#not farming for sympathy just farming for answers on what I can do better I guess

[geminip-art]

Im kinda struggling to keep up with art and merch stuff….I haven’t put the stickers up on my Etsy because they didn’t sell on my ko-fi page and now the acrylic stuff isn’t selling on Etsy. I’ve got two enamel pins I designed ordered and a VERY limited acrylic acrylic standee but if nothing sells…I either won’t be able to afford making more stuff or I won’t have the heart to because it feels like people aren’t liking the merch ideas I’ve come up with…

idk is the art bad or are the ideas bad or is the price too high…? Compared to other pages I thought my price was too low? Some are selling small things at $30+ and still selling out…so not to compare myself to others but when I’m trying to make the money back I have to figure out what I’m doing wrong you know?

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Can you please write Yandere Dimitri from fire Emblem forcing Edelgard’s sister to marry him after he won the war.

Ok I'm having a little too much fun with this idea. Would have finished this sooner but I got sick then as soon as I recovered I got back pains and was pretty much bed bound for a few days. Feeling so much better now though.

Chapter one is just mainly setting the plot.

Eagle under the lion's paw Pt 1

(Yandere Dimitri Blaiddyd X female reader)

The last thing you could remember was being taken underneath the castle you and your siblings called home. you were told that it wasn't safe outside so you had all been brought to the basement. You held your sister Edelgard's hand tightly as only a small candle dimly lit the room and the muttering amongst your siblings grew.

You woke up in the middle of a farm, luckily the owners were nice enough to offer you a place to stay when they found you. You felt strange as you walked back with them, like your body was not your own. They took you in and allowed you to bathe. You looked at yourself in the mirror and were shocked. You were older, a young adult at this point. You nearly fainted from the shock but were able to catch yourself on a bench before you fell. Even as you scrubbed all the mud off of you you cringed, it felt so wrong to be in this body. How could this have happened? You desperately raked your mind for a clue but you couldn't remember anything after being left in that room.

After you had bathed the farmers had offered you dinner and asked you questions.

"What is your name dear?" The lady asked.

"It's (Y/n) von Hresvelg" you replied. The couple's eyes widened before they began to whisper. You couldn't quite make out what they said to one another.

"You are a member of the Adrestian empire's royal family? I thought the only child of the emperor was Edelgard" she said in what you assumed was a sceptical tone. Edelgard was the only child? No, that wasn't true. What about all of your other brothers and sisters? before you even had the chance to figure out how to respond there was a knock on the door. The man got up and answered the door.

"My apologies for interrupting but I heard my Niece was spotted around here. Do you perhaps have an idea as to where she might be?" a familiar voice asked. It was your uncle's.

You stood up and made your way to the door and he was indeed there.

"There you are" he said, his voice unusually cold. The man moved out of the way so that you could join him. Your uncle did not look a day older than when you had last seen him.

"Thank you for caring for her" he thanked the couple, however his voice held very little gratitude.

"Now we should be leaving" he said as he held your wrist. It struck you as strange, he held your wrist with authority. Very unlike him.

"Thank you for the hospitality" you thanked them before you left. He took you to a carriage and you entered.

"What's happened?" You ask him as soon as he enters.

"What do you mean (Y/n)?" He asked you. Almost cluelessly.

"I can't remember anything after I was seven, I have no clue what's going on" you explained.

"Strange… I was told your carriage was attacked by bandits as you were on your way to the officers academy, perhaps you sustained a head injury that left you with memory loss during the attack" he explained.

"What about my siblings? The couple told me that Edelgard was the only child of the empire" you asked.

"There was a riot in the empire many years back, you and Edelgard were the only survivors out of your siblings after that attack" he explained. It broke your heart when you heard his explanation. Tears trickled down your face. You hadn't been as close to your other siblings as you had with Edelgard but still it hurt to hear they were gone. You expected your uncle to at least offer you some sympathy like he usually did but he just sat there.

"We'll be at the officers academy later tonight. Tomorrow you'll be attending your first class, I'm sure that Edelgard will be overjoyed to know you're safe"

When you had arrived you were quickly guided to your dorm as your uncle explained the situation to the professor. While you walked to your room you noticed a white haired woman staring at you. She seemed familiar, almost friendly if it weren't for her scrutinising gaze. You tried to pay her no mind as you continued your way to the room.

You didn't even unpack, you just laid in bed and thought about what your uncle said. You were sceptical, he was a completely different person, he used to be so caring. You remember when he had taken you and Edelgard to Fargus. You had been very ill at the time and he'd spent all the time he could to comfort you but now after a supposed attack he didn't even ask you if you were alright.

You stayed up for hours tossing around in bed. Unable to sleep with your head filled the brim with questions.

🦅🦅🦅

That morning you had gotten ready as quickly as possible and made your way to class. Most of the class had already arrived and their gaze was on you.

"Hey it's the new girl!" a blue haired boy shouted and the green haired boy next to him turned his head to look at you while still resting his head on his hand.

"Can you lower your volume Casper, the whole school probably heard you" he responded lethargically to the boy beside him.

You turned to the left and saw that white haired woman from last night at the bookshelf. She noticed you and that stony gaze returned.

"So what's your name?" A feminine voice asked. You turned to see a brunette lady. You jumped a little at how close she was to you.

"Aww I'm sorry, I didn't want to scare you" she apologised as she took a step back.

"No I'm sorry, I should have noticed you sooner" you apologised.

"So what's your name?" She repeated.

"(Y/n) von Hresvelg" you told her and she gasped.

"Edie, you never told us you had a sister!" She exclaimed as she addressed the white haired lady. She looked at you like you were a ghost, and you assumed you held a similar expression to her.

"Edel" you muttered as you stared back at her. You should have realised sooner it was her but that hair, why was her hair white? Everything was getting stranger by the second.

"You look at eachother like this is a reunion after being away from each other for so long"

"It is" Edelgard spoke in a voice that was stern and held no love. It made you want to cry. She was the older sister who had always stood up for you and made sure you were safe. She would help you when you fell and let you sleep in her bed whenever you had nightmares. She was your protective older sister. What happened to make her reaction to you filled with such disdain? You didn't want to bring it up now for who knows what this issue was an what drama it would stir.

Soon a lady, elegant yet somewhat unkempt, entered the class.

"I see you're getting to know our new student, (Y/n)" she commented as she made her way to the podium.

"Please be accommodating to her, I've been informed she has some memory issues following an injury she sustained" she notified the class as the few who were standing quickly got into their seats.

You followed suit and sat down to before the class started.

You eagerly took notes but you couldn't help but notice the occasional glances both Edelgard and an ebony haired man shot at you. Why were they continuously looking at you like you were going to do something?

When class ended you decided to try and talk to Edelgard. You followed her as she left but was quickly stopped by the man who had been staring at you earlier.

"What do you intend to do?" he asked you with venom dripping off of his words.

"I want to talk to Edelgard" you explained, you attempted to pass him but he grabbed you by the wrist.

"I cannot allow that," he replied.

"So I'm not allowed to talk to my sister? I don't understand why I can't" you said as you pulled your hand out of his grip.

"Tell me, why can't I?" you continued.

"My job is to protect her highness at all cost" he replied, not really giving you a proper answer. It hurt like a knife to be told you weren't even allowed to talk to your own sister who you loved and adored and the way he looked at you with those eyes made you feel like you were a horrible person. What did you do to deserve such treatment? To be identified as a threat to your own sister.

You couldn't take it anymore. You turned away.

"I understand the concern for my sister…" you just sniffled, holding in your tears before walking the other way. You didn't know where you were going, you just walked you ended up in what you assumed was the training ground. Your eyes fell onto a blonde haired man wielding a lance with ease. You stood and watched him. His movements had you in a trance.

'If only I could wield a lance like that' you thought to yourself. Perhaps that's what you'd do. Professor Manuela had informed you that the students of the academy participated in monthly missions where students would fight alongside the knights of Seiros. So it was best if you learnt how to wield a weapon soon.

You took mental notes on how he manoeuvred. Perhaps tomorrow you'd come back and train.

🦅🦅🦅

The next day was much the same as before. You had questions thrown your way about being a Hresvelg. Still Edelgard and the ebony man who's name was Hubert watched you closely. The brunette yesterday who'd introduced herself as Dorathea sat next to you and chatted with you during breaks. She was a former opera singer from the mittlefrank opera company. She reminded you of your oldest sister Karoline, she had been fair and loved to sing.

"I don't understand why Edelgard is avoiding me" you sighed. You'd already explained your memory dilemma to her and she'd been very supportive. Offering you any help you'd need.

"Edie's probably just in shock. I'm sure you two will be comfortable with each other again, maybe just do your own thing. You're both still in each other's presence, she'll see you living your life and she'll have to start talking to you again" she explained.

"It's much the same with adoring men" she commented.

Maybe she was right, you should try and be independent. Just give Edelgard some time.

"That sounds like a good idea" you replied.

"So do you want to have some afternoon tea after class?" She asked.

"I was actually planning on going to the training ground for a bit, since I'll have to be ready for whatever this month's mission is but I'd be happy to have dinner with you at the dining hall" you replied.

"Understandable, dinner sounds great thought" replied with a smile.

🦅🦅🦅

When class ended you grabbed your things and put them back in your room before making your way to the training ground. You made your way to a stand that held all the training lances and grabbed one, to your surprise they were a bit heavier than you thought. You stood in one spot and attempted to swing it around, you struggled a fair bit, nearly falling in the process. You wondered how that man yesterday made it look so easy.

You got lost in your thoughts, trying to figure out how to use the lance. Not noticing that the blonde haired man approached you.

"Try putting your right foot back a little more" he suggested, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, thank you" you thanked as you repositioned yourself like he suggested.

"Is this your first time wielding a lance? I'd be more than willing to teach you" he offered.

"Thank you…" you replied.

"Dimitri" he said.

"Yes, thank you Dimitri" you said with a nod.

"It is no problem, I assumed you'd be here trying out a lance after yesterday" he said.

"You saw me?" You muttered. Rather flustered.

"There's nothing wrong with watching me spar, I'm flattered to have inspired you to try it out" he reassured you.

"Bend your knees and try to swing now" he said as he took a few steps back.

You followed his instruction before swinging the lance. His advice helped, you didn't feel like you were going to lose your balance, yet something still felt off.

"Did that help?" He asked.

"It did but something still feels off" you replied. His blue eyes inspected you as he walked back to you.

"Try moving this hand closer to the head" he told you as he tapped on your dominant hand and moved his finger to the new spot.

Again you followed his instruction and he gave you room to swing again. This time it felt much easier.

"That was an excellent swing, with some more practice I'm sure you'll wield a lance with no issue" he praised you.

"Thank you Dimitri" you thanked him.

"Could you teach me some more? Only if you're willing to of course" you asked him.

"Of course, I believe training together would benefit us both…" he replied. He paused for a second before speaking again.

"Forgive my rudeness, It slipped my mind to even ask your name" he apologised.

"It's fine, my name is (y/n)" you replied as you held out your hand to shake his. You didn't want to share your last name as it had only caused you drama since attending.

"You are Edelgard's sister?" He asked as he took your hand and shook it.

"Ah you already know" a sliver of disappointment escaped your mouth.

"Word travels fast around the monastery," he replied.

"It is a near impossible feat to keep a secret here" continued.

[purplesurveys]

1874

bonesofivory All questions from the Loaded Questions game

What is not worth all the money in the world? Troll farms, I guess? They're so toxic and annoying. And unfortunately a big part of the circles I'm part of...it's in local politics, it's in K-pop... they're just very exhausting to see.

What would make for a ridiculous new national holiday? I'd answer this more seriously and go for a holiday that's in recognition of politicians I hate. I would rather go to work.

What would cause you to give a child a "time out"? If they mess with strangers. I'm in Vietnam right now and the amount of kids who have randomly decided to mess with us while we quietly walked around... I'm not gonna name-drop any nationality lmao but it was so stressful and very disorienting.

What is something you would want to do every day? Travel, like what I've been doing the past week.

What word or phrase do you overuse? I'm guilty of replying with "does it?" "do they?" "is it?" "are they?" etc etc when someone tells a fact or a simple statement haha. It's a habit I picked up from my ex.

If you were in jail, whom would you want for your cellmate? Hans because I know he can humor his way to getting us out asap.

If you owned a nightclub, what would you call it? I'm not nearly creative enough to come up with a good idea to this.

What image should be next to the word "extraordinary" in a dictionary? BTS.

On what TV show would you make a perfect guest star? No clue.

How do you know when you're having a bad day? I'd feel a bit suicidal. Like I would think I'm much better off disappearing and not burdening people anymore.

Where is a terrible place to fall asleep? Somewhere hot and humid with insects around. Idk what exact 'place' but those are definitely conditions I'd be uncomfortable with.

What would constitute a bad neighbor? If they have loud and whiny kids that they let be.

How do you think you'll celebrate your 100th birthday? I'm not hoping to live that long, but if I do, I just hope I'm celebrating it in wealth and comfort lol.

Which television family is most like your own family? Whichever the most dysfunctional family is. Maybe Fresh off the Boat? Hahahaha.

What would make you turn off the TV immediately? Realistically – if there's a crisis/emergency at work. Haha. I go on lockdown and go on full boss mode until everything is resolved.

What would significantly change the mood right now? I'd so go back out right now and bask in my final night in Vietnam if everything just didn't close by 10 PM.

What is the most impressive thing you can make? Most stuff I'm proud of is things I've written.

How are you planning on changing your life for the better? Just having more empathy and sympathy, something I'm actively working towards since for the most part I've had a very nonchalant personality and mostly goal-driven. I've been lacking when it comes to thinking of others, but now that I'm leading an entire team at work I've had more opportunities to practice being more empathetic. That life is not about deadlines and like, just because I'm competitive or a people pleaser doesn't mean I should pass off that internal pressure to others.

What is the most creative thing you have done recently? Not sure about that.

When is having very little of something actually a good thing? Being on vacation/traveling. Personally, it becomes a lot more fun when you don't really have a set itinerary that you have to follow and just go with the flow. That's what we've done in our time in Vietnam so far and it's been more of a blast this way.

What do you wish took a shorter amount of time to accomplish? Powerpoints/decks. I get so stressed when I'm making them because you want to make sure they're both substantial in info AND creative.

If your birthday became a national holiday, how would you celebrate it? A massive K-pop party, hehe. And a bunch of street food stalls lined up in one long street.

What is something five out of five doctors can agree on? Smoking kills.

What would be a strange gift to give at a baby shower? A toolbox, maybe...? HAHA

What is a terrible thing to stuff a turkey with on Thanksgiving? I'm not so sure tbh. I've never had turkey and don't celebrate Thanksgiving. Chocolate maybe?? What's the verdict on chocolate in turkey, guys? Hahaha

What inexpensive thing would you love to receive as a present? Ointment. My crampy Asian ass will always appreciate ointment.

If Columbus discovered today's America, what might cause him to go back on his ship and sail away? ?

What is a terrible excuse for forgetting a loved one's birthday? Being too busy at work. Work is never that important for taking five seconds out of your day to greet someone.

If you had to give the same gift to everyone on your holiday list, what would you give? Something practical, like a small unisex bag or a phone holder.

What celebrity doesn't need a Halloween mask to look scary? That's pretty mean.

Upon blowing out the candles on your next birthday cake, what will you wish for? More money.

What present would you immediately re-gift? Not really into regifting.

If you could put a stop to one holiday tradition, what would it be? Like, not actually recognizing the purpose of holidays. In the Philippines, we have so many national holidays remembering national heroes, war events, etc (almost one a month!) but we just treat them as merely a day off work. I wish more effort can be placed in having initiatives that let us celebrate and honor the people/events we've set holidays for.

What do you have an abundance of and could share with others? Empty notebooks.

What information should not be communicated through text? Idk, I guess anything that involves thousands to millions of money lol.

What would you most like to find when going through your bag of Halloween treats? Anything peanut butter. :D

What have you done that would put you on Santa's naughty list? Always going over my goddamn budget for ANYTHING I set budgets for.

If you could interview the devil, what would be your first question? "What have I done that you'd most approve of?" maybe? As an eternal pleaser lmfao. Also so I can gauge the meanest I've gotten.

What kind of pet could someone have that would make you think that person is crazy? Anything that's illegal to own.

What road sign do you wish existed? "No e-bikes beyond this point."

[onlylivinboy]

fuascailt​: 

The staring at the dark pan shifted to watching Gabe try to string up a sentence, that was left for Josh to try and puzzle it together. And it felt heavily, what they were saying, and a helplessness washed over him.

Wasn’t this what he was supposed to protect Gabe from? Not heartbreak, not the experience of losing someone you thought you could spend a lifetime with but.. This, hopelessness. The void he was trying hard to walk away from.

He’d left silent, mind clawing at anything to say, scraping away the soot of crippling thoughts that stained everything he touched.

Is this what Gabe was feels too?

“You’re not bad.” he managed to say. “You’re not bad, Gabe. You didn’t do it on purpose. You never set out to hurt him on purpose.”

All they ever wanted was to help people.

He shook his head, an almost apologetic look about him. “I wish I could tell you..” how to fix it? How to be less dark, less hollow, better. “I’ve been trying to drown that part of me since I can remember.

What I can do is, tell you what doesn’t work.”

He paused.

“When I first started out at SHIELD, uh.. I went on this assignment, with a… Far more experienced agent.” he swallowed, turned the stove off.

“Her name was Anne. She.. died, of an overdose. And, I blamed myself for it. A lot, like..” he exhaled heavily. “I guess I still do. And everyone else did too, but.. Some part of me, the one not screaming that it should’ve been me, kept reminding me that, in everything we do there is a choice.

Her choice to use. Her choice to not ask for help. Her choice to not wait—” we’ll do it together, okay?

“We can’t always know what people choose. Can’t always sway them from choosing something else. And you have to let them make their own choice.

Rue, chose to be with you. He made that choice. Just like you made the choice to help him. Twice. You think you’re bad, but you don’t take into consideration the choices you make that are good. And you’ve made so many good ones.”

He stopped talking and wondered if anything of what’s he was saying made any sense. Maybe sharing that story had been a bad idea.

The silence weighs heavily and at first has Gabriel thinking that no answer is going to come. Because there probably isn’t one to something like this, there’s no get-out-of-jail-free card from having realized that you’re capable of, have done, far worse than you’ve ever feared or imagined. 

That you found the very best thing in the universe, and destroyed it. 

There’s no belief, no visible relief or acceptance on his face at Josh’s repeated insistence that he’s not bad. The belief is too sincerely held to be wiped away with any assurances. 

He lowers his gaze, shifting a little uneasily. 

What’s completely unexpected, though, is this part of him that Josh is starting to share. The same feeling, maybe- that the parent had been trying to drown forever. 

Gabe listens in silence, gaze lifting up to the other not to cast aside what was being shared, something he’d.. never heard Josh speak about before.

Her name was Anne. 

A name got so much heavier when you put ‘was’ ahead of it. 

He could hear clear enough in Josh’s words, the difficulty he perceived that he was having talking about this, why he hadn’t heard it before. Anne chose to use, to not ask for help.. and now she was gone. 

Was it similar? 

Gabriel had pleaded with Rúne to go back to the farm. To go home, to keep his distance so that he wouldn’t hurt him. He had been met with plain refusal, every time. 

Good choices.. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure exactly, what lessons he was meant to take from this. But maybe those were less important than the feeling of being understood, of maybe carrying a similar kind of ache. 

There probably wasn’t a lesson that could fix this, but the parent had made him feel a little less alone. 

In lieu of any good thing to say, his hand reached Josh’s, a connection having been made. “I’m sorry that happened.” It’s not said with sympathy as much as a weight of understanding. 

He went to squeeze his hand, very tightly. 

Definitely complicated.

Gabriel couldn’t really pretend to understand what all of that was about, but he could venture a few guesses probably. Yeah. Sometimes no terms was way better than any other terms.

“Our family’s nice.” Weren’t they? They did their best. He frowned, went to pour himself a glass of water.

“I dunno. Bet they have problems, just don’t know well enough to.. know, y’know?” No one could be that perfect.

Pancakes? “Not that hungry, you go ahead though.” Maybe he’d steal a bite or two of Josh’s if he really felt like it. He pushed a mug in Josh’s direction so he could fill a coffee cup for him too while he was at it.

[kyberphilosopher]

Smile

Word Count: 3467 Requested: yes. Based off ‘505′ Warnings: strong hints to sexual disposition. Spoilers if you squint.

“I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck... I did last time I checked.” -Arctic Monkeys, ‘505′.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

With hoarse breath and unwavering eyes, you look up to the stars as you speak. “So, you’re really going to do it then?”

“I have to,” you hear him say. His voice has gotten far more mature and calm since the first time you’d heard him speak. Still angry and determined, but in an intelligent, adult way. Eren is a more capable person now. The only thing left to do is wait and see if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing. 

“What do you think are the chances of winning?” you question. A shooting star whizzes across the sky at that very moment, and it’s gone before you can think of a wish. 

You turn around to face him, but his eyes are already on you. Once upon a time, Eren’s eyes were emerald and teal and deep. Now they’re paler. They are cold and steady as a byproduct of who he’s become. It’s hard not to wonder what he’s thinking about when he looks at you like this, especially since he’s become harder to read over the years.

At first, Eren was one of the most insufferable people you’d ever met. He acted out so often, it was hard to see him as another person of intelligent life. You mostly just minded your business through your cadet years, usually hanging around Reiner, who was also difficult to see as intelligent life. Sometimes you and Eren would argue, but it was never passionate. You just had different world views. 

Things got better when you found out what Eren really was. Since you hadn’t made top ten, you could only choose between the Garrison Regiment, or the Scout Regiment. And with Eren’s newly discovered power showing the promise of hope, you decided on the Scouts. He liked that. 

After that, it was hard not to mature at the same time as he. Eren often blamed himself for the death and carnage that surrounded the regiment. You were solely responsible for the passing of your best friend. And after everything that happened with the government, almost dying at Shiganshina- you knew you couldn’t stand this much longer. With your relationship with Eren still budding in its early and steamy stages, he was the only one you told of your desertion. You abandoned the corps, finding a small, abandoned farm within wall Maria to hide out in. 

Eren was too tired and sick of everything to think you were being cowardly. He wanted to leave too. Maybe come with you. But Eren had plans in the works that he couldn’t leave alone. He visited you less and less. Luckily you never made a fuss. 

And now Eren wants to end the world, to save the world. How does he expect you to react to this?

“I just thought I should see you,” Eren replies. You know he’s deflecting your question. You’re not stupid. 

You nod slowly, blinking as you think. “Am I going to die?”

Your companion crosses his arms calmly. “Yes,” he tells you. 

There it is. 

“You know I can’t support you in this, right?” you tell Eren, equally as calm. 

He only replies after a moment, also in deep thought. “I know.”

You look back up to the sky, sighing out through your nose. “Why did you come, Eren? Did you want me to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing? Or was it because you need to let out some anger? I wonder.”

“I did want to see you.”

“Do you still?”

Silence. 

“Yes.”

“And I suppose there’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“No.”

The stars are glittering with pastel hues, like a rainbow, or kaleidoscope. Each one is a different size, bordering on different shapes, all fusing and melting together like your idea of heaven. You can barely even see the midnight color of the sky through all them. It is beautiful, but it’s also bitter. Everything is bitter, here. 

“I didn’t make myself any dinner yet,” you say. “Couldn’t think of anything.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

When she was alive, Eren’s mother would make a soup for the family. It was creamy, hot, filled with meat and cheese at the bottom. Eren never liked soup, but he did love that dish. She was always sure to make extra for him, so that he could enjoy it for several days. And although it wasn’t until after she was gone that Eren realized he rarely ever thanked her for it, it was still one of the warmest memories Eren had. 

He fills your wooden bowl with it, being awfully generous. He knows that even though you haven’t eaten much in the last few years, you too had grown fond of the soup. He knows no matter how slowly you force it down, you are enjoying it. It burns the roof of your mouth every time, but you’ve never cared. All that matters is the creamy sauce, and the cow cooked to perfection. 

You stare at the fireplace beside you, flames cackling and licking upward. Eren sets the bowl in front of you, and takes the seat on the other side. You know he sets his long hair behind his shoulders. You’re already prepared. From your pocket, you produce a stretchy brown hair tie on the verge of snapping, handing it to him. 

“Thanks,” he says, even though this routine has happened however many times he’s seen you. 

“You’re welcome.”

The soup is as amazing as usual. You’re willing to bet Eren makes it even better than his mother did, but you dare not say it aloud. It’s creamy, perfectly seasoned. It goes down your throat, still steaming. 

“Does Mikasa know about this?” you question, taking one more delicious bite. 

“No. None of them do,” Eren answers. “Armin will figure it out soon.”

“You want me to kill ‘em?”

Eren shakes his head. To a lot of people, this would be taken as a joke. But this is nowhere near it. Your tone is too casual, too low for it to be humor of any kind. And the way the man across from you reacts- he’s thinking the same thing. 

“No.”

“How are they, then?”

Eren thinks as he takes another bite, the warmth creeping up his chest sweetly. “They’re alright for now. I don’t know for how much longer. I can’t see everything.”

“Can you see who’s next?”

He squints at his bowl as if he were angry, but his eyebrows barely move. “Sasha.” 

Sasha. She was always a good presence to have around. While she seemed like the type of person who would annoy you, it was hard to hate her. And you admired her keen intuition anyway. 

“Will you give her something for me?”

Eren nods. Then you both go back to eating for a few seconds, basking in the orange glow from the flames. 

“How are things here?” he questions after a minute. 

“The same,” you tell him. “I think the cow might die soon.”

Some people might reply with condolences, or sympathy. But your lover does not, and you do not expect him to. “I’ll get you a new one,” he says flatly, almost like a promise. You nod once.

Despite the atmosphere which can only be described as bitter, you’re glad to see Eren again. You’re glad that he’s alive, and as alright as he can be. The bed is always colder without him, heated up only by your lingering fingers that you pretend are his every other night. Whenever he leaves an article of clothing behind, usually on purpose, you hold off on washing it so it can smell like him for you as long as possible. Then there are the hair ties you keep either in your pocket or on your wrist, specifically for him. The razors in your cabinet he often didn’t even bother using. 

Even with the sullen demeanor that had managed to overtake both of you, there was at least one thing you cared about in the world still. Maybe it wasn’t the most conventional kind of caring, or the healthiest coping mechanism. But it was still caring. And all that you cared about was him. 

You knew you weren’t Eren’s first priority. You were probably second, or third. It didn’t bother you. Eren’s head was one of the first things lost when the truth was presented to him. It came back coldly and sternly, in contrast to how previously hot and impatient it had been. But by then your head had also grown colder and sterner. In simpler terms, Eren did care for you. He did love you. But he would consider letting you die if it meant achieving what he set out to do, and you knew this. 

Across the table, Eren lifts his head to look up at you as he chews slowly. The burning meal slides down his throat easily, albeit painfully. It doesn’t even register with him, his piercing eyes slowly gaining a glint from the fire light. 

You meet his eyes after a few seconds, feeling them on you. You don’t say a word, don’t even give a questioning look. You just hold him patiently, which is something the two of you find yourself doing often. 

“You can’t stop it,” Eren speaks, looking you dead in the eyes with a steady gaze. There is love behind his eyes, far behind the anger, but you can tell from the tone of voice he is trying to tell you something as if it were an order. Your lips part slightly from the intensity radiating from your lover, who doesn’t move a muscle. “You’ll be free soon.” 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Dinner ends. Eren helps clean up the dishes for you and goes to get water from your well so you can clean easier. You already know from the way his thumb brushed against your own when you took the bowls that you’ll likely be bent over the sink in a few minutes, which you don’t mind, but you wonder if he’ll be willing to be softer than usual as an apology for what he’d said earlier. 

He’d meant to scare you. You’re intelligent enough to figure that out. Even though you don’t scare easy, and you didn’t even give an extreme reaction, the look in Eren’s eyes had made your heart drop to your stomach. Sometimes you forget that Eren sees everything. Then he says something like that to remind you in the most memorable way. 

The wooden door opens and closes behind you. Boots scuff the ground for a few seconds, drawing closer and closer as something in you sparks with anticipation, as it always does. A pail of water hits the surface beside you, partially sloshing over the sides, shining silver in the moonlight from the tall window in front of you. Finally, ultra hot hands slide around your waist and push gently but tightly against where your ribs diverge. 

A jaw leans down on your right shoulder, chin poking against your collarbone. Locks of hair brush against your own, just as the hand on the left runs across your side to finally put a small band in your pocket. 

“I did miss you,” Eren’s low voice seemingly growls, his chest rumbling softly against your back. 

“I was thinking about you,” you admit with monotone, knowing your lover can read through it like as easily as a knife slices through skin. 

“I hope I didn’t worry you,” he says, though you can also read through his own tone. He probably didn’t care about worrying you. He definitely doesn’t still. 

“You didn’t.”

You place a both bowls in the sink, running your fingers over the dirty spoons. Eren’s orbs follow your movement. You can feel his chin change positions ever so slightly in the coming seconds. 

“Can you pass me the rag?” you ask, eyes focused on a piece of food on the spoon that doesn’t even exist. 

In response, Eren doesn’t pass you anything. Only his right hand gives you any kind of acknowledgement, passing from on your ribs to down lower. His fingertips skin over the erogenous zone under the waistband of your undergarments. 

“I worried about you,” Eren murmurs boldly. The hot fingertips pass under the cloth finally, pricks of stubble on his jaw scratching your neck and shoulder as he shifts. “I wanted you to be okay.” His left hand raises to grasp the breast above it. Slowly at first, then firmly, like a warning. Everything is a warning with him. 

Your head lulls back uncontrollably. The back of your hair matts up as it rolls against his own shoulder. 

“I said you worried me,” your partner grumbles. “Did you hear me?”

“No,” you lie lowly, refusing to let your voice shake despite the shiver in your throat. 

“Mm,” Eren hums in condescending understanding. A force presses against your core, which has turned burning hot and ice cold at the same time. The force pulls away, a string of something smooth and slimy following it that makes a sound draw from your lips. It’s high pitched, weak, and unstoppable. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so associated with Eren. 

His hand gives your breast a firm squeeze, soreness blossoming from the center. Your back arches quickly and returns lax against him, though now something pokes against your bottom that makes your eyes pop open with a new alertness. Eren’s hand gives you no time again. From your chest, it flies to your throat, holding it back with soft strictness as the other finally dips into the hot pool between your hips. 

“I worried about you.”

A strangled groan releases from between your lips again, this time fully carried up through the air. To Eren, it must sound like nothing more than music, or background noise. 

Thick cylinders pump inside you to the knuckle. They feel better than your own. They always have. 

It feels good. Full. Tight and fast and like the inside of you is quivering under the weight of something that you can’t see or hear. Eren is like a blanket supporting you from falling over, keeping you upright with his grip and his fingers buried inside of you. Prodding every angle, every spot. Not necessarily romantically, but still lovingly. He has always had this goal during intimacy. Nothing matters but communicating to you just how close he wants to be. 

“Eren,” you choke, a dribble of spit sliding from the corner of your lips. 

“Again,” he hisses in response. His fingers hit a tight spot, making every muscle in your body clench at the same time. 

You don’t say another word, your mouth hanging partially open as you focus on everything around you. And it’s all Eren Jaeger. His smell, his growls, his voice, his breathing, his chest, his muscles, his hair, his anger, his bitterness, his intelligence, his determination. It’s overwhelming. It reminds you of getting swept in one of those waves at the ocean he described to you. He’s yours. No- more likely, you’re his. End of story. 

“I said again.”

“Eren,” you moan.  

His head nuzzles into your neck comfortingly, his fingers pushing faster and harder. You can feel how warm you are, never mind how slick. And the way your own body holds around his digits every time he pulls away is enough to make you all the more warm and slick. 

But then...

What is he doing?

He had said “you’ll be free soon”. And yet, here he is, gripping you tightly as he forces you into the corner of submitting. And yes, it is hot. It arouses you as it always has. But something about it makes your stomach turn into a knot of unpleasantness, in contrast to the other one of liquid pleasure. 

“Eren,” you strain, squirming against him. 

Eren speeds up again. A grunt falls from his own mouth from his own power, and you know he’s getting off almost as much as you are. It doesn’t stop feeling good. Feeling euphoric. 

It’s getting rougher. Rougher and harder and faster, more intense. 

“Eren.”

Another gruff moan from him. 

“Eren! Stop! Stop!”

Eren’s palm softens away at once. It lifts away, his eyes opening and his hand stilling inside of you. He watches you shake as you gaze up to the ceiling, wide eyed. Your thighs sputter, entire body twitching. You didn’t cum. 

His eyes trail over you. You’ve worked up a steady sweat glistening and glowing, shivering and shaking and quaking because of him in the best way. You’re his. His partner, his friend, his ally he knows for a fact he can rely on.

“C-can we... Eren...” 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Drips of water dribbling down Eren’s temple. One of your hands are threaded in his brunette locks, holding them back so you can have an uninterrupted view. The other hand is dabbing cloth against his forehead and hairline, bathing him softly. 

He’d gone a while without bathing again. You could tell. Eren’s eyes are glued to yours, deep teal memorizing all the flecks in your own as if he hadn’t a million times over. 

Eren loves you. Dearly. He’d travel all seven hours and forty five minutes just to tell you that. He doesn’t know what made you stop earlier. He doesn’t ask. But he’s not mad. Overall, Eren understands that it doesn’t matter what you asked to stop for. You give the word, he obeys. Not because he has to, but because he loves you. 

Still, he knows something is wrong. You don’t show it. You’re steady, calm, mature, apathetic as always. But in the pit of Eren’s stomach, something brews. A warm, strange feeling of intuition and omniscience. 

“You look very pretty today,” Eren ventures, wondering only of your response. “Did I tell you that?”

Your eyes squint. “Thank you,” you reply back. 

The cloth continues to rub against his skin, cleaning something that probably doesn’t even exist. Dirt, maybe. Eren’s stopped taking care of his skin in the past few years. 

“You’re welcome.”

Your eyes squint again. This time, they gloss over with sharp wetness like glass. The eyebrows crease like a break, your bottom lip trembling as you suck it between your teeth. 

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. But your lover wasn’t expecting this. 

Eren hates when you cry. He can remember the first time he’d seen it, but not the most recent. You didn’t cry often- you were strong. Crying over something as useless and flimsy as emotions didn’t seem worth it. So what was this for? What were you about to make Eren break down inside over?

Your hand falls limply from his forehead. Shoulders hunch over in defeat, staring down at the floor as your hair covers over your face. And then the sniffles come, choked out coughs like sobs. 

Eren can see the lightest of bruises he’d left on you from earlier, but you’d never had a problem with it before. No, it was something else. But what?

Silent, your teeth grit together as you wince, tears streaming down your face inexplicably. 

“Earlier w-when you,” you gulp, snot beginning to form, “when you- I did worry a-about you. I- I don’t know why I didn’t...”

You stumble forward. Eren stands from your bath tub to catch you as you slump against him tiredly. 

“I hate it when you go.”

Eren switches positions with you, pushing you down to sit on the edge of the tub. He takes the wet rag from your hand and holds your shoulder back so he can have a good look at you. Then the cloth dabs against your own forehead, just as you had done to him. 

“I hate it here,” you sigh, a single tear drop blurring your vision as it falls finally. 

Your lover moves the cloth from your head to your cheeks, smearing the wetness into your skin and away. They moisten and dry, your eyes red and shiny. Eren tilts your head up under your jaw, creasing his brows and using the towel to clean closer to your eyes. 

“If it helps,” he says, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re crying, but I still think you look pretty.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t help even a little, because you love him. 

A soft smile creeps to your lips, your hands dropping in between your thighs. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

No I didn’t reread this lmfao enjoy. Hope I did you justice anon

[bestworstcase]

Additionally to Cinders rebellion vs Oscar’s growing resignation, there is also the contrast between Salem and Ozpin: Salem could treat Cinder better, but Ozpin has no choice in the eventual assimilation of Oscar. (Like, it's explicitly said it can be slowed down by not using magic, but not stopped. And, as far as anyone knows, it's not like Ozpin can leave. Both Salem's and Ozpin's behaviours are also very much mirror how the Gods treated them.

if i were talking about the involuntary soul parasite reincarnation thing i would have said so. ozpin can't remove himself from oscar's head, but he does get to choose how he acts.

initially, their dynamic is characterized by oscar begging to be left alone, for ozpin to stop talking to him and stop telling him what to do, and ozpin blithely ignoring that—for all that his sympathy is genuine, he's nonetheless consistent in using that feeling not to comfort but to dismiss, to argue, to cajole. "i don't want this," oscar says, and ozpin's answer is always "i'm sorry, but you don't get a choice." you have to go to haven. you have to uphold my responsibilities because they're your responsibilities now. you have to sacrifice everything—but don't think of it as sacrifice, think of it as an opportunity for greatness. you didn't want to spend your whole life on a farm anyway, did you?

and you can't get upset with me for reading your thoughts, because they're my thoughts now too.

he lies to oscar as much as he lies to anyone else, and when oscar threatens the secrets he's keeping, ozpin forcibly resists oscar's effort to regain control—if he could have fully suppressed oscar then, he would have, and we know that because he tried to. he doesn't treat oscar like a successor; he treats oscar like an extension of himself.

then he seals himself away, which leaves oscar free to process... all of this. and while there are subtle signs of oscar continuing to assimilate ozma's memories and ozpin's perspective to some degree throughout this time, oscar also really comes into his own in v6-7—oscar emerges and flourishes in ozpin's absence, even as bits and pieces of ozma's past lives, including ozpin, are integrated into his psyche. he becomes more confident, more courageous, more certain of himself, more committed to trust and honesty—and in every respect, increasingly less like ozpin.

it feels... telling? that the first genuine conversation oscar and ozpin have after ozpin returns involves oscar expressing this feeling—that he's become more himself without ozpin—and ozpin gently dismissing it as merely an illusion. i also don't think it's entirely coincidental that ozpin spends a significant chunk of the volume after this point alternately trying to convince oscar to let him take control or else do things that will accelerate the merge, like using magic. ozpin isn't... malicious, exactly, but he is deeply uncomfortable with not being in control. that's why his lack of trust in oscar, and his ultimate decision to acquiesce when oscar asks for trust, is the fulcrum of his character arc in v8—and an exact reflection of salem's "i've realized it's all my fault" thing with cinder.

like

the contrast here isn't that salem could choose to do better and ozpin has no choice; salem is cruel and exacting, but ozpin is no less ruthless than she is. he just goes about it much more subtly and is, frankly, the better manipulator by a wide margin. and the shifting dynamic and balance of power between ozpin and oscar in v8 very precisely mirrors the paradigm shift between salem and cinder; i think ozpin's change of heart is a lot more likely to be immediately genuine than salem's is, but i have the same questions about him that i do about salem—how far is he willing to change? how much is he able to change? to what lengths is he willing to go to follow through on his words with actions, to challenge his own habits, to relinquish control, to be vulnerable even when it's hard?—because their circumstances are broadly similar.

and like, while salem is going to have this external pressure to change in the form of cinder's ongoing and escalating rebelliousness in conjunction with salem's obvious determination to keep cinder on her side without squashing the rebellion—hence tacit permission granted in 8.14—for ozpin the more genuine desire to change and the much more prominent and genuine care he feels for oscar is going to be up against the temptation to just... wait it out, until there isn't enough left of oscar to demand change. the longer ozpin hesitates the less pressure there will be on him, because oscar's dissolving whether they like it or not and oscar has already kind of just accepted that he's going to die sooner or later, and the only way to truly prevent that from happening is for them to be separated, which is something that ozma... to all appearances has never seriously considered before, even when he had all four of the relics at his disposal.

[jinkicake]

Struggling to breathe 😫 I saw this edit on Tiktok about how the wanderer doesn’t remember his past and I am HERE FOR IT like scaramouche just waking up to nahadia and traveler taking care of him and confused why everyone is so jumpy around him. “ did I do something wrong before I woke up?” Like lmao he’s getting a little frustrated bc traveler wouldn’t tell him about his past and tbh name either like it’s not even you were bad it’s the archons SUCK😬 like Imazuma? We don’t know her!🥰 but it was getting spicy bc he confesses his feelings and imagine if he finds out about himself afterwards 😮‍💨 like me personally I’m not wasting that opportunity; personally he can take that frustration out on me if he wants to😌 these 5”5 men have been running loose in my head for far too long. Like I said I like albedo as a JOKE and now he’s everywhere I look like pls sir I need a BREAK!! I had a dream a while ago about his hands and I have still not recovered 😔 like I went to sleep thinking “ I bet his hands are soft” and then he was there🙂 like I was drawing something? And he wanted to hold my hand and I mentioned that they would probably feel nice without his gloves and I was right; they were so warm and soft but bc he’s a little shit he would just touch my shoulder or waist randomly and smile when I get surprised🫠 like his hands felt worn but they were really soft and warm and the tops of them had little scars all over them bc he probably gets hurt in his lab a lot. Idk what it is but they put crack in the men from Khaenri'ah. Like kaeya, albedo, dain(aether by proxy) they’re all got asf and I would let them mistreat me any day😌 Albedo and scaramouche together tho would be a lot bc scara likes to push the limits and albedo will comply for science like you can’t look to him for help bc he will give you the coldest most uncaring gaze and not even show a drop of sympathy. “You can take a bit more can’t you?” I HATE HIM!! like I’m any pair he’s just there to make the situation worse😔 kaeya? He’s gunna hold you down and tell you to stop squirming so kaeya can go deeper

EEEK? LIKE SCARA FORGETS HE TRIED TO KILL THE TRAVELER? wait,,, why is that so genius. that's so good like the thought of him falling for the traveler without knowing what he did in the past and WHEN he finally finds out everything (and he finds out the traveler all knew about it-)-

yeahhhh... i think that could ensue some hate sex, some betrayal sex, some crying scara.... what could be better than that??? take advantage of it!!!

omg you had a dream and saw albedo?? im so jealous... T T if i ever went to sleep and had a dream about kaeya, oh id never wake up! but i know that pile of clay has the softest hands ever like he looks like he'd take really good care of himself hygiene wise! he'd have really pretty hands, and now im drooling!

yeah khaenriah men are peak, i don't make the rules they literally have kaeya and pierro... every other man is irrelevant.

O.M.G. imagine scara fucking you while albedo watches and takes notes for his 'research' like he'll let the puppet just do whatever he wants,,, it's all in the name of science! you'd have daily labs where scaramouche just pushes you as hard as he can (my fav psycho!!) and albedo jots it all down in veryyyy heavy detail!

id fuck kaeya any day of the week btw, backwards AND upside down so likeeee you don't even have to get me to say 'yes' to partake in that bc the answer is automatic!!!

also.. you and i.... we can't keep letting these 5'5 men win... we simply can't. let's move on as a society (i say while farming for scara heheheh)

[erratic-brainrot]

7, 10, 11, 35 for the SP ask/do meme?

Okay this took me forever to get to but I did it all tonight so UwU!

7) Do you have any sympathy for Cartman?

Yes, I do though it's not uncritical sympathy. I still think hes a horrible person within canon on terms that are solely his own— not just a product of being a native child (which was originally the angle i saw with cartman). He’s clearly a child dealing with an unhealthy parent, which I would dare to use the term abusive, though Liane is a very complicated character, deeply in the closet, littered with insecurities, LEARNED to gain attention and credibility through being an abusive person himself.

I can sympathize with his pain, especially from the angle of a child while condemning him a fuck ton. And is a very fun character to analyze and exhausting to write for this reason.

10) If you had to match each kid in Craig's gang with the kid that was the most like them in Stan's gang, who would be the most like who?

This might be basic as hell but here we GOOO—

Cartman and Clyde are easy as they are stupid chubby dumb dumb gamers who dont have the best concepts of what women are. Also they’re canonically on friendly terms??? So yeah.

Stan is hard because I can see him as Craig or Tolkien. But for the sake of a new conversation, I’ll say Tolkien. Both are shown to be level headed people, reference to lean on the more sensitive, are passive in interactions, both get fed up with shit easily but tend to walk away, both have a type in competitive gals, and now both deal with a weed farm they had no choice in existing at.

Now with Kyle it's tricky because he's a very specific character, he also parallels Tolkien well with the contrast of passive and active— but there similarities seem to be surface level and acquainted to being the “Mom Friend” of the group. For some reason I oddly want to say Tweek, more so for what I see based on their possible futures and their development.

Both characters are (to me) anxious over thinkers, who repeatedly question the morality of things, have low self esteem, are kinda aggressive? Maybe able to hold their ground is a better word, heavily mocked, very work focused people, and care a lot about the implications of actions.

They both also deal with a lot of non-physical abuse (tweek is unarguable the victim of psychological abuse, and I truly see Kyle experiencing a lot of verbal-abuse from gerald, both are easily manipulated by others despite also being strong minded, and a bunch of horrible things from town folk), had a large majority of people think they were gay from means out of their control when they genuinely werent even questioning anything, both tend to play range/healer characters (though this isn’t always the case IE barbian tweek), and both are non-catholic but aren’t atheists either! Kyle is Jewish and Tweek is Buddhist. I just think Tweek and morden Kyle have a higher likely hood of understanding each other and getting along.

Now here is where it gets hard and I say some controversial things.

From the remaining two…. I would have to say that Craig and Butters are the most alike. In reality I think Clyde and butters have the most similarities but if were going to pair off— Clyde is the only reasonable answer to cartman.

Now to explain my answer. Both Craig and Butters are kinda awkward kids who have minor (though different) difficulties socializing, they both are passive, they both have kinda niche interests that people tend to ignore, they’re both randomly assumed to be queer for dumb reasons, both are depicted as native, both get animated with the dumb high smile, both are rodient owners, both kinda struggle to understand why people react a certain way to what their saying when it wasnt the intent, and aren’t apposited to being the bad guy in games, so yeah.

Lastly, Jimmy and Kenny. Theyre kinda just forced together because they dont fit perfectly with most people, but there still is common ground. Both have a strong moral principle, both want to put their best into the world, both are kinda perverted minded, both have a crude sense of humour, both are referenced to have addictive personalities, both are reference to have highly successful careers in the future, both have a kinda nonchalant manner to them, both have their own difficulties speaking, and both are often forgot about smh. There probably more but I’m tired lol, gonna probably get ready to go nini after this post.

11) if you had to kill of 3 of any of the main (minimum importance level is Kevin Stoley or Red) kids, who would you murder?

Uh, it depends on context. Whether you mean in canon or fanon or generally just dislike enough to want to murder.

For the sake of ease i'll go with the later of characters I simply dislike.

Bradley Biggle, his jokes are lame, he owns slaves, hes a coward and kinda a dick. He also shares the name of bicurious bradley who i love and I always have to specify because he exists. I'd deck this child, I apologize.

Gerald Broflovski, probably a bad decision but i just hate him so much. His smug abusive ass, I hate him. He’s such a covert cunt. Doesn't deserve to kiss sheila, smh

And then its a tie for Richard tweek, stuart McCormick, Randy marsh, stephen Stotch, Linda Stotch, Harriet Biggle, and michele's parents

35) Write a shitty poem about your favourite character?

Mmm to decide if I should use old works or not. Ill try to do a new one on the spot.

I’m a secondary character within my own life.

I fade to the back, left out of sight.

Forgotten.

Locked in.

Meant to serve function.

A conjunction,

Of destruction,

Then reconstruction.

In contradiction,

To the recollection,

Of memories.

They all forget about me.

[imtryingmybeskar]

So I'm sure we have all seen Pedro in the overalls today and my beautiful friend suggested a farmboy fic and I couldn't rest until I made it a reality.

*Disclaimers* I know nothing about farming, nor am I from the US. I imagined him as having a softer version of the Whiskey accent.

18+ only! You know the drill. 3.9k words.

The first time you saw him he was striding along the dusty road to your farmhouse, the sun at his back, his shadow stretching long ahead of him. Only someone looking for work and out of luck with it would be approaching at this late hour. From your perch at your bedroom window, you could look down and see the fatigue in the set of his shoulders, the dejection in the bow of his head. As he neared he stopped and dropped his pack to the ground before attempting to make himself presentable - raking his hand through his dark hair before setting his cap back on, dusting the legs of his overalls free of as much of the dirt of the road as he could, and finally straightening his back, righting his posture to make himself look strong, tall, not as hard up as he was. His rap at the door came as you were nearly at the bottom of the stairs and your dog, who had been peacefully sleeping at his approach finally woke and defended in a storm of paws and tail and barking.

"Hey! No!" you told her, and she quietened down and stayed where you told her to, in the line of sight from the doorway but no immediate threat to anyone on the other side. Opening the door you were greeted by the sight of a not-so-young-anymore man. Despite his efforts to clean himself up, his arms were streaked with grime and sweat and you could see the stains of his exertion under his arms and at his neck. His head remained bowed as he began to speak and you got the feeling he had replayed this spiel many times recently.

"Ma'am, I'm very sorry to trouble you. I'm here to see if you are lookin' to take on anyone at the farm at this time?" His voice was deep and rich with an enticing southern twang, sweet as honey whiskey.

"What kind of work can you do?" His eyes raised to your face and the hope you saw in their soft, dark depths almost melted you. As if he hadn't even gotten this far along with anyone for a very long time.

"Just about anything," he answered. "I can drive - harvesters, tractors. I can take care of all kinds of animals, muck 'em out, feed 'em. I've helped birth 'em too, though I know that time is passed for this year. I can sow and harvest by hand too if that's needed. And I can mend things, fences, roofs, you name it." Looking at him appraisingly, your curiosity got the better of you.

"Why are you on foot? Must have travelled an awful long way to get all the way out here." He looked down again, presenting you with the brim of his cap to look at instead and shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"I uh...I lost my own farm. Not too long ago. Sold everything I had to try and keep it afloat. Even my car."

"So, if I were to take you on-" his head snapped up eagerly again. "IF" you emphasised, "Would you be needing a place to stay as well?"

"If you had anywhere that could accommodate me, I would be most grateful for that, yes Ma'am."

"I want you to know that I've been out here on my own for a time. I know how to take care of myself. And I'm sure you heard and can see Tank behind me there." He was nodding as you spoke.

"I don't want no trouble. Just a job and a roof over my head." You eyed him for a few seconds more before stepping back from the door to let him in. He entered gingerly, staring around wide eyed as if he hadn't been inside a house for a long time.

"You hungry?"

"No...I mean, I don't wanna impose-"

"No imposition. If you're gonna work for me, you need feeding. Come with me." The dog whined a little as you approached, and you stroked her head. "Come!" you commanded the dog and she raced away ahead of you. Checking to see the man was following, you led him past the stairs and through the living area to the back. Here you had a small extension set up, with a bathroom and shower and a small room with a sofa which opened out into a bed, ostensibly for guests, though you hadn't had any for years. "You can get yourself cleaned up here. Any clothes you want to wash, you can do in the morning. There's no door to this room, so the only privacy you'll get is in the bathroom I'm afraid."

"This is...fantastic," he said in a low tone. "I've slept outside for a week or more, so this is just...Thank you ma'am," he finished, humbly. You left him to it and went to prepare him a plate of leftovers. When he finally emerged, scrubbed and fresh half an hour later, you bid him sit at the table and presented him with it. Without all that dirt streaking him and without his cap on you could finally see how good he looked and you had to tear your eyes away from the fullness of his lips before you went too far down that rabbit hole. The man was clearly desperate, hanging on to the shreds of the dignity of his old life by his fingertips. There was no way you were going to make him feel like he owed you anything by taking him in. You left him be until you heard him hum with satiated pleasure about ten minutes later.

"Better?" you asked.

"Better," he smiled.

"I see you've made a friend," you said wryly, gesturing to the large hairy head currently resting on one of his feet. You trusted your gut about this man, you didn't imagine him to be anything than he had said he was. But you had to be cautious for obvious reasons. The dog, however, had proved to be a truly excellent judge of character in the past and it warmed you to see her take to him so readily.

"I think I may have bribed my way into her affections. Chicken," he clarified.

"That'll do it," you smiled. He insisted on washing his own plate and then there was an awkward silence between you for a time as he stood in your living room, not really knowing what to do with himself. "Hey, you can sit and watch TV with me, or you can hit your bed if you want. I won't be offended either way."

"I...I think I will go to bed. I'm kinda lookin' forward to it."

"I can understand that," you said as you handed him pillows, blankets and fresh sheets to make it up with. "Just so you know, the dog sleeps down here too. She shouldn't wake you. And help yourself to water in the night, coffee in the morning. Whatever you want."

"Thank you," he said again, his eyes catching yours and looking happier than you had seen them thus far. "Goodnight."

The man worked like a machine. Having lived this life for many years, you were accustomed to being up before dawn, but he beat you to it the next morning, greeting you with a soft "Good morning," and handing you a cup of coffee that he had prepared. He kept up a pace all day, and you moved around each other around the farm, lifting your hands or voices in greeting when you passed. You couldn't help but notice how the soft cotton of his shirt creaked at the seams when he moved his broad shoulders, nor how deft his hands were at every task he set them to. The dog had begun to follow him everywhere and you found yourself liking that too, despite the mild sting of betrayal. He came in to help with lunch and after he washed up, set to chopping salad and buttering bread.

"This is gonna sound weird, but erm...your dog...she ain't partly deaf or anything is she?"

"No, why?"

"Its just, she comes when I whistle, but not when I call."

"Ohhh," you said, realisation hitting you like a wave. "Yeah, well, last night I might not have told you her proper name. I er...I wanted to make her seem a little more intimidating than she is. Just in case, you know. Hence Tank. Though she ruined that when she drooled all over your shoes." He gave a small chuckle, his eyes sparkling.

"So what is her name?"

"Cookie." At this, you heard the tell tale sound of Cookie's claws on the kitchen tiles. "Good girl," you threw over your shoulder at her.

"Well, that suits her a lot better'n Tank. She's so friendly."

"Only to the good ones. You should have seen her with the last man that came in here. She knew he was a wrong 'un. Took me a while to catch on, but I get there in the end." You turned your head to find him looking at you with sympathy and a touch of anger. "Like I said, I can take care of myself," you added and moved on with your day. In his first week staying with you he managed to do most of the little jobs that had been irritating, but not bad enough to address. The tap in the kitchen no longer dripped. All of the fencing was entirely without holes for the first time in forever. The roof of the chicken coop was renewed. You decided to celebrate by breaking out some beers in the evening and sat with him on your porch, watching the sky slowly turn from gold to apricot to scarlet. Once he had started to feel less awkward around you, you found him to be good company - intelligent and curious and with a good sense of humour and even your silences were now companionable, especially a few beers in.

"Need to plant some more things in the garden," he grunted, slurring a little. "Maybe some beets and some radishes?"

"That sounds good," you agreed, "but for tonight, just switch off a bit. Enjoy the beer and the view. You've more than earned it."

"Oh, I'm enjoyin' the view alright," he said. There was something low and sinful in his voice that made you turn your head to him in astonishment and definite interest, but as you did, his eyes grew wide and he started to splutter. "Oh God, I apologise. I haven't had a beer in months and I guess my tolerance ain't what it was. I...I didn't mean to offend. I didn't mean to say that."

"Didn't you?"

"No, I-I'm sorry." Putting your beer down, you came to stand in front of him, placing your hands on his knees and running them up his thighs.

"Are you sure you didn't mean it?" And suddenly the realisation of your own drunkenness came crashing around you. What were you thinking? You couldn't take advantage of him like this. He had nowhere else to go and he had said he wasn't interested. You straightened abruptly. "No, I'm sorry. This is wrong. I'm...I'm going to bed." And you did so, walking swiftly away before he could see the redness of your face.

The next morning, your coffee lay on the counter and you could see him outside the house pottering around. Berating yourself for an idiot for ruining the good feelings you had built up between you, you went about your own tasks in a crotchety mood. He didn't come in for lunch either, and you began to get a little worried about him. Deciding to tackle the problem head on, you brought him out a Tupperware with some food and some water. Eventually you found him in the barn, measuring some of the beams. He hadn't noticed you come in and you stood and openly stared for a moment at the sight of him with no shirt on under his overalls. It was pretty warm in here - you were starting to feel the effects yourself. His back was broad and muscular and his shoulder muscles rolled as you watched him reach up to measure something above him.

"Er...hi," you ventured, a little shyly. He whirled to face you, looking as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't. "I'm sorry to bother you, I just thought you might want some lunch." You deposited it on the hay bale closest to you and carried on, keeping your voice light, "And to say that I'm sorry about yesterday. You said no and I shouldn't have pushed it. I don't want you thinking you have to do anything like that to stay here!"

"Thank you," he said softly as he made his way over to you. "But..I said no because we had both been drinkin' and because I didn't wanna take advantage of anythin' I wasn't bein' offered freely and honestly." His eyes raked over your face, black and piercing in the half light inside the barn. He was so close to you, you could smell the lemon scent of his soap and the musky smell of him underneath. There was a sheen of sweat across his chest and before you could stop yourself or think too deeply about what you were doing, your hands were upon him, feeling the taut, strong muscles of his pectorals. You bit your lip a little as you raised your eyes to his.

"You're not taking advantage," you whispered. "I want this." That was all the invitation he needed to crash his lips upon yours with a fervent desire. His big hands circled your waist and roved your back as his tongue begged entrance at your mouth. Your own hand moved down his overalls to where he was starting to bulge, massaging his length and making him moan into your mouth.

"Christ, I...I've not been with anyone for so long. That feels so good, don't stop." You heeded him, but also brought one of his hands from around your back to your breast where he began to knead it intensely and he groaned again, in between peppering your mouth and neck with kisses. "Fuck, you're so pretty. I thought so from th' first moment I saw you. I didn't know how to say..." For someone usually so reticent, he was on a roll now he had your tit in his hand and you were palming him through his overalls.

You snaked your hands up his body again and undid his overalls, letting them fall and pool around his feet where they landed. His body was gorgeous, broad and muscular with a little fuzz over his chest and running down his stomach. You ran your hands all over it, feeling the slickness of the sweat beading through his hair under your hands and feeling your own body begin to heat and respond in earnest, your clit throbbing a little between your legs. He kicked off his boots, and took off his socks and overalls in one swoop before taking you back in his arms and kissing you ardently again. His hand slid up your shirt and hiked it up, the sweat at your back making it stick to you a little. You broke the kiss to hurl it from your head and away, closely followed by your bra.

"Oh fuck baby, your tits are so beautiful. Lemmie taste you." He got on his knees in front of you and did just that, taking your nipple in his mouth and sucking on it harshly whilst rubbing your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Exhaling a moan of pleasure, you tangled your fingers into his dark waves and pulled him even closer, feeling his smile against your chest as his free hand undid the buttons on your jeans. You could feel the wetness in your underwear now, the telltale stripe of moisture under your cunt as he coaxed that sweet feeling all through your veins with his tongue and fingers on your nipple.

"I want you to fuck me," you gasped. "Need you to fuck me hard."

"Oh don't you worry, baby, I'm gonna take good care of you," he murmured against your skin as he pulled the material down your legs. "Fuck, you're so wet already. I can see it on your panties. I wanna taste you there too. Can I?" His big dark eyes looked up at you with pleading and what you would have called innocence had he not already been flicking his tongue back over your nipple, making you squirm and huff with the pleasurable tickle of it. In reply you pulled the rest of your clothes away from you, but before he could reach his prize you took his jaw in your hand and brought his head up to look at you. He was instantly attentive and alert, looking slightly worried, as If you might have changed your mind in the few seconds it had taken for you to remove your clothes.

"You can taste me, if I can taste you afterwards," you offered.

"Hell yeah you can," he muttered appreciatively as he got to his feet and lifted you on to a haybale. The straw poked you roughly and mercilessly, but you forgot about that when he leaned over you and kissed you deeply again. "Gonna make you feel real good, honey," he promised again before kissing a path downward. He hooked your legs over his biceps and ran his forearms up to your breasts, teasing your nipples again before diving right in to lick warm, wide stripes from your cunt to your clit. It had been so long since anyone had been intimate with you, your head felt dizzy and overwhelmed, but he took it to another level with the enthusiasm he brought to the task. He lapped at you and what you were leaking as if he were a man starved, pushing his face into you, so you could feel his patchy stubble rub against your inner thighs, and sucking gently on your clit. It took an embarrassingly short time before your breaths came stunted and your voice rose in a wail of pleasure as he drove you to your peak, the red hot lava of it flowing from your core throughout your body. He ripped a second from you when he pushed two thick fingers inside and curled them wonderfully to strike against that part inside you that you yourself could never reach. His eyes glittered with lust as you came down from your high and you swore you could come again just from the look he was giving you from between your legs. He kissed your inner thighs and wiped his mouth as he came in for another kiss, your taste all over his tongue and lips.

"Your turn." you announced breathlessly, as you got down from the bale on shaky legs. Not breaking eye contact, you knelt in front of him, the straw on the floor not much of a cushion for your knees. He moaned loudly as you raked your nails down his side, catching them on the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down, allowing his cock to spring free and bob up toward his stomach. You had felt that he was well endowed, but seeing him was something else entirely and you couldn't help the hum of appreciation that escaped you before you leaned forward kissed the reddened tip, his precum brushing over your lips. You looked up at him as you licked it off and could see his breaths coming heavy and wild, his shoulders and chest heaving in anticipation. His hands came around to tangle in your hair as you licked a swirl over his tip before taking it in your mouth and sucking gently whilst moving down his shaft.

"Fuck, baby. You're so good. C-can I move?" You brought your hands around to the firmness of his ass and moved him forward a little to give him permission and saw his head roll back in pleasure. He seemed to not want to hurt you and fucked your mouth much more gently than you thought he would. Your head bobbed further and further down his shaft until he was striking the back of it, making you gag a little. Raising yourself back off, you pumped him with your hand while swirling your tongue over his tender head. When you brought your other hand to cradle his balls he trembled a little under your touch. "Honey, I do not want you to stop, but if you don't I won't be able to fuck you before I come." You removed your mouth from him slowly, hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard as you progressed.

He helped you to your feet and reached down to stroke your clit again while he kissed your lips, the taste of you both mingling in your mouths. Turning your back to him you bent over the hay bale, presenting yourself to him and you heard a guttural sound of arousal behind you before the head of his cock was notching at your entrance and pushing in all at once, stretching you and making you whimper as he bent over your back and kissed your shoulder. "Are you ok, baby?" he muttered. "Does this feel good?"

"Yes," you whispered. "Now fuck me hard."

He bit down a little on the meat of your shoulder and whispered a low "Yes, Ma'am," before standing fully and beginning to piston his hips into you with forceful, firm strokes, his cock pushing further within you each time. It was overwhelming and even more so when he pushed down on your back further so that he was fucking down into you and sliding over your spot with each thrust. The change in pitch of your gasping moans and the wetness that you could suddenly feel around the tops of your thighs encouraged him to fuck you even harder, his cock swelling as he got close to his release and filling you up beautifully. "Like that, honey? Right there?" he grunted as you started to feel yourself lose control around him.

"Yes, there, please, don't stop, please," you begged. He captured your arms and pulled you further back toward him, and suddenly he was striking something white hot and golden inside and you were gone, your cunt pulsating around him and flooding him with you. Your head was so dizzied that you only noticed he had pulled you flush against his sweat-sticky chest when his arms were around you, grasping greedily at your breasts and the hot breath of his rich, deep voice was beside your ear.

"Where-"

"inside." He drove into you half a dozen more times before he cried your name aloud and you felt him pulsate strongly within you, jettisoning his spend into you with groans muffled against your shoulder. As he withdrew, he held you up gently before turning you and lying you on the bale he had just taken you over, coming to lie down beside you with his big eyes searching your face and his big calloused hands stroking the soft skin of your belly. The sweet summer sun was slanting over his face, turning his black eyes amber in its glow and you felt a welcome twinge in your heart as you took his face in your hand and kissed him.

[skaylanphear]

Hi there! Do you have any advice on improving traction towards a fanwork/fic? I love writing—and it's not for notoriety by any means—but having validation and feedback also feels nice (I hope that's not conceited). What would you recommend to someone without a large audience/follower base? I do "advertise" on tumblr when my work is written/updated on AO3. How did your journey start? Thank you!

This is an interesting question and I doubt most people are going to like the answers, but here we go:

So, first and foremost, you need to be realistic about why you're creating in the first place. If you're doing work in a fandom that is older, where content has stopped coming out, or that is simply smaller, you're not going to get much engagement, period. There will, of course, be activity in these fandoms, but it will be far less and the people involved—while they may view your work—will be less likely to comment/spread it around simply because there's not much going on. So if you're creating in that sort of environment (which can be a really good environment if you're looking for something chill with no pressure), then you have to be prepared for low engagement, even if the people you do meet and who are willing to talk about your work are more regularly in your sphere. You can probably make better/closer friends in these sorts of fandoms, if you're willing to try.

But, on the other end of this, if you're coming into a huge fandom late, it's also going to be harder to wade through the massive following to get your stuff out there. For example, in both the Miraculous and Sk8 fandom, I started work pretty early on, when the shows were still gaining traction, and so my "name" as a creator gained traction parallel to that growth, as opposed to when I started writing in the Voltron fandom. With Voltron, I came in super late and so what few fics I had that did gain traction took a lot longer to get there because people already had their fav content creators in the fandom, etc. It's not impossible to get popular in this situation—far from it—but it does take longer.

You'll also benefit from having finished works early on in a fandom's lifespan, at least with writing. This is because there's less competition for views and so more people will be filtered to your work, initially. This means that you have a better chance of getting those comments and kudos. Having a finished work increases this engagement because people look for finished works before works in progress. Generally, the length of a fic doesn't matter much for popularity, so long as it's DONE. When I was writing in the ML fandom, quite a few of my earlier fics were shorter, and they compete in popularity with my longer fics, because people care more about having a finished story, not a long story. That's why when it came to Only Practice Makes Perfect in the Sk8 fandom, I worked hard to get that shit done, because it was the most popular story I had in the fandom and I decided—like an idiot—to make it a long fic. Which, yeah, means people probably love it/remember it more in the long run, but if I hadn't finished it in 2 to 3 months, I'd have lost considerable traction as far as making a name within the fandom.

This leads into one of the most important points, if not THE MOST IMPORTANT point in gaining an audience—consistency. If you do want to be a successful creator, you Have To Be Consistent. This is the most difficult hurdle for all creators, and it is oftentimes impossible to make happen. If you want to aim for professionalism, which a lot of fandom creators don't care about (which is fine), then consistency is how you get there. Nobody wants to read a fic or follow an artist who doesn't stick to creating what they start (RIP all my unfinished works and the people who left me as a result, LOL). Using my most recent works as an example, I very, very, very consistently updated Only Practice Makes Perfect multiple times a week. To the point where people got comfortable expecting it, which is the key variable here. When people become comfortable that you will regularly create content, they not only stick around, but will be more interactive with you and your work. Nobody likes the disappointment of getting involved with a work only for that work to rarely get updates. Most people don't have the attention span to care. I'll admit, if I read a fic that's not finished and the writer takes one week to update, then one week, then THREE weeks, I probably will, like, forget about it. That's just life.

The best thing you can do is schedule. And again, this is the HARDEST thing to do, because it holds the creator to a deadline. Most people who create in fandoms don't want that kind of pressure—and that's fine. I go back and forth on when I have scheduled releases and when I don't, depending on what I'm aiming to do. But if you to retain your audience, telling them that you will update a work regularly on such and such a day and such and such a time, it creates something for them to remember. If they're invested in your work, they will think, "oh, it's Friday, that means such and such is coming out with something new." But, with that in mind, you also have to commit to a schedule that people will remain invested in. Which basically means you can't put things out more than a week away from each other, unless you're really, really famous, lol. If I told people I was going to go on a two week update schedule, I would lose most of my audience. But a week is long enough for people to both still remember and anticipate. That's just how the scheduling of the world works. And if you're an artist that's working on a big project, then you have to share progress, or pieces of what you're doing on a regular basis. That's what generates "buzz" and keeps you relevant. And, yeah, that's a really hard schedule to commit to, because it's a lot of work. BUT this consistency is where you see people being successful. Popular youtubers may not have gained their popularity by being consistent, but most sure do retain it that way. And again, there are outlying exceptions, but they generally ARE exceptions.

Speaking of hard work, here's probably the second hardest thing to accomplish—you have to be prolific. Especially as a writer. You have to write A LOT if you want to gain an audience. And yeah, that means you have to work, a lot. I love my work, so I enjoy that "grind," and I also have developed a lot of strategies to work around writer's block and every other obstacle that tends to catch people up. I work in a very professional manner—I do outlines, and drafts, and plan. I do a lot of stuff that people who do this kind of thing for fun can't be bothered with (and that's fine), but that's because I find it to be what works best in creating an efficient environment. I'm also very, very NOT lazy, lol. I was raised in an environment where you have to work for everything that you want. My parents didn't buy me my first computer, or snowboard, or what have you. We were tight on money and if I wanted something, they couldn't help me—I had to get that shit on my own. And I also grew up on a farm, where hard work was a staple of how you did things. You did things the right way, even if it was the hard way. You can't cut corners and it's the same with this. If you want it, you have to actually do the work, that's it. Some people get lucky with popularity, most don't. Most famous actors didn't become well-known off their first efforts, they had to keep trying and keep working and then they have to continue to do that to stay relevant. So if that doesn't sound great to you, then you might want to not focus on your audience and just create because you enjoy it, lol. Sometimes that's what I do too, when I don't wanna deal with the pressure.

Moving on, here's another point that nobody is going to like. Simply put, you also have to be good at what you do. I think some people don't realize that I've been writing fic for over fifteen years. I currently have nearly 2 millions words worth of fics on AO3 and that doesn't include a majority of the stuff I've ever written. I practice A LOT. I write every day. And I'll tell ya, when I started out in middle school, my stuff was not good. But I worked hard, I ignored the hate, and I kept going. That is the only way you will ever get better at anything. There's no quick way to become a better writer, or artist. And a vast majority of people are only going to pay attention to your stuff if it's quality work. Getting to that point is a process, on top of then creating stuff that fits into popular molds. Not only am I good at what I do (and I don't care how arrogant that sounds—I've worked my ass off), but when it comes to fandoms, I rarely write "rare pairs" and "crack ships." Generally, if it's popular, that's where I am. That makes a big difference and I honestly don't have sympathy for people who write rare pairs and such and then complain about lack of engagement. You knew what you were getting into (it's mostly the Miraculous fandom that gave me this bitterness). If you're not writing what people WANT to read, then your audience is simply going to be smaller. And that audience doesn't owe you their attention, no matter how frustrating it is or how good your work is. I could be the best writer in the world, but if I'm writing RekixCherry fic, I have nobody to blame but myself when nobody reads it. BUT if that's your passion, and writing a certain unpopular thing makes you happy, then, again, you need to not be concerned with traction and your audience.

The last point I'll make is that it matters HOW you present yourself online. A good chunk of the well-known creators in any fandom are, simply put, older people. And those that aren't, and are able to connect with those older creators, have generally created a bubble around themselves of maturity and, like, of being nice, lol. A lot of creators are skittish these days, and if you're an asshole (anti) or fight a lot over stupid shit, you may get a bigger audience, but you will isolate yourself from other creators. And this is important because oftentimes it is your exposure to other creators that will get your work circulating. The reason I got popular in the ML fandom? I wrote a short angst fic and a really popular artist shared it/talked about it and the rest was history. But if I'd had a habit of being an asshole, probably wouldn't have happened. And, granted, I'm not saying don't voice your opinions, but if you're loud all the time, it does turn people off. Especially creators because they are oftentimes the ones being attacked. They don't want to pull more of that negative bullshit into their lives. I'll admit, when I was in the ML fandom, I was down for a fight, but then that's what people came to expect, and it probably did turn others off, and then when I didn't fight, or didn't think the way my audience thought I should, it, again, turned people off. It's really not worth it unless being that type of person IS your platform.

So, that's all the advice I can give, I suppose. And even if you do all this stuff, that still doesn't mean you're going to be popular. At the end of the day, the thing that I stick to is this—I do what I want, I love what I do, and I work hard. If I'm in a position to worry about all that other stuff, then sure, I do, but otherwise… There's no easy way to become popular and, quite frankly, it's better to just "live" working hard and being a decent person than it is to focus on all this bullshit. I've created a working environment where I function within these "points" quite naturally, so it's not something I think about (except for schedules, lol). Sometimes I get popular in fandoms, sometimes I don't. At the end of the day, it comes down to how much work you're willing to do, because you will always be giving more than you are getting back, so you have to at least enjoy what you're doing.

Seriously, just do it because you love it. And if the pressure of everything above is something you don't love (I like a good, high pressure situation, lol), then don't do it that way—it's not worth the grief.

[heyitssmiller]

Frosted Windowpanes Part Two

I have no idea why this was so hard to write? Part one just came so easily and this... not so much. But here it is! All the holiday tropes! Christmas puns (thank you to all of y’all who gave me ideas for those)! Falling in love!

As always, @donttouchmycarrots is my hero for proofreading!! Love you <3

@lumosinlove Guess who’s back to borrow your characters ;) Thank you so much!!

Part One if you missed it!

.

Finn had a Plan.

Well, half a Plan.

Maybe.

Step one: meet up with Logan and Leo again. Step two: woo them. Step three: …

Well, it wasn’t much. And it was very vague. But Finn’s plans tended to never go the way he wanted them to anyway, so vague was usually for the best. And so far, it had been going well. They’d grabbed dinner several times, ran into each other at the store or buying Christmas presents downtown. And on Monday the diner was closed, so Finn and Leo spent hours at the farm helping where they could and pestering Logan. He was so fun to tease – he got all gruff and grumpy and adorable. Leo seemed to think so, too, if the number of times he teamed up with Finn to make Logan get all red was anything to go off of.

At the beginning of all this, Finn had thought he’d been overdramatic. He’d woken up the morning after first meeting Logan and Leo and assumed he’d been tired and jet-lagged and was imagining all those feelings he’d felt the night before.

And then he’d met up with them again.

Love at first sight wasn’t real. Finn knew this. But being here, meeting Logan and Leo, just might have been enough to change his mind. It made no sense, but – well, here he was. The past few days were happy, rose-tinted, and Finn couldn’t believe his luck. What were the odds that he’d find both of them in this sleepy little town?

So here he was, pulling into the parking lot of Leo’s for a cup of coffee and a healthy serving of sweet southern blond.

Leo was out front, shoveling snow and looking absolutely miserable while doing it. He was bundled in a thick coat and hat, scarf wrapped high around his neck. Finn laughed under his breath as he turned his car off and braved the cold. Poor southern boy. Leo glanced up at him briefly when he approached, then did a double take.

“Morning, sunshine.” Finn said with a cheeky grin. “Enjoying the snow day?”

Leo’s resulting grumpy look made Finn laugh. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Nate called and said he can’t make it to work today because the roads are so bad.” Leo took a deep breath, and then the rest of his words came out in a jumbled, rushed mess. “Which isn’t his fault and I’m not blaming him at all. But I haven’t started cooking and we open in thirty minutes and there’s no coffee brewing and nowhere for people to park because of this goddamn snow and so I’m stuck shoveling snow instead of cooking and I’m so far behind-”

Finn gently pressed a finger to Leo’s lips, halting the nervous ramblings. Leo looked down at his finger, then back up to meet Finn’s eyes.

Oh, he was so gorgeous.

Finn had to force himself to focus on the matter at hand instead of cherry-red lips and soft baby blues. “Relax, ok? And hand me the shovel. I’ll do this, while you get on inside and start cooking.”

“But – Finn,” Leo said, and wow did he love the sound of his voice in that southern twang.

“Leo,” He echoed with an attempted accent, eliciting a smile from the blond.

“I can’t just ask you to work. You’re on vacation.”

“First of all, you didn’t ask – I offered. And the friends I’m visiting are both at work,” Finn explained, “so I’ve been left to my own devices for the day.”

Leo winced in sympathy. “Bless your heart.”

And see, Finn had done his research. He’d googled New Orleans, the state of Louisiana, and the south in general. And he’d learned that southerners were very confusing – more confusing than people gave them credit for. They were polite and kind to everyone, even if they definitely didn’t mean it. The phrase “bless your heart” could mean they either absolutely adored you or they thought you were the worst person on the planet.

Finn really hoped it wasn’t the latter. He didn’t think it was the latter, anyways.

“I’m literally dying of boredom. I’ll shovel the snow, and then I can come help you cook!” At Leo’s skeptical look, Finn brought out the big guns: his puppy dog eyes. They were known to melt even the hardest of hearts. He’d learned this lesson in college when asking his Grinch of an Ethics professor for some extra credit. “Please?”

Leo hesitated, but Finn could see the exact moment he caved. “Alright. But you’re getting paid.”

“Absolutely not. Consider it a Christmas gift.”

“I’ll pay you in food and coffee.”

“Deal.” Finn said, grabbing the shovel from Leo’s mittened hands. “Like I could ever say no to your food.”

Leo’ smile, warm and a little bashful, probably could’ve thawed the snow on the pavement if it was directed that way. “What would you like: sweet or savory?”

“Sweet,” Finn said instantly, even though he really preferred savory. His one-track mind was still stuck on dimples. “But I take my coffee black.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Finn watched him go, knowing that he had the dopiest smile on his face. Today was going to be a good day. And he knew a way to make it even better.

Finn dialed the number for Tremblay’s Trees, hoping more than anything that Logan would be the one to pick up. But of course he wasn’t that lucky. A bright, cheery voice answered the phone - definitely not Logan. “Tremblay’s Trees!0 This is Thomas, how can I help you?”

“Uh,” Finn said articulately, “Hi, I’d like to talk to Logan. Is he there?”

There was a slight pause, then: “Maybe. Who’s asking? And how do you know our dear Lolo?” The voice sounded curious, if not a little mischievous. Before Finn could answer, though, there was a scuffling over the line.

“Talker, give me the phone.”

“Oh, come on, I’ve got the five o’clock news slot tonight. Give the people what they want, Logan! Who’s your mystery caller?”

“I swear to god-”

The scuffling sound got louder, then there was a loud clatter when Finn assumed the phone hit the ground. He jerked his own phone away from his ear with a wince. “I am very confused.” He stated, not sure if anyone else heard him.

There was a small, softer rustle, then a breathless voice asked, “Hello?”

Finn couldn’t help but smile. “Hi, Lolo.”

That laugh was just as wonderful over the phone as it was in person. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Mmm… I might need to be convinced.” Finn said, letting some flirtiness slip through. “Anyways, I’ve got an idea. You busy today?”

“I’ve got the morning off. Why, what did you have in mind?”

So Finn, with the phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, told the story of this morning as he shoveled – Nate not being able to make it to his shift, the ice and snow in Leo’s parking lot, Leo being behind on cooking and acting anxious. “So I was thinking we could do something? Like a surprise? And I know you guys need to actually sell things and make a living and stuff but I was thinking about decorating the diner? He just works so hard and he’s so stressed and I feel like he could use a little holiday cheer. What do you think?”

The other voice from earlier must have shouted, because he was loud enough to hear over the phone. “Phone guy! What the hell did you say to make him melt like that?”

Logan punched Talker in the shoulder. Hard. “I will lock you in the closet, Talker. Shut. Up.” His attention was brought back to the phone by Finn’s laugh and his demeanor softened again. He’d never met someone as chaotically considerate as Finn O’Hara. It was such a sweet, thoughtful idea. And it was something to help out Leo? How could Logan say no?

“Sounds like a plan.” Logan said, cradling the phone closer to his ear. “Most people already have their decorations so we don’t have a whole lot left, but I’ll see what I can find.”

“Perfect! Oh this is going to be so fun – fuck, I’ve gotta go. Customers just showed up. But I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Great. Ok see you soon bye!” The words reached Logan in a rush before the line went dead.

What a dork.

Logan was pretty sure he was half in love with him.

“So…” Talker said suddenly, making Logan spin around quickly. “Who are you pining over?”

Noelle, who had been passing by on her way to the kitchen, backpedaled in order to join the conversation. “Are we talking about Logan’s love life? Because I’m so here for that.”

Logan sighed and went to the coat rack by the door, grabbing his coat, toque, and scarf. “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

They both promptly ignored him. Talker grinned at his fiancée, sensing trouble he could get into. “He’s become such a sap.”

Noelle snuggled up to Talker, turning her teasing gaze to her brother. “But if it’s who I’m thinking of, they have such good chemis-tree.”

“Did you guys practice this or something?”

“Hey man, don’t be so defensive.” Talker said, voice turning serious. “You know we’re all rooting for you.”

“I hate you both so much.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Lolo.” Noelle sighed, giving him an over-the-top hug and obnoxious kisses to his cheek. “We’re just having some fun. Do you want us to stop needling you?”

“I’m having fun fir sure!” Talker shouted, then burst into raucous laughter, which stopped as abruptly as it started. “Wait. That wasn’t Leo on the phone. You've got eyes for someone other than him, now? Branching out a little, are we?"

“No.” Logan said instantly, then winced. Because his feelings for Leo definitely hadn’t changed. But then there was Finn… “Maybe. It’s complicated, ok?”

“The redhead that was hanging out with you and Leo on Monday?”

Logan felt his cheeks heat up but didn’t say anything. Monday had been the best, though. Showing the two of them the farm and how he did his job and watching their noses and cheeks turn adorable shades of pink from the cold. Even though he’d been there for a year, Leo still seemed in awe of all the snow. He clearly hated it, but Logan could tell he still found wonder and beauty in a clean blanket of undisturbed, freshly-fallen snow. Finn, even though he was clearly freezing too, kept cracking jokes the entire time, his voice muffled by his scarf. They’d walked and talked and learned more about each other among the saplings that would be full-grown and ready to be cut down by next season.

Yeah, Monday had been a great day.

And Logan was so screwed.

“Birch, please.” Noelle teased, then softened. “But really, Logan. Both of them were just as interested in you as they were in each other. You’ve got nothing to worry about, you just need to talk to them.”

He looked up from the buttons of his coat. “You think so?”

“Only one way to find out. What are you doing with them today?”

“We’re decorating the diner.” Logan pulled his hat on and looked over at his sister. “Do you think dad’ll be ok with me taking some garland and a wreath?”

Noelle scoffed. “With all the coffee and pastries you boy’s given us, I think he’s more than paid for it. Do you want company?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on,” Talker said, wiggling his eyebrows. “We’d make the perfect wingmen.”

“You did enough while I was on the phone, thanks.” Logan said, grabbing the keys from the counter. “Ok I’m headed out. See you later.”

Talker and Noelle sent a chorus of boos after him, only stopping when the door closed firmly behind him. He huffed out a laugh, shook his head, and headed towards the display counter to grab decorations. They were a little old since it was so close to Christmas day, but they’d have to do. Logan hesitated for a split second, then grabbed the Santa hat as well. They’d get a kick out of that. He threw the decorations in the back of the truck and took off down the road.

.

They actually worked really well together – Leo and Finn, that is. Finn dealt with customers while Leo made the food. They had a complex, intricate dance around the close quarters of the diner but they seemed to know the footwork already and could predict exactly what the other needed without blinking an eye. Leo peered out the kitchen window at Finn as he took orders at another table, laughing at something one of the women said. He was good at this. He was naturally outgoing and good with people, but he was also efficient and seemed to be able to keep track of twenty different things at once.

Leo frowned thoughtfully down at the grits on the stove. Logically, he shouldn’t like Finn. The redhead had appeared like a whirlwind and thrown everything off course. But then he went out of his way to be helpful and sweet and thoughtful even though it didn’t benefit him in any way. He had a big heart with a lot of love to give. And he gave it willingly to everyone, it seemed.

Don’t get him wrong, that was a good thing – it was a great thing. But it also made the past few days incredibly confusing. Was Finn treating Leo like everyone else, or did he want something more?

He definitely wanted something more with Logan, though. That much was obvious.

Leo just wasn’t sure how he fit into all of this.

Finn barging into the kitchen snapped Leo out of his thoughts. He looked up as Finn started looking around for something on the counters and shelves, tongue poking out in concentration. Leo couldn’t help but smile at the little detail.

“What are you looking for?” He asked, stepping away from the stove.

“The, um…” Finn said, trailing off as he continued to search, clearly distracted. “The spicy maple sauce for the chicken and waffles.”

“In the fridge.” Leo stated plainly, maneuvering around Finn to grab flour from the pantry, brushing against his back as he did so and trying to ignore how the simple touch heightened his awareness of the redhead. Finn threw open the fridge door, scanning the shelves.

“Where?”

“Second shelf from the bottom, on the right.”

A few seconds of silence, then: “Where?”

Leo laughed, dumping a cup of flour into a bowl and heading to the fridge. He peered over Finn’s shoulder, then reached around him with one long arm to grab the bowl of sauce. “Right in front of you, sweetheart.” He teased. Finn turned around so that he was facing Leo, a look that Leo had seen a lot in the past few days but still couldn’t identify on his face.

“Yeah,” was all he said, soft and a little strangled.

Leo looked away from those deep, brown eyes and down at the sauce. His heartrate picked up significantly. “Have you tried this yet?” At Finn’s shake of his head, Leo grabbed a spoon from a nearby drawer. “Figured I’d combine my roots with where I ended up, y’know? Tabasco, black pepper, maple syrup, and a few more secret ingredients.” He said with a wink, spooning some out and holding it out to Finn. “I’m pretty proud of it, if I do say so myself. Try it.”

Instead of grabbing the spoon from Leo, Finn just leaned forwards and tasted the sauce straight from the spoon in Leo’s hand. Leo’s breath hitched and his stomach swooped as Finn straightened again and met his eyes.

Oh, he could stare into those eyes forever. Eyes the same color of the coffee Finn had slid through the kitchen window about an hour ago with the words, “figured you could use some” before dashing off to clear another table. Leo had turned beet red, but grabbed the coffee and held it close before taking a sip.

Leo also hadn’t realized how close they were. The diner was small and the kitchen was cramped, but they definitely didn’t need to be standing this close. Not that Leo was complaining.

“Is it hot in here?” Finn murmured, gaze flitting from Leo’s eyes down to his lips and back again.

Leo seemed a little lost, too, leaning closer to the redhead without even realizing he was doing it. “Must be the sauce.”

It definitely wasn’t just the sauce.

The chime that alerted them to the front door opening startled both of them, forcing them to jerk away from each other and blush furiously.

“I, uh, I’m going to go check on that.” Finn said, still not looking away from Leo as he backed up.

“Ok.” Leo whispered, reaching back to grab the island behind him in an attempt to steady himself. Finn reluctantly tore his eyes away and disappeared from sight, leaving Leo reeling in the kitchen as he entered the dining area.

Finn’s mind was still back in the kitchen, wishing more than anything that he hadn’t been forced to step away. He’d never wanted to kiss someone senseless quite as much as he did right then. And how was he supposed to keep it together when all he wanted to do was flip the diner sign from open to closed and get Logan here and finally talk to them. They’d felt this pull - this magnetism - too. He knew they did. The only thing left to do was finally talk about it. 

Finn was forced to snap back to the present when the counter was suddenly covered in green needles, red berries, and festive ribbons. He looked up to see Logan grinning at him. Under his coat he was wearing red plaid, which matched the Santa hat perched on his head.

How was it possible to want two people so much at the same time? He couldn’t breathe with all the emotions overflowing in his chest.

“Ho ho ho,” Logan attempted to say, but cracked up before he could finish. Finn grinned and laughed as well, stepping forward to greet him.

“You should’ve used the chimney.” Finn joked, tugging on the end of his hat playfully. He got a smile and sparkling green eyes in return. Finn bit back a dreamy sigh. “But really, thank you. Leo’s gonna love this.”

Logan’s face grew a little worried. “How is he?”

Ha.

Haha.

That was a good question, since Finn left him standing there in the kitchen with the spoon still in his hand, looking a little lost.

He ended up shrugging, glancing back at the kitchen door longingly. “Better now. Still seems tired.”

“We’re going to have to force him to take breaks, aren’t we.” It wasn’t a question.

“Probably. If we tag team, I think we can manage to make it happen.” Finn looked down at the decorations. “So where are we putting these?”

Logan looked around the dining area, giving Finn a perfect view of his profile. He longed to kiss that strong jawline so badly, holy shit. “We could hang some over the kitchen window and some around the front window. And the wreath can go on the door.” Finn followed Logan as he maneuvered his way around tables to the front window, eyeing it critically. “The frame is wide enough that it should stay up on its own, so we won’t need nails or anything.” He grabbed the garland from the counter and then turned back around. Finn looked from him to the tall crown molding around the window.

“Need a ladder?”

“No.”

Finn laughed, grabbing one end of the garland and stretching up to place it on the ledge. Once it was secure, he looked over his shoulder at Logan and stuck his hand out for the other end. Logan hesitated, clearly wanting to do it himself, but quickly admitted defeat and handed it over. He huffed at Finn’s smug smile.

“Shut up.”

Finn laughed as he hung the garland. Logan was so small and grumpy and cute. Finn wanted to bundle him up in his arms and never let go. His little pocket-sized lumberjack. How adorable. He was so different from Leo, in basically every way. And yet Finn still wanted them both. How the hell did that work? 

“I should probably check on the customers.” Finn said reluctantly, glancing around at the breakfast crowd. “Do you think you can manage the kitchen window?”

“I got it.” Logan grumbled, sizing up his next target. Finn just shook his head fondly and started making his rounds to the occupied tables. Logan grabbed the remaining garland and headed behind the counter. He couldn’t help but stick his head through the window and look around. It was several degrees warmer in the kitchen than it was in the dining area. Logan was surprised at how tidy it was, considering how hectic the morning had been. There were a few scattered dishes in the sink, but the counters were mostly clean and organized, each bowl seemed to have a designated location. Leo, focused with his head down, maneuvered between stations with an effortless grace as he breaded a chicken tender and threw it into a frier. Logan never thought he’d be so entranced by something as simple as cooking but here he was, watching Leo hum along to the Christmas music on the radio as he poured batter into a waffle iron. He grabbed a mug of coffee off to the side and looked up as he took a sip, jumping when he saw Logan.

“Logan! Hey, honey!” He smiled, like seeing Logan was the highlight of his day. Logan yearned at the sight of that smile. He seemed to be doing a whole lot of yearning lately. “When did you get here?”

“Just a few minutes ago. Brought you something.”

Leo arched an eyebrow. “That sounds a little ominous.”

“No,” Logan laughed. “No, it’s a good thing.” He held up the garland and wiggled it around a little, causing it to sway in the air.

Leo’s entire face lit up. “Christmas decorations?”

“It was Finn’s idea.” Logan said, looking back over his shoulder at the redhead. Leo visibly softened, smile gentle and eyes warm.

“He sure is sweet, isn’t he?”

You just need to talk to them, Noelle’s voice echoed in Logan’s head. Looking at Leo right then, he couldn’t help but think that maybe she was right.

.

“Sure is snowing hard out there, eh?” Logan asked several hours later as he looked out the window. It was a strange lull in the day – too late for lunch, but too early for dinner. They were all grateful for the break. Logan honestly wasn’t sure how Leo did this every day – it was exhausting.

Finn, who was sitting on the other side of the booth from Logan and Leo with his legs stretched out, pulled up the weather app on his phone. “It’s only supposed to get worse. They’re calling for a blizzard.”

Leo looked out at the snow worriedly. “I really don’t wanna drive home in all that.”

“Might need to close up early, then. No one’s going to be out in this weather, anyways.” Logan said, watching Leo bite his lip as he thought about it. “I could drive you, if you want.”

Leo looked over at him, relief clear in his eyes. “Would you?” He rushed to continue, “I don’t wanna inconvenience you or anything, and I know you need to get home too-”

“Leo,” Logan cut in with a smile. If Leo didn’t know Logan would do pretty much anything for him at this point, he was clearly oblivious. “I don’t mind, I promise.”

Leo seemed to accept it without further argument and looked over at Finn. “Do you wanna tag along? I was thinking about making cookies.”

“Well that depends.” Finn said with mock gravitas, leaning forward to rest his forearms against the table. “What kind of cookies are we talking?”

Leo matched his pose, mischief alight in his eyes. “I was thinking snickerdoodles, but I’d be willing to reconsider.”

“Sneak in some sugar cookies we can decorate and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Leo and Finn shook on it, keeping it professional.

Logan was infatuated with the two of them.

“So you’re closing early?” He asked, excited at the prospect of spending the rest of the day with them. At Leo’s nod, he nearly sighed with relief. “Good. You need a break.”

Leo rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same. “Maybe I do.”

Finn grinned. “He finally admits it!”

“Ok, ok, I get it.” Leo sighed, shoving Logan’s shoulder repeatedly until he got out of the booth. Leo followed after him. “I’ve got to put stuff away in the kitchen and then I’ll be done.”

Logan and Finn shared a look before trailing after him. They worked together to clean up, put food away, and organize the receipts and cash register for the day. It went much faster with three people. Before they knew it, all three of them were piling into Logan’s pickup truck, bundled up against the cold and brushing freshly-fallen snowflakes off of their coats and out of their hair. Logan pulled out onto the road, driving while Leo gave directions from the passenger’s seat.

Leo’s house was nice – small, but it looked warm and well-loved. There was a snowman out front, complete with a scarf and carrot nose.

“Cute.” Finn said as they got out of the truck, walking up to the snowman. Leo smiled, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

“My friend’s little brother made that over the weekend.” He unlocked the front door and ushered everyone inside as he held the door for them. Leo’s house was all cool tones – soft blue and purples and greens. There was a tree in the corner of the living room by the window, all lit up and decorated. There were presents under the tree, wrapped in brown paper with ribbons and bows.

Leo hung his coat on the coat rack and took Logan’s and Finn’s from them. “So. Cookies?”

“Nope,” Logan said, grabbing Leo by the hand and tugging him towards the living room. “Rest first, then cookies.” Leo laughed, reaching behind him to find Finn’s arm and pulling him along with them.

“I won’t say no to a Christmas movie.” He agreed as they all collapsed onto the couch. Finn grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and threw it over the three of them while Leo grabbed the TV remote.

Logan moved closer under the pretense of getting under more of the blanket. He was now pressed up against Leo, butterflies in his stomach. “My vote is for Die Hard.”

Finn scoffed, throwing his legs over Leo’s and Logan’s thighs. “That doesn’t count as a Christmas movie.”

“I beg your pardon-”

“Is it about Christmas? No. Case closed.”

Logan leaned forward to look around Leo at the redhead. “It takes place during Christmas!”

Leo just listened amusedly to the bickering as he flicked through movie titles. They were still arguing when he started the cute, old Claymation Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer. Both boys trailed off as the introduction music started.

“This works.” Finn said, settling in to get more comfortable, his calves flexing against Logan’s thighs as he stretched. Logan hummed in agreement, eyes already glued on the screen.

They hadn’t even met Hermey the elf before Leo was sound asleep, head pillowed on Finn’s shoulder and breathing slow and even. Finn looked over blond curls at Logan and smiled, making his heart thud painfully in his chest. He needed to talk to them, and soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could sit there and keep all these feelings internalized.

But it could wait until after a nap. He snuggled up close and turned back to the TV.

.

“No, you need to-” Leo stopped and laughed, pointing to the recipe. “Teaspoon of vanilla extract, darlin’, not tablespoon.”

Finn switched out one measuring spoon for another with a wince. “That would’ve been bad, huh?”

“Very bad.” Leo agreed, looking over at the oven to see Logan already staring back at them, a wide, almost-giddy smile on his face as he started loading cookie dough balls onto a baking tray. One tray of snickerdoodles were already in the oven and spreading out rapidly as they cooked.

“We might’ve put those too close to each other,” Logan said, crouching down to look into the oven. “They’re all starting to stick together. It’s just one big, square cookie.”

“That’s ok. It’ll still taste good.” Leo said with a shrug. They both turned when Finn started banging on the table in time to the music.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas! There is just one thing I need!” He screamed, bopping along to the song. Logan laughed and let himself be tugged forwards to dance. Leo watched as they both jumped around and danced in the kitchen, hips swaying and acting like total dorks. But they were so happy, as well. Big smiles graced their faces as they laughed and sang and held each other close. Leo whisked wet ingredients together in a bowl and leaned back against the counter as he enjoyed the over-the-top show. They were cute together in the warm glow of the kitchen – a sharp contrast to the snow falling outside and collecting on the windowsill. Finn tilted his head back to shriek the last high note, causing Logan and Leo to both burst into fits of laughter.

“O’Hara, please don’t audition for Broadway.” Logan teased, still laughing a little. Finn scowled and grabbed a tea towel, spinning it up before whipping it at the brunet.

This started an all-out war. Many a cookie lost their life in the crossfire when Logan accidentally hit Leo’s arm as he was transferring cooled cookies into a tin. They had a warrior’s send-off as they were dumped into the trash can.

After the cookies were baked and decorated and the kitchen was cleaned thoroughly, it was pitch black outside. Leo had genuinely lost track of time, but he was selfishly grateful for it. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for y’all to be driving in this weather in the dark.” He said, snagging a cookie from one of the plates and taking a bite as he tried to be casual about the two boys potentially staying the night. “I’ve got a guest bedroom and a pull-out couch if you wanna stay here.”

Finn and Logan looked at each other, then Logan shrugged. “If that’s ok with you.”

Ok? It was wonderful.

“Of course it is. I’ll go make up the beds and get y’all something to sleep in, ok?” Leo said before hurrying to his room, where he hastily made his bed and rummaged through his dresser for clothes. He muttered to himself as he pulled out two pairs of sweatpants. “Don’t make a big deal of this, Nutty. They’re just spending the night. That’s it.”

His mind fast-forwarded to imagine sleep-mussed hair, soft smiles, and rough morning voices. Sitting at the table together, nursing cups of coffee as the sun rose over a clean, white blanket of snow. They’d talk and laugh and just maybe share some coffee-flavored kisses.

Leo sighed, pressing his forehead against the edge of his dresser. “I’m screwed, ain’t I?”

.

Logan woke up to a gentle hand prodding his shoulder. He breathed in sharply as he remembered where he was and blinked his eyes open to be met with worried blue ones. “Leo?” He asked as he sat up, voice raspy with lack of use. “What’s wrong?”

He was greeted with an absolute onslaught of words. “There’s so much snow outside. Like, so much snow. I’ve never seen this much snow before. And I didn’t think it would be this bad so I don’t have any milk or bread or eggs in the house and I doubt I can get to the store. How long do you think the roads will be out? And what about the diner? Is snow damage a thing? Do I need to go check-”

Logan laughed softly, falling back against the pillows and covering his eyes with his forearm. “What – milk, eggs, and bread?”

“It’s a southern thing.” Logan couldn’t see him, but he could hear the pout in his voice. His vision was suddenly filled with blond bed-head and wide baby blues as Leo pulled his arm away from his face. If he could wake up to this every day, Logan would die a happy man. “Come on, sweetheart, I’m really freaking out right now.”

One of these days, the terms of endearment were actually going to kill him.

“I’m sure the diner’s fine. Besides, there’s not much we can do until the roads clear, so we’ll just have to wait it out.” Logan shifted over on the bed, leaving a Leo-sized spot open. He tugged on Leo’s arm until he crawled into bed, laying on his side to face Logan, their feet tangled together. Leo was wearing fuzzy socks.

Logan smiled at the sight in front of him, then closed his eyes again. “Go back to sleep, Leo. We’ll deal with it when-”

The door banged open to reveal Finn, face bright with excitement. “Snow! Have you guys seen all the snow? We should-” He stopped when he saw the two boys in bed, nestled together and still sleepy. He cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to-”

“Cuddle.” Leo said, reaching up for Finn as well. “We should cuddle.” Finn smiled warmly and didn’t hesitate to clamber into bed on Logan’s other side, scooting in close and only elbowing Logan once as he got comfy. Logan grumbled, but quickly got over it when he felt a tentative arm wrap around him as he drifted back off to sleep.

.

Leo woke up to two boys asleep in bed with him and couldn’t think of a time when he was happier. They were all tangled together in a mess of limbs and blankets and pillows. It was warm and soft and Leo never wanted to leave. But he also wanted to surprise them with coffee and breakfast. Breakfast in bed wouldn’t be too obvious would it? He thought back to the past twenty-four hours and decided that if this wasn’t flirting, he wasn’t sure what was. Now it was just a matter of taking that next step and actually talking about it. So who cared if it was too obvious or not?

Leo glanced at Logan and Finn one last time. There was just something about seeing the two of them in his clothes. Logan’s sweaterpaws were visible from where he was grabbing onto Finn’s arm in his sleep. Finn was close to the same size as Leo so the clothes actually fit him pretty well. His face was pressed into brown hair, arm tightening around Logan as he huffed out a breath. The sight did something to Leo’s heart. He smiled dopily before sneaking out of bed, his back popping as he stretched. Ok, game plan: coffee, breakfast, talk. He could do this.

He crept down the hall and into the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as he could when getting a frying pan out and setting it on the stove. Next came the kettle for water to use in the French press, bacon, and ingredients to make homemade biscuits. Normally he would’ve done eggs, but they’d used all of them on the cookies yesterday.

The biscuits went into the oven and the bacon into the frying pan, sizzling away. So much for breakfast in bed. Leo knew the smell of food cooking would bring the other two out of the bedroom and, sure enough, he soon heard two pairs of footsteps headed towards him, one slightly muffled by too-long sweatpants hems dragging along the floor. He grabbed three mugs from the cabinet and sent a smile over his shoulder at the two boys.

Three cups of coffee: one black, one with cream only, and one with cream and sugar.

Leo pulled the biscuits out of the oven and quickly transferred them onto a plate, doing the same with the bacon before bringing both to the table.

“Leo, you’re an angel.” Finn said as he grabbed plates and silverware for the three of them. Logan hummed in agreement from in front of the fridge, where he was collecting butter and jams for the biscuits. They all joined each other at the kitchen table, still a little sleepy-eyed and half awake.

Leo, halfway through his first sip of coffee, passed Finn his mug of steaming black coffee, then Logan his own cup full of cream and sugar, just how he liked it. Logan looked down at it and sighed happily, “Love you, Nutter Butter.”

Finn’s head shot up. Leo choked on his coffee, cheeks heating up. Logan looked at them confusedly before he realized what he said and his face paled. “Shit.”

“You... you love me?” Leo asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s heart ached a little at the look on Leo’s face. God, he should’ve told him a long time ago. In response he just slowly nodded, hesitantly meeting wide eyes and hoping for the best.

Leo smiled, letting out a soft laugh. “Honey, I’ve loved you for months.” He took a deep breath, as if gathering up his courage, then reached out to grab Finn’s hand. “And I think I’m falling for you, too. Judging from the way Logan stares at you when you’re not looking, he feels the same.” Leo looked from Finn to Logan hopefully. “Right?”

Finn squeezed Leo’s hand, finally daring to hope. Maybe he could actually have this. His heart thundered in his chest, so loud that Logan and Leo were bound to hear it. “And how does he stare at me when I’m not looking?”

Leo’s eyes flicked over to Logan with a smile. “Take a look for yourself.”

Finn’s breath hitched as he looked over into evergreen eyes, bright and gazing at him the same way Finn had caught him staring at Leo so many times before. He laughed a little in relief, tracing Logan’s cheekbone with gentle fingers.

“I was a little worried we were never going to have this conversation. And I know we’ve got a lot to figure out, but...” He trailed off, a little in awe. What were the odds of this? Everything seemed to fall perfectly into place, like puzzle pieces. It wasn’t some huge revelation, though. There were no grand romantic gestures, no race against time, no frantic outburst. It was calm and gentle like the sun rising outside, casting everything in light pastels and golds.

Logan just laughed softly, scooting his chair back with a loud scraping noise and standing up. “Stop just sitting there and come here, I’ve been wanting to kiss you two for forever.”

Finn scrambled up from his seat and all but threw himself at Logan, nearly bowling him over as he kissed him enthusiastically, arms wrapped tightly around Logan’s waist. Leo smiled as he watched them. He loved their dynamic – the bickering and teasing like they’d known each other for years, and yet the head-over-heels way they looked at each other and held each other and kissed each other. They were so comfortable together, not shying away from anything it seemed. Leo couldn’t wait to see how their relationship grew and evolved over time. He couldn’t wait to see how all three of them would grow together. He stood too and joined Logan and Finn, pressing kisses to their cheeks, their jaws, their necks – anywhere he could reach.

Finn broke the kiss to press his forehead against Logan’s, eyes closed and smile a mile wide. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the first time I saw you at that farm.” His eyes turned to Leo next. He reached up and cupped Leo’s face in his hands. “And I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first bite of pie.”

“What, was the muffuletta not good enough for – mmph.” Leo’s teasing words got cut off by Finn’s lips on his. He sighed into the kiss, draping his arms over Finn’s freckled shoulders and angling his head to deepen the kiss. He could taste black coffee on Finn’s lips and had never loved the flavor more. There was another hand at his back, stroking over his spine. Logan. Leo leaned back into his hand before breaking away from Finn to look at Logan – the guy he’d been pining after for just shy of a year.

“How did I get so lucky?” He murmured, prompting Logan to lean up and kiss him, softly and heartbreakingly gentle. Leo kissed him with purpose, running his tongue against Logan’s bottom lip and causing his breath to hitch.

He thought back to his musings of the night before during his panic in his bedroom and laughed against Logan’s lips. The brunet made a questioning humming noise, so Leo leaned back just far enough to whisper, “Maybe I’m clairvoyant.”

Finn laughed, bewildered. “What?”

Leo just glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, smiled, and combed a finger through red tresses. Sleep-mussed hair, soft smiles, and rough morning voices. Sitting at the table together, nursing cups of coffee as the sun rose over a clean, white blanket of snow. Talking and laughing and sharing some coffee-flavored kisses. Those had been his thoughts last night. And here he was, suddenly getting all of those things.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” Leo said, looking down at his two with overflowing fondness as he thought of the future and hoped that those musings would come true, too.

[writer-and-artist27]

Short Story: Friendly Advice

Note: Dedicated to @kunikida / @professorcharisma /Felix and @hizentadahiro /Lucien on Tumblr, because friendly passion fuels more writing! <3 Thank you to you both for having me on your Discord server — being your friend has been a wonderful treat.

The song for this short story is Be Strong and Hit Stuff by Casey Lee and Jeff Williams from RWBY Volume 8. I couldn’t unhear the song when the full version came out.

Otherwise, please enjoy!

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

“Vy~! Honeeeeeey!”

Vy did her best not to flinch at the sound of her name, turning around mid-walk through one of Chaldea’s many hallways to see a familiar bushy head of blonde-black hair pigtails coming her way. “Lu…?” barely left her lips before her fellow Master bowled her over in a tight hug, arms wrapping around her head. “H-Hello to you too…?”

“Hello to you, Vy—” Lucien paused once one of their hands pressed against the back of Vy’s neck, and Vy could already sense the impending nagging before Lucien pulled back from the hug to make a face. “Were you trying to farm again?”

Vy glanced down at the bag of Saint Quartz in her hands before raising her head to meet Lucien’s eyes with a measly shrug. The fact that her face was starting to heat up against her will didn’t exactly help. “I’d be lying if I said ‘no,’ sooooo…”

Lucien proceeded to sigh loudly from exaggerated exasperation, lowering their hands to Vy’s shoulders and then going on to shake Vy with them. “Honeeeeeeey, what have my hubby and I told you?!”

“Th-That I should,” Vy mumbled mid-shaking, doing her best to keep the swirls out of her eyes while raising a pointer finger in the air, “rest more often…!” The answer, while shaky, was still enough to make Lucien stop shaking Vy by the shoulders, allowing Vy to steadily add, “In my defense, there’s still lots of materials we need to stock up on for the future Singularities, such as Void’s Dust and Forbidden Pages—!”

“That doesn’t mean skimping out on sleep!” The last thing Vy was expecting was for Lucien to lean into her personal space, using two fingers to pinch at the skin underneath Vy’s eyes past her glasses. “I can see the eyebags, Vy!”

“That’s, um, from the nightmares, Lu,” Vy put in weakly with the same raised pointer finger. “Not from the lack of sleep. I haven’t done an all-nighter yet.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Vy!”

Vy closed her eyes and lowered her hand. “Not sure… what else… to say at this point…” And it was the truth.

Lucien lowered their own head to almost scoldingly bump it with Vy’s own, another sigh echoing between them. “Then put those Saint Quartz down, young lady, we’re going to my office to see my hubby.”

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

“Exhaustion, lack of verbal confirmation, sluggishness in movements…” Dr. Roman proceeded to match his partner in terms of dirty looks directed in Vy’s direction, a deep sigh leaving his lips as he put his clipboard down. “Vy-chan.”

“…” Vy shook her head. “Not gonna…” she yawned quietly, hiding it behind a shaky hand. “Not gonna deny any of it.”

Lucien glanced at the otherwise silent girl with a face of their own, absently tugging at one of their pigtails in consideration. “…Vy, have you been taking care of yourself?”

Vy merely gave both medical professionals a tired face to match theirs. “Sugar coat or honest?”

“Honest, please,” Dr. Roman deadpanned.

“Then I can say I’ve been trying,” Vy filled in, shaking her head while raising her fingers in air quotes. “But it’s hard to really ‘take care of myself’ when I don’t even…” She stopped.

Lucien blinked, lowering their voice in sympathy. Something was wrong. “Don’t ‘what,’ honey?”

Vy ducked her head, lowering her gaze away from Dr. Roman’s and Lucien’s as her hands clenched at the hems of her skirt. “I don’t even know how.”

Dr. Roman froze just as Lucien choked a little, rocking backwards in their seat.

“Self-care still feels… weird to me,” Vy filled in for the silence, raising her hands to weakly rub at her upper arms and shoulders. “All I’ve known is studying, work, farming, and work. Nothing… nothing else. Maybe biking. Hiking. Trying.” Her legs curled closer to her chest, her eyes then hidden behind her knees. “Mommy and Daddy liked it when I baked sweets, so I baked for them. When we were in bad times, I would study hard and bring back good grades so that no one would worry about me. And right before I joined Chaldea, Mommy and Daddy convinced me to go and not worry about them. When I… I’ve been doing that enough to where I don’t know what else there is.”

“Vy…” Dr. Roman started, just for Vy to shake her head.

“I don’t know what else to tell you two,” and Lucien couldn’t miss how Vy’s voice cracked with the telltale sign of an incoming sob as she ducked her head. “I don’t know how. And I’m sorry if I… if I disappointed you. I don’t know what else to do.”

I was never taught to do anything else but help. But work for others. How else am I supposed to—?

“Honey, you haven’t—” Lucien got up almost immediately to walk over and wrap an arm around Vy’s shivering shoulders, sitting down next to her for comfort. “Honey, you’ve never disappointed us.” They paused, looking up to give Dr. Roman a look before asking, “Right, hubby?”

Dr. Roman flushed a dark red at the name, but still nodded vigorously as he got up from his chair too. “Lucien’s right, Vy.” With a few quick strides, he immediately sat at Vy’s unoccupied side, reaching over to cover Lucien’s arm with his own around Vy’s shoulders as he did his best to smile. “We didn’t call you here because we were disappointed in you. Far from it. We were just worried because you’ve been doing so well.”

“B-But…” This time, Lucien and Dr. Roman could hear clear sobs as Vy was still refusing to look up from her knees at either of them. “How could you say that? I’m losing sleep, there’s still the Singularities to tackle, not to mention all the Servants, I gotta do more—”

“You don’t ‘gotta’ do anything more than what you have been. Just because we have a unique situation on hand, honey, doesn’t mean you have to shoulder it all alone. That’s why I’m here as another Master, and why my hubby is the Acting Director of Chaldea.” Lucien gave Dr. Roman a look over Vy’s head before raising a hand to gently pat the top of Vy’s hair, humming soothingly. “You don’t have to overwork yourself. You can take breaks, even if you don’t know how, Vy.”

“Besides, Vy-chan,” Dr. Roman squeezed her shoulders with a more reassuring smile, “Breaks don’t just mean catching up on sleep. We can watch a show you like, cook something you want to eat, anything to help you feel better.”

This time, Vy moved, twitching underneath the arms keeping her up as both medical professionals heard a muffled sniffle. “A… A show? But I thought streaming services were down from the Incineration…”

“We still have DVDs and electronic recordings, honey,” Lucien said with a brighter smile, humming all the while. “Anything you can think of, we have.”

Hope was starting to surge back into Vy’s weak high-pitch as she said, “It won’t… won’t take up too much of Chaldea’s energy reserves?”

“None, I can assure you,” Dr. Roman chimed in, relief shining through his voice as Vy slowly raised her head from her knees to let red-rimmed eyes peek out. “And Vy-chan, we’re not disappointed in you. Lucien, Da Vinci, and I — we’re all proud of you. Of how far you’ve come as one of Chaldea’s last Masters. In spite of everything, you still chose to be kind and fight for your fellow person, and not everyone can say the same.”

“But that’s…” Vy’s nose was peeking out past her knees now, exposing her wet stockings and a tiny bit of snot leaking from her nose. “I was just doing what I could. Not to…” She sniffled again, raising an arm to wipe at her nose and eyes. “Not to earn anything…”

“But you’ve earned everything, Vy,” Lucien finished, leaning in to press their cheek against the crown of Vy’s hair. “From traversing Fuyuki to hiking all across America to even fighting that Divine Lion King, that means something. It means everything to us. So you can be a little more selfish.” A chuckle echoed in their throat once Dr. Roman’s gloved fingers tickled the back of their palms as they hugged Vy closer. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, my hubby, or anyone else, honey. Just be you.”

We love you for you just as you love us too.

A single thick tear slid down Vy’s cheek that wasn’t missed by Dr. Roman’s careful hand, and Vy sniffled again. “Th-Then…” the sentence was cut off by another sniffle, but Vy persisted past the blurriness of her glasses, lip quivering as she glanced between the duo. “Do we have the 2003 Teen Titans show?”

Lucien beamed.

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

“Senpai, what kind of show is this?”

“It’s an old childhood favorite of mine, kouhai…” Vy sniffled again, hugging a pillow to herself as she sat in one of the many couches in the break room, her eyes pointed at the TV screen. “S-Something that helped me out when I was little.”

“So this is something precious to Senpai…” Mash quickly gained sparkles in her eyes past her glasses, enough to make Dr. Roman and Lucien chuckle to themselves in their own loveseat. “I’d love to watch!”

“A protagonist with the name ‘Robin’, huh…?” Robin Hood tilted his head at the colorful DVD case in his hand, glancing at the Master next to him as he raised a corner of the No Face May King in his other hand to wipe at Vy’s cheeks. “Did this play into how you summoned me, little sparrow?”

“K-Kinda… but it’s a long story that’s better to watch than explain…” Vy still smiled nonetheless, not flinching at the touch as Arturia came close to gently drape her mantle over the blanket covering Vy’s shoulders. “B-But that’s why I wanna watch with you all.”

“Considering this is coming from our Master,” Achilles leaned back into his own bean bag, placing his spear elsewhere to cross his arms over his chest with a large grin. “Can’t refuse this!”

“I’m relieved to know the cookies and tea I prepared would come in handy,” Bedivere added, passing around a tray of the aforementioned sweets with a modest smile. “I added more sugar in honor of Lucien and my King.”

“Thank you, Bedi!” Lucien chirped while leaning into Dr. Roman’s side, ignoring his embarrassed spluttering as they grinned. “I’m sure it’ll be delicious!”

“Well then,” Da Vinci piped in with a grin, lounging in her own seat as she raised the remote to the TV. “Let’s start watching, shall we?”

A single press of the PLAY button was all it took for the voices of Puffy Ami Yumi to wash over the room. In time with the song’s tune, Lucien closed their eyes with relief once they saw Vy lean into Robin’s side. For once since “King Solomon” incinerated the world, the scene they had now — watching an old show as Vy carefully let the tears fade with her kouhai and her closest Servants — felt the closest to the concept of ‘normal.’ And it was good enough.

[elionwriter]

Since I'm not sure I want to write new, full Fanfictions right now (I'm already working on a Good Omens one) I'm just gonna post some Star Wars/ Dinluke headcanons and prompts and ask you guys if you want me to flesh them out.

PART 1:

Their meeting and the events on board of Moff Gideon's light cruiser change things quite radically for both Din Djarin and Luke Skywalker. On Din's side, without the child actively in his care he is left without a proper goal and without a proper path. He can't go back being a simple bounty hunter, mostly because the ones he did it for are gone...

So what now? He always knew he would do anything to bring Grogu's mission to a proper end but he never actually thought of what would happen after. Nor did he immagine that it would leave him so shattered, broken and lonely.

Is it stubborn denial that his business with the child is over that makes him investigate further about the matter? A part of him wants to believe that yes, yes it is, but something about it just doesn't sit right with him. As Dr. Pershing is brought back as a prisoner to New Republic forces he is thoughtfully interrogated about his work and his part in the operations of the empirial cell. The man doesn't give his interrogators a hard time, answering everything as honestly as he can, but doesn't seem to know much afterall. Din can't help but feel somewhat sorry for him: he was taught cloning engineering by the last Kaminoans alive, apparently another species the Empire had decided were better off exterminated and forgotten after fulfilling their purpose. Except they hadn't, not completely, and now experts on the subject were even more rare than beskar. The Dr. was one of them and his knowledge and capacity was the only thing keeping him alive after the empirials sought him out. Whether or not he had any real sympathy for the imps was rather irrelevant and they were his one remaining shot at doing his actual job (there wasn't really a high demand for clones nowadays). He followed Moff Gideon's orders but he knew that the orders were actually coming from much higher up. Who was pulling the strings and what they ultimately wanted, he didn't know. They didn't trust him with those informations. All he knew was that they needed him to create a body with the kid's life expectancy and his M count. They had kidnapped and experimented on other force sensitive children but none of them seemed to have Grogu's qualities and were disposed of. When the guard told him to stand up to be brought back to his cell, the doctor looked at Din and asked "Is the child safe?" "Yes, he is." Answered the mandalorian and the other nodded exhausted "Good, that's good. Thank you." Din nodded back to him and watched him leave.

The only reason Din had been allowed to follow the interrogation was obviously Cara Dune, which had delivered Dr. Pershing and Gideon to the authorities. Cara was however busy talking with someone he didn't know, another woman, a very elegant and majestic one at that. He couldn't help but notice the friendly and intimate tone the conversation seemed to have. Cara later introduced her to him as senator Leia Organa -Solo, a legend of the Rebellion and the Princess of Aldeeran. Suddenly the two's steadyfast bond became very clear. Apparently, the Senator found the story about the two prisoners extremely distressing and had already "her best man" look into it. She spoke very kindly to Din and, as a true politician, thanked him for his services to the Republic. Din quickly changed subject and asked if Moff Gideon had revealed anything more useful than the doctor.

As expected, Gideon hadn't been as collaborative and hadn't spoken a word since he was brought in. Something in his demeanor, however, had definitely shifted and below the ever guarded and secure facade there was worry. 'That's the face of a man in deep shit! We aren't the ones he's scared of though, one can only guess what makes a guy like him fret like that...' said Cara without bothering to hide her worry.

That was the reason why Din, in the little breakes he stole from the collaboration he had fallen into with Bo-Katan and the other mandalorians, kept searching for answers. The something or someone that scared Gideon had to mean danger. And if there was danger out for Grogu it would ALWAYS be his business.

That's when he realized who the princess' "best man" was. Luke Skywalker had apparently been searching for answers too and it's during one of these occasions that they newly meet. They have a common goal and pupil to protect but very diverse skill sets and areas of expertise. That's why on the hush-hush they agree to meet occasionally when either of them seems to have some new information or lead. Neither of them properly introduces to the other, there's really no need for that, and their partnership remains for some time elusive at best. Din is a naturally secretive and private man, the Jedi on the other hand, seems to have become it, a necessity rather than an inclination. Luke doesn't ever bring Grogu along nor does he mention him, after assuring the other that the child is safe and well. Din doesn't ask. And yet, the most restless one of the two about it is the Jedi. Just like Luke can feel Din's ever present affection and sense of duty toward Grogu, Din can sense that the other is very uneasy on the matter, like two parts of him are constantly battling over something. Again, he doesn't ask.

Despite all this, however, their relationship is far from strained. There is a mutual and instinctive trust and respect between them and it becomes quickly very clear that they work well together. During the nights they have to camp or during the trip in hyperspace the two talk. They discuss about their dying creeds, their principals and beliefs, fighting techniques and recount some of their old adventures. After a while, they open up enough to discuss of their situation and daily challenges and earnestly seek the other's opinion and advice on how to face them.

Din learns that Luke is still a figure on which the New Republic sometimes relies upon, even if only for extremely delicate situations; that he spent the last few years travelling throughout the galaxy looking for lost Jedi artifacts and knowledge, hoping to learn how to best bring the order back to life for new generations of force users (expecially his young nefew); that during said travels he always made a point to help those in need and right wrongs where he saw them; that he still found himself dealing with loose ends of the Empire.

On the other hand, Luke learns of Bo-Katan's quest to reclaim Mandalore; of Din's search for knowledge and history on a culture that should be his own but that he progressively realizes he knows very little about; of his uncertainty on where he stands both with his creed and his peers and the aggravation of the dark saber which he is currently the wielder and protector of.

They feel for each other. No, they understand each other. Even as words completely fail to reveal the most critical parts of these conversations. What they do understand is this: nothing seems to make anymore any fuc****ng sense in their lives! That everything was much more simple when they were just a bounty hunter and a farm boy.

It's not that Din doesn't want to find other Mandalorians and help his people. He and Bo-katan may not always see eye to eye, but they both made extremely clear how loyal they are to their creed. It's just that Din doesn't know anymore if he still has a right to that title and to the armour he wears, if everything he was taught was a lie or not. He broke a lot of rules for the child and can't decide if that is for the best or not.

Luke, on the other hand, can't decide what to make of the Jedi teachings and contradictions he has collected. How can he act like expected and pass on lessons he himself isn't really sold on. It was his family and his ties that kept him alive and safe from the dark when facing the Emperor and his father, but it was also attachments and the Jedi's taboos that had damned his father to begin with. Should he encourage the complete detachment the old texts preached about, should he too talk only of light and cast a shadow on everything that didn't fall in that limited range of the force? But most importantly: should he keep his young apprentice from his beloved father and pointedly ignore the warm flame the mandalorian had effortlessly lit up in him?

Luke can't help but notice that when he slips and gets a bit too close, a bit too intimate and touchy with the other man, the mandalorian doesn't push him away and seems to answer this boldness with an awkward, shy breathlessness. While a part of him knows, Luke doesn't allow himself to hope or acknowledge that flicker in his chest might be mutual.

[piracytheorist]

Small Signs (1/1)

Fandom: Resident Evil 7

Summary: Ethan wakes up, thinking of his wife, who has been missing for three years. Little does he know today will be the first news of her he'll get since she disappeared.

Word count: 1.4k AO3

~

Another dull day.

Another day Ethan wakes up and the other side of the bed is cold.

One would think that he would get used to it, after all this time. But no. Some days he still finds himself waking up and instinctively reaching to hold her.

She always responded to his touch, no matter how deep her sleep. She would sigh and move her body closer to him, then nestle there until she actually woke. He would wait for her to wake up, work honestly be damned, he'd think sometimes.

He stretches his arm, laying it where she would've been, hand on the pillow, fingers running softly over the fabric. He would’ve been mad to think that her scent could have stayed on it after three years.

He sighs. Three years of confusion.

Work be damned, he used to think, but it's the only thing that has managed to keep his mind occupied. His co-workers realized quickly that he was dealing with Mia's disappearance on his own way and time, and they left him alone about all the "You should move on" stuff as soon as they started.

Not that he doesn't appreciate their sympathy. But they’re not in the know.

Even their friends feel distanced to him now. They’ve mourned Mia already, and he’s now the odd one out. He still enjoys their company, but despite the remarks on how it isn't too early to start going out again being rare, sometimes it feels like they can’t get it.

He just wishes he had any fucking way to explain to them the very last message he got from Mia.

"Stay away. Forget that you ever knew me. Have a good life."

It still sends shivers down his spine to think of it. He remembers the moment he watched it the first time clear as ever. How he'd stayed frozen, almost shivering from shock, in front of his computer, for who knows how long after the video had ended. The sirens blaring in the background. Mia's distraught, tired, dirty face. Her telling him to forget her. Completely. As if she never existed.

A part of him – a small one, but a part nonetheless – was almost angry at her request. She'd lied to him – and admitted so – and after all those years of being together, she just expected him to forget all about it? Their love? Her admittance? Her guilt?

Her?

He groans in frustration. Despite anything else, he feels guilty for being even that little angry at her. And for the life of him, he can’t believe she didn’t love him. She couldn’t have just left him… there must have been another reason.

Maybe he should do as she said and have a good life. Maybe he should really move on. Maybe he should just do as their friends want to tell him but won't.

But still... If they had known...

The police had instructed him to not tell anyone about Mia's last video. Even if they hadn't, he still had no idea how to even start that conversation.

"Yeah, first she sent me that sweet message, with the promise of coming back soon, and that same night she sent me this one and it scared the shit out of me. And then she disappeared without a trace. Can you see now why I can't really move on?"

If only he knew what happened. Without a body found, he believes he'll spend eternity hoping he'll get news of her. Not that a body is difficult to get lost and destroyed to the point of no recognition, that fucking voice he hasn’t been able to mute even three years later, says again.

If only he could just know what happened. How, or why she disappeared. If she died, at least if it was quick and painless. At this point he's gotten used to the jab inside his chest at the thought of her actually being dead. It still hurts as much as first, but the pain comes less often and more anticipated.

He wants answers. What was with the creepy video, why she lied to him, what she hid from him.

Who is he kidding? Most of all, he wants her.

It isn't like that every day. He gets up with his alarm clock and loses himself in the morning prep routine, focuses on work, goes back home and finds ways to spend the day by either cleaning, tidying up, maybe distracting himself with a beer with friends and then goes to sleep, hoping the next day will provide opportunities for distractions again.

He's given up on the piano. He was pretty mediocre at it already, so it's not like he has any memories of himself playing exquisite sonatas and Mia sitting next to him, being entranced by his fingers dancing across the keys. But he's supposed to be happy for it. He's supposed to give heart to it.

He doesn't feel like he has much of a heart left. Sad thought, he's aware. But it's also true.

The alarm clock on his phone finally rings. He silences it and gets up.

That one small difference, waking up a few minutes before the alarm, stains his entire day. When he opens the cupboard to take the coffee jar, his eyes fall on the sugar jar and he remembers how Mia took her coffee with sugar, and how that jar has barely seen any use in the past three years. When he washes his now empty coffee mug, the lack of a second cup to wash brings a feeling of emptiness in him. When he brushes his teeth, Mia’s old toothbrush is almost taunting him. He didn’t throw it away at first, because, well, she could have returned at any time, right? After the designated three months since she’d first used it passed, he felt as if throwing it away would send out a sign of resignation to the universe, or something. So there it stays and haunts him.

He’s almost managed to forget about that and ignore its existence. But today, being such a day, when he opens the towel cupboard to take out a new one, it catches his eye. An unopened pregnancy test box, probably expired by now.

The last pregnancy test Mia’d had was negative. “When I come back, we’ll try again. It will be positive, then. I know it,” she’d said.

He just had to change the towels today of all days, didn’t he?

He thinks that getting out of the apartment will make him feel better, with some – relatively – clean air in his lungs. Instead, it makes him feel emptier. No goodbye kiss, no see you later, her house keys still and always missing.

Even with work he can't get his mind off. Especially when an old man calls him for help with his computer and starts talking about how it was a gift from his lovely wife.

Is it too much, that he once dreamed – and sometimes, his traitorous mind still dreams – of himself and Mia growing into an adorable old couple like them? Is it because he was so damn happy, that the universe decided a different path for him?

Ethan feels thankful, albeit reluctant, when Jim invites him out for drinks that night.

Had he been asked, he'd never believe that his sullen mood that day would be a sign. A sign that, while Jim would be talking about a particularly demanding and annoying customer, Ethan's phone would ring with a notification. That he'd turn it on and in a shocked state he'd see that he got an email. From Mia.

Dulvey, Louisiana. Baker Farm. Come get me.

It's her account, he knows it. He even knows the password; he had logged in a few times over the past three years in the frail hope it would somehow bring her to him. Last time was one and a half month ago, on their anniversary.

He doesn't even stop to think. Louisiana, fuck, that's nearly across the country.

Well, no time to waste then. He starts picking up his stuff.

"You okay?" Jim asks.

"Yeah. I- I gotta go."

"Something wrong?"

"No, I just- I gotta go."

"Ethan, what the hell?"

What the hell indeed.

He nearly runs to the exit, not looking back at his friend.

Mia is out there, calling out to him, and he's going to get her back.

~

A/N: Boi has no single clue what nightmare he's getting himself into XD

Anyway, I headcanon that Ethan plays a bit of piano. There are enough appearances of pianos both in RE7 and RE8 (and even a puzzle with one) so I'm going with that. I feel that it's just a hobby to him, so practicing everyday is not his priority, and after Mia disappeared it would just feel wrong to him. Boi's sentimental af.

I looked all over the game's credits, and I couldn't find if the dude Ethan calls at the begining of the game has a name (or even who voices him, lol), so I gave him one myself. I just thought it'd be cool to tie it in that way.

Also, hey, this is the first time I write for this fandom. Yay me! Here's to probably writing more fic!

[nightmaresart]

👀👯💄⌛ for Keira, Brooke, Darren, Orla, Elizabeth and Keith

Since Keira and Keith are basically the same person, just a different au, aka genderswap, I'll be answering Keira for both of them

👀: Personality

Keira is a very closed off person and has a hard time socialising, but she is super chatty to those who have managed to befriend the Redhead

Brooke feels alot for other people, sympathy, unless you've wronged her. Then some sort of pity and hatred have made way instead of her sympathy for you, and trust me you don't want be on the receiving end of it

Elizabeth is a very open and chatty person, she loves interacting with others and uplifting them

Darren cares so much more than he let's on. This is because his family has told him that certain emotions show weakness, thus why only the people close to him know the true Darren

Orla is a fighter, she fights for what she thinks is right, either verbally or physically, she doesn't care.

👯‍♀️: friendship

Keira doesn't have many friends, but those she has she loves with her whole heart, she can not imagine if something bad would happen to them what she would do without them

Even though Brooke is a social butterfly, she has few people people actually considers friends, and she always lights up when she sees them approaching her

Elizabeth tends to take her friends to her house over the breaks when she knows they don't like going back to their parents, or have no one to go back to. It's a big farm and she introduces them to the animals

Darren let's very few close to him, if you're one of them you can definitely consider yourself lucky

Orla tends to subconsciously adjust her mood for the better whenever one of her friends is feeling down, allowing the better mood to affect her friends and help them cheer up

💄:appearance

The only thing Keira likes about herself is her hair, she is very insecure about everything else

Brooke has more scars than people know of since majority of them are covered by her clothing

Elizabeth contemplates dyeing her hair atleast three times a week, she never goes trough with the plans

Darren has cold grey eyes which scare alot of people away, he tends to use that fact to his advantage sometimes

Orla wears alot of clothing that covers her body, she just doesn't like revealing clothes too much

⌛: Alternative Universe

For Brooke, Keira and Elizabeth it would be a modern day college au, Brooke and Elizabeth are on the sports team and Keira is just your basic nerdy girl who so happens to know the most popular people

For Darren it would be an au where he joins Grindelwald, although this ends with him dying at the hands of Theseus Scamander, his Co worker and close friend

For Orla I have an evil au where, instead of trying to avoid her emotion manipulation, she uses it to her advantage and gets what she wants

[bauslut]

ii. what makes a man?

pairing: aaron hotchner x rowan rivers

word count: 3.840k

warnings: canon typical violence -- blood, gore, mentions of murder, discussion of murder, discussion of weapons, cursing, trauma, dealing with trauma, death of children

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“here you are,” jj bore a kind smile as she slid a manila folder towards the brunette, “here’s your official welcome to the bau. i’m sorry it wasn’t on more.. positive terms.”

“oh,.it’s quite all right,” rowan’s eyes widened, “this is what we’re here--”

“she’s sitting in my spot,” rossi chuckled, “but i don’t mind.”

“are you sure?” rowan stammered, a rosy blush painting her cheeks, “i-i can get up and move--”

“don’t sweat it,” rossi nodded curtly, “there are plenty of open seats.”

“hey baby girl,” a wide, jovial, grin painted morgan’s lips as a woman entered the room, her blonde locks intricately woven into an up-do, “don’t you look delicious today?”

“as always,” the woman scrunched her nose, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, “how are you this morning baby-cakes?”

“hey there!” a chirp startled rowan, sounding from her left, “i’m emily, but around here, i’m referred to as prentiss.”

she was met with kind eyes, a warm mocha hue. they were bright, glimmering as they followed every minute movement as rowan studied her features. the woman was gorgeous without a doubt, with full lips and an oblong face. her hair was luscious, parted down the middle, styled into bouncy curls.

“hi,” rowan breathed, sticking out a hand, “i’m rowan riv--”

“i am afraid we do not have time for introductions,” a stern voice echoed through the space, “we are fbi agents, not kindergartners. we can have icebreakers or whatever it is you’re doing on the jet.”

rowan choked back a sharp retort as hotch strode towards a whiteboard, his spine straightened, chest puffed out slightly. sliding into her seat, her hands settled on the armrests, a puff of air exhaling from her lips. she was sandwiched between two seasoned agents, as morgan was munching on a bag of cookies on her left, prentiss sifting through papers to her right.

maybe if she just shut her mouth, she would blend in and he wouldn’t pay any sort of attention to her. which, wasn’t such a bad idea in the moment. the less he focused on her and berated her, the better.

“cookie?” morgan rattled the bag.

“not right now. thank you though,” rowan whispered, lips curving into a small smile.

“i’m about to begin discussing the case,” hotch shot rowan a glare, words barbed with venom, “so listen up.”

he pinned several images on the board, bile rising in rowan’s throat as her focus transitioned to the pictures. prentiss sucked in a shaky breath, while morgan muttered a strand of incoherent sentences.

the images progressively became more grotesque as they spanned across the board. mangled, beaten, and bloodied corpses were presented, the bile approaching the back of her mouth as she realized the age range.

the bodies were children, their jugulars slashed, lacerations and bruises littering their tiny frames.

“there has been a surge of murders in the rural farm town of homer, illinois. in the past week, there have been a total of five. all of the victims were children, with no specific physical attributes,” hotch cleared his throat, “however, all of them bear one aspect in common.”

“they’re all boys,” reid murmured, “from the images it appears as if they’re about ages eleven or twelve.”

“then they are pre-pubescent boys,” rowan’s voice was clear, pairs of eyes falling on her as she spoke, “i’ve seen something like this before, when i was working in columbus. we had a ring of traffickers who preferred this age range.”

“and?” morgan arched a brow, “why pre-pubescent boys?”

“hotch,” rowan nearly trembled as the supervisor’s cold gaze shifted on her, “i-if i may ask, were there any signs of assault or rape?”

“the severity of sexual assault varied on each victim.”

“you said that they have no physical attributes in common but looking at these photos,” reid shook his head slightly, “the brunettes are the only ones who have lacerations covering their entire bodies. the blondes, the only sign of violence demonstrated is the murder itself, the incision along the jugular.”

“could it be that our unsub has something against brunettes?” morgan inquired.

“potentially,” rowan blinked, scanning over the text, “it also says here in the autospies that the only boys who were sexually assaulted were the brunettes. i may be going on a whim here, but i think our unsub is lashing out on the brunettes for a reason. it could be power, dominance, you name it. perhaps the hair color is a stressor, or was the initial stressor. he might be reliving a traumatic event from his childhood.”

rossi whistled, “look at you, rivers. already building a profile and we’ve only met for five minutes.”

“sadly i’ve seen a lot of this before,” rowan let out a sigh, rustling through papers, “it also says here that the bodies were all found at homer lake forest preserve. i have a strong premonition that our unsub is male.”

“and what makes you say that?” hotch countered.

“by the way the bodies were handled,” rowan shrugged, “they were beaten, mutilated, and dragged through the woods. the amount of physical strength to do that is just an inherent trait males have."

“how were the bodies discovered?” jj bit her lip, a trace of fear glimmering in her icy blue depths.

“they were found by a new fisherman every morning around dawn, in the same location. they were located about half a mile from the entrance of the preserve,” hotch tossed the file onto the table, “our unsub is bold.”

“he wanted the bodies to be found,” rossi added, “he’s arrogant.”

“or he’s sloppy,” rowan remarked, “he’s devolving. he could be killing just on that need burning within him, with no remorse or any sort of emotion within him at all--”

“we need to get to homer as soon as possible,” hotch interrupted, glancing at his phone, “it’s ten o’clock in the morning. it’s only a matter of time before another body is found.”

“where’s the closest airport?” jj folded her arms across her chest.

“willard airport in champaign-urbana,” reid piped up, “other than that, the other closest one is in bloomington-normal.”

“and how do you know that?” morgan’s eyes widened.

“champaign-urbana is the home of the university of illinois,” reid swallowed thickly, “i’ve been there a few times. it’s an exceptional school for engineering, truly one of the greatest in the country--”

“all right, all right,” morgan stuck out a hand, “you answered my question.”

“wheels up in thirty,” hotch announced, plucking the file off the shiny wood.

rowan followed the others in suit, filing out of the space. trailing reid, she was the second last to leave the room, hotch right behind her, deep, smooth, voice filling her ears.

“i need to speak with you agent rivers.”

“yes?” she swiveled on her heel, facing the supervisor, folding her arms across her chest.

“i hope you’re aware that i do not tolerate any sort of childlike behavior. we’re not teenagers reuniting on the first day of class. i did not appreciate the interruptions in my conference room. you can socialize on your own time.”

“you’ve never once interrupted anything in your entire life? wow, you really must be mr. perfect. i mean look at you, all put together. i doubt you’ve even done anything wrong in your life you’re so per--”

“you realize you’re speaking to your boss with this tone, right?”

“i don’t fucking care,” tears brimmed rowan’s eyes, “this is my first day and it’s even worse than i could have ever imagined.”

“excuse me?”

“you’ve really made sure i’ve had a warm welcome to the bau, mr. perfect,” rowan scoffed, rolling her eyes, “it’s been an amazing first day, i’ll tell you that.”

for just a moment, hotch’s tough exterior cracked, a flicker of sympathy flashing in his gaze, “i’m sorry.”

“‘i’m sorry’?”

hotch paused, inhaling a deep breath, “i was going to write you up. however, i may have been a little too harsh on you. after all, this is your first day. strauss put in a good word for you, and i want to see your skill set out in the field. come on, we’re going to be left behind.”

******

“gotta love the midwest,” morgan placed his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling.

“you love it?” reid’s lips curled in disgust, “it smells like manure.”

“it smells like home,” rowan giggled, shouldering her way through the men, ��c’mon, let’s go.”

“well she’s eager,” rossi chuckled, turning to hotch, “where are we setting up?”

“there’s the local p.d. in homer,” hotch slung his bag over his shoulder, “the station is only about four miles from the forest preserve.”

“i was doing some reading on the village of homer,” reid stated, “there’s only about one thousand people who live there. it’s such a tiny place, and as hotch mentioned, it’s only four miles from the preserve, surely the unsub lives there.”

“or he lives close to the lake,” rowan pointed out, “there are so many homes out there surrounding the lake in the countryside. with these rural communities, your neighbors could be a mile down the road, or miles away. it gives him the perfect opportunity to make frequent trips to the lake without being noticed.”

“you make a good point rivers,” hotch remarked, “we’ll have to keep that in mind when we investigate the lake and the surrounding woods.”

“this murder isn’t going to solve itself,” rossi cleared his throat, nodding his head towards the cluster of suvs, “we need to get to the police department and we’re losing time.”

stepping into the vehicle, rowan slid into the back seats, figuring that hotch would take the wheel, while rossi would sit shotgun. yet, curiosity buzzed in her mind as rossi took the wheel, while reid settled into the passenger seat.

“you’ve got to be shitting me,” she muttered as hotch thrust open the door, “rossi, are you usually the one who drives?”

“typically, no,” in the rearview mirror, rowan snorted when she noticed the shit-eating grin plastered on the agent’s face, “but i figured that you and hotch would love to get to know one another on the way there.”

“can i pick the station?” reid bounced in the seat, hands flying to the knobs and levers.

“pick something good, find an oldies station or something. maybe they’ll play back in black,” within seconds, the suburban was in motion, rossi revving the engine, “i plan on racing morgan, jj, and prentiss to the station. whoever loses has to buy dinner.”

“this is ridiculous,” hotch rolled his eyes, the vibration of his phone piquing rowan’s curiosity.

“by the way,” reid turned in his seat, facing hotch, “who’s been calling you so frequently today?”

“haley,” rowan tilted her head as the name spat from hotch’s mouth, “it’s not important.”

haley. from the sound of it, she was hotch’s significant other, girlfriend, fiancee, even a spouse, maybe. rowan’s eyes drifted downwards to his lap, where his hands rested on his knees. in the light, a golden band gleamed on his left ring finger.

so, hotch was married. he had a wife.

but there was something in his tone that was unsettling. were they fighting? having the typical lover’s quarrel? maybe that’s why hotch was so distant and cruel, he was constantly dealing with his marriage.

“so tell us a little about you, rowan,” rossi was far ahead of the other suburban, shades resting on the bridge of his nose, “i never got an icebreaker.”

rowan scoffed, fidgeting in the leather seat, “there’s not anything too riveting, i can spare you guys the details.”

in the corner of her eye, rowan felt his eyes pierce through her, digging deeps within the confines of her psyche. he was profiling her, desperate to get some sort of read. perhaps he was well aware of how uncomfortable she was by rossi’s query. the way her palms were slick against her pants, sweat prints clinging to the fabric. the way her cheeks were tainted pink, her jaw tightened, throat dry.

“didn’t you go to ohio state for undergrad?” reid licked his thumb, scouring through some novel or book.

“yeah,” she nodded, “i’m from a tiny town in ohio, called tiffin. i went to ohio state for an undergrad in psychology, along with a few minors in criminal justice, linguistics, spanish, so on. i stayed there for grad school since i loved the city, and the university. from there, the bureau picked me up from the academy, and i was thrown into the infamous case.”

“the child sex-trafficking bust,” hotch murmured, “i remember glancing over that in your file.”

“how long did that case go on?” rossi turned the radio dial, lowering the volume.

“longer than it should’ve been,” rowan brought a hand to her temple, a dull pain seeping into her skull, “hey, does anyone have ibuprofen?”

hotch’s eyes softened, concern painting his features, “i think i have some in my briefcase. hang on.”

rowan brought a bottle of water to her lips, sipping as hotch placed a couple of pills in her open palm. as he set them in her hand, skin grazed skin, her heart skipping a beat.

for someone as rough and callused as hotch, his hands were so utterly soft.

“thank you,” she whispered, “i appreciate it.”

“of course,” he murmured, “do you usually get frequent headaches?”

“yeah,” rowan admitted, a new wave of blush spreading, “i’m just prone to them i guess.”

“the humidity is also high today,” reid remarked, “and from the way the wind just picked up, along with the darkness of the clouds, i think it’s going to storm. your headache could be from the low pressure.”

“fantastic,” rowan threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut, “you know reid, that’s kinda a myth.”

“actually research has been inconclusive.”

“how many did you take?” hotch nudged rowan, inflections of concern within his inquisition.

“six.”

“jesus christ,” rossi’s lips pursed, “are you trying to kill your liver?”

“we’ll see about that,” a giggle bubbled up in rowan’s throat.

as the suburban sailed down the interstate, her lashes fluttered, sleep threatening to pull her into its clutches. she blinked, rubbing soothing circles onto her temple, lips falling to a frown as a dull pain seeped into her forehead.

biting her lip, she fought back tears, inhaling a shaky breath. this was no place to show any weakness.

not with him around.

*****

“good afternoon, chief sellers. i’m supervisory special agent hotchner with the fbi,” hotch stated, his voice ringing with authority as he shook an officer’s hand, “and these are my colleagues.”

“thank god you’re here,” the officer’s voice was hoarse, wavering as he spoke, “it’s been a living nightmare these past few days.”

“i can only imagine,” jj murmured under her breath, “there’s someone out there killing little boys.”

“he looks so shaken up,” prentiss exhaled, folding her arms across her chest.

“we had most of the state p.d. flock out here once the second body was discovered,” chief sellers cleared his throat, his focus directed on hotch, “we’re all doing the best we can, but of course, as other duties call, we tend to be short-handed at times.”

“we’re going to do everything in our power to help,” rossi’s words were warm, brimmed with sincerity, “we’ll catch this guy, i promise.”

“and we’ll help you all in every way we can,” chief sellers nodded curtly, “anything you folks need, let us know.”

“should we start by heading out to the crime scene?” hotch inquired, “it might also be best to split some of us up.”

“of course,” chief sellers strode over to a pair of state officers, “these men will escort you to the scene. what else do you need?”

hotch’s eyes flickered over to his team, “i want morgan, reid, and rossi to go investigate the scene. prentiss and jj, would you speak with some of the locals? we need to gather as much information as possible in order to rule out anyone or gain essential details about our unsub.”

“what about me?” rowan coughed.

“you’re staying with me here at the station,” he commanded, “and you’re going to answer every phone call we get from garcia.”

“good luck newbie,” rowan rolled her eyes as morgan teased her, his breath hot against her ear.

“you might want to listen to morgan,” rossi shot her a wink, “you’re going to need it.”

“thanks,” the reply was a deadpan, the agent’s shoulders slumping as hotch approached her, “putting me on a short leash, are we?”

“you’re the one who understands the profile of our unsub the best,” he retorted, “and before you fire back with another verbal assault, think before you speak. this is your big girl job now. act like it.”

“don’t you think it’s interesting that the unsub stopped killing?” hotch murmured a few words of gratitude to an officer who handed him a coffee, cocking his head as he took a sip.

“do you think that there’s a reason behind that?”

“possibly,” rowan shrugged, denying the same styrofoam cup, “hey, where’s the closest gas station?”

“about half a mile away,” the officer replied coolly, “would you like a ride? a few of the guys and i are going to pick up pizzas for lunch.”

“i’m okay,” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “thank you, though.’

“you don’t like hot coffee?”

“i prefer iced,” the agent muttered, surveying the empty desks, “i assume they cleared some space for us?”

“indeed,” hotch huffed, “if your phone rings, assume it’s garcia.”

“i feel like i’m at columbus p.d. all over again,” the brunette slid into the seat, rolling a few inches as she plucked the file out of her briefcase.

“well this is nowhere near that,” hotch rolled his eyes, leaning against the wooden surface.

“well it sure feels like it,” his throat tightened as her eyes drifted upwards, locking with his, “it sure fucking feels like it. now, if you don’t mind, i’m going to look over the file.”

“would you like some company, agent rivers?”

“i’m sure you have ‘unit chief’ matters to tend to,” the words were barbed, hot and venomous as she spat them out, “hovering around your new recruit like she’s some child is quite ridiculous don’t you think?”

“i should have you turn in your badge right now.”

“you seem like you’re all bark and no bite. you scolded me only only hours ago about the conference room, threatening to write me up. that tough exterior of yours is only an act. or at least, i think it is. you’re not going to write me up until you have a valid reason to. also, like you claimed earlier, ‘strauss put in a good word for me.’ i know you won’t terminate me. plus, you just went through all of that paperwork to get me here. do you really want to go through all of that again?”

“you piss me off.”

“good,” she puckered her lips, “maybe you should chat about that with strauss hmm? she’d probably just tell you to suck it up and that i’m here to stay.”

hotch’s jaw clenched, prepared to retaliate, yet the vibration in his pocket distracted him momentarily, the shrill ringtone piercing through the air, “yes?”

biting her tongue, rowan glanced back at the file, bringing her hand to her cheek. part of her was wailing, screaming and kicking, fighting the urge to study those horrid images. but the other part was driven, adrenaline coursing through her veins, pumping into her body.

even the slightest detail that she hadn’t noticed initially would be immensely helpful to building the profile, piecing together who this deranged individual was. flipping through the photos, rowan’s eyes narrowed.

although the team held a short briefing before departing from headquarters, there was one minor aspect about the way the bodies were laying in the shrubbery. the boys were all on their backs, dried blood coating sliced flesh. not a single article of clothing framed their bodies, just the thin layer of briefs or boxers.

her heart lurched as one arm was pressed tightly against their sides, while the other was raised. right hands pointed upwards, three fingers: the index, middle, and ring. yet, the pinky connected with the thumb, almost as if the children were purposely holding up three fingers.

“garcia called with an update,” his voice floated into her ears, “with the bits and pieces fed to her from jj and prentiss, we still have a lot of ground to cover. are you up for a drive?”

“wait,” rowan held up a hand, “hotch, were you ever a member of the boy scouts?”

his brow furrowed, confusion settling across his features, “what?”

“just look,” she huffed, gesturing to the images, “look at the way the unsub left their bodies. it’s a clear message, almost like how he dumped the bodies in clear sight. his arrogance blinded him, goading him to taunt us. but little did he know i would see right through his bluff. i think he stopped the killing spree because he knew we’d be looking for him. it’s like he wants us to find him.”

leaning over, hotch’s chest hovered above her shoulder blade, a hand settling on the desk. the ghost of his badge hung over her cheek, a speck of white in her peripheral vision. a hum rose in his throat, “you’re onto something here. let me call garcia.”

“did i make a break in the case?”

“perhaps, but don’t let that get to your head,” the supervisor brought his phone to his ear, “hey, garcia, i need you to run something for me. how many boy scout troops are in champaign county?”

*****

“you up for some drinks tonight?” prentiss giggled, wrapping her jacket around her shoulders, “it’s all on me, especially since we should be celebrating your first case with the bau!”

“i’m fine,but thank you,” rowan beamed, “i still have a forty minute drive ahead of me. i shouldn’t stay out too late.”

“oh come on,” jj groaned, “we won’t be out for long. just a couple rounds.”

“pleaseeee?” garcia practically pranced over to rowan, jutting her bottom lip out, “we don’t know a single thing about you. hotch had you under his watch all day.”

“okay,” she exhaled, “a few drinks, and then i need to get to my apartment. i’ve barely finished unpacking so i’ll have to rummage for my towels and pajamas when i get back.”

“you have an apartment?” prentiss queried, “do you have a roommate or do you live alone? did you bring a boyfriend with you, by chance?”

rowan blinked, “uh, no. i live alone.”

“good thing you’re a fbi agent huh?” garcia winked, “c’mon, we know the perfect bar.”

“maybe we’ll get you loosened up and you can spill some secrets,” jj chuckled, the sound airy and light.

“sometimes,” rowan felt the corner of her lips tug into a wide grin, “sometimes i truly wonder what i’m getting myself into working with all these other profilers.”

*****

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