#feedback is always welcome!

[independent-fics]

The Leverage OT3 in Every Episode

Leverage: 01x01 The Nigerian Job

[bugoutreviewgirlie]

hey all! this is an ongoing passion project of mine and it'd mean an incredible amount to me if you guys checked it out and shared it!

[bilaudad]

experimenting with more simplified or cartoon styles, and practicing not being afraid of color and not being so self-conscious showing the process

[1wh4re1]

Okay so more Ghoap x F!Reader. Just a blurb. Also, these will definitely be in whatever order inspiration strikes me first.

You're covered in sweat, tendrils of hair sticking to your face and you swear you swear you can still feel your left side despite the epidural. You've been at this for what feels like days despite it being less than 10 hours.

This wasn't how you imagined the birth of your baby. One partner whose remains had drifted over that beautiful cliffside and the other god knows where who chose to walk away from you. Still, you are grateful for the man holding your hand beside you now.

John Price never imagined he'd be in this situation. Your hand gripping his (quite painfully god your grip is strong), and him wiping away your sweat and tears. He knows he isn't the man who should be here and he knows that he shouldn't have sent Simon to chase a lead so close to your due date even though the man doesn't even know you're pregnant at all.

He watches you flush, tears leaking from your eyes through another round of pushing, and thinks he is quite possibly the biggest bastard on earth for keeping this secret for you.

You're exhausted. Worn out. Dead beat tired. The doctor between your legs encourages you. Only a few more pushes she says and you're almost there. You sob, heaving breaths as more tears stream down your face. Squeezing Price's hand you start to push again, praying that this is the end.

The relief of hearing your baby cry for the first time is overshadowed by the blood rushing through your ears and the wooziness you feel. You can't make out what the doctors are saying.

"What...what are they saying," you slur, tongue feeling heavier than lead in your mouth as you roll your head over to look at Price. "Where's my baby, why can't I see my baby?"

Price tries to reassure you but the room is erupting into chaos around him. The monitors attached to you start to wail.

"BP is dropping."

"She's hemorrhaging."

"We need an OR stat. Page them and tell them we are on the way."

"Sir, we need to move her please go to the waiting room."

The last thing you feel is Price's hand leaving yours before you slip under into a cool abyss.

@thefictionalgemini @ghostslittlegf @oniiloma @astro-ghoul99

[elizaditton]

Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 14)

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

- - - - - - - - - -

I stare at my deskmate's hand, dumbfounded. What is he expecting me to do, exactly?

"Well, come on!" Derrick says with a smile. "What are you waiting for?"

"Well, I, um..." I cock my head to the side, as if that would help me have a better understanding of the sight in front of me. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do."

"What do you mean?" My deskmate chuckles. "Haven't you ever walked onto someone's hand before?"

I slowly lift my head to peek up at my deskmate, and rub my arm as I shift my gaze back to the balcony floor. He really expects me to have done this?

Derrick frowns. "You haven't, have you?"

I shake my head. "No, I haven't. In fact... you're the only perthean who's ever held me before."

Derrick slowly retracts his hand from the balcony, his brows shifting upward. He blinks.

"What?" I ask.

"I... I don't know, it's just..." my deskmate says, looking down as he twiddles his thumbs. "I'm honored that you'd let me be the first perthean to hold you."

"It's not like I really had a choice, being forced to come to this school and all," I sigh. "You just happened to be the first that I couldn't avoid."

"You were forced to come to this school?" Derrick asks, his eyes widening.

"Yeah," I say with a shrug as Dad's lies about the move come to mind. "It's a long story."

"Well, whether you were forced to interact with me or not," Derrick says, tucking his arms by his sides and clenching his fists excitedly, "I'll do my best to live up to the honor of being the first perthean to hold you!"

I let out a nervous laugh. I didn't realize he'd be so excited to find this out.

"But anyway, once again returning to the matter at hand—my hand, that is," Derrick says.

My heart rate picks up again as Derrick moves his hand back towards the balcony. I don't stumble backwards this time, but I'm surprised that my insides are still churning at the sight of his nearing hand—especially since I was expecting it to approach.

The enormous leathery surface settles down before me, with each of its attached digits curling inward ever so slightly. I approach my deskmate's hand cautiously, as if it were a venus flytrap ready to snatch me up at a moment's notice.

"Now, you said you weren't sure what you were supposed to do?" Derrick asks.

I raise my foot and dangle it over my deskmate's hand, only to nearly lose my balance and stumble back onto the balcony. Do I really not know how to do this?

"I haven't the slightest clue. And besides, isn't this..." I sigh, biting down on my lip and rubbing the back of my neck. "You know, a little too casual?"

"Too casual?" Derrick blinks a few times and raises an eyebrow. "Kaylin, we are friends, right?"

"Of course!" I blurt out, quickly waving my hands. "I didn't mean to say we weren't! It's just that we've only used a formal form of handling etiquette up until this point, and... well..."

"Yes? What is it?"

"I... well... I don't really know how you expect me to get onto your hand. I guess that makes me pretty stupid, huh?" I say, hanging my head.

"You're not stupid. You just need a little guidance, that's all," Derrick says with a smile. "Now, there's something I want you to know. Because we're friends, I don't care how it is you manage to get onto my hand. You can run, crawl, jump, or fall into my hand and I wouldn't mind it in the slightest."

I look up at my deskmate, astounded. I thought any perthean would be particular about how a human gets onto their hand. He really doesn't care how I approach this?

"Generally speaking, though," Derrick says, "when a perthean offers you their hand this way, you're expected to respond like this."

Derrick lifts his other hand and moves it towards me, causing my muscles to immediately tense up. What's he doing now?! Is he going to grab me?!

I quickly back away from his hands until I'm flat against the wall. My heart, beating faster and faster, sinks deep in my chest. As my knees buckle beneath me, I find myself slumping against the wall, it being the only thing left holding me up. Derrick's eyes widen, and he immediately retracts both of his hands.

"Hey," he whispers. "Kaylin, are you—"

I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the balcony floor. I hide my head behind my knees and wrap my arms around my legs. I shut my eyes tightly as they begin to tingle and glaze over, but hot tears manage to leak from them anyway.

"I can't do this, Derrick!" I sniffle. "I can't keep myself from fearing for my life whenever you reach for me! All I think about is...! Is...!"

With my head buried into my knees, my vision is completely black. My mind's eye, however, is painting pictures of the man from my nightmares. A tall, slim figure with a bit of a tan. Slightly muscular. Clean shaven with a small scar on his left cheek. He has dark brown hair and narrowed brown eyes. He wears a white t-shirt with a few dirt stains, and wrapping around his dark blue jeans at the hips is a black belt with a silver chain. Beneath him is a pair of dirty, beaten up white sneakers.

He seemed so unassuming when I first peered at him from the corner of that alleyway. I was so naive! I had no idea what he—no, what pertheans were capable of until—

"Kaylin," Derrick whispers. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. I know you're not ready to tell me what started your fear, and I want you to know that's okay with me."

I sniffle again, and with shaking hands, I wipe the tears from my eyes before reluctantly looking up at my deskmate. His blue eyes are soft with compassion, and his brows are upturned in sympathy.

"Since you were forced to come to this school, you didn't get to choose whether or not you wanted to trust me. So now, I want to ask you..." his voice trails off, and he shifts his gaze to the ground. He takes a deep breath in and out before looking back at me. "Will you make the choice now?"

My lip trembles as I sit up in my spot against the wall. "Make... the choice?" I manage, my voice cracking.

Derrick keeps his eyes fixated on me and slowly lifts his left hand towards me. His index finger is bent to the side, as if to initiate balcony etiquette. His hand passes the balcony railing, but doesn't come any closer to me. I stare at it, confused. What's he getting at?

"Kaylin, will you make the choice to trust me?"

My heart rocks against my chest and my legs begin to go numb. "How can I do that when I'm filled with so much fear?" I ask.

"Trust is an action. It's not something you feel, but rather something you choose to do in spite of your feelings." Derrick smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. "Will you trust me?"

I blink, slowly rising to my feet with trembling legs. The breeze picks up, blowing through my hair and giving me goose bumps from the chill. I hug myself tightly, partly because of the cold and partly because of the burning anxiety deep in my core. My pulse quickens, warning me to stay away from this perthean lest I get hurt—yet I find myself, for whatever reason, approaching the hand in front of me.

Derrick remains silent. I look back up at him, his smile still stretched from ear to ear. All at once, his eyes narrow, turning brown, and a scar appears over his left cheek. I slam my eyes shut, quickly sucking in a breath and blowing it out, before opening one eye to peek up at my deskmate. His blue eyes have returned to normal, and there's no scar on his cheek. I look back at his hand, cautiously tiptoeing towards it as my insides convulse and the world around me begins to spin.

Once I'm close enough, I reach a hand out towards my deskmate's index finger, only to pull it back towards myself out of uncertainty. Can I really do this? Can I really trust a perthean?

I place one hand on my deskmate's finger, and then another. I stand in place, breathless and at a loss for words. It takes all the strength I have left to look Derrick in the eyes.

"I will," I manage to say at last.

My deskmate sighs joyfully, and his eyes soften as if smiling themselves.

"Okay," he whispers.

Seeing the glee on Derrick's face gives me the courage to smile back at him. Now that I've made the choice to trust him, I can't help but wonder what comes next.

"Do you want to try walking onto my hand again?" he asks.

I recall the moment Derrick's hand approached me without warning, shivers running down my spine.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'll alert you before I reach for you from now on."

I nod, and Derrick lays his hand down palm side up on the balcony. I bite the inside of my cheek as my legs squirm beneath me, begging me to run away. I made the choice to trust Derrick, I'm not running away!

"Now, I was going to show you how humans are generally expected to react in response to an open palm. May I see your hand?" Derrick asks.

My heart skips a beat. What does he want my hand for? Still shaking where I stand, I gulp, and reluctantly offer up my right hand. I become lightheaded when Derrick takes my hand in between his fingertips. Closing my eyes, I attempt to steady my breathing. I've made my decision. I'm going to trust my deskmate.

Derrick leads me toward his open palm with a gentle tug, and places my hand on his thumb.

"There," he says, letting go of me. "Use my thumb as a support to get onto my hand."

My eyes widen as I gaze at the intricacies of his thumbprint—each curve and crevice forming a uniquely detailed pattern. I spread out my fingers. My hand doesn't even cover a fraction of the print, it's so... little. I stand there in awe, completely mesmerized by the sight in front of me as my cheeks become warmer and warmer.

"Is something wrong?" Derrick asks.

"N-no! Nothing's wrong!" I sputter, embarrassed that I'd been staring at my deskmate's thumbprint for so long.

I press down on Derrick's thumb with nearly all of my strength. It doesn't move an inch. I look toward the palm of his hand, and, using his thumb for support, I manage to lift one leg and plant it on the fleshy surface in front of me. I push off from Derrick's thumb and leap forward into his hand, only to trip on the squishy surface beneath my feet and fall flat on my face!

Derrick gasps. "Are you okay?"

I push against the skin beneath me and manage to get up onto my knees. I nod, my face completely red.

"We'll work on this," my deskmate says, lifting his hand from the balcony and closer to his chest.

"So, um..." I start, my gaze fixed on the palm I'm in. I'm interrupted, however, by a large finger lifting my head until my eyes meet Derrick's.

"Lesson two," Derrick says, "you should always try to look a perthean in the eyes when you speak to them. This makes it easier for us to hear you and perceive your emotions."

"O-oh, okay," I murmur, shivering.

Derrick smiles. "Now, what were you going to say?"

"Oh, I was just about to ask what happens now."

Derrick gazes off into the distance, his brows furrowed in thought. Did he not think he'd get this far?

"I was thinking we could just sit and talk for a while," he says, looking back at me.

"Talk?" I ask. "About what?"

"Anything," Derrick says, moving beside the balcony.

I sway from side to side in my deskmate's hand as he walks. I've gotten more accustomed to this with each passing school day, so I don't have to steady myself as much anymore. But when Derrick lowers himself to sit on the ground, I let out a yelp as the quick motion catches me completely off guard! My insides flip upside down, and I try my hardest to keep from losing my lunch.

"Sorry! Was that too quick?" Derrick asks.

"A little," I squeak, wondering what I've really gotten myself into by agreeing to meet back here with this guy.

"Sorry. I'll try to be more gentle," he says. "So... what do you want to talk about?"

"You're the one who wanted to meet back here in the first place. Shouldn't you be coming up with the ideas?" I ask.

I pick at my nails, keeping my gaze away from Derrick's. Once again, a large finger lifts my head until my eyes are locked with my deskmate's. I can't help but shudder as we glance at each other. Will I ever get used to the weight of his stare?

Derrick smiles reassuringly. "Alright," he says. "Let's talk about you."

My heart skips a beat as blood rushes to my cheeks. "What?! Why me?!" I ask.

"Hey, you said I should be the one coming up with the ideas!" Derrick laughs. "And besides... ever since we became deskmates, I've been curious to learn more about you."

I cross my arms and hang my head low to hide that I'm now blushing even harder. I've always hated talking about myself, it's so embarrassing! I'm not even that interesting!

"Come on," Derrick says, lifting me up to be eye level with him. "Can't you at least tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"I-I—" I stutter, trying to come up with any way to get myself out of this, only to sigh in defeat. "Okay."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Once Derrick and I got to talking, the time flew by. I told him a bit about the move, and he was surprised to hear that Dad and I traveled nearly 900 roams from Maedri to Chancelor. That's about 15,000 miles, which would feel like around 18,000 roams for a perthean. He asked why we would move that far, and I filled him in on how Dad really wanted me to go to his old high school. Thinking through it all again, it really doesn't make much sense. But, then again, neither does my dad.

Derrick told me a little bit about himself, too. He told me he lives with both of his parents, and that he has an identical twin brother who is away for university on Erimathea. I asked why they weren't in the same stage for school if they were the same age, and he mentioned something about his brother being able to graduate early. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with the topic, though, so I didn't push it much.

Before we knew it, we'd been talking behind the school for well over an hour. The funny thing is, the longer I spent in Derrick's hands, the easier it became to talk to him. I found myself trembling less and less over time, and I was able to maintain eye contact for most of our conversation.

"With exposure and with time," I recall Dad saying, "things can get better."

I shake the memory away. Sure, this meet up with Derrick is helping, but it wasn't Dad's idea!

"Uh-oh," Derrick says, glancing at his phone. "It's nearly 5 o'clock."

I let out a gasp as my eyes widen with realization. Dad's going to be expecting me home any minute now! I don't want him wondering where I've been! How in the world would I explain Derrick trying to help me with my fear? I can already see the smile on Dad's face. I can already hear him telling me how he knew sending me to this school would be a good decision. I can't just let him win, can I?

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Derrick asks.

"I... well," I stammer, not sure how to explain my situation. "My dad's going to be expecting me any minute now, and it usually takes me over an hour to walk home from here!"

"Really? Do you live far from here?"

"I think it's a bit far from here," I say, trying to mentally calculate the distance based on how long my walk home usually is. "I live at the human apartment building on Seren Avenue."

Derrick blinks. "Are you serious?"

"W-what?" I ask, a shudder running down my spine.

"That's right around the corner from here! That's not far at all," Derrick chuckles.

"Well, for you it might not be, but—!"

"I know, I know," Derrick says. "It's twenty times the distance for you."

I rub my arm. "I just don't know how I'm going to explain this to my dad," I mutter. "If he finds out we met up because of my fear, or that we hung out at all... I feel like he's going to hold that over my head."

My deskmate hums, leaning back against the wall. "I might have an idea," he says with a smile, lifting me to his eyes.

"Y-you do?" I stutter, still not used to when he holds me close to his face like this.

"Are you ready for your next assignment?" he asks.

"That depends," I say, scooting back a little in his palm. "what is it?"

"Will you let me walk you home?" He asks. "In favor of taking another step towards overcoming your fear?"

"I-I don't know..."

"Come on! What do you have to lose?"

I look into my deskmate's round blue eyes. I can't tell if he's encouraging me or pleading with me at this point, but does my answer even matter? He already knows where I live, so he can take me home whether I want him to or not. I guess it's good that he's asking, but... is this really a good idea? What will people think of a boy walking a girl home? What if the perthean lobby receptionist at the apartment sees us and tries to strike up another conversation? What if she tells Dad a perthean boy walked his daughter home? What will Dad think of Derrick walking me home? Ugh, he'd probably be ecstatic to see me getting along with my deskmate...

I take a deep breath and let it out. "Okay," I say. What could really go wrong?

"Alright!" Derrick says cheerfully, leaning forward to stand up.

"P-please be careful!" I plead in fear of being knocked about.

"I will," he says, being surprisingly gentle as he rises to his feet. "Now, Seren... Seren... that would be this way."

I sway around in my deskmate's hand with each step he takes. I keep my head down to prevent myself from getting nauseous, but I can tell when Derrick rounds a few corners and ends up on the sidewalk beyond the school grounds.

"We're almost there," he says.

"What? We just left!"

"It's that white building, right? About three blocks down?" Derrick asks, pointing to a small building far off in the distance.

I remember seeing pictures of the outside of the apartment online, and I guess it sort of looks like the building my deskmate is pointing to, but I can't really tell from this distance.

"Even if that's the right place, it's still going to take you at least a half hour to get there from here," I assert.

"Watch me," Derrick says.

"You're not going to try running it, are you?!" I exclaim, a sudden panic taking over.

"What? No, of course not! I'm going to take it nice and steady. Just don't be surprised when we get there in about..." my deskmate says, squinting at the white building in the distance. "Five minutes."

"Ha! Right!" I roll my eyes at his ridiculous estimate. There's no way what would take me an hour and a half is going to take him any less than thirty minutes.

As Derrick begins to walk again, I peek up from his hand every once in a while to see how far we are from our destination. To my surprise, we're approaching it much faster than I first anticipated.

I keep to myself for the most part, until something strange lands in Derrick's palm. I blink a few times, uncertain of what it is I'm seeing. It's long, a bit rounded, and a lovely shade of light pink. I reach out and poke it first, to make sure it's not some kind of bug. When it doesn't fly away, I lean over and take it in my hands. It's soft to the touch, though a bit wrinkly. It almost feels like some kind of plant.

"Hey," I say, my focus shifting back to my deskmate. "Do you know what this is?"

Derrick stops for a moment and looks down at the pink object in my hands. He tilts his head to the side, inquisitively.

"I think it's a petal," he says.

"A petal? From what?" I ask, excitedly scanning the ground beneath me for any flowers. To my disappointment, I don't see any.

"From that tree," my deskmate answers, pointing above and behind me to a massive heap of pink blossoms swinging in the wind, connected together by dark, twisting branches to a thick trunk.

My eyes immediately widen when it comes into view. The big blossoms float about in the sky high above us, and little petals rain down all around like snowflakes. This is a sight I've only ever dreamt about or seen in movies before. I never thought I'd get to see something like this for myself! The sky lights in Maedri's undercity always depicted cherry blossoms around spring every year, and I thought that was a sight to behold! But now I'm seeing the real thing? Am I really awake right now?

As Derrick begins to walk again, I try peeking around him to continue looking at the tree. Given his size, however, this proves fruitless. I slump in his palm, saddened that I only got a few moments with such a beautiful part of nature.

Derrick stops again, looking down at my slouching figure. He backs up a bit, and, reaching up to the tree, tears off a tiny section of a branch covered in flowers. He examines it between his fingertips for a moment, and then hands it to me.

My cheeks redden, and I can't help but let a smile creep across my face. Although I quiver at the sight of Derrick's nearing hand, I take the branch.

"For me?" I ask, my voice trembling.

"Mhm," Derrick hums. "A souvenir."

My breathing picks up speed with my heart rate. "Th-thanks," I manage.

Now I really can't let Dad find out about all this. What would he think of a boy giving me flowers?! I'd throw them right out if not for how mesmerized I still am by the sight of that tree.

After a few more moments of walking, Derrick stops again.

"The Apartments at Seren," he says.

I look up from the flowers in my lap. "No way!" I exclaim, dumbfounded.

"Well," Derrick says, pointing, "that's what it says on the sign."

Sure enough, the sign reads the name of my apartment building. Derrick reaches for the door to enter the perthean lobby.

"Wait!" I shout, only to bite my lip at the realization that I was a little too loud. "Um... is it okay if you just drop me off outside? There's an undercity entrance on the side of the building."

"Wouldn't it be faster to just drop you off inside?" Derrick asks.

"Well, it's just that... my dad likes to talk to the receptionist in there, and I don't know how he'd react if he saw a guy walking me home. And giving me flowers."

"Oh! Don't worry, I understand," he says. "I'll just set you down right here, then."

Derrick gently lowers himself to the ground, and places the hand I'm in down on the sidewalk. I rise from my place in his palm, wobbling a little at first as I struggle to stand. Bookbag and blossoms secured, I carefully inch toward the edge of my deskmate's hand, one step at a time, and then leap off onto the sidewalk.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Derrick asks.

"On Firsday," I say.

"Oh, right," he says. "I'll see you on Firsday."

"Alright. Bye!" I say, sheepishly waving as I make my way toward the undercity entrance on the side of the apartment building.

As I'm walking, I have a sudden realization— I completely forgot to thank Derrick! I turn around, only to see him walking away from the apartment building.

"Hey!" I yell, but Derrick doesn't seem to hear me.

I huff. I don't want to seem rude! I run after Derrick, as fast as I can, until I'm right beside him on the ground.

"Hey! Derrick! Wait!" I shout, hoping he'll hear me.

"Huh?" Derrick looks down.

The glass that veiled my fear for only a moment shatters as I stand face to face with a tall, tall perthean. From the ground. My eyes widen. My insides contort into a knot, and the world begins to spin around me. My heart slams against my ribcage and my legs tremble beneath me, again begging me to run away. Just what do I think I'm doing?

"Kaylin? Is everything okay?" Derrick asks.

"I-I— I w... I wanted..." I stutter and stutter, fumbling over every word as I rack my brain for whatever it was I wanted to say.

Derrick must realize I'm struggling, so he kneels down closer to the ground. "Yes?" He asks.

"I-I... I wanted t-to... I wanted to thank you!" I say, crossing my arm over my chest and leaning forward. "For helping me, and walking me home."

"Oh!" Derrick smiles. "Don't mention it."

"O-okay! S-see you on Firsday," I stammer, all at once giving in to my quaking legs' pleas and running as fast as I can away from Derrick and toward the undercity entrance without looking back.

This fear just isn't going to quit, is it?

[heretoobsessstuff]

Helllooooo so the wip I posted a snippet on a few days ago is finally hereeee!! You could read it on ao3 here:

Summary/snippet:

During the second night, when Bucky was barely lucid with fever, he had opened his eyes to see Gale with his head resting where he was holding Bucky’s hand in his own. “You got to fight this John” Gale whispered into their linked fingers. “Thought I lost you once. Can’t do it again” Bucky was about to turn and tell him he’s alright and that Gale needs to go to bed because his back was going to kill him in the morning with the way he was crouching like that. But he fell silent in shock as he felt moisture on his knuckles. Gale was crying silently against his hand. His breathes left him in quiet huffs as he held on to Bucky. Tears falling drop by drop. Bucky felt helpless as he squeezed his eyes shut. Felt his own eyes burning as the wave of emotions hit him like a freight train. It felt surreal to witness this. To witness Gale crying. Crying over him. Years of wondering what would make Gale break and in the end, it had been him. It filled him with shameful hope. Hope that maybe what Gale felt for him was more than just a friendship. I thought I lost you too. He thought but he had told Gale that already it feels like a privilege to feel your tears on my hands. He remained silent. Gale obviously thought Bucky is asleep so he refused to interrupt Gale’s private moment with useless words. He didn’t want Gale to put on that mask back on have to pretend he’s fine for Bucky’s sake so he just pretended to sleep. He kept his grip on Gale’s fingers strong, though. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on his knuckle as sleep and fever swallowed him again. If Gale noticed it, he never said anything about it and that was that.

Or through the years, Bucky has developed a complicated relationship with Gale crying.

Pls let me know ur thoughts and comments and anything you’d have to say rlly! Ill b more than happy to hear themmmm ❤️❤️

[thomine]

balter

balter: to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment.

fischl x reader, 1.3k words :: general audiences, canon compliant, not proofread.

notes: prompt list (req closed) :: requested by @dkniade (thank you!) i hope i did one of your favourite character justice!

As the respected familiar of Prinzessin der Verurteilung, Oz, the Raven Knight, has little say in matters related to where he goes for investigations. It is not him to question the superior instructions of the one he serves either, so he normally ignores any patterns that might pique his interest… But it is challenging to put aside a fourth occurrence in a week. At his altitude, as he soars across a flat mountain top west of Mondstadt, your Adventurers' Guild attire paints you as a geeen speck accented with red. If he wasn't experienced, he would have mistaken you as a violently shaken valberry bush.

You are flinging your arms, twisting your hips, tapping your feet to an obscure rhythm, displaying a raw and energetic performance he wouldn't pay tickets to see.

However, it isn't only him who sees you. Oz is not an ordinary familiar. He acts as the Prinzessin's eyes, and she can't take them off your baltering figure.

He may find no joy in seeing you dance, but the Prinzessin's feelings influence his wings to descend. He rests on a nearby rock behind low bushes, a good distance to notice the details of your expression given his sharp eyesight yet not disturb your performance. He watches intently for the Prinzessin's sake, and when you wrap up your session, Oz flies to Stormterror's Lair to start the Prinzessin's commission.

"Congratulations, Fischl, for another report full of praise from your previous commissioner. He said the information you've collected was perfect." Katherine, the representative of the Adventurers' Guild, places a pouch of mora on the table for the taking. Oz's milady strikes a pose she practices behind the mirror every morning, her victory laugh a show of her strong diaphragm.

She accepts Katherine's praise in that creative way of her's, talking about how a royal such as her will always deliver, the years of traveling worlds is another reason for her quality of work.

Katherine claps with a friendly stiff smile pasted across her face. She is probably one of the few adventurers who can understand his milady's unique speaking patterns, leaving him a spectator. A role he doesn't mind and often finds respite in. It is in these moments of tranquility that Oz likes to take a look around them, observing the citizens strolling by, noticing the clouds ahead, and listening to the gentle breeze. He spots you near the plaza's fountain. You are at the ledge, tossing golden mora into the waters.

After their polite conversation, Fischl does a few more poses to celebrate her successful commission and snags the bag of mora with eager eyes.

As her mouth drools, Oz's milady goes to great lengths to ask if he wants a bite at Good Hunter, to which he accepts. It has been a while since they could rest on evenings since that is the time you dance. But today, you weren't there.

They are about to enjoy their snack when Fischl stops short at the stairs leading to the eatery. Her eyes land on you just as you get off the ledge.

You wave, a wide grin on your face. The Prinzessin turns to Oz with panic in her eyes. She may have practiced her greetings but she was not prepared to face you. In fact, she never believed she could after that incident where she criticised your dance. She really just meant you had to improve in order to be at the stage!

"I never said I wanted to be on the stage," you said then, a forlorn look on your face. "It was meant only for you."

Since then, you never brought up dancing. You weren't in your usual spots either. Fischl would accept extra investigation commissions as an excuse for Oz to take the skies and search Mondstadt for you.

The relief she felt when she saw you dancing freely with tall blades of grass…

Oz doesn't understand you. He understands why his milady made such comments. Your dancing skills aren't anything impressive. Clumsy even. But whenever he stopped to watch your performance, the Prinzessin observing through his view, in such a state their feelings blended and he felt affection—a warm thing in his feathery chest.

His milady emits a nervous laugh, eyes darting left and right for an escape route but it's too late. Ecstasy fuels your legs and you're faster than Oz remembers. Must be all that dancing. In seconds, you've skipped through the flight of stairs and land in front of the Prinzessin.

"Fischl, milady!" You greet, bowing. "The wishing fountain really does work!"

The Prinzessin's mouth hangs open, but she is quick to recover with a comment on how royals like her don't neglect the wishes of their people. She is flushed, nervous, but you laugh and smile even brighter. There is desperation in the way you gingerly grab her hands, which she welcomes. As you invite yourself to interlock with her fingers, she doesn't withdraw. In fact, her face reddens.

"I've been looking for you, but Katherine said you've become exceptionally busy."

She then goes on a spiel about the expected bustling life of someone as herself: traveling, adventuring, and discovering. Due to her lifestyle, she is hard to catch, so you should be grateful that you have been graced with her presence aligning with your need to see her.

"She means, 'Why are you looking for me?'" Oz says.

"It's not something really important…" your enthusiasm falters, eyes deflating to fall to the floor. "But I hope you can see it still. It wasn't right of me to just walk out that day, but… come, I'll show you."

The Prinzessin looks at Oz for help, but Oz knows better than to speak. Plus, since her fingers are interlocked with yours, when you pull her towards the gates of Mondstadt, she—who doesn't want to let go—has no choice but to follow.

Oz flaps his wings, following in tow. Past the bridge, milady catches up with you and an easy conversation flows. She asks how you've been in her own unique way, adding hints for you to ask how she's been which you take. It's about the halfway mark that Oz knows where you're taking the Prinzessin, the route all too familiar.

Not long after, you're on your stage far away from civilisation. In the stretch of grass, it is just you, your milady, and Oz.

"I did my best to improve," you shyly start. You point at a rock that Oz lands on to watch your covertly. You've removed the bushes so there will be no discomfort. "You were embarrassed with other people watching as well, so I thought this would be the best place."

Milady loses a bit of her personally pointing out your efforts to improve. You nod and take a few steps back.

"Would the Prinzessin indulge with me, letting me entertain her for this fleeting moment?"

A small smile graces the Prinzessin's lips. She had shared with Oz one sleepless night that she didn't hate your dancing. It was beautiful in an imperfect way. It was admirable how you didn't care for those who looked at you with weird stares, how you were so assured with your choice to dance despite what others said. It was a confidence she craved, something she told herself she had but on such nights she wondered if she did.

That day, when you told her you only danced for her, it struck her how you were the way you were towards dance because nobody else mattered to you.

She shouldn't have been embarrassed, but she was. And her embarrassment cut deeper than she expected.

She had so many people to prove while you only wanted her approval. Perhaps… she only had a small few to prove too.

Milady then watches as you fling your arms in the air. There is no music, no rhythm, and nothing's really changed from the way you danced in that messy style of yours, but for once it isn't the Prinzessin seeing through Oz's eyes.

Through her eyes, Oz notices the subtle beauty in your authenticity. And as the sun sets a beautiful orange backdrop as your stage, there is only Oz, Fischl, and your confessional moves.

author's note: as you can tell i kind of gave up with fischl's way of speaking lol. i'll tackle that bump when i get to it... another day... for now, since this is a writing prompt i won't tear my hair off for it, haha...

[weallhaveadestiny]

OK SO

I started to think, that's never a good thing, but I can't get Butcher out of my fucking head and I read a shit ton of ff about him, and after many many years, it seemed I found inspiration again to dabble in fanfic on my own lol.

So behold, what my mind created, feedback is very much welcome for real HELP ME BE BETTER

I don't know if I'll do a follow up, who knows?

I didn't want to go to this party. For fuck sakes, why am I here?

I'm here because of one person, Frenchie. We met at a flee market, I was hussling with a seller in French and this dude fucking appeared out of nowhere. Apparently he doesn't have any friends who speak our language. So ye, I guess he needed that. He is a weird guy, but we hang out sometimes. He calls me mostly late at night when he can't sleep and talks rubbish about his "missions" like he is some type of agent I don't fucking know he seems high 24/7.

Anyway he was bugging me so much about this party, it's not even his, but he wanted me to come. Because "mon amie amuse toi un peu" aka I don't get out enough for a woman in her 20s and it's a crime. So here I am, left alone by mister Frenchie with a glass in my hand, thinking if I escape now he wouldn't notice. Sounds cliche I know but I genieunly don't feel good surrounded by people I don't know. Call it social anxiety, I call it "I don't like people syndrom".

OK lemme find an exit, where is the door in this fucking mansion?

I was looking everywhere until I saw this guy. Brunette, arms crossed, looking at me super intensely across the room. What the fuck is this guy's deal? Jesus I don't have time to deal with men. So now I'm just crossing this room, having to pass in front of him to get the hell out of this place.

"OI leaving already?" The fuck ? I kept walking

"Frenchies girlfriend, I'm talking to you."

I looked at him, not saying anything. I should just keep walking.

"I guess Frenchie likes them quiet ain't he?" this time I fully turned to him, fuming.

"What did you just say to me?"

The dude was actually smirking, who does that?

"she talks!" Frenchie got to us. Fuck...

"Ava mon amie, monsieur le Charcutier. You already met?"

" Pas du tout. Frenchie j'allais justement partir, excuse moi mais vraiment It's not my crowd."

"Come on Ava you can't leave already"

"You know how I am around people I don't know, and you know so many people here, one less is nothing."

"Come one now love, live a little" says monsieur Charcutier? , still smirking, his body tilting in my direction. I was so done with him already.

"Charcutier dude..."

"Actually it's Butcher but you can call me Billy." he winked, he fucking winked.

"I'm not talking to you." I turned towards Frenchie

"Frenchie, I'll call you in the morning to check on you" I got closer to him to do our usual 2 kisses.

"Don't be a cunt and stay. Afraid you might enjoy yourself?" Butcher just doesn't ever shut up. I turned to him and pointed my finger in his direction. I could actually hear Frenchie chuckling.

"Listen here, butcher boy, I don't owe you shit, you don't know me, so don't act like you do"

"Frenchie tell your friend to get that stick off her fuckin' ass and have a drink with us." he said, never breaking eye contact with me

"Ava mon cœur... Come on, just an hour... For me?" He gave me those puppy eyes. Who was I kidding?

"You have one hour, ONE HOUR and I get out of here okay?"

"je t'aime" Frenchie said, hugging me like a mad man

"yeah yeah je t'aime aussi" pushing him off me

"And where's my hug?" Says Butcher

"Go fuck yourself."

[some-thrilling-heroics]

this might be a weird take but you know how astarion spends most of the game trying to figure out who and what he can be outside of what cazador made him? i kinda feel a lot of that with shadowheart too. except with her it's much less of an active effort until we come to the end of the gauntlet and stuff is revealed.

astarion has a lot of anger and bitterness, and for shart that's where i see her need to conform to what shar wants of her? astarion has this front of 'im so seductive' and her front is 'fuck off, respect my privacy' imo, you can hide so much behind that - or in her case, hide how little there is.

im aiming to have her be very contradictory and self-cenzoring in speech and thought patterns to show the cult influence on her. how she hopes the hand pain has meaning (not what sharran doctrine says) but then other times she just recites sharran doctrine as if to show see? i know my stuff, i'm a good sharran (she's so not). i want her to be overcompensating for her slip ups and while she's having doubts to double down on the shitty things.

but also i worry that my way of showing her trying to get / keep shar's favor and be a good sharran come off as just her being an ass when she's giving sharran style advice😩

i get shart is pragmatic and likes animals and has a favorite flower but i'm now trying to think abt the intersection of personality and memory bc she is pretty much a blank with very few memories and idk, that feels like it should be relevant when the sense of self is concerned.

like, bad or good or neutral memories, they all reflect something abt a person and if you don't have much of that how do you think of yourself as a person? it would be cool i guess to not feel the random burst of guilt at that silly comment you made 20 years ago, but also knowing what you did in the past (and what has been done to you) is how you know what you want from the future. at least a little?

astarion has his 200 years of pure shit and i bet he would love to forget some of it if not all, but i feel like it fuels him a lot too. or maybe it's just me. so many things i wish that have not happened in my life but every single one informs how i act now and what i strive for. and shadowheart doesn't have that. all she has is 'shar wants this from you' and that's it. when offered a shroom to see some of her past she doesn't feel she's allowed to know it. she doesn't feel she has a right to her own past. she's only just learning how to be herself outside of 'lady shar this and lady shar that' and im getting a lot more wary anxiety abt it from her as opposed to astarion's fury. idk i feel like they mirror each other so well.

[lapis-not-lazuli]

guys do i write my werewolf connie fic or

[desolationlovrs]

2ourdust was something kinda magical, wasn't it? 🖤

Only a few short months to go until Las Vegas, until I'm back in the desert heat, until I'm back at the barricade, until I'm back in a sea of friends and strangers 50k deep screaming til my lungs give out.

And I can't fucking wait

📸 by me, Fall Out Boy, Seattle 2024

[godduh]

dear chase- oh shit, there's stickers

[ts3creatorscave]

Creator Community Good Faith Practices

Here at the Creator’s Cave, our mission is to create a ‘safe space’ for people to learn how to create new content and mods for The Sims 3, and share their knowledge of how to create new content and mods for the Sims 3.

Frequently, new custom content (CC) is generated by making edits to existing CC. As part of the above mission, we feel it is required of us to encourage ‘Good Faith’ practices, and to discourage ‘Bad Faith’ practices when utilizing content from other creators in your CC or mods.

We've made a  list of ‘Good Faith’ and ‘Bad Faith’, and ‘Grey Area’ practices to serve as guidelines for both existing and aspiring creators.

We asked those in the discord to help distill and tweak it, and will continue to make alterations based on feedback from the creator community. These guidelines are primarily enforced by the community itself, and other creators may decline to provide assistance to someone who is using ‘Bad Faith’ practices.

Here’s a link to the doc for any interested: TS3 Creator Good Faith Practices

[the-everqueen]

the degree to which i want to just tell my "mentor," You win. i'm burned out, i'm tired, i don't feel capable, i don't think my work is actually doing anything useful for the field, i want to be done, the dream of being able to do good work in a hostile place for the others like me, who were meant to never get here--that's no longer a dream because i'm not sure it's actually possible. i quit. it was stupid of me to think for almost a decade that maybe i could carve out a space.

[lucienarcheron]

Bouquet Full of Loathing [ Elucien ]

Inspired by: this  and the Flower Shop Modern AU - Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?” | Originally posted on my previous blog on 10.01.2017.

Pairing: Lucien x Elain Genre: Fluff/Humor Rating: SFW Recommended listen: McFly - Love is Easy

Author’s note:  This was my first ever acotar fic and will always hold a special place in my heart!

*slam*

“How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you to someone in flower?”

Lucien was furious. He was fuming. He was positive that if was possible, he’d actually be on fire. It was too fucken early for him to be going back and forth with his coworker but that bitch loved to undermine him and continuously make his life hell at work.

Due to his outburst after their latest argument, his manager, who also happened to be that demon’s manager, was forcing him to make amends by buying her a nice bouquet of flowers to say he was sorry. Which he wasn’t. Not even in the slightest. But oh, she was going to get that bouquet of flowers.

The Fawn’s Greenhouse was only a few blocks away and taking a walk gave him a way to release some of his anger. But what he didn’t expect was to find a beautiful young woman behind the counter, staring at him like he was crazy. Then again, who walks into a flower shop and demands those kinds of flowers?

His eyes went to the nametag on the front of her dress and he felt his face go red.

Elain. Such a pretty name for such a pretty girl.

Elain, on the other hand, was slightly taken aback.

She loved her flowers. She loved any flowers.

She loved growing things in her garden and every single part of the process mattered to her; planting the seeds, watering them, monitoring their growth, and finally when they blossomed. Her flowers were her babies.

When Feyre and Nesta offered to pitch in and help her open her own flower shop, she was over the moon. Her own savings had fallen a little short and she was thrilled to have the support from her sisters. The Fawn’s Greenhouse was only a few blocks away from where Nesta worked as an editor at a literary agency and a few extra blocks from where Feyre taught Art at the local community college.

It was a great way for the three of them to meet for lunch or dinner quite often, as they would be tonight.

But to Elain, flowers meant many good things: happiness, gratefulness, new beginnings, apologies, and forgiveness. So when this strange angry red-headed man stormed into her shop and slammed money on the counter, growling at her, she was very taken aback at his request.

Elain finally blinked rapidly then chuckled. “Well, hello.” she said and leaned against the counter. “There are a few different ways to do that, Mr…?”

All the anger that Lucien had walked in with completely vanished and was replaced with awe as he took in her features. Gods, she was gorgeous.

Elain tilted her head to the side and Lucien almost combusted as she gave him an encouraging smile and he cleared his throat.

“Lucien.” he mumbled, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, the color on his cheeks matching his hair. “My name is Lucien.”

“Welcome to my flower shop, Mr. Lucien.” she replied automatically and gave him an even wider smile. “I see someone’s ruffled your feathers this morning.”

Lucien snorted, causing Elain to giggle. “Ruffled my feathers. More like plucked all my feathers to death that psychotic bit —” he cut himself off as Elain gave him an amused look. “I’m sorry. Let me start over.”

Elain watched, trying to hold back a laugh as Lucien took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. He smiled at her and she smiled back.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hello.”

“You have a very lovely flower shop.”

“Thank you! I’ve worked very hard on it.”

“You are also very lovely as well.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself.”

“You could tell me I looked like a piece of filth and I would honestly take it as the highest of compliments.”

Elain burst out laughing at that and Lucien grinned. Score for him.

“Well, that wouldn’t be very nice to say to anyone.” Elain replied, shaking her head with another chuckle. “Besides, it wouldn’t be true. You’re quite lovely yourself.”

Lucien leaned against the counter, the gap between them growing smaller. “I have never felt so lovely in my entire life.” he said, and with an exaggerated flick of his wrist, tossed his hair over his shoulder.

Elain laughed again and Lucien realized he’d only been in the shop for five minutes but he’d sell his soul to hear that sound over and over again.

“You have quite the humor, Mr. Lucien.”

“Lucien. Just...Lucien.” he corrected her gently with a smile. “Mister sounds too formal and I’d prefer to be on casual terms with the person that’s going to give me my special request flowers.” 

“Your ‘fuck you’ flowers?” she asked with a grin and he had the audacity to give a nonchalant shrug.

“The person deserves them, I can assure you.” he replied and sighed. “It’s my coworker. She makes my life a living hell at work. We had a fight and my manager is forcing me to get flowers as an apology. This is me trying to be nice.”

“By sending her ‘fuck you’ flowers?” Elain asked again, her lips twitching. She wondered about this so called ‘horrible coworker’.

“Keyword here, is trying.” he said with a grin and Elain laughed. “Not all of us can be as nice as you, Elain.”

Elain’s cheeks flushed. She liked the way he said her name a lot more than she’d care to admit.

“And how do you know I’m nice?” she countered, leaning off the counter and crossing her arms across her chest with a smile. “You’ve only just met me.”

“Your name is Elain, you’re beautiful, and you own a flower shop. You could literally stab a man in front of me and I would just say he had it coming.” Lucien promptly replied. He sounded insane, he was well aware, but instinct told him he wasn’t wrong. “Also, you smell really nice.”

Elain rolled her eyes and wanted to curse herself for the blush on her cheeks and the smile that was way too wide. “Are you always this shameless of a flirt, Lucien?”

He straightened up as Elain pulled out a book from under the counter and placed it in front of him, flipping through the pages. “Only with pretty girls who own flowershops named Elain.” he said and gave her a charming smile when she paused her flipping to look at him.

She shook her head and chuckled lightly. He was shameless. Very handsome but oh so shameless. “So,” she started, going back to flipping through her flower book for the right ones to fit his order, pointing as she explained. “We have a few options for your amusing choice in the bouquet. There are Geraniums — Horseshoe Geranium which specifically means stupidity and Foxglove flowers which can mean insincerity. There’s also Meadowsweet flowers which mean uselessness, Yellow Carnations that indicate you’re disappointed in a person and last but not least, Orange Lilies which symbolize hatred.”

Elain finally looked up at Lucien, whose grin had gotten wider and wider with each flower that she rattled off and she laughed at his expression. “I take it all these options sound good?” she questioned with a raised brow.

Lucien’s grin was wicked. “Oh, these sound fantastic. Can I have a mix of them all in a bouquet? Please?”

Elain rolled her eyes and chuckled. “As you wish, good sir.” she said then pursed her lips as she started writing down his order. “Is there a note you’d like me to add with the bouquet?”

His eyes lingered on her pursed lips long enough that Elain had to look up confused at his silence and a blush crept on both their faces.

“Sorry.” he said with a sheepish grin and Elain bit her lip, holding back a smile as she continued filling out the order. A moment passed in silence before she responded.

“I don’t mind.” she said softly.

“Good. Because there’s a lot to admire.” Lucien responded, leaning back on the counter, closer to her.

“I’m sure getting spoiled with compliments today.” she said, giving him a playful smile and he grinned in return.

“They’re all well-deserved compliments. I meant them all.”

“Oh, I know. It’s why I haven’t kicked you out yet.” she said as she moved around her counter, grabbing a note card for him to write on and a pen as he laughed. “For your note. The bouquet shouldn’t take too long...I’m caught up on all my early orders. Would you like to wait or should I have them delivered?”

She tilted her head, waiting for his answer and the smile she gave him told him their thoughts were on the same wavelength.

She wanted him to wait.

And wait he would. He’d wait an eternity for those fucken flowers as long as she kept talking to him. Lucien had shamelessly told her this, realizing too late that he was babbling his thoughts aloud.

Elain’s laughter was enough to ease his embarrassment and the two continued chatting as she moved about, putting the bouquet together. Lucien watched her, appreciating the way she moved and talked and the way she laughed at his jokes. Elain’s cheeks were stained red as they talked, trying to contain how much she was enjoying the attention he was giving her, and how invested he was in everything she was saying and doing. Their conversation was comfortable and flowed so naturally that both of them were slightly disappointed in how quickly she finished.

Giving him a shy smile, she gently placed the finished bouquet in all it’s glory in front of him. “Here it is!” she said cheerfully. “Your requested bouquet. Beautiful and full of loathing.”

Lucien grinned, eyeing her work approvingly. “It looks stunning.” he replied and Elain smiled widely, pleased. “Just like the lovely lady who put it together.”

Elain giggled as he reached out, taking her hand and kissed it. “You’re too much.” she mumbled and Lucien chuckled.

“I can’t help it. Something about you…” he said quietly and the two locked eyes.

“Something about you too.” she agreed and Lucien smiled. He paid her and balanced the bouquet in his hands. His eyes flickered between the bouquet and the beautiful girl who had made it and he quickly licked his lips.

“Would...would you like to go out to dinner sometime?” he asked and relief filled his whole body as she beamed at him.

“I would love to.”

“Great! Friday night?”

“I’ll be ready at 6:30.”

“Perfect.”

Elain smiled at him then grabbed one of her notecards and quickly jot down her number. “I expect more shameless flirting till then.” she said softly, curling a strand of hair behind her ear.

“And I will be more than happy to oblige.” He replied, giving her a wink and Elain giggled.

“I’ll see you Friday then.”

“I’ll be flirting with you sooner than that though.” he replied and she winked at him in return, a blush erupting on both their cheeks.

“I look forward to it.”

“Gods, you’re so fucken cute.” Lucien mumbled and Elain laughed, dipping her head shyly. “I have to leave before this kills me.”

She covered her burning face, grinning widely as she then waved him off. “Go back to work before you get fired.”

“Worth it.” he said, using his free hand to make a finger gun and she snorted softly as he waved then finally left the shop.

Elain bit her lip, smiling to herself. In one way or another, her flowers were always bringing her joy.

~

Elain rushed into the restaurant where she had agreed to meet her sisters earlier that day. She was very excited to tell them about her encounter with Lucien. He had kept his word about the shameless flirting and had her phone buzzing all day; she still couldn’t believe how it happened.

Her pace slowed down when she saw Feyre and Nesta, both seated at their usual table, secluded in a quiet corner of their favorite place. It wasn’t until she was close enough to hear their conversation that she froze completely. On the chair next to Nesta was her sister's bag and a bouquet of flowers that was strangely familiar.

Too familiar.

“And then this asshole hands it to me with a note that says ‘I’m sorry’ in quotation marks like the sarcastic little shit he is.” Nesta snarled and Feyre started laughing. “And then adds that I should look up the meaning of each flower to really appreciate his apology. I’m going to ask Elain what they mean.”

“You are really mean to him, Nes. I’m sure he’s not as horrible as you make him sound.”

“He’s a piece of shit. It brings me joy to make him miserable.” Nesta said with a snort and then noticed Elain. “Elain! You’re finally here. Come on, we’re starving.”

Elain approached the table and sat down slowly, smiling nervously. Oh boy.

“...Nice flowers, Nesta.”

“Thanks.” Nesta replied with a wave of her hand and then picked them up to show Elain. “I got them from a shithead at work as an apology. What do the flowers mean?”

Elain groaned internally. It was indeed her own bouquet full of loathing. She bit her lip. “The guy who gave them to you...his name is Lucien, right?”

Nesta froze and Feyre looked at her curiously. “Yes.” she hissed. Quickly grabbing the note card again, Nesta looked it over. “How did I not notice that he got them from your shop!? That bastard! Did he bother you?!”

“No! He was very sweet.” Elain replied quickly, blushing. “Actually...he asked me out on a date and I said yes. We’ve been texting all day.”

Silence fell on the table before Feyre burst out laughing and Nesta snarled, “What?!”

“It’s later this week. I’m...looking forward to it.”

“Like hell you’re going!” Nesta hissed. “With that idiot! That good for nothing garbage can —”

Elain cut her off with a look. “Nesta.”

Feyre’s laughter had finally subsided and she wiped at her eyes. “Nes...you should be excited for her. She likes him!”

Elain narrowed her eyes at Nesta’s face that was filled with rage, daring her to argue. Feyre looked between the two, her lips twitching.

“So what’s he actually like, then?” Feyre quickly asked. “We know Nesta hates him and makes his life living hell at work.”

Elain gave Nesta one more look before her eyes flickered to Feyre’s face and she gave her a small smile. “He’s actually really nice and funny. I —”

“He has a glass eye and a scar across his face!”  Nesta’s growl interrupting her.

“So?!” Elain automatically replied, pouting. “He got it in an accident! It makes him a strong person!”

“He has a glass eye!”

“It makes no difference to me! I like his personality!”

“He’s an asshole, Elain!”

“You think Cassian’s an asshole too and you’re living with him!” Elain hissed back. “Your judgement isn’t exactly perfect!”

“Well, she gets dicked down by Cassian so I mean…” Feyre interjected with a shrug and Nesta glared at her, her cheeks burning.

“That is irrelevant.”

“Is it, Nes? Is it really?” Feyre asked with a raised brow.

The table fell silent again as Nesta and Elain glared at each other and Feyre tried her best not to laugh. It was only when her phone beeped that Elain torn her eyes away from the vicious staring contest with her sister.

Text from: Lucien How’s dinner going with your sisters? Hopefully, I’m not interrupting anything.

Elain’s eyes looked back up at her sisters and her blush gave away who she was talking to, causing Nesta to glare even harder and Feyre to grin widely.

Text from: Elain No, not at all! I was just telling them about you…funny enough, one of my sisters knows you.

Text from: Lucien Really? What a small world! Which sister is that?

Elain hesitated before she sent the next message.

Text from: Elain The coworker you bought the bouquet full of loathing for. She goes by the name Nesta…though you might refer to her very differently.

Elain bit her lip, frowning after she sent the message. She flipped her phone over and then looked at her sisters.

“Now he knows we’re sisters.” Elain grumbled as Feyre rattled off their usual orders to the waiter.

“Good. If he’s smart, he’ll back off.” Nesta growled and Feyre shoved her gently.

“You back off. Let her live.”

“I don’t like him.”

“There’s a surprise.”

Elain’s reply didn’t make it to her mouth when her phone started ringing. Flipping it over, she blinked in surprise at Lucien’s name popping up. She immediately picked up.

“Hello?”

“I’m so sorry for interrupting you at dinner but I realize how awkward this position is for you right now.” he said, hoping he sounded as apologetic as he felt.

Elain chuckled, a small smile on her face. “Are you calling to tell me our date is canceled now?”

“No.” he replied and Elain’s smile grew wider at how horrified he sounded at the idea. He cleared his throat. “I actually wanted to apologize for saying those things about your sister earlier and I promise that I’ll behave and keep work and personal life separate so that you don’t have to feel weird because your sister and I hate each other. Professionally speaking.”

Elain laughed softly. “Just professionally?”

“...Please don’t make this more difficult for me.” he whined softly on the phone. “It’s bad enough I bought her a bouquet full of loathing from her own sister’s shop.”

“Plot twist, isn’t it?”

It was Lucien’s turn to laugh. “Yes, it is. Does she know what the flowers mean?”

Elain grinned. “Not yet.”

“Let’s keep it that way, please.”

“Fair enough.”

“Really, Elain? You’re letting that walking pile of trash interrupt our dinner like this?” Nesta said, making sure she was loud enough to be heard on the other end of the line.

Elain gave Nesta a reproachful look as Feyre shoved her again. “Behave.”

“Fine...but let me talk to him. He is my coworker after all.” Nesta said, her tone calm. She held out her hand.

Elain looked at her suspiciously but Nesta just wiggled her fingers. Her mouth went into a thin and she sighed. “Lucien, Nesta wants to talk to you.”

“More plot twists.” he said, chuckling.

“You don’t have to.” Elain automatically said but both Lucien and Nesta responded at the same time.

“Yes, he does.

“Yes, I do.”

Elain groaned and then held the phone to her chest. “Nesta...please be polite.”

“No guarantees.”

Squinting at her older sister, she finally handed her the phone with a sigh, pressing on the speaker so they could all hear.

“Hello cockroach.” Nesta greeted him and Elain facepalmed as Feyre snorted.

“Hello demon.”

“Of all the people you decided to hit on, you had to choose my sister?”

“I respectfully asked her out on a date. She’s a grown woman. I don’t really think it’s your business.”

“It isn’t.” Elain added and Nesta squinted at her.

“I’m going to be watching your every move and I swear to god if you so much as lay a finger on my sister, I will crush you with my bare hands.” Nesta threatened in one breath. “That is a promise you filthy little vermin —”

Elain snatched the phone from her hand as Feyre cut her off. “Nesta!”

“Jesus christ, Nesta. I’m not going to hurt Elain!” Lucien hissed on the phone.

“What if I want him to touch me?” Elain snapped, knowing it would silence both her sisters and Lucien. “Hm? What if I — what’s the phrase you used about Cassian and Nesta, Feyre? What if I want to get dicked down by Lucien? Would that be such a big deal?”

Lucien made a sound on the phone that sounded like he was choking as Nesta gasped loudly.

“Elain!”

Taking her phone off speaker, she put it back to her ear and spoke softly, “Lucien, I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

“Yup. Sounds good.” he responded, truly sounding like the air was being choked out of him and Elain's face turned red.

Closing the call, she eyed her sister and held up a hand as Nesta was ready to launch into a speech. “Listen. I know you’re my older sister and you worry about me because I love flowers and seem like a giant idiot who gets easily fooled —”

“That’s never how I think of you, Elain — “ Nesta quickly interjected, her face falling.

“And I know you’re worried about me because the breakup with Graysen was really bad and I was very hurt,” Elain continued, halting Nesta again as her voice shook. “But I am okay. I am fine. And I’m ready to try something new. So please….please be nice to Lucien. I want to see where this goes.”

Nesta fell silent and Feyre gently leaned over to pat Elain’s hand with a small smile.

“We know, Elain. We love you and support you in whatever decision you want to make.” Feyre said softly. “I look forward to getting to know him.”

“...I’m sorry.” Nesta added and reached out to place her hand on Elain’s other hand. “I’ll behave...Try to be nicer to him.”

“Thank you.” Elain said, a relieved smile on her face until Nesta clenched her hand tightly with death in her eyes.

“But if I ever heard the term dicked down and Lucien in the same sentence again, I will kill someone.”

Silence fell on the table once more as Elain closed her eyes, internally groaning at how she was going to have to address that with Lucien when she got home.

It wasn’t until the waiter served their dinner and walked away that Feyre finally broke the silence.

“But what if she does want to get dicked down by Lucien? Elain sounded very enthusiastic.”

“Feyre!” Nesta hissed as the youngest sister broke down in giggles.

Elain groaned audibly now, her face in her hands knowing Feyre was never going to let this go.

“I’m just saying, go Elain, if she does. Nesta said he was a redhead, do you think the carpet matches the drapes?”

“Feyre —  I swear to all the Gods I will stab you with this fork if you don’t stop.”

“Elain, you’ll be sure to share details, right? I want Nesta to know every detail of when you and Lucien finally get down to business.”

“Feyre —”

“Ohhhh what if Elain visits him at work and you walk in on her getting dicked down by Lucien in his office? On his desk?”

Feyre squeaked as Nesta assaulted her in some form or another. Elain had given up, sighing deeply, her face burning.

Who knew a bouquet of flowers would cause so much trouble?

[haveyouusedthispokemon]

No rest for the wicked!

I’ve queued up the Kanto starters as a test run for the new format ^^ They’ll start posting in about 6 hours