#please some help. this is going to take 12 hours otherwise

[mcrowann]

IT'S DONE. Good Omens in Chronological Order is finished!

now i just need to watch it all through. If you would like to help (and speed up the process) by watching and checking some of it go to this post to read the full details. Annoyingly you need to have premier pro because it was easiest for me to do it on. If you want you can request to watch through a specific hour or so ie. All of Bildad the Shuhite Land of Uz or all of season 1 saturday if you're a masochist.

Thank you for your time :)

[writingmysanity]

New Favorites

pairing: sanji x fem!baker

Prompt: Red

word count: 1924

TW: mentions of getting drunk, drinking, kisses. This is Fluff -- as requested @stray-kaz making the love cook happy! sorry meant to post this this morning (almost 12 hours ago) but our hot water heater went out and ended up having to boil water to get clean and between the process and the warmth of the bath... took most of the day (including my taking an impromptu nap afterwards) but please, have this unbeta'd first edition to the #rainbowdrabblechallenge <3 I hope you like it. this is yet another continuation of my series of one shots and commit to the bit for Sanji and his baker! i love them your honor.

========

Giggles echo harshly outside of the kitchen, bouncing off the walls and resting at Sanji’s feet well before you actually come stumbling through the door. He pauses in his cleaning to watch you, your eyes flickering around the kitchen in confusion until they fall on him, a large smile crossing your face. The sight is enough to cause a painful thump in his chest as a smile of his own eases onto his face. 

“Hello, sweetheart.” he hums, straightening from where he had been scrubbing at something, another scuff on his otherwise pristine floors – but what is he to expect with the likes of pirates around? 

Another giggle escapes you as you stumble further in, your eyes never leaving his. The action nearly earns your face to his floors as you catch yourself on the table. His hands linger in the air where he had lurched forward to catch you had you fallen. 

“I should sit,” you sing, slumping into the seat beside you. 

“You should” he agrees, eyes softening over your drunken form as you lean back to take another drink from the bottle. “Have you been drinking with zoro?” he inquires, leaning against the countertop, watching you. You hum in agreement, earning a scoff from the tall cook. 

“That was a bad idea,” he sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You shrug with a sloppy grin. 

“Maybe!” you nearly shout, but, catching his wince, lower your voice considerably. “But the wine you got was too delicious. And then I thought of you… so I had to see you.” you state as a matter of factly, nodding firmly. You groan at the action, your vision swimming around you – his brilliant eyes the focus. 

He chuckles.

“You’re drunk,” he can't help his smile. You sought him out while you were drunk, and for some reason, that felt like an accomplishment. 

you don't pay his comment any attention as you lean forward on the table, eyes zeroed in on him, resting your head on your hand. 

“Goodness, you're gorgeous.” you murmur, meaning to speak more to yourself. Unfortunately, you might as well have screamed it, your voice echoing perfectly back to the blond man who had begun trying to scrub at the dishes in the sink. He pauses again, quickly coming to the conclusion that he won't be able to get any work done with you like this. 

“You’re really drunk,” he comments with an exasperated sigh, hands stilling in the water. You nod with a sheepish grin. 

“Sure,” you slur. “But you're still hot.” 

His movements are slow, well aware of your eyes on him as he dries his hands before stepping over to you. Your smile seems to grow the closer he gets, the unbridled excitement in your eyes earning another painful thump in his chest. That smile drops when he leans for the bottle of wine. 

“Last drinks, pretty girl,” he hums as you try to tug the bottle away from him. You whine, eyeing it. 

“But it's good.” he nods, trying to keep from laughing at you outright. It may not be taken well with you being so far gone. 

“That is why I bought it,” he agrees. When you continue to pull it away from him, he sighs, settling into the chair across from you. “Can I have a drink?” he asks, hand outstretched. He is shocked when he finds it in his grasp moments later, your drunken giggles settling around him again. 

“You’re going to drink with me,” you sing, elongating several of the words drunkenly. He swirls the bottle in his hand, noting how light it already is. There are perhaps only a few drinks left in it. With a shrug, he tips the bottle back, swallowing the rest. The weight of your gaze causes the heat to rise up his neck as he gives you a sweet smile. 

“Not much to drink, love.” he states. “We should get you to bed.” you shake your head quickly, fumbling forward as you reach for his hand. He lets you take it, palm resting upwards so that he can wrap his fingers around yours – an anchor as your head sloshes like the sea fumbling along the shore line not too far away. 

“But I just got here,” you whine, looking up at him pleadingly. “Play a game with me?” you request sweetly, jutting your bottom lip out in a pout. He sighs, setting the bottle off to the side, nodding. 

“What game?”

“20 questions!” he snorts, shaking his head. 

“Fine,” he agrees. “Who goes first?” you tap your chin slowly, the movements clumsy and over dramatic as you pretend to think. 

“You.” 

“What is your favorite color?” he asks plainly, motioning for you to answer as your nose scrunches, a pitiful frown twisting your face for a moment. 

“Awe,” you grouch. “You’re no fun!” The implication that you were hoping for something more, either naughty or personal, does not escape his attention. Though neither of those things are good options with how far gone you are. 

He is sure you won't even remember this come morning. 

“Just answer the question,” he hums, offering you a smile. You pause, staring up at him, eyes softened with wonder as you watch the ocean in his eyes, the way the waves seem to calm as he smiles. The gentle sloshing of the ship resting in the harbor doesn't help as you tip back and forth, clutching his hand like the lifeline it is. 

“Blue,” you hum, laying your head on your arm that is outstretched for his hand. He softens, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear gently.

“Your turn,” his voice is soft, slow. Sighing contently, you shift your head to rest your chin on your arm instead, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“Favorite color,” you grumble, hiding your smile. He snorts. 

“Ah, no fun,” he mimics, eyes sparkling in the low light of the moonlight glittering through the galley window behind you. He goes to answer, his mouth open to speak when you perk up quickly, jerking back. With your hold on his hand, you jerk him forward slightly in your excitement. 

“Can I guess?” he pauses before nodding, head tilting to the side, smile stretching in amusement. 

“Sure, sweetheart. Give it a go.” there isn't a moment's hesitation as you bounce up onto your knees to get closer to him, tugging him down to you until you are nose to nose. 

“Red,” you state as a matter of factly. 

=====

Since that night, Sanji has not been able to see the color the same. He sees it in everything, and in it, he sees you. 

He could live in it, now. 

“What do you think?” you call out to the cook, catching his attention from the gourds he had been staring at for what seems like forever. Blinking quickly, he refocuses on you, a broad smile tugging at his lips as he steps closer to you. 

“Perfect,” he breathes, rubbing the crimson fabric between his fingers, delighting in how your cheeks seem to warm, darkening to nearly the same color. Clearing your throat, you turn back to the vendor with your Berry as she laughs quietly at the exchange. 

“Thank you,” you smile, trying to ignore the way your cheeks seem to warm further when his fingers brush yours. His fingers wrap lightly around your finger tips, tugging them lightly to lead you away from the stall. 

“Come, love,” he grins, his voice a rumble in your ear. “I can hardly wait to see you in that.” he looks pointedly at the dress hanging limply over your arm. 

======

“Where did you bring these from, again?” you ask from the kitchen as Sanji goes to lock the door for the night. You can hear the clipped sound of the open sign being flipped followed by the click of his heels as he makes his way back to you. 

“Island in the south seas,” he hums, settling in behind you with a smile, his hands resting on either side of you. 

Smiling brightly, you turn in his arms to look up at him, a large vibrant strawberry in hand. 

“They're perfect,” you giggle, lips stained red from the last one you ate. He swallows a bit before forcing a teasing smile to his lips. 

“I brought them thinking you could bake something with them,” he grouses playfully. You laugh, tapping the strawberry to your lips.

“Have you tasted them?” he shakes his head. 

“I did well to keep their existence hidden from the crew,” he huffs. “Mainly Luffy.” grinning up at him, you take a bite of the strawberry, your eyes never straying from his. Your eyes flutter closed with a sigh, tongue darting out to catch the juice threatening to slip past your lips. 

“Would you like to?” you hum, looking up at him through your lashes, the strawberry resting in the open between you. His breath shakes as he presses closer, fingers tugging your chin towards him. 

“Yes,” he breathes desperately. 

=======

The evening has been calm, both of you settling into the familiar rhythm you've created every time Sanji is able to drift to your shores. He grabs the basket he put together, topped by the blanket he had insisted on buying at the market the other day. 

“Red?” you question, fiddling with the edges. He just smiles, shrugging. 

“It’s my favorite color.” he insists gently. 

Beaming up at him, you link your arm with his when prompted. His visit had been peaceful, no need to duck and hide from various marine patrols as you would usually have to. Their ships have yet to dock for the month, and Sanji plans to be gone by the time they do. 

“You’re in your thoughts again,” he states, calling your name gently, poking your cheek as you shift on the blanket. Blinking quickly, you turn to face him, smiling softly. He is laying out on the blanket beside you, one arm resting behind his head watching the sea without a care in the world. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, shifting to grab a snack from the basket. He shakes his head, turning his gaze back to you. 

“What is bothering you?” he asks gently, tugging your hand, imploring you to not bottle it up, to share your burdens. 

There is a pause as you stare at the blanket, picking at it before lifting your eyes to meet his again, smiling sadly. 

“The marines will dock again in a few days' time.” he nods slowly, knowing where this is going. 

“Indeed they will,” he agrees, bringing your hand to him, brushing his lips along the knuckles. “Will I lose what little time I have with you to the thought of my leaving?” he asks gently, frown twitching at his lips. 

Humming in thought, you set the sandwich down as you shift to settle over him, your back to the ocean. He stares up at you in open appreciation, one hand coming to rest on your hip as you lean forward before you start to pepper kisses all over his face – his cheeks, nose and forehead before hovering over his lips, admiring the brilliant crimson marks littering his skin. 

The red he had picked for you two trips ago, and his favorite. You grin to yourself, noting how the red brightens his already brilliant blue eyes, making them pop. 

Red may not be your favorite color, but it is a close second. 

“No,” you answer him, leaning down to kiss him properly.

======

tag list:

@stray-kaz @fanaticsnail @sordidmusings @rainbowpitofdoom @gingernut1314 @short-honey-badger

[honoviadakai]

Rating the Hazbin crew based on how well they’ll take care of you when you’re sick 🤒

Charlie🎶🏨:

8/10

So letting Charlie know you’re sick might actually be a bigger health concern for her than it is for you

She’s gonna act like you’re dying

She legitimately might make Razzle and Dazzle plan for a funeral

You are now gonna be on house arrest

No

Scratch that

You’re on bed arrest!

No getting up under any circumstances! 😤

She’s wait on you hand and foot till you’re 1000% better

She’s gonna be overbearing but in her defense, she REALLY doesn’t want you to suffer/die so please just bare with her

She just wants you to recover asap ;3;

Vaggie🗡️🦋:

7/10

Ok so on one hand…her chicken soup is pretty good

On the other hand…she’s a very “tough love” kinda gal to anyone who isn’t named Charlie Morningstar

It dose not help that she’s canonically Latina…

All my fellow Latinos know, if you get sick…you get the vaporub

And that is probably something Vaggie still firmly believes in

“Just rub some raporub on your chest and nose and walk it off, you’ll be good in no time!”

Said every Latino parent in history….

She’s probably never had to take care of many sick people in her human life, let alone her afterlife in hell

Cut her a bit of slack and just use the vaporub, she’s trying damn it!

Alastor🦌📻:

-12/10

N O

WHY WOULD YOU EVER COME TO THIS MAN FOR MEDICAL HELP!?!

Do you have a death wish or something!?

Best case scenario, he’ll help you but your soul is gonna be on the line for a while!

Worst case scenario, he’s just gonna let you suffer

And I don’t mean that he’s just gonna leave you to sleep in your room

No no no, that too boring

He’s gonna make sure no one else in the hotel knows of your predicament and he’s gonna watch you struggle and laugh at your misery…

For the love of all that is good in the universe…don’t let him know you’re sick…ever.

Angel Dust🕷️💕:

6/10

Ok

Listen…he’s not the worst option….but you do have better options

The problem asking Angel to help you when you’re sick is that you’re sick…

You’re gross…he doesn’t want not on his fluff

But if y’all are very close…

Like besties or lovers? That changes the game

He’ll cuddle you, no questions asked

So it really depends on who you are to him how much effort he’s gonna put in

He’s also kinda forgetful

For example, if you ask him for a cup of tea, he’ll absolutely go brew a cup for you

But you better pray that nothing and no one distracts him!

Cuz otherwise just forget about having hot tea or tea in general…

He’s pretty shit at remembering to take medication at certain times too so I’d set multiple reminders

Even then…might not help much…

He is a pretty good cook though so rest assured, you will be very well fed during your recovery period

Husk🐈‍⬛🥃:

10/10

Will this crusty old man complain about having to help you? Yes.

Will he bitch and moan every time you ask him for another cup of tea? Absolutely.

Will he curse under his breath while holding your hair back as you puke your brains out for the 10th time in the past 24 hours? Without question.

But he’s still fucking helping you

He can say whatever the hell he wants, he’s waiting on you hand and foot till you’re better of his own volition

He’s out here making some of the best damn soup you’ve ever had he’s gonna make sure you finish every last spoonful god damn it!

If you gotta take medication on a schedule, best believe he’s setting multiple timers

You’re also taking all the naps you need, no arguments! 😤

If you ask, he will cuddle you, but he will make you swear on your mother’s grave that you won’t tell a soul he did that for you

He’d rather chop his arms off than admit this, but he is genuinely worried for you and just wants you to recover

You did not hear that from me though 🤐

Niffty🪡🐞:

5/10

Oh she makes some of the best soup! 🥣

Her home cooked meals are delicious

Honestly the best part of having Niffty taking care of you is just how well fed you’re gonna be 🥰

But this is Nifty we’re talking about…

So she’s gonna be….Nifty….

She’s gonna hover uncomfortably close to the bed while you rest…

Just…watching you…

She’s not even trying to be creepy or anything

She’s just making sure you’re ok

But like…she’s starting a little too intensely at you…not blinking even once…

She’s just waiting to see if you want tea or something tbh

She just forgot you’re supposed to blink

She’ll also just watch you sleep

Not sure why…she just does

If she’s feeling ✨spicy✨…she miiight give you some questionable medicine…

Like, medicine she found in Alastor’s room….

Please get an actual doctor 🙏

Sir Pentious🐍🥚:

2/10

No

Just…no

Get an actual doctor

Please!

He means well

He really does!

But this man died in the Victorian era!

Don’t let a man with medical knowledge form the Victorian era help you!

He will use leeches on you!

And that’s the best case scenario for you!

And for the love of all that is good in the world, do NOT let the egg boys help!

They all share a brain cell between them and I don’t think any of them is ever fully away of where it is at any given moment

They’re likely to take one look at you and think the best way to reduce your fever is to stick you in an ice bath…for hours….

Go to an actual doctor if you wanna keep your ability to breathe. Please.🙏

[bubblergoespop]

justifying why i should be the porter fan ♥︎

@plaqying AH THIS IS SO FUN thank you so much for starting this ilysm

oh my days i’m gonna take this way too seriously and this post is gonna become way too long please vote for me guys

1. okay first of all i’ve been obsessed with porter ever since he was first mentioned by name in the 2023 channelversary livestream at 1:58:41. you can literally see a comment on that livestream from me where i’m talking about it

2. porters symbol alone is cute to me like look at those lil pointy things and AUGH they look like fangs too bc he’s a vampy vamp

3. the man is a brit just like me, we’re literally MEANT TO BEEE and anyone who says otherwise is, as porter would say, a twat x

4. yknow that quotes thingy i do, under the hashtag #bubbler’s top quotes? well, porter was the first character that i did for it, i was literally inspired by porter to do it hehehe

5. i barely post about him on tumblr tbh, and that’s not the only way for one to show their love for a character, but here are some of my posts about him hehe:

6. honestly, just ask roachie (@mokozroach). she knows how much i obsess over the man. here’s some of my messages to her, some are a little NSFW:

7. i have a whole note in my phone dedicated to the man, where i put quotes, lore details, random facts etc etc. here’s photo evidence:

8. the amount of times i’ve watched any audio with him in has given me the ability to recite them perfectly from memory (yes that includes the summit audios where he’s not even the main focus for most of it)

9. thinking about someone else winning this genuinely makes me want to cry but it’s okay i swear if someone else wins i won’t go crazy i promise why would i go crazy i’m completely normal about porter solaire

10. honestly just this post like i can’t help but be dedicated to my man

11. porter is more than just attractive to me, he’s also INCREDIBLY FASCINATING. i could talk about him for hours and the only reason i don’t is because i don’t want to ruin people’s perceptions of me. i think this post might do that but oh well.

12. whenever erik mentions porter in any video in any form, i get flutterbies (butterflies) in my stomach. he just makes me so giddy ehhehehe

13. if i could choose between making porter solaire real and becoming a billionaire, i would choose the former. and that says a lot bc who doesn’t love money???

14. i’m an obsessed tier patron and i chose milo rebane’s card during the fooliverse month just because i hoped porter rebane would be mentioned.

15. i love men in pain. porter is a man who loves pain. another reason we are meant to be.

okay i’m sorry you had to read all this, i am gonna try to restrain myself now and stop talking about porter solairemmemfmfmfmgmgmg. if someone else wins, good for them, but i’ll never accept the idea that someone could love porter more than me.

[plantingatree]

Tips on how to ace exams ??

hii i hope the exams coming up for you go well!! here are my fav things to do to ace exams!! 🩷

1. if you need to memorise lots of content, use anki. anki is a computer software or website you can use to create flashcards. it automatically reschedules them for you so you can review them every day using spaced repetition. make sure you review the ‘due’ cards everyday (especially if you’re cramming) because otherwise the content to go over again will quickly build up and feel overwhelming.

2. if there’s math involved in your studying, do as many questions as you can. take pictures of questions that you get wrong and go over them again in a few days or weeks time (depending on how much time you have) to ensure you’ve learned from your mistakes and still remember what to do. there’s never enough questions you can do, the more you can get done, the better.

3. if you have access to past paper questions, do them alongside learning the content. exam technique is a whole new skill altogether that is super important to learn in order to ace the exams. a lot of certain exams also reuse the same questions / word them in a similar way so it also helps with memorisation and getting use to the style of questions and how to answer them.

4. Remember that although it’s stressful studying and anticipating these exams, it’s a temporary feeling. stress can be good to get you motivated but sometimes an overwhelming amount of stress can make it too difficult to study. take a deep breath, take it slow, and start again.

5. make sure you understand the content while learning it, too. i like to make mind maps that are similar to the flashcards so i can grasp the concept of the topic while also memorising it. some people rely entirely on exams being almost like ‘memory tests’ but they also examine your understanding of the topic, too.

6. get into a routine. wake up at a certain time, work at a certain time, take breaks at a certain time, and go to sleep at a certain time. keep these times consistent and make them into a habit like the way you make showering or brushing your teeth a habit. and remember the breaks you take are AS important as the revision. if you take no breaks you’re going to burn yourself out completely.

here are some timetables i like to use:

8:00-10:30

11:30-1:30

2:30-5:30

7:30-9:30

that’s 8 hours of revision with sufficient breaks.

or:

8:00-10:30

11:00-1:30

2:00-4:30

that’s 7.5 hours of revision but with smaller breaks, but you finish much earlier.

or:

10-12

2-4

5-7

thats 6 hours of revision with good breaks.

7. get good sleep, please. if you get bad sleep you’ll be too tired the next day and trust me that will mess EVERYTHING UP.

8. when learning flashcards, i like to read it three times, and then press ‘again’ (when using anki, or if you’re using paper flashcards, put it to the back of the pile). when it comes back up, i try to recall it. if i don’t get it right, i read it 3 times again, and then scribble it down on some paper — then press ‘again’.

10. use forest (or flora, the free version) forest is an app where you can grow pretend trees and ‘plant’ your own garden depending on how much you revision you do. if you end your timer before it ends, or go on a different app, it kills your tree! the more revision you do, the more coins you get and you can buy different types of trees. (message me if you get forest and you can add me! not flora tho, i don’t use that one)

i hope this helped!!!! good luck!!! 😁😁😁😁

[rose-pearls]

Watching you go - Part 4

Summary: Chariot rides awaits and multiple conversations take place.

Previous part - Next Part

The wax hurts as they do it for the hundred time that day. The prep team had been complaining about how hairy you were but you couldn’t focus on it, you were too busy thinking about everything that had been told in the train.

They seem to have taken every single hair of your body as one of them tells you that your stylist will be arriving soon and to just stay put. You don’t know what you should be expecting, last year they had fire how could you top that. 

A young woman enters the room, she smiles shily, her long blond hair has pink woven through it and she has a few piercings but it’s the least make up you’ve seen on someone in the last hour.

“Hi, I’m Delia.”, she tells you and comes to shake your hand. You get ready to answer her back, but she just shakes her head kindly.

“I already know who you are, did a background check before I made the clothes.”

“That’s pretty smart.”, you can’t help but say as you get the robe closer to you.

“But please tell me a bit more about yourself.”, she says quickly, maybe she thought you had taken it badly.

“I was raised in district 12, raised in the butcher shop and otherwise nothing special.”, just the fact that Haymitch is apparently your father or that Peeta is your boyfriend but here he is seen as Katniss’s. 

“What about you?”, you ask her, and she smiles while taking a chair not far from her.

“I just graduated fashion school and here I am, first year into clothing tributes.”, you can’t help but smile at her excitement, even if it is for such things.

“Well, can’t wait to see what you have planned.”, you tell her, and she smiles widely at your words while opening a big portfolio.

“So, as you know last year was all about flames but what about what makes it so flammable. Plus, something that relates to district twelve. Coal.”, she says to you as if it was the most breakthrough idea she ever had and you start to feel scared, hopefully you weren’t going to end up in a coal pack.

“Now I took my ideas from there but made the clothes more wearable and something that would catch the eyes. I did a short black dress with gold lining woven on it and a top part for on your shoulder that will be like a cloak.”, she shows you the design and you can’t help but be impressed by it, it looked beautiful.

“It’s beautiful.”, you can’t help but whisper and she look extremely happy at your words.

“Glad you like it! Now let’s get you ready.”, the two of you talk through the entire two hours and you can’t help but feel less stressed than you did before.

The walk down the hallway to where the chariots are feels like a maze and like it takes forever to get there but once you are in front of the door you suddenly feel like you want to go back.

“It’s nerve-racking right?”, you turn around towards a sympathetic Delia and nod slowly.

“One thing I always learned was let the close do the talking, but you are the one that is wearing them so show them who you are through the clothes.”, you try to get all of that in your head, but it seemed like a bunch of words that you couldn’t understand.

“Shoulder back, head high and show them who you are.”, the door opens, and you know you have no choice but to hope that Effie’s high heels training will work. 

The room is turned into whispers as you enter it, but you ignore them, too focused on getting to the chariot where the horses are. After a moment or two everyone starts talking again and you feel yourself being able to breathe again. 

The horses are beautiful, not that you have seen any of them before, only from Capitol’s stories about district 10.

“Quite the entrance there.”, an unknown voice says, and you turn around to see Finnick Odair smiling at you.

“Thank you, I guess.”, you say after a moment of looking at him surprised.

“Horses like some sugar, it’s quite bad for them but once in a while it’s alright. Sugar cube?”, the man looks at you with a questioning gaze while trying to give you a sugar cube and you look at him slightly surprised.

“No thank you, don’t want to eat too much before the chariot ride.”, he nods at your answer and turns around to give it to the horse who happily munches on it. 

“How are you liking the Capitol so far?”, he asks you and you look at him surprised for a moment that he was keeping up the conversation.

“Haven’t seen much of it but it sure seems grand. Any tips on what to visit before the arena?”, you can’t help but ask sarcastically and Finnick chuckles at your words.

“I’ll give you the grand tour when you get out if it.”, this time you do look at him surprised, but he has a knowing look in his eyes.

“Quite certain there.”, you tell him, and he smiles secretly, like he knows everything about you.

“I don’t reveal my sources, but I am quite sure. Do you have any secret?”, you can’t help but blush slightly as the man comes closer to you. You weren’t blind, the man was incredible handsome with green eyes and wavy hair, he seemed like a god.

“Not one that I can think of right now, but I guess you’ll see. I don’t reveal all my cards immediately.”, Finnick smirks at your answer and you try to keep eye contact with the man but it’s getting difficult, with his intense gaze.

“Mysterious, I like it.”, the two of you look at each other before a voice breaks you apart.

“Hopefully I’m not interrupting anything?”, a tense Peeta says, hard eyes looking at the two of you and you take a step back from Finnick.

“Of course not, just getting to know my protégé.”, Finnick says with a smirk, and you look at him slightly confused.

“Protégé?”, Peeta looks pained at the word before coming next to you.

“We just got word that during your training you have been matched with another victor to train you. They say it will make it more spectacular. We still stay your mentor but during training days you will be with Finnick.”, so that is why the man came to talk to you. Peeta doesn’t look very pleased with the matching, and you could understand why.

“What about Gale?”, Finnick smiles at the question and turns towards Peeta to let him answer.

“He will have Johanna.”, Johanna Mason, district seven victor. You had seen her games with Gale to prep for the Quarter Quell as you were sure you would be picked. 

“That sounds like a terrifying duo.”, Peeta nods, looking tired for a moment and you can’t help but smile at him in sympathy.

“Who do you have?”, Peeta looks even more tired at your words as Finnick start sniggering.

“District two, the female tribute.”, you can understand why Finnick laughs, the girl looks like she either wants to kill someone or be left alone. Plus, in the final last year he was against district two.

“Having a party without me?”, a female voice asks, and you turn to see Johanna Mason arriving, looking beautiful and somehow elegant in these high heels.

“Never Jo.”, Finnick flashes her a flirty smile, but she hits him at the back of the head making him pout at her.

Before the two of them can say anything, Gale and Katniss arrive, Gale matches the black and gold, but he seems to be showing as much skin as you are.

“You two are certainly going to catch some attention.”, Johanna says with a smirk, and you can’t help but blush at her long gaze on your body, what did all these victors have to do that.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be rather than annoying us?”, Katniss says quite rudely, and you turn to look at her slightly surprised.

“Why would I want to be anywhere else when I can annoy you Kat-Kat.”, you can’t help but chuckle at the nickname, but you quickly stop yourself. However, Johanna and Finnick have heard you and they are both smirking at you.

“Before this turns into another catfight why don’t we all get our tributes ready?”, Peeta says, trying to soften the mood.

“Sure, baker boy, we’ll see you tomorrow for training anyway.”, Gale looks confused at her words, and you turn to look at him.

“The Capitol decided that we would do our training with another victor.”, he nods at your words and looks less confused.

“And who did we get?”, before any of the others can answer you look at him deadpanned.

“Why do you think they are here? To drink something?”, Gale rolls his eyes at your words but smiles.

“Right well I assume Ken is for you and I’ll get Mason?”, you nod quickly and Finnick argues that he isn’t a Ken doll making us all chuckle.

“All right you two times up we need to get everyone on the chariots.”, the victors leave towards their own tributes before you turn around to Haymitch. You hadn’t seen him since the train ride, and you didn’t know what to feel at the sight of him.

“Remember, you don’t smile you just look forward. You are coming from the winning district, and you are here to remind them of how powerful you are.”, the two of you nod along and Haymitch sends you to the chariots.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright.”, Peeta says after taking your arm softly.

“I know, just feeling the stress right now.”, he smiles softly, understanding what you mean.

“Don’t worry I’ll be here watching, I know you’ll do great.”, the two of you smile at each other for a moment before you break apart and get on the chariot next to Gale. You see Finnick in the distance looking at you with a confused gaze and then towards Peeta as if he was trying to resolve a puzzle, but you don’t have time to think about it before the chariot starts moving.

--

“The Capitol loves you.”, you hear behind you, and you turn around to see Haymitch walking towards you.

There was another level above the district twelve apartment, and it was somehow peaceful to see the Capitol moving around from there.

“Wonderful.”, you can’t help but whisper sarcastically and you hear Haymitch sigh behind you.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”, you can’t help but ask, wondering just what he is sorry for.

“That you are stuck with me now.”, that makes you turn around, seeing him sat down on the bench looking tired, sadness lingering in his eyes.

“I should have never told you the truth, that way you could still be with your father and mother without thinking of me.”, you don’t know what to answer, the anger lingering in your blood feels too small compared to the sadness you have.

“Would it be better that I would’ve known this since I was little? Probably. Was I pissed when I heard you say this in the train? So much.”, you see Haymitch nod slowly at your words, but he doesn’t say anything.

“But that doesn’t mean it would’ve been better for me never to know about this.”, that makes him look up and he looks at you surprised for a moment.

“I used to go by the butcher’s window just to see you there, up on the stool laughing while your father did things to make you laugh. And every time I knew you were better off without me. Maybe we should’ve told you earlier but I’m happy that you had a good childhood, it could’ve been bad with me in it.”, he says after a moment, and you look at him for a moment before sitting down next to him.

“We will never know how it would’ve been and I could decide right now to ignore every single thing you said in the train or in the last minutes, but I won’t. I’ve only got four days to get to know my biological father and I hope that we can do that.” You tell him slowly, unsure of how he would respond to your words.

“I would like that.”, the two of you smile at each other before turning around to look at the city. 

“Tell me about yourself.”, you hear yourself whisper and the rest of the night is spent on the roof, talking about Haymitch’s childhood and yours while the city went to sleep.

Thank you for all the comments it really helps! Not sure how the games are going to happen but we'll see!

Taglist: @wannapizzamymindposts, @experiencebeinanamericanwh0re, @capswife, @star-of-velaris (Tumblr didn't manage to find your @ so hopefully it works!)

[voxofthevoid]

I usually post these ~12 hours earlier, buuuut I queue these on Tuesday, usually, and this time, I lost track of the days/dates. That happens a lot, to be fair.

This fic is now a baby novel: 53k and counting. I only have 2.5 chapters left to write, at least.

Onto Time Travel Fuck-It Wednesday #6! Have some Nanami.

“Nanami,” Satoru greets cheerfully. “Where is he? You didn’t lose my Yuuji, did you?”

“He’s at the school with your first-years,” comes the clipped answer. Nanami opens the door wider with visible reluctance. “Come inside. We need to talk.”

Satoru whistles softly. “Sounds like I’m in trouble.”

Nanami doesn’t dignify that with an answer, turning on his heels and marching deeper into his apartment. Satoru follows, closing the door behind him, and isn’t particularly surprised to find a bottle of some liquor and a half-full glass on the coffee table. Nanami’s sitting in one corner of the couch, his hunched body and the tension thrumming in it reminding Satoru of how he found Yuuji after he introduced him to Megumi and Nobara.

That night ended very pleasantly, but Satoru doesn’t have high hopes for this conversation.

He takes the recliner opposite the couch, sinking into the plush upholstery. Nanami has the air of a man who’s considering his words. He’s dressed casually, in a long-sleeved t-shirt and sweatpants, but there’s nothing easy or comfortable about his posture or demeanor.

Sure enough—

“What exactly is your relationship with Itadori-kun?”

Satoru can’t help smiling. “You never change, Nanami.”

“Answer the question.” A split-second of hesitation, followed by— “Please.”

“You already know what Yuuji is to me. You wouldn’t bother with this little…interrogation otherwise,” Satoru points out.

He can hear Nanami grind his teeth. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh?”

“I know what you mean to Itadori-kun. I know nothing of your feelings.”

Satoru hums. “I think I should be offended.”

“Gojou-san.”

Satoru holds his arms up in a faux-conciliatory gesture. “Fine, fine. Yuuji is…” There’s a lot Satoru could say: special, beautiful, brave, damned. The list goes on, and each one is as true as the others. But in the end, it comes down to— “He’s mine.”

Nanami briefly, furiously screws his eyes shut. Satoru isn’t entirely unsympathetic, but then, what was Nanami really expecting? He should know by now not to ask questions he doesn’t want the answer to, especially if he knows them already.

Nanami says, “You’re going to kill him.”

Satoru doesn’t waver; he doesn’t allow it. “I am.”

“He knows.”

“He does.”

Dark, angry eyes skewer Satoru. “How do you justify this?”

“You’ll have to be more precise, Nanami.” Satoru smiles. Nanami gaze drops to it, and his whole face draws up tight. “What am I meant to justify? The killing? You already know why. I told you first thing. The loving? Are you saying I should’ve rejected him?”

“Yes. Obviously, you—”

“And then what?” Satoru cuts in, and he finds he can’t quite keep up that smile anymore. “Let him die a broken-hearted virgin? Why would I do that when I can give him what he wants instead?”

Nanami seems on the verge of rising from the couch and leaping at Satoru. He never will, of course. He’s one of the most controlled people Satoru has ever known. But it says something that Nanami’s tempted, and the fact that it shows is telling in its own way.

All this after two measly weeks—Yuuji really is something else.

“Don’t you dare pretend this was for his sake.” Nanami’s voice is even, but there’s an edge to the words that carve up the air between them. “You’ve never been anything but selfish, but this is downright cruel.”

“Ouch,” Satoru intones. “Tell me what you really feel.”

Nanami ignores him. “You can’t be so idiotic as to think it’s better for Itadori-kun to be killed by a lover.”

“Have you asked him? No, I know you haven’t. You should. The answer might surprise you.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Nanami snaps. “That’s not a question any child should have to answer. And you—”

Satoru tilts his head to the side, watching Nanami’s mouth flatter into an even thinner line. “Go on.”

Nanami’s silent for the longest time. It’s not anything as wise as hesitance. His eyes are burning, and there’s a red tint to his ears and cheeks that has nothing to do with the half-drained glass of alcohol on the table. Nanami’s filters might be lower than usual or ideal, but he’s not lacking clarity.

There’s the fleeting thought that maybe Satoru should have answered some of his calls, just to let him get it out of his system in increments, all from a safe distance. Yuuji would have expertly handled Nanami in the aftermath, he’s sure. He might even have scolded Satoru, which is always delightfully novel.

But Satoru’s finding it hard to summon any real regret. He doesn’t want to antagonize Nanami. He understands where he’s coming from. He’s even glad, albeit in a distant way he can’t really feel at the moment, that Nanami’s already grown to care so much for Yuuji. He knows it’ll make Yuuji happy.

Still, something grates.

“Do you not care?” Nanami finally asks, so softly that Satoru’s skin prickles in alarm. “Or did killing your last lover rob you of whatever humanity you had left?”

Satoru laughs.

Mouth open, head thrown back, loud and unfettered.

He laughs until his eyes burn and throat aches, and he knows, the full might of the Six Eyes trained on Nanami despite the laughter racking his body, that it’s not the reaction Nanami expected. His expression is caught halfway between anger and surprise, and the end result is strangely comical. That doesn’t help Satoru calm down any.

It’s not funny, of course.

You don’t wield jujutsu to protect anything. You only use it for self-satisfaction.

None of this is funny.

By the time his laughter tapers off, the tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife.

“And you call me cruel,” Satoru says, still a little breathless. “Sometimes, Nanami, I think I can’t forgive you after all.”

To his credit, Nanami recovers quickly. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”

“I will anyway,” Satoru says, head still tipped back. He forces his eyes to focus on the blue-grey ceiling instead of Nanami. “Not for your sake. Not even for mine. But we didn’t survive this long to fight now. Yuuji would be sad.”

A strangled sound escapes Nanami. “Gojou—”

The front door bangs open.

“Nanamin,” crows a familiar voice. “I’m home!”

“Shit,” Nanami curses softly.

Satoru stays put, but his attention is a different matter, fixating on Yuuji’s presence with a fervor that burns him from blood to bone. It takes only seconds for him to enter the living room, and Satoru knows the exact moment Yuuji spots him.

His whole body sings.

“Satoru,” Yuuji gasps, distilled delight. “You’re back!”

Satoru raises his head, the smile on his mouth as helpless as it’s real. “Surprise. Did you miss me?”

[hiraeth-witch-11]

Possessed

Oneshot? TBD. Maybe I'll use this storyline to practice writing smut.

Warnings: possession, Billy Russo

Word Count: 800ish

“This is not how I expected being possessed to go. Not that I ever gave it a whole lotta thought, but if I did, this wouldn’t be it.” You stare into the mirror, watching as the black clears from your eyes.

You’re tellin’ me, the demon grumbles.

“Hey, this is on you. I didn’t ask to be possessed.”

I tried to possess literally anyone else. It didn’t work.

“It’s not my fault you have performance anxiety, dude.”

I’ll have you know my performance is just fine. Or it would be if I had my own body.

“Why don’t you just leave and go back to hell? Start all over again.”

I am not goin’ back to hell. I just need some time to figure this out, is all.

“Well you’re in my head and I don’t know how well we’re gonna work out, considering you sound like a guy and I’ve got tits and all that.”

I noticed. The bastard sounded smug about it.

“Hey! Keep your eyes to yourself!”

I can’t help what you see, princess.

“Don’t call me that, asshole. I have a name.”

You haven’t told me your name. How am I supposed to know?

“Oh, my bad.” You tell him your name and he repeats it to himself.

I’m William Russo, but you can call me Billy.

“I would say it’s nice to meet you Billy, but it really isn’t. I’m going to have to ask you politely to leave. Please.”

Not gonna happen, sweetheart.

“Don’t call me that either. If you won’t leave on your own, I’m going to have to make you leave.”

The demon-Billy chuckles in your mind. Go for it, baby. 

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! Enough with the pets names and wipe the smug look of your nonexistent face. I’m a quick learner- well maybe not that quick- but I’m not stupid and I’ll figure out how to exorcize you if it’s the last thing I do!”

I guess I’ll be here for a while then. How long do you humans live these days?

“I’ll figure it out. I will, Billy. Just wait and see.”

Okay, darlin’. I believe you.

“That’s still a pet name. We need to come to some sort of agreement on all this otherwise we’re gonna drive each other crazy.”

Speak for yourself. I’m already insane.

“That is not reassuring to hear at all, William.”

Just bein’ honest. What’d you have in mind?

“Uh I haven’t thought that far. Gimme a second.” You take your time and think. If Billy can see what you see and feel what you feel, this could get awkward fast. How could you go to work if he was constantly chattering?

I do not ‘chatter’.

“You could hear me thinking?” You ask with a start.

Every word.

“Can you please not do that?”

I’ll do my best, doll. No promises.

“Okay, so we need to have some ground rules with this. I gotta work and it’s gonna get distracting if you’re in here causing problems. And who the fuck even says doll anymore?.”

I’ll try not to distract you at work, but I’m not gonna be silent for 8 hours-

“12 hours. Most of my shifts are longer than 8 hours.”

Shit. Yeah, no I won’t be silent for that long. I’ll get bored and you don’t wanna deal with me while I'm bored.

“I don’t want to deal with you at all,” you complain.

What’s next?

“You can’t look when I’m showering or getting dressed or doing anything like that.”

I can’t really help what you see.

“Are we like completely sharing all my senses?”

Mmm not completely. I gotta focus to get past sight and hearing.

“At least that’s something. I guess I’m showering and changing with my eyes closed from now on.”

I’ve been in hell for God knows how long and you’re gonna deny me the first good view I’ve had in years? 

“Don’t be a pervert.”

I prefer the term ‘lecher’.

“That really isn’t much better, Russo.”

I may be a demon, but I’m still a man.

This is why I’m gay, you think to yourself.

You’re gay? I can work with that. We both like women, we got somethin’ to talk about now.

“I am not talking about women with you, Russo. Look, I’m exhausted and I want to go to sleep. This whole possession thing has been draining.”

Fine by me.

“Glad I have your permission, William,” you say sarcastically as you shuck your clothes, eyes squeezed shut. You slip on your pjs and practically sink into your mattress.

This is a real comfy bed. Much better than what I had back when I was human.

“Thanks, now please stop talking and let me sleep.”

Good night, love.

“I’m not your ‘love’.” 

Good night, William. 

I wonder if I’ll be able to watch your dreams. 

“Oh my God just please shut up!”

Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from a taglist. Feedback is the spice of life, any and all thoughts are welcome.

Billy Russo Taglist: @snowkestrel, happydeanpotter

Everything Taglist: @kayhi808,

[druidgroves]

Chapter 12: Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall

Fandom: Fallout 4 Words: 9,327 Characters: Georgia Tate (Canon Divergent Sole Survivor), RJ MacCready, Piper Wright, Nick Valentine Notes: warnings for self-harm, but otherwise enjoy ! also go check out the rewritten chapter one if you haven't already! read on ao3 / read on tumblr

The days spent in the house by the river went by relatively quickly. Far too quickly for Mac’s liking, who for once was in favor of sticking to one spot for more than a day. Having a breather between taking down the Gunners and whatever came next was a blessing as far as he was concerned. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still bored, however.

Georgia seemed to pick up on his antsy energy pretty fast. With no injuries preventing bodily-movement, Mac was able to futz around the house as he pleased. Mostly, he paced in front of the broken windows, half reading a comic and half looking out at the water. It wasn’t long before his back and forth in her peripheral made Georgia delegate a task to him. When they arrived, the group had done a preliminary sweep upon arrival, clearing out the radroaches in the process, but had neglected to do a real sweep.

“If you pick over this place good enough,” she said, nodding towards the rest of the house, “my treat at Power Noodles when we’re back in the city.”

Mac perked up at something to do. “What do you want me to look for? Probably not anything good.”

Georgia gave him a doubtful look over her glasses, “You know what I like.”

Thinking of all the junk in her backpack (bar the rings he still pretended he knew nothing about), Mac knew he did. He channeled her energy during his search, and within an hour, he had every leftover knick-knack, lamp, and alarm clock from every room in the house laid out on the kitchen counter. He’d even found a few bottle caps that he pocketed cheerily. Once he was done, he not so subtly got the attention of Georgia, who had been quietly observing his comings and goings over the pages of her book.

Turning down the corner of the page, Georgia sat it on the couch next to her and peeked over the cushions. Her eyes scanned over the spread and she gestured for him to continue with a nod of her head.

Mac cleared his throat and got right into it.

“Three table lamps, with one intact lightbulb, six screws, and usable wiring,” he began, gesturing to the items as he went. “Two alarm clocks with complete circuitry and wiring—I had to bust ‘em open to check. One phone with four screws on the bottom that I could count, plus whatever’s inside. I found a camera in the hall closet with a cracked lens, but I shook it around and nothing inside sounded loose, so that’s good, right? Then I saw a mini toolbox in there I thought you’d be interested in, too. Oh, and another fan.” He paused for a moment then turned back to her. “How’d I do?”

“Not too shabby,” Georgia said with a grin. “Help me strip it all down, and I’ll even buy you a beer at the Dugout.”

“Sounds like a deal to me.”

Picking junk apart down to its base components had only occupied him for so long. Stripping metal and wires wasn’t exactly quiet work either, meaning that once they were ready to bed down and it was his turn to be on night watch, it had to be put away. Naturally, idle hands and minds were prone to wandering. On the table across from Georgia’s sleeping form on the couch, was a stack of books prime for picking through.

After the first couple pages, The War of the Worlds had been the only thing keeping Mac from falling asleep during watch out of pure fear (aliens, man). Of course, Mac would never tell her that, not in a million years. After he had read the chapter describing the extraterrestrial creature emerging from its silver tube, Mac knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he’d actually sleep. That kind of thing had always freaked him out, and the book had only cemented that fear further into his psyche. Besides, just the two of them, out there by the river, alone where anything could snatch them up if it so chose...

But Mac had more tangible things to worry about than aliens. Didn’t stop him from staying up the rest of that night, though. Since they had nothing but time, he planned to take a couple of cat naps throughout the day to catch up on sleep, but upon noticing her stack different from how she left it, Georgia seemingly couldn’t help but pester him about it.

“I didn’t know if you were a science fiction type of guy,” she said, holding up the book, “I figured your super heroes were more your speed.”

“What can I say, I’m a complex person.”

She snorted. “So what’d you think about it? Did it leave you with anything?”

Mac raised a brow. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Y’know,” she said, trying to find the words. “Themes, messages, commentary. Personally, I think there’s somethin’ to be said about the theme of invasion and how it can be applied to critiques the old world, though I guess hindsight gives me the ability to recognize that more than most.”

“Hindsight?” he asked, then snorted. “What, you some sort of time traveler?”

“You can travel through time with a good book is what I meant,” she replied quickly, seemingly distracted by a hangnail. “Read a lot of…first hand accounts about life before, is all.”

Boring, he refrained from saying out loud. The old world was the old world for a reason; he didn’t see the point in even thinking about it too much. It was all bombs and ghost stories now as far as he was concerned.

“Anyways,” she continued, turning the conversation back to him, “did you have any thoughts at all? The War of the Worlds is a classic. Apparently.”

Mac blanched. He hadn’t gotten past chapter six.

“It, uh…It was good,” he started, awkward and sweating under her attentive look. “Had a lot of interesting themes, but uh…I don’t think aliens are for me.”

Georgia had almost looked a little disappointed, but then waved it away as she said, “Ah, don’t worry about it, we’ll find you a book you like yet. To tell you the truth, I tend to be more of a romance kinda gal myself, but I figure it’s good to branch out into other genres to keep yourself well rounded, know what I mean?”

“Yeah, sure,” he’d agreed, if “well rounded” meant reading both Grognak and The Unstoppables. He hadn’t been much of a book guy since leaving Little Lamplight, where attempted performances of old world plays had been one of the many ways to keep themselves entertained whenever the holotape player broke for the thousandth time.

On the fourth day, they decided to move out, but only after Georgia swore up and down that her foot was fine and Mac’s own battle scars had healed enough. With generous stimpak applications for each of them courtesy of the Gunners’ loot, they were back in fighting shape again.

“I’m serious. If you fu—mess it up again,” Mac warned her once more before they left, “you’re on your own.”

“Somehow, I doubt that’s true.” He replied with a heavy roll of his eyes, making her laugh.

“Yeah, well, I’d make you work for it first. Maybe press you for that extra medic pay, huh?”

“What, is my friendship not payment enough?”

Mac laughed, then paused for a moment, thoughts turning to their contract and where it hung in the area between employment and friendship.

“Are you even still paying me technically?” he asked suddenly. He almost felt bad about asking, but not bad enough to not ask. “I mean, I know we’re friends now, but uh, a guy’s gotta get by, you know?”

“You’ll still get your fair share, that much hasn’t changed,” she assured him, “but I guess it’s more equal. It’s like we’re...partners, now, instead of a boss and an employee.”

Partners.

For days, Mac had been trying to put the discovery of the wedding rings in her pack out of his mind, but now she had brought it all back to the forefront. Before him, before Piper, before Preston, did she have a partner? Someone who watched her back and kept her alive for more do-gooder shit? Someone who could have worn one of those rings, having or holding depending on which golden band belonged to them? Who were they, and why, Mac suddenly found himself asking, did he care so much?

He spared a glance at Georgia’s hands. Her fingers were short but thin, with surprisingly well-trimmed nails that were currently tapping an anxious rhythm against her thigh, waiting for his response.

“Partners,” he repeated, nearly choking on the word. He cleared his throat and looked back up at her face. “I can work with that.”

She smiled, her nervous tapping subsiding as she reached for her pack, “Well then, partner, let’s get a move on. Diamond City awaits.”

-----

By the time the walls of the Great Green Jewel came into view, the sky was starting to fade from a dusky orange to a deep blue, with black encroaching on the horizon. It had been a quicker journey with just two people, but the closer they got to the city proper, the more Georgia appeared like she was walking to her tomb.

She still hadn’t told him what her business was with Valentine, even over the four days they’d spent cooped up by the river. He hadn’t bothered to press her for anything either, especially with the thought of the rings sitting heavy on his conscience. Mac couldn’t help but wonder what she planned to do once they got into Diamond City, how long they’d stay, what they’d do afterwards. Whatever she did, Mac just hoped her plan included having him there beside her once it was done.

Georgia nodded a greeting to every wandering guard patrol the closer they got, and to Mac’s surprise, the guards nodded back. When they came upon the outside walls of the city, though, she stopped at an aged statue of some old world swatter player and considered the gate, which was decidedly closed.

“Somethin’ must have happened for them to be closin’ the gate this early,” she muttered, shouldering off her pack to dig out her Pip-Boy from inside. The screen flashed on after a handful of seconds, illuminating them both in blinding green. “It’s not even seven o’clock. I mean, I know it gets dark early this time of year, but the market shouldn’t even be closed yet. What gives?”

“Well, whatever’s going on, we’re stuck out here until they open,” Mac shrugged, leaning against the base of the statue. “Wouldn’t recommend it, but if we were sneaky about it, Goodneighbor isn’t that much further. We could hit up the Rexford for the night, come back in the morning.”

Georgia shook her head, rolling up her jacket sleeve and slapping her Pip-Boy over the cuff of her shirt, “Uh-uh, not tonight. I told Piper and Mr. Valentine I’d be back in a month and we’re already a few days late—you know how I like to be punctual.”

“Then what do you suggest we do? Ring the doorbell and hope they let us in?” Mac quipped, crossing his arms. A look fell over Georgia like she was seriously considering the idea.

“Oh, come on.”

Georgia yanked her backpack onto her shoulders again and walked up to the speaker box outside the gate with purpose. “Just watch,” she said as they approached. Mac complied and watched as she stood up straight and pushed her shoulders back, even smoothing down the flyaway strands in her hair before taking a breath and pressing the button to speak. Oh, he thought as the speaker crackled to life, this should be good.

There was a gruff voice on the other side that said, “City’s closed. Come back in the morning.”

“And good evenin’ to the night shift,” Georgia replied with an eighteen karat grin even though the guard on the other side couldn’t see it. Her accent came out long and put upon, thicker than yao guai hide. “Is there a Mister Danny Sullivan on duty tonight? I come bearin’ gifts.”

Mac balked at Georgia, eyebrows raised and wondering where the hell all…that had come from. What was she playing at?

“Unless you’re a trader, gate don’t open until six tomorrow, sweetheart—” the voice began, but it was abruptly cut off by another.

“Don’t you worry about him. I’ll get that gate open for you in just a second, Miss Georgia,” the second voice said, sounding pleased as punch with themselves.

“Thanks, Danny, you’re a doll. See you in a bit,” Georgia replied, and did Mac just see her wink? He breathed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head in disbelief. Maybe those rings weren’t the bomb he thought they were. After that, the speakers crackled once more before going silent.

The act fell from Georgia’s face as she turned to him, a singular, scarred eyebrow lifting over her glasses, “What?”

“‘Thanks, Danny, you’re a doll,’” Mac repeated, mimicking her tone and batting his eyelashes before laughing outright, “What the heck was that?”

The gate began to creak open and Georgia pursed her lips at him, “Oh, hush up, it’s not like that. You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Besides, I didn’t wanna be stuck outside all night, did you?”

“Hey, I grew up in a cave, I’ve roughed it plenty of times. You’d have nothing to worry about, though. I’m sure ol’ Danny boy would make sure of that,” he smirked with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. A flush spread over her face, betraying the narrowed look she gave him under the security spotlights.

“Don’t say anythin’ when we go in or I swear, MacCready—”

“Hey, hey, ease up. You got us in, I’ll give you that, so go grease those wheels,” he conceded, holding up his hands, “I’m sure Mister Danny Sullivan is waiting on—”

“I will make him leave you outside!” Georgia hissed, but he just laughed and ducked her hand when she tried to swipe at him. The gate had stopped halfway and she gave him a pointed look before she ducked under. “Not a word. I’m serious, Mac.”

“Not a peep outta me, Boss.” Despite his shit-eating grin, he mimicked zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“You little—Danny! You didn’t have to meet us at the gate, you know you were my first stop—”

Mac did his best to school the look on his face before he ducked under, biting down on the side of his tongue to keep his mouth from moving an inch. He popped up behind Georgia to see a man a little taller than she was, with ginger hair and a boyish look to him, but he couldn’t have been that much older than either of them. Either way, nothing about the man said it was any bother for him to make his way over to her.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Miss Georgia, I’m glad to see you back.” He gave a sideways glance at Mac. “With company.”

Georgia just grinned and waved off his concern. The guy definitely wasn’t subtle.

“Can’t expect a girl to roam around the Commonwealth alone, Danny. Besides, I pick up friends wherever I go. Can’t help it,” she shrugged, putting just enough emphasis on friends that Danny picked up on it quickly. That seemed to be enough for him and he grinned down at Georgia as he spoke.

“Guess that’s just part of your natural charm,” he agreed and Mac nearly broke when he saw her roll her lips between her teeth for just a second. Ol’ Danny boy had it bad, Mac could tell. He knew in that moment, Georgia was aware she may have gotten herself in too deep.

“Guess so! Now, Danny, I’d love to stay and chat, but me and my friend over here have walked from one side of Boston to the other it feels like to sell our scrap—you know, just some ammunition for Arturo and odds and ends for Myrna—so, I was thinkin’...we could skip the bag check this time?” she asked, pushing her glasses down just a touch to look up at him from under her lashes. “There could be a little treasure in it for you. I did say I came bearin’ gifts, didn’t I?”

Mac had to clear his throat to stop a laugh from escaping him and he certainly did not miss the look Georgia shot him out of the corner of her eye while Danny lit up.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d say you were trying to bribe me, but I know that isn’t your style, Miss Georgia,” he said, though he no doubt felt flattered by the notion. “I’d let you through without it because you’re you, but McDonough’s been cracking down lately and I’ve already let you past the gate. Just after you left, we had another person lose their minds in the market, accusing someone just reading the paper of being a synth. Pulled out a knife this time, but thankfully no one got hurt. McDonough thinks putting a curfew on the gate will help keep out ‘undesirables,’ but I dunno. Not everyone coming in after hours is always unwanted.”

With that, he grinned widely at Georgia, who looked perturbed by the news before switching back to a gentle, unconcerned smile.

“Oh, that’s awful to hear, but I guess I understand,” she conceded, albeit unhappily. Then she yawned, stretching her arms. “But could we still make it fast? Like I said, we’ve been walkin’ all day and would love to catch some sleep as soon as possible.”

Danny considered her for a moment, giving a deferring look towards Mac who had long ago furrowed his brow at the mention of the marketplace incident. “I’ll try to be quick. Just let me know when you’re leaving next time so I get a chance to say goodbye…if your friend here doesn’t mind.”

Mac raised an eyebrow, giving Georgia a glance. Why the hell would he care?

“I’m sure he doesn’t,” she said quickly, suddenly growing a little testy. “But let’s get a move on, shall we? I’m likely to fall asleep on my feet.”

At the security desk, Danny barely skimmed the top of Georgia’s pack. There were two other guards, one flipping through an old catalog and the other sat in a chair with his feet propped up, watching them behind dark tinted sunglasses. It struck Mac as a little odd, wearing sunglasses at night, but he turned his attention back to Georgia, who was still working her magic.

She was chatting to Danny the entire time, giving him short little snippets of what she’d been up to since she’d been in last. She had him wrapped around her little finger, even though by that point Mac knew she probably didn’t want him to be. Danny may have been somewhat motivated by it though, given that he would have liked to lay everything inside of Mac’s pack out on the counter before she stopped him. Georgia cleared her throat and started asking him about what it was like being a security guard. It may have all been an act, but Mac would be damned if he said it wasn’t working for them.

“Well, it’s been nice catchin’ up with you, Danny,” she said once the ordeal was over. “See you around.”

“For sure,” he beamed, oblivious. “You take care, Miss Georgia.”

She gave Danny one last smile before heading towards the stairs leading to the marketplace. As soon as they were out of sight, she retreated into herself and the smile fell as she let go of a heavy sigh.

“That looked painful,” Mac said.

“Jesus, you’re tellin’ me. You’re polite to a guy one time and he thinks he’s got a chance,” she groaned, pushing her glasses up and running a hand down her face. He raised a brow at her to continue. “He needed a reason for the logbooks when I first came to Diamond City, and I overshared. Now he thinks he’s gonna get lucky.”

Mac shrugged, “If he couldn’t tell that any of that was phony, then I don’t think you can blame yourself for this one.”

“I guess. But hey, we’re inside and that’s what matters,” she said as they came into the marketplace.

The shops were still open, but Georgia steered the both of them to the side door of Publick Occurrences instead, knocking a pattern into the metal door.

“First stop is Piper. She’ll let us drop off our stuff and sleep on her couch if I promise her some news,” she told him as they waited on the reporter’s stoop.

It took a while, enough for Georgia to knock again with a little more force, but when the door eventually opened, they heard Piper speaking before she had even touched the handle.

“—supposed to be with Ellie for the night, Nat, you said—”

Half in the doorway, Piper froze when she realized who was outside. She didn’t look like the put together journalist Mac remembered from the brief time he’d met her over a month ago. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her clothes—casual, not her usual getup—were wrinkled like they had been thrown on only seconds before.

Mac couldn’t stop the snicker that came out of him as Piper froze in front of them.

“Blue! And this guy! You’re back!” she said, her body filling the gap between the door and its frame as she put two and two together. “And you’re probably looking for a place to stay because I offered you my couch when you’re in town. Because of course I did.”

Briefly, she put her head in her hand and sighed. Behind her, a low yet distinctly feminine voice called out. 

“You alright, Pipes?”

Georgia spared a glance towards him, mouthing ‘Pipes?’ with barely concealed interest and he just shrugged. Through a gap between Piper’s head and the door, Mac caught a glimpse of another woman peeking into frame. She was taller than the both of them, with strong features and pale hair that tickled her chin, and equally as messy as Piper’s. Her clothes were just as wrinkled, too.

Mac’s eyes met Georgia’s again, attempting to suppress the smirk working its way onto his face, while she looked a little pink in the cheeks at their unintended intrusion.

“Yep, yeah, I’m fine!” Piper responded quickly, moving to step fully outside. “I’ll be just a second. Friend in town.”

With that, Piper closed the door behind her as quickly as she could without hitting herself with it on the way out. Georgia held up her hands before she could even speak.

“Don’t worry about it, Piper. We’ll hit up the Dugout this time,” she said and Piper deflated with visible relief.

“Thank you, Georgia,” she muttered, running a hand down her flushed face. “You’re the only person left in the Commonwealth that still has tact.”

“But you’re definitely tellin’ me everythin’ the next time I come in,” Georgia smirked. “Now shoo, don’t keep your company waitin’.”

Piper looked comparable to a ripe tato before she disappeared back into her dwelling, thanking Georgia profusely. Once she was gone, Mac let loose the bark of laughter he’d been holding in.

“Alright, alright, get it out now,” Georgia said, eyes falling towards the direction of the Dugout Inn. “Guess we’ll be spendin’ money on some rooms tonight.”

Mac quieted it down when heard the seriousness that began to pervade her voice. She fished a pouch of caps out of her pack and tossed it to him.

“Sell off all that scrap, grab two orders of noodles, then get us some rooms, my treat. Think you can handle that? I wanna touch base with Mr. Valentine as soon as I can.”

“If it’s on your tab, I can take care of it,” he teased as he caught them, trying to gauge where she was at. “Everything gonna be alright with Valentine?”

“I hope so,” she said after a pause, then straightened her pack and pushed her glasses up, trying to put on a cheerier voice, “I’ll meet you when I’m done, okay? See you in a bit.”

Mac didn’t say anything, but nodded. As he watched her retreat, he hoped that whatever she needed Valentine for, it worked out in her favor.

— — — — —

Georgia sighs as she walks away from Piper’s doorstep, leaving Mac with the easier task between the two of them. She’s had her time. She’s put this off long enough.

The walk to Mr. Valentine’s office seems almost too short, but it gives her a little more time to think (like she’d need any more after the month she’s had to do so). She wonders what the detective will have for when she steps through the door, what sort of world-shattering news he’ll give her this time. Before, it was that the person she watched murder Nate and snatch Shaun out of his arms was a man named Kellogg, and that he had been seen in Diamond City just a few months prior to her arrival. She also learned that a ten year old boy had been seen in his shadow.

She still got shivers when she thought about the man. He was the starring role in her worst nightmares, the face that put revenge in her heart like a knife, twisting it each night. She’d been apt when she described his voice like sandpaper across her face. She had been in a panic when he peered into her cryopod and called her “the backup,” but it stuck with her whether she liked it or not. Two simple words that opened up a sea of questions, but only one remained: what did he want with her son?

Before she left for a month—or, rather, if she was feeling particularly cruel to herself, before she ran away—she and Mr. Valentine had made an attempt at getting into the old house in the abandoned West Stands. She had broken six bobby pins before she finally gave up. Whatever lock Kellogg had put on his door, he made sure no one was getting in, plain and simple. Mr. Valentine had suggested talking to the Mayor’s assistant about getting a copy, but they quickly shot down the idea once they rationalized it. Given that she had taken to associating with Diamond City’s most reviled reporter and its most detested detective on the same day, all her charm could only do so much against good old fashioned bigotry. That had almost been her last straw, and she must have looked like it, too, because Mr. Valentine had put a hand on her shoulder and just told her he’d find a way to push through. She knew now that he had meant to inspire hope, to keep her going forward, but all it did was make her wish she could just stop.

Whatever vigor she thought she was going to face this new world with had disappeared when reality didn’t match up to her optimism. For the past month, she had been scared of what she’d find in chasing after the ghosts of Shaun and his kidnappers. The world Georgia had woken up in was far more dangerous than the one Shaun had been born into, even without the threat of nuclear war.

If, miraculously, the boy seen with Kellogg was her son, it meant two things: one, that after watching her own personal horror show play out in front of her, more time had passed between getting refrozen and being thawed out again, and two, it meant that she had missed out on ten or so years of Shaun’s life. Ten years possibly spent wondering if he ever had parents who loved him, when the reality was one was dead and the other a coward.

Georgia had her month of running away from her problems and not facing the truth for what it was: that her son was more than likely gone. She couldn’t bear to say or even think the other, more definitive word. She had given herself a month of putting it off and now that it was over, she had nowhere else to go.

If Nate could see me now, she thinks to herself, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s seen me at my worst.

What breaks her heart the most was that even with one parent still alive, Shaun had no one. No one to hold his hand when things were scary, no one to tuck him into bed, no one to be there for him when he needed someone—needed her—the most. She doubts there are any other Little Lamplights around to take in another of the wasteland’s lost children, and when the thought hits her, a different kind of heaviness settles on her.

She needs to tell Mac.

She’d been too fucking cagey and was starting to slip. She told him she would come clean at some point, and after tonight, it would have to be sooner rather than later. There was no more hiding it. Yes, she trusts him with her life, that much has been clear to her for a while, but they had only just breached the threshold of friends. Dumping her personal problems on top of him makes her worried she will lose the one person who wasn’t already caught up in them. Preston had known from the get go and she only told Piper on the condition that she be the deciding factor in when her interview got published. Mac had virtually no idea who she was or what her past entailed when they met, and for some reason that had enamored her enough to stick with him. For the better part of a month, between helping settlements and traveling the Commonwealth with Mac, she got to be Just Georgia. It was the closest thing to being herself, instead of General Tate or the Woman Out of Time. A savior and a spectacle. There was very little room for the person underneath.

Before she last left Mr. Valentine, she told him to take his time with her case and had put on all the old world manners she’d held on to. She thanked him graciously for his help and told him she’d be back in a month, then sobbed on Piper’s couch for two hours. She had only barely held it in before getting there—she hated crying in front of people and Nate had never known what to do with her when she did. It made her feel more than just a little pathetic.

A month ago, that walk from the office had felt miles longer when she’d been entirely focused on not breaking down in the marketplace. Now, as she realizes she’s been standing in front of the glowing neon sign of Valentine’s Detective Agency for more than a couple minutes, it still feels far too short.

Georgia snakes shaking fingers under the left sleeve of her jacket and pinches, hard enough to draw blood and focus her attention again before turning down the short alley to the detective’s door. She is in the moment now whether she wants to be or not.

She knocks first, because she’s not an animal and her mama raised her to know better. She doesn’t enter until she hears Mr. Valentine shout, “Come on in, Ms. Tate. It’s unlocked.”

Georgia pauses, smiles to herself, and turns the handle.

“How’d you know it was me?” she asks when she enters.

The synthetic man is sitting behind his desk, surrounded by a cloud of smoke that already has her itching for the carton in her pack. He has stacks of papers and faded manila folders spread out in front of him, obviously in the middle of all manner of casework. He smiles back at her, replying, “You’re the only one in this century that still has the decency to knock.”

Georgia looks around for Ellie before remembering she was babysitting Nat for the night, but beside Mr. Valentine on the floor, to her surprise, is Dogmeat.

“Well, don’t he look comfortable,” she says to him, bending down to give him a good scratch under his collar before sitting down across from Mr. Valentine. He barely acknowledges her, as if her comings and goings are inconsequential to him save the twitching of his tail saying otherwise.

“Sorry to bother you so late,” she says, turning her attention back to the synth. “Had a bit of a delay gettin’ back, but I thought I’d check in with you before I turned in for the night.”

“It’s no bother really. Glad to see you back,” he replies, always the gentleman, and nods towards Dogmeat with a chuckle. “I don’t know why he’s pretending like he’s not happy to see you too. He showed up a few days ago, looking plenty eager to find you.”

His chuckle sounds like his robotic lungs are actually capable of being affected by the haze of smoke in the room, a pack-a-day smoker’s laugh that reminds Georgia of her grandfather. It's so rough and human and familiar that it begins to calm her nerves. Even with his appearance and the general attitude towards synths in Diamond City, she has to hand it to him for knowing how to put people at ease. She wonders, vaguely, if his way with words is what drew him to his career or the other way around. She wonders the same about herself, before everything.

“Strange, because I left him with a friend back at the Castle last I knew,” she replies, picturing Preston in an absolute tizzy once he realizes he lost her dog. Mama Murphy had told her that Dogmeat didn’t really have an owner, but she knew that wouldn’t stop the man from fretting anyways.

“Minutemen keep you occupied past your shift time?” Mr. Valentine asks, picking up the cigarette filling the room with smoke from the ashtray and putting it between plastic lips.

“That, and I picked up another friend since we last spoke. Helped him out with a little bit of trouble—that’s why I’m late.”

“On time, more like,” Valentine counters as he produces another cigarette from his breast pocket and offers it to her.

Georgia didn’t realize she’d been staring it down, but she takes it without a second thought. Once she’s lit up and feeling a little more grounded, she asks, “What do you mean?”

He nods down to Dogmeat and her eyes follow. “While he’s been here, he’s certainly put in the work. Helped me out on a few local cases, actually. Folks tend to be a lot more forthcoming when he’s around. But he must have had a yearning for clues, because he started poking around near the West Stands this morning and found this.”

Mr. Valentine leans over to open one of the drawers in his desk, shaking it a few times before it finally gives. He takes something from inside and sits it down on top, moving his intact hand away to reveal a key. Georgia holds her breath.

“I tried it on Kellogg’s door, just to be sure,” Valentine says as he slides it across the desk to her. “The handle turned, but I wanted you to be there when we go inside. Are you ready?”

Georgia steels herself, lets go of the breath she’d been holding, and nods.

“As I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

-----

Mac watches the hard line of Georgia’s shoulders disappear into the alleyways of Diamond City. There seems to be a lot weighing on her now and in this moment, he can help just a little by completing his list of tasks.

It doesn’t take long to offload the scrap and sellable trinkets. The stall owners, Myrna in particular, seem eager to close up shop and give him better prices than they usually would in an effort to shoo him away faster. Mac can only attribute it to the synth paranoia.

Getting two covered bowls of noodles from Takahashi takes even less time, though he hopes Georgia comes back before they get too cold. After that, he heads over to the Dugout.

The bar is in full swing when he enters, the beat up old radio on the counter next to Vadim cranked up as high as it’ll go. Even so, Mac can hear the man shouting over the music to his patrons as he serves drinks. He squeezes past a few people surrounding the Port-A-Diner, waving at Vadim when he catches his attention. He reminds himself to remind Georgia about the beer she owes him, then makes his way to the quieter of the two Bobrov brothers.

“Oh, a customer,” Yefim says to himself at Mac’s approach, standing up from his chair where he seemed to be having no fun at all despite the packed house. “Need a room?”

“Two if you got ‘em,” Mac says, taking Georgia’s pouch of caps out of his pocket.

Yefim shakes his head, “No good. There is only one room available for the night, bed and couch. You can take it or leave it.”

Mac sighs. At least he’s not paying for it.

“Then I guess I’ll take it,” he says, handing the caps to Yefim. “We’ll make it work.”

“Room two is yours,” the man replies as he counts the caps in his palm. “Enjoy.”

Once inside the room, Mac throws his pack onto the couch pressed up against one of the walls. He decides Georgia can have the bed—besides, there’s a chance she might fall victim to her own manners and tell him he can have it anyways, just to be nice. His stomach growls when he sets the bowls on the low coffee table and he wastes no time in inhaling his own. The warm broth and the soft yet slightly rubbery noodles fill him better than anything he’s had in the last month. When he’s practically licked the bowl clean and Georgia still hasn’t shown, Mac decides to relax a little. Surely her business with Valentine, at this time of night, wouldn’t take too long.

So he waits. He goes through the remaining inventory of his pack, counting and recounting caps and bullets.

And he waits. He pulls out his journal and doodles in the back of it, then starts on another letter to Duncan that doesn’t get very far after the standard “Hey there, kiddo. It’s Dad” before he puts it away again.

And he waits. He speeds through an issue of Grognak twice by the time a knock—the same pattern he heard knocked onto Piper’s door—comes from outside the room, making him jump. Mac doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he’s killed enough of it waiting on Georgia.

He hops off the couch to answer and when he opens it, the look on her face is all it takes to let him know something is very, very wrong. Tears streaks and red eyes make not the perfect picture of his friend.

Whatever went down with Valentine didn’t go too well by his count. He quickly ushers her inside and waits for her to say something, anything, so he doesn’t have to pull out the there, theres and the it’ll be alrights just yet. He’s never been the best at comforting people; it went hand in hand with his poor bedside manner. But by the looks of it, Georgia is in need of some sort of…sympathy, he supposes. He’ll make it work.

She doesn’t speak though, not until she takes off her pack and sits down on the bed, head in her hands. It’s awkwardly quiet for a few tense moments. Mac is watching the rise and fall of her back, wondering what angle he should come at her with, when she takes a deep breath.

“So, uh, obviously I’m not doin’ too hot right now,” she begins. She still won’t look at him and her voice shakes. “But don’t feel like you need to do anythin’ about it, alright? I just wanna explain myself.”

Mac is more confused than he’s ever been. What is he about to get himself into? Despite his confusion, he’s still curious. He can’t help himself. He nods.

“Okay,” he says slowly, leaning against the wall with arms crossed.

Georgia sucks in another breath, preparing herself before she speaks again. Her words are hoarse and paper thin this time.

“By now I know you know somethin’ is…up with me, for lack of a better word, so I’m just gonna come out and say it, okay? It’s goin’ to sound insane and crazy and, and made up, but you can’t make fun of me,” she tells him seriously, words pouring out of her like water now, and he holds up his hands in defense. Whatever she’s about to tell him, she’s treating it as grievously as the bombs.

“I make no promises,” he says, trying to add some levity to the situation, but it’s apparently the wrong thing to say. Her head whips up to look him in the eye, expression fierce in spite of the watery look in her eyes.

“RJ,” she pleads and he folds instantly, giving her an apologetic look.

“Sorry. Continue.”

She sniffs and wipes her nose on her sleeve, but then he sees one of Georgia’s hands disappear up the opposite one, catching how she flinches in a way that makes him just a little more concerned than he already is.

“I told you that I wasn’t technically from a vault,” she starts again, trying to find the right words. Mac feels a tingle run up his spine—is she finally about to tell him what he’s been wondering and theorizing about for the past month? “And I’m not. I mean, I spent some time in one, way longer than I thought I did, but…”

She trails off with a distant look in her eyes, the same one she’d gotten in the diner when she told him that story about dance halls. Georgia flinches again and tears her gaze away from the wall she had started to bore a hole into. Mac feels incredibly awkward now, unable to move a muscle, but he listens with such intensity it makes his teeth grind together.

“I’m not technically a vault dweller,” she says again after a moment, and meets his eye, “because Vault-Tec fridged me up for two hundred years and only thawed me out a couple months ago.”

Mac almost laughs outright, thinking she’s playing some elaborate prank on him—a great use of her planning skills, for sure—but stops himself when Georgia doesn’t crack a smile after. Surely she had to be fucking with him, right? Because not even in his wildest theories about the woman in front of him did he ever think to consider that she was a pre-war popsicle. It wasn’t exactly his third or fourth guess, either.

“Believe me or don’t,” she says when he fails to say anything back, “but it’s the truth and nothin’ but.”

The more he considers the idea, the more everything about her starts to fall into place. The Rad-X. The manners. The penchant for old world trinkets. Her teeth, her skin, her god damn hair. She was a walking relic of a world gone by, a living ghost from the time of dance halls and classrooms full of healthy children. A time before the bombs. To think that she had been there before everything went to shit…

Mac has so many questions rattling around in his skull. But only one manages to make its way out.

“How?” he asks after a moment.

“Cryostasis,” she explains, the word coming bitterly from her mouth. “They froze us. We were warned just a few minutes before the…before the end. We almost didn’t get in.”

She stops and this time when she flinches, her fingers come away from the inside of her sleeve smeared with blood. Mac’s expression hardens at the sight.

“What the hell are you doing to yourself?” he demands, crossing the space between them before he can stop himself. She moves away from him when he gets to the bed, holding her arm to her chest with a frown. “Georgia, you have blood on your hands.”

“I’m fine,” she hisses, and she has to know she doesn’t sound as convincing as she thinks she does, because her voice cracks in the middle when she speaks again. “I’m not hurtin’ myself, I’m just, I just—”

Mac sets his jaw and points an accusatory finger at her arm. “Pull your sleeve up then. Prove it.”

Georgia throws him an impetuous look, but relents when he crosses his arms to tell her he’s not going to let this pass. She huffs a sigh and doesn’t look at him, yanking up her jacket and the sleeve of her button up to reveal her work. All along her wrist are scarred and scabbed over crescent moons, evidence of finger nails dug into the skin until they drew blood. Three new clusters still have fresh smears around them.

“Georgia.” He can’t stop the twinge of pity that comes with it.

“I’m fine,” she tries again, though it's obvious by now that she doesn’t even believe herself when she starts to tear up again. Mac sighs, shaking his head.

“Just stay there,” he tells her, and goes for his pack. She doesn’t respond as he digs around for the medkit and snatches the roll of bandages from inside. He presents them to her without much fanfare.

“Do you want to do it, or do you want me to?”

She gives him a petulant look, almost childish as she says, “Will I need to pay you for it?”

Mac rolls his eyes, annoyed, but takes that as an answer and tentatively sits down beside her. The mattress doesn’t sink under his weight as much as it does for her—he realizes now that pre-war, she must have had access to the best, non-irradiated foods money could buy. She’s probably never known a life full of hunger and wanting, and for a second, envy surges through him before he remembers the moment they’re in, gripping the bandages tightly. Petty jealousy has no place here when she’s been nothing but helpful and kind to him, even if she’s being a pain in the ass right now. But right now, she needs his help. He gestures for her arm and she slides it over to him without a word.

Mac unwinds the bandages, rolling out a length that should wrap around her forearm more than once. If anything, it’ll stop the current bleeding and hopefully get in the way of any further marring.

“Vault-Tec told us they were decontamination pods,” she says, almost startling him. “Gave us some vault suits and told us to hop on in. God, we were so fuckin’ stupid.”

He says nothing as he starts to wind the bandages around her arm. Still, with the way she keeps saying we, he has a hunch about who else went into the vault with her. He makes sure the bandage is just tight enough that trying to wiggle a finger under it is more hassle than it’s worth. As he touches her skin, though, he realizes why she always felt so cold. A lingering remnant of her time on ice.

“We didn’t realize what was happenin’ at first,” she continues listlessly. “One second I’m in the pod, waitin’ for a bullshit decontamination process to start, and the next I’m wakin’ up to see a stranger pointin’ a gun at my…at my…”

He looks up to see her staring off into space again, her face shiny with tears. Gently, he shifts beside her on the mattress and she starts a little, coming back to the moment like she had suddenly forgotten he was there until he reminded her of his presence.

“Mr. Valentine told me the stranger’s name is Kellogg,” she says, voice feather light but the most coherent she’s been so far. “He’s the man who killed my husband and stole my son out of his arms. That’s why I’m workin’ with Mr. Valentine. To try and find him.”

Mac stops, both because he’s finished wrapping her arm, and because he needs to let the real bombshell she just dropped settle over him. Her situation hits him right where it hurts, makes his chest burn with paternal instinct. All this time, he’d known more about her than he’d ever thought. He knew what it was like to lose a partner, but to lose a child, too, a son…Christ, Mac doesn’t even want to consider it. He feels compelled for a moment to share a bit of his own past, tell her that he gets it and commiserate a bit, but he’s barely handling Georgia’s cascade of emotions. He doesn’t need the added difficulty in dealing with his own.

“Ask your questions now,” she tells him, “or forever hold your peace.”

Mac considers the moment for a while. There’s so much running through his head right now, a thousand things he wants to know. Eventually, after a breath, he settles on one.

“Two hundred years old, huh?”

“Technically somethin’ like two hundred and thirty-four, but who’s countin’?”

The corner of Mac’s mouth twitches. “You’re like something out of a comic book, you know.”

The corner of her own mouth flickers. “Oh yeah? What’s my hero name?”

He thinks for a minute. It has to be good.

“What about ‘The Cryo-General?’”

A sad, pitiful laugh comes out of her, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. It’s snotty and wet and a little gross. Mac lets himself grin just a bit.

“We’ll workshop it,” she says, and takes her arm out of his lap to wipe at her eyes.

“Can I ask you another question?” he asks. She nods. “What did you think of the wasteland? When you first got out?”

He remembers Flora telling him once that she thought she had walked out of Vault 101 and straight into hell. An apt first impression of the Capital Wasteland as far as he was concerned.

Georgia doesn’t miss a beat. “That roaches the size of a toddler were a bit much.”

Mac’s laugh causes a smile to fully settle onto her face and for that, he’s grateful.

“Dogmeat was there when I went to Mr. Valentine’s office—don’t ask me how,” she says after a quiet moment. “We broke into Kellogg’s old house and found some things we can use to track him. Mr. Valentine said a Commonwealth dog like him could sniff a man out for miles.”

“I believe it,” Mac nods. Dogmeat was nothing short of an impressive companion, one he suddenly began to miss.

“So we’re goin’ out tomorrow mornin’ to find him. Bright and early,” she says and looks him in the eye, making him hold her gaze. “You don’t have to come—”

He interrupts her before she can even finish the thought. “Didn’t you say you used to be a teacher?”

The dissonance is enough to stop her in her tracks. “I—What?”

“I just thought that meant you would be smart enough to know that I’m damn well coming,” he says with finality. “You helped me take out the Gunners like what, five days ago? And you don’t think I’m gonna be settling our score still? If you won’t take those caps back, then I’m coming with you.”

Georgia almost looks like she’ll start crying again and Mac is scared she might before she wordlessly throws her arms around him. He’s sitting sideways next to her, so it’s a little uncomfortable and it catches him entirely off guard, but he only flinches a little. She squeezes harder than he thought she could. Her head is next to his shoulder when she whispers “thank you” into his sleeve. He gives her arm a tentative pat before she releases him, face flushed.

“Sorry,” she says, taking off her glasses and using the edge of her shirt to clean the lenses. “I…Thank you, MacCready. RJ. You’re a real good friend.”

“Hey, you’re fine,” he tells her. “This is what friends do, right?”

She puts her glasses back on and leans over, falling towards him slightly on the mattress.

“Then can I be a hundred percent honest with you? As a friend?” she asks.

“More honest than you’ve been already?”

Georgia looks over at him and nods once. Mac nods back.

“I don’t even know if I’m even ready to find him,” she says quietly, like she doesn’t want the world to hear, but once it’s out it’s like she can’t seem to stop it. “I’ve spent all this time avoidin’ the truth like the plague. I tried to justify it, that runnin’ around with a Minuteman was me tryin’ to make this place even just a little bit safer for my son when I finally found him, but fuck if this new world doesn’t suck sometimes. I mean, you can’t go anywhere without runnin’ into mutated abominations around every corner and you heard Danny talk about that synth incident in the market—that’s the second one in as many months, Mac. Why should I even try to bring him into a world like this, when this entire time it’s more likely that he’s probably better off dead—”

“Hey,” he says sternly, cutting her off, “don’t talk like that. You don’t know for sure.”

She’s probably right, but it’s the one fear he can’t validate. Not with his own son’s life hanging in the balance back home.

“And that’s the worst part,” she whispers. “Sometimes…sometimes it feels like the not knowin’ is more bearable than knowin’.”

“Well,” Mac breathes, “how do you know until you know?”

She considers his question for a moment, running her hands down her face as she sighs, “Does it make me a shitty mom that I still don’t know the answer to that?”

“I think the fact that you’ve fought like hell to even get here means you’re the best damn mom in the Commonwealth,” he tells her, entirely earnest. “I don’t think you would’ve come this far if you didn’t want to know.”

Something inside her brain seems to slot into place at his words. It takes her a second, but Georgia starts to return to the person he knows better, the bright, actionable woman he’s known from day one. He’s glad she wasn’t lost entirely.

“We’re gonna have an early start tomorrow,” she tells him, and he can already see the gears turning in her mind. “Mr. Valentine will be taggin’ along and Dogmeat’s back on deck. I don’t know what we’ll find or where we’ll end up, but if it brings me closer to finding my son, I want to go after it if I can. No matter the cost. Are you sure you still want to come?”

For the first time tonight, there’s conviction in her voice, a promise behind her words and she means every bit of it.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” he says and she smiles. “I don’t think I could stay behind even if you asked me to.”

“We’ll say that’s because you can’t bear to part with my company, and not because you can’t let go of a debt,” she laughs, giving him a gentle punch to the shoulder. “But like I said, early start tomorrow. So which room am I in?”

“Oh, uh. This one. Yefim only had one room available,” he says and pats the mattress beneath them. “You can have the bed, if you want it.”

In a move surprising even him, she takes the bed without complaint or counter-offer. Later, in the middle of the night when the sag in the couch brings on aches in his back, Mac only feels a little bit annoyed.

[takabinaryy]

Nap Time

My idea Caregiver- Charlie Little- Vaggie She's mentally five

Slightly fussy regressed vaggie because nap time is not as fun as playing with her toys. Then again cuddles are very important

"Butterfly honey it's nap time , you can play with your blocks after"

Charlie has been at this for 10 minutes now trying to get her regressed girlfriend to take a nap. So far it's not working , the little has been yawning the whole time while playing. And bad enough that earlier Val was here with Al for a playdate. And said pimp gave vaggie two damn cupcakes. So she was on a small sugar high. Hence why the princess wats to get the other to take a nap. Of course vaggie had thought otherwise.

" No , No Mama. I playings. I no nap"

" Yes nap little miss, now please pick up your blocks or I won't give cuddles tonight before bed time"

Said little miss looks at her mama like the woman is crazy! Mama can't take away cuddles! That's a crime!! Cuddles are the best part of the day! Her Mama can't do that, it's not fair!

" you can't do that!"

"Oh but I can if you don't pick up your blocks and come with me for nap time. You have two options here. You can either A. Be a good butterfly and do as i asked you. Or B. You can sit in time out for 10 minutes and go without cuddles tonight."

The blonde tells her , with her hands on her hips looking a tiny bit serious but still soft. The moth pouts and thinks about her choices. So yeah she chooses being good and indeed picking up her blocks, putting them away in the bag they come in. And once she's done , she looks up at Charlie while making grabby hands.

"ups please mama"

"thank you for making a good choice sweet butterfly"

The princess picked up her little one and carried her to their shared bedroom. And lays Vaggie down first before laying down next to the other. In the end Vaggie does get cuddles during nap time. A couple hours after Charlie left the room after cuddling her regressed girlfriend, she had gotten up and left the room. Leaving the door half opened before walking downstairs to get some cleaning done and start on dinner for them both. Since it was just the two of them in the place, angel being at the snake's place to be a babysitter for his regressed older brother. Alastor had of course already informed Charlie , he would be spreading the week with his husband val.(he already lives with Val but likes to stay at the hotel Incase he's needed or to help with the hotel) And that if he was needed to make sure to call him on his fancy old phone. And Husk and Nifty? On a well needed and deserved vacation, accompanied by velvet and Cherri.

After a bit light cleaning was done and the princess was in the kitchen trying to figure out dinner not sure if Vaggie was going to be waking up big or little. So garlic bread pizza seemed to be a good choice. Cutting up the Italian bread into semi-thick slices , spreading a good amount of garlic butter on all 12 slices.(incase they have company there would food for them) Putting them on a tin foil covered tray and in the oven they go , setting the timer on the little chicken timer, setting it on the counter. Now double checking the fridge seeing that they indeed had the right ingredients for tonight's dinner , pulling out the pizza sauce , pepperoni , mushrooms for Vags and of course shredded mozzarella. Charlie was just about put the toppings on the pizzas when something or well someone tugged on the back of her shirt , now turning around her eyes now seeing her little firefly with a slight pout on her lips. The blonde of the two sets the cheese down next to the other ingredients giving her girlfriend her full attention.

" yes my love?"

"..you weren't in bed when i woke up"

"And I'm sorry for that but someone had to make dinner"

"ohs"

"it's okay silly butterfly "

[wynndynights]

𝟙𝟚 𝔻𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟡

𝕄𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕊𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝔻𝕚𝕝𝕦𝕔

𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: !!𝙼𝚘𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝙰𝚄!!, 𝙽𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜 "𝙼𝚛𝚜" 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚜 𝚍𝚞𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜, 𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚜𝚘

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝙰𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍, 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷𝟿𝟹𝟿

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Diluc would never fully understand why in God's name he had decided to agree to this. One moment he was lying comfortably in bed wrapped in warm blankets with you while snow fell peacefully outside the window, and the next you were dragging him out of bed and off to the local shopping district for a holiday charity that you had signed the both of you up for. Normally he would have no problem doing holiday charity work, but this particular work was much more than he was willing to go through.

"Absolutely not."

"Diluc, please." You held his hands tightly in your own and stared up at him with pleading eyes. "You agreed to come help me out."

"Yes, but I never agreed to that." He broke his hands free to gesture in frustration to the bright red santa costume hanging up neatly on the wall of the small changing room. You grabbed the hat and put it on his head, the pout that you had previously worn cracking into an amused grin.

"Awe, but I think it suits you. Plus, all the kids around town are expecting a visit from Santa. We can't just let them down, and there's nobody else we can call in so last minute," you insisted.

"I'll call Kaeya." You shook your head at his words, though amused by his desperate attempts to get out of this.

"He's helping Jean with some last minute work before holiday break." You shut down his idea, earning a deep sigh from him. "C'mon. One hour. If you're still hating it after an hour, we can see about finding someone else to take your spot” He stared at you in silence for a long moment before pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head in defeat.

"Fine. I can't believe the things I do for you sometimes." He barely had time to process your next actions, catching you just in time as you threw yourself at him to wrap him in a tight hug. He wrapped his own arms around you to steady you, and the corners of his lips turned up in a small smile.

"Thank you so much. I promise I'll make it up to you later. I'll make whatever you want for dinner tonight. I'll even make Kaeya do it tomorrow and you can get a bunch of pictures to blackmail him with.” He laughed quietly at your words and nodded.

"Alright, you have a deal." Diluc released you from his arms and stepped back so that he could get changed into the horrible costume. You left him alone in the changing room and scurried into one next door to get ready yourself. When Diluc finally stepped out of his room, you were waiting for him with a large grin. He paused and looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow.

"What are you wearing?" His tone was flat with a hint of annoyance, clearly not approving of whatever you were wearing.

"We match! You can’t have Santa Claus without Mrs Claus." You snickered quietly at his irked expression, twirling around in your own costume before stepping forward to straighten and adjust the fluffy white fake beard on his face.

"I hate you." He sighed quietly and you flicked his forehead, smiling as he furrowed his eyebrows in response.

"No you don't. You love me. Otherwise you wouldn't be standing there dressed in that." You smirked and he rolled his eyes at you, refusing to verbally agree with you even though you both knew you were right. "Now, let's get you out there, Mister Claus. The children are waiting."

"Whatever you say, Mrs Claus." Diluc snorted, following you out of the small clothing shop that had been reserved for you to change in and out into the large central plaza of the outdoor shopping district. There was a large red armchair set up on a small stage in the center, surrounded by beautifully decorated trees and large fake presents. There was a line of children waiting with their parents in front of it, and many of them started to excitedly point and tug on their parents' sleeves as you both appeared and walked towards the chair.

"Stay in a neat line and we'll let you go up one at a time," the woman in charge of the event directed, turning her gaze to look at the two of you as you got settled into the display. As soon as you gave her a quick thumbs up, the first kid was running up to sit herself happily down on Diluc's lap.

"Are you the real Santa? My big brother said Santa isn't real. Where are all your elves and reindeers? How do you get around the world so fast all by yourself? Do the elves have to help you deliver presents?" Diluc opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, slightly caught off guard by her barrage of questions. He stared at her blankly until you tapped his shoulder lightly and he quickly snapped back to reality, clearing his throat stiffly. He made a personal promise to himself to get back at you for this later before responding.

"I sure am. All the elves have to stay back home to make sure all the last few presents are ready for delivery. The reindeer don’t like big crowds, so they’re waiting somewhere safe and quiet. As for how I get around so quickly, magic, obviously." He forced a smile, wanting to crawl into a hole and hide as he heard the subtle sounds of you choking back laughter from behind him, knowing he was never going to live this down now. "Now, what would you like for Christmas, dear?"

"I want a boyfriend and a pony." Her response was immediate, and she smiled brightly. Diluc paused again, resisting the strong urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration again.

"I'll… I'll see what I can do about that." He forced a light chuckle, patting her back gently.

"Thank you, Mister Santa, sir!" She hopped down from his lap and ran over to her waiting parents, waving her arms around and talking to them excitedly as they led her away.

"Well handled, Mister Santa, sir." He rolled his eyes at your whispered words and you laughed quietly.

"Shut up," he replied quietly, snorting and shaking his head lightly as the next kid approached.

"I don't think you're the real Santa," the small boy stated matter-of-factly as he sat down, reaching to pull on Diluc's beard. "I think this is fake."

"Hey now, that's not very nice." You scolded the boy gently from your spot, successfully drawing his attention away long enough for Diluc to fix the beard. "If you don't be a little nicer and tell him what you want for Christmas, how will he ever know what to get you?"

"Fine. I want a toy laser gun and new limited edition action figures. You can tell that to the real Santa for me." He hopped down and scurried away before Diluc could respond. He watched him go with a raised eyebrow before looking up at you with an unimpressed expression.

"One hour," you reminded him quietly. "Please. You're doing great. I promise they won't all be this bad."

"They better not be." He sighed in response, looking towards the long line with an exasperated expression as the next child approached. The next while passed fairly quickly with a large variety of kids with all sorts of strange requests coming and going. By the time you were nearing the one hour mark, Diluc looked about ready to pass out.

"One last person and then we're going to let Santa go on a little break to have lunch." You looked up at the sound of the announcement from the woman managing the line. Shortly after, a small girl hurried up towards you, looking between the two of you with sparkling eyes and tightly gripping a bunny plushie against her chest. Diluc helped lift her up onto his lap and recited the usual question of asking what she wanted for Christmas.

"I want to have a happy Christmas with my mom and dad and play in the snow with them and drink lots of hot cocoa and eat yummy food. And I want all my friends and everybody else in the world to have a good Christmas too." She hummed excitedly before holding her plushie up to her ear and nodding. "And Mister Bunny wants candy and a new stuffy friend and a doll house."

"That's- a very nice request," Diluc responded, slightly caught off guard once again by the much more selfless reply than most he had gotten previously. "I'll see what I can do about that. And we’ll see what we can do for Mister Bunny too." The little girl nodded happily before looking between the two of you curiously for a moment.

"Do you love Mrs Claus?" She asked, now managing to catch the both of you off guard. Diluc turned his head to look up at you standing beside him for a moment and you could feel heat creeping up your cheeks.

"Yes, I love them very much," he answered simply. The girl giggled quietly and kicked her feet.

“Do you have any kids? Who takes over after you? Or are you magical and live forever? Are you still the first Santa Claus? How old are you?” The sudden wave of questions earned a laugh from Diluc and he shook his head lightly.

“We do not. And all those other questions are a secret.” He held a finger up to his lips and the small girl nodded with wide eyes, copying his action and winking with another small giggle. She jumped down from his lap and waved before running off towards her parents, waving her plushie around excitedly.

"Well that was definitely one we haven't heard before," you chuckled. "Are you ready to swap out? I think they have a replacement ready for you now if you still want to leave." Diluc looked out in the direction the girl had left with a small sigh.

"Children are exhausting." He looked out towards the remaining line. "However-" he paused. "I guess they're not all that bad. I said I would do this. I can make it a little longer. Would hate to disappoint them all, after all."

"I'm glad." You smiled brightly at him, resting a hand gently on his shoulder. "Besides, I for one think it's very cute watching you interact with children. You'd make a great dad, you know."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," he objected, though he couldn't deny that he thought maybe having his own kids someday might not be the worst thing in the world. "I can barely handle children for a day. I doubt I could do it every day for the rest of my life."

"Alright, if you say so." You laughed quietly, sensing that even he himself wasn’t fully convinced of his own words. "Now, let's take that little lunch break. Now that you've agreed to it, you've got two more hours of this. Best get your energy up while you can."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go." He snorted as he got to his feet, walking with you towards where another event helper was waiting with a quick snack for you.

"Oh, and one more thing-" You stopped in your tracks for a moment, drawing his attention back to you.

"Hm?" He turned to look at you curiously and you smiled and winked.

"I love you very much as well, Mister Claus."

All works in this event belong to me. Do not copy, translate, or repost. Reblogs are welcome.

[hyperbolicgrinch]

Im baaaaack 😈 Turnabouts fair play babe! Let's goooo !

1, 5 11, 12, 16, 22, 27, 29

🩷❤️💛❤️🩷

(don't ever stop!!!!!! ilysm!!! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)) (i did this instead of crying so forgive me for the mess?? 💓)

1. the last sentence you wrote -

woe, paragraph be upon you instead because that sentence alone would kinda be nothing???:

The waves are singing against the Sunny and the weather is kind. The crew lingers, their own ways to spend the day drifting on the breeze. The world won't go still, but it does, mercifully, slow down. His laughter trails off into deep, even breaths as he falls into a dream larger than you could ever know.

(messy messy messy but the zolu came upon me in the early hours and it had to go somewhere. 🤡) (ignore the second person, sometimes i have to start fics with it and then switch everything to third person later when i have a grip on it. i do not know why. 👐)

5. first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP -

whelp, just have the whole paragraph again cause might be more mid otherwise, asdsfh:

There was another universe where, instead, Law gave in and headbutted him. Sent Eustass stumbling back, wiping the blood from his nose as he straightened from his recoil. Where they made eye contact as Eustass summoned whatever metals lay around the port and Law finally unleashed everything crushed inside his ribcage. Where they fought each other like they were taking down Emperors. Where their crews wasted themselves to get them free of each other.

(i don't know how I feel about it but hey, it's a wip for a reasonnnn. we edit for a reasonnnn. 🙈)

11. a WIP you’d like to finish someday -

not fanfic, although i have many of them i wish could see the world, but i'd love to finish my werewolves in space wip. it rattles around in my brain constantly and the actors my mind cast for the main roles are inspiration alone. i am easily spooked by my original works tho so god only knows if it'll ever be seen. 🥲

12. a trope you’re really into right now -

finding each other in every life (whether familial or platonic or romantic or anything else). it helps me sleep at night. 🥺

16. favorite place to write -

in my bed, just before going to sleep, with something chill on the tv. the words flow better there. it's peaceful. 😌

22. do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that? -

yeah. but also no, not really. by the time i'm in a position to be worrying about that, i've put so much effort and time into the thing that my delight at posting it, shuts off most of the bad what-ifs. i've been real lucky and only ever had nice experiences so far too. if i do worry about it before getting there tho, i hit up my sister or my other hype men and let them distract me from it with their biased povs. 😂

27. your favorite part of the writing process -

just the writing and editing in general, i guess. like when everything is starting to sing and you can add details and hidden gems. when you have a hole and you suddenly know how to fill it. matching words together that compliment each other and let the sentence paint the picture in a fun way. when the ideas elaborate on themselves and i just have to be the bricklayer. it's just really pleasing and calming when a piece starts coming together and you are running down that hill with all the momentum. 💪

29. how easy is it for you to come up with titles? -

90% of the time? too easily. i normally have a title idea before i start writing or just after. or there's something i wrote and when i am reading through later & i see it, i go: "👀 free title real estate mayhaps? 👉👈". at the moment i have like two to three titles for all my fics and works in progress and could come up with more without being threatened. 😂 i'm going to have such a hard time of it when i have to decide. 🫠

thank you for sending me some bangbang!! 💕💕 i'll try to get to the other ask soon. 🫶

[richardsphere]

Leverage Redemption Log: The Date Night Job

Well, that title should be obvious, though weird with Hardisons availability... Oh no, are we going to do a "Sophie and Harry" thing? Or is it going to be Breana? (not saying widowers cant move on, just worried for execution of such) --- Parker on a roof, holding a binocular,

Hardisons actor was available!

Soup in space... So Hardison is going to space, oh right he was working on a satelite with a rich-dude wasnt he? This is going to be a final meal before he goes sort of deal. Parker is worried about the space-trip. Insert Baljeets "so peanuty you wont even taste the chicken" jingle here.

Guy in a limo with his son, headed to some art-based party. He's trying to connect to him and help him deal with the recent death of their grandmother. (please dont be the bad guy)

Kid inherited a fortune and the guy (i think he might not be the father after all, as the kid inherited. He's just a will-executor or trusted accountant) is warning him that people will try to get close to him to exploit him.

YES! Non-guy affiliated badguy is scouting the limo! (that means Guy is just a good surrogate parent and not secretly a bad-guy like Ethan!)

Bad guy presses a button to fake a trafic jam to reroute the limo forcing Hardison to take the long-route to the freeport where Grandma's stuff is stored. (oh no, we're gonna steal from a grieving urchin. I do not like this)

So the lock is supposedly unpickable,and the only way to get the code (refreshes every 12 hours) is to get a biometric scan first. (whose biometrics? Presumeably there is a person in charge of the freeport. Otherwise its a dead grandma and something tells me we're not stealing the corpse.)

Kid's name is Mason. Bucket falls and causes a minor distraction (heist-off?) Someone hacked the kids phone and told him to go elsewhere. (the kid was nana's only inheritor. Grandma doted on the kid and he loved the art. the kids biometrics are valid)

So they've both pre-prepped this heist seperately, Keytone analyser app.

Dont lick the dinobones.

And we're stuck in the vault (someone forced a reset of the passcode) --- TWO DAYS EARLIER (the font has become a lot less obnoxious at some point, i think they reduced it's size a bit.)

Parker, Harry and Breanna are preparing the Watch-heist. Hardison, Sophie and Elliot are preparing the T-rex skull heist.

Team Not-on-a-date went behind their backs and orchestrated the date together. Breanna has a date with a sculptor. (turns out her and electric plane-girl fell through at some point)

Grandma looks a lot younger then they were making her sound so far. (Her dating history is like Leonardo Di Caprio but a woman)

Huh, spirits ruse had a resurgance after they re-inspired the maker to get his groove back. Thats sweet. Oh the game is a Pokemon Go sort of deal (which means they can "drop" a spirit wherever they want Mason to go, and get him to get his biometrics scanned that way)

Sophie pulled an entire con to ensure that the two objects that Parker and Hardison wanted to heist over wouldnt be on the floor because they'd be too easy to steal otherwise. To reiterate: Team Leverage went on an entire con, just to make the heist MORE difficult.

Breana, dont be an asshole to Elliot. --- Justin is a chill dad-type, (please dont be evil... Please dont secretly have orchestrated the robbery) Breanna has cloned the phone, and is now bonding with Mason over the game. Breanna's cloned phone gives Parker the sounds she needed. Donald owns the freeport (please be the badguy so Mason can keep having a good dad.) Sophie puts the skull in the vault and looks at a vase. Elliot plants the key-thingy. Harry gives a guard 2 tickets so that Elliot has a vacancy to infiltrate.

Ok so Elliot's complication is that the guard decides to get some overtime. (yeah he's with the robbers)

Sophie is on the floor with Harry giving some Grifting Lessons.

Harry's guess of "barista" is wrong (coffeeshop with a reading corner). We have found the executor of the will. Studying to be a paralegal.

I knew something was off when a random NPC was talking legal jargon (but i was expecting it to be a case of them seeding some inheritance-drama, not a "Harry's Here". Might be both of course)

Harry drops the bucket, Breanna's hacking gets Mason with the game to leave (i know she's got a date, but we're talking "tell harry which button to press", not personal attendance). Ok, in hindsight it makes sense that its our team pulling a heist-assist. Rather then a rival heist-crew. But im nonetheless proud to have picked it up the first go-round) --- Coms are in play, Guard is knocked out. We need Donalds Key to lift the lockdown. Guard is back up.

Hardison is giving this date a 3-star review. (technically romantic, not the vibe he intended)

Parker has a "Hardison in space" based panic attack. Sorry Breanna, date night has been cancelled.

Harry realises instantly that the Big Robbery of the rich attendees is a distraction for the various vaults. (sure a couple paintings on display from 1 vault are nice, but the stuff that isnt on display from a hundred other vaults? Nicer)

Sophie and Harry suspect an inside man, First Supsect: Donald. (took up big loans to build this place, might be in debt. Unlikely, billionaire clients pay big rent.)

"well i have a client who'd love to peruse your services... this is not a good advert though".

They've realised the kid is missing. (Breanna has his phone, she should be looking. Not Elliot) Ok Mason walks in to find Elliot beating up, what mason thinks to be, a regular security guard.

Breanna has identified the target: Its Mason (hence it being tonight, the one night Mason HAS to be there. Not looking good on the prospects of "worried fatherfigure" being a good man and not being in on the robbery)

Breanna points out a crucial detail about SpiritsRuseGO: No mons on private property to avoid lawsuits.

Parker and Hardison leave the vault just in time for the robbers to access it with Mason. Parker and Hardison are about to adopt mason.

Parker talks with the kid about what its like to miss someone dear to you.

Hot Sauce Heiresses, dammit Justin only got a half-million in the will (please be a red herring, please let the Barista be the one) Donald is financially screwed though, fel for crypto it seems.

Ok I think Donald is actually innocent (he just yanked the alarm. If he was orchestrating this he'd trust his men)

Breanna's date is going south (turns out planegirl is doing well, but Breanna knew that any association with a Leverage member would ruin her future with government contracts)

Breanna's date is over, but the relationship is still on! (good for her) --- Cut to the freeport parking lot and Breanna has "broken" her car. She has discovered the joy of the Taser. The dino is still missing?

Oh they locked the kid in the vault and Donald is the bad guy. (or more likely its a multi-member conspiracy). They're killing the kid so that his inheritance can go to Justin. (still dont know why they took the dino though if it isnt in the car)

Dino head was the kids favourite, they used to picnic in the vault. The armed goons just left explosive behind. Like im not talking "random chemicals in bottles" that parker was going through, they left a chemical fuse in a backpack!

Parker smashing the owl when she sees the kid look in its direction. Hilarious. "wouldnt an explosion just use up more oxygen", good question kid. I like you. "at least if I die i get to see my grandma again" God that is a gut-punch. --- Sophie confronts the guy, Get him to turn on his employers. (Please be Donald and Barista working together, I want to like Justin)

Justin ran upstairs and instantly took note that the dinoskull is back in the vault. Which means he knew it was stolen, which means he's a bad guy.

Survivors clause apparantly means that the heir has to live 30 days past the death.

dude you forgot to change the default password on the vault? Sloppy. Mason with the post-it note. (are we adopting Mason?) Hardisons fosterparent is adopting Mason. Hardison, Mason and Breanna are siblings now. (this in-production third season better feature a Mason Cameo)

[nicolesainz]

New Romantics (Part IV)

Carlos Sainz x OC x Mason Mount

Warnings: sexual themes, 18+, fantasies, and a tad of fluff

Chapter 5

Carlos POV

I could throw up the second I laid my eyes on this so wrong moment. The vodka rushing through my veins was being injected into my brain, making me break the glass I was holding on my hand.

“What the fuck dude! You’re bleeding!” Lando exclaimed loudly as he saw the glass being shattered onto the floor and into my hand, causing the bleeding.

Of course, I didn’t respond. My eyes were still glued on Quinn being held firmly by Mason. His hands were caressing her back while they were occupying each other by kissing.

They suddenly stopped the moment her brother started asking for help due to my accident. I quickly looked down to my bleeding hand. Oh this definitely would give me a disadvantage for tomorrow’s race. It’ll hurt like a bitch trying to hold the steering wheel.

Through the noise of Lando’s voice mixed with the music echoing, I felt a hand grabbing my injured palm. Mine and Quinn’s eyes locked as I felt shivers down my spine. This was wrong. I couldn’t. I took my hand away from hers without saying anything

“How did that happen? We need to get you to the hospital!” she was still looking at me full of worry while I was completely emotionless.

“It’s fine. I’ll wrap it with a few bandages, take a painkiller and sleep the pain off” I replied to her blandly

“You’re joking? Right? There’s no way you’re not getting stitches. You have to go to the hospital”

“There’s so fucking way I’m going there! I have a race in less than 12 hours and I’m not risking it”

“So you prefer to die from continuous bleeding?”

“Yes! Leave it, I’ll be fine”

“Carlos please be sensible! You have a full cut. And how did that even happen?”

“None of your business Quinn. Drop it. I’m going back to the hotel. Tell your brother so he doesn’t worry” I almost yelled at her. It hurt me to do that but jealousy had taken over me, which made me indeed want to die

“I’m coming with you” she followed me outside of the club. “There’s no way you’ll drive with on hand and the other injured Carlos!”

“Not my first rodeo. And don’t come. I’ll be more than fine” my back was still facing her as I was unlocking my car

“I can’t leave you alone! Let me help you” I still wonder how her voice was so calm after how I would reply so mean to her

“I don’t need your help. Go back to your boyfriend” I regretted saying this phrase the moment it left my lips. A nauseous feeling came around once more

Quinn stood still, trying to process what I just had said to her. I caught a slight glimpse of the quizzical look in her face. Then, I saw that Mason was coming out of the club too, apparently looking for her.

I got in the car and turned the engine on. Thankfully it was my left hand which was injured and not the right, which is the one I use more. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to get back to the hotel by myself.

From the rear mirror I could see Mason’s arms being wrapped around Quinn’s shoulders which made my hand grip even tighter the steering wheel. Fucking hell. I wasn’t even thinking about my hand right now. She was occupying my thoughts when she shouldn’t have.

Luckily, I arrived at the hotel safely, holding my hand and covering the blood from dropping to the floor. One of the hotels receptionist saw me and immediately rushed to ask me if I needed anything. I kindly replied that I need a few bandages and some alcohol to clean the wound. Soon, I was on the bathroom floor, cleaning up the mess on my hand and tying it up hardly.

My head was buzzing and wouldn’t stop, so a painkiller did the work for me. Double work. I threw all my clothes on a corner and wore only a simple tracksuit. I fell on the bed, resting my hand away from my body. All the lights were switched off and tried to forced myself to sleep.

Whenever I shut my eyes, she would appear in front of me. Her vision the first time I met her. She was like an angel had fallen on earth. Beautiful and constantly smiling. So innocent and pure.

Everything was feeling hot and heavy around me. Nothing could make this night better. Except, if she was wrapped around me. Nothing can help me relax, so I decide to punish myself even further.

I closed my eyes once and lowered my trousers up to my hips. My hand slipped underneath my boxers and I could feel the pre cum surrounding the tip of my cock. She appeared once more on my thoughts, wearing exactly what she had at the celebratory party at McLaren in 2019. A tight red dress, which was hugging her curvy waist perfectly. Red lipstick and her hair loose with a braided halo. Beautiful as always.

My hand started pumping myself and moving up and down in a fast pace, as I remember her sitting drunkenly in between my legs. I wouldn’t dare to touch her. We were simply talking but my mind wouldn’t stop reminding me how much I wanted to kiss her.

I let out a soft moan with the thought of her being underneath me. Under my control. Her hands roaming all over my body as I leave wet kisses all over her breasts. I bite my lip thinking how I’d die just to hear her scream my name, knowing I make her feel good and pleasing her. I’m at a high and my hand is racing faster than it was before, realizing I’m about to finish.

The way she’s capable of driving me insane is impossible. Having fantasies about a woman who is clearly not interested in me and thinking how good her kisses would feel on every part of me is so wrong. But it would feel so damn right.

I finally let myself cum, exhaling deeply. It’s been almost a day since we reconciled after almost 2 years of not having seen each other and I’m already dreaming about her.

After I go and clean up myself, i grab my phone and look through my contacts, finding her phone number. I have her saved as “little norris trouble”. I smile and think what she’d say if she knew that I still have her phone and have her saved like this. I am fighting the urge to text her. Should I? Should I not?

It’s 2 am in the morning. She’s probably sleeping. Is she though? Maybe she’s still out? Maybe she’s back at the hotel? I hate all this questions going back and forth inside my brain, so I just type the text and hit send without second thoughts.

Me : thank you for offering to help me and I apologIze for acting like a dick.

My heart is rushing, waiting for the reply. Will she reply? Does she still have my number? Maybe she’s blocked me? Oh my god!

Then, a cling sounded from my phone. It was her!

Little Norris Trouble : don’t worry carlos, i understand. i just want you to be safe. how’s your hand by the way?

She still has my number. And as it seems she’s not sleeping.

Me : it’s numb, but we’ll see tomorrow. are you back from the club? do you want me to pick you up?

Little Norris Trouble : i’m back, thankfully. just can’t sleep

Me : you need to rest. the race is early tomorrow and lando usually gets to the track very early

Little Norris Trouble : oh fuck him! I’ll see what I can do.

Me : I’ll let you to your peace. I just wanted to say I’m sorry once again and I hope I’m forgiven

Little Norris Trouble : it’s in the past now, you’re forgiven mr sainz. Although it may be a bit difficult rooting for you tomorrow from your ex teams garage. They’ll kick me out if they see me.

Root for me? This brings back so many memories. I remember that one time, in order to piss off her brother, she wore McLaren merch with my number only on it. A hat, a jersey and a flag. Lando wasn’t very pleased but then she wore a hat with his number. It pleased me that she kept wearing the shirt.

I wonder if she still has these. The shirt and everything. Maybe she’s thrown them away. I’ll never find out and I’m too much of a coward to ask

Me : be careful! you may end up being sprayed with champagne if I get a podium!

Little Norris Trouble : that’d be very entertaining. It’s been a minute since I’ve done that

Me : well, time to have some fun again.

Little Norris Trouble : damn right. Good night Carlos! And good luck for tomorrow! You’ve got this!

Me : Good night Quinn. Thank you for everything. See you tomorrow

At least we can talk now to each other without stuttering. That’s a step forwards!

(I know it’s a short chapter but I wrote it in 1.30 hours. I just wanted to update the story and keep it going! Hope you enjoyyyy!)

[purplefeathersandblackleather]

Christmas With the Avengers Men

(Dragon Soul AI canons ahoy. Do not read if you don't like out of character writings. You have been warned.)

It's Christmas and you've been inviting to the Compound to spend time with the men of the Avengers! You are fascinated by how each of them is handling the holiday. So, who are you most drawn to?

Tony "Iron Man" Stark

Life of the party, definitely the one who put the whole thing together and is easily the one entertaining everyone.

Avoids the mistletoe like the plague. Until you stop under it then he gives you a quick kiss with a flirty wink.

Keeps track on everyone coming and going. Social leader who takes his found family's safety very seriously.

Reluctantly agrees to help decorate the ten-foot tree in the main room. Secretly enjoys it which becomes apparent by the way he fusses over the placement of certain ornaments.

Doesn't drink liquor due to recovering alcoholic. Prefers sparkling cider, cranberry juice and ginger ale. Hates the smell of eggnog with a seething passion.

Tells the dumbest Christmas stories that embarrasses everyone at the party. He remembers waking up in Stephen's room one year in nothing but a red ribbon.

Despite having no Christmas traditions of his own, he accepts everyone's as his own and does at least one thing that everyone wants to.

Doesn't sing during Christmas songs but will dance with whoever asks him to. He fancies 50s versions of the carols. His favorite is Trans-Siberian Orchestra's version of Sarajevo 12/24.

At the end of the party, he makes sure all of his friends are covered up with heavy throws, so they won't be cold when they wake up in the compound.

Damon "Dragon Soul" Renner

Quiet social elite who tends to everyone's needs throughout the party. Makes sure everyone's glasses are filled.

Brings gifts for everyone based off of their personal preferences or religious beliefs. Is mindful not offend anyone.

Keeps everyone else in line when they start to get drunk with a fatherly demeanor. He's very well spoken and able to calm them down without force.

Is the one responsible for most of the baked goods around the gathering; he's spent hours make sure there's enough to go around for everyone.

Prefers mulled cider over alcohol but will have at least one flute of champagne at some point during the night.

Sings every song very well, even the ones in Latin, due to his age. He leads but will do backup when someone else wants to lead.

His favorite tradition is to make wreaths by hand, which he did with his ancestors' spirits may times as a child. He places flocking on them using his magic.

Entertains the group by telling Christmas stories using images made with his magic. His favorite to tell is the time that Apalala saw snow for the first time once they returned to Earth.

His favorite Christmas song is Please Come Home for Christmas by The Eagles. He dances with Tony to this song each year.

When the party ends, he takes care of clean up while tony is making sure everyone is comfortable.

Thor "God of Thunder" Odinson

Is the first one to liven up the party by bringing out the drinks he brought from Asgard and lighting the large bonfire fire in the pit in the center of the patio.

Despite his boisterous personality, he's very polite to the others at the party and listens with interest as everyone tells their stories of their holidays on Earth or otherwise.

His favorite tradition, like that of his nephew Damon, is to make wreaths out of boughs of holly, each with a ribbon that signifies someone that has passed and is still with him in spirit.

Tends to stay away from the Earth liquors after the incident he had with Stephen in the Sanctum, but he does enjoy the cider that Damon makes for him with orange and cinnamon.

Stays near to Loki most of the time, though he does tend to not pull on his reins too tightly. He truly enjoys the sight of his brother showing his Jotunn side as he makes it snow for the party, even if the weather didn't call for it.

Found a song that he does favor thanks to his chosen family that reminds him of Asgard called Hail the Holly King by Inkubus Sukkubus. He does enjoy the sounds of everyone else singing the Earth carols, even if he doesn't join in.

He has the second most embarrassing Christmas stories (to Loki anyhow) that he recalls with the Warriors Three that include pranking Hela (which she got the back for later) and waking up in questionable locations.

He is the one who provides the food for the feast, a typical tradition of Yule, with a large roast boar and many different sides. The savory compliment to Damon's baking.

Is the last to leave the compound the next day because he's typically working off a hangover but bids everyone thanks before leaving back to Asgard.

Loki "Father Winter" Laufeyson

Unlike his brother, he doesn't immediately make his presence known and instead only appears once people start questioning why the plants are frosting over on the edges.

Brings blown glass and hand-crafted ornaments for the decorating around the compound that he used his own magic to create. Some of them took weeks to complete and typically all have coordinating colors to the Avengers.

He typically stays away from stronger alcohols and instead drinks wines or other fruit flavored beverages that way he stays sober enough to keep an eye on Thor once he's drunk.

Being married to King Jokul, he has reign over the snow and ice element, so he's very happy to indulge anyone who wishes to see it snow early and engage in Stephen over who has to deal with more winter conditions throughout the year.

His favorite tradition is ice skating, which he will teach you how to do using the lake on the compound grounds if you ask him nicely, maybe even stroke his ego a little bit.

Shares just as many stories as Thor does, to embarrass his brother in return. But his favorite to tell is the birth of his son, Slepnir who he finally reunited with some years after Odin passed away and bonded with.

Doesn't have a favorite Christmas song though he does enjoy the instrumentals more than the lyrical ones. He has told Tony to stop singing because he considers him "off key" though it's all in good fun.

Like Thor, he brings food for the feast as well, but in the form of fresh vegetables and fruits from the gardens and orchards of Ravenrock, the kingdom of his Jokul Frosti.

He does his best to keep Thor in line whenever he begins to get too boisterous during the festivities, since it had always been a habit that he had ever since they were kids that he still can't shake even though he knows now they're not relatives.

As the second to leave due to the responsibilities he has to Ravenrock and the TSA, he obliges if you ask for a dance and will even leave you with a gift - an enchanted rose made of pure ice that will never melt - as a thank you for a wonderful night.

Bruce "The Hulk" Banner

Despite being on edge almost all of the time, Bruce is very polite and the first to welcome most the guests to the party. He is soft spoken and easy to get along with.

Spends most of his time keeping things organized and making sure that Damon and Clint don't need any help taking things to and from the kitchen but will engage in conversation if spoken to first about anything.

Politely turns down alcohol since he doesn't like the way that it blurs the lines between himself and his powers. He doesn't want to accidentally transform, even if he can control it now.

Like Clint, he tries to be the voice of reason to the people of the party when they begin to get too rowdy, especially if Clint has a hard time hearing them due to the loss in his left ear.

His favorite tradition is cooking, despite not having much experience before he became a part of the Avengers. He is quick to offer his help to Damon or whoever is in the kitchen and doesn't burn things too badly (usually).

Has no stories to tell of Christmas but recalls a few events fondly when he was in South America celebrating Christmas among the people there, seeing the children opening gifts in the villages.

His favorite decorations are the knick knacks that sit on top of the table and the red and green candles in cradles of holly that sit in the upper windows where they won't get bumped and knocked over, which Stephen has Cloak help him place.

Too shy to sing, Bruce would rather engage in dancing with someone during the carols, especially the lesser-known songs like Merry Christmas Baby by Ike & Tina Turner. His favorite song however is Christmas (Please Come Home) by Darlene Love.

While Damon and Clint clean up and Tony makes sure everyone is comfortable if they've passed out after the party, he sees out the guests that leave and bid them a safe, happy holiday.

Clint "Hawkeye" Barton

Is the second life of the party, making sure everyone is actually having a good time and staying comfortable doing their own thing and not pressured into being in a group.

He brings gifts for everyone that are personal in nature, based off of things he's learned of the group over the years.

He's quick to remind everyone even when drinking himself that being drunk doesn't mean being stupid and to keep the fun civilized around the group.

His favorite tradition is to bake and decorate sugar cookies and he's damn good at it. He's been baking cookies with his kids every year since his oldest was born. His favorites to make are snowflakes and reindeer because they're the favorites of his little boys and girl.

He has the most heartwarming Christmas stories about his mother when he was a kid despite his rough upbringing and enjoys telling ones about his own family.

He's the one who can get the tinsel up the top of the tree just by throwing it like a lasso. No one bothers to question how or why it always lands perfectly, given who he is. Frosted glass ornaments with glitter are his favorite.

He sings all of the unconventional Christmas songs, like Jimmy Buffet's Mele Kalikimaka and Chuck Berry's Run, Run Rudolph. But his favorite song out of all of them is actually All I Want For Christmas by Vince Vance & The Valiants because he danced with his wife to it on one of their first dates.

Enjoys drinking cider with whiskey but much rather drinking hot cocoa with cayenne pepper and whipped cream.

Is the first to leave the party after wishing everyone a Happy Holiday to get back to his family who he knows are waiting for him back at the ranch

Stephen "Doctor Strange" Strange

Absolutely avoids everyone when he first arrives due to being in pain from the cold. Once he warms up a bit and his hands stop hurting, he finally joins in the festivities.

Definitely the one responsible for hanging up the mistletoe, mostly to annoy Tony because he knows how to press the man's buttons since they're so similar to his own.

Relies mostly on his magic to help with the party, hanging up the higher decorations with use of his magic. He can't resist wrapping a ribbon or two around the others when they aren't paying attention.

Stays away from the liquor for most of the night, instead enjoying the warm drinks like cocoa, cider and coffee which warm his hands when he holds them. When the night begins to get a little further in, he indulges with a glass of rose champagne during the toast.

Helps embellish Damon's stories with use of his own magic but doesn't seem to have many stories of his own to tell. At least night until you speak to him privately and he tells you about a time with his brother and sister as kids.

Finds ways to make the good kind of chaos around the party, like turning Thro's mead into cider or using ice magic to try and outmatch Loki in a contest of who can ice over the windows faster around the compound.

Sings all of the 50s versions of the carols, particularly enjoying Bing's version of White Christmas and Sinatra's Jingle Bells. His absolute favorite is Little Saint Nick by The Beach Boys.

Doesn't have any particular traditions that he partakes in but is quick to learn everyone else's so he can be a part of them in the next year's get together.

Is the first to try and leave the party but is easy to stop by asking for a last slow dance. Which turns into another and one more until he's forced to stay the night.

T'Challa "Black Panther" Ross

Even though he's not used to American traditions of Christmas, he comes because he has chosen the Avengers as his family and he's happy to socialize.

Is polite and happy to engage in conversation and help decorate around the compound when given instructions where everything goes. However, he's quick to catch on and eventually ends up telling others where things go.

Declines to drink anything aside from tea or cider because he feels responsible for everyone around the compound just as Tony does. That isn't to say he can't be found sneaking a sip of his sister's cocoa just to see how it tastes.

Shares stories about his family during Kwanzaa and the way they celebrate it in Wakanda, since it varies across the lands. His favorite memory is watching his mother light the candles in the kinara and helping his sister do it for the first time when she was little.

Doesn't sing along with the carols but listens closely and remembers the words to ask his husband about when he returns to their palace if he is on a mission or liaison meeting. He does enjoy the piano versions that Damon plays for them, however.

His favorite tradition is to share one's talents with others which if not careful, leads to a lot of fun chaos, especially when Tony and Stephen get involved. He enjoys watching it all unfold however and even gets a laugh in when Clint shows them up.

He is the one to likely ask for a dance first, rather than wait for you to ask because he is keen enough to know that you have been keeping an eye on him all night.

As the third to leave, he's most likely carrying his little sister out of the compound and wishing everyone a blessed holiday until he can see them again.

Scott "Ant Man" Lang

New to the Avengers but a family man at heart, Scott is very easy to get along with and is happy to engage in festivities, from dancing to sharing helping decorate.

Brings simple gifts that him and his daughter chose for everyone, usually just something that can be placed on a shelf and forgotten about later (He says because he knows he'd do it)

Boisterous like Thor and sometimes has to remind himself not to act like too much of an idiot because they're adults despite the gathering making him feel like a big kid.

Doesn't drink due to his history, but he's happy to take a cup of coffee or cocoa if it has a little bit of extra sugar in it to make him feel like he's doing something he shouldn't be.

Challenges Thor to an eating contest and despite being smaller in stature, gives the Asgardian a run for his money but is embarrassed about it later.

Like Clint he has heartwarming stories about his daughter growing up during Christmas and some embarrassing stories of his own like Tony. He recalls waking up in a hotel room bound by tinsel and still having no idea how he got there.

His favorite tradition is wrapping presents, which he helps do immaculately, which surprises everyone. He somehow manages to get the ribbon straight and the edges crisp each and every time.

He loves to sing all of the Christmas songs, even the cheesy ones and his favorite song is Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer by John Denver.

He's not drunk, but instead falls asleep at the compound due to a food coma. All of the carbs from the feast and the sugar crash from the cocoa has caused him to pass out in one of the chairs unashamed.

James "White Wolf" Barnes

Keeps his distance for basically most of the night due to his past history with the Stark family until Tony basically drags him out of the shadows. Still takes a while to warm up to the gathering.

Politely declines to drink due to the nanobots in his system not allowing him to enjoy it anyway, but instead drinks cranberry juice or apple cider.

His favorite tradition is advent calendars, which he did with his family back when he was a child and brings small gifts for everyone up to the date that the party is taking place on.

Is the first one to offer help the decorating, making sure that everything is properly aligned since he can see slight angles between the ornaments and the way the garland is hanging around the banisters or the tree.

Doesn't have stories to tell about Christmas because some of them have been lost due to the accident, but instead he spends his time enjoying everyone else's and playfully poking fun at the ones that are embarrassed by other's stories.

Openly and shamelessly admits that he celebrates Yule, Kwanzaa and Christmas all the same due to his history in Russia, Africa and America/England. He is able to give gifts accordingly because of this and is always thoughtful with them.

Doesn't sing during the carols but does hum along as he decorates. His favorite song is Blue Christmas by Elvis Presley because of a past experience that he never discloses.

Despite it being like pulling snake teeth, he can be persuaded to engage in a slow dance to a few songs after the feast if gently coaxed him through the course of the night.

Leaves shortly after everyone settles in because he's not comfortable staying with the group just yet. But makes sure that security is on detail before he actually leaves the area.

This was a blast to write! I hope all of you enjoy it! Happy holidays, no matter what you celebrate~ @strangelockd @harlekin6 @sobeautifullyobsessed @sinisterstrange616 @fanartka @stewardofningishzida @icytrickster17

[heniareth]

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH my brilliant friend you know what? First the notification that you liked the ask game came up and the jittering began BUT NOW YOU HAVE REBLOGGED!!!! PREPARE. TO BE. ASKED.!!!!! Ok now I'll ask a lot, because I'm curious about a lot, and you just pick whatever you want to answer yeah? Yeah! <3 <3 I'll put this under the cut as it's ended up quite long (you said you were on the road tmrw and I didn't know if you'd be on mobile to answer, so I wrote the prompts here so you didn't have to get out of this to go back to the list-- god help me if it turns out there's an easy way to do it and I don't know it :P) Hope you're having a grand time!!!!

NOW!!!!!! For Astala my beloved, as she is always on my mind, let me put forth requests FOR: 1 (what is their colour palette), 2 (what does their handwriting look like), 10 (what piece of moody poetry or novel quote best encompasses your character), and 22 (what is some advice or guidance they received that had a big impact on their lives or outlook? was it a positive or a negative impact)

For Ilanlas my bitey beloved, who spins in my head like he's been glued to a chair-o-plane seat, I'd like to enquire about 4 (if your OC likes art, talk about what they would like best), 8 (if your OC were to live in an alternate time period, which one would suit them best), 12 (what is their character theme song and why? if it has lyrics, pick which ones best suit them), and 24 (is mental, physical, or emotional wellbeing most important to them)

And for Marelas my brand spanking new beloved, who is shiny and taking shape so gorgeously in my head, may I ask 3 (what architectural or design aesthetic would suit them best), 9 (if your OC were to imagine their idyllic life, realistically or otherwise, what would it be like), 23 (what sort of rules, routines, and rituals do they set for themselves), and 26 (if they were to lose the person closest to them, how would they mourn them and how would they handle their grief)

Plant, lovely friend!!! I am so excited for this!!! I did end up having to drive the other day (this is why the asks are trickling out of my askbox rather than being answered all at once), but here we are!!! And such asks!!! Let's talk about the beloveds! A cut is required because this never is short (please take as long as you like with this because it’s. Really Long.)

I appreciate you putting the whole questions into the ask so much!!! It makes life easier (and asks long, but no long asks ever intimidated us, did they? XD)

Astala

1 (what is their colour palette)

Oh boy. Astala loves her colors. She usually goes for muted colors. You know, kinda something like a fall palette. Here are some examples:

When she’s at court as arlessa or as the Hero of Ferelden, however, she very deliberately wears brighter and more saturated (and thus more expensive) colors, and if there’s jewelry involved she’ll go for gold. She’s definitely flaunting her status here in front of all the shem. At the Landsmeet, she’s well known for her red dress; a callback to her first encounter with the most esteemed nobility of Ferelden (aka. Vaughan). If she’s somewhere in her capacity as Hero of Ferelden she’s restricted to blues and silvers, sadly, but she makes it work (and work very well indeed, as Zevran would add). Below are the same colors as above with higher brightness and saturation to give you an idea of what that might look like:

2 (what does their handwriting look like)

Astala, dearest Astala, started her career of doing paperwork while having a fancy title with nothing to prepare her for hours spent writing (she does know how to write, thank you very much). In the beginning, her handwriting suffers from it. She grips the pen with way to much strength and either ends up with a hole in the paper or a cramp in her hand (or both). But practice makes perfect, and after a bit of practice, her handwriting is even and orderly as can be. She tends to make her lowercase letters pretty tall and overall her writing leans to the right. If she's sending informal letters (like the one to Sten) she likes underlining the important words to accurately convey the meaning and intonation of her sentences. She's also one to use several instances of P.S. to tell the whole of what she wants to tell. Her letters are mostly always nice and structured; she's better at accounting than writing, and tables are amazing, so she makes liberal use of bullet points and the like to speed up and organize the flow of information.

10 (what piece of moody poetry or novel quote best encompasses your character)

We've got a couple different ones here, so I stitched them together!

"It is never too late to be what you might have been." —George Eliot

This quote spoke to me because Astala was supposed to be a troublemaker like her mother and live a quiet, unassuming life like her father, was supposed to get married and start a family and is now a Grey Warden.

"Nobody protects us. So we protect us." —Miriam in Dragon Age: Absolution

This one is pretty obvious. Astala is big on protecting and wholeheartedly believes in her community and the need to stick together.

"All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt." —Charles M. Schulz

This one just made me laugh XD XD Astala loves to enjoy things (regardless of whether they are luxuries or not), but she does yearn for close connections. And when she can't have them, having access to nice things is definitely a way she copes with a potential lack of close relationships

"But of course, your Excellence. A true commander takes responsability for the life and death of the men he sends into battle; it's only right and proper that he should be held accountable for them. At the first stolen chicken you may have my head." —Rankstrail in The Last Orc by Silvana de Mari (a bit of context: Rankstrail is sassing the local governor's military people bc they wanted to torture one of his soldiers over a stolen chicken. And the chicken wasn't even a fat one to begin with!)

This book series is a YA fantasy series that I stopped reading after some installments because the characters I loved the most kept dying or falling into depression with no visible way out, but it handles poverty, government incompetence and injustice beautifully. Incidentally, the government in question has a very futuristic style of architecture, and given the Italian name of the author I wonder if there are some intended parallels to a fascist government. Back to the book, Rankstrail is definitely one of my favorite characters and the whole series was very formative when I read it as a teen. I wanted to include a quote and this one stuck out to me because Astala has to navigate some authorities trying to pull one on her while sneering down on her as well. I think she and Rankstrail would find common ground in that (and in the book series the whole thing is amazing bc Rankstrail dances circles around these people but they always maintain the upper hand in the end because they have the power and the resources and he doesn't!)

22 (what is some advice or guidance they received that had a big impact on their lives or outlook? was it a positive or a negative impact?)

I've talked about how Astala has been impacted by her mother, for good and bad. Her father mostly taught her by word and by example how to look for work and keep it, as well as how to care for her family. I really should talk more about Cyrion, because obviously he had the bigger impact on her here, but I want to talk about Valendrian.

When Cyrion was still recovering emotionally from losing Adaia and physically from having spent a winter sick (half of it working), Valendrian often took the Tabris kids with him when he made his rounds around the Alienage. Other children in sinilar situations had other adult family members (aunts, uncles, grandparents, adult cousins) who could do the same; not the Tabrises, so the hahren had to step in. Working with Valendrian gave them something to do, connected them more with their people and allowed them to feel useful and capable in a situation that was very much beyond their control. He sent them to run errands for families who couldn't, to deliver medicine or food, to watch over kids, to help clean a house or a street or warehouse, or took them with him to visit people who were sick (and not contagious), alone or grieving. He also often took the scenic route to his destinations and tried to send two of them ahead or something to get time with the third one alone. With Astala he talked about her mother, about her father, about the weather, her future, Soris, Shianni, and, when she was fourteen and still helping him out, her crush on Alarith (that moment in the first chapter of her story when she offers Valendrian her help with Vaughan and Valendrian tells her to step back? That's a callback to those days, when she and her cousins used to help him all the time).

Basically, Valendrian tried to lend these three kids what support he could give them. He's Astala's reference for what leading a community looks like, and what a community is, how it works, and so forth. This comes in very handy during the Blight, but especially later, as arlessa. She is some steps further removed from her people than Valendrian was at that point, but the basic procedures stay the same.

Ilanlas

4 (if your OC likes art, talk about what they would like best)

Ilanlas is very much about statues and abstract art. I think he’d love the black and white paintings of Franz Kline. It's the kind of art where he feels like he can step into it; the feelingnis comparable to when he sees a grove of trees or a structure of rocks or a bend of the road in the distance and wants to go and check it out. These paintings form a kind of space for him where he can retreat into. It's very nice and calming.

He'd also love sculptures made out of driftwood, particularly those where the wood has been left to stay in its original shape. In his opinion, taking the raw material as it is and working with its shape instead of bending said shape to one's will is much more imaginative, creative, respectful.

And then, while snooping through the internet, I found this piece, Burning from Within by Christopher David White. It's ceramic, not wood, which is a feat in and of itself, but what Ilanlas would find amazing is the way the copper leaf on the inside really makes it look like it's wood being consumed by embers. He'd see it from the back and get all excited about it jntil he'd realize that the thibg is not a piece of a hollowed-out tree but. Y'know. The naked torso af a woman. That'd bother him a lot; the ubiquity of naked women in art in general would. Why does everything have to be about having the hots for random women? Wtf??? (He's very unimpressed by the countless Andraste statues everywhere as well. At least they're clothed.)

8 (if your OC were to live in an alternate time period, which one would suit them best)

I answered this one here! It’s kinda hard to find a time period that’d suit him. He’s so integrated in Thedas. But, now that I think of it, he would’ve had a blast in the 80s. He’d have his own painted van and everything. He and Tamlen would just take off and make a long, long roadtrip to wherever the road will take them. They'd set up camp in the middle of nowhere, stop in the desert and spend the whole night looking up at the stars, park the van in the curb of a steep mountain road to climb those extremely climbable rocks, watch the sunrise next to a gigantic waterfall that douses them from head to toe in fine spray water. Merrill comes along sometimes and has them stopping at tourist attractions, museums and canyons. Can you imagine Ilanlas with sunglasses and a bandana holding his long hair back? He’d have so much fun XD XD XD XD

That said, big aside: since the Dalish have ties to Native Americans, Roma and jewish people, all of the above might not've been possible. I don't have a lot of knowledge on the situation of these people in the 80s, in the USA and otherwise, but what little I know makes me think that Ilanlas would've been more preoccupied with travel restrictions, bad faith from the authorities and just the general population, poverty and all of its lovely companions. For his sake, I'd like that not to be so. On the other hand, erasing the past of other people is not good. I hope he does get to see at least one sunrise next to that waterfall tho

12 (what is their character theme song and why? if it has lyrics, pick which ones best suit them)

I have. Several songs I relate to this man, but here’s one. Sound the Bugle from the movie Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron.

If you lose yourself

Your courage soon will follow

So be strong tonight

Remember who you are

I don't have a lot of smart things to say here, except that he's really going through it. Where Astala is doing her damnest to eke out a place for herself, no matter how small, where she can live her life as close as possible to what it used to be, Ilanlas has thrown himself wholesale into the Grey Wardens. The only thing he keeps for himself is the right to take vengeance for Tamlen, and since that means killing darkspawn, it's not really something that detracts from his role in the order (while Astala very much does try to put as much distance between herself and the order as she can). Losing Tamlen was like losing a huge chunk of himself for Ilanlas. When he finds Tamlen again, these verses will be significant.

24 (is mental, physical, or emotional wellbeing most important to them)

I think his emotional wellbeing is the most important to him because it's the most fragile. He has a very decent pain tolerance and doesn't mind getting sweaty or having his legs full of mud after trekking through the countryside for hours. He's also good at problem-solving and decision-making generally comes easy to him (even if they're not always the best decisions).

It's the emotions that get him; some things hurt him deeply and he doesn't know what to do with that. In other instances it's just him losing his cool or being brusque and not thinking much of it, only to then turn around and find that the other person is offended and blames him. There are many people that feel things more deeply than him, and he finds it hard to understand that because to him it's no big deal. It's a bit of a vicious circle, tbh. He seriously and unwillingly hurts somebody and then gets hurt back bc the other person reacts negatively for no reason, seemingly. Or even lashes out. Long story short, it's the emotional wellbeing that bugs him the most and that is thus most important to him.

Marelas

3 (what architectural or design aesthetic would suit them best)

I think Marelas would enjoy the Arts and Crafts Movement. It's beautiful (could do with a bit warmer and more vibrant colors though), practical and it puts great emphasis on the craft of the artisan. This man enjoys having beautifully made things around him, and that's one if the tenets of the Arts and Crafts Movement. You bet he had a say in Skyhold's furnishing, much to Vivienne's chagrin. Too Dalish for her taste.

He'd also have a field day in the Library at the National Palace of Mafra, Portugal. Baroque isn't his favorite (it's very Orlesian), but this building in particular is grand, but not gaudy, well illuminated, probably very cool in summer, and has tons of space in case he wants to strew his papers around to arrange them on the floor and look at them from a certain distance to get a look at the big picture of things. He likes mind maps. Also, the building apparently houses bats!! How cool is that?

9 (if your OC were to imagine their idyllic life, realistically or otherwise, what would it be like)

Here are some of the things Marelas would love to have in his life if you’d asked him right before the plot in Trespasser kicks off:

Study lore!! So much lore!! All the history and the magic, medicine, cultures, all of it!!

Peace for clan Lavellan.

A long life for Keeper Deshanna.

Many people around him he can trust and rely on.

Frequently meet the members of the Inquisition, see what work they have been doing, maybe even continue working with them to enrich the lives of the people of Thedas (and enrich is the keyword here. He’s no fighter when he can help it. He’d rather pursue social or cultural goals).

Be able to often visit Dorian, very often (the separation hit him hard, harder than he wants to admit. He thinks it commendable and a good thing that Dorian wants to better his homeland, but at the moment when Dorian told him he was leaving, Marelas did feel a bit abandoned in favor of more exciting pursuits. He and Dorian did have the chance to talk it through, however, and have settled on an arrangement that, so far, is satisfying to both. Still, he misses Dorian).

Not have any world-ending threats hanging above his head.

Foster more community between the city elves and the Dalish clans (I think somebody from his family came from the city, probably an uncle who married into his mother’s side of the family).

23 (what sort of rules, routines, and rituals do they set for themselves)

Back at his clan, his routine looked something like this:

Wake up, have a handful of something, pray alone.

Do some stretching, have some real breakfast, revise what has to be done that day with Keeper Deshanna and the clan’s Second, and start. He sometimes works alone, sometimes they all work together or in pairs. They have a well-honed system.

Part of his routine is taking a round of the premises (wherever he is) and see how everybody is doing. He tends to do that around mealtime, after getting some work in.

If somebody wants to converse with him, he will tend to schedule it in the afternoon, preferrably right after having eaten lunch and taken a bit of quiet time to himself, or when the sun is already lowering towards the horizon. He finds these are hours best spent quietly, and that they lend themselves more to thinking than to doing.

He will also pray alone in the evening, right after dinner if he can manage. He will go over the day, write up things that have to be done next (either the following day or at some point in the future), offer up the good and the bad, and enjoy the quiet as the sun sets and the stars start to shine.

Prayer is very important to him, and throughout the day there would be more opportunities, mostly with Keeper Deshanna and clan Lavellan’s Second. He tries his best to keep this routine after the explosion at the Conclave, although Keeper Deshanna and clan Lavellan’s Second are replaced by Cullen, Josephine and Leliana. He does miss the more relaxed rhythm of the life in his clan, but he makes do well. It is strange to him to be at the head of a group instead of the leader’s right hand. He takes responsability quite seriously and the biggest break in his routine is him doing paperwork until way later than he intended. Sometimes, it’s almost a relief when he can leave Skyhold to go roam around Thedas.

Another big interruption to his routine can be any sort of magical or historical study that catches his interest. He’s an academic at heart. In the Jaws of Hakkon DLC, he was happy as a clam at first, searching for Inquisitor Ameridan, and even in the Descent DLC he would rather have spent time studying the runes on the wall than investigating the earthquakes. The Emerald Graves were a treasure trove (albeit a bitter one). If there’s a piece of work that captures his interest, he will get his duties done, sure. But later you’ll find him writing deep into the night. Sometimes his room looks like a tornado came through and scattered complex diagrams and drawings throughout. This turns a bit unhealthy after he drinks of the Well of Sorrows. He now has direct access to knowledge from Arlathan, and he considers it one of his duties to record EVERYTHING the well tells him. He ends up with incoherent scribbles more often than not, but at other points he wrote down a poem, sketched a view from the temple of Sylaise, found a recipe to help with some kind of cough, found hints of an old technique to enrich iron, and so forth. It’s fascinating, but dangerous. More than once, somebody else had to take the pen out of his hand and send him to bed, or otherwise bring him back to reality.

26 (if they were to lose the person closest to them, how would they mourn them and how would they handle their grief)

Ooooh, this is a heavy one. Let's do it >:)

Okay, first of all, Marelas would nowadays have been diagnosed with some form of anxiety disorder (or maybe even PTSD, since the symptoms manifested after an accident in which he nearly drowned). As part of dealing with persistent worries, intense fears of danger and death, and with a generalized feeling of helplessness and loss of control, Keeper Deshanna encouraged him to seek special connection with Falon'Din. The reasoning was that if he died, Falon'Din would be there; he wouldn't be alone. Take away some of the fear that death inspired, and everything would be much easier to deal with; that was Deshanna's reasoning. After all of that and all the events in Inquisition, Marelas likes to think of himself as someone who is familiar with grief and who knows that a loss such as this one will take time to heal. He will do his best to be patient and lean on other loved ones for support, to give himself time, to cherish the memories while stepping out of himself to create new ones. And he does good! He tries his best! He is able to step away from the moment, take a deep breath and brace himself for the things that are to come and he is able to stay moderately aware of his own wellbeing during the period of intense turmoil that follows the death of a loved one.

The reality, however, is that he's a very sensitive man who feels things deeply and for a very long time. He might be patient, experienced and good at taking his own feelings at face value, but his emotions are stubborn buggers. He'll most likely spend a couple of days numb, think that it's going better than he anticipated, until reality catches up to him and everything comes crashing down. After that, he will cry, a lot, but try to keep some of it to himself. He does occupy a position of responsibility after all, and he has to keep doing his work.

In fact, although he knows that giving himself time to actively grieve is important, he definitely puts his role as First (or the Keeper if it's Keeper Deshanna who died), well... first. If Keeper Deshanna died, he would even officiate the funeral. Embodying the figure of the First/Keeper removes him from his pain by focusing on other people's pain, although that's not the only reason why he blends into his role in the clan. He does genuinely want to help. It is, however, part of the reason why he spends some days functioning well while emotionally numb. He's not entirely conscious that he does this, and there's no easy answer here because he does have a responsability for the well-being of the clan. He does best when he has somebody that will step past the whole "he is responsible for everybody" thing and makes him contemplate how he is doing as a person. Hold a mirror in front of him, so to say. So yeah, that's him if somebody close to him from his clan dies.

If Dorian died... well, that's a whole other thing. He doesn't have any official role to disappear behind here, although he definitely would find something to try and occupy himself with. He'd definitely be at the funeral, and he'd definitely ask if he could help with anything. But he's out of his depth in Tevinter, and he's Dorian's partner from down south. Despite his best efforts, he'll have everybody's attention and he'll be at an utter loss on what to do.

So he'd do his best to hold his tears in and cry when he's alone. He'd try to meet Dorian's friends and family and establish at least a bit of a positive relationship with them. And in the process, he'd probably have at least one moment where he'd crack under the pressure and either run away or cry somewhere totally inappropriate and end up mortified and with all the pain spilling out.

All of this, of course, if Dorian or Keeper Deshanna didn't get assassinated. In that case his new mission would be hunting those bastards down, and that's what he'd stand behind until the emotions one day suddenly catch up to him. And he’d go for it with a lot of zeal. He isn’t an easy one to anger, but when he is angry, it holds for a long time.

After having digested the heap of emotions, he does his best to celebrate the person he's lost. He's quite meticulous about marking death-days, and consciously makes space on those days to remember and honor the deceased. He might put up an altar with things that remind him of them and spend a good chunk of the day reminiscing and talking to them (without receiving an answer of course. He might be a mage, but communion with the dead is rare). And he would honor them by trying to help along whatever efforts they pursued in life, if the chance presents itself. Falon'Din is still a god he holds in high regard, even if after Trespasser the elven gods as a whole are unstable ground to him, and honoring the dead is very important to him.

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And that’s a wrap on these three! I hope the wait was worth it, and if you’ve read the whole thing, kudos to you! This was a very nice brain exercise XD XD XD It was really cool to get to know Ilanlas’s taste in art, tbh. I had a vague idea, but now I really want to sit down with him and talk about modern art. There’s a lot to go into there (starting with what the devil IS art??) and it’d be so interesting to hear what he likes and doesn’t like. Thank you so so so much for these wonderful questions!!!! I hope you are having an absolutely splendid few days!