#if you see any mistakes no you didn't :)))

[vcaart]

Our last dance

(aka wanted to draw this picture):

[caliartcat]

tfw you realize your boss and mentor is a fucking idiot

[aswallowimprisoned]

Restless far from a Wine Dark sea - Day 22 - Sirens

Military medic Ernesto is tasked with taking in an injured sirena, creature of myth

Alternative view of the prologue. 

@medwhumpmay

Tw captivity, serious injury, fainting/unconscious, blood loss, tranquilliser dart

≪ °❈° ≫

The sirena wobbled ungainly down the street, streaked with blood.

Ernesto had been surprised to hear the army was being deployed to deal with a terrorist attack in the sea-side city of Clearwater, only to discover the perpetrators were apparently inhuman sea monsters of legend. The attacks by the creatures had been bad, the air of the city was cut with the wail of emergency vehicles attending to the victims. But Ernesto had been called in as an army medic, and had a more dangerous task to perform than his civilian counterparts.

They were going to take one alive.

He looked like a normal man, thin cotton trousers and a loose shirt, but he was heavily injured, clasping his left arm to his body as copious quantities of blood flowed out his right leg. They had been assured he had been seen fighting another mermaid, both using siren magic until only one had emerged alive from a small cafe on the corner of the street.Now, Ernesto was sure that without medical intervention, the sirena man would be also be dead soon.

The sirena stopped to stare up into the sky, and covered his eyes with one hand.

“I have him in my sights. Taking the shot.”

The tranquilliser dart hit him in the shoulder. The man stumbled and fell to his knees.

“Hit.”

The sirena started taking off his shoes. An unusual move, but people did strange things when tranquilised.

“It might take a moment. These darts are for a normal male human dose, but once he is down we are going to have to move fast. He may have hidden injuries, but the amount of blood that is coming out of his right thigh is the biggest concern once his airway is secure.” Ernesto told the other military personnel, though he had already briefed them in the medical truck. There was no room for mistakes once the sirena was down.

Finally, the creature slumped onto his back.

“Let’s go.” Ernesto ordered.

They approached carefully, the tranquiliser rifle trained on his still form, along with several more deadly weapons should the sea monster try to rise again.

Oxygen was the most important - the wrong dose of tranquiliser would shut down the sirena’s instinct to breath, and -more importantly to Ernesto- the oxygen mask would prevent him from speaking, singing, or biting.

The sirena seemed to be unconscious, not opening his eyes Ernesto approached.

“Ready.”

Ernesto pounced, slamming the O2 mask onto the seamonsters face, forcing the rubber bit between his teeth while burly soldiers pinned his ankles and shoulders to the ground, avoiding the places where the mercreature had appeared most injured.

The sirena groaned in pain, but didn’t open his eyes.

“Still unconscious, but can feel pain. Let’s get him secure.” 

Two other medics rushed over with a spinal board, fabric restraints already secured in the metal frame. It was designed to hold people far stronger than the short and slight man in front of Ernesto, but he hoped the sirena would not wake and demonstrate whether the mer had superhuman strength.

There was so much they didn’t know.

They needed this sirena alive.

The merman was swarmed, hands lifting him onto the board and straps being pulled tight. 

“Not too tight on his legs; we may need to manoeuvre them when we bandage them up…” The straps were loosened, but not enough to allow a great range of movement.

“Let’s do an emergency assessment, just for life threatening injuries. Roy, get some gauze on his right thigh, try to stop some of that bleeding.” Ernesto ordered, “Ogunyemi, can you check the bleeding on the right thigh?”

“Left thigh has serious bleeding, hit something important. I reckon he will need surgery and a transfusion asap, as the rate of blood loss is life threatening…”

Getting the sirena off the street and into the military ambulance was already high on Ernesto’s list of priorities. They could stabilise him in the truck.

“His left arm is broken, probably a complex fracture of some kind. It did not move correctly when I restrained it,” Ogunyemi informed him as she started to dab away blood from the sirena’s left leg, “Right leg doesn’t look too bad, bloodloss minimal. But there appears to be a symbol drawn on the skin? Let me wipe some of the blood away…” Ogunyemi patted the injury with a piece of gauze.

Abruptly, there was a tearing of fabric, and the man’s legs were replaced by an expanse of deep blue scales, stretching 2 metres, culminating in a fan-like fishtail the colour of freshly spilled blood.

The sirena showed his true form.

“Ok,” Ernesto breathed, not letting the transformation shake him, “let’s get him moved into the ambulance. We just need to keep him alive…”

a/n tried to do a double reference to sirens with a hispanic first-responder, then realised military trucks probaly don't have sirens, but it's an abulance so it has the vibes.

sleep time

[wardingshout]

slowly getting back into stuff...

[jitterbugbear]

gale's folly

[ghostlylulla-by]

Haha, remember when we first met, Pearl? I had just come to the surface, and I didn't understand Inkopolis at all. You taught me everything I needed to know. I went to Mount Nantai every day for a week, just hoping you would show up again.

Bahaha yeah, I thought you were a stalker. I remember you singing when I showed up and then out of nowhere you were all like "LET'S START A BAND!"

I just had a feeling about you.

[lil-lemon-snails]

"I can't ignore what's under dancefloor boards, The rhythm of my heart a dead-as-disco beat, But I still move my feet, to slip out of this groove, I'm free" ~ 2econd 2ight 2eer, Will Wood, The Normal Album

I have been plagued with visions of LDR Sun every time I listen to this song and I NEEDED to get this out of my system @spadillelicious when do we get to smooch the boy pLEASE

v textless version and close ups under cut!! v

[secriden]

*cracks knuckles* Okay lets talk about the elephant in the room: Style going to the support group for those who've suffered loss and telling what appears to be a fake story about losing his pet dog.

I'm going to point out a few things that I think provide a framework for Style's actions here. Not because I think it excuses what he did, but because I think a nuanced read is what the character deserves.

Point 1: An irresistible opportunity

The subs put the "Support Group for Loss" on the image in the notebook, but I'm not sure there's anything to suggest that Style would've known that was what this image represents until he showed up and saw the sign on top of the door.

In episode 2, Bison says, "He plans everything down from years, months, weeks to days" and then tells Kant:

So Style is literally just going to addresses/locations at given days and times, potentially not knowing what to expect. And as much as Fadel is certainly attending this meeting as a response to having that heartbreaking flashback (😭), this is also something he attends regularly and has planned to attend way in advance. So Style has no reason to think Fadel is attending this meeting because of a recent resurfacing of his pain.

What we, the audience, and what the characters know are very different things.

Now, should Style have turned his cute ass right around once he realised what this meeting was? Of course he should. But that wouldn't have been true to Style's character. We've been told by his best friend that he is "crazy" and been shown repeatedly that he lives right up to that description.

Style is impulsive. He's all base instinct and he acts on his desires without thought or contemplation. And by this point he is desperate for a deeper connection with Fadel. He's fascinated, captivated by the mystery that is Fadel and this is an excellent opportunity to finally see behind the wall Fadel so carefully maintains.

When Style sees the sign above the door, Style looks at the notebook (which, again, shows nothing but people sitting in a circle with the words RISE UP) like he's just realising what it means. He then gets this amused, almost rueful look on his face (like he's thinking "am I really going to do this?") before it shifts to determination and he walks through the door.

(My soul for the ability to once again gif something because FUCK Dunk is doing SO MUCH in this show!!)

To Style, this is just too good of an opportunity to give up.

Because let's be real, Fadel is so clearly lying and hiding something:

Fadel is shady as FUCK. He is simultaneously actually a really good cook (Style finally tries his burger so he knows, now), and also has the skills to work at a strip host club, and also can take on 3 guys in a fight, and also can break a man's arm with his thighs. Can you honestly blame Style for losing his mind just a little bit about wanting to get his hands on something, anything, to figure this man out?

Style is being absolutely consistent in his persistence to understand Fadel. This isn't about the car or about finally 'winning' the fight (thank you @airenyah for giving such a detailed framework to understand what Style's been doing until this point) anymore. This is about Style wanting to know Fadel himself.

Point 2: The potential implications of the setting

Now, what might give us a bit of insight as to why Style is this way? I have a theory (albeit one that could prove to be very wrong, but hear me out). I think this whole entire show is set in what could potentially be quite a small town/suburb.

There's a few things that make this theory plausible:

(1) Fadel and Bison are in hiding after Bison blew their previous cover. They're probably on the run from some section of the authorities and so it makes sense to settle in a quiet/out of the way place.

(2) Style seems to be really familiar with the people in the area. Like he grew up there and its the kind of small town where everyone knows everyone and everyone is in everyone else's business.

(3) Style is clearly the darling of the market aunties and uncles.

Style just lost her a sale and potentially a loyal customer, and she's still rooting for him? In episode 2, when Style asks the uncle to let him borrow his cart, it takes nothing but his word for the uncle to give Style his entire cart of produce for his ridiculous scheme.

Style is so clearly someone they all know well and have great affection for, and a very plausible explanation for this is that they all watched him grow up and the entire market (town/village) is fond of him.

And honestly?? Yeah, we see the way Style is actually quite sweet in that careless, guileless, thoughtless way. He goes the extra mile to fix his mistake with Fadel by replacing his car parts for free in episode 1. He helps out by taking orders in episode 2 without being asked and takes it seriously. In episode 3, he tries to drive more business to Fadel's store (bless him, he so clearly does NOT understand how restaurants work, but he MEANS well!!), and can we all acknowledge that it works?? He understands how to appeal to potential customers in the area because he knows the people there. It's not (entirely) his fault that Fadel wasn't remotely prepared for an actual rush crowd and Bison was off getting kinky with Kant and not doing his (fake) job. He is so clear about not judging Fadel's host job and tries his hardest to help him (to absolutely NO effect, but still) when the 3 guys gang up on Fadel.

Style is so loved and more importantly so very loveable.

Point 3: What this could mean for Style's character

So, potentially, Style is someone who grew up in a small town, who has been well loved, potentially spoiled and coddled, but also very much kept within the confines of the narrow viewpoint that a quiet, country town places on you.

It's in the way his dad scolds him as if he was still a child when he's at least in his mid to late 20s. It's in the way Style was so mad at Fadel for scolding him ("thanks for the lecture, dad"), like that hit a sore point for Style. It's in the way no one in the market takes him seriously; they're fond, but he's still a kid in their eyes. It's in the way he has an abundance of free time like he doesn't REALLY need to work at his dad's shop. It's in the way he sees Fadel beat 3 guys up with ease, starts wondering if Fadel is an assassin or a hitman, and is completely unfazed like he doesn't quite have a handle on reality.

It's in the way his best friend is a man who has no qualms about lying to him and putting his life in danger, and how Style seems to have no other friends or people (aside from his dad) in his life.

@wuxian-vs-wangji made a comment to me about Style being desperate for a meaningful connection, and I think she hit the nail on the head. Because along comes Fadel, a mysterious stranger with a suspiciously versatile set of skills who is also very hot and keeps giving Style these wonderfully complex reactions? Who sometimes wants nothing to do with Style, but at other times seems to be at war within himself about desperately wanting him? Who treats Style with anything but apathy?

This is catnip to Style; he never had any hope of resisting this.

Breaking news: Style is a complex and imperfect character...

Here's the thing, though: he was never going to try. The show has been incredibly upfront about who Style is as a person. Regardless of whether I'm correct about why he is this way (ie. that he is very much the product of the environment that didn't know how to handle a kid with Style's personality), episode 3 shouldn't have surprised anyone about Style. He's been incredibly consistent and true to himself.

He wants Fadel and he's "crazy" enough to go all in, no holds barred about it, and the Support Group was the biggest doorway to finally discovering something REAL about Fadel.

And its not just about sex or to prove his superiority anymore. Because if it was just that, then Style would have reacted very differently to their first time.

In this scene, Style is pleased and evidently enjoying himself, but he isn't exuberant. He isn't overcome with joy. If anything, he was more happy and excited when Fadel let him help out in the diner (I mentioned this in the tags in this post too) than he was when Fadel is literally fucking him. He lets Fadel set the pace; barely moves to touch Fadel except to hold him close. Almost like he doesn't want to accidentally mess this up, like he's worried he'll take too much, so he'll take what Fadel gives him and no more (please appreciate @braceletofteeth's amazing tags on this post). For a character that has been so aggressively on the offensive, this is shocking until you realise that sleeping with Fadel - while it's a step in the right direction - isn't Style's end goal anymore.

And he makes that abundantly clear in this episode:

Does Style even fully realise the weight of this desire? I doubt it. But I do believe that Style is in earnest. He doesn't fully understand his own feelings, but he also doesn't really care to either. All he knows is that he wants Fadel, wants his attention and his passion and his focus and his heart.

...but Style is also kind of, sort of, perfect.

Because he's exactly, precisely, breathtakingly exactly what Fadel needs.

Because Fadel is hurt and broken and bleeding inside. Because Fadel is barely holding it all together for Bison's sake, but has already given up hope for any true happiness for himself. Because Fadel can't trust anyone or anything in his life, when he's been used and used and used by the family who should've loved and cared and protected him.

Because it's going to take nothing short of this kind of unwavering, unshakable, uncomplicated determination to give Fadel even a chance of healing and opening his heart to love again.

[skrunksthatwunk]

skwisgaar punished arc

[yangjeongin]

SKZ as DND CLASSES: RANGER MINHO

far from the bustle of cities and towns, past the hedges that shelter the most distant farms from the terrors of the wild, amid the dense-packed trees of trackless forests and across wide and empty plains, rangers keep their unending watch.

[bumblingbabooshka]

The worst trope in the universe is when someone accuses character A, who is part of a real or fantasy or coded minority, of doing something bad and everyone's like "That's just your prejudice against [real or fantasy minority]!" and it turns out character A actually did do that bad thing and everyone else was stupid for not believing they did that bad thing.

[caliartcat]

(apollo voice) why does my boss keep hanging out with this other guy

[arttsuka]

Draw Jedediah (Night at the Museum) being mistaken by Loki (MCU) as Mobius M. Mobius

[worthyprnce]

gwaine had many hidden talents.

we all know about his amazing skills with swordfighting. a skill he learnt from watching knights and squires play and fight, from picking up fights even being too young to do that and during his many years traveling alone. he had to know how to defend himself and, most importantly for him in the begging of his life, his mother and sister as well. but that's not all he knew.

growing up without his father to teach him the arts of sword fight, he learnt a lot from his mother and older sister instead. at seven he got tired of his clothes tearing up all the time, so he asked his mother to teach him how to sew. even after becoming a knight, gwaine took a few minutes to mend his own clothes whenever he could. he needed this time alone. at nine, his sister taught him about the language of flowers and how to dance. he did it for them. he used to steal flowers from luxurious gardens around to gift his mother and sister, and he always took them to dance, using any excuses to do it. he just loved it, and he loved to see them happy, not worrying about money or grieving for once.

at eleven he already knew how to steal food from the market without getting caught. and he was an excellent bargainer too. he was known by some as the child who stole valuable objects from distracted rich people and sold them at a lower price afterwords. robin hood style. it didn't take him too long to learn how to make his own dagger. courtesy of the local blacksmith who took pity on him and his family.

but most of his little secret talents he learned along his travels, wandering alone after leaving home at an early age. he learned to play the lute, to play cards, to steal by cheating playing cards, how to get easy money, how to impress a girl, how to impress a boy, how to whistle, to cook — although he was not actually good at it, just very practical. he knew french, a little latin, how to orient himself by the stars, how to bandage a wound by himself and what to do if it became infected, body anatomy (for medical and first aid reasons only. mostly), cut his own hair, trim his own beard, how to read maps, how to identify poisonous mushrooms, how to cut wood for fire, to swim, and many other little things.

but the hidden talent he was most proud of, was his drawing skills.

when he was around twenty, he once saw an elderly man struggling with a few home repairs he had, and decided to help him. as a return, the old man let him stay in his home for a few days. gwaine soon found out the man loved to draw. he had plenty of sketchbooks filled with many different portraits and landscapes, gwaine was in awe. seeing gwaine's genuine interest, the old man taught some basic and quick drawing principles, and gave gwaine a sketchbook and a pencil as a gift for all the help and company.

during his long years alone walking aimlessly around, gwaine used his sketches to immortalise every place he passed, every interesting person he met along the way, passions that made his heart beat differently, animals he helped save, taverns that served a good ale.

by the time he met merlin, his sketchbook pages were full of sketches of camelot, gaius' chambers, bottles of potions with funny names, little details inside the castle most people wouldn't even notice. but gwaine did.

he found himself making sketches of gwen with flowers in her hair, of arthur with the worst expression possible, of gaius with his usual worried face. but merlin was the main focus of his new drawings. every page had a sketch of merlin, doesn't matter how big or small.

and when gwaine was no longer in camelot, he realized his mind had never left merlin's room. he went back into drawing landscapes and taverns, but no other person were interesting enough. not when he once had merlin.

the pages of his sketchbook were getting boring and lifeless, not what they used to be before. but it seemed like they would come back to life whenever gwaine and merlin were together again. he had many sketches of merlin with white lillies around him, merlin's eyes shining as bright as they did the night gwaine confessed he was doing it all for him, wyverns, an old and dirty trident he had no idea what it actually was for but he liked the shape of it. even arthur made a comeback to his sketchbook.

when he was made prisoner by jarl, he lost all of his sketchbooks. everything inside his bag was stolen and discarded, and since gwaine's escape was rushed, he had no opportunity to try and find it. he lost it all, all the memories of his travels, the beautiful places he saw, the people he met, his early adventures with merlin. all lost. he had only his memory now.

after he became a knight he was reluctant to go back to his old hobby. still bitter about losing it all suddenly. but after getting to know his new friends better, and after he started to see merlin everyday, he couldn't resist.

he used every moment he had alone to draw. he loved drawing lancelot's hair. he had his fun giving leon extra curls. elyan, percival, and even lesser known knights and guards owned gwaine's sketchbook pages.

but his muse was always merlin. drawing merlin was like muscle memory for him. he would be lying if he said he never lost himself in his own thoughts while admiring merlin's features and carving them into his memory so he could draw him later.

his drawings were directly affected by his mood, so it was easy to know when he was angry or upset. but there was only one emotion showing whenever he drew merlin, and it was love. pure, powerful and unconditional love. sometimes a brokenhearted love. sometimes a melancholic love. and there were even the times he felt a certain kind of guilty love, a mixture of insecurity and uncertainty. but it was always love. and it was always merlin.

the first sketch he made after getting back to draw was a memory very dear to him of the first day he met merlin. he was smiling, looking at gwaine with hopes he would stay, begging him with his eyes and words for gwaine to stay in camelot with him. for him. whatever his reason was, he wanted gwaine close, and gwaine remembered those eyes and words very clearly.

his last sketch was also one he made of merlin. he was smiling as he held gwaine's hand. just before he was the one leaving gwaine this time. and even though gwaine had his eyes blurred by tears, he made his best to register merlin in his pages one more time, one last time, forever.

[toasted-buguette]

Into Your Own Hands

Summary: Ryis decides to pine from a distance in order to be a better wingman for March. The farmer has other ideas.

Ryis is many things: A son, a brother, a nephew, a pretty good woodworker if he were to say so himself. A friend, and he tried to be a good one. 

Ryis is also in love, although he would desperately like to not be. 

Mistria is, despite its constant activity, a very small town with a very close knit community. It’s one of the things that made him love it there, that and the quiet that let him hear birdsong with more clarity and variety. Everyone knew each other and everyone had some manner of bond that had existed for at least a year or two, so it made sense that the arrival of a new member of the community would spark interest in everyone. Ryis wasn’t exempt from this, after all the last time someone new came it was him, but he liked to think himself a little bit chiller about it than some others.

Chiller than March, he means.

March is, as much as he likes to hide it, a pretty good guy underneath all his bluster. He just doesn’t like change, when Ryis first moved in it took March a week to stop sulking and talk to him. It was only once Friday came along and Olric dragged his brother to the inn that he and Ryis actually got to have a conversation and that (Plus one or two of Hemlock’s drinks) was all it took to spark a friendship that would surely last a lifetime. Because besides being craftspeople and their mutual adoration of Mistria and its citizens, the quality Ryis and March shared in the highest quantity was their loyalty. 

Which is why Ryis can’t acknowledge his growing fondness for the new farmer. 

You see, after the earthquake a lot of things needed repairing and the citizens of Mistria needed a distraction, so a new face was just what the town needed. Ryis, on his part, was eager to welcome the new farmer into town, after all he knew better than anyone what it was like to be the new member of a well established community. Besides, he knew they would be working together on the myriad of reconstruction projects, so it was only natural that they get along outside of work. It helped that they were very easy to get along with. 

March, as is his wont, was not as receptive to this newcomer. No one was surprised when any conversation with him eventually led to him grumbling about the no good farmer who was only here for their own gain and totally wasn’t going to last the season. Ryis, at least, was surprised when these grumblings continued past the first week of the farmer being there. 

After all, the farmer went to very great lengths to talk to everyone frequently, March included, and usually once he got to know someone he mellowed out at least a little. But no, it seemed that March’s ire only grew with every attempt to make peace the farmer made. Ryis tried to reassure them that March would warm up to them eventually, (He had to, they were just too charming even for March to hate for long), but his reassurances could only go so far when March seemed to go out of his way to antagonize the farmer. It wasn’t until late spring that Ryis found out why March was being so… like that. 

For all his guardedness it only takes a couple drinks to get all of March’s walls to crumble like a termite infested fence, and once they did the blacksmith was the most open book in the world. There was no such thing as secrets with drunk March, so Ryis got a front row seat as March got to rambling about the farmer once more, and it instantly became plain as day that March’s blush that night was not caused by the beer. 

Ryis couldn’t remember a time March was ever so enthralled with someone. He sat there and listed out Ryis’ thoughts verbatim about how interesting and capable the farmer was, how helpful and hardworking, and Ryis realized two things simultaneously.

One: He was developing a crush on the farmer.

And Two: He could not, under any circumstances, let it continue to grow.

When was the last time March was so enamored with anyone? When had he ever been this animated when talking about something that wasn’t made of metal? March had always been a happy drunk but this was beyond anything that Ryis had ever seen from his friend and he wanted desperately for that happiness to continue.

So he resolved himself to try and help March realize the feelings he had while he was sober as well as pushing the farmer in his direction whenever possible. It was easy for Ryis to ignore his own feelings, at first, after all the farmer hadn’t been there long and was always running around going who knows where to do who knows what. Out of sight out of mind and all that, and when they were not out of mind Ryis could always find a project to take his mind off them for a little while. And when that failed to work he could always tell himself that once their novelty wore off so too would his unfortunate crush.

And then the general store was ready to be remodeled and all that flew out the window. 

Unlike with the bridge Ryis couldn’t do the whole thing alone in a single day, and aside from his uncle (Who he loved very dearly and wanted to enjoy his retirement as much as possible) the only person qualified to help was the farmer. So the two of them set to work and Ryis tried very hard not to think about how every time their hands touched when exchanging tools a shock would go up his arm and send his heart racing, or how every so often he’d look up from his work and see them so deeply focused that he fell just a little deeper in love. 

That, he thinks, is what finally broke the dam and now when he aims the farmer in March’s direction (Because he still does, because he loves March) it is accompanied by a horrible pang in his chest that he knows he’ll never be able to get rid of. 

‘It’s fine.’ He tells himself. He’ll make do with what he can get and he’ll blame the work on why he’s so flushed every time he joins the farmer on a project and when March can finally admit to himself that he doesn’t hate them Ryis will look on as two of his favorite people can freely admit their love for eachother and it will be because of him and maybe the ache in his chest will get a little easier to live with. 

The next time he sees the farmer, Ryis wants to hide in his scarf. They’re sweaty and out of breath and he can tell why when they hand him a stack of hardwood so big he wonders how they fit it all in their bag. They smile so wide when he accepts it and their face makes him want to melt. That doesn’t stop him from inviting them to the shop, of course. After all, it's hot and he can’t move all of that himself (he can) and wouldn’t they like to sit down and cool off for a second after all that work? Really it’s the least he could do after everything they’ve done for the town (for him). 

And now they’re alone in the shop and the wood is all put away and Ryis would talk about all the projects he has planned for it except the farmer makes it really hard for him to think and of course Landen is gone and can’t distract the farmer from him so they’re just watching him stammer with those intensely beautiful eyes of theirs and Ryis realizes a little too late that he said that last part out loud. 

Mortified, Ryis looks away and it takes him a minute before he can bear to take his eyes off the pile of sawdust they landed on and return them to the farmer. The sight that greets him when he does is not what he expected; The farmer is staring at him with a sort of half-smile and did they get closer? Their face is definitely closer to his than it was when he looked away. He bashfully tells them that he’s sorry and they should probably forget what he said and after a second they say that maybe they don’t want to. Maybe they gave him all that hardwood because to them his smile is the prettiest thing in the whole town. 

And every plan Ryis ever made to play matchmaker for March goes in the trash because hearing that makes his heart stop and when the farmer kisses him it is the most right anything has ever felt. And soon they’ll have to leave because it’s late and their chickens are still outside and then Ryis will have to grapple with the fact that he just kissed the person his best friend is in love with but for now none of that matters because after a season and a half of pining and pushing his feelings down it feels like he can finally breathe. 

And as the farmer leaves, trailing promises to see him soon behind them, Ryis revels in not having to dread their next meeting any more.

[lucky-lucky-duck]

Forget You, Forget-Me-Not

A continuation based on a reply to my Vaga Snapshot post that i'm writing between cram sessions. The semester ends in 2 days and I'm dying, but it's fine. c: Everything is fine. c: I'm gonna start on the matchup in a couple days when my load lightens, this is just a late night creative outlet for stress c':

Leo Kurosagi x Vagastrom Ghoul Reader (2nd person pov and gender neutral)

Leo goes too far in an argument, and I'll fill this out tomorrow. For now, it's sad. Reader nearly gives up on braking the curse causing the people around them to slowly forget they exist. Fuck I'm tired

Morning edit - I fixed a couple of spelling mistakes, but the description made me laugh so it stays. I'm still fucking tired.

"I'm passing the phone to a No-Name NPC who is so unremarkable that the faculty evaluators actually forgot they existed."

You're ignoring him. It's been four days, and you've barely said a word to anyone, but everyone knows that Leo is somehow the culprit.

It doesn't really matter, you think with dull amusement. Sho and Alan had both been out at the time; the only witnesses to your humiliation were you, Leo, and the general students. Leo's too busy trying to bait you into argument to gloat about his win to the others, and you aren't about to tell them yourself.

The general students are a non-issue, too. Most of them struggle to remember your name most days, they're not about to suddenly start remembering gossip about you.

The thing is, you've had fights with Leo before. Hell, fighting with Leo has something of a hobby to you once you started sharing a living space with him. There's just something about him that brings out the worst in you. The vicious snake-like part, that coils up with anticipation and prepares to strike when you see Leo enter the room. You used to think of it as something that you both secretly look forward to, once the vitriol died down and your metaphorical fight-to-the-death turned into elementary-school bullying.

He's never brought up your curse like that before. It's been tit-for-tat, both of you giving just as good as you get. It's supposed to be fun.

You squash the pang of longing in your chest with snarled anger, only to be drenched in an icy kind of apathy. There are lines both of you choose not to cross these days (you were under that impression at the time, at least.), and the waning acknowledgment of your existence had definitely been one of them. Christ, you didn't exactly pour salt onto Leo's obvious abandonment wounds during these fights, did you?

"What did Leo do to you?" Sho's voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"Nothing, why do you ask?" Your voice scrapes lifelessly as you meet his eyes with a small, strained grin.

"Really? Then what, you've been moping around the dorms the past few days because you enjoy the smell of sweat and motor oil?"

"You know me, can't get enough of the ol' sugar and spice." The attempted banner falls flat as you make to slip around him and head for your dorm at the end of the hall, only to be held in place with a single strong hand on your wrist. "You ever tried shake weights?"

"Stop," he shuts down your distraction. "You know he's a rat bastard, right? You can't take what he says personally. We're going to find a way to break the curse."

So, Leo told Sho what happened after all, has he?

Sho's words slow to a stop when he notices the dead-eyes and scowl that have overtaken your forceful nonchalance from earlier.

"I wasn't lying, I'm not angry at Leo for what he said to me," Apart from the fact that you kind of are. "He wasn't exactly wrong."

"Shut up already!" You don't turn your head to look at Leo as he appears in the corridor. Figures he would listen in on a private conversation. It's probably him who sent Sho to find you in the first place. Bastards.

In the end, the choice is made for you, and a new set of hands grip your shoulders, yanking you face-to-face with the person you wanted to see least.

"Are you telling me I've been wasting my time on someone this fucking pathetic?" The words would hurt more if the expression on Leo's face were less desperate. If anyone looks pathetic here, it's him. "Of course. You would be willing to sit back and watch as you sink into irrelevance, wouldn't you? If that's what you want, fine." It's funny how adept you've become at interpreting Leo's mannerisms after all of the fighting.

For all of the accusations and insults, the only thing you see in front of you is a hissing kitty cat desperately trying to make amends in the only way it knows how. It's a shit apology, but... Leo isn't the type to put on this type of fit unless he feels threatened and cornered, and, as far as you are aware, the only threat being posed at the moment is you walking away from him.

Your bar sure has sunk low these days, yikes.

"That would probably hurt more if you weren't still gripping my shoulders like we're in a steamy novel. Do you have fantasies of pinning me down often?" You're promptly shoved away and insulted once more, free to turn back and walk back toward your dorm without sparing either boy behind you a glance.

As you prepare yourself for bed, you notice the ache in your chest loosening just enough to let you breath deeply. If just for tonight, you'll fall asleep free from the fear that tomorrow will be the day you finally wake up as a stranger.