you know taeyong is pretty much pure yang. most other types need some kind of line blend. meanwhile, taeyong shines in the absence of yin. this one has a bit of natural sprinkled in but looks on point because it’s so geometric:

as the finale — easily my favorite outfit here, lots of dramatic elements: only one color (no gradients either), stiff hair and fabric, a huge lapel, asymmetry with the flower emblem and waist ties, strong eyebrows, eye shadow, sharp shoulders, straight sleeves, V-neck. amazing. 

so, i rest my case — we have a dramatic on our hands 👆