#i couldn't find any so i just drew it myself

[qwanderer]

Hello again! This time I'm pulling together a few different ideas from @wordsinhaled @nix-nihili @idliketobeatree and myself to create:

Five brunches that were just for Edwin and Crystal, and one where Niko was invited too!

CW: references to stalking and abuse

1. Cinnamon Swirl Muffins

Years ago

They became aware of each other when they both reviewed the same restaurant.

Edwin could find no fault in the place. The food was technically perfect in every way, precisely plated, the ingredients fresh and the combinations of flavors well reasoned. He had obviously given the place a glowing review.

The comments on that particular entry on his blog included a link to Crystal's vlog, and her review scornfully insisting that the place had no soul at all and that visiting it had been the most stultifyingly boring experience she'd ever had at a place.

Not in so many words. She was brash and casual; she swore freely in her reviews. Overall, she struck him as rude and uncouth, a troll, rather than a serious critic.

Edwin would have dismissed her out of hand, but the popularity of her videos far outstripped his little blog's readership.

He gave into the temptation to disparage her video in the comments. She countered, calling him snooty and snobby.

And thus begun their rivalry.

They argued over restaurants, recipes, techniques; he critiqued her pans and the fact that she kept her knives loose in a drawer! He stood by all his positions, but he kept at it because it was entertaining, and because it drew attention to his own blog. It was mutually beneficial, really.

The cinnamon swirl muffin recipe was the breaking point, however.

He'd once been given some bad milk as a prank by the other boys at school and he'd been wretchedly sick for days. Crystal's position was inexplicable and utterly irresponsible. Food critics were supposed to be advocates for the best of everything, and certainly shouldn't be suggesting people consume anything that had gone off.

Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft, however, was adamant that the best way to make her cinnamon swirl muffins was with sour milk.

After a long back-and-forth, Edwin reluctantly agreed to meet at Crystal's flat for a tasting. She, of course, filmed him with her phone as she set the muffins in front of him.

They did smell appealing, but that was no guarantee.

"If I am subjected to food poisoning because of this," he told her and the camera, "I will make you regret it."

"Dude," said Crystal, "you just saw me take them out of the oven. They're still warm. All the little critters are dead. It's just like the yeast in bread. Nothing to be afraid of."

"It is not the same thing as yeast," he objected, but he'd made an agreement, and so he gingerly selected a muffin, breaking off a small piece of it. He sniffed it.

"You're stalling, you coward," Crystal goaded him, but her expression held a humor that the camera couldn't see.

"Excuse me, I am savoring," he told her with raised eyebrows, "or at least attempting to."

"Well, go on, then. Savor away."

Edwin popped the piece of muffin into his mouth.

It had a light, resilient moisture and a buttery taste that formed a marvelous contrast with the flavorful sweetness of the cinnamon swirls. He frowned at the rest of the muffin in consternation, and then took another bite.

It was just as undeniably delightful as the first.

"So," Crystal asked pointedly. "What's the verdict?"

He narrowed his eyes at the camera. He gave a long sigh. And he said, "I am forced to admit that these are delicious."

She laughed at him, and turned the camera on herself. "There you have it, folks!" she crowed. "Even the great Edwin Payne of Deconstructed Palates has to bow to the superiority of my muffin recipe secrets!"

She turned off the recording. "Thanks for humoring me," she said. "That's gonna go viral, just see if it doesn't."

"Yes, well, only time will tell if I suffer any harm from this," he said ruefully.

"Nah," said Crystal. "I mean, I stand by my recipe, it's not dangerous, but also I didn't have any old milk so I just put a little vinegar into some fresh milk instead. It does the trick."

Edwin blinked at her. "That is dishonest," he said.

"Yeah, well." She shrugged. "Sometimes that's show biz."

He had to admit that he felt better knowing he hadn't actually eaten anything rotten.

That was the beginning of regular brunches between the two. These were not for public consumption, but instead showcases of skill at first, showing off and trying to one up the other. That changed fairly quickly; they both had too much respect for the food to use spite as a heavy seasoning. Instead it became for the pure joy of cooking for someone else. After all, breakfast food had always been one of Edwin's particular favorites to indulge in, and having someone to cook for made it even better.

2: Full English

Years ago

Edwin began to worry when Crystal stopped talking about her partner, David, and continued to worry when she stopped inviting Edwin to brunch at hers.

They still traded off cooking each time they met. Her excuse, that "Your kitchen is just better, Edwin," was undoubtedly true, but he could tell that wasn't the full story. He knew very well that she could work wonders in that little kitchen.

Her videos became shorter and more sporadic.

And then came the first time she'd ever cancelled on him.

He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but even over the phone her voice had the barest tremble in it, and it was as if he could hear his younger self in it, the desperate attempts at composure to fend off something worse.

"Crystal," he said carefully, "if you need anything, I am here."

There was silence for a moment.

"We're not even really friends," she said. "We're rivals. Just happen to both be in the business of food." But she didn't sound happy about it.

"We are friends," he told her, "and I mean it. If you need anything, please tell me."

The following silence was longer, and then she said, very quietly, "Can you help me move out?"

—

He came over early the next morning after David had left for work, and helped her pack the essentials, anything she'd need and anything she couldn't bear to part with. A futon and a folding table that just barely fit into her car. The entire contents of her kitchen.

She'd found a place above a butcher's shop that Edwin had never been to, but which was apparently the subject of one of Crystal's videos. The proprietor was frightening, but also sharp and sarcastic in a way that Edwin could appreciate, and he'd gotten distracted while carrying a box of Crystal's things by some educational and visually appealing signage that she had in her shop.

Once they'd gotten all of Crystal's things up to the new flat, she sat down at the folding table with a heavy sigh. "Ugh," she said, putting her hands to her head. "How do I even. Like. Do anything. Just keep doing life things like everything is normal." She looked around the strange kitchen, seeming utterly lost. "And it's my turn to do brunch, and you're supposed to feed people who help you move."

"Not to worry," said Edwin, assessing the tiny kitchen. "I will cook this morning."

"No, hey, it's really my turn to cook," Crystal said, shaking her head. "And I know you always like to have a plan ahead of time."

"I am always prepared to cook a full English breakfast," he told her.

She huffed out a sigh, staring him down. "Edwin Everett Eleazar Payne," she said, "you have done more than enough to help me today."

He did not back down. "Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft," he replied, "you are the closest thing to family I have, and you cannot stop me from doing what I can for you when you are going through hardships."

"Oh," she said, her voice small. "Yeah, okay."

"There are some components that are not ready to hand, but I can go out to the shops, it won't take long."

"I don't…" Crystal stopped herself. "No, sorry, it's silly."

"I am sure it is not," Edwin told her.

"I don't want you to leave just yet," she admitted.

He knew there were things more important than the food right now. But his stubborn instinct for serving a proper meal led him to ask, "Would you be all right if I popped downstairs for a bit of bacon? I'll be less than a moment."

Crystal smiled tiredly. "That is gonna be nice, isn't it?" she said. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll go bother you if you take too long."

—

They chatted as Crystal moved things around the flat a bit aimlessly and Edwin familiarized himself with Crystal's new kitchen, putting things in better order as he went, and started the familiar motions of putting together a simple breakfast.

"Hate to say it," Crystal said, "but it's a little sad that I'm the closest thing you have to family when I wasn't even sure you liked me until yesterday."

Edwin gave her a look. "You should know by now that I am brutally honest when I don't enjoy an experience."

"Yeah, unless you can’t come up with some technical explanation to hide behind, so you convince yourself you should like it," she argued.

There was, unfortunately, some truth to that, Edwin knew. "Fair," he said, and turned to face her. "Crystal, I enjoy our brunches immensely."

"Good," she said. "But. So. Really? You don't have anyone else like that? No family?"

"I have relations," Edwin told her. "We are not close."

"No, yeah, I get that," Crystal said, opening up a box and poking through it. "My parents aren't really. Around. They don't really care what I do or what happens to me."

Edwin thought about what that would have been like.

"My parents cared very much what I did, at one point," he offered.

"At least that's something," Crystal sighed.

"Perhaps," Edwin said. "But what they wanted was a son with flawless social graces, not prone to emotional outbursts, heterosexual, and inclined to the study of law."

"God. That explains so much." She shook her head. "I guess we're both screwed up, just in opposite directions."

It was true. And she was his closest friend, and he had seen so many of her vulnerabilities today.

"I can still feel it," Edwin said. "The weight of their eyes on me when I did anything even the slightest bit wrong. Laugh too loudly, eat too eagerly, slouch, complain. Come down to dinner in anything less than perfect dress for the occasion. They would make me leave the table, and I would go hungry."

"Fuck," Crystal said passionately. "Yeah. That doesn't sound better. I mean, yeah, I was ordering my own pizza when I was like, seven, but at least that meant I got to eat whenever I wanted."

"That doesn't make it right," he told her.

"I'm starting to get that," she said. "So, that happened a lot?"

"Regularly." Edwin sighed as he cracked the eggs into the pan. "And even when I learned not to actively disappoint, I still could not be the boy they wanted. Could never bring a nice girl home for them to meet, or pretend to be interested in discussions of law and finance. There was always some pointed remark that made it clear I was falling short."

He frowned down at the pan for a moment before retrieving bread for toast.

"I remember the times when every relative absolutely had to ask where I was planning on going to university. And of course I couldn't answer. I'd applied to the places my parents had most strenuously insisted on, to keep them mollified. But I already knew I wasn't going. I hid the culinary school applications. Hid the whole idea, until I couldn't anymore. And oh, when I told them, how they made their displeasure known. But I had committed, by then. I had made a plan. And it didn't involve them. My life would never involve them again, not really."

Crystal hummed softly, and Edwin became suddenly aware of what Crystal was currently going through.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm going on and on about my troubles, and you…"

"No, I don't want to talk about it right now," she interrupted. "Thanks for asking. Your sob story is a nice distraction, actually." She closed the box she'd been looking through and set it back down where it had been. "When you went to school, did things get easier?"

There was something wistful to the tone of her voice.

Edwin remembered that Crystal hadn't gone to university. That Edwin himself had made her very aware of that fact, on multiple occasions, when she hadn't known something that he'd learned in his very most basic classes.

He hadn't known any of it before those classes.

But the fact was that Crystal didn't need a degree in culinary arts to be a very effective food critic, a voice people listened to for a reason. He resolved not to do any more to make her feel as if she might be missing some crucial piece of expertise.

"Some things did get easier," he told her. "I had the space and resources to learn what I wished to learn. There was still homophobia and bullying, still expectations I couldn't possibly live up to. But I am not there anymore, either."

Crystal laughed darkly. "Look at us. Me needing so badly to be looked at that I move in with the first controlling abusive asshole who gives me any attention at all. And you needing so badly not to be looked at that your only friend didn't even know you were friends."

Edwin turned to look her in the eye again. "We're done with that," he told her emphatically. "We've found our way here."

Crystal got up and started towards him, and Edwin glanced at the eggs, turning off the hob before he could be tackled into a desperate, tight hug that he didn't know how to return.

But for Crystal, he would learn.

3. Spiced Onion Crepes

Months Ago

"Woah," Crystal said as soon as she walked into his flat. "Something smells really good."

"Is that so terribly unusual?" Edwin asked lightheartedly.

"Well, no," Crystal said, making her way to the kitchen. "But this is different. What are you making?"

"It's a spiced onion crepe," Edwin told her.

"Never heard of that," Crystal said, going over to peer at the mess on his counter. "Is it a new recipe you found somewhere, or have you been holding out on me?"

"I've been experimenting with some new flavors, if you must know," Edwin said, shooing her away to the table so he could continue cooking.

"Huh. Just out of the blue?" Crystal asked pointedly.

And Edwin wished he had lied, said he found the idea somewhere, because how could he explain that this fresh new burst of experimentation was because of Charles?

Charles, whom he barely knew, but whose smile he just couldn't forget about. Contagious even to think about.

Edwin finished up, plating the crepes and bringing them to the table.

"Okay, I have to try these," Crystal said, grabbing her plate out of his hand and digging in.

He rolled his eyes fondly and set his own plate down properly.

"Oh my god," Crystal said between bites, "I need this one for my recipe box, just so you know."

"I'll be sure to write it up for you," Edwin promised, taking his own first bite.

He'd had an idea of how he wanted it to taste, and he'd tasted some elements while cooking, of course, but, with everything together, as it was meant to be, there was a brightness to it, a liveliness, that surpassed his imagination, and that was unlike anything he had ever cooked before.

And Edwin knew who he owed the thanks for that.

"Ok, something is going on with you," Crystal said, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "What's got you smiling like that? You never smile like that."

"Like what?" Edwin asked.

"With teeth!" she exclaimed. "Come on. Tell me."

Edwin hesitated. It really was embarrassing how little time with Charles it had taken to influence him so much. By all rights there shouldn't be anything to tell, not yet.

"So there is something!"

"Crystal—"

"Don't Crystal me, Edwin—"

"Oh, all right," Edwin said, taking a breath. "It's just... I met someone, not long ago, and he..."

"You what?" Crystal's eyes went huge. "Where? When? You never go out—"

"It is not like that!" he hastened to correct. "It is not like that at all. I. I met him through work. He's. Well. He's the proprietor of an establishment I recently critiqued and I... find myself quite... well. I find I cannot stop thinking of him." Edwin laughed ruefully at himself. "It is rather silly, really, we have only met the once."

"Damn, Edwin. Who is this guy?"

Edwin knew he could never explain the impression Charles Rowland had made on him. But he felt compelled to try.

"When I was taking my nutrition courses," he said, "we read a scientific study which found that people absorb more nutrition from the food they enjoy and prefer, even over food that is nutritionally identical. That meant that joy was important to feeding the body. The pleasure of food is vitally important." He smiled. "At the time, it sounded like utter nonsense."

"It doesn't anymore?" Crystal asked.

Edwin peered down at the magical thing that he'd created. It felt like it had to be doing more for him than simply an average breakfast.

"I knew that I wanted to study the art of food for the joy it could bring," he said. "But somehow it is only now that I think I am beginning to understand exactly how much joy that can be, and how it fits into everything else that food is." He paused, thinking back over what he'd said and cringing. "No, sorry, I'm not making much sense, I'm afraid."

"I'd agree it sounds pretty out there," Crystal said, "but I just ate these amazing crepes? So I guess the proof is in the pudding."

Edwin laughed.

4. Idli, Chutney and Mango Lassi

Weeks Ago

It was just a snatch of unguarded conversation in the comments of an Instagram post that must have done it, Edwin thought in retrospect.

Niko Sasaki: I wouldn't want to get in the way of your brunches. I know they're important.

Crystal Palace: Not a problem. We're just gonna meet there this week. I swear, he spends more time cooking at that place than he does in his own home these days.

—

Edwin was quite proud of his latest batch of chutney. It might have been Aadhya's recipe, but she'd given the compliment of telling him that it tasted exactly right. That if she hadn't known better, she would have thought she'd made it herself.

He was stretching the rules of brunch this week because he hadn't been the one making the idli this morning, but he told himself it really wasn't so different than serving toast made out of storebought bread, which was obviously allowed.

"I'll bring you guys your drinks in a sec," Charles said, watching Edwin contemplate trying to carry everything at once. "So you don't have to be back and forth once you sit down to eat."

"Thank you," Edwin said gratefully, and carried the food to the small table Crystal had claimed where he sat, eager to explain the intricacies of the chutney technique.

They had only gotten a few bites in when Crystal stiffened. A cautious mood came over her that Edwin hadn't seen since…

"Oh my god, how did he find this place," she murmured, trying to hide her face and look casual at the same time.

Since he'd helped her move.

Edwin knew who he would see even before he turned his head.

"Fuck," he said, seeing David by the host station.

"I didn't know you swore," Charles said, coming up to their table with raised eyebrows.

"I do when I see Crystal's horrific ex," Edwin said darkly.

"Fuck, where?" Charles looked around as if he'd be able to spot David based on nothing but his aura, never having seen a picture of him.

Crystal blew out a breath. "It's been like two years since I dumped his ass, I cannot believe he's still trying to pull this shit," she grumbled.

"Well, maybe he's not here for you?" Charles suggested, although he looked a bit dubious about it himself.

Then David spotted them and strode towards their table. "Crystal! Crystal I'm so glad I ran into you, I really want to talk."

"No," Crystal said loudly.

Charles stepped between them before David could get within two meters of the table.

"Come on, babe," David said, craning his neck to peer around Charles.

"She said no," Charles told him pointedly.

"This isn't your business," David snapped at Charles.

"You are literally standing in my business," Charles countered.

David pushed forward, Charles pushed him back. It may or may not have been accidental that he used the same hand that held a brimming glass of mango lassi.

Which was now streaming down David's front.

"Fuck," David said, looking down at his yogurt soaked clothes.

"Right," Charles said. "Get the fuck out of my restaurant. Now."

David growled at him for a moment.

"Go!" Charles pointed to the door.

Only then did David turn around and leave, dripping as he went.

Charles winced. "Sorry about your drink," he said to Crystal. "I'll get you another."

"No, do not apologize for that," Crystal told him, looking impressed. "That was amazing."

"Well then," said Charles, grinning. "Don't worry. I'll always spill drinks on a raging dick for you."

"Ugh, thanks, you're the best," she told him.

Edwin couldn't help but agree.

5. Apricot Scones

Last Week

"So are you gonna make a move on your boy or not?"

Edwin nearly inhaled scone crumbs.

"Crystal, he is not my boy—"

"Yeah, not yet!" Crystal gestured at him exasperatedly. "Because you won't do anything about it. That's what I'm saying. Are you going to do something about it or not?"

Edwin opened his mouth to answer, wavered, then began, "I cannot simply—no matter what I feel for Charles, I—that is not how one makes decisions, Crystal, simply based on how they are feeling in the moment!"

Crystal gave a judgemental hum, clearly unconvinced.

"This is not…" Edwin sighed. "It's not a question of a bit of self-conciousness I need to be prodded out of. We both know I'm not shy about my interest when the situation calls for it," he pointed out.

"You mean when it's someone you don't really give a rat's ass whether they respect you in the morning or not," she said ruthlessly.

Edwin wanted to be able to argue, but he thought of the obvious example, his longest relationship to date.

Crystal had taken him to the restaurant where that began, as it did, with an overheard, half-joking "I could kiss whoever made this."

Thomas had taken him up on that, taken him home with Crystal's teasing good wishes, and Edwin had thought of the whole thing as fun, a lark, until Thomas had come down with feelings.

Edwin had tried, honestly tried, but it simply wasn't what he wanted.

Charles was what he wanted. But the nature of the relationship was so much less important than the time spent. The trust, the closeness. Everything they already had.

Perhaps this was the first time he truly cared how things might progress. The first person he was both attracted to and wanted to impress. Perhaps Crystal was right that he was brave only when it didn't count.

That weight was no less felt for having been pointed out.

"This is not something I can afford to ruin," he told her. "This show, the restaurant, it's important. To Charles, and to his mother. I could damage our professional relationship. And our friendship."

Edwin thought of how difficult it had been, thinking that Charles did not view their friendship as important enough to confide in Edwin about major events in his life. His mouth went dry.

"I could..." His voice failed. He started over. "I could lose Charles," he managed. "And that is... unthinkable."

"Okay," said Crystal, buttering another scone, "you've clearly already thought about this a lot. Like. Way too much. You do know you're completely gone for him, right?"

"I am entirely aware," Edwin said pointedly.

"And he's clearly pretty damn attached to you. Do you think it's fair to him to keep this secret?"

That—

Crystal might have a point about that. Just possibly.

But it made her a terrible hypocrite to say so.

"Alright, then why haven't you told Niko how you feel yet?" Edwin asked her.

"That's—" Crystal put down her scone in order to glare at him more petulantly. "That's different. She's busy, her career is just taking off—I can't fucking distract her with this." She stared into the jam jar morosely. "Besides, I'm not even sure she likes me like... that."

Edwin recalled vividly every time he had gone to visit Crystal only to find her in Niko's apartment instead, how often their conversations turned to Niko's accomplishments, how Niko looked at Crystal like she'd hung the moon, how when Edwin was helping Crystal move in, Niko had peeked her head out and gone completely still with the most wonderstruck look on her face.

He cleared his throat. "Crystal. I hesitate to criticize in such strong terms, but—"

"Please," she said. "You love to criticize. Don't front."

"Fine. Are you a fucking idiot, Crystal?"

She blinked at him for a moment.

"So you, uh…" She bit her lip. "You're pretty sure she likes me back?"

"I am certain," Edwin said.

She thought about that for a moment, and then shook her head. "Right, okay, and you can't see that Charles is like, way more enthusiastic about you?"

That wasn't a good point of comparison. "Charles is enthusiastic about everything," Edwin argued. "He exudes enthusiasm. It's what he does. Niko… is more selective in what she shows. The moments when she is speechless are most convincing to me."

Crystal looked like she really wanted to believe him.

"I don't know," she said.

"Well, you can certainly understand why I hesitate, then," he concluded, reaching for another scone for himself.

She pointed directly at him. "Buddy. This is more than hesitation."

"Yes," he agreed without reservation. "It is."

"Right. I'm gonna need you to unpack that a little."

He buttered his scone as he thought about how to explain… all of it.

"Sometimes one person admitting that they've come down with feelings is the beginning of the end," he reminded her. "And in some cases that's for the best, but I cannot believe that about Charles and myself. For one, it is about more than Charles and myself. It involves Niko and her project, everyone who works at the restaurant, the community around it…"

"Please, even if you do end up having relationship troubles it's not going to blow up the whole restaurant," Crystal said, rolling her eyes.

"But so much of it rests on Charles and Aadhya."

"Stop," Crystal said, holding up a halting hand. "Stop, nope, please stop and think about what's best for you for a minute, okay? Just for a minute."

Edwin let out a breath, and did.

He thought about the first time he'd been invited to share a meal by Charles and Aadhya not at the restaurant, but at their home.

They had served themselves out of communal dishes, nothing formally plated, and it had felt warm and intimate, like being on the inside of their lives instead of merely brushing up against each other.

That feeling was more important than anything else.

"So much of what makes my life feel worth living right now rests on Charles and Aadhya," he persisted.

A strange expression crossed Crystal's face.

"I'm glad I'm not the closest thing you have to family anymore," she said.

"You are my family," he told her firmly. "And so are they. And now I can say that with confidence because I know without a doubt what family should be."

Crystal blinked, and then wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and then said, "Yeah, okay, I get it." After a moment she gave him a brilliant smile. "Things are pretty great right now, huh?"

"Indeed they are," he agreed.

+1: Raspberry Beignets

Today

Crystal's flat smelled utterly heavenly. Coffee, fried dough, a tang of…raspberries. The scents drifted through the hallway, as she'd left her door open.

"Crystal?" Edwin called, not wanting to step in unannounced.

"Hey, Edwin, come on in," she answered, and as Edwin drew closer, he could hear her humming to herself.

That meant she was in a very good mood indeed.

He found her in her kitchen, dusting powdered sugar over red-speckled beignets and grinning from ear to ear.

There were three places set at the table.

Edwin blinked, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Crystal," he asked carefully, "why are there three place settings?"

"Oh, right," said Crystal, and her grin got impossibly wider. "So. A thing happened."

"A thing happened," Edwin repeated blankly.

"Well you know how it is," she said. "I love to prove you wrong."

"You do, in fact," he admitted. "What is this about, exactly?"

"Well, last week you said you were certain about something," she said. "And, well, I guess it turned out that spite was the thing that finally got me to test your theory?" She laughed, moving the beignets to the table.

Edwin cast his mind back to their conversation the previous week. And saying he was certain did ring a bell. About—

"So I asked Niko on a date," Crystal told him delightedly. "And I am forced to admit," she said, imitating his accent as she echoed the line from that very first brunch, "that you were right."

"Oh!" Edwin said. "She said yes, then?"

"I did," said Niko from the door.

"Hey, babe!" Crystal said.

"Hello, Niko," Edwin greeted her with a smile.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Niko asked, inching her way into the flat. "I don't want to intrude, I know brunch is usually a you two thing."

"I have absolutely no objection," Edwin told her.

And he didn't. Niko had quickly developed from an occasional acquaintance to a close friend over the past months, as they worked on the show together. She was a consummate professional when the situation called for it, and sweetly charming in a more personal setting. If Crystal felt comfortable with her here, then so did Edwin.

Niko squeaked joyfully, and rushed over to kiss Crystal on the cheek before taking her place at the table. "Those smell sooooo good," she said, looking at the heap of beignets.

"So," said Crystal as they also settled into their chairs, "any chance of you following my example anytime soon and confessing your feelings for a certain guy?"

"Crystal!" Edwin hissed.

"Wait, you and Charles still aren't dating?" Niko asked.

"No!" Edwin directed his exasperation at Niko this time.

"Oh," Niko said with wide eyes. "I thought you two had finally figured things out after that awful promo shoot. So Charles was actually staying over because you were actually super sick? Sorry, I totally thought that was code for… something else."

Edwin sighed deeply.

"I was, maybe, possibly, being a bit of an idiot about some things," he admitted, "and we cleared those up, but his friendship is too important to me to destabilize anything by bringing up romance."

Niko and Crystal gave each other a long, meaningful look and then Niko said, "Yeah, but the great thing is, the friendship doesn't disappear just because you get to kiss someone now. None of the good stuff does."

"Yeah, totally," Crystal agreed with an absolutely hopeless, lovestruck smile. Niko giggled in return, and their hands twined together on the table. Then, natural as breathing, they leaned in and kissed, soft and sweet and so, so happy.

Edwin eyed them thoughtfully.

It did give him hope.

3/? - Restaurant owner / chef Charles / Food critic Edwin AU - continued!

Hello, lovely folks - the restaurant AU continues and has outgrown its last thread, which is amazing! Here's a new reblog chain to reblog from and continue the journey <3 I'll also be updating the masterpost to add this one!

You can read the AU from the beginning here!

The masterpost for the AU is here!

[cha-lk]

rodimus as that one insane tfp starscream screenshot

[crowfanity]

Just realized I never posted my Defiant Dragons/Ace Attorney pride phone case

[canni-killer]

finish drawing. feel proud! see three pieces of art. i want to kill myself.

[idkyetxoxo]

Cregan Stark - Northern Oaths

Summary - The fearless princess, captivated by the raw beauty of the North, faces a harrowing ordeal when abducted. Lord Cregan Stark, mesmerised by her charm and charisma, is driven by deep concern to rescue her, braving the dangers of the wild to save her.

Pairing - Cregan Stark x Velaryon reader

Warnings - Violence (injury)

Word count - 2698

Masterlist for Cregan • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"I am more than capable of completing the journey on horseback, just like the others," I declared confidently, my fingers gently tracing the silky mane of the horse before me.

"Princess, I only mean to suggest that a carriage might offer a more comfortable option," Lord Stark replied, a hint of concern in his voice. I couldn't help but laugh, shaking my head in amusement.

"Lord Stark, my title may be 'princess,' but that does not mean I shy away from riding such a magnificent creature," I said, smiling as I carefully wove a braid into the horse's white mane, mirroring the intricate braid that adorned my hair.

"Of course," he conceded with a respectful nod. "Though I can only hope this fine beast provides as satisfactory a ride as your dragon," he added, a twinkle of humour in his eyes.

I chuckled at his words. "We best not let Silverwing hear such talk—she's rather possessive," I teased, swinging myself gracefully into the saddle.

As we began our journey to the Wall, the cold Northern air filled my lungs, invigorating and fresh. The landscape around us was a vast canvas of snow-draped hills and ancient trees, their branches heavy with frost. 

The North was wild, untamed, and breathtakingly beautiful.

Cregan rode beside me, his horse moving with practised ease through the snow-covered terrain. I took in the landscape, the wild beauty stretching out before us. 

"There's something captivating about the North," I remarked, my voice thoughtful. "It's untamed, yet undeniably beautiful."

Cregan glanced over at me, a faint smile curving his lips. "The North's beauty isn't always apparent at first glance, but it reveals itself to those who take the time to understand it."

I nodded, feeling a quiet understanding in his words. "I can see why your people hold it so dearly. There's a raw honesty to the land, something that feels... unspoiled."

He regarded me with a look of quiet appreciation. "It's rare to meet someone who sees the North as more than just a harsh, cold place. You seem to understand its true nature."

I met his gaze, a small smile tugging at my lips. "Perhaps it takes a certain kind of person to appreciate it. Someone who doesn't mind looking a little deeper."

"Or someone who values strength and resilience," he added, his tone thoughtful. "The North may be unforgiving, but it has a way of revealing what truly matters."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Comfort is all well and good, but it's often overrated, don't you think? I've always believed that a challenge is where you find the most reward."

Cregan's eyes flickered with something unreadable, though his expression remained composed. "Then the North might be exactly where you belong, Princess."

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that made me pause. Our exchange was subtle, an unspoken understanding that lingered in the crisp air between us. 

We spoke of the land, but it was clear that our words carried another layer of meaning, one that neither of us needed to fully articulate.

As our conversation continued, one of Cregan's men, a younger rider with a mischievous glint in his eye, drew his horse closer to us. He had been listening quietly, but now a playful smile crossed his face. 

"Begging your pardon, Princess," he said, glancing between Cregan and me, "but it seems to me that you handle a horse as well as any Northern rider. Perhaps you'd care to prove it?"

Cregan's expression tightened ever so slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "That's not necessary," he interjected smoothly. "The road ahead is treacherous, and a race could be dangerous in these conditions."

I scoffed lightly, meeting Cregan's gaze with a challenge of my own. 

"Lord Stark, do you truly believe I would back down from a bit of friendly competition?" I asked, my tone teasing but resolute. "I've faced worse than a little snow."

The young rider grinned, clearly pleased with my response. "A race it is then, Princess," he said, his enthusiasm infectious. "We'll start on your count."

Cregan sighed, his protective instinct warring with his knowledge that he couldn't stop me. "Very well," he said quietly, though the concern in his voice remained.

I turned my attention to the rider, feeling the thrill of the challenge stir within me. "On three, then," I said, my voice steady with anticipation. "One... two... three!"

In an instant, we were off. The cold air rushed past my face, and the snow crunched beneath the horses' hooves as we sped across the landscape. The thrill of the race consumed my focus. I urged my horse forward, feeling the powerful muscles move beneath me as we cut through the snow, the land itself almost falling away in the rush.

Beside me, the rider pushed his horse to match mine, his competitive spirit driving him forward. 

As we disappeared from their sight, the other men exchanged grins and murmurs of approval, but it was Cregan's gaze that lingered on me, a mixture of respect and something deeper.

I finally pulled my horse to a screeching halt when a group of men suddenly blocked our path. Their appearance was jarring, dressed in heavy, untamed furs that spoke of a life lived in the harshest of conditions. 

The young rider beside me did the same, his expression shifting from excitement to alarm as we realized we were no longer alone.

I cast a glance over my shoulder, noting with growing unease the considerable distance we had put between ourselves and the rest of our group. A cold dread began to seep into my bones, replacing the thrill of the race.

"Apologies," I said, trying to maintain my composure as one of the men stepped forward, his rough hand reaching for the reins of my horse.

"Princess," the rider beside me murmured, his voice low and tense. I frowned at the worry etched across his face.

"These men are wildlings," he explained, his voice barely above a whisper. The term meant little to me, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Aye, we are," one of the wildlings confirmed, a dark grin spreading across his face. "And if such royalty is riding these roads, then I believe we deserve an introduction." 

His hand shot out, gripping my arm with a roughness that made my breath hitch. I recoiled, shaking him off with a sharp twist of my wrist. 

"Lord Stark will have your heads," the young rider beside me interjected, his voice filled with defiance as he dismounted his horse and moved protectively to my side. "She is his guest."

"Shut up, boy," the wildling snarled, shoving him aside with a brutal force that sent him stumbling.

Before I could react, more wildlings emerged from the shadows, surrounding us with predatory intent. Panic surged through me as the man who had grabbed my arm yanked me off my horse, his grip like iron as I struggled against him. 

"Let me go!" I shouted, thrashing wildly as they dragged me away from my horse.

The rider attempted to intervene but he was quickly overpowered by the wildlings, who struck him down with ruthless efficiency. I fought with every ounce of strength I had, but the wildlings were relentless, their hands bruising as they forced me through the snow-covered forest.

"Lord Stark will find you! He will—" My words were cut off as one of the wildlings, a hulking brute with a cruel sneer, struck me hard across the head. 

The world spun violently, my vision blurring as pain exploded in my skull. I tried to stay conscious, to fight, but darkness closed in, my strength fading with every passing second.

The last thing I heard was the distant sound of my screams, echoing through the cold, unforgiving wilderness as I was pulled further away from safety, until finally, everything went black.

Back with the others, Cregan kept his pace steady, though his thoughts lingered on the race ahead. He couldn't help but feel a nagging unease. The thrill of the race was one thing, but the North was unforgiving, its dangers lurking just out of sight.

It wasn't long before the silence of the snowy landscape was shattered by a distant, panicked shout. Cregan's heart dropped as he urged his horse forward, the other men quickly following suit.

As they rounded a bend in the trail, the sight that met them was chilling. My horse lay sprawled on the ground, its beautiful silver-braided mane stained with blood. 

The elegant creature that had carried me so effortlessly mere moments ago now struggled weakly, a painful whine escaping its throat. Blood soaked the snow beneath it, turning the pristine white ground into a gruesome scene of red.

Cregan dismounted in one fluid motion, his eyes scanning the scene with mounting dread. Near the fallen horse, the young rider who had joined in the race lay slumped, his body bruised and bloodied. 

His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle. His hand pressed weakly against a gash on his side, blood seeping between his fingers.

Cregan rushed to his side, dropping to one knee as the men formed a protective circle around them, their eyes scanning the forest for any further danger. 

"Where is she?" Cregan demanded, his voice sharp with fear and urgency. "What happened?"

The rider coughed, blood staining his lips as he struggled to speak. "I tried...tried my best," he gasped, his voice filled with pain and guilt. "Wildlings... they ambushed us. They took her."

Cregan's heart pounded in his chest as the rider's words sank in. 

"They took her?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper as if saying it out loud would make it more real, more terrible.

The rider nodded weakly, his eyes clouded with pain and regret. "I fought... but there were too many. They overpowered us... they knocked her out and dragged her into the woods. I'm sorry, my lord, I—"

"Don't," Cregan interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. "You did what you could. We'll get her back."

He turned to his men, his expression hardening into one of grim determination. 

"Search the area," he ordered, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "We need to find their trail. They can't have gone far."

The men nodded, their faces set with resolve as they spread out. Cregan stayed beside the injured rider, his jaw clenched as he surveyed the bloodstained snow. The sight of my horse, now struggling to breathe, filled him with a cold, simmering rage. 

This was his fault, he should have insisted on staying close, should have anticipated the dangers. I was out there, in the hands of wildlings, and every moment that passed put me in greater danger.

I woke to the sharp sting of cold air against my face, my body aching from the rough treatment I'd endured. Disoriented, I tried to move, only to find my hands bound tightly behind my back and a coarse gag tied around my mouth. 

Panic flared as I struggled against the restraints, my breath coming in shallow, desperate gasps.

The dim light filtered through the rough walls of a small, makeshift shelter. The air inside was thick with the scent of damp earth and unwashed bodies. My head throbbed from where I'd been struck, the pain radiating down my neck with each movement.

A shadow loomed over me, and I froze, my eyes widening in fear. A man with tangled hair and a filthy beard was kneeling beside me, his rough fingers combing through my hair as if inspecting it. 

His touch was far from gentle, tugging at the braids with a crude fascination. I recoiled inwardly, a shudder of revulsion passing through me, but I was helpless to stop him.

"Pretty princess," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "Never seen hair like this. Like silver... like moonlight."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the horror of the situation, but the terror gnawed at me, refusing to be ignored. My mind raced with thoughts of escape, but every idea crumbled against the reality of my bindings and the presence of the wildlings who had captured me. 

I could hear their voices outside, speaking in rough tones, the words indistinct but filled with a sinister edge.

Suddenly, the shelter was filled with the sounds of chaos, shouts, the clash of steel, and the unmistakable thud of bodies hitting the ground. My eyes snapped open as the wildling beside me stiffened, his hand falling away from my hair as he reached for his weapon.

The noise grew louder, closer, and I could hear the unmistakable sound of swords cutting through the air, of men fighting for their lives. My heart leapt with hope, even as fear clawed at me. 

Was it possible? Had Cregan and the others found me?

The wildling cursed under his breath, his attention now fully on the commotion outside. He scrambled to his feet, drawing a crude blade as he moved toward the entrance of the shelter. 

Before he could step outside, the flap was thrown open, and Cregan burst in, his sword dripping with blood, his eyes blazing with fury.

The wildling barely had time to react before Cregan's sword flashed in the dim light, striking him down with a swift, decisive blow. The man crumpled to the ground, lifeless, as Cregan turned his attention to me.

The fierce determination in his eyes softened the moment he saw me, bound and gagged on the cold ground. He dropped to his knees beside me, his hands trembling slightly as he quickly cut through the ropes that held me captive.

"Princess," he breathed, his voice thick with relief. "I'm here. You're safe now."

As the bindings fell away, I pulled the gag from my mouth, and a sob escaped my lips before I could stop it. The fear, the helplessness, the dark possibilities of what could have happened, it all overwhelmed me in that instant.

I looked up at him, seeing not just a lord, but the man who had risked everything to bring me back. Tears streamed down my face as I reached out for him, needing to feel something solid, something real.

Cregan gathered me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest as if he could shield me from the horrors I had endured. 

"It's alright," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "You're safe, I swear it."

I clung to him, the sobs coming harder now, the terror of the past few hours releasing itself in waves. His presence was the only thing grounding me, keeping me from falling apart completely.

Cregan held me through it all, his hand gently stroking my hair as he murmured soft reassurances. The sounds of battle outside faded, replaced by the distant, muffled voices of his men securing the area. 

In that moment, all I could focus on was the steady rhythm of Cregan's heartbeat beneath my cheek, a reminder that I was no longer alone, no longer at the mercy of those who had taken me.

Finally, as the tears began to subside, I pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. 

"I was so scared," I finally managed to whisper, my voice trembling and weak. "I—I thought..." My voice broke, and the words wouldn't come.

Cregan's thumb brushed away a tear from my cheek, his expression filled with a sorrow so deep it made my heart ache.

"I know," he said softly, his voice filled with a deep, unspoken regret. "And I apologise I wasn't there sooner."

I shook my head, my grip on his arms tightening. "You found me. That's all that matters."

He nodded, his gaze intense as he searched my face, as if reassuring himself that I was truly there, unharmed. 

"I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed, the weight of his words settling between us like a promise etched in stone. 

In that moment, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, the cold, and the lingering fear, I felt something else, an undeniable bond forged in the crucible of danger. 

I clung to the knowledge that Cregan had saved me but more than that, I held onto the realization that in his arms, the cold wilderness of the North didn't feel so wild anymore, it felt like home, like safety.

 After all, there has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath.

A/n - There was sm more I wanted to add and once it hit over 2.5k words I realised I had to reel it in lmaoo

[meanbossart]

I LOVE DU drow and I love your art style! I also really like how you draw Astarion's hair, it looks flowy but still with his trademark curls.

Can you give any advice on drawing Astarion's hair? I find it a nightmare to draw. Whenever I free hand it, it just doesn't have the amount of curliness I want, and when I try to use a reference it ends up looking rather stiff.

Take care and thanks for the art 😊

THANK YOU though to be honest I'm shocked to find this ask in my inbox because every time I draw Astarion a war is waged between me and his hairdo. But sure, lets give this a shot!

First of all I feel like its a good idea not to be too attached to his in-game model hair when drawing unless your style is very realistic. The only reason why that dry-noodle helmet looks so regal and bouncy is because of the high-detailed graphics. Like you mentioned yourself and many of us have experienced, if you try and stick to it too closely in most art-styles it just ends up looking terribly stiff.

Instead, I suggest just keeping growth-direction and shape in mind and applying as much movement as you want to it when you draw it. Here's some things to remember that might help you with that:

-I employ the liquify tool a lot when sketching his hair because I never get it big enough on the first try, lol. This can also aid you with "distorting" more curliness into your lines if you aren't used to doing that right off the bat, just try not to become too reliant on it!

-I usually leave the areas around the ears and back alone but imply a lot of movement with the top and front of the hair, taking as many liberties as I want even if it's not entirely faithful to the model. I feel like the impression of curliness comes entirely from the silhouette of the hair and little fly-ways that I add, and everything else I just try to do without overthinking it too much for a more natural look.

In truth, I feel like a lot of times we get stuck on things like parting-placement, right amount of curl, which brush we're using yada-yada when in reality we are neglecting what actually makes a character's hair recognizable: Hairline, growth pattern, and shape. If you get these three things right I feel like everything else is entirely just stylistic choice. It's worth pulling away for a moment and checking on these things if you feel like you're continually unhappy with your outcome!

-Astarion has a hairline capable making most men over 30 cry. It's very low on the forehead and tight on the temples with the slightest hint of a widow's peak. As someone who drew a lot of big-foreheaded characters with receding hairlines prior, this was a STRUGGLE for me to get used to and a big reason why I felt like I couldn't get his hair to look "right" for the longest time.

-His hair swoops to the right side of his face in a fanning kind of shape and is the longest at the front and top. You can imply a strong part if you want, you can split it into sections, you can have it falling over his forehead or not at all - as long as it's going in the right direction you will probably be fine.

-A mistake I would catch myself making often was getting the shape totally wrong - making it too slick at the top and putting all the volume in the back when that's pretty much the exact opposite of what his hair does. IT'S ALL AT THE FRONT AND TOP, REPEAT IT TO YOURSELF LIKE IT'S A MANTRA: IT'S ALL AT THE FRONT AND TOP.

And lastly, if you absolutely hate how his hair looks or hate to draw it, you can forego all of this and just do whatever you want. These tips are only worth something if you like how I draw his hair specifically.

Hopefully this was helpful at all!

[ghoulfriends-and-tin-cans]

Howdy Partner - Part 1

I...yep. This fic finally broke out of the cage in my brain and found its way into the world. Careful. It bites.

If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Pre-War!Cooper Howard (Fallout Show) x fem!Reader

[A/N: This is just fluff with some suggestive language, because as sinfully hot as he is as a Ghoul, he looks like an absolute cinnamon roll as an actor.]

Warnings: Fluff, mild angst, mutual pining, idiots in love, they both think their feelings are unrequited, Cooper is already divorced, flirty friends to lovers, they both wanna kiss so bad, drinking but not heavy, mentions of alcohol, they're not tipsy but they have had a couple of glasses of champagne.

~*~

"Cut! That's a wrap for this week," the director called, and everyone on set began to disperse. Beginning to corral the various props so they could be stored until Monday, I breathed a sigh of relief that the week was over. Halfway through winding up one of the ropes, someone cleared their throat behind me.

"Pardon me, ma'am. Any chance an ole cowboy could int'rest you in a celebratory drink?" The faux western accent drew a smile across my lips before I could school my expression. When I turned, Cooper Howard stood in full costume with his cowboy hat held respectfully over his chest. Always such a gentleman.

"Surely there's some gorgeous starlet who you'd rather be drinking with, Mr. Howard," I teased as I laid the looped rope onto its hook. Clasping my hands behind my back, I blinked innocently up at the man who'd been my friend for years and had quickly carved a spot for himself in my heart.

"Now, why would I want to take another woman out on the town when the most gorgeous one in all of Hollywood is standin' right in front of me?" He murmured, and despite the pang it sent through my heart, I gave a sly smile as I grasped his arm.

"One of these days, Coop, you'll regret being so flirty with me," I said as he plunked his hat on top of my head instead of his own. I couldn't imagine it looked as good on me as it did on him.

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Because, one of these days, the woman destined to be your next wife might overhear you, think you're taken, and give up before she's even met you." We walked toward his trailer, dodging busy workers as we talked. "Or worse...I might actually think you mean those sweet little things you say to me."

Keeping my head forward as we walked, I caught him looking at me out of the corner of my eye, his expression inscrutable.

"Wouldn't that just be a shame," he muttered, but his tone contradicted his statement entirely. A large grin stretched Cooper's lips as we stepped inside his trailer. I knew the drill by now. We left the door open, and I took a seat as he ducked behind a privacy screen at the other end. His accent fell away as he changed out of his costume. "That hat's yours now, by the way."

For a moment, all I could hear was the gentle sound of cloth as I tried to force my tongue to work.

"What?"

"They had about ten of those hats for this movie, and I snagged a couple. One for me, and one for you. That one's yours," he called, and butterflies swarmed in my stomach. "Assuming you want an old actor's hand-me-down, of course. You could always just leave it in my trailer today when we go for drinks and the costume people will find it. I just remember you saying you liked the way the one from this particular movie looked, so I figured..."

He trailed off as he walked out from behind the privacy screen in a white button-down shirt and some dark brown slacks. My breath hitched in my throat, but I shook my head quietly.

"No, I do love it. I'm not leaving it here," I said as I got to my feet. "Thank you, Cooper."

Pink dusted his cheeks, and I couldn't help but wonder how I got this lucky. He didn't feel the same as I did, but it was enough that he considered me one of his close friends. Or, at least, that's what I told myself on those lonely evenings when I wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his arms.

I'd been lost in thought for a moment, snapping back to reality when he waved a hand in front of my eyes.

"You in there?" He asked, a mix of amusement and concern coloring his features as I blinked up at him. "You looked like you were a thousand miles away."

"Only about fifteen," I muttered, and before he could ask what I meant, I plastered what I hoped was an enthusiastic smile on my lips. "Well, what are we waiting for? You wanted a celebratory drink, so let's go get it, shall we?"

Cooper had known me for too long to be fooled by that. Like always, I could see his jaw clench for a second as he tucked the information away in the back of his mind for later, then smiled back at me.

"Lead on, ma'am." His faux western accent was back, and he gave me a little wink as I slipped past him out of his trailer.

--

I'd expected to find myself in a bar with him, but Coop had different plans. He'd driven me to his place - a much smaller house than the one he'd previously shared with his daughter and his ex-wife. He'd downsized after the divorce, choosing a more rustic place that was closer to nature than his cushy almost-mansion had been. Modern conveniences were still present, but he was no longer surrounded by the stifling side of city life.

Kicking our shoes off and wandering out onto the upstairs balcony, we raised our champagne flutes and toasted the success of the new movie. I tried not to watch the bob of his Adam's apple too closely as he swallowed.

Looking out at the dark expanse of the night and the bright lights of the city several hours later, we'd barely finished more than a couple of glasses each. It was so incredibly easy with him. We'd talked the whole evening away, focusing on everything and nothing, paying no mind to the fact that the world kept spinning without us.

Eventually, a cold breeze whirled through the air, and we retreated inside. Cooper grabbed an oversized blanket and we cuddled up together in his living room in front of the fireplace. Setting the hat he'd given me on the coffee table, he wrapped his arms around me and let me rest my head on his chest.

This wasn't the first time we'd curled up like this, but it felt more weighted this time. His chin touched the top of my head just as I noted how fast his heart was beating.

Adrenaline. That's all it was. We'd both been startled by how quickly the temperature had dropped. There was no way it could be anything else.

"It looks better on you," he murmured against the top of my head, and my own heart thudded faster in my chest. "The hat, I mean."

A huff of laughter escaped me.

"Somehow, I think your fans might disagree, Mr. Howard. Hell, even I disagree," I admitted as I toyed with one of the buttons on his shirt.

"That's too bad. All of you are wrong. You look so damn good in it," Cooper said as one of his hands skimmed up my back. He sounded more serious than any of his other silly little flirtatious statements ever had - a feat I hadn't thought possible. I could never tell if he was joking when we were alone like this.

"Careful, now. I might end up thinking you're serious–"

"I am," he blurted as his grip around me tightened by a fraction. "I'm serious."

When I lifted my head to look up at him, Cooper was already looking at me; his gaze was soft and vulnerable as he lifted a hand. The backs of his knuckles brushed down the side of my face so gently that the breath was stolen from my lungs.

"Cooper..." I tried to tell him what I was feeling - tried to force all of the words I'd been holding back to the tip of my tongue - but they got stuck somewhere in my throat.

"It's okay," he breathed, his voice was low and rough as he spoke. "You don't have to say anything. I know this probably isn't... I'm divorced, older, and I have a kid. I'm not under any delusions about how undesirable my situation is, but I just wanted to say it once...before I lost my nerve."

I must've fallen asleep. I was dreaming, I had to be.

"I don't expect you to feel the same. You're so beautiful, so kind...you must have men beating down your door for a chance to be with you, and you're stuck here drinking with a washed up old man," he murmured, guilt winding around every word. "When I drive you home in the morning...if it would make you more comfortable, we can forget I ever said anything...blame it on the champagne."

Alarm rocketed through me. I didn't want that. I didn't want to forget. I didn't want to blame it on the alcohol.

Dream or not, I just wanted Cooper.

Leaning upward, I took a chance and pressed my lips against his. They'd always looked soft. I never thought I'd get the chance to find out what they felt like on anything but the back of my hand.

When he kissed me back, I'd never been so glad to be wrong.

Giving in to my desires, I braced one hand on his chest and buried the other in his soft, dark hair. He grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me closer as we drowned in each other.

When we finally broke apart, Cooper nuzzled my nose drawing a breathless, joyful giggle from some dazed part of my mind.

"Stay with me tonight," he whispered, and I nodded my head.

"I did assume I would be when you stated that you'd be driving me home in the morning," I teased, and he gave me a gorgeous smile, his eyes twinkling in the low light.

"Beautiful smart-ass. I meant...stay in my room with me. Not the guest room," he murmured even as his gaze dropped to my lips again. "I promise I'll be good - keep my hands to myself."

"You don't have to." The words whispered against his lips prompted a hungry hum from his throat, but he shook his head.

"I want to wine and dine you first. You deserve that...deserve to be treated like a princess," he said, "that way, when the time comes, and I finally have you all to myself, you'll know how much you mean to me."

A desperate whimper escaped me, and he smirked like the cat that got the canary.

"Now, can you be a good, patient girl for me tonight, sweetheart?"

I agreed, muttering under my breath that he was a damn tease, but my protests were silenced by the look Cooper gave me as he led me to his bedroom. Longing looked good on him.

~*~

Taglist:

@live-logs-and-proper

[oldsoul007]

Behind the Scenes

nicholas chavez x co-star!reader

summary: nicholas and reader help each other through a hard day of filming

warning: short and sweet

Me and Nicholas had been co-stars for years, sharing the screen in a gritty drama that pushed our emotional boundaries. The show was a critical success, but the intense scenes often left us drained and haunted by the characters we portrayed. Despite our on-screen chemistry, i kept my true feelings hidden, fearing it would complicate our professional relationship.

During particularly grueling filming days, me and Nicholas found solace in each other's company. We would sneak away to a quiet corner of the set, sharing stories and laughter to distract ourselves from the heavy material we were working on. Our best friend, Cooper, often joined us, providing much-needed comic relief and support.

One evening, after a heart-wrenching scene, i found myself unable to shake off the sadness. I sat alone in my trailer, tears streaming down my face. I hear a knock at the door and Nicholas walks right through smiling but then he sees me.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispered. "We're in this together, remember?"

I leaned into him, finding comfort in his presence. "It's just so hard sometimes, Nic. I don't know how much more I can take."

Nicholas sighed, his heart aching for her. "I know. It's tough for me too. But we have each other, and we'll get through this."

Our eyes met, and for a moment, the unspoken feelings between us hung in the air. But before we could say anything, Cooper burst in, his usual cheerful self. "Hey, you two! I brought snacks. Let's take a break and watch something light-hearted."

Grateful for the distraction, we spent the evening laughing and joking, momentarily forgetting the weight of our roles. Yet, as the night drew to a close, the lingering tension between me and Nicholas remained.

Weeks passed, and the emotional toll of the show continued to wear us down. One night, after filming a particularly harrowing scene, Nicholas couldn't hold back his feelings any longer. He found y/n sitting alone on a bench outside the studio, staring at the stars.

"Y/n," he began, his voice trembling. "I can't keep pretending. I care about you more than just a co-star or a friend. "

I turned to face him. "Nic, I've felt the same way for so long. I was just too scared to say anything."

We stood there, the weight of our confessions hanging in the air. Slowly, Nicholas reached out and took my hand, pulling me into a tender embrace.

[flamingpudding]

Part 3 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

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Feral brother of mine

When Damien first saw the video from Todd's helmet he only thought of his older brother as an imbecile that apparently couldn't handle children that was until Drake paused the video on the child's face before the video cut off.

Then Richard pointed out the similarities to Damien and of course his first thought was that his mother had made another clone again that they would need to dispose of. That was until he took a closer look at the image when Drake zoomed in. It was still blurry but Damien would recognise that face anywhere and in any state.

Despite his memory being faded it was the face of someone he never wanted to forget and would let freely hunt his dreams. Even if it was to recall the good times or even the bad times through nightmares. Freckles that mirrored constellations and scar by the ear from a training session when the others' dodging ability had not yet been up to par when they were five. Hair longer than his own and less tameable.

Danyal Al Ghul.

His twin that he killed at the age of eight when their grandfather forced them into a fight to death. This was not a simple clone of Damien himself and the teen was pretty sure that his mother must have lost it. Because what else then a clone of his own brother could this be, she probably must have preserved some of Danyal's DNA if not his entire body for this. He must also applaud her cruelty, for the clone was at the exact age his brother had died at.

He does not know why nor how his mother had managed to cause glowing Lazarus green eyes. None of his clones had ever shown these before but a part of him didn't want to know. It already made him sick enough to know that his mother would go so far as to clone Danyal.

All he wanted was to get rid of this cruel clone that wore his long dead brother's face. The knowledge of his brother was something Damien held dear. It was something that belonged to him only and the burden of his death was not something he ever wanted to share either. Besides what use would it be to his family to mourn a member they never would have gotten to meet.

Even as he glared at Todd, who had let loose the feral clone. He could not bring himself to tell them that this was most likely not just a simple clone of himself.

"Come on guys, there is a child running around the Bat Cave. You can fight later about how to safely keep the boy in check."

Clicking his tongue he turned away from his older siblings and drew out his katana. "<tt> I will get rid of that thing myself."

A thing, that was what it was. Damien didn't need his personal feelings or his memories of a twin that could smile brighter than the desert sun despite their pain, get in the way of his rationality. He could not allow this mockery of his twin brother to live on.

He went for the darker areas of the Cave knowing the league trained mind and he was in luck as he was the first to find the feral child hidden away in the area that lead to the medbay. By now the thing was even armed. Damien recognised the dagger as one of his training once, he probably had accidentally left it out of its casing after training right before patrol.

The ex-league prodigy did not give the clone time to react as he attacked without warning. Chasing it through the Bat Cave as it avoided his attacks yet made no move to attack him the way it had Todd. At times the way it dodged made Damien stutter slightly something that never happened before. He slashed at it, ignoring his siblings that shouted for him to stop from the side lines. Ignoring the flashes in his mind of a fight years ago that was similar yet so different.

"I will not let this mockery run free." He muttered pointing his blade as it hissed at him in return. What a feral thing it was, he waited for it to make the first move this time. Clones were not perfect, their forms were lacking, They might retain skills of their original but they rarely were the same let alone cable of thinking outside of what their creator, his mother wanted. He pointedly ignored anything he new about certain clones. They weren't created by his mother, therefore did not count in regards to his conclusion. Yet it was painful seeing this mockery of his dead brother appearing like a perfect copy.

The stance it held with the dagger, despite the feral hissing and movements, it was the exact same his brother had. Sword stances, like martial arts stances had a basic form, every wielder learned and then developed further into their own unique one with time. Danyal had one where he tended to hold the dagger or even swords backwards in his left hand while his right arm covered his empty side with a slight tilt to the back, always ready to reach for any weapon he would carry in hidden pockets on his back.

It was painful to see this clone, this thing mimicking his brother's stand this perfectly. Damien could only narrow his eyes in determination, or was it desperation by now? This was just one more reason to get rid of it. It just hurt even more when with a quick gaze towards the hand that held the dagger Damien also noticed a bad habit his brother had always retained and the league had also never been able to train out of him. It was a small habit, unnoticeable if you wouldn't look for it, yet dangerous to the sword / dagger wielder if they were inexperienced.

Danyal tended to let his thumb rest against the guard if the blade had one or against the blade itself even if it didn't have one. He knows that his twin used to have scaring on his thumb from this habit, especially from their early training years.

This thing was even imitating his brother's habit.

He wanted it gone. Rip it apart and present it to his mother with all the anger and grief it brought to him.

"Guys stop Damien now! That is not a clone!" He heard Drake yell from where the Batcomputer was but he didn't care. This was a clone, so he lunged at the it again. Ignoring how the clone had studied him like he had it. Ignoring how its stance had changed the longer they had watched each other and how that thing let its guard down all of a sudden.

"Damien! Stop!"

It dropped all defenses and Damien could only see that as his chance to deal the final blow to get rid of it. But what he didn't expect despite the dropped defenses was for the clone to also just drop the dagger, close its eyes and smile. The same smile that still hunted his nightmares. His mind flashed back to eight years ago.

"Demon brat! Calm the fuck down!"

The blade stopped inches from the same fatal placement that had killed his brother before. Drake and Richard were right behind him while Todd was by the clone's side gripping at the blade with his bare hands, most likely bleeding already.

"Why?" Damien uttered quietly, his eyes trained on the thing. Richard must have thought that his question had been directed towards them stopping him but that wasn't the case.

"Look Dami, how about listening to what Tim found out first before we decide what to do with that child?"

"Not you." He couldn't help but snap back at them as he withdrew his katana, hearing Todd mutter something about sharp blades and bandaids as well as several curses under his breath. His eyes stayed on the thing. "Why would you let me kill you? Why drop your defence ces? Why not dodge?"

The thing titled its head its glowing green eyes were trained on Damien and he noticed how they flickered into a blue that was so familiar yet so different with the way they glowed. It made chirping noises before it whispered something.

"ahbak, Dami"

Damien froze for a moment there at the quiet words the thing had whispered. How was he supposed to react now? Was this even a clone, no he knew this was a clone. There was no way Danyal was alive let alone still eight years old. He had killed his own brother, he had held him in his own arms as Danyal took his final breath, smiling at him and uttering the same words he had just heard again after so many years.

Even if Danyal had survived somehow then he should be the same age as him. Not the age he had died at. Besides, their grandfather would have never allowed them to use the pits to revive his twin.

"FUCK!"

Intentionally or not Todd's outcry had ripped him out of his thoughts by a rather pathetic yowl of pain. It was like a switch had been flipped in the clone's mind as his brother had reached out to probably detain it again. The moment Todd had touched him, the thing had bitten into his hand before letting go, hissing and running away from them once more.

But instead of running after that thing Damien stood frozen in place, his mind still racing. He could feel Richard's hands on his shoulders, grounding the teenager with the warmth they provided. "You okay there Baby Bird? You seem rather out of it suddenly."

"<tt> I am fine." His only offered answer, ignoring the worried looks he was getting as he moved to wipe Todd's blood off his blade. He needed a distraction before his mind became any more chaotic and unreasonable. "What did Drake find out?"

"Right… you sure you want to hear that right now?" Giving Richard an unimpressed stare, the oldest sighed looking over towards Drake.

"Well I got good news and probably bad news." Side eyeing his brother Damien kept silent waiting for him to continue.

"I can safely say that the child is not a clone. His DNA does not 100% match yours. It differs too much but - and this is where it's probably bad news - it matches with you to 45%, with a matching to Bruce to about 50%, same with Talia. If I run a paternity test I am sure it would be a hit for Bruce and Talia."

Damien swallowed taking in that information, knowing what it meant. Was he horrified? Yes. Did it also awaken a strange sort of hope? Also, Yes.

"But there was a third compartment of the child's DNA structure which was impossible to test. It could even corrupt DNA samples if not taken apart from the rest. It probably has something to do with the green specs I found in his blood too. So I ran a substance analysis and - you probably won't like this - but it got a hit from a substance we have recorded in our database."

"What substance?" Damien knew, he just knew he wouldn't like the next words Drake would say. He could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder as if to help him keep stable.

"Lazarus Water. It matched with what we have recorded from the Lazarus Pits."

"Drake, are you telling me that after eight years, my mother who apparently had preserved my dead twin brother's body, dropped said body into the Lazarus Pits to revive him and then drop him off with Todd of all people?"

"Yes, wait… dead twin brother's body?"

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

friends

summary: *yn* and damon are friends. good friends. just friends. nothing more, nothing less. until elena's eighteenth birthday party and the captain of the waterpolo team comes along, leaving damon wondering how much he really likes that term.

warnings: swearing, drinking, fluff, vampire stuff, cheating (kinda??)

"What do you think?"

"Give me a spin."

*yn* resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she complied, shuffling her body around in a circle.

"Oooh I really like this one." Caroline observed. She shifted on the small couch placed into the middle of the boutique as she took a few moments to run her eyes over *yn*'s body.

"I think this might be the one."

This time *yn* couldn't restrain herself as she threw her hands up in frustration and huffed.

"Care, you've said that about all of them."

"I'm sorry, it's not my fault you look good in everything!"

*yn* groaned in response as she shoved the curtain across the metal rod, concealing herself from Caroline once more.

"I give up." She exclaimed dramatically as she pulled the red dress over her head. "I'm just going to go with the blue one."

"If that's what it takes for you to stop whining." She heard Caroline mumble on the other side of the curtain.

"I heard that!"

The shrill ringtone of Caroline's phone rung out through the store.

"Oh sorry Elena's calling, be right back."

*yn* shook her head as she heard Caroline answer the phone and hurry out of the store. She slipped the blue dress back on over her head just as her shoulder bag began to vibrate.

She couldn't fight the small smile threatening to tug on her lips at the Caller ID.

"Well if it isn't my second favourite Salvatore brother."

"Ouch, why is it that you're always so mean to me?" Damon's amused voice slipped out through the speaker.

"Because being nice is boring." She answered as she slipped out of the change room.

"Using my own logic against me, I've taught you too well." She smiled at his words as she made her way over to the mirror.

"What are you up to? Down for a little road trip?"

"Can't sorry. Helping Caroline plan Elena's birthday party." *yn* twisted around in front of the mirror, scrutinising the dress from every angle.

"Ah yes the big eighteenth how could I forget."

"Why? Where are you going?" *yn* asked as she finally drew her attention away from the mirror.

"Tennessee."

Her brow furrowed at her answer. "Another potential Stefan victim?"

"Yep. The sheriff gave Elena another location."

"She's not going with-"

"No way. Told her I'd take it on myself."

There was a pause as *yn* glanced out the shop window to make sure Caroline was still out the front on the phone, her ears occupied and unable to listen in.

"They're going to be like the other victims, aren't they?"

"Probably."

She felt herself grow nauseous at the thought of what Damon would no doubt find in Tennessee. Even his verbal reports back to her had been enough to make her skin crawl. If there had been any doubts before if Stefan was a ripper, they were long gone by now.

"Are we ever going to tell her?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. She heard Damon let out a sigh.

"If I find him and sort him out we won't ever have to."

"Alright just- just let me know how you go ok?" Despite her best efforts she couldn't hide the concern laced through her words.

"Always do. See you at the party."

"See you at the party."

"Oh *yln*-"

Damon's voice crackled through the speaker just as her finger hovered over the button to end the call.

"Yeah?" She pressed the phone to her ear once more.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Wear the red one." *yn* swore she could practically hear his smirk through the phone before he hung up.

*yn* whirled around, the phone still pressed to her ear. Her eyes darted around the store and then out through the windows that revealed the main street of Mystic Falls.

Her heart was thumping in her chest and a blush was creeping up onto her cheeks. Damon was no where to be seen.

"Ugh god Elena is still complaining about this party, I swear it's like no one wants to have fun in this town anymore- are you ok?"

*yn* turned to see Caroline staring at her, brow raised when she noticed her flushed complexion.

"Uh- yeah fine." *yn* lied, swallowing as she turned to go back into the change room.

"Ok..." Caroline studied her before turning her attention back to her phone.

She glanced up once more after a few moments to see *yn* emerging from the change room, back in her jeans and tank top. Her brow furrowed.

"I thought you were getting the blue one?"

"Yeah I um-"

*yn* glanced down at the red material clutched in her arms.

"I changed my mind."

The bass felt like it was pounding against her skull. Sweaty bodies were brushing against her on all sides. She could already feel the back of her knees start to slick with sweat as she weaved through the crowd.

Apparently this was Caroline's definition of a 'small' party. Bodies occupied every square inch of the Salvatore boarding house. Her eyes slid over the hundred or so faces. Some she recognised from school. Others she had never seen before in her life.

She smoothed down the front of her short dress as she stepped around a couple making out at the bottom of the staircase. She could feel multiple sets of eyes on her as she moved deeper into the house. The waterpolo team bunched in the corner didn't even make an attempt to look away as she walked past.

She smirked to herself. She'd shown up with the intention of looking hot, so far it seemed to be going according to plan. She surveyed the crowd once more. A flash of blonde hair caught her eye, which she instantly made a beeline for.

"Care!"

Caroline swung around at *yn*'s voice, a grin spreading across her lips as she looked her up and down.

"Oh my freaking god you look so hot." She squealed as she lurched forward and wrapped her arms her shoulders.

*yn* laughed and squeezed her tightly back. "So do you."

"Who the hell are these people?"

"Friends of friends." Caroline shrugged. *yn* raised a brow at her before turning to survey the room. Her eyes involuntarily searching for one person in particular.

"C'mon, I need a shot." Caroline announced as she grabbed *yn*'s hand and tugged her towards the drinks table.

*yn* grinned as she let Caroline lead her through the crowd.

"Is everyone here?" *yn* shouted over the thumping bass.

"I think so." Caroline shouted back, her eyes gleaming as she spotted a bottle of tequila.

*yn* turned around, her eyes scanning the crowd once more.

"Oh actually I haven't seen that reporter girl yet, what's her name - Andrea or-"

"What?" *yn*'s neck snapped back around to look at Caroline.

"Andie's coming?"

Caroline paused and glanced up at her. She had just been about to pour the clear liquid into a shot glass.

"Yeah, Damon insisted on inviting her. Poor girl probably didn't have a choice knowing him." Caroline remarked as she turned her attention back to the bottle in her hand.

"Right." *yn* swallowed. She pressed her lips into a hard line. "Yeah."

She felt sick as she glanced down at the tight red dress covering her body. She suddenly felt incredibly stupid. That for even a moment she had let herself divulge in suppressed fantasies, that she'd let herself get hopeful that something might happen with the vampire that was supposed to be nothing more than one of her good friends.

That she had let herself indulge those feelings that she had always worked so hard to deny and ignore.

"Ok here-" Caroline cut herself off, the shot in her hand for *yn* to take suspended in midair.

She studied her friend for a moment. She withheld a sigh when she saw the tears threatening to pool in *yn*'s eyes.

"Ok no." She announced, slamming the shots back onto the table. The sound made *yn* jump, her eyes focusing back on her friend.

"We are so not doing this tonight."

"Wha-"

"You are not letting your night get ruined by Damon Salvatore of all people."

"Care-" *yn* began, glancing over her shoulder quickly to make sure Damon wasn't in sight before turning back to her. "He's my friend."

"Oh please." Caroline scoffed as she folded her arms in front of her chest. "You don't think I can tell when my best friend is crushing on a guy?"

*yn* felt her cheeks redden.

"Although I've been trying to ignore it given it is Damon-"

She ignored the glare *yn* gave her. "- and I've been hoping it was just a little phase, but clearly that was wishful thinking." She sighed as she gestured to *yn* who had opened her mouth to respond.

"I've known for months, so don't even try and deny it."

*yn* clamped her mouth shut. She felt her resolve weaken under Caroline's stare.

"If you tell a soul-"

"-you'll stake me I know. Your secret's safe with me." Caroline insisted.

With that *yn* felt her shoulders slump in defeat as her barriers finally crumbled down.

"I like him. A lot." She admitted.

"I think I always knew there was something there, but I don't think I realised how much until-" She cut herself off and bit her lip as she felt her eyes begin to water.

Caroline's hard gaze softened at the sight. "Hey, it's ok." Caroline comforted her, running a hand down her arm. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk about it?"

"No." *yn* shook her head as she sniffed. "No, like you said. I don't want this to ruin my night. It's been so long since we've actually had fun."

It was true. Before Damon and Stefan returned to Mystic Falls, *yn* was the life of the party, drinking almost every weekend and staying out way past curfew - much to her parents chagrin. But now, she could barely even remember what it felt like to be drunk and let loose.

Her answer made Caroline's eyes brighten. "Exactly, and you look way too hot right now to be crying over a guy."

*yn* followed Caroline's gaze to look around the room of warm bodies. Her eyes flitted over a few guys, her confidence sparking once more when she saw their eyes were already on her.

"You could have literally anyone you want in here."

She could have anyone she wanted, except for Damon. Almost as if she could read her mind, Caroline grabbed her hand.

"Ok, in my opinion you have two options right now." Caroline continued.

"You can go and tell Damon how you feel and let it out, or-" She paused as she raised the cup up to *yn*'s face. "You can get trashed with me and forget all about stupid boys."

*yn* raised a brow, not missing the hint of bitterness in Caroline's voice. It sounded a little bit too personal to just be about Damon. She decided to let it go however, as her eyes flickered down to the red solo cup and then back at Caroline.

"Make it a double."

Caroline's grin widened, "now you're sounding like my best friend."

*yn* watched as she eagerly poured extra into her cup, internally wincing at how free handed she was being with the liquor.

"To being hot and getting drunk." Caroline toasted once she'd handed *yn* her drink.

"To being hot and getting drunk." *yn* echoed, clinking their cups together before pressing it to her lips. She winced as the liquor burned her throat. She definitely had not missed that feeling.

"Ugh, speak of the devil."

*yn* followed Caroline's gaze behind her shoulder. She twisted around to see Elena and Damon making their way down the stairs.

Damon was dressed in black jeans and a blue button down with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He looked annoyingly hot, as usual.

The pair hadn't spotted them yet as Caroline and *yn* made their way through the crowd towards them.

"Happy birthday!" Her and Caroline chorused as they reached them.

"You look amazing." *yn* grinned as she pulled her other best friend in for a tight hug.

"Thank you, so do you. The red is hot." Elena chuckled as they pulled away from each other.

*yn* could feel Damon's eyes on her but kept her focus on Elena.

"You like?" Caroline asked her, gesturing to the party around them.

"I-" Elena cut herself off as she glanced around the room. "This is keeping it small?"

Caroline didn't answer her, instead shooting her an innocent smile.

Elena couldn't fight the grin spreading across her lips as she let out a dramatic and defeated huff, "what are we drinking?"

Caroline giggled and gripped Elena's arm and tugged her towards the drinks table.

*yn* watched them go, feeling Damon's eyes still on her. Caroline's words echoed in her head. She was right. Just because she had feelings doesn't mean she had to act weird or let it get to her. He was still her friend, first and foremost. There was no reason to change how she was around him.

She took a breath and made sure her face was the perfect picture of normalcy before turning around to meet his gaze.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." He answered, his eyes dragging down her front before flicking up to her face.

"Nice dress."

"Thanks, I had help picking it out."

A smirk twitched up onto his lips. "Well, they've got excellent taste. They're a good friend."

Friend. The word stung more than it usually did.

She forced a smile onto her lips, "that they are."

"*yn*! Get over here we're doing birthday shots!" Elena called out to her.

*yn* glanced over her shoulder and nodded before looking back up at Damon.

"Sorry, duty calls." She shrugged innocently.

"Please." He gestured for her to go. It was then that she noticed the bottle of bourbon in his hand. "Don't let me stop you."

She shot him one last grin before making her way towards Elena and Caroline.

Damon's eyes followed her the whole way there.

"I am every parents worst nightmare." Alaric sighed. "I am the chaperone teacher from hell."

"I love high school parties." Damon grinned as he jumped up onto the ledge.

"Isn't Andie supposed to be coming?"

"10 o'clock broadcast, she'll be here in a little bit."

"Uh huh." Ric remarked as he took a deep drink. Damon's brow furrowed as he glanced up from his glass.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What is what supposed to mean?"

"That little face you just made. Something wrong with Andie?"

"With your fake compelled girlfriend? No not at all." Ric drawled sarcastically.

"Hey it's a complicated dynamic ok."

"Or it's a distraction."

Damon's eyes narrowed even further. "Distraction from what exactly Ric?"

"Hey Mr Saltzman!" A loud voice prevented Ric from answering.

They both glanced up to see a tall, muscular guy approaching them through the door that led into the party. He was wearing a Mystic Falls High varsity jacket.

Damon frowned when he saw a flash of red behind him. He froze mid sip when he saw that flash of red belonged to *yn*'s dress.

"Jake." Alaric nodded in greeting.

Jake came to a stand still in front of them, a wide grin on his face. "*yn* told me you were chaperoning."

Then all eyes were on *yn*, who was now standing beside him. Jake's arm wrapped around her shoulders to pull her against him.

Damon felt something twist inside him.

"Had to see it for myself."

"Here I am." Alaric chuckled awkwardly.

"See I told you!" She giggled as she swayed against him. Her eyes were glassy and cheeks were flushed. A bottle in her hand.

"Badass Mr Saltzman." Jake complimented. It was then that his eyes landed on Damon. Confusion flashed across his features as he tried to place him.

"Oh Jake this is my friend." *yn* introduced, "Damon Salvatore."

Friend. It was what he was to her, the correct title to describe their relationship. But tonight, in front of this guy, it prodded something inside him. Unfurling inside him like a wasp injecting its barbed stinger into his veins.

"Salvatore... oh shit so you own this place?" Jake's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Home sweet home." Damon remarked, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice as he took a deep sip of his bourbon.

"It's dope. Sickest party location for sure." Jake complimented.

"Oi Masters!"

The group turned around to see another boy standing at the precipice of the home. "We're about to start another round, get your ass in here!"

"Beer pong." Jake explained to the group. "I'm the reigning champion." He boasted proudly. Damon rolled his eyes when Jake glanced down at *yn* for a reaction who giggled and patted his chest.

"I didn't realise we were in the presence of such a high performance athlete." He remarked earning a snort from Ric.

The liquor swishing around in Jake's stomach seemed to hinder his ability to pick up on Damon's sarcasm as he looked up and shot him another grin.

"Alright, it was nice meeting you Damon. See you in school Mr Saltzman."

Ric tilted his head in acknowledgement and Damon simply shot him a tight lipped smile.

"See you guys later." *yn* waved before bursting into a fit of giggles as Jake eagerly pulled her back inside.

Damon glanced down. His grip on his glass tightened. Jake's hand was entwined with hers.

Ric glanced between the disappearing couple and Damon.

"Careful buddy, you might break that glass."

"I hate high school jocks." Was all Damon responded with as he drained his drink and immediately reached for the bottle.

"What's his deal anyway?"

"Who? Jake Masters?" Alaric queried. He let out a scoff when Damon inclined his head.

"Uh I don't know, he's the captain of the waterpolo team. Not the greatest at history, thinks he's gods gift to women, the usual." Alaric shrugged.

Damon hummed in response. He swirled his drink in his hand absentmindedly as his eyes fixed on the doorway that *yn* and Jake had disappeared through.

"What time is Andie getting here again?" Ric asked him.

"Damon." Ric repeated after a few moments.

"What?"

Ric tried to hide his amused smirk as he studied his friend. "I said what time is Andie getting here again?"

"Oh uh-" Damon's eyes shifted back to the doorway. "11 or something." He spoke dismissively.

Almost as if they had a mind of his own, his legs pulled him up onto his feet. Unable to fight the pull to head inside anymore, he slammed his glass down. "I'm just going to go grab another drink."

Ric raised a brow and glanced at the nearly full bottle of bourbon placed between them. He smirked in amusement.

"You do that buddy."

"Oops sorry!"

Damon glared as another drunk teenager fumbled into him. He pressed the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back. His brow furrowed when the taste of bourbon didn't reach his tastebuds.

He glanced down and cursed under his breath when he saw it was empty. He tossed it to the ground before promptly plucking another bottle out of the hands of a girl passing him who looked like she was about to puke.

"No no, trust me you don't want this." He stared into her eyes, "you want to go outside and puke your guts out on the grass, not on my expensive leather couch."

He rolled his eyes as she nodded numbly and walked past him. He pressed his body against the wooden support beam, his eyes drifting over the unfamiliar faces.

"If you're looking for *yn*, I last saw her in the stoner den."

He glanced to his left to see Elena standing beside him.

"I wasn't. But thanks for the update." He answered as he pressed the new bottle to his lips.

Elena didn't need to know that he'd spent the last twenty minutes trying to find her and had now given up and decided to sulk in the corner.

"Whatever you say."

His eyes narrowed as he glared down at her. She met his gaze with an innocent smile. He resisted the urge to ask her what she meant by that, because a part of him knew exactly what she was hinting at - which had been exactly what Ric had been hinting at - and that was a conversation he wasn't exactly ready to face.

"Have fun sulking." She patted his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. He watched her go as he took another gulp. What had started out as a fun night was quickly becoming a chore.

He stiffened when his ears detected a laugh that he knew like the back of his hand. Sure enough, it wasn't long until his eyes fell on *yn*.

He clenched his jaw when he saw that she was following after Jake Masters. He was still holding her hand, and was now leading her towards the centre of the room where a dance floor had formed.

Jake turned to *yn* and leant down, whispering in her ear as he encircled his arms around her waist. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck as the two began to move to the heavy bass.

As Jake moved, a vein in his neck pulsed out. Damon felt the veins stir under his eyes. All he needed was to sink his teeth into that vein and he could rip his head clean-

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you it's rude to stare?"

Damon ripped his eyes away from the couple, turning his steely gaze to Caroline.

"What do you want blondie." He muttered as he turned his attention back to the dance floor.

"Nothing. Just here to remind you that you are in front of hundreds of people so now is not really the time to get your dracula on."

He rolled his eyes, "I'm fine."

"Really? Because to me it looks like you're about to go rip Jake Masters head off."

Damon's gums ached at he mention of his name.

"Don't you have other things to be worried about blondie?" He sneered.

"Not really."

"Not even your little wolf boy getting it on with a leggier version of you over there?"

Caroline followed his gaze to see Tyler and none other than slutty Sophie of all people grinding on each other in the middle of the room. Caroline ground her teeth and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Doesn't bother me." Her voice raised an octave.

"You sure about that? I think that bottle is suffocating." Caroline glanced down and huffed as she loosened the grip on the wine bottle.

"This isn't about me." Caroline hissed as she turned to face him.

"This is about you admitting that seeing Jake and *yn* together is driving you crazy."

"Why would it?"

"Uh gee Damon, I don't know let me think, maybe because you have feelings for her?"

Her words were like a slap in the face. It was the first time anyone had said it out loud. Had dared to voice what they had all been thinking. All of a sudden it felt very real. Very much a possibility that Damon did indeed have feelings for his friend. He felt like the room was closing in on him.

Damon shook his head and forced a chuckle out past his lips, "sorry blondie, but you don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" She raised her brow, "so that doesn't bother you in the slightest?"

He turned his head and his eyes found *yn*'s figure instantly. His jaw clenched and he pursed his lips.

She had turned around to press her back against Jake's. His hands were roaming her side, brushing the red fabric higher up her thighs. He was placing kisses along her neck and muttering into her ear which was making her giggle.

That single wasp inside him had now spawned into a hive, stinging him from the inside out. Right then and there, he could have ripped the heads off every single person in this room. Tear them limb from limb. Anything to get rid of this sick feeling in his stomach.

A feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, perhaps ever.

A feeling you most definitely did not have towards a friend.

"Oh is that Jake Masters with *yn*?" Elena had reappeared beside him.

"Good for her, he's so hot-"

Damon didn't hear anything else after that, because in that moment Jake had leant in and whispered into her ear once more.

"What do you say we go find somewhere quieter to talk?"

His pulse was ringing in his ears, Jake's smarmy voice slithering around in his head. His legs had moved before he had even decided to. Making a beeline for *yn*.

He had no idea what his plan was. All he knew was that if he didn't get her away from his guy, he was going to murder someone. Jealousy had never agreed with him. It made him even uglier than usual.

"I need to talk to you."

*yn* twisted around in Jake's arms, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Damon standing in front of her.

"I'm a little busy."

Damon glared at Jake behind her before his eyes flickered down to her.

"It's important."

"I'm sure it can wait." She shot back.

Jake glanced between them, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand what was going on.

"Jake-" Damon began as he locked eyes with the teenager. "Why don't you go do us proud and win another beer pong championship." He cocked his head and grinned, "and don't come back."

Jake's eyes clouded over momentarily, before he blinked and his eyes focused on *yn*.

"Will do!" Jake grinned.

"Damon!" *yn* protested. It was futile as Jake's hands slipped from around her waist. They watched as he marched towards the kitchen with a determined pace.

"What the hell." She growled as she glared up at him. "I was having fun."

"Of course you were, who wouldn't be with the reigning beer pong champion of Mystic Falls." Damon drawled as he gripped her elbow and dragged her through the crowd.

"I wasn't planning on marrying the guy." She snapped back as he led her up the stairs. "He's hot, it's a party. You do the math."

He gritted his teeth at her answer as he guided her into his bedroom.

"You're drunk."

She huffed as she stormed into the centre of the room.

He shut the door. The noise from the party underneath them was immediately dampened. Now only a dull roar, background noise that occasionally seeped in through the floorboards.

"I don't want you making a decision you'll regret tomorrow."

She inhaled sharply before swivelling around to face him. Her fists clenched at her sides.

"That's not your decision to make."

"You're right. It's not." He nodded as he stalked towards her, "but I'm the one who's going to have to pick up the pieces if you get hurt."

She let out a bark of laughter. "Get hurt? I was dancing with him not running off to get eloped."

"Well we all know where it was heading."

Her eyes narrowed at his response.

"Last time I checked you're my friend, not my parent."

Friend. There it was again. That one little noun that was causing so much heartache. So much turmoil inside him.

*yn* knew she should leave it at that. But anger and liquor never mixed well inside her. And she was hurt and confused. All she had wanted to do was distract herself from him and her feelings, yet now it seemed like she couldn't escape him.

Now she felt like she was going crazy because if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn he was jealous.

"Don't you have anything better to do? Isn't your girlfriend supposed to be here?"

Damon didn't miss the way her lips almost curled into a sneer as they formed the word.

"She's working late."

His answer made her stomach drop. Of course they were still together. How stupid could she be to even let herself think for one moment that they might have broken up, that he might-

"Right." She nodded. "Well, I appreciate the whole friend intervention thing or whatever this is." She gestured to him as she took a few steps forward. "But I'm going back to the party."

She had made it all the way past him when she felt his hand curl around her forearm, rooting her in place.

"You seem to be really enjoying using the word 'friend' tonight."

Silence fell over the pair. Her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled shakily. She opened her eyes once more and stared at the closed door. She could feel Damon's eyes burning holes in the back of her head.

His hand was yet to leave her bare arm.

"Well that's what you are."

She remembered Caroline's words as she tried to control her nerves. She exhaled as she tried to calm her beating heart as she turned to face him.

"Right?"

She kept her gaze defiant and determined as they locked eyes. He searched her eyes, seemingly looking for something in particular.

"I don't know." He began as he took a step toward her.

His ring band was burning into her skin. Her heart hammered.

"Do friends get the urge to rip the heads off arrogant jocks who touch their other friends?"

*yn* swallowed as she held his gaze. Her mind was going at a million miles an hour. She could barely process what was happening.

"Do friends feel physically ill when they hear the word friend being used to describe their relationship?"

Another step forward. His piercing green eyes flickered down to her lips and then back to her eyes.

"Damon-"

She cut herself off as Damon's hand cradled the side of her face. His teeth captured his bottom lip as his eyes once again fell to her mouth. The pad of his thumb glided over her bottom lip.

"I don't think I want to be your friend anymore *yn*." He murmured, his voice causing goosebumps to rise on the back of her neck.

"In fact, I don't think I've hated the word as much as I do right now." He whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

The alcohol running through her veins was clouding her reasoning, not even giving her a chance to think about Andie or Jake, or what the implications of this in the morning would be.

But in that moment, she didn't care. All she could think about was the smell of his cologne invading her senses and the feeling of his fingers running along her hot skin. About how desperate she was to have his mouth on hers.

All it took was the slightest tilt of *yn*'s chin to connect their lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as he finally let go of her arm to bring his other hand up to her cheek, cupping her face in his hands.

Their lips moved in sync as she pressed herself against him, nearly letting out a moan at the feeling. Her hands threaded themselves through his hair as he moved one hand to ensnare her waist. His hand travelled down just as she-

"They're kissing!" The muffled voice on the other side of the door made them pull apart in surprise. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Caroline?" *yn* asked as Damon ran a hand over her lower back. Damon nodded.

"And Elena."

*yn* let out a breathy laugh as she turned back to look up at him.

"Moment ruined?" He asked, a rare smile spreading across his lips as he studied her.

"Kinda." She grinned back as she leant up to capture his lips in another kiss.

They pulled apart after a few moments, pressing their foreheads together as they caught their breaths.

"I have to say *yln*." Damon murmured, a smirk twisting up onto his lips.

"I love not being your friend."

I love this fic, it's been so long since I've just done a stand alone fic!!! As always, feedback is always appreciated. Please give it back here x

[intheupside]

who would survive on a deserted island (dkpitt)

Bryan Rust: I feel like Harkins probably could. He seems like a guy who would be climbing trees and cutting them down with his bare hands, maybe even chewing them down. I think he would do well.

Reilly Smith: I wouldn't say any of us! No, you know what? Harks. Harks could survive. He can probably find weird things to eat. He'd be sufficient at just getting by.

Jansen Harkins: Ned. He just seems resourceful, and I feel like he could just chill. I don't think he needs too much.

Alex Nedeljkovic: Jars. He seems like an outdoorsy guy. Survivalist? I don't know if that's a real word.

P.O Joseph. Not Ned! I'm going to say Gravy. He's from the Maritimes, I feel like they know a little about the outdoors is my guess. On a serious note, I think Ned would definitely be someone that would be good at it, just his capacity of adjusting in places. He would be good at it.

Lars Eller: Sid. He seems to be going different ways about things, about a lot of things. He doesn't rely too much on new technology, let's just say that.

Jake Guentzel: Sid. He's just an outdoorsman, that's kind of his vibe. I'm sure he could find something to live off of.

Chad Ruhwedel: Sid or Carts, or myself. They seem like they could handle themselves in a tough situation. I think I would do OK.

Kris Letang: Sid, he lives in the middle of the woods.

Erik Karlsson: Sid. I just feel like he would be very creative and would probably figure out a way to sustain himself for as long as he needed.

Valtteri Puustinen: I would say Kopi (Joona Koppanen). He's the smartest guy, I think. He knows what he's doing. I think if I went with myself? I'm dying. But he's a smart guy.

Joona Koppanen: I'll take Carts. He has the wisdom and the dad strength.

Colin White: John Ludvig. I feel like he's pretty handy, he'd like the outdoors like that.

Drew O'Connor: Luds, probably. He seems like he would. Look at him! He seems like an animal, don't you think?

John Ludvig: I'm going to say Cookie (Noel Acciari). Cookie's a burly man, he can handle himself. I'm pretty sure he'd find a way to survive wherever he was. I'll go with him.

Noel Acciari: Rudy (Chad Ruhwedel). He has a military background with his dad, he just seems handy.

Marcus Pettersson: Rudy. I think he's pretty handy, he could make something out of nothing, make himself a good shelter. That's big, I think he could build a shelter. Raks is a good fisherman, but the problem is he's alone on that island. He doesn't touch the fish, he hates touching the fish. He doesn't do it. So it'd be a problem, he'd need somebody with him.

Jonathan Gruden: I feel like Petey (Marcus Pettersson) would be good, just being around him for a little bit. He's pretty good, he could work his way around it and survive. Not OC. But P.O could maybe survive too. (Me: Half the team picked P.O for who couldn't survive.) I've got P.O's back! Maybe he's fooling me.

Magnus Hellberg: Can I pick myself? I'm really big into the outdoors and hiking, hunting, fishing. I think I've watched every season of Alone and all those survival shows. I like to be out in nature. When I think about all the guys, I feel like I'm the most nerdy with that stuff, spend a lot of time on the water. I would say myself, but in a humble way.

Rickard Rakell: I think Sid would do pretty well. I feel like he lives out in nowhere over the summer.

Sidney Crosby: I think I'd say Ricky (Rakell). He's pretty chill, I think he's got some survival instincts. He's got the tools.

Ryan Graves: Maybe Jars, I feel like he's outdoorsy.

Jesse Puljujarvi: Maybe Jarry. I heard he stays on a farm? So that's why.

Tristan Jarry: Tanger. He'd find someone to come pick him up.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

How Dominoes Fall

Couldn't help myself and drew the angstier version of my Domino Twins art that now has 100 notes (surprisingly, ilyasm 🩷) and may not have properly tagged my self-reblog asking if anyone was interested upon reflection. (Oops, my bad sorry.)

Still getting the hang of active participation in fandom spaces and building up a following of any kind after being just a lurker too nervous to share anything for so, so long.

Appreciate the traffic I'm getting thus far and ask that you're patient with me as I find my stride and my style!

Random side note; trying to go for a fresh, glowing, blaster wound look in watercolor was a fun (/s) little challenge, don't think I'm doing that again soon.

[john-get-the-salt]

Third Times A Charm (w/tyrion lannister)

Imagine: Two times Tyrion realized he was falling in love with you, and then the third time when he finally did something about it.

Contains: cute Tyrion moments, use of she/her pronouns, fem!reader, Bronn totally shipping his two besties, brief mentions of rated R activities but no actual acts, some lyrics from High Enough by K.Flay because i think they fit the way Tyrion would love so well

Warnings: none

Tyrion wasn't sure exactly when he began falling in love with you. There were plenty of instances that he longed for you, but he couldn't be sure when that feeling began.

Could it have begun that night you drank too much ale and accidentally shared some of your deepest secrets?

-

Tyrion and Bronn were hiding away from the world and drinking together, as they did any other night, when a knock at the door to Tyrion's chambers interrupted them.

"Yeeeees?" Tyrion called out. The door to his chambers creaked open and a familiar face popped in.

"I was walking past and couldn't help but overhear the two of you. Are you having fun without me?"

The men grinned at you.

As the daughter of a distant lord you'd been sent on your families behalf to King's Landing a few weeks ago to mend your people's relationship with the iron throne and according to your father, find a wealthy husband. Despite Tyrion's reputation you'd inexplicably befriended the man and his guard. Before long they were the few people in King's Landing that you trusted fully and vice versa.

"My lady!" Tyrion cheered.

You closed the door and plopped down at the table across from the two.

"Come on you two, share the goods."

They obeyed, opening a bottle and pouring out another glass of precious liquid. You took a hearty gulp, sighing as the liquid warmed your belly. "That's better. I'll tell you this, politics would be much more fun if everyone drank beforehand."

Bronn laughed. "That's what I've always said. Lads would start less wars if they had an ale in hand."

"And perhaps they would perform better....both on the battlefield and off!"

Tyrion shook his head fondly as he watched you and his guard giggle. He was so used to Bronn being a stubborn headed mule, but he treated you like a younger sister and you brought out the child in him.

Bronn wiped tears out of his eyes at his laughter died down. "And that's my cue, lass. Once I start laughing at your ridiculous jokes I know I've had too much to drink."

"Aw, but I've just started!"

"And I'm sure Tyrion would love nothin more than to continue drinking with you, my lady." He winked at the Lord, who was by then glaring at his guard. "But I take my leave." And with a nod goodbye Bronn was gone.

And then there were two. Lord Tyrion and yourself fell into easy conversation, swapping tales and laughing at each other's past misfortunes. He told you about the time he woke up hungover in a barn alongside goats and you told him of the time you accidentally started a fire after attempting to learn how to cook.

The night drew on, alcohol sipped and chugged down, and you two grew more and more inebriated. By time the alcohol was gone it was the middle of the night, and you were both lying on your backs on the floor rambling on about everything and nothing.

"Tyrion?" You asked at one point.

"My lady?”

"What would your dream life look like?"

"Do you not dream enough?"

You knocked his shoulder with yours, unable to withhold a giggle. "That's not what I mean, you buffoon. I mean if you could live anywhere, do whatever you wanted, what would you do?"

"That is a terribly deep question for a couple of intoxicated fools. What would you do?"

A sigh left your lips as your giggly mood slipped away. "I would live in the mountains, near the ocean. I'd tend to my garden and write and learn how to wield a bow and arrow. I'd set traps in the water and feast on seafood and fresh bread every night. And I'd have a husband who loved me even when I didn't love myself."

"Any children?"

You scrunched your nose. "No children. I mean, maybe one day, if my husband wanted. But I think I could be quite content with my world."

Tyrion was quiet as he thought about the question.

"I'd live somewhere far, far, away from Kings Landing. Far away from everybody, really. No neighbors. I would read every book I could get my hands on, sitting in a window where the sunlight hit just right. Not too far from the sea, so I could go feel the ocean breeze when I desired. And I would have my own apple trees, so I could make my own cider.

"That sounds nice," you murmured, eyelids beginning to droop. "I think I'll just sleep on your floor tonight, Ty. I'm much too tired to return to my own chambers."

"Here," he reached out a hand, pulling the blankets from of his bed and onto the floor. "We can at least stay warm."

Humming in thanks, you allowed yourself to be swathed in the warm furs. You curled closer to your friend, who always seemed to be radiating heat.

"Maybe in our dream lives we could neighbors." You whispered into the air as you began to fall asleep.

Tyrion smiled softly as he too began to succumb to the warmth inviting him to rest.

"Indeed."

•

If that hadn't been the time he began falling, was it when you saw right through the facade that fooled everyone else?

•

Tyrion sat amongst the lords and ladies, nursing a goblet of wine. The only reason he was allowed at these events was his family connections. No one discussed battle strategy, no one asked him to dance, and no one would even dare to attempt small talk.

And the prince was fine with that. That was what he always said, wasn't it? When faced with his harsh reality he would grin and snark and insist that he wouldn't be able to stand it even if someone tried. His sharp mouth protected his soft heart. And no one knew.

Tyrion caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, turning to see the only person stupid enough to approach him at a time like this. You.

"You foolish woman," Tyrion muttered as you settled at his side, your own cup in hand.

"I'm not going to deny it, but what have I done now?" Your voice came out smooth, the accent of silk brought out by the alcohol you'd no doubt been consuming.

"Your father told you to find a husband, and here you are during your best chance of that sitting with the pitiful dwarf."

He wasn't wrong. If you had any desire to find an advantageous match this was the time, as the King hosted lords from all across the continent. However, you had no such desire.

"I don't appreciate your lamenting tone. You know I care not for my father's wishes, I would much rather sit with my friend. These people are cruel to you, and thus I do not care for any of them.

"You know I care not what these people think of me, my lady. It no longer bothers me."

Yet even as Tyrion said that he could feel eyes on the two of you as you conversed, sharp as daggers.

"The world is a curse, Tyrion. It'll kill if you let it."

Tyrion turned to look at you. Your kept your gaze forward, eyes drinking in everything you could.

"Don't let it kill you."

•

Were either of those times the start? Tyrion couldn't be sure. But what he could be sure of, was the moment that he knew he needed to do something about it.

•

Of all your family, it was your younger sister who insisted you come home for an extended visit. She knew you planned to be at King's Landing for a long while but she missed you. More than that your father had allegedly began harping on her to find a husband the moment you left, and you couldn't stomach that. She was too young to worry of such things.

You obliged, after getting King Joffrey's blessing. You could not stand that petulant child, but all you had to do was bat your eyes and he usually allowed you to do as you wished. It helped that you tended to stay out of his way.

So for a few weeks you reunited with your family and homeland. Father was upset you hadn't managed to find a 'high ranking husband' but you were happy enough that he didn't press the issue. You told of the immature new king, dishing all the gossip of King's Landing. Your younger sisters, who'd never let the comforts of home, absorbed it all with childish wonder.

It was a comforting trip, but you found yourself missing King's Landing and a select few of it's inhabitants. You were quite relieved when it was time again to return. 

The throne room was full, in the middle of a day court, when the thick heavy doors swung open. A front guardsman apologized for the interruption before announcing your official return. You stepped into the room with your spine straight as a pin and head held high, accompanied by your guards.

The corset you wore tightly gave the illusion of a perfect hourglass and did wonders for your bust, no doubt noticed by the King as he gave you a disgusting grin. You knew everyone's eyes were on you. Your father raised you to know that if you presented yourself as if you belonged, others wouldn't question it. It was how you moved unnoticed, how you infiltrated royalty when in reality you had no business in it. It was how you survived.

However this time there was an added, unexpected reaction. Unlike the first time you arrived in King's Landing, Tyrion was now witness to your official entry.

The moment you stepped through the doors his eyes were glued to your form. The lord wasn't used to seeing you this way. He was used to pants and tunics while practicing swordsmanship, riding boots while flying around on horses, tight buns and loose jackets as you chased after Bronn.

He already thought you beautiful, even when wearing tough leather and shaking dust from your hair. But wrapped in silks and diamonds you looked dangerously divine, like the gods themselves had blessed you.

You fit right in, Tyrion thought as you approached the King. You could easily be a member of royalty, a high lady, a queen. And when your eyes glided over to meet his, the way you shifted, the Prince had to raise his fist and bite into it for fear he would say something crass.

You stopped in front of the Iron Throne, bowing your head. "My grace, I thank you for your kindness in allowing me to return to your castle."

The child grinned, staring unashamedly at your body. "Of course, a creature as gorgeous as you is welcome to come and go as much as she pleases. Have a good time with daddy, did you?"

You nodded, keeping your face neutral. "Yes your grace. My father sends his love and support for your rule on the iron throne."

Joffrey preened. "Good. You may be dismissed."

"Thank you your grace." You bowed your head once more, and as you turned to leave you paused to face Tyrion. His gaze was still glued to you.

"My lord," you said softly, bowing deeply before rising and looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Murmurs broke throughout the room, the people shocked that anyone dare acknowledge the dwarf in the presence of the king, but before anyone object you picked up your skirts and glided out of the throne room. As the doors closed and you made your way to your old chambers you could hear nothing but the beating of your own heart. Tyrion had been staring at you with such fervor, such awe....it made your skin prickle.

You reached your chambers and with shaky hands let yourself in. However when you attempted to close the door behind you it stuck, and someone forced their way in before slamming it behind them.

You teetered on your heels, falling back onto your bed with an oof. Eyes wide and blinking in surprise, you stared at Lord Tyrion as he now stood in your chambers. It was utterly silent as he walked over to the bed where you sat still as a statue. He stopped just in front of you, only a breaths width away.

"You bow to me, in front of the king and his people, in that dress and then expect to vanish." He paused for long enough to take a shuddering breath. "Had I no self control I would have taken you right there the moment you rose," he finally whispered.

Your lips parted, eyes measuring his expression before meeting his gaze.

"And how’s your self control now....my lord?"

•

Tyrion chuckled to himself at the memory. That was a long night, and the official beginning of this angelic new life.

"Humoring yourself, my love?"

Speaking of angels...the lord turned to watch as you approached him. For his entire life before you, he was fighting. Fighting for his place in the world, fighting to be inspired. For what was life without inspiration, without reason, without drive? He used to like liquor to get him inspired, but you were his new supplier.

Tyrion held out his hand and you wordlessly took it as you joined him in overlooking the gardens. 

"Just reminiscing on the times we're shared, my dear. I was trying to decide when exactly I began falling in love with you, but for the life of me I can not seem to narrow it down."

You smiled sweetly. "I know the exact moment I began falling in love with you."

He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue. 

Instead you shook your head. "That's for me to cherish, and for you to ponder."

The lord tsked. "I'll get you to tell me, mark my words."

You cheeks warmed as you gazed at him. "I'm sure you will....eventually."

Tyrion chuckled before he raised your hand in his, kissing your knuckles softly.

"I'm in no rush, my dear. After all-we have forever."

[godisshook]

Office Hours

My anthropology class was set to be the most boring of the semester. I was taking some advanced 3000 level course that my advisor roped me into. The required reading made me dread things even more; with pages full of museums and old works of art.

With the dreaded first day of class beginning, I walked to my anthropology class, preparing myself to meet the most drab, uninteresting professor, and whatever unlucky TA that was forced to accompany him. Luckily for me, I was only half-right.

As we settle into our seats, with my shabbily-dressed professor fiddling through papers as he mumbles to himself, a sharply dressed young man runs into the room. "Sorry I'm late Dr. G," the mystery man says, panting. My professor addresses the room, saying in a near whisper into his mic, "This is your TA, Joseph, if you need any assistance, he can provide it." As he waves to the students, I finally catch a good look at Joseph.

He was in a button-down with a very revealing amount of buttons unfastened, and a huge coat that draped over his whole body. As his gaze met mine, I couldn't help but continue to stare, to which he smirked, and continued scanning the room. Heat flushed my cheeks as I nearly fainted in class, taking every possible moment to steal a glance at this smokeshow of a TA.

The class couldn't go by quicker, and as it finally drew to a close, I was immediately drawn to Joseph. While other students walked up to the professor, I beelined to Joseph, and could only get out a simple, "Hi, Mr. Joseph," sounding immensely nervous. He replied, "Oh hi! And Joey is just fine." My face reddened as he patted my back with his big hand, sending a shockwave of desire through me.

"I noticed you were super focused during class," he said, breaking me from my trance. "Yea, I just find anthropology so interesting."The dissonance between my thoughts and speech was at an all-time high, and I cringed at the thought of actually enjoying this course. However, my lie caused Joey to perk up, as he said, "Well if you do enjoy this class so much, I might have a way you can help out." On the verge of blacking out from regret, I replied, "I would love to!" Even as I said it, my brain was scrambling to find a way to flake on it as soon as possible. "I need some help filing some things for Professor G., would you mind helping me tonight?"

With his request brewing in my mind, a devilish thought came over me. While the thought of filing papers was the last thing I would think of doing willingly; some alone time with Joey would be perfect.

I walked over to the address he texted me, not worried about the length of the walk as I intended to enjoy the sun. In the middle of my peaceful walk, the sky began to darken, and soon, it was pouring. My walk became a run as I used my hoodie as a makeshift umbrella, finally arriving at the address drenched. I quickly knocked on the door, He peered around me for any indication that I came in a car, and then looked back at me. "You walked down here? It's at least a 20-minute walk from campus," Joey said incredulously. I nodded, head down in shame, and Joey ushered me in, covering me in towels laid near the door. He rushed over to a nearby closet and picked out a top and bottom. Handing both to me he said, "There's a bathroom you can change in upstairs."

I walked back down in a horrendously oversized sweater and a pair of sweatpants. "Looking great," he said with a laugh, and he began directing me to a pile of books to sort out. I couldn't help but notice how dressed up Joey was, hair slicked back, in an all-black tux. Getting closer, I caught a whiff of his cologne, with a scent that reminded me of a verdant forest. Constantly distracted by him, I did my best to close the distance, moving myself and my papers closer and closer to him.

Hours passed with small talk and chuckles being shared between us, and many glances stolen. With the sun now firmly set, and the rain showing no signs of stopping, Joey began wrapping up, and said, "Let me drive you back."

Noticing the rain continuing to pour down, I mimed thinking about it, to which he laughed again, and I replied, "Of course I want you to drive me back!" As I got in his car, I could only wonder where he got the money for something like it on a TA's salary but didn't give it a second thought.

While I thought we would be able to get some chit-chat in, Joey was immediately inundated with phone calls, and I silently listened to his slew of conversations.

With the gauntlet of calls finally done, Joey focused back on me. He laid a hand on my thigh, causing me to heat up as I looked over at him. "Come to my place," he said. My eyes went down to his dick, now bulging in his tight pants. Catching the hint, I replied, "It's quite late, but I do need the extra study hours." Joey laughed at my response and put in a whole new set of directions.

As we both got out of the car, I noticed Joey taking off his coat. "I saw you eyeing me in class all morning, and especially at the Professors' place, so I only assumed this is what you wanted," Joey said. Walking to his side, I now saw him fully; holding his top in his hands. With his muscular chest revealed, I couldn't hide my lust anymore. Even as my face reddened, I tried to keep my cool, replying, "What would Professor G. think about his TA getting with a student?" He closed the distance between our lips, and said, "He wouldn't need to know a thing, right?" His thumb grazed my lip as he hovered closer and closer to me, the smell of his cologne overpowering my nostrils.

I was completely entranced by Joey, and I could now simply reply, "Yes." He pulled me into a deep kiss, sucking the breath out of me as he pressed his lips into mine. In between bouts of kisses, we progressed from room to room in his house, with layers being removed and strewn about.

Soon, we were in his room; his lips only leaving mine to let us take a breath. Feeling his cock press against me, I grew ever more impatient to feel him. I laid Joey on the bed, as his eyes met mine and sent me into a spiral of pleasure. As I begin straddling him, he let out a tortured groan, his hard cock pressing against his boxers. "You are truly a sight to behold," he said as he felt up me. I chuckled and said, "My God you're an absolute nerd!"

My eyes scanned over his body, a fire lighting up in it as he playfully tensed his chest.

"I like this angle," I said, tracing a finger down his chest to his boxers. With a flourish, I slid off his boxers, revealing his massive cock. Suddenly, Joey would take me by the waist, and put me straight on his cock, sending a wave of pleasure through me in an instant. His muscular arms laid me on my back, as my legs were raised and I soon felt him rock throughout my body. Joey's rhythmic thrusts sent me to my limit, as sweat caused his once-slicked hair to become messy and ruffled. Our eyes met as we both came, with waves of pleasure washing over me as his body rested on top of mine.

After that night, I looked at the class in a new light. Soon, I was registering for every office hour session I could, and would always make sure to request the latest time possible. I loved my "tutoring" sessions with Joey; even though I didn't learn a thing in any of them. And as the cherry on top, my professor never caught on as to why I was always going to office hours; he must've thought his class actually interested me.

[jensensitive]

I am obsessed with the way in which you draw Dean. You have his features nailed to perfection - somehow your Dean looks even more Dean than Dean in the show, because you exaggerate everything that makes him HIM. It's truly breathtaking <3 Any advice on how to get those features so flawless?

This is so so nice, thank you so much 😭💕💕💕

Honestly Dean is like my go-to thing to draw basically, and has been for many years, like I have to try to refrain myself from just drawing Dean again sometimes. He's like probably half of how I've learned to draw at all. So there's definitely practice there.

That said, I did not immediately have much of answer to this. It's like, his face is just his perfect, beautiful face, and then I try to draw that. 😅

So I drew some Dean to figure out what it is I do, so thanks for the excuse to draw more Dean lol

Extensive answer under the cut

If you're drawing something realistic from reference, for Dean you kind of have two options, you can either get a screencap that's closer up so you can see details better, but the top of his head is cut off, or you can get one where you can see less details but his whole torso is in frame. It can be weirdly difficult to guess at where the top of his head is sometimes, and you don't need details to capture a likeness, I think it was Sargent that said that the shape of the head is actually the most important aspect in capturing a likeness, so it's something to keep in mind. On the other hand, if you want to look at his pretty eyelashes while you draw him, you might want something closer up. (An understandable impulse).

Another thing is just to look for a reference that you really like, contrasty light and shadow are also great to look for. It's difficult to create a great drawing without them, but also it will illustrate the structure of his head best too. Look for shadow shapes you want to draw. If a reference is too dark (as it often is, because it's supernatural), edit it so you can actually see what you're drawing lmao.

I took a bunch of random screencaps of 11x02-- as random as I could, normally I'd just take screencaps of what I already kind of like, but I tried to just get all of it so you can see what I'm not choosing. (also couldn't help taking some cas ones when the lighting was going really hard)

I love a profile, I love a 3/4 view, I love when his eyes are like half open. His face was kinda giving towards the end of this episode.

Hopefully you can see them well enough. The mass ideas are more important for picking at impactful reference, but ofc I'm also trying to avoid any where he's making a dumb face or it's blurry. Sometimes that's only evident when I open it bigger, but that's okay, we have a bunch to pick from.

a. This one is one I picked out because it's an interesting angle, and I'd definitely do a little study of it, but because the lighting is so soft, it probably wouldn't be super interesting.

b. I like this one, the face he's making is hilarious, and I like the rhythm of his hand, but if I were to draw it, I might draw a fourth finger, otherwise it might look strange. So keep that in mind too, if it looks odd in the reference, it will look odd in the drawing, so unless you're confident that you can effectively change it, pick a different reference or find a second reference to help you change it.

c. This lighting's more dynamic, and I like his expression.

d. Would be hard to pick between these. This one's 3/4 and has a nice eyelash shadow, and I love the shape of his eye when it's downturned.

e. Shoutout to the shape of Jensen's brow when he looks down gotta be one of my favorite genders. + subtle Rembrandt lighting. Lovely.

f. This one is so good. Overhead lighting getting a shadow from his ear in a sideview, defining the jaw in an interesting way. Great expression. It's a bit strange, the way he's looking to the side, so it might be hard to draw convincingly, but would be worth it if I could do it. The shadow from the hair defining the shape of the brow. The light on the cheek defining the slight eyebag. The reflected light under the eye, the light landing on the nose. Would probably change the hair a bit because it looks a bit odd at this angle in this lighting, and if drawn like this it would probably look at bit block-like.

g. More rembrandt lighting. Shoutout to the shadow that this upper lip casts on his lower lip. Shoutout to the shadow his lower lip casts on his chin. Shoutout to the line of light defining his neck. Shoutout to the shape of his brow and forehead.

h. The rhythms here are chefs kiss-- the shadow line diagonal from the corner of his hairline to the corner of his brow echoed by the shadow line diagonal of his cheekbone, then that second line following through to the line of light on his neck that curves the other way.

i. This one's kinda boring wrt lighting, but it's an interesting enough angle to do a study of.

I'm going with screencap c because it's gonna work well to effectively illustrate the basic structure of how I construct his features. It's not directly straight-on, so the form isn't lost, but it's straight enough on to properly show our proportions.

For supplies here, I'm just using a soft charcoal pencil, I just use the kinda cheap ones (currently Markart) cause I actually like them better than General's. And it's on smooth newsprint. I just get it in a big thing of 500 sheets. Not archival but it's a cheap thing that's incredibly enjoyable to draw on. Pink Papermate eraser and a kneaded eraser. The pen I use at one point for some reason is a red Pentel RSVP ballpoint I think, although I actually prefer a Bic.

1. So first thing I block in that main shape, in this case, his head and shoulders. I also have to draw in the hairline at the same time, cause I can't figure it out otherwise. He's got kind of pointy ears. The collar of his jacket often comes up pretty high on the back of his neck. He's got a distinctive hairline that I think can go a long way to showing it's Dean, it's worth taking note of. It swoops to our left, and then the corner (I guess?) of his hairline will line up with the corner/arch of his brow. And don't draw the hairline as an unbroken line, but several lines with some room to breathe. His shoulders are pretty straight and broad, but about three heads across which is pretty normal.

2. Next what I think about is the shape of the eyesockets and the line of the brow. This bit will go a ways for conveying Dean's expression, because he has a wide range from light and happy to horribly scowly that's in the brows. You don't have to define the exact line of the brow at this moment, blocking in the general line is fine just to have an idea of where it lands. You can go back later and refine it. I also find where the bottom lid lands. In my brain it makes a shape like what I've drawn. I might not draw it just like this, but even if I don't, this is the shape I'm thinking about. The line from the end of his eyebrow to his bottom lid is a fave, sometimes you can see it on him, especially at an angle, and it's real pretty.

3. Next I find where the bottom of his nose lands, it's about double the length of the eyesocket. And the line under his bottom lip, about halfway between his nose and the bottom of his chin. These measurements are pretty average measurements for a face. I didn't give myself enough room for his chin initially, so I moved it down to fix it. Also adjusted his face very slightly wider on the right side, cause it's looking a bit narrow.

4. I added some of our shadow shapes. This is where finding a reference with well-defined shadows will be very helpful. And I sketched in the clothes cause why not. The clothes don't have to be perfect, who cares, Dean's collar is not our point of interest lol. The shadow on the neck will probably be slightly curved because of the roundness of the neck. If it's not, you might want to make it curve slightly anyway just to help define the form. I blocked in where the eyes are.

eyes: For Jensen's lovely eyes, they have a specific shape that is so nice to draw, especially at certain and angles and with certain expressions. But basically the top lid is more angular and can be almost boxed off at the end, and the line from the corner of the eye to the lashes is an s-curve that's higher in the middle. Again, not unusual features in drawing a face, but such pretty examples. The shadow that his lower lid casts (or his makeup idk?) is often dark enough to look vaguely like eyeliner. Jensen's lower eyelids, an underrated part of Jensen. His eyebrows are thicker in the middle and sparser on the ends.

5. Next I found the corners of the lips. This is an important aspect in the way I draw mouths. Sometimes I just draw them with dots where the corners of the lips are, a curve where the lips part in the middle, a shadow under the bottom lip, and the curve of the cupid's bow. (This is seen below in 6) I think I also adjusted the bottom lip shadow here. Straight-on, the middle of his lips is slightly higher than the corners, but of course, this will change when not straight-on, depending on if we're looking up or down at his mouth. I also sketched in the nose shape. The ridge of his nose has a nice subtle bump, and then the ball of his nose is very slightly squared off I think, from a front-facing perspective, I feel like. And I drew in his slightly drawn brows. Just pay attention to the angles in your reference, because the expression, the perspective and the angle of the head can impact it. But of course generally, drawn down in the middle, furrowed = scowly; drawn up, unfurrowed = happy.

nose: I prefer drawing his nose in profile. And who wouldn't, look at it! The slight curve of the bridge and then the ball of the nose. I will exaggerate this a little sometimes, just because it's fun and I like it. I couldn't find a reference, but from below, you can see the shape of the bottom of his nose, it dips in the middle a bit more than average. Drawing the bottom of the nose is often a delicate balance between shadow and reflected light. I love keeping it light, save for the nostrils, but then the shadow under the nose can be important too. Sometimes it's just a stylistic choice. Note that there's a plane change between the side of the nose and the cheek. (I think I drew his nose too upturned here, but the general idea is still there)

6/mouth: In drawing the mouth, the top line of the upper lip looks more rectangular at the ends, increasingly so as it turns away from us, and much less so as it turns towards us. Of course, he has a full upper lip that you can shade as you like. I try to keep it distinct from the shadow of the line of the mouth, and a reflected light on the top lip can be good here too. For the bottom lip, it's always nice to give is some shine with a hard-edge highlight. For the cupid's bow, I try to leave a light between the upper lip and the shadow in the cupid's bow. For some reason I drew the shadow backwards here, but I think it looks fine.

7/ears: I started to shade it, and then I remembered that he has ears. There's a simplified way I draw ears that I like. It's not entirely accurate, because the two shadows at the top are actually usually connected, but I find it a bit distracting that way sometimes, so this is more subtle I guess. In profile, I don't really have a method of drawing it, I just draw whatever the reference gives me or bs it with a similar version of this, depending.

8/hair: My method for drawing his hair is 1) suffer 2) hope and pray. I like to leave a rim light-type deal between the contour/outliine of the hair and the rest of the hair, I feel like it helps define it a bit more. The direction of his hair, and thus the direction of my lines is something like this.

9. And then I more or less just shaded. When shading, it's always good to follow the direction of the plane, and I also alternatively like to shade in the direction that the light is falling to reinforce that gesture, but when I shade a face, I try to shade in the opposite direction of where wrinkles would go, if that makes sense, mostly up and down I guess. This is of course on a case by case basis, like a lot of times, I'll do the forehead horizontally anyway, but it's especially touchy around where the laugh lines of the mouth would be and the neck. And on soft plane changes (and softish hard plane changes), I often shade at a different angle to the main shadow. Shading direction can also delineate different areas of similar tones, like I did with the jacket and the side of the nose. I like to give Dean his eyelash shadow, because he deserves it. I also drew in the eyes, of course. I think I actually tend to shade them backwards, and the light would fall in the opposite direction, so when lit from the right, the right side would be darker, but I just don't draw it that way idk maybe I should.

And there he is, that's our guy!

Normally when I'm drawing, I'm definitely a bit more all over the place, and don't necessarily do things in perfect order. And it's good to move around. I'm probably not going to be shading things before noting where all the features are going to land, but I often am shading something before I've drawn everything. Or end up drawing one eye and then maybe do part of the other and then move to do part of the nose and then sketch in an ear and then maybe notice something's off somewhere and adjust that, etc. Just go with it, have fun, he's got a fun face to draw! 💗

[phantomposting]

Another addition to the Goulish Laughter AU promt

Writing this a bit sleep deprived so sorry for any misspellings or poor Grammer. I just couldn't let myself sleep until I itched this very specific itch! If you haven't read the original prompt you can find it here! And I really hope those who enjoyed the prompt enjoy this little tidbit :D

TW: BLOOD, GORE, CANNIBALISM, STARVATION, SELF HATERED.

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The night was cold as ice and hunger knawed so incessantly at his stomach. Danny was having a hard time ever since he got back into the Joker's clutches. The man was not remotely forgiving of the accidental panicked flight response he had found himself having when face to face with his brother. Joker had even considered it a betrayal and had deemed his punishment for such to be starvation. No meat until his say so. Danny was losing count of the days as the unrelenting hunger ripped at his stomach.

Sure it wasn't easy to kill him Joker knew that through many trial and errors but if he didn't eat something soon. Well... let's just say he wasn't sure what would happen. Alas he truly had no say in the matter. All he could do was hope that Joker wouldn't try to rub it in his face again.

He also found himself desperately begging the Ancients that he should not see his brother again. Danny knew it would be far too great of a risk to Damian to let him anywhere near Danny. He wasn't sure if he could keep what little grasp he had of his sanity if he did anything to hurt his brother. Yet part of him begged and knawed at his mind to know what his brother's soft young flesh tasted of. Just the thought had him drooling.

Danny found himself soon pulled out of his hazy hunger laced thoughts as cackling filled his mind. "Why don't you look famished. Have you finally learned your lesson ghoul?" The clown grinned over him. The scent of blood in the air only making his stomach ache worse.

"Now now don't look so glum. I figured it was about time I've brought you a snack." The man grinned as he held up a struggling teen gagged and bound. The look of panic in the boys eyes mad Danny's skin crawl.

"Come on you and I both know you want a taste." Joker grinned readying it to cut the dark haired teens cheek. The teens sky blue eyes laser focused on the knife looking as if they were going through a million different scenarios a minute. Danny knew no matter how he felt about hurting the fancily dressed teen it would go out the window as soon as Joker drew blood. There was no grasping at the straws of his humanity with this level of hunger.

He tried to shake the memories of Sam from his mind before he could completely lose himself. Her blood on his claws. Her flesh as soft and tender as a rare steak. The squelching and crunches of meat and bones. He felt sick just thinking of it.

The quick movement of Joker pulled him out causing Danny to flinch. The scent of blood fresh blood filled his mind as when world blurred around him. A cacophony of crunching and squelches followed suit.

The next thing he knew the teen captive was backed against a wall dread in his eyes. He looked as if he were going to be sick. The Joker a sickly pile of viscera and bone within his claws. The man's vile blood coating his teeth and drenching his shirt.

Batman and Robin had arrived minutes too late. Purple fabric was strewn about around the sickly stick of a child. A pile of minced gore and bone infront of him. Meat in his hands and blood on his teeth. The two couldn't even bring themselves to move in towards the sickening scene to apprehend him.

Ice blue eyes locked on the two heroes after a moment. The small form of the boy released a feeble chuckle as he grinned up at them tears rolling down his pale corpse like cheeks. "I don't say I regret it, but honestly, he tasted a little funny." Needless to say nobody dares to respond.