#musing if i should try more stuff in this style hmm

[mt10lt20]

Trying something new - ACZ Galm Team in Frank Miller’s Sin City comic book style. Besides their livery fitting the neo-noir aesthetic, Cipher and Pixy are the most fitting duo for the Sin City thematic. 

A 2nd “cloudier”, Sin City movie aesthetic version is under the cut.

[crowdedimagines]

Familiar Love - Harry Styles

harry and y/n have a hard time staying out of each other’s arms, not that there’s a place they’d rather be Famous!Y/n

“Well well well.” Harry grins, opening his door wider to his home for me. 

“Why are you acting all surprised? You invited me here.” I get on my toes to steal a fast peck from him as I walk by. I walk into the living room I have grown very familiar with over the years. Harry’s London home never changes, his one taste of consistency.  

“Of course I did, we’re both in London at the same time.” 

“I know.” I roll my eyes, backing up the stairs to his room. He matches my steps evenly, pacing us like predator and prey. I slide my jacket off my shoulder, ditching it for the floor. His eyes never leave mine. If I didn’t know this house so well, I would be on my ass by now. 

“It’s been a while since this has worked out.” He presses a stolen kiss to my cheek, then another and another, “I’ve missed you.” 

“Missed me or a muse?” I bite down lightly on his earlobe, he backs me into his bedroom finally. 

“Always miss you.” 

“That’s right, you are pretty obsessed with me.” I smirk. 

“M’not obsessed with you.” He defends, finally pulling his face away from my neck. 

“Well your discography would beg to differ.” 

“Shh.” He works on the spot he knows would normally occupy my mind enough that I couldn’t banter. The spot just below my ear where my neck and jaw meet. 

“Temporary Fix, Perfect, Change Your Ticket-”

“Alright alright” Harry rolls his eyes, dimples showing up on his cheeks while he fights a smile.

“-and that’s not even counting your solo career” I tease, letting him back me onto his bed. “Only Angel, She-” 

“You’re such an ass sometimes.” He shakes his head, as if in disbelief, but his smile only grows wider. 

“What?” I scoff feigning shock, “You love my ass.” He presses a kiss to my collarbone. 

“Yes, I do. Now shut up so I can love on you for the first time in eight months.” 

-     -     -  

Harry and I were the worst and best things to ever happen to each other. We met when we were too young. My career had just started, I had a singular album to my name and was lucky to open for any band that was on a tour. Harry was a couple years into One Direction by the time we met. 

It was on a red carpet, thankfully not my first, but my first time being on the carpet for an award show that I actually had a nomination for. This was huge for me. My album had done well, but never expected a recognition like this. 

I met Niall before I met Harry. I had bumped into him walking in and he complimented my music, even claiming one of his mates ‘couldn’t get enough of it’. When he said that I wasn’t expecting him to walk me over to meet the rest of the band. Harry had been the ‘mate’ Niall had been referring to. 

I lost that night, to Ariana Grande, who in my own opinion deserved it more than me. That night didn’t feel like a loss though, because I got Harry out of it. We quickly became friends, texting, calling, facetiming any time we got the opportunity. One Direction was touring on a constant cycle, and I had just finished mine. I was in the process of writing my sophomore album, Harry flew me out and I ended up staying for the rest of the tour. 

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that we started dating, the calls and giddy smiles were enough already to clue in everyone around us. I was able to get a glimpse at the world he lived in with his stardom, and soak in every second he wasn’t on stage. It didn’t take long for fans and the public to catch on. A few too many paparazzi pictures at each concert venue to avoid. 

Both of our managements allowed us to openly date, officially coming out to everyone with PDA and everything. It was amazing. I flew back home to Los Angeles to record my second album and before I could blink I was touring it. 

Things got hard for Harry and I at that point, we could never manage to be in the same city, or get time off to visit the other. My name was quickly becoming a household one, and One Direction had yet to ever even stall in popularity. 

It broke us both completely that after three happy years together, we had to call it quits. Neither of us were ready to give up our lives and it was no longer working to never see each other. We both needed to feel loved, and on opposite ends of the planet it wasn’t enough anymore. It was only a few months after our split that One Direction went on hiatus. 

Harry and I remained close. Some would say too close. It started with just being friendly whenever we saw each other at events or things with mutual events. It took one slip up that sent us back into each other’s arms. It was a New Year's party, we agreed to be with each other, because we didn’t have anyone else to kiss at midnight. 

Once you get a taste for someone you never stopped loving, it gets pretty hard to stop. So that’s how it all began. Harry and I decided to see each other, date, love, fuck, anytime we both happened to be in the same city. It didn’t happen as often as you would think. We both still had home across the world, and varying tour schedules. We both had on and off again partners, that then the deal would be off, but neither of our partners were ever in the picture for very long. For years it went on like this. It was heartbreak all over again though, once we knew that someone had to leave. 

-     -     -

“Well, that was fun! It’s been a while, Styles.” I let out a sigh to try and gain back my breath. We practically just ran a marathon. Maybe two. He does the same, a grin plastered to his face. 

“Too long.” He tilts his head to press a kiss to my bare shoulder. 

“Well I do believe a plane works two ways.” I turn on my side to face him, my head resting in my palm. 

“Mmm, I’ve been stuck in the studio. I’ve been working on new stuff.” 

“Ooh, a new album perhaps?” 

“Yeah, it’s been a whole process trying to get all my thoughts out and sorted.” He clears his throat. 

“So why not go to Jamaica like you did for your first? A new environment that you can just throw yourself into it.” I question. 

“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like that for me. I did that because it was the first time I was doing music without One Direction. This time it’s a little more on me and how I feel.” 

We catch up for nearly an hour before we both feel gross from our previous activity and decide to take a shower. Together obviously. 

“Mum and Gem are coming over for brunch tomorrow.” He states. 

“Hmm?” I turn away from the shower head to face him again. 

“I think they’re going to be here close to 10:00.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” He places a hand on my hip, trapping me between him and the cool tile on the walls. “Never.” 

“So what do you want?” I ask, tilting my head up to fully look at him. To read every expression that crosses his face as the water pours over both of us. 

“I want you to stay. Have brunch with us.” 

“Are you sure?” I ask, pressing a kiss to his peck. 

“Yeah, if you can.”

“My fitting isn’t until 2:00 so that should give me plenty of time.” I smile, “Are you sure they aren’t going to think it’s weird that I’m there?” 

“They won’t think it’s weird. They’ll both be thrilled to see you. I swear everytime I pick up the phone they’re asking me how you’re doing.” 

“That’s funny considering how often that Gemma texts me.” I smile. 

“So you’ll stay for brunch?” 

“Mhm.” I pull him down to my height for a kiss. 

-     -     - 

“Well if it isn’t the one that got away.” Anne teases as she pulls me in for a tight hug. 

“Fuck-” Harry sighs, letting out air as if he took an actual physical hit. 

“Hi, Anne.” I laugh. 

“You just get more and more beautiful every-time I see you.” She holds my face in her hands and she studies me closely. Over the years Anne and I have only grown to be more close, even though I am no longer dating her son she still treats me as family which I can’t help but love her for. 

“Let me give her a hug!” Gemma pushes her way in and pulls me in tight against her chest. 

“Gem!” I grin. 

Harry and Anne walk into the kitchen together with Gemma and I following, arm in arm. I remember this from years ago. The Styles family would like to make brunches together every couple of weeks when they could. 

Obviously if Harry was touring or over in the States they couldn’t, but when they could they make the most of it. Everything is made from scratch, together. Nothing is decided until everyone gets there that morning. 

“How do we feel about waffles?” Gemma asks. 

“And eggs.” Harry adds. 

“And bacon.” Anne adds. 

Everyone turns to me waiting for my request. 

“And fresh fruit.” I smile. 

We all get to work and quickly become a well oiled machine. Them it’s not too surprising due to them doing this over the years, but I have to say I am able to jump in with ease. 

I cut up various fruits arranging them as beautifully as I can. A vibrant display of colors on the platter. 

“Excuse me, love.” He presses a kiss to my temple, a steadying hand at my waist as he reaches for a knife from the island. 

I prepare everyone’s drinks around the table as well considering my task went the quickest. Shortly, everyone joins me and we dig in. Everything tastes immaculate. 

We dive into conversation, the table never getting quiet for a second. Something I love so much about this family. There’s always something to be said.

“Well, I actually should be going it’s one o clock now, and I still need to drive to the other side of town.” I pick up my plate from the table. We’ve all been done eating for a while now, but the conversation kept us at the table. 

“Where are you off to?” Anne asks. 

“She’s got a fitting with Gucci.” Harry grins. 

“Wipe that smug little grin off your face.” I smack his shoulder lightly. 

“Gucci?” Gemma grins even wider than Harry did. 

“I am going to be the new face to the brand.” I smile, feeling pink raise up on my cheeks.

“For the whole company?” Gemma cheers. 

I simply nod as I grab a few other plates off of the table as I go. 

“Can I come with you?” Gemma asks, the two Styles siblings following my into the kitchen. 

“Why didn’t you act like this when I modeled for Gucci?” Harry asks, his jealous side coming out.

“Harry, you got a cologne, but she’s getting the whole company!” She huffs, “Do you know what cool clothes she’s going to be trying one?”

“I’m not getting the company!” I roll my eyes, putting the dishes in the wash. 

“You didn’t answer the question.” Gemma smirks. 

“Yes, Gem.” I laugh, “As long as you can be out the door in five minutes.” 

Gemma leaves the kitchen and goes back to tell Anne, leaving Harry and I alone. 

“You’re coming back here after, right?” He asks, trapping me against the counter. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll actually be in London for almost the entire campaign. You’re going to be sick of me soon.” I smirk. 

“Never.” 

-    -    -

“I am OBSESSED with that yellow jacket you had on!” Gemma sighs dreamily as we enter Harry’s flat several hours later. “It’s to die for!”

“Well, I can see if I can get it for you after the shoot.”

We make our way to the living room where Harry is settled in on the couch with a book. 

“An angel.” She turns to her brother, “Did you know this one is an angel?” 

“You give me too much credit.” I laugh. 

“Thanks for the reminder, Gem.” Harry chuckles. 

“Okay, now I will get out of your hair. I’ve already stolen all afternoon with you. Hopefully see you soon!” She pulls me in for a hug, “Love you.” I let Harry walk her to the door to say their goodbyes. 

Harry comes back after a few minutes and pulls me down in a hug on the couch. He lets out a deep sigh into my neck, pulling my head in even closer. 

“You okay, babe?” I ask, taking note of his obvious mood. 

“Mmm, I was just thinking while you were out.”

“And what were you thinking?” I pull back so I can get a good look at his face. It’s always been an easy way to see how he’s feeling. 

“I was just thinking that we’re both in such a better place than we were all those years ago. I don’t tour every year anymore, and I’m signed with good management that actually lets me make my own decisions.”

“What are you saying?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck and studying his face closely. 

“I’m saying that you only tour ever other year, at max. I do the same now. Why can’t we make this work for real again? We’re both more established now and have the right to chose when and where we do things. I know, we make time for each other when we’re in the same city, but there’s nothing saying we can’t be in the same city. I could live in Los Angeles full time. I could live with you. Or we could both go to New York. I don’t care, as long as we can be together.” 

“Harry, you’re sure about this? We haven’t truly been together in a long time. I love spending my time with you, truly, but I don’t want you to uproot your life just for me.” I clarify. He’s saying what I’ve wanted to hear for years, but I just want to make sure we’ve thought things through before I give either of us false hope. 

“It wouldn’t just be for you, it would be for us. I love you so much, I feel like I’m wasting time. It seems like a waste to know exactly who your soulmate is, and not do everything in your power to make it work.” 

“I love you, too.” I press a fast and passionate kiss to his lips, “Although, I do have one thing that I think we should change.”

“Anything.” He answers, his eyes all gooey and lovey making me break out in a grin. I couldn’t keep a straight face over how I’m feeling if it tried. 

“Let me move here.”

“What?” He asks shocked.

“You love London and being close to your family more than anything, I could never ask you to change that.” 

“But-”

“And I love being close to them too. If today proves anything, you are my family.”

“Let me make the move” I grin. 

“Happily.” Harry’s dimples are on full display. 

“Hey, isn’t that another song you wrote about me?” I tease.

“Oh, shut up.” He rolls his eyes, pushing me back against the couch. 

plz give me some feedback! i thought this was so cute 

[writer-ish]

φόβος, or the persistence of fear

prompt: to shower with my muse / for sex on a table/counter/desk / for our muses to try a new position + words: “make me” pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 5.3k words | rating: super E!!! (minors dni) summary: φόβος (FO-vos) Greek. “fear”. Post-Book 3 Final Demo, Mason and Grace have some trouble overcoming their individual fears.

author note: i know you said “or”, lovely @detective-sweetheart , but to my eyes you were issuing a challenge as to whether or not i could do them ALL. i didn’t quite succeed, but hopefully it doesn’t disappoint. 😘 and, uh… *side-eyes the word count* ...yeah. really should get that ao3 account up and running huh?

warning: this smutty lil fic immediately follows the end of the final demo for book 3 (bobby route) so if you don't want any inkling of what that's all about, stay away.

XX nsfw prompts

X X X X

Saying that it had been “one of those days” would not only be an insult to days but to the concept of singularity itself.

By the time they roll into the warehouse, it's just after nine-thirty in the evening. The sun has already dipped beyond the horizon almost entirely, but there remains an eerie summer glow of light that seems to permeate the atmosphere. Not quite day, not quite night, but instead some liminal moment that feels almost otherworldly. Familiar, yet not.

Grace shivers.

Mason, sitting beside her in the roomy black SUV, turns towards her as the almost-imperceptible tremor runs through her body.

She meets his gaze, taking in his expression – tight and concerned, the grey of his irises stormy and conflicted – before she feels his hand reach across her lap and cup her outer thigh, tugging her closer to him.

They wait in silence as Adam parks and the rest of Unit Bravo gets out, Felix patting her leg reassuringly from beside her before exiting on his side. Mason gets out as well and turns to her, hands now shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket.

It's Grace's turn, so she gingerly exits, the weight of the day finally revealing the toll it's taken on her body. The fifteen minutes of inactivity in the car were, apparently, all it had needed as a reminder of what she'd endured in the last sixteen hours or so. All of a sudden she feels exhausted, weighted down, frustrated, and in desperate need of a shower.

"You good?" Mason asks as they walk together towards the entrance of the warehouse, shoulders brushing, a bit behind the others.

"Just tired," she responds, rubbing her eyes wearily. "Can't wait to shower and just lie down."

"Need any help with that?" The drawled reply is rife with a familiar irreverence, but there is something heavier in his tone that makes Grace glance up.

He's looking down at her, telltale smirk on his lips. But his grey eyes are dim and there's a furrow between his brows that isn't normally there.

"Yes."

Her quick response seems to surprise him; he stops walking and turns to look at her with an inscrutable expression. She can understand why—she isn't normally so brazen when it comes to his advances and she knows he revels in her shyness sometimes. Mastering the art of getting a rise out of her, making her flustered, teasing her and watching her blush.

But this time she doesn't care if her response feels bold or unlike her. Since dawn that morning, the litany of things she'd experienced were enough emotional and physical turmoil to last a person a lifetime, never mind a period that's comprised of less than twenty-four hours.

And now she wants Mason and she wants a shower and she wants to sleep. In whatever order she can have them.

Instead of saying anything flirtatious or sarcastic, he lets his eyes roam over her face for a moment and then he just nods and drapes an arm over her shoulders, leading her inside.

Upon entering the Warehouse, they’re greeted by Adam, Nate, and Felix, who appear to have been waiting for them. All three agents turn when they see Mason and Grace walking in, and Grace feels a pang of guilt, knowing that Adam will probably want to coordinate a meeting of some sort to go over the events of the day as well as next steps.

Sure enough, he intercepts them as they attempt to walk by.

“We should be debriefing on everything that just occurred." Adam crosses his arms and peers down at Grace. "And Detective, have you gotten a hold of Agent Bennett? I can’t seem to—“

Grace opens her mouth to reply, and perhaps Mason can feel the way her body leans away from him, already attempting to gear herself up for the meeting Adam has planned for them all, because he tugs her closer and begins dragging her away, speaking over her before she has a chance to respond.

“The Detective,” he announces, forcing her to keep pace with him, “is currently unavailable."

She can feel Adam's disapproval radiating at her back and she looks up at Mason helplessly.

"Stop," he commands her, then says over his shoulder: "She's had a rough day, okay? We'll meet in the morning."

Adam grumbles his reluctant acquiescence and Felix shouts after them: "Don't forget how thin the walls are!"

Nate splutters, as Mason throws back: "They're concrete!"

Nate’s splutters turn into a groan as Felix responds: "With you two it doesn't seem to make a difference."

Grace groans as well, feeling the heat surge up into her cheeks as she buries her face in her hands. Mason just laughs and continues to drag her along.

As soon as she gets to her room, she lets him in and then closes the door firmly behind them, leaning on it heavily with a deep sigh.

Mason is already walking around the small room, inspecting the current aesthetic. When the room had been set up for her, cues had apparently been taken from her own apartment. So there’s a vibe that can definitely be considered “cozy”, like her style – long white curtains, a plethora of pillows, a down comforter – while also being weirdly unfamiliar. It’s like a Sims version of her own place in some Bizarro universe. She isn’t sure if it makes her feel more at home—or less.

“What did you bring from your place?” His voice breaks her out of her reverie and she looks at him in surprise.

“Oh, uh—” Taking a look around, her brow furrows. “Honestly, not much. After what happened this morning, I didn’t have the wherewithal to grab anything that I really needed. Thank god there’s some stuff here. But I’m going to have to go back tomorrow and sift through the damage. See what can be salvaged.” She shrugs, then to her horror, she can feel her eyes inadvertently well with tears.

“Hey, hey—” Mason is in front of her before she can blink, tilting her chin up. “What’s that for?”

“Ugh, just—” She rubs her eyes frustratedly. “What a fucking day.”

“Yeah, you’ve been through it,” he agrees, before roughly pulling her into his arms. “One for the record books.”

His arms around her provide more comfort than he could probably ever understand and she feels her whole body wilt into his strength and his heat and his scent.

“I’m so sick of days ‘for the record books’,” she mumbles into his chest and she can feel his chuckle more than she hears it.

“Why don’t we see if we can make this one a bit better, hmm?” She looks up just in time for him to capture her lips with his.

Letting out a little sigh, she twines her arms around his neck and allows him to kiss her slowly, leisurely, taking little sips from her mouth, stroking her tongue with his own, stoking a slow fire that always seems to be maintaining a low burn in his presence. She presses her body closer, enjoying the feel of her breasts against his torso, his growing hardness pressing into her stomach.

He glides his hands down her back and cups her bottom, squeezing it appreciatively, before pulling her even closer still.

Moving his mouth to her neck, his teeth glide against her pulse point, and her heart skips a little beat when she feels the sharpness of his canines against her sensitive skin.

“Relax,” he whispers, kissing her softly right in the place where his teeth had just scraped. “This isn’t where I want to taste you.”

She lets out a little whimper and brings his mouth back to hers, kissing him fiercely, feeling the points and ridges of his teeth with her tongue crowding his mouth. He pulls her tightly to him, dragging her body up so her feet leave the ground, and then he drops her backwards on the bed, his knee already down on the mattress with her, poised to pounce.

“No—” she protests and before she can blink he’s off of her and standing at the edge of the bed.

“What is it?” His voice is calm, with none of the frustration she would assume he’d be feeling in that moment.

“No, it’s just—” She pauses and glances at the door to the ensuite bathroom, teeth digging into her bottom lip. “I really need a shower, before any… tasting happens.”

He blinks and then in a flash he’s on her again, his body pressing her deep into the soft mattress.

“For what it’s worth, sweetheart,” he says, nipping at her lips, “I’ll taste you whenever, however.”

“Reassuring,” she laughs, “but trust me when I say a shower is needed.”

“Then let’s get you wet.” She laughs again with a groan, allowing him to hoist her up.

He tugs at her shirt and she raises her arms accommodatingly, allowing him to lift it up and over her head. Piece by piece, he undresses her, hands grazing her skin with each article he removes, discarding the item as quickly as it comes off her body, until she stands in front of him fully nude.

Self-consciousness at her nudity is a forgotten pastime now that she’s with Mason. It’s something about the way he looks at her —he’s always just so pleased. With her or with himself she can’t tell, but either way it does wonders for one’s self esteem.

Even now, she can almost feel the heat emanating off of him, a hungry smoulder of pure energy as his eyes roam up and down her body.

“Shower,” she squeaks, not sure who needs the reminder more.

Instead of answering, he lifts her up effortlessly, dragging her thighs around him until she can cross her ankles behind his back. She feels the fabric of his clothing rubbing every inch of bare skin it encounters – the leather of his jacket against her nipples, his jeans between her legs – and he settles her onto a dresser that she literally hadn’t even noticed before that moment.

Her breathing escalates in anticipation and yearning, waiting for wherever his mouth or his tongue or his teeth go next, but instead he remains quiet and still, before leaning forward and resting his forehead on her shoulder.

She freezes, unsure what he wants or even what she should do. And then she feels it.

A light tremor, scarcely noticeable, running through his body.

Before she can react, his arms tighten around her in a crushing hug and she instinctively hugs him back fiercely, running her hands up and down his back, pulling him closer with her legs.

“Mason,” she whispers. “What—?”

With a growl, he lifts his head and captures her mouth with his own, teeth and tongues clashing in a hungry, desperate kiss. His fingers tangle in her hair as his thumbs caress her cheekbones in a juxtaposition of rough and gentle.

She kisses him back, trying to keep up with the shift in his mood. Pulling away with a gasp, she attempts to catch his eye.

“Are you—?”

Groaning, he leans in and kisses her again, hands running over her body in frantic strokes, as though memorizing the shape of her with his palms.

When he lifts his head again, she sees the conflict in his narrowed gaze, the grey irises stormy with anger and desire and another, less discernible emotion that causes gooseflesh to rise on her bare skin.

“Just look at you.” His voice is harsh, almost angry, and her jaw slackens in surprise at his tone. He tilts away from her as he speaks and she registers the absence acutely as cool air hits bare skin that now feels on display, her legs still spread open around him.

Shyness overcomes her as she becomes truly conscious of her nudity for the first time. She makes to close her legs and he grips them tighter around his hips so she can’t move them, his eyes flicking between hers, seeking answers and absolution.

“You’re so soft, so small,” he continues, his voice still rough with shades of anger, even as his words feel hollow and almost somehow reminiscent of—grief? “This skin, this body you’re in—it’s so weak.”

“Mason!” She finds her voice finally, confusion and indignation at war with one another in her mind as she tries to coincide his expression – which can only be described as tortured – with the hurtful things he’s saying.

“How can we let you go back out there?” His voice is raw now, the anger appearing to slowly fade away, leaving him worn-out and desperate in its wake. “Unprotected? Out in the open for any fucker to grab, to take. To hurt?” He gives her a little shake and she gasps. “Huh? How?”

Understanding dawns. Yes, it had been a rough day for her. One of the worst.

But it looks as though, maybe, it had been a rough day for him, too.

Immediately, her hands begin to move of their own volition, running up his chest and over his shoulders. His whole body seems to sag, the fight draining out of him completely, and he closes his eyes, turning his head away from her.

“I have the Agency,” she murmurs as she tries to soothe him with her touch, her tone, her words. She tucks her hands under his jacket and pushes it off until it drops on the floor. Smoothing her hands back up his arms, she doesn’t stop until they cup his face. “I have them to protect me.”

She turns his head and waits until he opens his eyes, his gaze still narrowed, but with a telltale furrow in his brow.

“And I have you,” she adds, softly. “To protect me.” She pauses, watching the creases in his forehead smooth even as his eyes drift away from hers once more. “I’ll be okay.”

He reminds her now of a beast being soothed; a wolf, perhaps—hackles still up, but with the understanding that the threat has passed, for the time being, at least.

She knows not to look too much into it; loyalty is intrinsic to Mason’s being. His defence of her would be his defence of any of them.

But she kisses his brow anyway, just in case. His cheek, too, even as he stiffens in her arms.

“I’ll be okay,” she repeats, “unless I don’t get a shower in the next thirty seconds.”

His expression shifts back to a familiar one: arched brow, lips curled up on one side, white teeth showing one sharp canine. He seems almost relieved, though at what she’s not sure – the reprieve? Her unspoken forgiveness? Her assurance?

Regardless, she knows she won’t get the answers she seeks and, sure enough, he says nothing, only lifts her back into his arms and carts her off to the bathroom.

She can’t help but laugh against his neck, although her heart still thumps an erratic beat at the odd moment they’d just had.

Depositing her by the sink, he peels off his shirt, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor as he reaches inside the shower to turn on the water. He then strips out of his pants and underwear just as quickly, appearing more comfortable in his nudity than he is clothed—a fact that she’s come to realize is true.

She can’t help but take him in, flawless and muscular, a constellation of freckles across his upper body and arms. Unruly onyx waves tumble towards his shoulders and her fingers itch to run through them. His chest is covered in short, curling hairs that stretch across his pectorals and down, over his defined stomach and even further still. His prominent erection is unselfconsciously on display, flushed and waiting, apparently, for her.

Feeling the colour rise in her cheeks as she stares, she hazards a glance back up to his face.

He’s regarding her quietly, a growing smile on his lips, his gaze half-lidded and pleased.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?”

“Always,” she responds before she can lose her nerve, her face heating even more.

He chuckles softly, taking a step towards her, stroking his knuckles down her cheek. “The feeling is mutual.” He nods towards the running water. “Feel that and tell me if it’s okay.”

Hopping off the counter, she reaches her hand in. The water is scalding and she hisses out a breath, before adjusting it slightly cooler. She waits a beat until it runs at a suitable temperature on her palm and wrist. “That’s good for me. You?”

She finds herself craning her neck to look up at him. He’s standing tall in front of her, looking down without really tilting his chin. He has a half smile on his face as he watches her and she feels herself redden again under his gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” he says eventually, before crowding her until she has no choice but to take a step in.

Entering the shower fully, she allows the water to run down her back, tilting her head to wet her hair. He follows her in and runs his fingers softly down her chest, snagging on her nipples, already distended and aching.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, tracing over her lightly with his fingertips, playing and stroking. One finger circling a nipple before going down further until it grazes between her legs.

She bites back a moan as her eyes shut briefly, her palms pressing back against the cool tile of the shower for some sort of purchase.

He loops an arm around her waist and brings her to him, kissing her wetly, open-mouthed and demanding, their bare skin slipping against one another.

Swiftly, he turns her, pressing himself into the cleft of her ass. She can feel his hardness wedged deeply between her; a new sensation, but not entirely unpleasant, either. She wriggles experimentally and gasps at the titillating pressure.

“One day,” he murmurs in her ear, reading her mind, and she knows from the way he chuckles that her cheeks have gone truly red this time.

He strokes down her forearms, linking his fingers overtop hers before pressing them onto the tile so that her body is forced to tilt forward slightly. Then, he adjusts the spray of the water so it’s not hitting them directly.

“Open.” His voice is a gruff command and she can’t help but obey, her feet slipping slightly in her haste to spread her legs.

She feels his hand course over her wet skin, erection still pressed against her bottom, as his fingers move across her, teasing and playing, until they settle into the warm, liquid centre of her.

She lets out a protracted moan, her legs shaking, the relief of finally having him touch her right where she needs him to almost more than she can bear.

He strokes her masterfully, a finger delving into the wetness her body is producing just for him, for his touch, and then circling at the apex of her thighs. Her clit throbs with his attention and she can’t help but cry out as he applies steady continuous pressure. The shaking in her legs increases and his body presses against her even tighter, his other hand coming up to cup her breast, thumb strumming her nipple at the same pace as his other finger works her clit.

“I want you to come,” his voice grinds out next to her ear. “I want you to come all over my hand. I can already feel you dripping all over me, all over yourself. Let go, sweetheart.” He bites her neck lightly and she feels the sharp prick of his fangs on her sensitive flesh. “Let go.”

The pain and pleasure intertwine into a blinding flash of white light, her body convulsing as she cries out, her shout echoing throughout the small room. Her legs give way and he holds her steady against him, his arm the only barrier between her and the tiles.

She comes down slowly from her climax, her shaky breath echoing around them, trembling fingers still scrabbling for purchase on the wet tiled walls of the shower.

Before she can fully catch her breath, he turns her around wordlessly and crushes his mouth to hers again. She matches his fervour, opening her mouth and allowing him to consume her. Their kisses feel hungry, desperate, and she whimpers against his lips. Tightening his hold, he lifts her up into his arms, pressing her against the cool tiles. She can feel his hands splayed across her back, cushioning the impact, and she tightens her legs to draw him closer.

His erection is notched between her legs, stroking hotly up and down the teeming wetness there, both from the shower streaming between them and also, she knows, from her own body’s response to him, his nearness, and the promise of what’s to come.

She reaches between them and grips him, running her hand up and down his length as he tilts his head back and groans.

“Jesus, Gracie,” he bites off, and she can feel his fingers digging into her where they rest on her upper and lower back. “You gotta stop that, sweetheart, before I—”

“Make me,” she teases, revelling in these small, rare moments where she has the upper hand.

His head snaps up and she feels her heart skip a beat at the expression on his face, those silvery irises as thin as crescent moons against the deep black of his dilated pupils. His lips curl in a familiar smirk as he bounces her up higher in his arms. Laughing in surprise, she loses her grip on him and has to put her arms around his neck instead for balance.

At the new height he has her, she can feel the tip of his cock nudging into her liquid centre.

She lets out a breath that extends into a moan, feeling him enter her as she opens for him further. He holds her steady, hands cupping her ass as he guides her down, then back up, then down again, allowing her body time to accommodate him comfortably.

“Oh,” she whimpers, the sensation almost too much for her to bear. “I can’t—I’ve never—”

“Shhh.” He shifts and one hand goes to the back of her neck, drawing her head down his shoulder, while his other arm grips her around her hips. “I got you.”

Slowly, slowly he thrusts and pulls back, thrusts and pulls back, shallow and fluid movements, her body giving and giving some more, until he holds her tightly against him, their pelvises notched together, him fully seated within her.

There is never a moment in which she feels so vulnerable as the moment when they’re connected like this. Her body trembles with emotion, the full weight of the day finally crashing down on her. She tightens her thighs against his hips and her arms around his neck, tilting her head to kiss his wet, freckled shoulder, neck and jaw, happy that the steady stream of water from the showerhead prevents him from noticing the tears streaking down her cheeks.

She can’t do this right now, she can’t allow herself to succumb to this moment, these feelings, because if she does, she’s going to say something she regrets. Something that will ruin everything.

So she distracts herself with the physicality of what they’re doing and with the pressing need for release.

“Move,” she begs with a sob that hopefully he believes is impassioned rather than emotional. She rocks her hips against him, needing the moment to end just as much as she needs it to last forever.

He quickly and silently obeys, using her body to create a rhythm that matches his own, crowding her against the corner of the shower, holding her securely in his arms. She can feel his heart pounding against her body and without thinking, she digs her teeth into the soft skin where his neck meets shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood but certainly enough to leave a mark.

The sudden action, fierce and uncharacteristic of her, almost possessive in its intensity, clearly surprises him. His hips stutter against hers and his hands grip her tightly—so tightly that she knows she’ll be seeing the bruises in the morning. He lets out a hoarse shout and she can feel his release inside her and that’s all it takes to send her hurtling over the edge with him. Letting out a cry that matches his, she rides the wave of her own climax, her body holding tightly to his, inside and out.

They stay like that for a beat, hearts pounding, Grace’s breath echoing shakily against the tiles. Gently, Mason disentangles her from him and sets her down, still holding her against him firmly. He strokes her back until she can get her breathing and pulse under control.

Once she’s steady, he pulls away from her. She inadvertently lets out a whimper as the water, now lukewarm, causes goosebumps to rise on her skin, the heat from his body too tempting to be taken from her. She has no reason to be concerned, however, because he’s back on her almost immediately, this time with a soft, soapy cloth in his hand that he begins to wash with her with.

Long, languid strokes down her back, her arms, the backs of her legs. Gently between her legs as he washes away the intermingled essence of what they’ve just done, rinsing and rewashing, in light, soft strokes.

She allows him his ministrations, feeling sleepier and more languorous by the moment, enjoying the feel of him caring for her. She registers that the soap has a light scent, inoffensive to her own nostrils, but she can’t help but wonder if it bothers him.

Reaching up lazily, with an arm that feels sluggish and heavier than usual, she brushes the damp hair back from his forehead.

“The soap—?” she tries, taking the wash cloth from him and allowing it to drop between them. She steps back slightly and rinses herself with the water streaming down.

“It’s fine.” He shrugs. “I can only smell you.”

“Me—?” She realizes belatedly he means her arousal, and the evidence of their union, and her face flares up with heat once more. His smirk turns into a full fledged grin.

“Oh, sweetheart, if I could make you blush like that forever, I’d be one lucky son of a bitch.”

The word forever seems to hang between them and the smile drops quickly from his face at her sharp intake of breath.

“Turn around,” he says gruffly and she obeys quickly, reluctant to allow the moment to be shattered completely.

She hears the sound of another liquid dispenser and the telltale coconut scent of her favourite shampoo fills the humid space – when the Agency does something, they really do it right, she thinks, impressed and a little weirded out – before she feels Mason’s hands in her hair.

If she’d expected impatience or roughness from him in this endeavour, she’s pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong. For all his brusqueness and usual lack of desire to perform acts of service for others – outside those related to sexual pleasure – he takes his time with her hair, leisurely massaging in the shampoo, fingertips expertly pressing into her scalp and lathering the wet strands.

She tilts her head back and closes her eyes, a hum of pleasure escaping her lips. The warm water streams over her body and she’s convinced she’d be able to fall asleep standing if she let herself.

After a few more moments of quiet bliss, Mason places his hands on her shoulders and turns her back around. He gently tilts her chin up until the water is streaming over her hair now and she brings her own hands up to assist in rinsing out all the shampoo.

As she gets the shampoo out of her hair, his hands idly tease and caress her, his fingers running over her body once more in light strokes. The touch doesn’t seem to be intended to reignite anything; instead, it appears to be for the simple pleasure of just touching her.

They’re both quiet, the need or the desire to speak seemingly sapped out of them, and she allows him his touches, until all the soap is out of her hair and off her body. Then, she languidly opens her eyes and just watches him—watches how his eyes follow his hands as they move over her body, tracing her with his gaze as well as his fingers.

“Your turn?” she asks, finally, her voice a quiet echo in the small space.

He shakes his head and gathers her close to him, kissing her soundly on the mouth. “I’m good. Ready to come out?”

Instead of answering, she wraps her arms around his neck, stroking down his back and into his damp hair, the unruly waves curling around her fingers more than usual. She kisses him again, then nods against his lips, her eyes dropping closed of their own volition.

The rest is a blur. She feels him towel her off, remaining completely boneless the entire time and succumbing to his ministrations with nary a physical protest. He must dry himself as well, but who knows, because next thing she feels is him carrying her to her bed. She snuggles even more securely into his arms and she can swear she registers his lips against her forehead.

When he settles her on top of the covers she doesn’t even bother to do anything except burrow herself underneath them, still naked, hair frizzing and damp.

Her eyes are still closed, but she knows he hasn’t left, can feel him like a physical ache. Hovering but not touching or sitting. She doesn’t know if he’s in the process of dressing or stark naked. Doesn’t know if his intent is to stay or to go.

The need to keep her feelings inside, to not...ruin things, or push him away, is so, so strong. She could ask him to stay and he could go anyway, taking her heart with him. She could stay silent and wait for him to make his own decision, knowing the outcome would likely be the same.

As she wars with herself, feeling time ticking past, feeling him slowly slipping away, an image arises in her mind unbidden.

It’s his eyes.

She thinks of how they’d looked that morning, clouded with worry and not a hint of lasciviousness, even though she knew she’d been about ninety-nine percent see-through as she’d squelched up the drive.

How they’d looked when he’d apologized to her for his harsh words at Haley’s the other day, contrite and a little bit confused.

The way they’d held anger and, more than that, hurt when Bobby had spoken about kissing her.

And then she thinks about the look she’d seen in them as they’d all been overrun by Trappers and, immediately afterwards, as she had faced certain kidnapping by a supernatural he knew he could not defend her from.

He’d been terrified.

Those storm-grey irises, so familiar and already so dear, had been filled with abject terror and fear.

Fear for her.

The images fade as she hears him rustling, collecting his things.

She thinks again about how he’d been scared for her. Scared of losing her.

She’s scared, too.

She’s scared that all of this might be for naught. That she’ll fall deeper and deeper in love and he’ll soon be looking for a way out.

But tonight isn’t for fears, she decides. Tonight, they’re safe. Tonight, they’re together.

Tonight, he's hers.

“Mason?” Her eyes remain closed, but she hears his movements stop. She lets out a shaky breath, releasing the final bit of her trepidation, before speaking with conviction:

“I want you to stay.”

X X X X

👀 tags: @utterlyinevitable , @ethansramsey , @otherworldlypresents , @worldoffandoms , @raleighcarrera , @ejunkiet , @starrystarrytrouble , @terrm9 , @openheartthot , @octobereighth , @campsearchlight , @coldshrugs , @kelseaaa , @homeformyheart , @intothestrawberryjar , @magebastard , @kodysteach , @newfangledsoul , @silma-words , @lalizah , @detective-sweetheart , @lem-20 , @ifshebreathes-shesathot , @takemyopenheart , @v2itbwstct (if you want to be added/no longer want to be tagged, pls let me know!)

[nayarablueglasses]

requested for: no

a/n: idk i wrote this for my HLATS so it’s weird. hope you enjoy! @thedevilsdaywear​ and you said i wasn’t organized smh also serious apologies for not actually making my promised content in ages. feel free to send in asks! i can almost promise you that as long as it fits my requirements, i’ll be sure to write it! i never have asks, so it means a lot when i get one.

(divider credits to @firefly-graphics​)

summary: you, iwaizumi, and oikawa are in the student council and join in on a meeting.

warning/genre: man idek, there’s mentions of oikawa not being interested in girls, you’re in a poly relationship w/ iwaizumi+oikawa, iwaizumi calls oikawa “prettyboy,” I JUST REALIZED I MADE TAKEDA THE SCHOOL COMMITTEE CLUB COUNCILLOR SO UH I GUESS I ACCIDENTALLY MADE HIM HAVE CONFIDENCE AND A SECOND JOB, THAT’S IT???

reader pronouns: not mentioned/gender neutral

“Making the schoolyard more interesting? Prettykawa, what are you talking about?” Hajime shook his head at Tooru, who had just joined me and Hajime in waiting for the school council’s club councilor- Takeda Ittetsu- to come unlock the clubroom doors.

“No, come to think of it, didn’t Takeda-sensei mention something about having a new project to ‘improve the school’ last meeting, didn’t he?” I rubbed my head, trying to recall the exact words he’d used. “I think he said…”

Takeda’s voice came from behind us “‘We might try a new beneficial school activity tomorrow!’” Turning, we could see Takeda standing with his hands on his hips, smile on his face. “Hope you weren’t waiting long!” Walking past us after greeting us cheerfully to unlock the door. By now, the rest of the school council had amassed around us, and we filed into the council room after the rest had passed.

Tooru held a cocky look on his face- until Hajime smacked him on the back of his head. “Just because you were right about that doesn’t mean you should suddenly have a look like that on your face!”

“Mean Iwa-chan!” Tooru whined. Still, he sat down to my left, musing up my hair and threw a playful glare at Hajime, who sat to his left. Irritatedly, I sent him a harsh look and tried to return my hair to it’s (admittedly already messy) original state, muttering profanities under my breath. My attention returned to Takeda, however, when he stood up from his seat and clapped his hands.

“I have a proposal for you all!” He announced to the room.

Tooru scoffed, leaning down to my ear to whisper, “If he was planning on getting back up this whole time, why’d he sit down? Besides, he’s the club councillor, if he says something then it goes. Doesn’t he know that?”

I whispered back, “Shut up! You know he’s new at this. And anyways, you should appreciate your elders and teachers who also respect your opinions.” Hajime caught my eyes, ears practically picking up when he realized we were gossiping.

In classic Hajime style, he hit us both on the back of our heads. “Pay attention!” Ow. I’d be sure to get Tooru and Hajime back for that later.

Attention once directed back to Takeda, we realized the room was staring at us. Tooru sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, already making the girls in the class start swooning. I rolled my eyes. Sure, he put on a prettyboy popular persona, but when was his fanclub going to realize he wasn’t into girls like that?

“Well, what do you two think?” Takeda asked me and Tooru, confident in thinking we hadn’t heard him. Hajime snickered beside me.

“Uh... cleaning up the schoolyard sounds fun, but what if we... added stuff? To make it more interesting?” I tried answering with what Tooru had mentioned earlier- to which Tooru looked at me offended.

Takeda smiled. “Excellent idea! Why don’t we brainstorm what we could do to make the schoolyards more interesting?”

Immediately, the entire clubroom was echoing with noise, everybody shouting out ideas. Tooru flinched at the noise, but otherwise maintained his cool. He did, though, shoot me a look that very clearly said “I”m going to kill you for dragging me into this club.” I just responded with a nonchalant shoulder shrug and pointed at Hajime, to say, “Don’t blame me! Blame your boyfriend.” which would be hilarious when I explained what I meant to Tooru later, because the three of us were dating.

Pretty quickly, Takeda had calmed down the council members and brought out the “talking stick,” for us all to make suggestions with. Luckily, he gave it to Hajime first. Hajime was always the one with the good ideas. “What about a fountain?” Except that one.

“You dumbass! How would we get the money for a fountain!” Tooru teased.

Hajime threw the stick at his head. “If your ideas are any better, then YOU have the talking stick!” Which was, of course, what Tooru had wanted all along. Hajime and his hot head...

Tooru weaved the stick in and out of his fingers, pretending to muse over his options. Then, he said, “I’ve got it! How about a snack stand! And we’ll sell milkbread! Hmm, what do you think about that?” He rested the stick against his lips, smiling. The others in the club looked uncertain.

I snatched the stick out of his hands. “And you called Hajime-kun a dumbass? Where are we going to get the money for milkbread, idiot? It’ll go bad before we even sell it! Don’t we already sell milkbread in the snack machine?”

He stuck his tongue out at me. “Alright, well, what’s your bright idea consist of, huh?”

“Secrets! Secrets! You don’t get to know my idea!” I cried, making Hajime laugh.

“He’s got you there, Prettykawa. You don’t get to know his idea if he doesn’t tell you.” Laughing as he pat Tooru’s back. Tooru looked put out, but we’d been going on and hogging the talking stick for so long that the bell rang almost immediately after that.

We jumped out of our seats, Tooru dragging me and Hajime along. “Come on, let’s go get milkbread from the vending machine!”

“Dumbass! Slow down!”

[bitter-sweet-farmgirl]

Friends

OH MY GOSH DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT’S BEEN SINCE I WROTE FOR FILI?!!??!  TOO LONG.  I enjoyed every second of his Fee-Fluff.  Although, I actually kept trying to put ‘Kili’ instead of ‘Fili’...  I think I need to write for Fili more or Kili is trying to tell me something  Also, I was SO SO SO tempted to use one of Arwen’s lines in here...  But I didn’t. You’ll know the scene when you come to it though... ;)

Fluff about friend-zoning and Fili working up the nerve to tell a special lass he likes her.

Tags:  @elvish-sky @kumqu4t @ladylouoflothlorien​

MASTERLIST

OC(s) Used:  Loka

Word Count:  2,177

Translation(s):  Surprisingly, none

Warning(s):  None.  Just fluff!

~~~~

"It's time to end this, once and for all."  Kili declared suddenly as he sat next to me in the library; head propped up on his palms.  I glanced up sharply from the thick tome I was currently pouring over.

"What?"  I asked, not sure if I had heard him right.  

"I said, it's time to end this once and for all.  I'm sick of watching you pine after Fili."  He repeated, adding some clarification to his words.

I let out a sigh, grabbing the ribbon I was using as a bookmark and placing it in the book to mark my spot.  Something told me I wouldn't be returning to it for awhile.  "What are you even talking about, Kili?  I don't pine after Fili."  I said, and Kili smirked.

"Uh huh.  I've counted you watching him 178 different times in the past three days.  Explain that."  He said, prompting a faint blush to appear on my cheeks.

And I thought I hadn't been that obvious...  Hmm, perhaps it was time to be a bit more--

"That's what I thought."  Kili's confidence-loaded voice broke through my thoughts, and I looked up to see him grinning knowingly at me.  "You fancy him, don't you?"

I gave Kili a confused look, trying to buy myself time.  "Fancy who?"  

Kili threw up his hands in a show of exasperation.  "Fili.  My brother.  The one who's always watching you."  He said in much too loud of a voice, and I motioned at him to be quiet.  I didn't need this to be the new rumor circling Erebor.

Mahal, how embarrassing would that be?

But his words puzzled me; the way that they implied that Fili---no, surely not.  It was too good to be true.

Footsteps sounded behind me, interrupting my musings, and Kili winked at me, grinning mischievously.  "Who fancies who?"  A deep, gentle voice asked behind me as broad hands came down to rest upon my shoulders.  

Speak of the devil...

"I was just talking to Loka here about a lad from the Iron Mountains.  She thought he was quite fetching."  Kili piped up suddenly, and I shot him a glare.  The nerve of him...

Fili's hands tightened on my shoulders, and I fidgeted a bit in discomfort.  "Hey, be careful about squeezing me too hard.  I'm not iron."  I muttered, and Fili's hands disappeared in an instant as he came around to stand beside me.

"Sorry, Loka."  He said, but his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.  Those beautiful blue eyes of his had a faraway gaze.

Kili kicked my shin underneath the table, and I turned to him with a stifled yelp of pain.  "What the hell was that for?"  I hissed, glaring furiously at the insolent Prince.  

You were staring again.  He mouthed with a cheeky look on his face.  I just gave him a disgusted look and turned my gaze back down to the book I had so reluctantly vacated.

"If you'll excuse me, I've got some things to take care of."  I said, breaking the silence that had fallen over us as soon as Fili approached.  

Before either of them could protest, I gathered up my stuff from the library table and hurried out of Erebor's royal library.  Maybe I could finally finish the tales of Númenor in the comfort of my own room?

~~~~

"Loka!"  A sharp cry of my name had me halting in my tracks as I walked through the halls of Erebor.  Turning around, I was surprised to see Fili jogging towards me; decked out in full royal garb.

"Prince Fili?"  I asked, fidgeting with the bundle of fabric in my arms.  A grimace flashed across Fili's face at my use of his title.

"How many times have I told you that you don't need to call me by that...?"  He groaned, and I gave him an apologetic smile.

"Obviously not enough times; but I kinda have to call you by that since you are the Crown Prince after all."  I said, but Fili just shook his head.

"Forget etiquette for once, Loka."  He said, giving me a pleading look that awoke butterflies in my stomach.  

Nodding, I smiled at him.  "If that's what you command...  But anyways, why did you stop me?"  I asked curiously, and Fili shuffled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his rapidly reddening neck as he turned his gaze to the floor.

"Uh..."  He was suddenly at a loss for words, and I watched this with a incredulous look.  Never before had I seen Fili look so...  nervous.

"Fee?"  I called softly, using Fili's childhood nickname.  

"Would you like to go to the ball with me?"  He suddenly said; words rushing out in a jumbled hurry that left me speechless for a moment as I processed them.

"The ball that's happening in about four days?"  I asked, and Fili nodded quickly.

"Aye, that one.  Would you like to go with me?"  

Disappointment welled in my stomach as I looked at the hopeful expression on his bearded features.  "I would love to--"  I began, and Fili's face broke out in a wide smile.

"Tha-that's great!"  He said excitedly, but I raised a hand to stop him.

"You didn't let me finish.  I would love to go with you, but I'm already going with someone."  I said, and the smile was wiped off Fili's face, only to be replaced with a furrowed look that didn't belong anywhere on his handsome features.  "I'm so sorry, Fili."  I whispered, but Fili was quick to shake his head.

"No, no, I should be sorry for bothering you.  It's no big deal Loka, I just thought...  Who are you going with?"  He asked, quickly switching topics.

An image of a dark-haired Dwarrow--the exact opposite of Fili in so many different ways--popped into my head.  "Maglorian.  One of Dain's ambassadors."  I said quietly, forcing a bright smile onto my face.

Fili nodded, a dark shadow passing over his face at the mention of the name.  "I've heard of him; he's very nice."  He said, giving me a smile that was so obviously fake it hurt.  "Well, save a dance for me maybe?"  

I nodded quickly, trying to find a way to lift this black cloud that had suddenly settled over Fili.  "Of course!  I'll always have a dance for you, Fee."  I said softly, and a smile flickered across his lips.

"See you around, Loka."  He murmured, turning and walking past me down the hallway.  I watched him go, noting the way his shoulders were slumped in a picture of disappointment.  But why?  Surely he hadn't wanted to go that badly with me?  Hadn't his question just been a friend asking a friend so they didn't have to go alone?

Shaking my head, I continued on my way to the Palace seamstress.  My dress needed some alterations to fit the current styles of King Thorin's court, and I hadn't had time before now to deliver it to her.

~~~~

The day of the ball had finally arrived, but something just seemed wrong.  Maglorian was very polite and nice, but not even his gracious manners could bring a genuine smile to my face.

I tried--I really did--to keep my attention on him, but I couldn't help sneaking glances towards the dour Fili.  Mahal, I'd never seen him look so hurt before.

"Miss Loka, would you like something to drink?"  Maglorian's cultured tones had me looking away from where Fili stood beside Kili and Thorin; watching the festivities.  

Forcing a smile, I nodded sweetly.  "That sounds lovely, thank you Maglorian."  I said, and he smiled back, heading away from me towards the refreshments.  

Breathing out a sigh, I returned my gaze towards the trio of royals, only to notice that one was missing.  

Kili.

Glancing around the crowded ballroom, I tried to spot the dark-haired Prince in case he attempted to pull a prank on me or something.  I wouldn't put it past him.

"Fancy a dance, my lady?"  A cheeky voice said from right beside me, and I whirled around to find Kili standing in front of me.  

Rolling my eyes, I accepted his proffered hand.  "I suppose, if only to get away from the ambassador and his manners for a moment."  I said, prompting a laugh from Kili.

"He's that bad, huh?  I thought you said he was handsome."  

"He's handsome in his own way, but he just oozes 'proper etiquette'.  It's enough to make any lass sick."  I grumbled, placing on hand on Kili's shoulder as he settled a hand on my waist.  The music had turned to a slower waltz that was perfect for talking.

Kili chuckled, grinning down at me.  "Perfect."  

His words had me looking up at him in bewilderment as he suddenly spun me away from him and into someone else's arms.  For a moment, I thought it was Maglorian and I went to pull away.

"I thought you said you'd save me a dance?  Did you change your mind?"  A familiar voice asked teasingly, and I realized Fili was the one with an arm around my waist.

Blushing, I looked up at Fili with a sheepish smile on my face.  "I thought you were Maglorian...  You are welcome to as many dances as you wish to claim."  I said, quickly adjusting my grip so that one hand was held in Fili's while the other rested on his broad shoulder.

Fili raised an eyebrow.  "So you don't like that ambassador then?"  He asked quietly, and I shook my head.

"Of course not...  He's just a nice guy that I thought would be fun to go to the ball with."  I said, understanding suddenly dawning on me.  "Wait, you thought that me and him were serious or something?"

Pink began to tinge Fili's cheeks, and he looked away from me.  "Well..."  

"You're jealous of him!  Are you afraid he'd steal your friend away from you?"  I teased, laughing at the thought even as my heart sank.

Friends, always friends.  But I'd have to content myself with that.  He'd never see me as something more.

"No."  Fili's voice was uncharacteristically hard and I scanned his face worriedly.  "I wasn't afraid that he'd steal my friend...."  He trailed off and let out a sigh, raising his head to look around at the other dancers around us.  "I--just come outside with me for a moment.  I'll explain."  He said suddenly, dropping his hand from my waist to lead me towards the doors out to the hallway.

I followed obligingly, wondering what he was going to explain.  What did he even have to explain?

Once we were finally alone out in the deserted hallway, Fili grabbed my hands and looked down at me with a searching expression in his crystal blue eyes.  "I don't know why it's so hard to say...  I've never been so afraid of something before..."  He muttered, and I looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"Fee?"  I prodded, and he took a deep breath, ducking his head for a moment before looking back up at me.  "I was jealous of that Dwarrow, yeah, but not for the reasons you think."  He whispered, and my eyes widened slightly.  

Was he going to say what I thought he was going to say?  

"I thought that he was going to steal away the heart of the lass who stole mine."  He said quietly, looking at me with such a vulnerable expression in his eyes, it brought tears to mine.  "It's alright if you don't feel the same, Loka, I'll get over it eventually."  He muttered as I stared at him in disbelief.

"No!"  I exclaimed, and Fili watched me apprehensively.  "Don't get over me, please.  I love you."  I whispered hoarsely, and Fili scanned my face closely, looking for any hint of a lie.

"Loka..."  He murmured in a low voice, raising trembling hands to gently cup my face,  "I feel like I'm dreaming."  

I smiled at him, closing the space between us until I was held close between his arms.  "Then we're sharing the same dream."  I whispered, tilting my head upwards as he leaned down to slant his lips over mine; his golden locks falling like a curtain over both our faces.

"Oh Mahal, finally!  I thought I'd have to lock you two in a closet somewhere!"  

Fili reluctantly pulled away from me with a sigh, turning his head to look at a grinning Kili leaning against a pillar nearby.  "Do you mind?"  He said with a raised eyebrow, and Kili raised his hands in a show of surrender.

"Sorry...  Just keep in mind that Uncle is going to be looking for you soon, so don't get too cozy together..."  He said, winking suggestively.  

"Kili..."  Fili growled, but a red flush was spreading up his neck.  "Don't make me--"

"I'm going!  I'm going!"  

With that, Kili disappeared back into the festivities, leaving me and Fili alone once more.  

Looking back down at me, Fili gave me a roguish smile.  "Now, where were we...?"

[nalgenewhore]

masterlist - ao3 - last chapter - next chapter

☽ ☼ ☾

six years ago.

“I so am not going,” Elide shouted, gripping the slats of her headboard as her roommate pulled on her ankles. “I was at the shop all day, I’m tired.” 

“Elide Lochan, get your bodacious bod out of bed and into something spooky,” Aelin commanded, bracing a high-heeled foot against the sideboard. “Get. Up. Now.” Elide groaned and flipped onto her back, blowing her bangs up with a huffed breath. They glared at each other, neither backing down. Aelin clicked her tongue, “Come on, it’s Samhain!”

“All the more reason not to go,” the dark haired girl said, crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s the sabbath - I will not go to your blasphemous boyfriend’s blasphemous party.” 

“You know you love Ro-Ro. And c’mon,” Aelin whined, not above stomping her foot like a petulant child, “it’ll be fun!” 

She sighed loudly and flicked her eyes upwards, “Fine. I’ll go.” Elide pushed herself to sitting and stood up. Aelin clapped her hands and collapsed onto the mattress as Elide slunk to her closet and flung the doors open. “I think… goth Barbie. Yes, no?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” her friend agreed, lounging about as Elide perused her wardrobe.

First, she pulled out her patch jeans. Not tonight. She looked at a corset dress and hummed, her head tilted to the side, “Maybe…” Elide unhooked a PVC pencil skirt and spun to Aelin, “Thoughts?” 

Aelin propped herself up on her elbows, her brilliant eyes narrowed in scrutiny, “Ooh, with your new corset and the red top with the sleeves?” She made a vague gesture to represent the long sleeves. “Oh, wait, let me get you some shoes. I have the perfect boots.” Her long hair was a flash of gold as she launched herself up and out of Elide’s room. 

Elide tossed her outfit onto her now vacated bed and sat at her vanity, fluffing her layered pixie-shag hair cut. She plugged in her hair straightener and as she waited for it to heat, she started on her make-up. 

When the door was slammed open, Elide held her finger up. She filled in her wicked sharp eyeliner and used the tip of her ring finger to smudge some along her lower lash line. Then she stood up and turned, eyes landing on the red patent leather ankle boots. “Are those them?” 

“Mm-hmm, how perfect are they,” Aelin asked, passing them to Elide. “I’ve been meaning to give these to you - they’re too small for me.” 

“Ae, these are gorgeous,” Elide gushed, picking one up and running her fingers over it. “They’re beautiful, are you sure?” She hugged it to her chest, softly petting it. 

Brilliant laughter spilled from Aelin’s glossy lips, “Yes, take them, please. I never wear them, I only bought them ‘cause they were, like, seventy-five percent off.” 

“Oh, I love love love you,” Elide sang. She picked up her phone and opened her music, choosing a playlist at random. Her hips swayed to the bouncing beat of I’m Gonna Love You Too and Aelin laughed, singing along and dancing around. 

Elide picked up her straightening iron and held it like a microphone, dramatically reaching towards her roommate, “You’re gonna say you’ve a-missed me, you’re gonna say you’ll a-kiss me…”

“Yes, you’re gonna say you’ll a-love me, ‘cause I’m a-gonna love you too,” Aelin sang, shimmying her shoulders. 

Elide sat and hummed as she revamped her layers, curling them upwards into horn-like wisps. She clicked the straightener off and stood up, laughing and joking with Aelin as she got dressed. Once the underbust corset belt was snug and tied, Elide zipped her skirt up and smoothed any fussy wrinkles away. She twirled and popped her hand on her hip, “Well?” 

Aelin studied her. Then she stood up and plucked the toy tiara Elide had once used in a costume and put it on her head. “There.” 

Elide turned around and looked at herself in the mirror, fixing the tiara. “And now?”

“Be still, my foolish heart,” Aelin proclaimed, tapping her hand over her chest in an imitation of her beating heart. “You look absolutely ravishing, darling girl.” 

Elide smiled and held her hand out, “Shall we? It’d be rude of the host’s girlfriend to be late.” 

Aelin slung her arm around Elide’s waist and pulled her towards the door, “I thought I told you already, I’m never late. Everyone else is simply early.” 

“Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten?” 

“I haven’t the faintest idea, Elide,” she sniffed, primly turning her nose up. “Everyone should listen to what I say all the time. How else will the world turn round right?” 

“You are my favourite person in the world, golden girl,” Elide laughed. 

“I better be, I put a roof over your head and booze in your stomach.” 

Elide laughed again and unscrewed the lid off the vodka bottle, pouring them both generous shots in the bottom of two random glasses. She passed Aelin hers and lofted her own, “To…?”  

“Being, young, wicked smart, fucking hot and having zero responsibilities!” 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

As he walked up the pathway to the creaking, booming house, he could feel countless sets of eyes burning into him. He rolled his shoulders and resisted the urge to glare at those staring. Honestly, he should’ve been used to it by now. It was either his height, his hip-length hair in a loose braid, or his… aggressive wardrobe. 

Fenrys, the little shit, told him it was because of the frown on his face, but Lorcan didn’t believe him. He never had a shortage of offers, from whomever he so wanted and so chose. He thought it was because people considered him to be a challenge, a lost and wandering soul to tether. 

Lorcan was just genuinely disinterested. That twelfth grade pipsqueak didn’t know what he was talking about. Lorcan regretted the day he ever agreed to let the high schooler’s band play a show at the club. The boy fell in love every single day with a new person. 

Almost as if he had summoned him, someone familiar crashed into his back, lanky legs wrapping around his torso and reedy arms locking around his neck. Lorcan groaned and shook the kid off, “Fen, fuck off. Go home, you have school tomorrow.” 

The dark-skinned boy hopped around to face him, a maniacal grin splitting his face in two, “No, sir, I got a pro-D day tomorrow. I’m up all night, all night, boy!” Fenrys howled and Lorcan shook his head at him, muttering something rude. Fenrys slung his arm around Lorcan’s waist, “Say, what are you doing here, Lor? I didn’t think the law students let anarchists in their fêtes, as it were.” 

“See, my plan is to stay until they toss me out on my ass. I think I’m pretty unnoticeable, yeah?” 

Fenrys laughed and slapped Lorcan’s back, over his patch jacket, “Yeah, thank the gods that you don’t have a huge red ‘A’ on the back of your coat or whatever.” Lorcan snorted. “I mean, you’re not all master of disguise like me.”

Lorcan eyed the spikes Fenrys had styled his kinky, dense hair into and chose not to comment. “How was your show tonight?” 

“Dude!” Fenrys shouted, “It was crazy. I thought my arms would fall off.” 

The boy started imitating playing the drums, violently, and Lorcan shook his head, “Come on, kid, let’s go.” He slung his arm across Fenrys’ shoulders and steered the drummer into the kitchen. Under the lights, Lorcan saw a flash of silver-blond hair, “Look, there’s Rowan, go talk to him.” 

“Yo, Whitethorn,” Fenrys yelled, his hands cupped around his mouth. Lorcan rubbed his eyes, muttering something. Rowan turned around and smiled, lifting his hand to wave. He grabbed something and made his way over to them. 

“Hey, man,” Lorcan said. 

“Hey, guys, thanks for coming,” Rowan said, passing Lorcan a can of beer. “You just get here?” 

“Yeah,” Lorcan said, “I had some stuff for class and Fen had a show.” 

Rowan nodded, “Oh, you know what, you should tell me when your next show is so I can come.” He looked so eager, so earnest, Lorcan almost felt bad for him. 

Fenrys roared with laughter and cuffed Rowan’s shoulder, “That’s fuckin’ funny, man, I’m going to go see if I can find Ashryver.” He departed, his head bopping to the beat of the music. 

Rowan turned to Lorcan, his brows furrowed, “Funny? Why?” 

Lorcan pressed his lips together to avoid smiling, “I think that Fenrys is saying that his music… it isn’t really your style, ya dig? It’s very nice of you to support him, but c’mon, Rowan. You went to one show last year and were scared to touch anything. Now we have to go find Fen ‘cause I’m not dropping him off at home wasted again. Emrys will beat me to death and cook me.”

His silver-haired friend laughed and they walked to where they could see Fenrys’ bleached-blond liberty spikes sticking above everyone else’s head. He was standing at one end of a ping-pong table, opposite two stunning women. The dark-haired one caught Lorcan’s eye and he stared for a moment, trying to figure out where he recognised her from. 

“Salvaterre, do you want to keep drooling over my little sister or do you want to play?” 

“I hope you choke to death on Rowan’s dick, Ash,” Lorcan replied evenly. He didn’t turn his gaze from the girl, who stared back at him, her eyes brazenly surveying him. Lorcan saw the challenge in her eye melt into heated appreciation. He ducked his head to hide his barely-there grin from Aelin’s hawkish glare and bounced a ping-pong ball off the table, “Are we playing or do you just want to keep guarding your sister’s virginity for eternity?”

The woman standing next to Aelin cackled with delight and leaned over the table, “It’s a little too late for that, but it gives her a sense of purpose now. I’m Elide, if you ever want to stop referring to me as ‘Aelin’s little sister’.”

He laughed quietly, “It’s nice to meet you, Elide. I’m Lorcan, this is Fenrys,” he gestured to the boy next to him. Fenrys gave her a toothy grin and a two-fingered salute. “So, are we playing or what?” 

“That sounds like a challenge, Lorcan,” Elide mused. Lorcan arched a brow and slowly looked her up and down. The black skirt she wore clung to her sinful curves and the corset cinched her waist tightly. Against her pale complexion, the blood red, long sleeve top she wore made an alluring and tempting contrast, matching her crimson-painted lips. 

“Maybe it is,” he countered, tilting his head to the side. 

Her eyes sparkled with something and she kissed the ping-pong ball before tossing it. It soared in a perfect arch and landed directly in the cup nearest to him. Lorcan’s brows raised and Elide laughed a delicate, smokey and sultry sound, “I like a challenge.” 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

“Come with me,” Elide said, holding her hand out expectantly. 

Lorcan looked between her outstretched hand and her face warily, “Where to?” 

“The kitchen,” she said, waving her fingers, “c’mon, my drink is empty.” 

He stood and let her pull her behind him, laughing under his breath at her cockiness. Lorcan drained the last of his drink and tapped it against his bottom lip. “Where do I know you from? I feel like I’ve met you before.” 

She turned and walked backwards, their joined hands hanging between them, “Hmmm… I don’t know. I go to the Vaults a lot, maybe I’ve seen you there?” she asked, referencing the local punk club near the university. Elide gave him a cheeky once-over, “You seem to be of that… persuasion.” 

“As do you,” Lorcan replied, nodding his chin towards her layered, wisp-filled pixie cut. “Very Twilight of you, I must say, princess.” He reached out and flicked her tiara.

As they arrived at the kitchen, Elide dropped his hand and hopped up onto the counter beside the collection of various bottles of alcohol. His hand tingled at the loss of contact and he squeezed his fingers into a fist. “I love me some Alice Cullen. She was my queer awakening.” 

“Ah, mine was Heath Ledger,” he replied back, smug. Lorcan grabbed the bottle of whiskey and poured a long, long shot into his cup. Then he got a can of Coke from the ice filled cooler and poured that to the rim. Elide chuckled when he bent to sip in case of a spill. 

Lorcan pushed his hair back as he stood back up and watched her pour a sickeningly green liquor into her cup. “Damn, that’s… green, shit, Lochan.” 

“Yeah, I like my tongue spooky colours,” she said with a shrug, putting the green one down and drowning it in vodka and Sprite. “Don’t you?” 

He laughed, “Maybe. What kind of spooky are you talking about?” 

Elide hummed coyly, taking a sip of her, indeed, spooky drink, “All kinds of freaky shit.” She patted his arm, “So, if you live with Ro, why do I never see you?” 

“Oh, I’m- I’m a photographer so I’m not home much,” he said, drinking from his cup. “I go to a lot of concerts and stuff.” Lorcan leaned against the counter opposite her and lifted his leg to kick her foot. “So what do you do, hmm? Are you in the art program?” 

Elide tilted her head to the side, “Well, I was. I dropped out first year for a tattoo apprenticeship and I’ve been doing that for a few years,” she said, scrunching her nose up. 

“Y’know what, I think we had a class together first year. I think I… spilt coffee on your drawing.” 

Her eyes lit with recognition, “Oh my gods, yes! I so remember you, I was so mad about that.” 

He ducked his head, “I’m real sorry about that.” A lopsided grin spread across his lips and he looked up, “So, where are you apprenticing?” 

“The Omega on Main street, you know it? Run by Blackbeaks, exclusively?” 

“Holy fuck, yes. I’m getting a tattoo there next week,” Lorcan said, his eyes wide. “Their tattoos are… amazing. It’s fucking art work.” 

“I know! You know, if you know what you’re getting, I might’ve worked on it.” 

“I’m getting an old school, traditional style raven on my chest,” Lorcan said, gesturing from shoulder to shoulder and down his sternum. “I got one of the freaky twins. Fallon, I think.” 

Elide nodded, “Fallon is amazing. She’s actually hilarious when you’re with her one on one. She likes Enya and has her on her tattooing playlist, so prepare for that.” She hopped off the counter and hooked her finger in his belt loop. Elide pulled him, once again, and guided him towards a couch. They sat down, Elide’s legs haphazardly strewn across his lap. Lorcan’s hand splayed above her knee and he toyed with a rip in her tights. 

Lorcan rested his chin on her shoulder and bumped his nose into her jaw, “So, what’s your Samhain declaration?” 

She leaned backwards and regarded him seductively, “Hmm… to new things and new… people.” 

Lorcan lifted his cup and said: “To new things and new… people.” 

 ☽ ☼ ☾

Lorcan wrangled Fenrys, “Boyo, come on. I gotta get you home.” He sighed and tossed the bony boy over his shoulder. 

Elide shrugged on her faux-fur coat - white with black hearts - and laughed at the sight as she fluffed her hair, “Aww, you take good care of your baby. Look at the little guy.” 

He grinned and leaned against the porch column. “He sure is a champ in the morning. So perky,” Lorcan slapped Fenrys’ ass and chuckled when Fenrys whined, drowsily mumbling a protest. 

She giggled tipsily and walked out, impressively straight given how much vodka she’d consumed. “I’m a Blackbeak, bitch. We bleed vodka,” Elide said, pronouncing the last word with the accent of her mother. 

“Oh, shit,” Lorcan mumbled, “I didn’t mean to say that outloud. Whoopsies.”

Elide laughed and patted his cheek before she leaned in and kissed his face, “Goodnight, my darling.” 

He laughed, the sound slightly choked, “G’night, princess.” 

She clicked her tongue and walked down the steps, going to the cab she’d called. “Give Fenny Poo some meds and water and don’t call me ‘princess’!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Don’t call me that either!” 

“As you wish, princess.” 

She scoffed and held her middle finger up high, “I loathe your existence, Salvaterre!” 

“Oh, don’t be mean to me, please, gorgeous, I’ll fall in love with you,” he crooned, smiling wildly.

In retrospect, it hadn’t seemed so likely.

☽ ☼ ☾

an: i luv them 🥺couple notes: - aelin & rowan r three years older than elide & lorcan, fenrys is in twelfth grade ! - lorcan is anarcho-punk and elide is riot grrrl !

songs played in chapter: (by order of appearance) 1. I'm Gonna Love You Too - Blondie (cover of original by buddy holly)

@mythicaitt​​​ @werewolffprince​​​ @schmlip-scribble​​​ ​ @the-regal-warrior​​​ @ladyverena​​​ @ttakeitbacknoww​​​ @shyvioletcat​​​ @alifletcher2012​​​ @tswaney17​​​ @ourbooksuniverse​​​  @flora-and-fae​​​ @thesirenwashere​​​ @queenofxhearts​​​ @maastrash​​​ @mynewdreamwasyou​​​ @cursebreaker29​​​ @empress-ofbloodshed​​​ @b00kworm​​​ @hizqueen4life​​​ @silversprings98​​​ @amren-courtofdreams​​​ @minaidss​​​ @superspiritfestival​​​ @sanakapoor​​​ @ireallyshouldsleeprn​​​ @spyofthenightcourt​​​  @thegoddessofyou​​​ @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx​​​ @claralady​​​ @neonhellas​​​ @darlinminds​​​ @readingismyonlyhobby​​​ @autophobiaxx​​​ @silversprings28​​​ @myshadowsingeraz​​​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​​​ @elriel4life​​​ @always-in-a-daydream​​​ @jlinez​​​ @ladywitchling​​​ @mariamuses​​ @darklesmylove​​ @adelzd-bookblr​

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

For your requests: Lower Decks senior crew meeting when they talk about dumb stuff. I saw the bar stool meeting in moist vessel and honestly, that was favorite part of that episode.

My apologies! I know this has been sitting in my inbox forever!!

Set in season 1 II AO3 Link

T'Ana is three fingers into her whiskey when Carol drops into her chair. Stress lines combined with her haphazardly styled hair indicates that she's been dealing with a certain wild ensign again. T'Ana feels equal parts amused and exasperated by the fact that Mariner could so easily get under the skin of their captain, but makes no mention of it.

"Aren't you on duty?" Ransom asks, sitting in his chair backwards like he's William fucking Ryker. Whatever, she's not going to ruin his dreams.

She throws back the rest of her drink. "And what of it?" T'Ana lets a bit of a growl into her voice.

Ransom holds up his hands placatingly. Carol eyes her empty glass longingly.

"Sorry-!" Billups yips, flying through the doorway so fast it almost doesn't have time to open for him. "-I didn't realize we had a-"

"It's fine," Carol mutters. "Take a seat."

Billups sits next to Stevens, who's been making weird eye contact with Ransom.

T'Ana doesn't want to know. She pulls her flask out of her lab jacket and takes a swig.

"Is this about the away mission?" Ransom asks, sighing. "Because I swear I didn't know the Gadaorianzes believed bathbombs were devil worship-"

"It's not about that," Carol interrupts, rubbing her temples. By the look on her face it's clear she and Ransom are going to be discussing that in great detail later.

"Okay then," Ransom glances around the room puzzled. "Then what's-"

Carol mumbles something incomprehensible to everyone but T'Ana. Sometimes having enhanced hearing is a perk.

This is not one of those times.

T'Ana pulls out her second flask from her boot and drains it.

"Uh, I didn't quite catch that-" Stevens begins.

"It's about Mariner!" Carol snaps.

T'Ana flattens her ears and rolls her eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."

Shaxs, who's been relatively quiet thus far, exchanges a commiserating glance with her.

"She's never where she should be, she disregards mission protocols, she sasses her superiors, she's not even adhering to dress code half the time-"

"Just demote her then," Ransom says, looking relieved that he's not about to be reamed out in front of the entire senior crew. Yet.

Carol narrows her eyes. "I can't," she mutters.

T'Ana raises an eyebrow. Or her equivalent of one, anyway. "What, she some bigwig's daughter? That make sense," she snorts.

The Captain's eyes get even more squinty. "What's that supposed to mean, Dr. T'Ana?"

"Oh, you let her get away with waaay to much shit for her to be anything less than an Admiral's daughter."

"I heard she's a spy for section-"

"Everyone knows you can't trust shit from the rumor mill on this ship, Billups."

"I'm saying it would make sense! Do you know how much she can bench press?"

"And she's so tiny too," Ransom says, mournfully.

"Eh-"

"Not really-"

"Actually she's taller than me-"

Ransom, who has about eight inches on everyone present, just scowls at the table.

"Cool, so Mariner's making the Captain spazz out," Steven's says, leaning back in his chair. He clearly trying to pull off casual and suave, but not succeeding due to the fact that you can only lean so far back in the swivel chairs before toppling over. "What are we supposed to do about it?"

"This isn't 'problem solving meeting,'" Ransom hisses, "it's our weekly group therapy session, Steve, keep up."

"Wait that's a thing?"

"How long have you been on this ship?" T'Ana asks.

"Four years."

"And you haven't noticed that Freeman calls us in here at least once a week-if not twice-to complain about her mentee?"

"She's not my mentee!"

"You're emotionally attached to her, just sign the adoption papers already," T'Ana shoots back, earning a chuckle of Shaxs.

"You do get this strangely constipated look around her," he adds.

"Hmm, just like the one you get when you look at Ensign Rutherford?" T'Ana adds, smirking.

"I don't have fatherly feelings toward-"

"You all disgust me," T'Ana says, shaking her head.

"Don't worry, someday you'll find an adorable, wide eyed Ensign to adopt," Carol says, patronizingly, something of a grin melting away the stress in her face.

"So you're admitting that you wanna adopt the problem child?"

Carol scowls. "I didn't call this meeting to be-"

"We are in fucking basement levels of denial," T'Ana groans. She drops her head onto the table and feels around in her back pocket for another flask.

"Just throw her in the brig again and be done with it," Ransom mutters, circling back to the original topic at hand. "It's not as if she can get up to much trouble there."

"Don't say that," Billups moans, probably remembering the last time Mariner was thrown in the brig. T'Ana hadn't been there for it personally, but she knows Carol deleted the security footage for therapy related reasons.

"Can't you just bribe her? Can she be bribed?" Steven muses.

"That's against regulation." Carol's considering expression is at odds with her words.

"Find her weakness and use it against her," Ransom says, filing his nails.

"She doesn't have weaknesses." Carol's face is now intense.

"She has friends right? Surely they're an influence on her."

Carol scowls. "Trust me, I tried that. Her best friend has some sort of loyalty crush on her and the rest of them would sooner break the rules than try and intervene."

"You have only one choice than," Shaxs says, voice rumbling.

Everyone turns to look at him.

"Give up."

"What!"

"Did he really just say that?"

"Shaxs!"

"No no. He's right."

T'Ana grabs the bottle of vodka ducktapped under the table and uncorks it. It's going to be a long afternoon.

[strings-have-been-cut]

Spread the love - all of them

What's a roleplay blog whose characterization you admire?

I would be silly not to say Jeanette (@ltbroccoli) as I can literally picture Dwight's facial expressions and mannerisms and hear his voice when she writes. She knows Reg very well.

Just started playing with Dean (@assasenach) but he has such a good backstory and universe built around Lorian that he is constantly developing, and it's just really great.

What's a roleplay blog whose writing style you admire?

Chris (@asteritm) just feels like she is having fun when she's writing, and her narrative style is so descriptive. She sets the scene so well, and she's just a pleasure to read.

What's a roleplay blog who always has the best plot ideas?

Cy (@iamselfmade) is probably gonna show up on this list more than once, but this boy knocks plotting right outta the park. He comes at me with plots and headcanons at all hours of the day and I love and appreciate every second of it.

What's a roleplay blog whose artwork/edits/icons you admire?

Hope (@astraldestiny) has always had beautiful graphics. They're simple, beautiful...like her header with Deanna was just my favourite and her muses page is so so pretty. I dunno, I just love her aesthetic.

What's the roleplay blog you've been writing with the longest here?

UH. It's gotta be @ltbroccoli. I can't think of anyone I've been writing with longer on Tumblr! If you wanna get technical about it, @galaeus and I haven't done too much on Tumblr, but we RPed together back in like 2009 on forums hahaha. <3

What's a roleplay blog who's an absolute joy to talk to ooc?

There's many, but I gotta call out Max (@lostmojave) for this one. They're just so sweet and happy and always a pleasure to get a message from!

What's a roleplay blog you love whose character you didn't know until you started writing with them?

Hmm probably Hugh (@iamselfmade). I loved Hugh in the way that I would go 'Hugh!' when I saw him on TNG or Picard, but not the way that I really thought hard about him!

What's a roleplay blog with a friendly mun?

Dawn (@cristobalrios) and I have been speaking more recently, and she's delightful! We totally have to write together, but I like her a lot and we seem to have a lot in common!

What's a roleplay blog whose dedication you admire?

Jen’s (@nashforhire) Liz Nash is basically canon for me. I forget she's not sometimes. She has every single detail of Liz mapped out and obviously loves her and has spent years developing her. Liz's lore goes so deep (okay, Jen, I know, I wrote that and was like 'should I rephrase? no.) and that gives her so much life.

What's a roleplay blog that always keeps you pleasantly surprised?

I don't like the phrasing of this question because to me it sounds like 'which blog do you expect to be shit and you're surprised when it's not?' so shout out to @garakk because I was scared af to play him and people are still trying to write with me, so I guess I didn't fuck him up that badly - pleasant surprise!

What's a roleplay blog you admire from afar?

Uhm like all of them. But if it's someone I haven't written with? Maybe @crimsonsunsets because I've seen their stuff on my dash a lot and it's wonderful and pretty (hi there! nice to meet you).

[starsmuserainbow]

Hmm, okay uh, I have no idea what I’m doing here but I feel like everyone needs positivity and so here’s a post where I’ll try to give just that.

First off, happy holidays and a good end of the year to everyone who reads this, I am glad that you’re here watching my blog and perhaps even interacting with me! Thank you for everything, whether that is a simple follow or an occasional (perhaps anon) ask, or actual interactions!

Next, I want to say that everyone that I’m seeing on my dash is absolutely amazing and I admire so many of you and am happy whenever I see you around! I am most likely very happy to have you around, especially if we’re mutuals and interacting with one another. I would probably love to talk with each of you more, but I’m just really bad at smalltalk or anything like that so with most people, I simply default to only messaging them (= you) when there’s something as a reason to do so. Sorry for that!

This goes out to everyone reading this: You’re awesome, I’m honored to have you here and interested in my blog, and I hope that your days or weeks or months will be great because you surely deserve it!

And then, I’ll now follow with a kind-of list mentioning a few people that I want to say more to. Which might sound repetitive because I suck at words in these regards, but yeah. Under a cut for length.

If you see this post and weren’t tagged, please don’t be sad or think I don’t value you being around! I can’t tag everyone, and I don’t have the best mind for things like coming up with someone that I forgot in the moments of writing this.

To not start off with the same names all the time, I wrote down the URLs I wanted to include and randomized the order. So don’t think anything by if you’re first or 5th or last on this list! And once more, I’m bad at words, so I’m sorry if this isn’t sounding too great or like it’s similar for each one.

I told myself to not include anyone that isn’t active-ish at the moment, but I made some exceptions to that because I felt that said person needed to be on my list.

@rogueprinceconsort ~ (I read the post you did recently more or less saying you’re leaving, but I wrote this before that post and it would have felt wrong to erase it from here only because of you leaving!) I enjoy our interactions a lot! They feel like they actually develop a story, which I can’t say for ALL my interactions but definitely for each one that we have going! Which is really cool! You’re one of the only few people where I have the chance to play around with different verses too (well, or at least one different verse, since our other two ongoing interactions are in the mainverses of my muses, but still), and you’re one of the few giving one of my OC-sideblogs a chance as well, and, just, I really am so thankful for it and happy to have you as a mutual!

@untouchable-lightning ~ You aren’t here at the moment, so let me just start this by saying that I hope that things will get better for you again soon! It’s a lot of fun to interact with you and I think you’re a good writer and I’m very happy for our interactions! They are always fun! I did not often yet get the chance to do this other RP-style that I do (the ‘choose-your-option’ one) and you are one of those that allowed me to play through it, and you also interact/ed with my sideblogs too, so a big thank you for that! Our threads also often last nicely long, which is absolutely amazing since it’s a big rarity these days, too. You’re great, and I’m happy that we’re mutuals and interaction-partners!

@miasmarp ~ We’re more or less only starting out interacting and talking and anything basically, but I felt like I just absolutely had to include you because I HAVE A CHANCE TO PLAY ONE OF MY OTHER (non-blog-having, not even an info page or anything outside of one or two ooc posts about them) OCS with you and that’s just like the first time at all (not counting if I do include them as minor appearances in other things, though even there it has only happened one single time so far iirc), and that is just so much fun and just thank you! You’re really cool and I’m happy that we’re mutuals!

@karaoftomorrow (or @yourfavoritesidekick if you’d prefer I tag your main) ~ It’s so wonderful to write with you! It feels like we’re developing stuff in our things really well, and I really like to read what appears from you on my dash! Talking with you is very nice too, and I’m always really happy whenever I see you in my notifications or IMs or wherever! I’m very glad to have you as mutual and am really happy about any and all of our interactions!

@skymade / @siriseen or maybe I should tag one of your other blogs instead but those are the first two I usually think of and I don’t wanna tag more than two blogs for one person xD ~ Sooooooooo awesome! You have so many characters, which all are wonderful as far as I can tell, and I love our interactions so much! I’m always really looking forward to the next reply I get from one of our things, and talking to you is always a delight and I’m so so happy that we somehow found each other! Or well, I guess you found me because if I remember right you followed me first, but yes! Thank you for writing with pretty much all of my characters, you’re very cool, I absolutely love the connections our muses get (especially those where they know one another at a younger time and then ‘now’ meet again too - how cool is that?) and it’s always a joy to see you on my dash!

@azarathian ~ We haven’t really done or spoken that much together yet (or at least I assume we didn’t? There was your old blog but I don’t think we really spoke there, much less did threads or the likes? Sorry if I’m wrong though xD), but I’m so very glad we started! I admire your writing and the thoughts you put into Raven and I think you’re great! Our threads are incredibly entertaining and it’s so awesome to put more story into the situations of or between the episodes of the cartoon, and yes, I’m just very very thankful that we got together somehow and I’m excited for how our threads - and potential future ones - will develop!

@nvertoolate or if I should tag your currently more active sideblog @bloomingtalent ~ It is so absolutely amazing that one of my first mutuals, friends, or however I should call it, still is active on here as well! With most people on here, it’s sadly the case that they’re gone again sooner than later, so it’s especially great that we are still both here! I think I’ve said multiple times before that I don’t think I would even have stayed on tumblr if you hadn’t been around and interacting with me so I won’t go into detail about that yet again, but, yes, I absolutely love our interactions when we do them, and while I don’t know much about Naruto so we don’t really interact that much on your sideblog, I’m still so very happy to have you around and as my mutual! I’m so thankful for you and that we got to interact - and still do! Thank you!

@sewn-cutie ~ Our interactions are always so wonderfully adorable and cute! I love the connection between Starfire and Clementine, and it’s a lot of fun to write any of our things! I’m very happy when I hear from you in an OOC-y way too, like when you reply to one of my posts or in the IMs or whereever! I’m absolutely convinced that you are a great person, and I am delighted that we are mutuals and can interact so nicely!

@legaxies ~ I wasn’t sure if maybe I shouldn’t include you since from how much I can tell it seems you are at the moment more focused onto that theme-sideblog you have and I told myself to not include those that aren’t really active at the moment - but I felt like I had to! I wanted to say that I’m really happy for the things we started, and that I have a lot of fun talking to you when we do! I’m very much enjoying the potential relationships we have started on, and I look forward to hopefully continuing them in some way eventually! (This of course is not meant as pushing you to work on replies or whatever, please don’t understand me wrong here; I just mean this in a way of, if we do get to continue it - if not that’s totally fine too!) You’re doing great with any of your characters (as much as I can judge with not that much knowledge), and I’m happy that we’re mutuals! It’s a joy to interact with you, so, thank you!

@featherchan ~ You’re interacting with me, or did in the past, on pretty much all my muses (I think not on Starlight? But outside of that on all I think), and that means a lot to me! We have some really cool plots going, and you joined in on that event-au-thing I did all that time back too, so that’s very great, and I wanted to say thanks! Our interactions are always fun and I’m happy to write with and talk to you!

@thedoctornumber11 ~ Throughout my time being here, you’re pretty much the only one of the world of Doctor Who that I got interactions going with (I think there was someone on Wildfire once too, but not for very long iirc), and I really enjoy that! I wanted to include you here too because I wanted to say that I’m very very grateful for the nice words or explanations you sometimes throw onto my posts, and for the things you send in to me, and yes just for all of it! Thank you!

@flashgotthis ~ I love our things so much! All the interactions that we did so far were really really really cool, still are, and they often last really long too, and it’s just absolutely wonderful! You’re also one of those that aren’t only talented writers, but also really great artists, and I admire that skill so much! I’m delighted that we are mutuals and interaction-partners, and I look forward to what’s still to come! You’re amazing!

@graceful-cure-swan / @rosecoloredmuses (mostly tagging your sideblog as well to give it, like, some sort of indirect promoing here) ~ You are great! I feel so bad for all the many things you sent me whereas I barely ever send you (or anyone else, for that matter) anything at all, but, I’m also really grateful that you do it, so - thank you! I’m enjoying our interactions very much, I think that both Tsubasa and your other characters are done really well (even if I don’t know that much about each of them or can compare them to their canon versions much), and you’re a lot of fun to interact with! You also give my sideblogs and OCs a chance too, which means very much to me too, so yeah, I’m very grateful to have you as my mutual!

@eterniita ~ We’ve been interacting throughout a few of your blogs already, and I enjoy our interactions! I think you put a lot of love and thought into your characters, and they are great, and our threads are a lot of fun! I haven’t yet checked out your remade blog of your canons again, but I intend to and most likely follow you there again, too! I hope we will still get to more wonderful interactions!

@merveiilles​ ~ I’m so happy that we’re interacting! I love our threads a lot and I’m enjoying every reply that I get or write! You have a lot of characters and it’s really impressive that you do them (as far as I can tell/know them) so well! Your art, that you occasionally post, is also really really amazing and it’s very wonderful that you are so talented! I am very thankful for the nice words that you put onto my posts every now and then, and I am delighted by the threads and connections we are having between our muses!

@symbioteburnout​ ~ I don’t feel like I can say very much here (yet), but I wanted to include you too! I enjoy the things that we got going so far, and going from what I see from you about her I think Andi is a interesting character! It’s always wonderful to me, when people put the effort into characters who might not get as much time to shine in canon as others. Thanks for replying to my opens every now and then, and just in general for being my mutual and interacting with me!

@titansandothersrp​ / @robynrpmain (Now I’m getting frustrated at tumblr again for not letting me tag your main) ~ You are really cool! You’re a great artist, I love to see your work, and our threads are very entertaining! I feel like you’re doing very well in giving the characters you play as more story, more... I don’t know the right word here. Just, that you make them ‘more’, and that’s a really awesome thing. And yeah, like said, you also do art which I think looks really good, and I just absolutely admire people who can do art so well. Thanks for being mutuals and interacting with me!

---

So, and as a nice little bit of words at the end, I guess~ I’m very honored by anyone of you who’s actually interested in me and my writing, I’m thankful and glad to have you around, and I’m looking forward to more amazing things to come in the future with all of you!

[elderbwrry]

Even if he doesn't say so - Chapter 2/?

Kylo/Hux/Poe Witcher AU

Chapter summary: The trouble with trinkets is they make people jealous. Or maybe that's just Kylo.

Chapter 1 here, 2 below or on Ao3, 3

Wordcount: 2029

Kylo raised his sword and brought it down fiercely on the horrible carnivorous vines he'd been hired to clear out of the local village's moor edge. The things had already munched their way through a cow and half a sheep, and the villagers were worried a child would be next. Perhaps to his own detriment, Kylo wasn't really all that interested in the reasons why he'd been hired; he was far more interested in the coin he'd get out of the experience, and the opportunity to really let loose some destructive energy.

Of course, Kylo had been trained well in fencing, dagger fighting, stave fighting and in hand to hand combat, but for his typical work, he favoured the longsword. The weight of it felt so right in his hands, the swing of it, the sharp edge or the blunt hit, the way it gleamed red after drawing blood. For most monsters, it worked perfectly well, but even then the necessity to dodge or force down some kind of potion usually took the pleasure out of the pure heft behind it. These vines, however, were easy game. They thrashed, shot out poisonous barbs, but mostly they stayed in one place. That meant Kylo could swipe the metal through them with abandon, and still be assured he'd meet his mark.

He hacked and slashed, let a furore course through his veins and out into his surroundings, over and over and over through whatever fleshy leaf, woody stem, fibrous buds he could reach with metal and intensity. When finally he let his sword drop to trail its point through the under-brush at his side, it was carnage. He went around the area, plunging the blade as deep as it would go into each root stump until he was satisfied that nothing was living, before stalking away from the destruction.

Chest heaving, he found a flat, dry piece of ground and lay down, looking up at the clouds and basking in the feeling of action still tingling through his arms, into his fingers, out into the earth and the air around him. He felt connected – to the ground he was lying on, to the source of his own power, without being worried he was lost in the force of a potion. This was all him.

Back in the village, when they'd described to Kylo what he was out to fight, Hux had listened carefully and given a fancy academic name for the vines. Kylo stuck with the common name, shrugging and standing to head off immediately. Hux had reprimanded him and delayed him until he'd found an anti-toxin potion to order Kylo to take before engaging the things, which Kylo had ignored. Now, looking down at his legs and seeing several barbs sticking out of them, Kylo again heard Hux telling him, “They have poisonous thorns, you know,” in exactly that tone that could piss him off just as much as it could make him want to pounce on Hux and make his annoyance known by ripping a few tunic seams in the process.

Still, the mage was right, as per fucking usual.

Kylo hauled himself up to sit, drew the potion out of a pocket and downed it, picking the barbs out while he waited for it to take effect. The pricks tingled a bit, but it wasn't anything too bad, certainly not to the severity that Hux's wariness had suggested. Though it was nice that he'd given him the potion. It felt like being looked out for.

He let his mind drift to how Hux and Poe would be doing. The mage was likely offering common-sense medical advice to the villagers in the most deadpan delivery possible, or flicking through one of the books he'd brought with him in his seemingly bottomless bags. Poe had been eager to do his usual thing and perform a little in the tavern. His voice was so wonderful, Kylo found himself thinking, the sparkle in his eyes as he reached the punchline of a bawdy tune, and the way he could command a room, tell a story better than anyone else before...

Well, Kylo should be getting back.

He stood, gave the area one last cursory look for any vines he'd missed, and, seeing nothing, turned to go. He was just sheathing his sword when he stopped, eyes catching on a clump of cheerful orange and white flowers which had managed to survive his visit, just on the edge of the carnage.

“Hmm.”

When Kylo returned to the village tavern and gave Poe those same flowers, Poe's face lit up with a smile. “Well, don't I feel special.”

Kylo noticed Hux eyeing them. Shit, had he done something wrong? “They're not poisonous too, are they?” he asked.

Hux seemed to snap out of some kind of reverie. “No, they're... they're just normal flowers. Excuse me,” he stood from the table he was sat at and made for the stairs.

If Kylo didn't know better about Hux's taste in “useless gestures” like flowers, he would have thought he should have brought Hux some as well.

[break]

They stopped at the next city. Kylo wasn't sure they should stay – there were no contracts of the style he took, and, in his opinion, staying pointlessly at a place like this was a recipe for trouble – but Poe wanted to get some supplies and try out a some new material with a more cosmopolitan crowd, and Hux claimed he had someone he wanted to visit, so stay they did.

Hux disappeared off into the bustling crowds early in the morning, and, later, Poe dragged Kylo off to the market. Kylo started to suspect he was only there so that Poe could make him carry things, which would grate on him usually, but he found didn't mind all that much, since it meant he got to spend time with the bard.

Poe was a people person, a fact which Kylo had always known, but it was never so clear as when he was not trying actively to entrance people as he did when performing – somehow not putting it on made it all the more obvious this was just him. He would flash charming grins to the women and manoeuvred through the crowds with an ease Kylo was jealous of.

For his own part, Kylo always felt the need to keep his hood low, to keep out of sight, even going so far as to cast a glamour some witch had taught him years ago. It was a weak thing, but eyes slid off him like water droplets off a bird. With Poe, however, he didn't need it; the man was so magnetic as it was, there was barely anyone who would bother to stare at anyone else. (Kylo included himself in that number.)

Finally, they came to a stand selling all sorts of gold and silver jewellery, pretty trinkets, gemstones on cords. One brooch caught Poe's eye – a dragon. “This is some amazing craftsmanship,” he noted, striking up an easy conversation with the stall keeper. When the man had to tend to another customer, he turned back to Kylo. “I'd love to fly. Do you think I'd be a good dragon?”

“You'd be great,” Kylo told him honestly. He was certain Poe would command the skies, given half the chance, and push back against the hunters until the entire Continent was dragon territory once again. The mental image morphed into one of Poe in front of a victory banner, the name of a great flying lizard no more than an epithet used by the forces he'd become leader of. It was a good look in him; he may not want to be in charge of his home kingdom, but with a cause like that, and people to follow him, he could be formidable. Lost in the daydream of Poe as some kind of dragon king of the skies, Kylo pointed at the brooch. “Do you want to get that?”

Poe looked at it thoughtfully, enough that Kylo could see the conflict in his thoughts. “Nah,” he said eventually, “it's expensive and... I have stuff at home.” He began walking away, and Kylo trailed after him, thinking it was a pity – the brooch would look so wonderful on him. “Maybe I could get Hux to transfigure me or something,” Poe mused, a glint of humour in his eye as Kylo blanched.

“I'm not sure that's how it works...”

“Imagine it though. Flap flap, blagh, I'm a dragon.”

[break]

A day after they left the city, they made their first camp at the edge of a copse. Kylo was checking over his armour while Poe and Hux were sat on a log opposite him, Poe cooking a fowl on the fire and Hux watching him do it. Kylo had let himself fall into a somewhat meditative state as he worked everything over, but a glint of silver and amber across camp hooked him out of it.

Hux had withdrawn a small pouch from his pocket, and withdrawn from that again a brooch. Another second let Kylo confirm – it was the very brooch from the city market. How had he known? Then he was handing it to Poe with a smooth, “I saw this and thought of you.” Bastard.

Poe was speechless for a second. “You shouldn't have,” were the first words out of his mouth.

“Well I can always-”

“No, I'll...” Poe reached to take it from Hux's hand. Kylo's jaw clenched as Poe's fingers lingered for too long. “Thanks, Hux. This is... wow.” He put it on, pinning it over his heart.

“It isn't straight.” Without waiting to be asked, Hux reached up with deft mage's fingers to fix it, smoothing out the fabric more than was necessary. “There.”

The leather armour in Kylo's grip creaked. Poe didn't hear it, but Hux shot him a look and... was that a smirk?

Then it hit Kylo; those flowers he'd given to Poe weeks ago must have made Hux jealous. It did not enter into Kylo's conception that Hux could simply like seeing Poe happy – happiness could be a part of it, certainly, but Hux was too cunning, too driven by ulterior motives for it to be that simple – or that Hux's feeling at seeing Poe like another person's gift could be any different to what Kylo himself was now feeling at seeing the same.

Well, if this was to be a game of one-upmanship, Kylo was sure he'd find a way to win. To make Poe smile like that, run a hand through his curls self-consciously as he now was – Kylo could do that just as well as Hux could. The rest of the evening, his mind was spinning with things he could give to the bard, trinkets of affection he could source the next time they crossed a place which dealt in such things.

The fire burned down and Hux retreated into his tent for the evening, Poe and Kylo settling on their bedrolls. They ended up facing each other, so Kylo, with his Witcher eyes, was not spared the view of Poe's finger fiddling with the brooch as he smiled to himself.

“He shouldn't have got it for me,” Poe mumbled again, as if sensing Kylo's train of thought, “It's probably gonna get broken.” Then, quieter, “I worry enough about whether you two will stay in one piece, I'd rather not worry about tiny things like this as well.”

Kylo thought about that for a minute. “You worry about us?” He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. Out of all of them, Poe was the one who should be being worried about – Kylo himself was nigh on destructible, and Hux would probably survive anything out of sheer spite, even discounting his magic.

“Shut up,” Poe chuckled.

Kylo watched him smile up blankly at the canopy. And... if Poe could be happy like that without being showered with gifts, if it would please him more to worry about them less, maybe Kylo didn't need to compete with Hux. Perhaps the three of them were good enough as they were.

[scrap1pile]

Talking about the songs on some of my muses spotify playlist because Im obssessed with music(and also musicals) lol

Sorry its kinda long lol

Snare

Playlist link

The good in me, by Jon Bellion- the music/style itself doesnt fit his aesthetic very well, but the lyrics certainly fit him. Heres some lyrics I especially think fit:

My foundation rumbles and all my morals crumble

Try to survive, keep my spirit alive, but like a knife in the woods yea you hunt down the good in me

Its my own fault, but you had this planned

A Cautionary Tale, from the Mean Girls Musical- mean girls is 100% Snares aesthetic, both the musical and the movie(I need to rewatch that sometime). It fits him also because the lyrics match and the song centres around a cautionary tale which is like, Snares whole thing. Heres some of the lyrics I think fit the best:

Just admit that sometimes mean is what you are, mean is easier then nice

And the mean can take you far, maybe this will make you think twice

This is a cautionary tale, about corruption and betrayal

You cant buy integrity, at the mall its not for sale

Cut Your Bangs by Girlpool- it. Just fits ok. And the lyrics definitely fit too. Also the aesthetic matches too. Lyrics that fit:

Your teeth are nashing louder then you monologue

When you lie to me its in the small stuff

The maggots round your heart make themselves at home

Safety First by Left at London- I love the song and also. Like all the lyrics fit. The song kind of fits his aesthetic, but not exactly. Just some of the lyrics that fit:

I give out my heart just for it to break

I fell in love its a beginners mistake

I dont love you anymore yet I dont know if I can love again

But I haven’t felt that way in so long

But honestly my faith in love has faltered, and now all I have is regrets and gratitude

I should be patient, I should be kind, but I dont have energy anymore

I shouldnt envy, I shouldnt boast, but I dont have energy anymore

Drillhorn

Playlist link

Okay he only has two songs, but the explanations might be a bit lengthy

One thing, from 35 Questions- The vibe of the song and what its about is very fitting, cause Drillhorn 100% focuses on other more minor problems to avoid dealing with bigger ones, and also takes on more then he can handle and doesnt want to ask for help cause he thinks he can do it on his own and doesnt want to seem dependent or weak. Hed also obsess over small problems cause he has a desire to fix everything, even if it doesnt need fixed or just makes things worse. Id list lyrics that fit but literally the entire song, (minus a few lyrics at the end sung by the.. girl I dont remember her characters name)

Exeunt, by The Oh Hellos- its a funky little cute song that fits his aesthetic alot, and the lyrics fit too! I dont really know what the song is about too much, but it fits nonetheless. Heres some of the fitting lyrics:

Now, I am not the fool I was when I was younger

Batter down my door when you find me defenseless

I will not abide all your raging and reaving

Crocodile eyes, I have seen how you hunger

Hmm, looking at the lyrics this is what I take from it for Drillhorn: He isnt easily manipulated, and stands his ground when it comes to something he feels strongly about or if he just needs to stand up for himself in general.

[hazbincalifornia]

Amount of writing I’m getting done for OT and my IZ fic: Some.

Amount of writing I’m getting done for self-indulgent bullshit: Somewhat more.

Anyway, wrote out Bella meeting Sir Pentious because I was bit by the muse bug. This is written for the four people who know who they both are, f.

Wordcount: 2075

The second she saw the airship soaring through the red-tinted sky, shooting anything that looked at it funny, Bella knew she had to get inside of it. Let Kit flirt with their host (or, if she was honest, fail to flirt with, man, she didn’t even like flirting and even she knew that he turned into a pile of goopy mush when he was around a guy he thought was cute) and let Vee attempt to kidnap yet another animal to try and smuggle home, she wanted to find out who the heck made a steam-powered airship in the twenty-first century.

Or maybe Hell was actually stuck in the year 1900, who knew? Time probably passed funny in the afterlife, but the fact that nobody had shot them out of the sky yet said that there was something else afoot- the pilot had to have some way of warding off attacks considering rivals probably had, like, grenade launchers, and she wanted to find out how. Style merged with substance, ruling the air with confidence- and she wanted in. 

“Hey! Hey you!” She flagged down somebody with four arms and purple fur who looked short enough to be less likely to punt her into orbit- Mom had warned that most people down here were mean as, well, Hell- and pointed up at the ship. “What’s the deal with those?”

“You a newly dead?” The demon raised one of their four eyes, and Bella nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, newly dead. Anyway. Story?”

“They’re made by Sir Pentious, one of the Overlords. He’s some kinda inventor, I’unno. Never blew up anything that mattered to me, so I never cared that much.”

“Sir Pentious…” She rolled the name around in her mouth, plucking the ‘T’ in the middle thoughtfully along with the rubber bands wrapped around her braces. “Got it. Thanks!”

“Er- you’re welcome.” They darted off, but that was fine. Now it was just a matter of actually getting onboard.

____________

She couldn’t find a rocket pack anywhere- lousy Hell lagging behind Earth technologically- but ended up stumbling across the next best thing in a warehouse that had an extra ship that had clearly been in some sort of accident. This one was only partially-reassembled, and there was a lot of burn damage sustained to the aluminum and copper outside, but that just meant that she could see the skeleton without having to slice through a lot of layers, so it was almost better- and a lot easier to crawl in one of the big holes in the front window via a pile of parts in front of it.

The interior was decorated like a mansion, with vivid yellows, reds, and blacks- she could respect the commitment to the aesthetic, especially with torn-open snakesheds and red eyeballs plastered everywhere. It looked like something out of Mom’s old comic book collection, toxic and yet intoxicating, every detail chosen for maximum dramatic potential. It must look even better with all the lights on and more than her phone’s flashlight illuminating bits at a time.

It was the best playground that she could imagine- nothing but her and a massive ship the size of an apartment building. Oddly enough, there wasn’t much dust- maybe it had crashed recently and was being held here for repairs? It was certainly of a similar design to the one that she’d seen from the ground, so she couldn’t imagine that it wasn’t just an iteration or two away.

Her fingers ran over the sleek machinery like it was sacred- some of it looked like it belonged in a museum, but the rest was cutting edge, and the seamless way they blended was like something out of a dream. A genius indeed- if she’d been born a hundred years ago and was suddenly thrust into the modern day, she could only hope that her tech would look this good. There was room for improvement of course, there always was, but it was loads better than most of what she saw digging through the junkyard, and a lot closer to the stuff she made with Grandpa Zim using his irken tech. Impressive for someone who’d clearly been dead for some time, considering he’d made enough of a name for himself that some rando off the street knew it.

“Genius inventor, huh…?” Bella pulled out her screwdriver, starting to work on freeing the control panel. It had a touchscreen and levers, what was that about? She had to know what it looked like underneath- did Hell even use cables and wires or was she going to need to drag Kit in to do his magic business here?

It took some doing- whatever had taken this particular ship down had welded the panel into place and it took a crowbar to pry off, ha, take that Venus for saying she ‘didn’t need to bring it’- but eventually she got into the guts of the thing. Sure enough, it was wiring, spiraled all into itself in a knot- it must have gotten all messed up at some point, maybe that was what caused the crash on top of whatever burnt the outside? 

She was about to start taking it apart when she heard a pitter-patter behind her.

“I’ve got a gun and I know how to use it, ya know,” she said, rummaging around in her pocket before pulling it out. “Mom insisted I bring the one that can vaporize people since apparently half of you can’t even die the normal way anyway? Bunch of freaks.” Her finger twitched towards the trigger as the pitter-patter became a shadow as the thing scrambled up towards the same hole she’d come in. “I’m warning you, I’m a great shot. Won’t take two to blow your brains out.”

“Whoever you are, bossman says you gotta go!” 

It was an egg. Not like some kind of insult, it was literally an egg, and probably a third of her size. It was also wearing a little hand-tailored suit and top hat. She stared down at it, and it stared up at her. 

“Who’s bossman?” Bella asked after a few very long seconds of silence.

“You know… bossman!” It blinked. “He doesn’t like people pokin’ around his cool, cool stuff and you tripped the motion sensor. Hey, is that a ray gun?”

Bella’s finger eased off the trigger. “Yeah, it is. It can probably scramble you.”

“Oooh! Fun! Not as good as boss’s, I’m sure, but-”

“Hey, what say you take me to this boss?” Bella crouched down, knowing this was incredibly stupid but also already entirely committed to it. “Then he can decide what to do with me in person.”

“Hmm… alright, but no funny business!” The egg looked her up and down before turning heel, starting to clamor down the pile of parts. She had to hold back a snort when she saw that it had ‘#69’ written on its back.

Some things never changed no matter where you went.

____________

The egg blabbered on all the way back to the ship, mostly about jazz music oddly enough, but soon enough they were nearing a different ship that had settled behind a building. It was either the one she’d seen before or a duplicate, and she felt a shiver run up her spine as she got close- it looked a lot cooler in one piece and lit up bright yellow. Her phone buzzed, and she discreetly pulled it out as the egg launched into a diatribe on the importance of the saxophone. It was a text from her sister. 

dolittle 🐭: bells where ARE you

dolittle 🐭: kits distracting clove so I could grab one of those bugdog things but moms gonna be asking how were doing soon, what should I say

Bella thought for a moment before sending back a reply. ‘im checking out that airship we saw earlier. have weapons. ill be fine. meet you back at the cafe later’

dolittle 🐭: be careful ok? know you can handle it but still

Bella smiled a little at that, sending a thumbs up before tucking her phone back into her pocket as they ascended the bridge.

“And then, then he saysss to me, he sayssss- Ah, there you are! Good, good.” She heard him before she saw him, voice booming as he welcomed his hench-egg back. “And what was poking around the warehouse?”

“This, boss!” The egg tugged at her jeans by the knee around the corner before pushing her forward with surprising force. “They said they wanted to see you!”

“Well well well!” 

Bella’s antennae twitched as her eyes widened. The man in front of her was a jet black snake, with fangs, a top hat, a bowtie, and eyes on his face as well as nestled on the open space on his chest and hood. Best she could pin from Venus’s nature lectures he was a cobra of some sort, and there was a smug fang-y grin on his face as he slithered up to her, taking advantage of the height that his tail gave him- he’d probably be seven feet easy to Bella’s mere five foot one. 

It took her only a moment to shake off her awe. “So you’re the famous Sir Pentious!”

His grin widened. “Ah! You’ve heard of me, little tresssspassser?” 

“Obviously, considering I knew your name, right?”

“Er- yes!” He faltered for just a moment, and she went in for the kill.

“Your work’s fantastic, but you really need a way to keep the gutty stuff in order in case of a hit- that’s probably part of why that other ship went down, y’know? But your sense of design and how you mold your century-old designs with the new stuff- it’s fantastic, I just want to cut it all open and see how it works.”

“What did you do?” His hood flared, and she twirled the gun in her hands.

“I only touched the control panel, and your little egg boy got at me before I messed with anything, but I’d give anything for a couple of days working on the interior of this place- I bet I could make it run faster and with less fuel.”

The eye on his hat rolled itself as he narrowed the eyes on his face. “Who are you to come in and think you know better than I about my own shipssss? I should end you right here for your insolence and your trespassing!”

Bella folded her arms, glancing around. “Hmm… far left column, the one with a yellow eye instead of a red one.”

“What about it?” He folded his arms as well, waggling his head. “Are you-”

“It’s welded weird. Something went wrong with the metal when it was being forged, so you put it in the back so you wouldn’t have to look at it. You didn’t want to waste a perfectly good column because somebody screwed up one little part. And that’s just what I see looking around in, like, five seconds- gah!” The end of his tail had wrapped around behind her while she’d been talking, and struck before she finished her sentence, lifting her up to his eye-level with her arms pinned to her sides.

“Little wrench! How dare you?” 

“I’m…” Her legs kicked a little, ribs feeling uncomfortably bendy at the moment as his scales pressed against her chest and back. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

His tongue darted out as he hissed, just barely brushing her nose before sliding back into his mouth.

“What do you really want, missy? I don’t like competition, you know.”

“You to let me breathe, for one,” she wheezed, fingers turning to try tickling what she could reach, and his cheek twitched funny before she dropped bodily to the floor, only managing to roll in time thanks to muscle memory from combat training. Thanks, Grandpas. “I really do just wanna see how all your stuff works. The ways I could improve my own inventions if I just could figure out how to blend different functionalities the way that you do...”

“I am quite impresssssive, aren’t I?” He puffed up his chest a bit. “And you have no intention to-”

Bella drew an X over her chest. “Cross my heart. You’re the bossman.”

He looked her up and down. “Hmm. Get back to me when you have a proper uniform and not those ragssss, and I suppose I could show you around a bit, if- if!- you show me something of yourssss.  ”

Bella’s grin slipped into a smirk as she gave a bow. “Bella Donna at your service, then, Sir Penny.”

[recurring-polynya]

can you please do a drabble where Renji is remembering his wild squad 11 style birthday party but then at the end once he finishes his flashback he’s celebrating his birthday in the present with Rukia and Ichika

“This is number 10,” Zaraki informed Renji, beady, bloodshot eye staring into beady, bloodshot eyes. “Not everyone makes it to ten.”

“I would stop after one,” Yumichika made his frowniest frowny face.

“You’re smarter than the rest of us,” Iba replied.

“I am ready,” Renji confirmed, gripping his cup as the Kenpachi filled it with sake from his “special stash.”

Renji had drunk a lot of horrible sake in his time. As it turned out, rotgut from deep North Rukongai had an entirely different flavor profile than the pigswill of his Southern youth. It hit you in the nose, rather than the ears, smelled more like a bog than an armpit, and the unpleasant aftereffects tended to come out the opposite end. On the other hand, bad sake was bad sake, and it was hardly a birthday without it.

“Kampei!” Renji and Zaraki shouted together, and down the hatch it went. Cheers went up around them.

“You’re a good man, Abarai,” Zaraki declared, standing up, and clapping him on the shoulder. “Happy birthday. I’m out. Yachiru! It’s bedtime!”

“Thank you, sir!” Renji hollered, far too loud, as Yachiru abandoned the bowl of wasabi peas she had been mainlining to hop onto the Kenpachi’s shoulder.

“Night, sir!” various members of Squad 11 chorused.

Zaraki was a good captain, Renji mused to himself, drunkenly. He showed up, drank enough to show that he cared, but then he took off, because no one really wanted to get birthday-wasted in front of their boss.

Birthdays at the Eleventh were very thoughtful affairs, in Renji’s opinion. First thing in the morning, you got to have a big public fight with anyone from the squad. Seated officers could choose to fight the big man, which, of course, he had. This year, he had made it 52 seconds, and was feeling very pleased with himself. He was given the rest of the morning off to nap, and then he got to run newb drills all afternoon. And now it was half past booze o’clock. A perfect end to a perfect day.

“I got you your favorite. Happy birthday, loser,” Iba announced, sliding a fizzy blue concoction bristling with fruit on toothpicks down the table.

“Maybe you should give him a chance to catch his breath,” Big Maki suggested. “Zaraki shots are no joke.”

“This is catching my breath,” Renji replied, fishing out a pineapple chunk and eating it. Iba always got him this tropical shit as a joke, and Renji always drank them, absolutely stonefaced, as though curly straws and paper umbrellas were just standard issue drinking equipment. The joke was on Iba, to be honest, these damn things were delicious.

“Where is the birthday booooooy?” a musical voice trilled.

Renji’s head whipped around, which immediately made him very dizzy. He waved his hand enthusiastically.

“Don’t get up,” Yumichika warned, standing and beckoning more staidly. “He’s over here! He’s pretty well soaked already.”

Suddenly, there was a shapely pair of arms wrapped around Renji’s neck, and a more sensuous than necessary kiss pressed into his cheek. “Happy birthday, cute stuff!” Matsumoto said throatily. “That’s a fancy drink, can I have some?”

“Get your own!” Renji crowed cheerfully.

“Ha, ha, I would never,” the lieutenant of the Tenth laughed, sliding into the seat next to him, and then stealing a cherry out of his glass.

“I would not have guessed a bar called ‘Five Fingers of Death’ would serve fruity drinks,” Hisagi Shuuhei, Third Seat of the Ninth added, plopping down on Renji’s other side.

“Shuuhei!” Renji exclaimed.

Ever since he got promoted to Sixth Seat, Yumichika had been trying to get Renji involved in his larger social circle, which mostly orbited around Matsumoto. The fact that it included Hisagi, whom he had known in school, had been a pleasant surprise. He definitely remembered looking up to Hisagi in his youth, but since they had reconnected, Renji was continually struck with how cool the guy was, and also how good-looking.

“Well?” Renji demanded from Shuuhei, with a boldness that came from having enough sake in his gut to pickle a daikon. “Matsumoto paid up. Where’s my birthday present?”

Shuuhei laughed and planted a kiss on his other cheek, before fishing something that might have been a chunk of mango out of the blue monstrosity. Renji felt warm and happy. “Better buy me another drink, Iba,” he hooted, “Everyone’s stealing mine.”

“Buy your own, asshole” Iba rejoined merrily.

“That wasn’t your birthday present, by the way,” Matsumoto replied suggestively.

“Oh?” Renji asked, trying to raise an eyebrow, except that he couldn’t feel most of his face.

“A little bird,” Matsomoto went on, “who went to school with you, told me about a trick you used to do at the bar.”

Renji wracked his brains. He hadn’t done a lot of drinking in his school days, and certainly not a lot of drinking in bars, mostly because he’d been broke all the time.

“It wasn’t at the bar, it was at the gym,” Shuuhei clarified.

Realization hit Renji like a dropped free weight. He slammed his hands palm down on the tabletop excitedly. “Is it Bench Your Friends day?”

“You’re not benching me,” Yumichika immediately declared.

“What’s Bench Your Friends day?” Ikkaku demanded, intrigued.

“Bench press is a very efficient way to work your entire upper body,” Renji explained with the self-perceived gravitas that comes with being sloshed out of your gourd. “Free weights are a better way to build muscle, ‘cause you are responsible for your own balance and stability. Next step up from that, control-wise, is to bench press a person, especially if that person doesn’t particularly want to be bench-pressed.”

“Why would you let him do this to you?” Yumichika grimaced.

“Well, I really just want to see him bench press someone else, but I wouldn’t mind,” Matsumoto mused. “I think I would look very sexy being used as exercise equipment.”

“If you can bench Hisagi, I’ll let you try to bench me!” Ikkaku roared.

“I did not volunteer,” Hisagi pointed out.

“DEAL!” Renji bellowed.

🎉 🍹 💪

“UP!”

Renji blinked, slowly returning to present day reality. “Huh?”

“Pick me UP, Daddy! I want to do a high dive!”

“Alright, alright.”

It took two tries to get up from the lawn chair, but he made it. He took a long stretch, and made a show of flexing his upper arms for his daughter, who was completely unimpressed. Finally, he scooped her up and held her by the hips over his head. “You ready?”

“I am ready!” she announced, holding her arms over her head in a diving position.

“Here we go!” Renji yelled, and lowered her slowly into the rubber inflatable pool that was set up in their backyard. Ichika made a variety of poses on the way down, pointing her toes, making wide, elegant gestures with her arms. “Perfect 10,” Renji announced, when she was sitting in the pool, spitting water in a little fountain. “Do you want to go again?”

“I want to run around.”

“Go, then.”

Ichika leapt to her feet and went tearing, pell-mell around the yard again. Renji flopped back into his lawn chair and plopped his feet back in the pool.

It had been brutally hot all day, but the heat was finally starting to subside as evening came on. Akon had made the pool and brought it over last week for Nemu and Ichika to play in, because evidently, every time he set one up over at the 12th, it got “repurposed.” Renji did not want to know the details. Renji was a big fan of the pool. Ichika had been nominally playing in it all afternoon. Mostly, she was running around in her bathing suit, shouting. Occasionally, she would hurl herself into it, thoroughly splashing her father, and then run off again.

Rukia stepped onto the porch, sliding the door closed behind her with one foot. She’d changed from her shihakushou into a Living World style sundress that left her arms and legs bare. Even after a long day at work, she looked cheerful and gorgeous. Renji smiled fondly at her. After a long afternoon of chasing his toddler around, he was sure he looked like hot, damp dogshit.

Rukia made her way over to him, nimbly dodging Ichika as she serpentined her way around the yard. She held out a glass containing a pale green liquid. It was practically radiating cold. “I have made you,” she said, as Renji took it gratefully from her hand, “a margarita. I followed Uryuu’s directions very carefully and then doubled the alcohol.”

Renji took a sip as Rukia flopped into the lawn chair next to his, and slid her feet gracefully into the pool. “It’s perfect,” he declared. “You’re a genius.”

“Happy birthday,” Rukia said, tipping her head over onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry it wasn’t much.”

“What are you talking about?” Renji grunted. “I got to yell at my squad for 2 hours this morning, like I like. I spent all afternoon digging up worms with my amazing kid, and then my beautiful wife brought me take-out, so I didn’t have to cook. I am way too tired to actually go to the bar, but I don’t have to, because you brought this right to me, here, in my luxury cabana. Another one or two of these and I am definitely gonna be lights out. Can’t think of a more perfect birthday, to be honest.”

“Hmm, if we can get Ichika to go to sleep, I had some ideas for some things that could happen between margaritas number two and three.”

“Oh, really?” Renji asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Suddenly, Ichika crashed into his lap, wet, with bits of grass plastered up her legs. “DADDY!” she yelled. “Is it dessert time! Can we eat the taiyaki Mama brought home now?”

“The what Mama brought home?” he asked, faking surprise.

“Do you remember what a secret is?” Rukia reminded her daughter. “We talked about it?”

“But it’s time to eat them, so they aren’t secret anymore!”

“Yeah, Rukia, obviously,” Renji managed with a perfectly straight face.

“I would call you a traitor, but it’s your birthday, so I will go get you your fish waffles,” Rukia replied, shoving her drink into his free hand and pressing a kiss into the side of his temple.

“I LOVE TAIYAKI!” Ichika sang at the top of her lungs. “I WISH EVERYDAY WAS DADDY’S BIRTHDAAAAAAAAY!”

Renji admired the way his wife’s rear end swayed as she headed back into the house. He contemplated whether he could still drink out of two glasses at the same time, another old bar trick he was once modestly famous for. “Me, too, kid,” he agreed. “Me, too.”

[what-is-your-plan-today]

CSI Rogers and Barnes Ch 12: An Excelsior Turn Of Events

Part 2 Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing​

REMINDER! Episode Warnings: Bad Language words.

Make sure you read Part 1 first!!!

Steve looked up, frowning slightly as he saw Katie walk into the office, followed by Fury.

"Sir?" He looked from Katie to his boss, as he stood up from his desk "I wasn't expecting to see you today?"

Fury closed the door and strode over the room, taking the seat that Steve gestured towards. Katie sat down next to him, her eyes following Steve back round the desk as he looked at her once more, shrugging slightly as he sat down.

"Well I wasn't anticipating being here." Fury said, his eyes looking around the room before he glanced back at Steve "That was until I received a very interesting call yesterday. From a concerned member of your team."

Steve glanced at Katie who had suddenly paled.

"What about?" he asked, his eyes flicking back to Fury.

"You two." he said simply. "How you are..." Fury waved a hand, "Dating, or whatever you want to call it."

Shit.

"Sir, look, this-" Steve started to speak but Fury simply held his hand up.

"I didn't need the call to tell me." he implored, looking at Steve then Katie "I may only have one eye but I’m not blind…”

Katie took a deep breath and looked to Steve, for once she was lost for words. Steve locked his lips and then took a deep breath "You know, Sir, technically we're not breaking any rules as Stark reporting to Coulson."

Fury raised an eyebrow, an amused look on his face “That’s a very small loophole Captain…"

"But a loophole nonetheless..." Katie responded. Furry turned to face her, almost as if he was considering her point before he shook his head.

"Yes, but it is also irrelevant as I’m pulling you back to New York permanently, Stark, and ending your secondment.”

Steve let out a sigh, he wasn't surprised. He knew from the various calls and emails he had with Coulson that the Captain was getting restless about not knowing what was going on but he hadn't wanted to trouble Katie about it anymore, especially when she was struggling to make a decision about what to do. He wanted it to be her decision and hers alone, despite what he had said the previous night. He wanted her back, of course he did, but whatever she decided he was adamant they would work through it. But now, that decision had been taken out of her hands.

He watched as Katie, showing no emotion other than a blink of surprise, which unless you knew her you would miss. "Can I ask why?” she said, her voice even.

“Coulson is a body down, and he can’t sustain it any longer so he needs to recruit permanently." Fury replied simply "I'm sure I don't need to tell you, but you can’t come back to the 101, unless you two end it…and I wouldn’t want to make you do that. Who am I to interfere with affairs of the heart…” he said with a slight smile.

"So you’re gonna assign me to another precinct?” Katie asked, her voice still passive but Steve could see from the look in her eyes she was trying not to display how disappointed she was, despite the fact that they had both known this would happen the minute they went public.

“I spoke to Captain Holt yesterday afternoon. He is more than happy to welcome you back to the 99…or I can look for-“

“No…” Katie cut him off, shaking her head. "I have to leave the 101 then the 99 is where I’d want to go.”

Steve let out a soft sigh of relief. Going back to the 99 from both a professional point of view and a personal one was the best outcome they could have asked for. They all knew her, so she wasn't going to have to prove herself all over again to a set of new colleagues. Plus he knew Captain Holt to be a fair man and a great Captain, even if his style was completely different to his own. He'd make sure she was looked after.

Fury nodded, smiling "I thought you might say that. I'll get HR to raise the paperwork as soon as I get back. You can finish up the week here and then until the transfer goes through you'll be placed on paid leave..."

At that Katie frowned "You're taking me off the case?"

"Sir, is that really necessary?" Steve began to protest "I mean, Katie's been with this from-"

“Captain, I’m sorry but it could lead to all sorts of problems." Fury shook his head "All it takes is for a defence lawyer gets a sniff of this and it’s enough of a chink for them to exploit accusing you of being distracted, our eyes not being on the prize so to speak...”

"Oh, come on Nick…” Steve scoffed, shaking his head "That's an insult to both of us! Do you seriously think we can't-"

“Steve, it's fine." Katie shook her head looking at him. "I get it.”

Steve held her gaze as she took a deep breath, he could see she was upset but had resigned herself to this being the way it had to be. He looked at her, frantically trying to reassure her in some way, and in some ways apologise about the fact that it was her professional career that was, once again, being tipped upside down because of him, but she simply shrugged and he saw her stoic front slip slightly as she turned to Fury, blinking back the tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Stark." Fury sighed, and Steve could see he was being genuine. And from the sounds of it so did Katie.

“I understand Sir. May I be dismissed?”

“Yes” Fury nodded, looking at her.

Katie rose from her seat, nodding to him then to Steve “Captain…”

He looked at her for a moment, knowing full well she was proving a point, being professional so he waved her away and she left pulling the door closed behind her.

As soon as the door shut Steve turned to Fury shaking his head. “I can’t believe you’re pulling her off this…”

“Officially, yes.” Fury remarked, looking at something on the ceiling. Steve frowned, watching as the man turned his face to Steve and levelled him with a look "But I can’t be responsible for what she has access to or sees in her spare time now can I?”

Steve understood instantly and shook his head, snorting, a smile playing on his face. “Fury, you son of a bitch…”

“Ooh, hooo, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Fury looked back at him. Steve raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling a little calmer about the situation. If they could keep Katie working this on the low, it was better than nothing. Sadly, it meant she wouldn't get any of the plaudits should they solve the case but it was better than nothing. She wasn't about glory, merely doing the job and doing the job well. And the reason he had asked her to come back from DC was because she was one of the best Officers he knew.

“Now." Fury looked at Steve "About Miss Maximoff…”

Steve frowned, as Fury held his gaze, before it clicked in his mind and he gave a low groan "She was the one that called?"

“You know I can't officially tell you that, but, well I'm not letting her off scot free.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t like disloyalty” Fury shook his head, “Yes you and Stark were breaking rules, but as it's a dumbass rule I elected to ignore it. That is until she called. Anyway, I'm giving you the opportunity to have her transferred as well…to Statten Island. We'll call it career development."

Steve snorted “She can go, I’ll pack her stuff myself”

Fury laughed “I’ll let you deliver the news to her then. As soon as you give me the nod, I’ll sort you another assistant too. You may have to share with another precinct until we can recruit but…”

Steve nodded.

“I’m sorry.” Fury apologised again as he rose from his seat, and Steve shook his head as he too stood.

“It's fine Sir. We both knew that this would happen at some point.”

“Some risks are worth taking though, huh?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Steve smiled.

“Well, for what it's worth Howard would be pleased.” Fury nodded "He thought very highly of you, often stated he wished the pair of you would wake up and see what was right in front of you."

Steve let out a chuckle "He must have been speaking to my ma."

"They knew each other didn't they?"  Fury asked.

"Yeah, childhood friends." Steve smiled.

"Hmm." Fury mused, before he looked around and dropped his voice "On the subject of Howard..." Steve took a breath, the words  'trust no one' echoing in his head from the video.  He had no doubt in his mind he could trust Fury, but still he hesitated for a moment before he answered as honestly as he coul.

"I know what you’re gonna say and yes, Katie cracked the encryption. We just…well, we need time to work through what we found. When we do, I’ll let you know.”

Fury nodded “Ok”

With that he held out his hand, Steve shook it, and then Fury swept out of the office. ***** The door to Steve's office opened and Bucky looked up to see Katie striding out. He could tell instantly she was upset but as he opened his mouth she shook her head at him to tell him to keep quiet. Doing as she asked, he simply watched as she sat down at her computer, simply staring at the screen. He could see clearly from her eyes that she wasn't reading or doing anything. He looked over at Clint who looked at him, before they both glanced at Natasha. She was leaning back in her chair, shooting daggers at Wanda, who was in turn completely ignoring her. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Fury had gotten wind of what was going on between Steve and Katie, and it also didn't take a genius to figure out who had tipped him off. No one spoke for a few moments, until the door to Steve's office opened again and Fury strode out, followed shortly by the Captain. And for the first time in his life, Bucky found himself unable to get a read on his best friend, which in itself was unnerving.

"Wanda, can I have a word please?" Steve spoke, his tone even and polite.  Wanda looked at him, her face slipping before she stood up and followed him. As soon as the door shut behind them Bucky sat up straight and looked at Katie. "What's going on?" "Someone blew the whistle, on me and Steve." she said simply, her eyes turning back to him from where they had been fixed on a door "And you don't need to be Einstein to figure out who..." "Sneaky bitch." Natasha sighed, shaking her head.

"So I'm being pulled back from DC and moved over the 99."  Katie shrugged.

"But after we solve the case, right?" Clint said, his tone hopeful. Katie shook her head and both Clint and Natasha let out exclamations of anger.

"It's fine." Katie shook her head, "We knew the risks and if I had to choose a precinct to go to it would be the 99. I know everyone, I enjoyed it there and Holt is a good man so..." with that she stood up "I'm gonna get another coffee, anyone-" But before she could finish her sentence the door to Steve's office flew open and Wanda came blazing out, a look of rage on her face as she bee lined for Katie.

"You fucking bitch." she hissed, and before anyone could move she'd launched herself at the Sergeant, her hand raised, nails flying at her face like a cat would swipe with its claws. Katie gave a yell as Wanda attacked her and Bucky flew from his seat, but before he had a chance to intervene Katie had stepped back slightly and her right hand drew back, her fist connecting straight with Wanda's nose, a loud crack ringing around the office as the place erupted into pandemonium. Shouts and the general kerfuffle associated with a fight filled the air as Bucky grabbed hold of Katie, pulling her back whilst Steve quickly appeared, stepping in between the two women as Wanda picked herself up of the floor, slapping away Natasha's offer of help.

"She hit me...." Wanda spat, wiping at her nose which was billowing blood.

"Give me a chance and I'll do it again, you spiteful little-" "ENOUGH!" Steve bellowed, silencing the office. "I won't stand for this, you hear me? I'm running a fucking Police Department not a goddamned school yard..." "Look what she did to my nose!" Wanda spat, grabbing a tissue from the box Clint was holding out. Bucky noticed the man wasn't even looking at Wanda as he did so, he was looking at Katie, his eyebrow raised.

"Look what you did to her cheek." Clint shrugged, and Bucky turned to Katie, Steve doing the same, both men frowning as they saw the nail marks down the side of her cheek, which were also bleeding.

Katie raised her hand to her face and let out a loud noise of annoyance through her nose as she looked at the blood on her hand. "Fucks sake..." "You ok?" Steve looked at her, Bucky could tell he was fighting the urge to sweep her into his arms, trying to remain professional and Katie simply nodded.

"I was until she came flying out of your office and went loco." "That's true." Clint offered "She went for Stark first."

“They’re transferring me because of you…” Wanda hissed, looking at Katie. Bucky saw Stark blink before she grinned a little and let out a laugh.

"Looks your little stunt back fired slightly then didn’t it you stupid bitch!”

“God you really think you’re fucking special…” Wanda spat at her “Fuck knows what on Earth-“

“I said enough..." Steve spoke again, cutting her off, his voice firm but calm. He looked at Katie and spoke to her gently "Go sort your face and take an early lunch…”

She looked at him, but Bucky knew she was clever enough to recognise when she was being dismissed. She simply nodded her agreement and grabbed her jacket and her bag. He looked at Natasha who was already moving, giving him a nod as she picked up her purse and followed Stark out of the room.

Once they were gone, Steve turned to Wanda. “Wanda, you moving has nothing to do with Stark, it was Fury’s idea. He feels your career needs development." "Bullshit." Wanda spat, "This is nothing more than petty revenge." "Ok you want the truth?" Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Bucky watched, a smile playing on his face. It wasn't often Steve got the urge to break rules but this was clearly one of them. "Fury doesn’t like disloyalty and neither do I. Simply put a Captain can’t have people on his team they don’t trust. You going behind my back to Fury was sneaky and spiteful and he won’t stand for it and neither will I.”

Wanda glared at him as she wiped her nose with a tissue, Steve continuing.

"But that's off the record and I'll deny it, as will Fury." he shrugged. “Get to medical, and then you can take the next 2 weeks paid leave. After that you’ll be heading over to Statten Island.”

At that Clint let out a snort "Statten Island…"

"Shut up Barton." Steve snapped, and Bucky bit back the smirk that was threatening to cross his own face. Statten Island was known to be the most boring precinct in New York.

“You can stick your transfer.” Wanda shook her head “I quit”

There was a slight pause before Steve shrugged  "Ok. I accept your resignation. You can clear your desk and I’ll inform HR. No need to work your notice. I’ll ensure you’re paid for it.”

With that he turned and headed back to his office. Bucky leaned back in his chair, pride swelling in his chest at the way Steve had, albeit very subtly, stood up for his girl. But Wanda just couldn't let it lie.

"Why do you like her?” she blurt out. Steve paused, and turned back to face her.

“Excuse me?”

“Stark…why do you like her? I just don’t get it.”

“I don’t like her Wanda.” Steve shrugged, “I love her” and with that he walked back into his office, closing the door.

A silence fell over the office as Bucky and Clint exchanged a look. Bucky noticed Clint wasn't even trying to hide the enormous grin that had spread across his face.

"Well, that was entertaining..." he said, leaning back in his chair "What next? Naked mud wrestling?" "Fuck you." Wanda spat, as she moved to her desk.

Clint stood up, and retrieved a box from under his desk. "Here, once you've had your nose seen to you'll need that for your stuff. I'll help you carry it down to your car."

"Thanks." she said, taking it from him.

Clint nodded, and turned away muttering to Bucky under his breath. "Just to make sure she actually leaves."

******

"I still can't believe she quit, just like that." Katie shook her head "I mean, that's a really dumbass move." "Well, I think it was her pride more than anything." Steve shrugged, turning left out of the car lot. "I'll give it a few days, see if she changes her mind. I doubt it though, she'll be pissed for sure after what I said to her."

"What do you mean?" Katie asked.

"Well she wasn't letting go that easily." Steve said, glancing in the mirror. "So she asked me why I liked you."

Katie gave a scoff from her seat.

"I told her I didn't." Steve continued, side glancing at her as he spoke "But that I love you." A soft smile spread across her face and she turned to look at him, "You did?" "Course, its true." he said, his eyes locking onto hers for a moment before he turned them back to the road. "Maybe if I'd done it sooner it would have put a stop to her bitching and you wouldn't have fingernail marks down your face."

Katie shook her head "That's not your fault Steve. We both decided to try and keep it quiet remember? And I outed us anyway, that's what tipped her over the edge." "Honey, it was going to come out anyway at some point, I told you that yesterday.  But, maybe if I'd stepped up and stopped her stupid little antics beforehand, even without mentioning you...”

"Stevie." she cut him off, shaking her head "Just, don't think about it anymore. It's done. We have a way forward and in a way I'm relieved." "You are?" "Yeah, I mean ok I'm not happy about having to leave the 101 but you know I love the guys at 99 and it means we don't have to hide anymore. Finally there's absolutely nothing stopping us. We can do things like lunch together or breakfast together or grab a coffee on breaks without looking over our shoulders. We don't have to date in secret... it makes it more...I dunno, real. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, yeah it does." Steve smiled, it made perfect sense. Sneaking around had made them feel like they were doing something wrong, but now it was out they were free to just be together, like they had waited for so damned long to be. They fell into a comfortable silence, Steve stopping at the light, glancing out to his left he spotted a flower stall on the side of the road. That was something he hadn't done for Katie yet, bought her some flowers. He knew her favourites were calla lilies and daisies, and he was just making a mental note to remember to get her some at some point soon when she spoke his name and nodded to indicate the lights had turned green.

"I really, really don't like this car." Steve mumbled as it failed to accelerate to his liking when he put his foot down. "Sooner the insurance company sort my pay out the better."

"What's wrong with it?" Katie asked, turning to face him.

"It's just all wrong." he shrugged.

"And you call me a brat." she chuckled.

Steve gave a snort "They said like for like hire replacement." he glanced at her "I had a Q5, this is not a Q5.”

“I know, it's an A5”

“Exactly, it's not the same." he concluded.

“Has a 5 in it.” she shrugged, her eyes focussed on the road ahead of them but he could see her mouth curling up into a smirk.

"Doll, just don’t…” he said, and she turned her head to face him, the angry red scratches on her cheek standing out against her smooth skin.

“Can I put my feet on the dash in this one?”

Steve glared at her

“What, it’s not yours.” she continued.

“I’m borrowing so no, you can’t."

Giving a chuckle she reached out with her left hand for his right as it lay on the centre arm rest between them, pulling it over onto her lap, her fingers playing with his as she looked down at his hand, tracing shapes on his palm. He'd noticed it was something she did as they sat watching TV at night, something she hadn't done to him before she'd taken his hand in the car that night after the Christmas Party. Steve understood why, because in a way it felt really intimate. And he liked it.

“I like this car better anyway” she said, her eyes flicking back up to his face.

“Why?”

“It’s sleeker and sexier." she shrugged "The other one was too sensible. It was something a dad would drive.”

“A Daddy’s car, huh?” Steve looked at her, grinning.

“That’s not what…oh whatever.” she snorted, shaking her head as he gave her a little smirk, before he saw one flicker across her face too.

“I think Ari had a Q5 actually…”

“Oh come on!” Steve spluttered as she let out a loud laugh “Don’t make me smack the stupid off of you…”

“There was nothing stupid about Ari” Katie said, with a dramatic, over the top nostalgic sigh, teasing him.

“I said off you." Steve looked at her "I don’t know that Ari guy…”

“He’s not a guy, he’s a man. You’re a guy.”

“I’m a guy?”

“Yeah…” she turned to look at him “My guy.”

“That line is as shit as this car.”

Katie's laugh turned into a groan “Oh not again Steve…it takes you to places, that’s more than enough.”

Steve chuckled, pulling his hand up bringing hers with it to place a soft kiss to the back just underneath her knuckles.

“Still think you were dumb getting rid of the mustang…” she said as he let her fingers go, moving his hand back to the wheel so he could take a left turn.

“Well it was 3 years old and…” he stopped himself dead from finishing his sentence, but as ever he wasn't going to get away with it.

“What?” Katie asked

“Nothing…”

“Steve..." her tone was warning and he sighed, realising she wouldn't let it drop.

"Well, and Peggy didn’t like it.” he shrugged “Said I needed something more sensible.”

“Oh Fuck Peggy.” Katie shook her head and he turned to her, his eyebrow raised "I liked it. In fact, I think you should get one when your money comes through…”

“We’ll see…” he shrugged. If truth be told that Mustang had been the nicest car he'd owned, and his favourite. It was fun to drive, moved like you wouldn't believe and the growl it had when you put your foot on the gas was enough to make him purr with delight every time he did it. Maybe another one wasn't such a bad idea.

After another 10 minutes or so they reached the graveyard and Steve pulled the car into a spare space. The two of them climbed out, and Steve took Katie’s hand in his as they walked down the path.

“He said the first row, furthest one to the right…” Katie mused, as they wound their way through the various memorials and monoliths, before they reached the new stone. Steve shivered slightly, this whole thing was a little too creepy for his liking.

It wasn’t long until Katie nudged him and nodded towards a small, elderly looking man that was striding towards them, a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes, a hat pulled down over his head. He stopped besides them, looking down at the grave before he spoke.

“You do look like your mother.” he said, looking at Katie, before his face turned to Steve and the Captain saw the lines at the end of his eyes crinkle in a smile “I thought you’d be taller.”

“Sir, I don’t know-“ Steve began but the man pulled a face.

“I don’t want to be here longer than possible so we don’t have time for pleasantries, my apologies.” he said gently, “I’ll get straight to the point.”

He reached inside his jacket and Steve stiffened slightly, placing himself in between Katie and the man as he suddenly realised he had no idea what the guy was concealing. His hand reached for the gun on his hip, and he thought he had been subtle about it, but he realised he hadn’t as Katie gently squeezed his arm and the man chuckled.

“And they say chivalry is dead, a fine trait Captain.” he nodded as he pulled out a manila file and what looked like a video disc.

“What’s this?”  Katie asked, reaching out to take it.

“Information in the form of a video of an interview and associated documentation. The documents belonged to your father and he gave me a copy of them so that I could continue to dig into things should he…” the man sighed, looking at her.

“Should something happen to him?” Katie swallowed.

The man gave her a sympathetic look, before he continued. “To cut a long story short, Howard uncovered a conspiracy within the NYPD one that I believe to be linked to your case.”

Katie took the file off him, and began to flick through the notes whilst Steve took the disc.

“The cover up involved Brock Rumlow.” the man spoke and Steve’s eyes snapped to Katie’s as she looked at him, then to the man “You see, after what happened to you, my dear, your dad pushed and pushed for Rumlow to be sacked but in the end he was allowed to resign…” “We know all this.” Steve said, a little impatiently. “I was there, we both were…” “Yes, but the thing is Howard took it personally, and wouldn’t let it lie so he started to dig into the rape case, off radar. As a consequence he discovered a huge cover up. Someone was paid to give Rumlow an alibi.” Katie shook her head, “I fucking knew it…” she turned to the man “Let me guess, the money came from Ross?”

He nodded “he was being blackmailed by someone, someone who had compromising photos.”

“Yeah we saw.” Steve said.

The elderly man pulled a face. “I wish I hadn’t…but, anyway. Ross also put pressure on Schmidt to get Sara Klein to drop the case.”

Steve looked at Katie who let out a sigh. “Who? Who was it that was pulling the strings?”

“He never said. Not directly, however you’ll find the answer in there just as I did.” he said, “Now, please forgive me, but I really do need to go. I can’t be seen in the area. It would severely compromise my cover.” He turned to go and Steve frowned, watching him for a second, until Katie stepped forward a little.

“And my parents?” Katie looks at him “Do you think they were killed like Fury does?”

The man sighed “I remain suspicious about how your parents died.” he said, looking down “Because it happened the day after your dad gave me the interview.” he nodded to the file

“The interview is my dad?” Katie frowned.

He nodded.

“You’re a reporter?” Steve stated, and the man nodded.

“I was, a long time ago. When Ross was murdered it piqued my interest and then when Sitwell turned up too, then Schmidt…well, it was too much to be a coincidence…especially seeing as the murderer you’re tracking is using the same MO as what may or may not have happened to your parents. I couldn’t deny it or keep it hidden any longer.”

Katie shook her head “You should have come forward sooner! My parents deserved that at least.”

Steve placed his hand on her shoulder, she was getting worked up he could see that and he didn’t blame her. Not one bit.

“I’m not proud of it Miss Stark…but I had a wife and I wasn’t going to put her in danger not unnecessarily. Then the murders started and, well, they can’t kill you if you’re already dead…” the man said simply, nodding to the grave they were stood in front of “And if they put me in the ground next to her then, so be it…”

“I can organise protection…” Steve offered, and the man shook his head, smiling

“Captain, I’m almost 80 years old. If my time is up…well, at least I can go with a clear conscience now. Good luck to both of you. Excelsior.” And with that he left. Steve watched him go, feeling pretty uneasy about how much of a target this was going to put on his back but he was distracted when Katie spoke.

“Well, at least we know his name, look.”

Steve did as was told “In memory of Joan Lee, beloved wife to Stan…” he trailed off as he read the rest of the tribute, before he reached the short epitaph at the bottom. “ How lucky I was to have had something that made saying goodbye so hard. Excelsior…where have I seen or heard that word before?” Steve looked at Katie, “Excelsior I mean?”

“It’s on the coat of arms of the state of New York.” she answered “It’s Latin, translates as ‘ever upwards’, or ‘even higher’, words to that effect.”

Steve blinked “How do you remember this stuff?”

“Guess it just kinda stuck with me from the academy.” she shrugged, before she gave a shiver and looked down at the file “Let’s get out of here and see what this says.” They made their way back to Steve’s, deeming it the safest place to go through the information, without fear of being interrupted. Whilst they drove, Katie googled Stan Lee and discovered he had been an investigative journalist, one that was noted for his hard hitting and unbiased articles and his detailed work with the NYPD, having worked with them on a few notorious cases.

When they arrived at the apartment, Katie told Steve she didn’t want to watch the video, not unless they absolutely needed to. She said wanted to focus more on the other pieces of information and evidence that had come with the file but Steve suspected it also had something to do with the emotions she would no doubt feel at seeing her father on screen again over 5 years after he had died. He didn’t say anything though, simply agreed, and as such, they were sat on the floor by the couch, paper spread all over the floor as they sifted through, trying to find the answer to their question, which Lee had assured them was in there.

“Why didn’t he just fucking tell us?” Katie grumbled, reaching out for another piece of paper.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Steve sighed, as his eyes scanned the transcript of the interview between Howard and Lee that was contained on the disc “Maybe he enjoys the idea of people finding links for themselves, you know, making the connections through easter eggs, I don’t know…”

“He could have at least given us a clue, you know? Some kind of…I dunno, indication of where to look…” she mumbled before she trailed off as she frowned, looking at the item she had just picked up. She scrambled for another piece she had dropped onto a pile before and placed them both flat on the floor “Stevie, look at this.”

He moved so he could see the papers side by side, his eyes flicking over the information. The first was a copy of a birth certificate. “Unnamed boy…DOB December 5th 1976… Mother Alana Bevon…”

“Now look at this one…” She tapped the one to the right. His eyes feel wide as he read the information, “It’s a death certificate…for Alana Bevon…fuck, she died in childbirth, aged 16?” “Yup, and this is an Adoption order. Said un-named male baby was adopted…by a Mrs and Mrs Rumlow…”

“Rumlow was adopted?”  Steve’s eyebrows raised as she placed that piece of paper down on the floor on top of the birth certificate. She made a noise of agreement as she reached for the next document that had come in that particular bunch from the file and paused.

“Holy fucking shit…” she whispered, her eyes wide.

“Doll?” Steve frowned “What is it?”

Wordlessly she handed him a piece of paper. It was a letter confirming a set of DNA results. Dated 2 days before Howard died. As he read the information he felt his blood run cold and he blinked a few times to make sure he was reading it correctly.

“This…Chief Pearce is Rumlow’s biological father? He got a 16 year old pregnant?”

“It explains why he would be shielding him…years of guilt…” Katie’s breathing was deep. “Fuck, Steve…this…this is insane.” “We need to call Fury…”  Steve’s logical brain kicked in, thankfully, and he pulled his phone out of his pocket, frowning as it immediately began to light up in his hand. It was Bucky.

“Buck, sorry pal but I gotta call Fury, we made a breakthrough, its Pearce…the guy who’s been covering up for Rumlow…” he answered but Bucky cut him off with a sigh.

“Well that’s unfortunate. Because I just got a call from Thor. Pearce was found dead in his car about 30 minutes ago”

[thechildoflightning]

Pumpkin Ch2- Funnel

Title: Pumpkin [Masterpost]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: LAMP/CALM

~~~

Chapter Title: Funnel- Chapter Two

Summary: 

Family traditions are something Virgil’s never really had in a good way before. He had traditions- rituals- in his life once. But they weren’t the good kind. After, well his father had tried and they did have small traditions. But for the most part, Virgil never had that chance, never had the chance to create small little traditions with his family.

And now he does. He has that chance.

Warnings: 

[ao3 link]

~~~

Funnel- Chapter Two

It’s Kit who sees the pony first, just as they finally escape from the maze. His ears go on end and his nose points towards it, attention singularly focused on the mysterious animal.

“Kit,” Roman chides, not realizing yet what had caught his attention.

Kit turns back to Roman, focus waving between him and the pony, obviously wanting to behave but being distracted by the new animal and scents.

“He sees the pony,” Virgil comments, following Kit’s line of sight.

Roman turns, and his eyes light up.

“He hasn’t seen a pony before,” Logan notes from next to them. Virgil nods, and they walk towards the small animal pens.

Kit goes with them, enthusiastic but cautious. His ears are pricked up and his nose is sniffing like crazy, trying to decipher all the smells. 

When they reach the fence, Kit goes right up to it, sniffing at the pony. The pony looks down at him in equal interest and leans down to meet Kit. The pony gives a wide snort, nostrils flaring, and Kit darts back a few paces before cautiously coming forward. He reaches through the fence and wacks the pony’s nose.

“Kit!” Virgil says unsure whether to laugh or admonish the pup. The pony sees fine and there’s no harm done, but Kit also can’t go around batting animals. Though to be fair, the pony is also something he has never seen before.

Virgil just settles for shaking his head, not bothering to correct it unless it happens again. He’ll keep an eye out, that’s enough for now.

“Look, there’s ducklings,” Patton says, pointing over to one of the enclosures. The follow his lead to the new fenced off area where a few ducks and numerous ducklings lie. Starting there, they go down the line, cooing at all the animals that are particularly cute. They get to the pigs later, and Logan reads out the names for them on the plaque.

Virgil doesn’t pay much attention, eyes locked on the critters, but the last name makes him pause.

“Wait what did you say the pig was named?” Virgil asked.

“Waddles,” Logan said.

“That’s from a thing. I don’t know what thing. But it’s from a thing. What’s it from?”

His spouses give him shrugs so Virgil pulls out his phone to check. He knows it’s from something, and it’ll bug him all day if he doesn't check now.

“Gravity Falls,” he says outloud, “It’s from Gravity Falls.”

“Oh yeah!” Patton says, “Yeah it’s Mabel’s pig.”

“Who’s Mabel?” Virgil asks.

“You know Waddles but not Mabel?”

“No,” Virgil shakes his head and tries to figure it out, “Like- I recognize both names. But I don’t know from what.”

He searches up Mabel from Gravity Falls, and he suddenly knows where he’s seen the cute animation style before.

“Picani,” he realizes, “Picani has a poster in his office.”

Well- Picani has many posters in his office. But there’s definitely a Gravity Falls one now that Virgil thinks about it. With a boy and a girl in the center with a pig and somewhere in the background there’s a floating triangle with an eye. Oh and a weird uncle.

“Hmm,” Patton hums, “We should watch it. It’s a good show. Cute. About these two twins who go spend the summer with their great uncle where a bunch of weird supernatural stuff happens. I think there would definitely be triggers for you though. We can check ‘Does the Dog Die?.’”

“Oh I think my sister’s seen this show!” Roman chimes in, “Wait is one of the twins trans? I’m like 90% sure she said one of them was trans. Or both. Was it both?”

“...Technically neither of them are trans?” Patton admits, “But they’re both trans now. Because I’m trans and I say so.”

“Valid,” Virgil says.

He’s quickly followed by Roman’s, “Mood.”

“Did Esther like the show?” Logan asks.

“Hmm? Oh uh- I think so?” Roman replies, face scrunching up into an adorable frown, “I can ask.”

“Is there actually any queer representation in it?”

“I think so,” Patton says, “There was something and I know it was a big deal but I don’t remember exactly.”

Logan hums and turns back to the pigs.

“Which one’s Waddles?” Logan asks.

“I think that one?” Roman says, pointing at the one in the far corner. “It has the same spots as the picture.”

Logan nods, and they stare at the pigs a bit longer before moving on.

The goats are last and by far the most fun. They seemed to almost play with each other, bleating and jumping around. They also engage in a bit of staring and bouncing with Kit and Trixie. The goats seem fascinated and entertained by the pups, and the pups seem equally fascinated and entertained in return.

In fact, they got so caught up in watching the goats and dogs tease each other, that they completely missed the last goat.

“Ow!” Roman yelps, falling back from the fence.

“What?!” Virgil responds instantly, narrowing in on Roman for any signs of harm or injury.

“It bit me!” Roman complains loudly.

“What?”

“The goat! It bit me!”

“Are you okay?” Virgil presses, still worried.

“Oh yeah I’m fine,” Roman easily dismisses. “But hey! It bit me! And it chewed through my jeans!”

He turns to face the tree of them, pointing out the chewed away fabric near his knee.

Patton stifles a giggle, leaning into Virgil’s side at the sight as Roman continues to look highly offended.

Roman ignores them, and instead struts right back over to the goats.

“That wasn’t nice,” he says directly to the goat that bit him, “That wasn’t nice at all. You’re mean.”

“The goat doesn’t understand you,” Logan inputs, “In addition I very much doubt  it has the capacity to consciously make a choice to be mean or unkind or to feel similar complex emotions and intend to perform actions that follow through with those complex emotions. But I’m unsure. I don’t know much about goats. But it is a goat Roman.”

“I don’t care!” Roman says loudly.

Logan shrinks ever so minutely. Roman still isn’t facing them.

“I don’t care,” Roman repeats, and carries on, “Your goat facts are very interesting Logan, thanks for sharing.” Logan straightens a bit, and bounces on his toes. “But I’m human and I’m going to project my goddamn emotions on these evil goats if I so please.”

Patton continues to snort into Virgil’s side. Virgil wraps an arm around him and watches the entertaining interaction.

“As long as you’re aware that you’re projecting your emotions onto the goat,” Logan supports.

“Heck yeah. They’re mean goats. I’m doing the healthy anger projection thing. What’s that called?”

“You’re generally discouraged from projecting in therapy,” Patton adds, the same time Virgil adds, “Equine Therapy.”

“Oh yeah, animal-assisted therapies are a good example,” Patton agrees, “Cause sometimes we need to project. But projecting onto actual people can hurt them and hurt our relationships with them. Projecting onto animals can create a healthy release for certain emotions when done in a proper setting. Equine therapy is a great example of that.”

Roman nods, still glaring at the tiny goat in front of him.

“I’m calling this mad-at-goats therapy,” he declares, before giving one last piercing stare at the ‘evil’ goat, before his face softens. “He’s kinda cute though. Now I feel bad for him. I’m sorry goat.” He reaches his hand back over the fence and the goat sniffs it gently. “Hey can we get a pet goat?”

A quick flip from hating goats to loving them isn’t exactly something Virgil would expect from most people, but from Roman it’s hardly a surprise.

“I’m vetoing goats,” Virgil informs him.

Roman grumbles, faux annoyed.

“We all agreed when moving in with Virgil that he got veto rights on any pets,” Logan mentions at Roman’s grumbling.

At the comment, Roman finally turns back to face them at all.

“I know,” Roman says, “I was teasing. I don’t actually want a goat, and I’m not mad at Virgil for vetoing the goat even if I did want one. It was very kind of you to gently but firmly remind me of a preestablished agreement we had come to.”

Roman rejoins them, and they continue to stand in eyesight of the goat enclosure, while still being out of reach and out of the way of all the other people who want to check them out.

“Oh. Okay. I don’t want a goat either. I suspect they would need exercise, but seem very difficult to walk,” Logan muses.

They all glance over at the leaping animals.

“Yeah,” Virgil agrees, “We can barely manage a puppy as is.”

Patton gasps.

“Don’t talk about my son that way!” Patton insists, glancing down at Kit at his feet. He looks back at Virgil. “Can you pick him up for me?” Virgil nods and reaches down to pick up the small pup before trading the puppy for Patton’s cane so Patton can hold his small body in two hands.

“Don’t listen to them Kit,” Patton coos, “They’re just mean. You’re a lovely perfect darling who could never do anything wrong.”

“Hey! I thought I was the lovely perfect darling who could never do anything wrong!” Roman protests.

“No love. You’re the darling who decides it’s a smart idea to stand up on your desk during college to debate with a classmate and then fall off it and get a concussion.”

“Okay, that was once!” Roman argues, “And come on, it’s not fair using that against me twice in one day.”

Patton’s eyebrows knit together.

“I mentioned that earlier?” 

The sentence is much more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah. I almost fell off the hay bales in the corn maze,” Roman reminds.

“Ah right,” Patton nods, “I remember the hay bales You almost fell off?”

“I mean yes but nope. Completely fine. No near falls or misses or anything like that. But yes I almost fell.”

“He almost face planted,” Virgil supports.

“But I didn’t!” Roman says, voice rising at the end.

“You need to be more careful,” Patton chides. A shifts on his feet a bit and grimances slightly, “We don’t need someone splitting open their head at the pumpkin patch.”

A searing picture burns through Virgil’s mind. One of human skull and brain matter. Of blood and bones and-

Trixie presses against his leg. Virgil shakes the past from his mind and takes an even breath.

“Virge?”

“Hm?” Virgil responds, turning his gaze back to Patton as Trixie stays at his side. Patton watches him carefully. 

“Oh, I’m good,” Virgil says, soothing Patton’s concern.

Patton nods and shifts again. Kit squirms lightly in his hands.

“Want to trade back?” Patton asks, nodding at his cane.

They switch again, and Kit gets transferred to Roman’s arms after Virgil instead of back to the ground. Roman holds him close and gives small cooing noises as Kit squirms enthusiastically at the attention.

“Can we sit?” Patton asks, “My hip’s hurting.”

The group quickly agrees and they find an open bench nearby. They take a minute, just sitting, taking in the scenery. The pumpkin patch is large, and the actual pumpkin patch part of the pumpkin patch is even larger. The fields stretch off into one direction, quite a few people wandering around them to pick their own pumpkins.

“We should get funnel cake,” Roman says abruptly.

“Oh yes.”

“I’ve actually never had funnel cake,” Virgil admits.

“What?” Roman says, whipping to catch Virgil’s gaze and mouth hanging slightly opened, “You’ve never had funnel cake? Ever?”

Virgil’s told his spouses a lot of weird, fucked up things over the years. But of course this simple detail about a dessert he has yet to try would be one of the things that managed to shock Roman completely.

“We didn’t exactly get dessert in a doomsday cult,” Virgil explains, voice light.

“Okay, first off, you weren’t in a doomsday cult just fucked up weird religious shit. Second of all, You had what…” Roman takes a moment to fumble over the dates, “fifteen-ish years since then. And you still haven’t had funnel cake.”

Of course Roman’s going to focus on the funnel cake. 

Virgil shrugs in response.

“Unacceptable, we’re definitely going to get funnel cake now. You have to try it.”

“Don’t make him try it,” Logan immediately jumps in.

Roman turns to him, seemingly a bit lost for words.

“...Why not?”

Logan taps his foot on the ground. Patton reaches up to settle a hand on his shoulder before thinking better and dropping it.

“It should be Virgil’s choice. Don’t make him.”

Logan’s gaze is downcast and his hands wring together in what Virgil knows is an anxious stim. Roman seems to recognize the stim for what it is as well, and his face and body relax.

“Oh of course,” Roman agrees, switching from light teasing to pure honesty, “Sorry I was probably a bit unclear. I meant that I suggest Virgil tries it, and I encourage him to, but if he really doesn’t want to, I’m not going to force him.”

Logan nods, but frowns. He starts rocking slightly.

“Lo? You alright?” Virgil asks.

“I think-” Logan hesitates, “I think I’m overstimulated. I feel- not bad… but not good. It’s- static, but not static? Buzzing perhaps. I think I’ll stay with Patton if you’re going to get funnel cake.”

“Would you like a firm hug? For a pressure stim? Or touching in a different way?” Patton asks.

“Don’t touch me,” Logan responds immediately.

Patton nods, and listens.

“Apologies,” Logan says after a minute, “That was rude. I meant-”

Logan doesn’t finish and scrunches his shoulders in towards his body, face still downcast.

“Are words hard right now Logan?”

Logan hesitates before nodding.

“Okay,” Patton replies, “Well I don’t need an apology. I think ‘don’t touch me’ is a perfectly fine way of communicating you wouldn’t like touch. It was direct, and some people may take it as rude, but I know that wasn’t your intention and that communicating is hard right. It was a fine way to say that.”

“Okay,” Logan agrees.

“Do we still want funnel cake?” Roman asks for a moment, looking at the group.

Virgil considers, “Yeah why not try it?”

“Heck yes,” Roman says, “that’s the type of attitude I like.”

Roman pulls Virgil away to go get funnel cake, giving Patton and Logan a bit of space in the meantime. It seems to help somewhat, because when the return with treat in hand, Logan looks much calmer and less overwhelmed.

Roman presents the funnel cake dramatically, causing Patton to giggle and Virgil to elbow him gently. They pass around forks and dig in.

Virgil has to admit it’s not half bad. He wouldn’t want it every day- the flavor and taste being much too overwhelming for everyday consumption. But the treat seems to fit in perfectly with today, and Virgil can appreciate that. Some foods are just made for certain occasions. Like latkes during Hanukkah.

They finish the treat, throwing away the trash before settling on a bench all together to make a decision on their next move.

“Pumpkins?” Patton asks.

There’s no objections, and as such, they all start moving towards the field of orange.

~~~

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[sworn-unbeliever]

05 - Matter of Fact

((Some Shadowbringers spoilers! Taking a break from the battoru stuff. Joey is my lalafell main and staple character everywhere. He has a barely-updated Tumblr at @without-school-or-style.))

wc: 2,132

Lakeland. Hardly a place to call a fun place for training and a campsite, let alone picnic, but those naysayers were not Teremy. And Joey, who followed Teremy out of mission and obligation. As Joey watched Teremy practice the usual martial arts and swordsmanship drills first thing in the morning, the lalafell mused various thoughts in his journal. Just watching the miqo’te acted as enough of a reminder of things that had happened. Beside Joey, a stone pot bubbled away merrily and a pan of vegetables and fish began to heat up.

A month had passed since the nephew and I started travelling through Norvrant together.

Joey made a side note to say that ‘the nephew’ nickname came from Teremy being raised by his aunt. Or perhaps as a reminder of a cartoonish hippo asking everyone in the vicinity if they wanted to see pictures of her nephew. Teremy seemed like that kind of person of whom people close to him would want to share pictures of him whether he’d like it or not.

Since our journeys started, we’ve traveled to Eulmore, Amh Araeng, and now we’re in Lakeland. We’ve had many adventures together! We witnessed the stark difference between the abject poverty of Gatetown’s slums compared to the splendor of Eulmore proper. The way people struggle to survive all over the world, but especially pronounced Amh Araeng. And we’ve just fought a lightwarden and brought back the night in Lakeland proper.

But since this was morning, Joey had plenty of light to write in. As well, watching the nephew’s steady morning routine.

The nephew’s training is going well as expected. He has showered me with many questions, sometimes very hyper-specific questions about certain scenarios. I didn’t expect that! I thought he’d be the kind of person to be all eh who cares let’s just go and do the thing. He really wants to understand what he’s doing, and he also learns very quickly. Sometimes frighteningly so. I can’t really keep up with him thanks to my low stamina and all… Does he really need my help? I feel like I’m just there to keep him company most of the time.

Joey watched Teremy move on to another set of drills. ‘But he works hard every day for what he does. It’s hard to resent him for that.’

Still, traveling with him has been a lot of fun. Aside from his training routine which even that has its own variables, every day has been an adventure. I never know what to expect.

The pan of fish and vegetables began to sizzle, both from the heat and to symbolize Joey’s drop of mood.

Except food.

I made the mistake of letting the nephew make his own food because he claims to be a picky eater. I should be grateful that he’s cooking for the both of us… and I have been helping to gather ingredients every day. But every day has been nothing more than fish, rice, steamed vegetables. Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Joey’s voice muttered with his scrawl, both his voice and his quill growing louder with each reiteration.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables.

Fish, rice, steamed vegetables....

* * *

“MOU!!”

Teremy looked up from his food, his eyes slightly widened. “What…?”

The miqo’te and the lalafell now enjoyed a hearty breakfast. Drills done, breakfast made, now time to eat. Teremy looked at Joey with honest shock. Up until now the lalafell had never complained once about the food. Where did this all come from?

“Every day has been the same thing!” said Joey. “Fish, rice, vegetables--”

Teremy blinked. “Today’s grilled bream. Yesterday we had baked megapiranha and the day before that--”

“I mean, something new. Something exciting! Every day is the same fish, rice, steamed vegetables. As a matter of fact, that’s all we’ve had since we started travelling together.”

Exhaling, Teremy reached into his bag. “So spoiled. Here. Sodium.” From his bag, he procured some rock salt, of which he somehow had found time to grind at some point in life, and sprinkled a pinch over Joey’s vegetables.

Joey stirred up the salt in the vegetables and took a bite. “Mm! That’s good. Thank you!” He paused. “WAIT A MINUTE! That’s not the point! THE POINT IS--”

Teremy chuckled. Joey glowered. That miqo’te jerk thought he was so funny.

“--all this lack of variety is hurting my delicate culinarian sensibilities. Here, let me make lunch today. I’ll make something nice that both of us can enjoy. I used to make meals back at Fortunes & Fancies. This is no big deal to me.”

“Er, sure. Go for it.” Teremy scratched the back of his head. 

With his bowl of food on his lap, Joey threw his arms up in the air and beamed a broad smile like only a lalafell could. “Yeah! Thank you!” Quickly eating the rest of his food, he put aside the dishes and pulled out a handmade book and quill. Excitedly, like a small child, his red eyes sparkled. “So tell me what kinds of foods do you like? Besides the fish and the rice and the vegetables. What kind of foods don’t you like? Any allergies? Any preferences?”

Teremy’s eyes remained widened, as though unaccustomed to people asking him about himself. “I, ah, I’m… not a big fan of super greasy foods. My brother likes that more than me. But I’m not opposed to trying anything at least once.”

“Any kind of meat?”

“Any.”

As Joey wrote down his notes, he couldn’t help but notice Teremy looking down, the miqo’te’s face slightly forlorn. “All this time, I had no idea all this fish caused you such trauma. Want a hug?”

“Haw haw haw. Very funny.” Joey exhaled. “It’s not that, I… I’m just venting about something stupid. I like the fish. And besides, why fish anyway? Because it’s healthy?”

“That and…” Teremy looked down at his now empty dish. Closing his eyes, he smiled softly. “Because I’m reminded of home.”

“Home?” Joey repeated, tilting his head.

“Kugane,” said Teremy. “I know, not a lot of miqo’te there. Born in the lands but not of blood. All that spiel and fun shit.”

“Oh, no… I’m just happy to hear you talk about yourself.” Joey waved his hands.

Once again, Teremy looked back at Joey with wide eyes. ‘He’s really not used to people asking about him?’ Joey wondered. After a few moments, as though collecting his thoughts, Teremy spoke again.

“My… parents... ran a combination fish mart and restaurant. Fish for the people who like to make food, restaurant for the lazy. Made a modest living and all. Of course, Useless Tia--that’s what Jer and I called our ‘father’--left it up to my brother and I to actually get the fish. Our labor, his fortune. That’s how things worked within the family.” He rolled his eyes. “Even then… I can’t speak for how Jer felt, but for me, spending time with my brother and my aunt were the happiest times I had in childhood. Going fishing, beating up bandits… heh, one time, Useless Tia even pitted us against each other. Whoever caught the biggest fish ate dinner. Hah, joke’s on him. We both caught a fish and said we both did. Then Jer and I had a nice shrimp dinner at our aunt’s.”

Teremy paused.

“... sorry. Getting caught up in nostalgia like that. I’m just a sentimental fool.”

Joey shook his head. “No, not at all. Your memories and past are important to you. They give you a sense of belonging, don’t they?”

Teremy looked to the side. “... guess they do. Never thought about it that way.”

Campfire doused, dishes washed and put away in storage, Teremy stood and stretched.

“More training already? You just ate,” said Joey. He figured that Teremy had finished talking and wanted to quickly cover up his moment of vulnerability.

“After a break.” Teremy winked as he raised an arm over his head. “How about you?”

“I, ah, I’m going to plan lunch. You’ll be okay when I’ve left to get ingredients?”

Teremy beat his chest with the thumb side of his closed fist. “Surprisingly, I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Joey made a face. “All right. We’ll reconvene here at Brick around lunch time.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Despite still being connected by linkpearl in case something happened, all Joey really heard on his end were various pants and grunts from Teremy’s usual after breakfast training. That gave Joey some time to come up with a menu. While perched on his flying chair, Joey scoured through his list of books and master books as to what he could possibly come up with.

‘He likes healthy food. He doesn’t like anything greasy, so fried is out. Baked seems okay.’ Joey thought. ‘His idea of a treat is sodium, which means he must secretly like salty foods. Makes sense with how much he sweats all day. Hmm. What’s local around this area. Grilled rail? I’d have to go to Ahm Araeng for that. Or how about…’

Joey’s mind wandered to Teremy’s conversation about the miqo’te’s childhood in his native Kugane. Joey had spent a spell or two there, if just to learn about the local foods. Joey thought of Teremy’s soft expression, the gentle way he spoke of his home and his childhood...

‘He misses his home, doesn’t he? Maybe some local foods from Kugane. Let’s see what I have onhand. It’s not like I can get back to the Source anytime soon…’

* * *

As promised, Teremy and Joey reconvened at the campsite. The miqo’te looked doused in water--most likely to quickly wash off all his sweat. When Teremy arrived, he saw Joey already at the campsite, beaming from ear to ear. Laid in front of him were various dishes Joey had created, all steaming as though Joey had just finished cooking.

“Ta-da!” Joey opened his arms wide. “I made a compromise kind of meal. Here’s the rice, the steamed vegetables… and on this side we have grilled rail steak made with local ingredients, and--”

“--Miso dengaku.” Teremy finished the sentence.

The miqo’te took his time to inhale the sweet scent of food. He had to admit, the smell alone was enough to send his stomach growling. Miso glazed tofu and eggplant. Just like home.

“I had to improvise with whatever I had on hand.” Joey explained. “I had some tofu, miso paste and cooking sake onhand, but the rest of it I had to improvise. I didn’t have any daikon radishes on me. Sorry. Still, I tried my best to recreate the recipe.”

Teremy sat down and scooped up some rice and vegetables into a bowl. A sudden flood of emotions tided him over and washed away anything he wanted to say. He instantly reached for the tofu. As he did so, Joey held up a plate of the grilled rail with both hands.

“Here! Try some of this. Hope you like it!”

Joey’s wide smile turned into a smaller, nervous one as Teremy ate the piece of tofu. Then gently cut a piece of rail for himself--Joey noting how properly Teremy held the steak knife and fork in his hands--and Joey pressed his fingers together.

“How is it?” Joey asked slowly.

Teremy chewed thoughtfully and slowly. He stared not at anything in particular in the distance, as though he was looking at a place far back into the First. Once he swallowed, he closed his eyes. “You could spoil me on this.” He smiled.

Joey’s face light up. He smiled brightly. “I’m glad!”

Now with Teremy’s taste buds giving the thumbs up, Joey dished out his own food. The next few moments, the two sat in amicable silence with nothing but the taste of delicious food filling their stomachs. Joey had to admit that he liked watching Teremy eat up, as though doing so was validation in its own way.

Once Teremy finished eating, he put his dishes on his lap. “All right, Joey, you win. From now on, you make food. Then we can call it even.”

“Okay! … wait, even…” Joey looked up and muttered to himself as he counted on his stubby lalafell fingers. “Wait a minute, how is this fair? I’m here helping you do that training stuff and traveling and all I got is following you around-”

“Fair is fair.” Teremy chuckled.

“Hey! Jerk! Meanie!”

“C’mon, you can insult better than that, lightweight.”

Joey didn’t even see Teremy’s arm move, but the next thing the lalafell knew, he saw Teremy’s finger on his own nose. “ACK!! MM!” Joey brushed off Teremy’s hand and his nose.

But Joey couldn’t stay mad at Teremy for too long. After all, how could he stay mad when he heard Teremy laughing so happily?