#some drivel for the dash tonight

[chapinii]

Q!Fit is used to loss. He's used to meeting people he knows won't be sticking around, used to putting on a brave face when they inevitably disappear or are killed beyond the point of respawn. It's collateral damage, part of the day job. Nothing new in the toxic landscape of 2B2T. There's no time to explore any kind of feelings towards anybody else, he's learnt over time that attachments are more often than not futile. Care about something, someone, and it may well be used against you.

His time on Quesadilla island has been different, however. This time he doesn't have that threat, he shouldn't have that threat. This was supposed to be just another mission, a vacation even. Gathering player data is an easy job. The players in question, however, he never imagined himself getting so close to.

Fit never saw himself as a father, in fact, he was lucky to have made it to the age he was now. He was so sure he'd die by the sword. A mercenary, stalking in the shadows of a lava-cast wasteland, both hunter and prey, wearing a bandana around his face to shield himself from the TNT dust which never seemed to settle around him. And now he ties that same bandana around the neck of a boy, his son, an egg so fragile and yet so much like himself. Though a lump still held in his throat when he looked for too long at the boy who played so innocently in the open air, he found solace in knowing that Ramon, unlike him, would grow up surrounded by trust. Against all expectation he'd found himself in a place where (however fucked up behind the scenes it may be) community is everything, and where within it, people are allowed to just Be. He could allow this distraction, his son wouldn't affect the mission too much. His guard was finally, slowly, being let down.

And then along came this strange, slightly unhinged and wonderful man, whose wide excited eyes looked at him with so much admiration and unwavering loyalty. He wasn't used to being seen as human. He hated how easy it felt to push down the guilt of being perceived as such. This vulnerability was new to him, but after keeping so much internalised over the years, he welcomed it. The notion of love was an alien concept back there, where the desires for chaos and destruction were almost carnal in nature. This feeling towards Pac was unlike any other he'd ever felt, a soft and tender mutual understanding of one another. He knew as much about Pac as Pac did about him, and they enjoyed keeping it that way. Even as they were forced to fight against each-other, Fit had taken pride in his roommate's skill and precision in combat, and, even as that competition amped up, he knew all too well the measures that must be taken to survive, and vowed to protect him all the same. Now they were back on the island he enjoyed being the one to stand back for once, he'd admire as Pac would run on ahead with all sorts of plans for the two of them, and bask in the fofoca he would return with for their morning crew.

Of course, the bated breath that still held in his throat was yet to disperse. He'd been the one to help break Pac and Mike out of prison. He sat with Mike and reassured him when Pac was kidnapped. Through Tazercraft he'd come to understand the concept of soulmates, someone you share a bond with throughout your life, platonic or not. He'd also come to know the true meaning of 'saudades', the deep feeling of longing and melancholy that comes with missing something or someone. He didn't want to admit it was something he'd felt all throughout his life. Living on the island had prepared him and Pac for those types of situations, and God knows 2B2T had whacked the mindset into him tenfold. But it didn't make this time hurt any less. Fit had finally set a date with Pac for Friday, albeit a somewhat rearranged one. They were so caught up in everything, in each-other. Things finally seemed to have been looking up for them, and then everything was ripped apart once more. Fit resented not having kept his guard up, for letting himself slip, and not being able to protect Pac before it was too late. He was gone.

That was why taking things slow was so important, he had told Ramon. You can't rush into these things, lest you lose everything for good.

Fit is used to loss. It's all part of the day job.

[potassium-pilot]

FFXIVWrite 2023, Prompt 23: Suit

Aymeric browsed the shops of the Jeweled Crozier, simply looking for ingredients for dinner tonight and to surprise Dia with a gift. As he searched with the jeweler, he heard them: a group of women giggling in the corner.

There was a small part of him that hoped that their laughter wasn’t directed at him.

“Isn’t the Lord Speaker handsome?” he heard one of them whisper.

His hopes were dashed.

In an effort to avoid embarrassing himself further, he kept pretending as though he heard nothing. The women were whispering amongst themselves, and not doing a very good job at concealing their gossip.

“Shame he’s not interested in a more appropriate suitor for his position.”

“The Savior of Ishgard must feel very lucky. At least, I hope she does, or I should be rather cross with her.”

“Oh, I think she does, indeed. Have you heard some of the noises that leave Borel Manor on some nights?”

That last comment was enough to send the girls back into a laughing fit, and to make Aymeric’s face red as a rolanberry.

“Are you well, my lord? Your face…” asked the merchant.

“I’m fine, thank you. The ruby brooch, if you would be so kind.”

The merchant prepared the brooch, Aymeric paid him, and he left quickly. Upon his return to the manor, he found Angelbert, his head steward, working on preparing tea, and Dia working on weaving something at the settee. She was too injured still for longer trips out in the cold, but her physical therapy brought her to a point where she could move about the house with aid. No longer was she restricted to the bed.

“Hi!” she greeted brightly.

“Hello”, he greeted back with his own smile.

“Ooh, is that dinner in your bag?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“Pray allow me to return it to the kitchen, my lord”, Angelbert insisted, making his way to Aymeric and taking hold of his bag.

“Thank you.”

“Certainly. ‘Twas my job once, after all. But Mistress Sito’s care takes the utmost priority.” With that, Angelbert left for the kitchen.

Aymeric sat down next to Dia, who looked at him and noticed something off. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Could I…could I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“When you were here, before you left for Sharlayan and earned your injuries against Zenos, was there anyone here in Ishgard you liked to speak with regularly? Aside from me?”

“Definitely. The Manufactory was a frequent haunt to work on machinistry with Steve and Hilda and Joye, I’d bother Gibrillont for his bread recipe, I’d take tea with Edmont and Artoirel, I started having drinks with Lucia before she left for Garlemald, I would talk with Francel while crafting in the Firmament. I’m not lonely when I’m here if that’s what you’re wondering. They’ve all visited me at one point or another too.”

“Glad am I that you’re not lonely, but does that mean you’ve never been particularly interested in…high society, as it were?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve never thought what it would be like to be a part of it?”

Dia shook her head. “I’ve lived in House Fortemps for years, in case you forgot. I’ve seen what happens in high society in Ishgard and I’m not interested.”

“I see. So you’ve never felt outcast by anyone?”

“Not really. Even if I’m forsaken by some noble houses, the people I like seem to like me back, so I’m better off with them rather than trying to worm my way into somewhere I don’t belong.”

Aymeric smiled. “Good, good.”

“Why do you ask?”

He blushed. “There was…some gossip of sorts.”

“You listen to that?”

“Not on purpose, mind you. I had overheard it while shopping.”

“Oh?”

“Supposedly, some wonder if I have taken an appropriate partner for my station, and while I would never agree with such drivel, it had me wonder if this has affected you at all.”

Dia scowled. “Pieces of shite. They said that out loud? While you were there?”

Aymeric nodded.

“Spinner…no, don’t worry about it affecting me. I’m an outsider, after all, even if Ishgard’s doors are open. I was doomed the moment I was born outside of Ishgard’s noble houses. Worry about it affecting you. You’re the one that has to deal with it.”

Aymeric let out a relieved breath. “I’m glad to hear that. I know how to approach this nonsense, and I shan’t let it come back to you in any way.”

Dia smiled.

“I got you something, too.”

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that, Ayms.”

“But I wished to. Worry not.” He held out the box from his inventory and gave it to her. Dia opened it and found the brooch laying in it.

“Aw…thank you! This is pretty.”

As she had started working on goldsmithing, she had more than a few problems with the quality, but she wasn’t going to tell Aymeric about it. In the meantime, she kissed his cheek and placed the brooch in her inventory.

[yespolkadotkitty]

The Angel’s Share, chp. 13

Find past chapters here

Written with the incomparable @hopelessromanticspoonie​

Kate had obviously lost her only remaining marble.

What made her think that putting on her finest little black dress and swiping some mascara onto her dark eyelashes would be all she needed to fit in with Thomas’ crowd? Every bit of her wanted to tear off the soft, clingy dress, throw on her most comfortable set of pyjamas and veg out in front of the telly.

The buzz of her doorbell jolted her from her spiraling train of thought and she hissed after poking herself in the side of her neck with the stud of her earrings. “Fuck. Coming!”

She should have cleaned up before he arrived, Kate thought as she glanced around the cramped living area of her one bedroom flat. It wasn’t messy, no, but the small space appeared pretty cluttered when full to the brim with overloaded bookshelves and mismatched furniture. Glaring daggers at the dirtied mug and bowl from her quick lunch, she was all too aware of how drastically their living situations differed.

His chocolate-dipped voice easily made it through her thin front door when raised in concern. “Kate?”

No time to do a last minute tidy up. She yanked open her front door and her jaw dropped at the absolutely delicious sight of Thomas in a razor sharp black suit and tie. His head lifted from where he had been staring at the grubby concrete entryway and it felt so cliche, but her heart stopped at the soft, awestruck shine in his fine blue eyes.

“You look..” he appeared to struggle for the proper descriptor as he closed the distance between them to press a soft kiss to the crown of her carefully curled hair.

The nerves nagging her endlessly lessened some at the press of his large hands over her upper arms and the familiar wash of his spicy, citrusy cologne. “Way too hot to be your date, I know. I need to get my shoes and then I’ll be ready. Okay?”

“I will await you with bated breath.”

He tossed out such romantic nonsense like that with such earnest ease that she had no choice but to take him seriously. Her hand squeezed his quickly before she rushed back to her bedroom to slip on her nicest black flats and tuck her cellphone into her only nice clutch (thankfully also black).

“Who is Edmund Evans?”

The only slightly anxious smile fell from her face as she left the bedroom to see Thomas holding a folded up letter with a ring of condensation wrinkling the paper. Dread hung low in her stomach and she swallowed. “My sperm donor. Where did you find that?”

His eyes tightened with that feral fury she had glimpsed in the distillery. “I did not want this foul piece of filth ruining the coffee mug I found atop it. Does he say such awful things to you in each month’s letter?”

“I don’t typically read them,” she admitted, her eyes focusing on the clench of his hands as he crushed the paper in his grip. “But when I used to, he did, yeah.”

The low growl of his voice rumbled through her to clench low in her belly. “I would very much like to acquaint him with my fist.”

“He means nothing. Come on, GQ, let’s go drink some free whiskey and pretend that we actually care about some uptight blowhards.”

“Well. When you put it so nicely.”

*****

Anxiety gripped her after the door to his sleek, black car closed behind them with a wink from Andy. Her hand tightened in the crook of Thomas’ arm as they joined the swell of socialites smiling too brightly in sky high heels, men leering at them down the line of their upturned noses. 

Kate didn’t belong here. It was too much. What if Derrick was here? He would pick her out amongst his manicured ranks right away. Thomas would see that she wasn’t good enough for him or his lifestyle and toss her on her shapely ass, leaving her heart in tatters before the shined soles of his slick shoes.

“Breathe, Kate.” His head dipped down low to whisper the words against the shell of her ear. “It is they who are unworthy of you. Now how about a bit of liquid courage?”

It was much easier to play the part of soulless arm candy with the warmth of fine whiskey buzzing beneath her skin. She slipped into the familiar role of smiles, meaningless platitudes, and forced laughter as if she had never left. Thomas was as charming as ever, chatting up businessmen with pound signs in their eyes upon the exchange of business cards and handshakes.

“Allow me to refresh your beverage, sir. Excuse me one moment.”

She watched Thomas walk away with only a slight amount of hesitation before shifting her attention back to the distribution magnate across from her. Holding the glass against her lips with soft music playing beneath the din, her stomach filled with finicky finger foods and smokey liquor, catching the hint of Thomas’ cologne lingering against her skin from his parting kiss to her cheek, she was almost able to enjoy herself. When the conversation shifted to the dashing man currently bellying up to the bar, her forced grin gained a hint of sincerity.

“He is a fine young man and a driven businessman.”

Kate nodded automatically and did a quick, cursory sweep around the wood-paneled lounge. She recognized no one, and it appeared as if everyone who was anyone had arrived for the high-brow event. Affection slipped honey into her words and pulled her rouged lips into a true smile, “He is indeed. As a bar mana-”

“Is he alright?”

The concern in her companion’s tone jerked her gaze over to the bar where Thomas stood ramrod straight, glaring daggers at a man currently invisible to her for the thickness of the crowd. Even from such a distance she could easily pick out the tension pulling his shoulders back. Shit.

“Excuse me.”

She pushed her way through the crowd, uncaring if the whiskey clutched in her white-knuckled hand spilled for the unease rabbiting her heartbeat in her throat. Whatever had happened, they needed to shut it down immediately. She recognized the beginnings of a fight when she saw one, and this was not the time nor the place for it. Too much was on the line for Crimson Peak.

“Thomas, what are you-”

Her worried words died in her throat as she stepped up to his side and lighted a hand upon the tight muscles of his back. The ghost that had haunted her for the entirety of her life, staring back at her from newspapers and tabloids alike, scowled at her in the ruddy, pock-mocked flesh.

She hardly noticed her hand losing its hold on her tumbler, or the sound of shattering of glass as whiskey splashed against her bare legs. “Dad?”

****

Thomas glanced from the jumped-up toff before him to Kate, her face pale and drawn. So this old coot was his precious Kate’s father. Or, sperm donor, as she had so eloquently put it.

Edmund Evans might have been a dapper looking man in his youth, but he’d run to fat now, too much indulgence having bloated his waistline and given him sallow, overfed skin and jowls.

The older man had approached him to talk about Crimson Peak, and Thomas had been chatting away politely until the toff introduced himself. Evans had offered his hand, and Thomas had looked at it, and said “I’d rather not.”

That’s when Kate had arrived.

She looked a vision tonight. Easily worth twenty of these over-coiffed socialite girls. Kate was upfront and honest and real, and in some ways he wished he’d met her before, but perhaps his younger self wouldn’t have been worthy of her.

“Something wrong?” Evans asked, his lips slightly stained with red wine. Then he turned, having belatedly heard his daughter.

Kate looked at Thomas, stricken, and her eyes said no, no, don’t, but Kate had spent her entire life being cast aside as if she didn’t matter, and if Thomas had anything to say about it, it ended here.

“Katherine. What are you doing here?” Evans asked, as if she was a waiter rather than a guest.

“She’s here with me.” Thomas beckoned Kate over, but she stood stock still, a deer in headlights. He’d never seen her so…. cowed, and the shock of it made his anger burn even brighter, lighting a furious fire in his heart. “She is here as my guest, and as such you may not speak to her unless she gives her express permission, are we clear?”

Evans looked from Thomas to his daughter, surprise flickering over his jowly face. “Snagged a rich one here, haven’t you, Katherine? Your mother would be so very proud.”

Kate’s mouth fell open, her face rosy with embarrassment. 

Thomas advanced on Evans, looking down his nose at the shorter man, making his expression as icy cold as possible. The rest of the people at the event dropped away, and Thomas’ world narrowed to his desire to give Kate justice.

"Do you have the faintest idea of the brilliant, bright, self-sufficient woman you're missing out on, Evans? Do you? How strong and capable and smart and beautiful she is? I hope you know she neither needs nor wants you in her life, you charlatan."

Kate’s father smirked. “Oh yes, she’s got your wrapped around her little finger, all right. Actually, not so little, by the looks of it. You feeding her as part of the deal?” He shook his head, amused. “Just a whore like her mother, using you for your-”

In the next heartbeat he was on the ground, flat out.

Thomas swore at the pain ripping through his hand, but the sting and soreness was worth it to have flattened the bastard’s nose.

Evans lay on the floor, writhing pathetically, moaning. A few people looked in curiously, but at Thomas’ stone cold glare, no one intervened.

After a second, Thomas knelt on the floor, got right up in the toff’s face. “If you ever write to Kate again, if you ever contact her, I will make you sorry you ever accepted tonight’s invitation, and I will not even have to lift a finger to do it, understand? I will eviscerate you in society. I will ensure that copies of the drivel you write to her are published all over London.”

Evans took a shaky breath intending to speak, but Thomas wasn’t done. 

“From now on, if you arrive at an event and you see Kate there, you turn around and leave. Are. We. Clear?”

Evans clutched his nose and nodded weakly, blood leaking from between his thick fingers.

Thomas stood up, dusting off his trousers as if brushing away unpleasantness. He rounded Evans’ body and offered his arm to Kate. “Shall we, my dear?”

Kate closed her mouth, and blinked a few times, recovering. “Wow. You have a mean right hook, GQ.”

He opened his hand and flexed his fingers. “I’ve actually never punched anyone before. It’s…. rather painful.”

Kate lifted his sore hand and brushed her lips over his bruised knuckles. “Let’s get you some ice for that hand. C’mon, sweetheart.”

Thomas’ mood lifted even more as she led him to the bathrooms. “You called me sweetheart.”

A smile curved her lips, so kissable, and he couldn’t resist just dipping his head for a moment, and tasting the honeyed whiskey on her mouth. 

Her hand tucked into his elbow and squeezed, as she said cheekily, “Haven’t we established that I don’t hate you?”

Tagging (series): @rjohnson1280​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @villainousshakespeare​ @wolfsmom1 @arch-venus25​ @tamstrugglestowrite​ @trickstersteve​ @lucantis @exygon​ @kneel-before-queen-loki​ @lots-of-loki​

Polkadotkitty’s taglist: @myoxisbroken​ @palaiasaurus64​ @littlemissthistle​ @mary-ann84​ @pinkzsugar​ @peakygroupie​ @just-the-hiddles​ @lovesmesomehiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​

[vera-simik]

Wanted: The Witcher. Status: Urgent

Ok. I did it. I finally translated it all. So there it is - my super weird multi-crossover crack-fic, because honestly? Almost everything I ever wrote is more or less crack-fic 😅

Proceed on your own risk  😅

(early morning)

(OK, fine, let’s be honest – NOT so early)

(Vědmi and Erik are sitting in the kitchen, both have a mug of a hot beverage in front of them; Vědmi is also messing around with a small pile of papers)

(Andy comes in)

Andy: “I bid you good morning.”

Erik: (waves sort of disinterestedly) “Mornin’.”

Vědmi: (mumbles something, doesn’t glance up from her work)

Andy: “Judging by her expression, Geralt hasn’t shown up yet.”

Erik: “What a pity you didn’t place a bet. You’d win.”

Andy: “Ah… So, she’s creating WHAT exactly?”

Erik: “Do you remember when she said that if the witcher wouldn’t show up in two days, she’d have to act?”

Andy: “… yes?”

Erik: “She started to create wanted posters.”

Vědmi: “Alright, you two. (puts papers aside) You can stop talking about me as if I weren’t here, and tell me instead – how does this sound? (clears her throat) Have you seen this witcher? Responds to the name Geralt of Rivia. If you find him, be so kind and punch him in the face. (looks at her companions) So? What do you think?”

(both men remain silent)

Erik: “Well…”

Andy: “Perhaps I would word it in less emotive w-“

(suddenly, a portal opens in the kitchen, and Geralt stumbles out of it, slightly green in the face)

Vědmi: (with a mischievous grin on her face) “Aaa, look who FINALLY decided to join us! And as I see, unspeakably wasted!”

Geralt: (mutters) “Be so kind and stop screeching. You’re worse than an echidna, and I, moreover, have a feeling like I could even hear the colours.”

Vědmi: “And why are you acting so surprised, with such a hangover? Shame on you! What am I supposed to tell your wife when she comes here and sees you like this?”

Geralt: (takes a seat at the table) (in puzzlement) “Why would Yen come here? Are you two planning on doing something here or what?”

Vědmi: (facepalm) “And he’s asking! You said yourself that your anniversary is approaching, and then you asked me if I could do you a favor and write it down to the calendar in case you’d forget! You wanted to take her out tonight, and you were pretty damn secretive about it. That’s why we wanted to launch a hunt for you! (points at the pile of wanted posters)”

Geralt: (looks a bit uncertain) “Tonight? Are you sure? How long was I gone?”

Erik: “Longer than you think, mon ami. Did Regis make a new brew of his mandrake moonshine again?”

Andy: „Whatever it was, I suppose it was quite impressive. A witcher with a mild alcohol poisoning… I don’t think it’s something you can see every day.“

Geralt: (waves hand in a dismissive manner) „Eh… it’s not… I don’t wanna talk about it, it’s not very int-“

Vědmi: „Oh no, no, no, keep talking, we’re all ears.“

Geralt: „Ugh, as you wish. Dandelion had the – you know – bachelor party, and – I admit – maybe, just MAYBE it took a bit longer than we planned, and…“

(everyone’s silent for a moment)

Erik: „P-perhaps I did not understand correctly? WHAT happened to Dandelion?“

Vědmi: (shrieks out) „The oaf’s gonna get married?!“

Geralt: (slightly tormented expression) „I begged you to stop screeching…“

Vědmi: (ignoring witcher’s headache) „So he really wants to get hitched… That’s impossible…“

Andy: „And who’s the poor unfortunate soul he talked into it?“

Vědmi: „Crystal clear it’s Priscilla. Am I right? (pokes Geralt) Don’t sleep, and tell him I’m right!“

Geralt: „Does it look to you like anyone could fall asleep here when SOMEONE’s still shouting? (to Andy) And of course, it’s Priscilla. Or did you think he managed to smooth Annarietta’s ruffled feathers?“

Erik: (laughs in his sleeve) „Or worse – Vespula’s?“

Vědmi: “My, my! Someone’s very well versed in latest gossips, am I right, monsieur le phantôm?”

Erik: “Oh please. I know the details just because this shrew and my María know each other. As for me, I could live even without this knowledge.”

Andy: “María indeed knows almost everyone. No offense, of course.”

Geralt: “Could we PLEASE get back to much more serious matter than why and from where do whose partners know each other? Mine will skin me alive when she sees me in this state! (more or less to himself) Damn, Vesemir was right once again, when he said we shouldn’t drink so much because we would regret it later. But is it my fault Zoltan fetched that archival Mahakam spirit immediately after that?”

Vědmi: “Can’t you just, I don’t know, brew yourself the Wives’ Tears of something like that?”

Geralt: “Look… the fact I’m sitting here, talking to you in a way that somehow makes sense, doesn’t mean a thing. I haven’t felt this sick as long as I can remember. And I’m not entirely sure what will happen the moment I’ll try to get up. I’d throw up into the pot before I could even try to brew something in it, most likely.”

Erik: (to Vědmi) “I’d LOVE to know how the rest of the participants ended up.”

Andy: (gets up) “I can’t stand by any longer, Geralt. Come on, I think I have something that would help you down in the laboratory.” (leaves the room)

(Geralt slowly and carefully follows him, Vědmi and Erik remain in the kitchen)

(they’re sitting in silence for a while)

Erik: “Don’t look at me like that. We should have figured out sooner that Dandelion and Zoltan were involved in this.”

Vědmi: “Meh, I don’t give a hoot about who wrecked him like this. He could be drinking with every single one of those dum-dums of the Wild Hunt for all I care, he’s an adult, and as such, he should know that excessive drinking equals headache. I agree with Vesemir almost every time, and I don’t intend to make any exceptions this time. Don’t drink, don’t regret it afterward. But that’s not what’s on my mind.”

Erik: “Then what… Wait, let me guess. Is it because you had an itch for Dandelion?”

Vědmi: (deadly serious) “Tell me this was just a weak attempt to make a remarkably stupid joke because otherwise, I’m giving you a ten-second head start. Drogo helped me retrieve all of the knives which fell behind the stove about a week ago.”

Erik: (raises hands in a defensive gesture) “Keep calm. As you say, it’s just a stupid joke. But it HAS something to do with the bard, non?”

Vědmi: “I’m mostly nice to that fool, in bounds of possibility, and I haven’t told him he’s a nitwit and a skirt chaser to his face for more than a year! For fun nor seriously! And he doesn’t even send me an invitation!”

Erik: “So, is this the only thing that’s troubling you?”

Vědmi: “Tsk. ‘The only thing,’ he says. Hm…  Do you think it could be due to that one time three years ago when we stole his lute, and then we sent it back to him one string at a time?”

Erik: “To our – and your especially – defence, I need to add that he was flirting with you in a very indiscreet way. And this was quite adequate retribution. I think he didn’t invite you more likely because he remembers very well when we tied him up with those strings for a similar offence, and that Nuada and NoName sang an intentionally off-key version of Dornishman’s Wife to torture him a bit more. I can’t help it, but I think you didn’t even try to stop them.”

Vědmi: (considers it) “Maybe you’re right… Oh! Or is it because of that other time when I dashed the leftovers of the disgusting old soup at him because he was serenading me underneath the window?”

Erik: “When I’m thinking of it now… We’re giving him fairly hard time, aren’t we?”

Vědmi: (theatrically) “Living amongst the group of fictional villains is corrupting me!”

Erik: “I see myself more like an antihero, and I could argue over this too. And don’t make yourself look like a victim, because you’re not innocent either. Should I remind to you some of these ideas came from your head?”

Vědmi: “Ha! Such an insult! If Andy were here, he’d stand up for me for sure!”

Erik: “But Anderien is out of question. To tell the truth, I’m not entirely sure he could…”

Vědmi: (with a bit of “Creator’s Sense of Guilt” in her voice) “Mind what you’re saying, you could be in for a nasty surprise. He had certain moments in life where you wouldn’t want to get into his ha-“

(once again, another portal opens in the kitchen)

Vědmi: (bangs the table with her fist) “Oh come on now! What kind of manners is this, turning my kitchen into interchange…”

(out of the portal comes Yennefer; it doesn’t look like she’s in a good mood)

Vědmi: “… station. Mornin’?”

Erik: “Eeh… bonjour, madame Yennefer?”

Yennefer: “Where is he?!”

Vědmi: (immediately turns the posters blank side up and quickly tries to gloss over Geralt’s absence) “Honestly? We weren’t expecting you to come here so soon! I thought you were meant to arrive in the evening! And I’d take a guess Gery didn’t expect you so soon either… He went to… went to…”

Yennefer: “Well?!”

Erik: “To take a shower.”

Vědmi: “To get the flowers. (looks at Erik) (kind of desperately) Wait for a second, he said he’s going to take a shower right after the afternoon coffee!”

Erik: “You wait! He wanted to get the flowers when he’s done showering!”

Vědmi: “Uh-oh…”

Yennefer: “If only you weren’t driveling… I know very well what he’s been doing. When it comes to that half-witted bard, what else could they be up to? Invoking the djinn?!”

Vědmi: (snickers) “Yeah, gin was probably involved too.” (discreetly puts the pile of posters out of sorceress’ sight)

Yennefer: “What do you have here?”

Vědmi: “Eee… nothing. I was drawing… a bit…”

Yennefer: (takes a seat) “He was supposed to let me know after he’d left that party. Don’t look at me like this. After the pogrom in Rivia, I tend to worry about Geralt a lot more.”

Erik: “Our dear witcher didn’t think this through, I agree completely. But why didn’t you go to look for him – let’s say – at Kaer Morhen?”

Yennefer: “Do you suppose I didn’t already go there? At the first go! Wait, no. At the second go, actually. At first, I went to look for him at that Dandelion’s tavern in Novigrad. I almost caused Zoltan a heart attack. Nevertheless, they told me Geralt already left and sent me right to Kaer Morhen.”

Vědmi: “Now this is picking up speed. Do you want some coffee? Why am I asking, you do for sure. Black with milk, am I right?”

Yennefer: (curtly nods and continues) “When I saw how Eskel and Lambert came out of this event, I knew it wouldn’t be realistic to expect Geralt would be better off no matter how. There are only three places he tends to spend a lot of time at, and since your house is the last one I didn’t already check out, it would be a huge coincidence if he didn't come back here, either. (sighs) I’m going to lose my mind because of him one day.”

Erik: “I think you're a bit too severe on him.”

Vědmi: “Yeah, that poor fellow doesn’t really deserve this… today. I don’t want to defend him, he sure has a lot of imperfections, but I’m ready to vouch for him right now.”

Erik: “He probably just forgot to let you know, it happens even to the best of us… ehm…”

Vědmi: (pokes the phantom to the ribs) (under her voice) “Don’t overdo it, I bet there’s a lot of things you don’t want María to find out…”

Erik: (ignores Vědmi) “She’s babbling again, it happens a lot, don’t listen to her, it’s not worth it. But what did I want to say before she interrupted me? Ah, oui. Geralt forgot to let you know. And as I mentioned, it happens. See, a lot going on – I mean, there’s this anniversary of yours, his best friend is going to get married… And I admit, he did drink, indeed.  But only a bit, and then he got back here quite early.”

Vědmi: (latches on Erik’s improvisation) “Masked weirdo over here’s right. You have not only one, but three witnesses of Geralt’s arrival!”

Yennefer: (slightly ironically) “It's not like I didn't believe what you two are saying, but where do you have the third one?”

Erik: “It’s Anderien Ettreasil, you must have heard of him.”

Yennefer: “That half-elven alchemist? Well, I sometimes do trade with him. Sure, he’s quite trustworthy, but..”

Vědmi: “Exactly! Right now, he and Gery are doing something down in the lab. (ostentatiously pretends to be offended) And they didn’t even let ME to join them! It’s gotta be some sort of surprise, believe me!"

(sound of the opened door can be heard; in a moment, Andy and Geralt are coming in the kitchen) (Geralt’s in a significantly better and more sober state than he was in after he got out of the portal)

Vědmi: “Great! And now there are all of us this situation applies to!”

Geralt: (expectably surprised) “Yen! What are you doing here? We weren’t expecting you to come here so soon…”

Erik: (gives Vědmi a wink) “Where did I hear this today?”

Yennefer: (stands up from the table, folds her arms) (surprisingly calmly) “Geralt of Rivia.”

Vědmi: (to Erik and Andy) (half seriously) “Uh-oh, she called him by his full name! All hell’s going to break loose!”

Yennefer: “I always thought you’re a self-dependent grown man. And that you know what does it mean when we agree on something.”

Geralt: (you can tell from his look that he wishes to be somewhere else)

Andy: “Well… I’d better be going, I’m not sure if I put the burner out…” (prepares to beat a retreat in a very diplomatic way)

Erik: “No, no, stay here. This is going to get interesting.”

Yennefer: (ignores all of the distractions and continues) “After all, I even believed you could even be responsible. And meanwhile, you're even worse than our daughter. She at least lets me know whenever she gets held up somewhere and knows when she's getting back home.”

Geralt: “But Yen…”

Yennefer: “Do I look like I finished speaking?! This one’s for disappearing and not letting me know about your whereabouts, leaving me worried sick!” (slaps Geralt)

(Geralt, because he knows he “earned” it, handles the slap with at least some dignity)

(two thirds of the onlookers, on the other hand, react greatly exaggerated)

Vědmi: (overacts covering her eyes) “Holy shiP!”

Erik: (with extremely false concern in his voice) “Oww, this might HURT!”

Yennefer: “And this one…”

(everyone’s getting for the worst – Vědmi even above her usual “fondness” towards other people’s misfortune)

Yennefer: (no one’s expecting her kissing Geralt on the same cheek where she slapped him before) “… is for your effort after all these years we’re together. I’m glad you didn’t forget our anniversary, and I greatly appreciate it. However (critically examines her dearest from tip to toe) that vomit stain on your shirt kind of ruins this moment.”

Andy: (to Geralt) “I was preparing to let you know.”

Yennefer: “It doesn’t matter right now. But I’m hoping you’ll smarten up until the evening. If not, Triss still owes me a bottle of wine, so I have an alternative program. (opens a new portal) See you later, Geralt. (steps into the portal and disappears)

(nothing much happens for a while)

Geralt: “Alright, I admit it, I tend to make mistakes. You can stop laughing, Vědmi.”

Vědmi: (wipes off tears from the previous fit of laughing) “Sorry. I… pfffhehe… I’m okay, yeah…”

Geralt: “So… first I’ll go to throw this (takes off the filthy shirt) into the laundry basket, and then…”

Erik: “Watch that fanservice, you’re going to kill our landlady.”

Vědmi: (blushes) “Tssk!”

Geralt: (chuckles and leaves the room with the shirt thrown over his shoulder)

(the not-so-early morning quickly regains its previous calmness; lonely trio goes back to their not-so-hot-anymore beverages)

(ANOTHER portal opens, and random young Nilfgaardian soldier falls out of it)

Vědmi: (swiftly stands up) “Oh, come on! Are you fookin’ kiddin’?!”

Random Nilfgaardian soldier: (glances around) “T-this isn’t Wyzima…?”

Erik: (sarcastically) “No way! How did you notice?”

RNS: (at the beginning of a panic attack) “By the Great Sun, this can’t be happening! What am I going to do now?! I don’t even know how and why that portal opened up right in front of me! General Voorhis is going to kill me once I got back! I…”

Andy: “Calm down, boy. I suppose we know general Voorhis. He’s about this tall, kinda ginger, likes horses…?”

Erik: “Oh wait, isn’t it the same ginger Nilfgaardian who tried to hit on our Vědmi?”

Andy: “But of course he is! (to RNS) Don’t worry, young friend, Vědmi will help you with your trouble. She and general Voorhis know each other VERY WELL! (unsuccessfully tries to hide a grin; Erik already gave up trying)”

Vědmi: (annoyed) “Cut it out, you two! I agreed to go out with him once for a glass of wine in Novigrad. ONCE! And you’re immediately making a mountain out of a molehill! And I wish I didn’t go there. He looked like he’s hoping we could repeat it some other time…”

Erik: (mockingly) “Exactly.”

RNS: (observes the conversation considerably confused)

Vědmi: (dramatically) “OK! Fine! I’ll do it! I’ll put myself out for greater good and explain it wasn’t a desertion nor treason! But the moment he starts to hit on me again, I’ll bite your heads off! (to RNS) And you – sit down for a moment, I still need to make myself look like at least half decent human being, and it’s going to take a while. Do you want some coffee?”

  THE END

[jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels]

The Chronicles of Joe and the Oscar Night Confections - One Shot

A/N: This is a completely selfish piece of drivel. I wrote it laying here as I have bronchitis and walking pneumonia. Now where is Joe to care for me?

No warnings. Complete and utter fluff!

Shout out to @johndeaconshands for the title, from our chat! Haha!

Oscar night. The beautiful gowns and tailored suits floated across my TV screen. And here I was, wrapped in a blanket, laying on my couch, my head resting on a pillowed cradled in Joes lap. I was battling bronchitis.

After a trip to urgent care to get some medicine, Joe sent a text about watching the event together. I informed him of my lack luster illness and appearance, telling him I was going to isolate myself and rest.

As I lay, miserable, on my sofa, dozing I heard a knock on the door. Thinking I imagined it, I start to doze again, but there was another knock followed by Joe’s voice.

“Y/N, it’s me, can I come in?” He said, his voice muffled behind the door.

Shit, I thought to myself. I gather my strength to push myself up and shuffle to the door. As I move I wrap the blanket closer around me and my head, trying to hide before opening the door.

I opened the door and peeked out, he smiled brightly at me as I spoke, “what are you doing here?” My voice hoarse from coughing.

“I’m here to take care of you” he said holding up a couple of brown paper bags and a Starbucks cup “can I come in? I’ve got matzo ball soup, Gatorade, and a some tea.”

He wiggled the bags as I try to laugh, but fell into a coughing fit, stepping away from the door, I gasped out a “come in.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

“That doesn’t sound good, did you get your medicine already?” He asks following me back to my place on the couch. I picked up the bottle and showed him the antibiotics I was prescribed.

“Good!” He says, handing me the warm cup “I brought you a medicine ball from Starbucks, and I’ll get everything else ready and be back in a moment.”

He kissed the top of my messy hair as I took a sip of the warm liquid. I hummed softly as it soothed the dull ache in my throat.

“That good, huh?” Joe laughed from the kitchen where I heard him bustling around.

“Yes” I croak out before coughing again.

As the fit subsided, I groaned and cocooned myself back into my blanket and resumed my position on the sofa.

Soon Joe was carrying in a bowl of soup and a bottle of Gatorade towards me, smiling.

“You need to eat babe” he said softly as he set everything on the coffee table. He leaned over me, brushing a few strands of hair off my forehead, and pressed his hand there. Feeling for fever.

“You feel warm, do you have Motrin or anything?” His hand moving to rest on my cheek as he smiled sweetly at me.

“Yeah” I nod, “in the bathroom cabinet.”

“Ok” he took my hand in his and gently helped me into a sitting position before handing me the bowl of soup.

���Have you taken your antibiotics?” He asked, turning around as he made his way to the bathroom.

I shook my head as I tested the soup, “no, it has to be taken with food.”

“Alright, you eat, I’ll get your meds ready, and after you can rest.” He replied before turning back and heading into the bathroom.

The soup was from my favorite restaurant, he drove all the way there to pick it up, then came back here and risked getting sick to care for me. How did I get so lucky?

As I ate Joe talked animatedly about what the previous years Oscar night had been like and how much fun they all had.

“A far cry from this” I said between bites.

“Babe, I just as happy, if not happier to be here with you, making sure you’re taken care of!” He replied, stroking my cheek.

I couldn’t help but smile. I knew he meant it.

“I just hope you don’t get this” I said softly as I set my half eaten soup aside.

“I’ll be fine” he stated, handing over the pills and Gatorade.

Joe fluffed my pillow and placed it in his lap, patting it as he spoke “lay down babe, you need to rest too.”

I pulled the blanket tighter around me as I happily lay my head on the pillow. He placed one hand on my head, his fingers brushing through my hair, while the other picked up the remote and flipped through the channels, finding one of the many pre Oscar shows.

I quickly drifted off, lulled by his comforting touch, I slipped into a heavy sleep.

Until my bladder woke me.

When I emerged from the bathroom I found Joe back in the kitchen, brew me a fresh cup of tea.

“Hey babe, lay back down, I’m just getting you some tea, I’ll be back in there shortly” he said as he kissed my forehead.

I shuffled back to the couch, instead of laying down I propped myself up on the arm rest, and pulled the blankets around me again.

“Here ya go” Joe said as he came back in the living room, handing me a cup.

“Thank you” I replied, shifting my feet so he could sit down, “you’re too good to me, ya know?”

“Nonsense” I laughed, pulling my legs in his lap, where he began to gently rub my calves, ankles and feet.

“Yes you are” I sighed, my head lulling to the side, resting in the back of the couch.

Our attention was brought back to the TV when Rami made his appearance, he was being interviewed inside the theater.

Joe quickly pulled his phone from his pocket, I already knew he was getting ready to send them all a message in WhatsApp.

“Tell Rami I said he looks dashing, and I’m sure Lucy is nothing but stunning, I can’t wait to see what’s she’s wearing” I said, my voice still scratchy.

He smiled and winked at me as his phone began buzzing with other messages.

As the award show started Joe placed an order for some Chinese food, egg drop soup sounded appetizing even in my sick state.

After eating a little and another dose of my medication, I began to fall asleep again. My feet still resting in Joe’s lap.

Joe was gently shaking me, speaking as he did “babe. Y/N. Hey Rami is presenting. Wake up.” He knew I wouldn’t want to miss our friends moment.

Rami handed over the award as the winner gave their speech, and all too quickly I was being pulled back under by sleep.

I was woken by Joe slipping out from under my feet to answer his phone. I watched as he walked into the kitchen, but I wasn’t able to make up what his muffled voice was saying. Or who he was even speaking to.

He came around the corner to see my sitting up again.

“Hey beautiful” he smiled, coming to sit next to me “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s ok” I replied, leaning into him, covering my head with the blanket as I coughed for the millionth time before I could speak again “everything alright?”

“Oh yeah” he nodded, tucking my crazy hair behind my ear “it was Rami. He invited us to head to some of the after parties with him and Lucy, but I told him how sick you were and that I wouldn’t be leaving your side.”

“Joey” I sighed “you should go, have fun. I promise I’ll be fine. The only thing I plan on doing is getting in my bed.”

“I’m here for the night my love” he whispered before kissing my forehead. “How would you feel if I started you a hot shower before you got in bed? Might make you feel a little better.”

“Thank you” I said before hiding my head to cough again “you don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me” he replied as he handed me some Gatorade before he stood “there’s no place I’d rather be than taking care of you.”

He smiled at me before walking into the bathroom. I heard the shower come on as he stepped back out and towards the bedroom, and a moment later he walked back into the bathroom, carrying my favorite pajamas.

I couldn’t help but smile, it was silly, but the fact that he knew my favorite pajamas melted my heart.

“Alright” he said, walking back towards me, his hands extended “up we go!”

As I put my hands in his, he helped me to my feet.

“Need any help in there?” He asked as he followed me.

“I’ll be good. Thank you Joey” I said before I shut the door.

He had been right. The shower felt amazing. The steam opened my head, and the warm water relieved my aches.

I stood under the hot stream until the water began to cool, stepping out of the warmth, the room felt too cold. I quickly dried off and dressed myself before stepping out of the steamy bathroom.

I looked towards the living room to see Joe just closing the door, a small box in hand.

“Good shower?” He asked, smiling as he walked towards me.

“The best. What’s that?” I asked, nodding towards the box.

“Rami and Lucy sent over a little something since we couldn’t make it out with them tonight.” He replied, as he handed me a napkin with a note scrawled on it.

Feel better sweetie! And enjoy!

XX

Lucy and Rami

I followed Joe into the kitchen as he set the box on the counter before opening it.

Inside were 2 cupcakes.

Joe got excited as he went to the fridge to pull out the carton of lactose free milk I kept for him.

“These look amazing!” He said as he poured himself a glass.

“So the chronicles of Joe and the Oscar night confections continues” I giggled remembering the video of him throughly enjoy a donut last year.

He laughed loudly, “guess I need to share this on Instagram, huh?”

“At least make it seem like you had a fun night out and weren’t stuck caring for me” I replied.

“I’m not stuck, I’m here because this is where I want to be, with my beautiful girl, and a delicious cupcake” he said before taking a bite out of said cupcake.

He moaned happily.

“That good, huh?” I laughed, setting me off into more coughs.

“I’m only making out with it until you’re well enough again for me to make out with!” He said with a cheeky smile.

After he finished his cupcake, and we put mine in the fridge to keep for a day when I felt better, we made our way into my bedroom.

I sighed as I slipped under the covers. The warmth and comfort relaxing my tight chest slightly. Joe climbed in next to me, having found some sleep pants he left here, and having had a shower of his own.

I cuddle next to him as he wrapped his arms around me.

“Thank you again Joey” I said, closing my eyes.

“You’re welcome my love. Get some rest, I’ll be here in the morning” he replied softly before pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

@painandpleasure86 @painkiller80 @leah-halliwell92 @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @deakysgurl @johndeaconstoothgap @johndeaconshands @amethyst-serenade @mirkwoodshewolf @queensdivas @joemazzhello @joemazzellove @heybuddy-drabbles @queenwouldyourathers @deakysmisfire @deakysmazzello @liliah39

[scoiakrol]

I!!! love !! this!! blog!!! and i love!!! all of you!!!

[caederet-a-blog]

>Karkat: Hit your head against the wall repeatedly.

@8rawling @merrygams

8rawling What if I ask you what the reasons are in priv8te.

caederet I MIGHT ANSWER.

8rawling Then what are your reasons.

caederet EMOTIONAL BULLSHIT.

8rawling What.

caederet I DON'T KNOW, I THINK I MIGHT HAVE SOME FORM OF CALIGINOUS INTEREST IN YOU? BY WHICH I MEAN I LITERALLY DON'T KNOW, I'M NOT JUST SAYING THAT TO AVOID SHAME OR WHATEVER.

8rawling I The Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm........ Well, I'll just let you rumin8te on that... forever. Convers8tions were a mistake.

caederet GOOD PLAN. I AGREE. FUCKING, FAREWELL OR WHATEVER.

8rawling Goodlight!!!!!!!!

Yesterday at 11:03 PM

8rawling When you say every night, like... How long have you, y'know????????

caederet FIRST OF ALL I MEANT EVERY NIGHT AS IN EVERY NIGHT YOU BOTHER ME WITH YOUR ASININE DRIVEL. I HAVEN'T BEEN PINING OR ANY OF THAT BULLSHIT. SECOND OF ALL I DON'T FUCKING KNOW. WHEN YOU'VE BEEN AS SEXUALLY AND ROMANTICALLY REPRESSED AS ME ALL YOUR LIFE, A LOT OF SHIT GOES TOTALLY UN-ANALYZED.

8rawling Aw, I only 8other you 'cause half the time I find you more entertaining than the usual shit on my dash. C'mon. Fascin8ting though. Do you remem8er that time Kanaya thought you had pitch interest in me.

caederet WHICH TIME. SHE'S MY MOIRAIL, SHE KNOWS ME BETTER THAN I DO.

8rawling What do you mean which time. I thought there was only one time.

caederet I THINK THERE WERE A COUPLE TIMES SHE VAGUELY TEASED ME ABOUT IT.

8rawling Wow. Am I allowed to tell her she was right. I was going to send her a screenshot of your message tonight anyway. 8ut she didn't get 8ack to me. So I might as well ask since we're here.

caederet NO I RESERVE THE RIGHT TO BE THE ONE TO TELL HER ABOUT MY STUPID SHITTY EMOTIONS.

8rawling Ughhhhhhhh. 8oring. Fine. I'll do my 8est to not mention it. I still can't 8elieve you were serious. It's just like, a small thing, yeah????????

caederet I'LL SEND HER A MESSAGE ABOUT HOW TERRIBLE I AM LATER. WHO KNOWS!!! CERTAINLY NOT FUCKING ME. MAYBE I SHOULD ASK KANAYA, MAYBE SHE'LL KNOW.

8rawling Really? I mean, like. Mmmm. I'm not one to judge on having a hard time with emotions. Kanaya'd have my head for that sort of thing, pro8a8ly, haha.

caederet WAS THE PART WHERE MY MOIRALLEGIANCE WITH KANAYA IS THE ONLY  ROMANTIC CONNECTION I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO HAVE WITH ANOTHER TROLL IN MY LIFE TOTALLY LOST ON YOU.

8rawling Hey, it's the same for me. Kanaya's the first person I've trusted with... anything, really, 8esides my crew. I actually always thought you seemed a little 8etter emotionally connected than me? 8ut I guess not.

caederet I'VE SPENT SO MUCH TIME SUPPRESSING EVERYTHING AND BEING LITERALLY DENIED THE RIGHT TO CONNECT WITH PEOPLE ON ANY LEVEL THROUGHOUT MY ENTIRE LIFE THAT I WAS FRANKLY NEVER ABLE TO LEARN WHAT FEELINGS ARE.

8rawling So yeah, it was lost on me. Ah.

caederet NO, I'M REALLY NOT BETTER AT THAT THAN YOU. I'M GREAT AT PARSING OTHER PEOPLE'S SHIT, BUT MINE IS INSCRUTABLE.

8rawling Hahahaha. Me too! I can read every8ody's thoughts and feelings 8esides my own. It's hard. I have my own reasons for emotional difficulties 8ut I'm, uh, sorry that I didn't pick up on your situ8tion that well.

caederet NO IT'S FINE I WAS NOT IN ANY WAY AT ANY POINT ATTEMPTING TO COMMUNICATE ANYTHING OF THAT VEIN TO YOU.

8rawling Then why ask if it was lost on me.

caederet OH, WAIT, I GOT CONFUSED.

8rawling ????????

caederet SORRY, I THOUGHT YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT MY FEELINGS SITUATION AND NOT MY INABILITY-TO-RECOGNIZE-FEELINGS SITUATION.

8rawling Oh. It's fine, I'm tired and didn't phrase stuff well, pro8a8ly.

caederet ME TOO. THIS IS WEIRD.

8rawling May8e. It's 8etter than when you're 8usy calling me an imperialist or something over literally nothing. 8ut I can leave you alone now if you want.

caederet I DON'T CALL YOU ANYTHING FOR NO REASON. BUT IT'S FINE.

8rawling Then why did you call me an imperialist.

caederet I DON'T REMEMBER THAT WELL. GIVE ME CONTEST. *CONTEXT.

8rawling https://caederet.tumblr.com/post/159726568279/i-never-said-it-was-imperialist You were talking a8out your political views. I think. I don't know, I didn't really care. Either way: I'm Literally a pir8te.

caederet OH THAT WAS JUST A SNAPPY RETORT TO YOUR CALLING ME A DINGUS.

8rawling Karkat Vantas I will punch you into the planet. I have 8een holding a grudge over it this WHOLE TIME. Fuck you. Don't call me that as even a retort again.

caederet OH. OKAY, GOT IT.

8rawling Thanks.

caederet NO PROBLEM. I WON'T PRETEND IT'S NOT. UH. A LITTLE NICE TO KNOW I CAN HAVE THAT EFFECT ON YOU, THOUGH.

8rawling What. ????

caederet FUCK. YOU KNOW, LIKE. PISSING YOU OFF THAT MUCH.

8rawling That is... the worst sentence I've ever read in my entire life, and I've had to read some real wild shit. Like, old troll civiliz8tions who kept 8athroom Logs for every little thing that had mysterious stains on them. And yet, this topples those 8y leaps and 8ounds.

8rawling I h8te knowing that telling you that pro8a8ly just makes you happy. I am disgusted? This is the worst? Goddamnit.

caederet OH SHUT THE FUCK UP. WHAT, YOU THINK YOU'RE SUCH HOT SHIT THAT I'M SOILING MY FUCKING PANTS OVER MY ABILITY TO NOTABLY IRK YOU?

8rawling Yes.

caederet IT WAS JUST AN OBSERVATION THAT I REGRETTED THE MOMENT I SENT YOU'RE NOT.

8rawling Yes I am. I'm gr8. I love... me.

caederet YOU'RE NOT! HONESTLY, MY BELIEF THAT THERE IS THE CAPACITY FOR BEING "GR8" SOMEWHERE WITHIN YOU IS THE MOST GROSSLY OPTIMISTIC THING ABOUT ME. WELL I'M GLAD SOMEONE DOES. WAIT I CAN'T SAY THAT. I HATE THAT PEOPLE LOVE YOU.

8rawling Why? Do you even know what I really do?

caederet BECAUSE I FEEL THAT IT GIVES YOUR MASSIVE EGO A CONCRETE BASIS. YOU'RE A PIRATE, RIGHT.

8rawling I go to old civiliz8tions and ruins and save old literature and artwork from rotting away. I also steal that sort of stuff from people, mostly rich folks who 8uy important works as a source of their vanity. And then I put, uh, what I Can into my li8raries around 8eforus, with some of it kept away in annexes for scholars. Mostly to keep the Empire off my ass with the more "scandalous" materials. The rest is kept in my priv8te collection on deck. It's all stuff that would get my life's work razed immedi8tely, 8ut I felt was still important to save. I am a pir8te, yes, 8ut I only oper8te within the 8ounds of the Empire 8ecause they have enough material to have my head on a stick, and my deals keep them from doing that.

caederet THAT'S COOL, I GUESS.

8rawling You guess.

caederet I MEAN THAT IS ACTUALLY PRETTY COOL, I GUESS.

8rawling ::::)

8rawling Would you want to see the priv8te collection sometime. I'll let you keep a few 8ooks if you like anything you see.

caederet I'M A LITTLE CONFUSED AS TO WHY OH. OH, UH. YEAH. SURE, I GUESS.

8rawling Okay. Just let me know when. I won't 8e at sea for a while yet.

caederet OH, WELL I'M FREE ALL THE TIME BUT NOT SO PRESUMPTUOUS AS TO MAKE PLANS VERY FAR IN ADVANCE. WOULD SOMETIME IN THE NEXT FEW NIGHTS WORK.

8rawling Monday? I can work out a deal with the guy who's letting me stay in his residence to use his transportalizer, pro8a8ly.

caederet I DON'T NEED A TRANSPORTALIZER AS LONG AS YOU AREN'T DIRECTLY UNDER THE WATCHFUL EYES OF THE EMPRESS OR SOME SHIT.

8rawling Trust me when I say I definitely am not. Especially right now. That'd cause more than a few pan aches for me. See you then. ::::)

caederet ALSO THE TRANSPORTALIZER HERE IS PRETTY SHADY AND YOU AREN'T WORTH GETTING MY ATOMS SCATTERED ACROSS SPACETIME IN THE FORM OF A VERY FINE KARKAT DUST. I'LL DRIVE THERE. THAT EMOTE UNSETTLES ME.

8rawling (;:::

caederet MAN, YOU'RE LUCKY I'M A RECKLESS THRILLSEEKER OTHERWISE I'D BE WORRIED ABOUT HOW YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY GOING TO SHANK ME AS SOON AS I SHOW MY GRUBBY FACE AROUND THERE.

8rawling I have no reason to do that. Do 8e wary though, the village I'm in is a pir8tes' haven.

caederet AND?

8rawling Many of the people here will gut you if you even just look at them funny. I would know, I've lost crewm8tes here over the most petty of disagreements.

caederet SOUNDS HOT, I LOVE DYING.

8rawling Ooooooookay. Either way! Sounds like a plan. I gotta try to get some rest, so. Goodlight.

caederet COOL.