#sorry the colours are off I did not pull up any references for this

[crispycreambacon]

Fuck it [ posts this because there is literally no one stopping me from doing so ]

Original image + bonus sketch because I can

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi! I love your writings! I’m obsessed with jealous fred weasley so if you could write a one shot with whatever you’d like :)))

(If you hate just ignore pls lol)

Hi love! Thank you so much, this has been a lot of fun to write. I’ve been sat watching Goblet of Fire, took one look at Fred in this scene and knew it just had to be long hair Freddie because it makes me feral. Hope you enjoy! 🖤

Warnings: bit of swearing, mild sexual references. Fred gets jealous and a little possessive. Talks of marriage. Sorry McLaggen I needed a villain.

Word count: 1k

A cold heart and a warm jumper

Jealousy wasn't something Fred Weasley ever felt.

He knew his family weren't rich, that they'd never have the best of anything or anything new in abundance and so from a young age, he'd made peace with it and learned not to envy others. Being one of seven kids and most importantly a twin in a family that was already stretched both financially and emotionally, he'd had to learn to share, virtually from the day he was born. He'd shared clothes, toys, his room, practically his entire life with George, even a uterus and placenta, though he didn't care to think about that.

But now, watching Cormac McLaggen leering over the one thing in his life that he absolutely refused to share, he felt the unfamiliar rise of the green eyed monster throughout his entire body.

Godric he hated that slimy little prick. With his stupid blonde curls and the smug little smile that Fred really wanted to slap off his face right now, regardless of his rich daddy and any consequences that would inevitably follow.

The common room was a blaze with celebration, Harry’s victory in joint first place of the first task had been wildly celebrated by each and every Gryffindor and even Ron had joined in after being such a miserable git for a month. But even with the chaos and jubilant celebration around him, as well as a decent profit they’d made on taking the bets during the task, Fred was not in the mood for a party.

Despite it being the end of November, Fred’s striped jumper and beige overcoat suddenly felt like they were suffocating him as he stared at the corner where McLaggen leaned suggestively ogling his girlfriend, reaching out to touch her arm and shifting ever closer to where she stood. He was getting hotter by the second, burning up with anger and jealousy as he looked in disgust at the slimy sod. Who did he think he was to be stood so close to Fred’s girl? They’d been together years, it was hardly like nobody knew that she was his.

But then he heard your girlish giggle and his blood seemed to run cold. You were openly laughing with him, playing with a strand of your hair and making no move to shut down his advances.

He’d had enough and was just ready to march over and make Cormac choke down a puking pastille when he watched you take off your coat, throwing it over the chair behind you and taking a step back to avoid Cormac’s over familiar hands as they reached out for you again. Fred’s heart pounded as he looked at what you were wearing so proudly, his quidditch jumper with his surname displayed right across the back. He remembered now how you’d complained of being cold just before you left to view the task and he’d nipped up to his dorm to retrieve a warm jumper for you. He knew it wasn’t the nicest sweater, there was a hole in the left armpit that had been stitched back together with a completely different coloured thread and a great big pull in the fabric on the right sleeve but you’d worn it with pride. Your face had lit up when he held it out to you and you’d tried to sneakily smell it with a cute smile before you threw it over your head, tying up your hair so you could show off his surname now displayed across your back.

Watching you now, he realised how wrong he’d been. You were inching away from McLaggen, body turned away and looking for any sign of escape, the fingers in your hair a simple mechanism to block him from reaching out to you.

Fred was on his feet in seconds, almost trampling a load of first years who were sat in the pathway as he stalked over to where you were standing, his eyes fixed upon the letters across your back.

“Weasley,” he whispers in your ear as a greeting, immediately stepping behind you and placing his hand on the curve of your bum. You jump slightly at the sudden intrusion but recover quickly as you realise it’s him behind you. Fred watched as a smirk blossomed across your face as you realised, pressing your hips back just slightly as a form of acknowledgment, backing up into his hand which he squeezed, getting a good grip of your bum.

“This looks very good on you,” he whispers again into your ear, bending down just enough so that only you could hear how deep and breathy his voice had become. He reaches out with his left hand to glide it over your hip to your waist, tugging on the fabric of the jumper just enough that you’d understand exactly what he meant.

“The jumper or the name?” You smirk, earning another squeeze of your bum for your cheekiness, both of you openly ignoring McLaggen who is still trying to talk to you.

“Both,” Fred smirks, the tip of his nose catching on your hair, his lips moving dangerously closely to the smooth skin of your neck.

“If you don’t mind McLaggen, me and the Mrs have business to attend to,” Fred says suddenly, not even looking at Cormac who briefly considers if he does mind or not, mouth opening as if he is about to protest.

Fred doesn’t even give him a chance and simply throws his right arm around your shoulders and pulls you away with a shit eating grin on his face. His hand slips back towards your bum as you’re walking away, his hand slipping into your jeans pocket as he pulls you close to him, asserting his place. He can’t help but smirk as he directs you towards the stairs to the dorms, knowing that Cormac is still watching the pair of you and he takes a sick pleasure in knowing the last thing McLaggen will see of you tonight is Fred’s hand in your jeans as he takes you to his dorm; with his surname plastered in large letters across your back. The same surname that will be yours in just a couple of years, if Fred gets his way.

Maybe he should invite Cormac to the wedding.

[fictoculus]

hi! i was wondering if you could do wanderer, tighnari, childe, heizou, and maybe thoma with a reader who suffers from like severe depression? like they have no motivation to do anything and they’re always tired and sad and all of that depression stuff (i put that really mildly but i think you get my gist). and maybe if possible could you include that like, the reader is always helping other people and never helps themself because they don’t think they deserve it?

i’m sorry if this is too heavy a request. no pressure and no worries if you don’t want to do it!

౨ৎ no matter how alone you feel, i am always here...

send a request!┊masterlist┊taglist applications

FEAT... wanderer/kuni, tighnari, childe, heizou

A/N... hellooo, thank you so much for this request, i'd be more than happy to write this for you! i'm so sorry but i had to remove thoma from the mix as i couldn't come up with any ideas for himmm. also also i apologise if childe's section is super ooc, i really struggle writing for him, but this is good practice! i did include other mental health related topics that can link to depression as i wanted to try and connect with as many people as possible. this does not mean i expect you to be suffering from those things, and in no way do you have to in order to be suffering from depression. if you are, that's ok too ♡

WARNINGS... self harm (heizou), depression, injury, home-neglect/"depression home" (childe), suicidal thoughts (tighnari), references to derealisation (wanderer/kuni), swearing

✧ wanderer.

♪ wanderer, can be harsh, and has proven to have quite the tough exterior. that doesn't mean he loves you any less. and so, when he found out how you'd really been feeling, and that you'd been having to put up with it alone? he was absolutely heartbroken.

♪ you had forced yourself to get out of bed that morning, feeling almost limp as you stumbled down the stairs. nothing felt real. nothing felt like it mattered.

"morni- are you ok?" tear stains ran down your cheeks, your eyelashes still damp and your eyes bloodshot. the tip of your nose was a soft shade of pink, and the colour of your lips was slightly more vibrant than usual. "have you been crying?"

♪ it would have been one of the only times his shell completely shattered, leaving his interior exposed as he cried; not for you, but with you. the two of you wouldn't have said a word, but instead just sat wrapped around each other, in silence.

♪ with anyone else, he would've been embarrassed. being seen crying was not something many would expect of the wanderer; but it was you. you were hurting, you needed him, and so he wasn't afraid to be vulnerable around you if that's what it takes.

"shhhh, i know, i know... i'm sorry" wanderer, or kuni as you call him, was cradling you in his arms, rocking from side to side and burying his face in your hair. he was trying his best to keep himself together, using your scent to ground himself. "stop- please" tears threatened to spill as you broke apart right in front of him, squirming in his arms, but he refused to let you go. his grip only tightened, pulling your back further into him until you finally stopped thrashing, only to break down into tears. you felt him tremble against your back, his arms shaking slightly as his own tears began to dampen your hair.

♪ he'd known something was off about you, but he had confidence in your strength, you're one of the strongest people he's ever known, after all; but he often fails to realise that everyone can be weak sometimes, and that is one of the beauties of life.

♪ leaving you to handle things alone seemed like the best solution to wanderer; your mind needed the time to rest, to give itself a kickstart and power on like usual... but, oh, how he was wrong.

♪ probably the last thing you needed was to be alone, whether you knew it or not. you needed him; his voice, his gentle touch, his loving kisses, his words - however harsh they may sometimes be.

"it's hard work loving me, isn't it? you... you don't deserve to have to live like this, kuni" "don't say that, it's all work worth doing... you deserve the world, [name], and so much more, more than i could ever give you, got that?" his words carry meaning, so much more than a poem, a song, a kiss. they're unwavering, deeply engraved into the forefront of your mind the moment they slip from his lips. "i'll do this a hundred times if i have to, i don't care. i will still love you all the same, ok? i know i don't say it a lot, but nothing can ever change that, and that's a fact."

♪ he'd hug you until the sun goes down, taking your hand in his own and slowly guiding you to the bedroom once the time to rest arose. physical touch is a love language of his, since he often struggles with his words, and so he cuddled you through the night, instinctively squeezing you just a little tighter than usual.

"i will never leave you, [name]... no matter how alone you feel, i am always here"

✧ tighnari.

♪ tighnari has been out on a trip to aaru village for a few days now - planning to observe how different species of plants grow in different climates - leaving you alone in gandharva ville to watch over collei while he's gone. you do love collei, but sometimes she can be... a bit hard to handle; often getting herself into trouble. it's a lot to deal with, especially with that peculiar numbness which has been dragging you down for weeks now...

♪ unexpectedly, your lover had come home early from his trip; there had been some sort of 'incident' in aaru village which was to remain confidential, even tighnari didn't know the details.

♪ he'd half expected to find you in the kitchen, having lunch with collei, or perhaps reading that book you were obsessed with (which now fails to peak your interest), but instead he finds you curled up in bed, trembling.

"love?" "... nari? y- you're back?" you replied, your voice woven with surprise yet you couldn't bring yourself to show him your face.

♪ concerned, he sat on the edge of the bed, positioning himself so that he was facing the lump which he assumed was you. you shuffled, the sheets rustling as you tried to get closer to him, finding his presence alone comforting.

"are you ok, darling?" "hm? yeah, yeah i'm- i'm ok, i'm good" "would you look at me? i haven't seen you in so long, i want to see the beautiful face of yours"

♪ smart, that's what he was, smart and cunning. he already knew you were crying the moment he stepped into this house, his sensitive ears picking up your sniffles and broken sobs. he wanted to comfort you, to be there for you, maybe (definetely) even hold you, but how was he meant to if you hide yourself away from him?

♪ reluctantly, you turned to face him, showing him your teary eyes but hiding the rest of your face under the bed covers. he reached out and pulled them away from you, leaning down to kiss your nose softly and giving you a weak smile. a couple tears began to fall down your cheeks, but he kissed them away too, trying his bst to show just how much he loves you

"what's the matter, hun? what's been bothering you?" you take a deep breath; this is it, your chance, your chance to tell him everything, to finally confide in him. "things have been hard you know... having to take care of collei, running errands, just- everything, all while having this aching numbness in my chest..." "numbness? love, what do you mean?" "i don't know... it sounds silly i-" he jumps to interrupt you, to reassure you and show how patient he's willing to be with you. he never wants you to dismiss your feelings; he takes your wellbeing very seriously. "no, no it really doesn't, i'm just trying to wrap my head around everything that's all" "are you sure? we don't have to talk about it if-" "no, darling, i'm sure" "ok, well... it's just been lonely, and it's really hurting... i just wish everything would end"

♪ tighnari felt his heart shatter in that moment; you wanted it to end? the love of his life, the one most precious to him, has gotten to the point where they want to completely give up, and it breaks him.

♪ he slowly lowers himself down on top of you, wrapping his arms around you waist and rolling the two of you over so that you were ontop of him, cradling you in his arms and - unbeknownst to you - silently crying with you.

♪ the two of you just lay there in eachothers arms, refusing to let go of the other, tangled together under the covers. it must have been a couple hours before tighnari broke the silence, deciding that you'd had long enough to reflect and attempt to calm yourself down.

"[name], listen to me... no matter how alone you feel, i am always here, ok? i love you so much, and i'm sorry you've had to go through this alone. i will help you, i'm fighting with you now""you don't have to promise me anything, just... please consider coming to me whenever you're thinking like this, ok?" "i will, thank you, nari... i love you"

✧ childe.

♪ both you and childe have a fairly packed schedule, running around liyue day in day out to keep people happy. your beloved seems almost completely unaffected, getting riled up at pesky customers being the worst of his worries, you - on the other hand - had an entirely different load.

♪ due to the fact that the two of you were so busy, you rarely got to see eachother, maybe brushing by eachother but only being able to share a kiss before one of you got dragged off to more business. so, you always made sure to make time for eachother, clearing out at least two days on your calendar (typically wednesdays and saturdays) to spend together, telling the other all the exciting or nerve-wracking things you had encountered in the week

♪ however, what childe doesn't know is that you'd been off the job for almost a month now, spending your days in your own home, stuck in bed despite the voice deep in the back of your mind willing you to get up...

"honey, you home? you kept me waiting you know..." no response... little did he know, you were cursing under your breath; it's wednesday. you paced your room in panic before stopping in front of the mirror, gripping at your hair when you saw your reflection. you practically slammed yourself forward, hands now on the mirror as you traced your reflection's 'imperfections'. you were completely lost in your own head, too lost, in fact, to notice you were the only thing keeping the mirror from crashing down, the already loose screws falling to the floor as soon as you applied pressure. "fuck!!" you yelled, the glass shattering all over your floor, luckily not digging into your skin, but you didn't come out completely unscathed, a couple scratches ;iterring your hands and legs. "love? [name]?! open the door! are you ok?!" he shouts, pounding on your front door, the entirety of liyue must have been able to hear him. "don't come in!! please, just wait, i'll be right there! i'm ok! just please-"

♪ without waiting another moment and completely dismissing your pleas - due to pure concern - he unlocks your door with the key you gave him, walking into your apartment but finding it almost unrecognisable. it was a mess; clothes strewn across the floor, garbage piling up on the kitchen table and beside your bedroom door.

"[name]? hun, what's going on?" you could hear the concern weighing his voice down, it becoming lower and scratchier as he approaches your bedroom. "ah- i told you not to come in!"

♪ he pushes your door open, only to freeze in the doorway when he caught sight of you, greasy hair tangled into a nest-like structure, dark circles making your eyes pop.

"holy shit!! what in teyvat happened? are- are you ok!?" his eyes are wide, hands shaking as he approaches you slowly, holding your shoulders as he scanned you up and down. "archons, what happened... love, is there something going on? is someone hurting you? has someone done something? talk to me! please i just-"

♪ the whole situation was more than just overwhelming; being stood in a ring of shattered glass, exhausted, embarassed, the whole package.

♪ naturally, you began to tear up, lowering yourself down until your were squatting, holding your head in you hands and sobbing, all while childe stood and watched; he didn't know what to do.

♪ he'd never seen you like this before, so vulnerable, so afraid, so hurt; and it hurt him too. carefully, he swept away the glass with his foot, creating a path for you to 'escape' safely and into his arms, which you did; slamming yourself into him and burying your face in his chest.

"i- i'm sorry, i'm so sorry i forgot and- and my place is a mess and i'm- i'm a mess and, archons- childe... childe, i'm falling apart" "shhhh, you're ok, i'm here now, ok? just breath for me, love" "it- it's just so hard, y'know? alone... i'm so alone, i- i can't do this alone, fuck i'm sorry, i just- it feels like i'm losing control of myself; i can't even think straight anymore and i feel so dazed all the time and... i'm lonely, e- even though i'm surrounded by so many people, i'm so lonely"

♪ he let's you talk, not daring to interrupt you, just listening to you, holding you close and stroking your arm in an attempt to reassure you. only when you stop talking does he pull away, peppering your face in loving kisses before planting an especially sweet one on your lips.

"honey, stop, i'm all gross and-" "i don't care"

♪ and he shows you that he doesn't, kissing you again and again; your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, your lips, everywhere. he has so much love for you, and he just keeps on giving. he doesn't care if you don't think you deserve it, if you don't think he should have to 'deal with you'; he gives it to you regardless, and that's something you can't help but love about him.

"no matter how alone you feel, i am always here, understand? i love you, [name], and i care about you, more than anything; more than my job, the fatui, mora, the list goes on. nothing is more important to me than you, and i'm not ashamed to say it. i am the one who doesn't deserve you, i'm blessed to even know you, nevermind have the privilige of loving you. so accept it, please, take my love, my heart, my everything; all my being is here for you." "archons, i love you, childe" "i love you, [name]"

(big ass dramatic speech for our drama queen) (rest assured, he meant every word)

✧ heizou.

♪ the man is a detective, so he quite quickly caught on, but was hesitant to mention it, bringing it up jokingly only for you to completely dismiss it. heizou could tell by the look in your eyes alone that something was seriously wrong; the old sparkle being replaced by a dull void. nevertheless, he would still get lost in your eyes, but feel as if he were falling down a bottomless pit; it was like he could feel what you were feeling, see what you were seeing, and it hurt.

♪ he'd be returning home from a long day of detective work, uncovering clues and deciphering codes to find missing persons, his eyelids dropping as he locked the front door behind him

"honey, i'm home!" he calls out, knowing well how cheesy the phrase was, and using that to his advantage, wanting the first thing he sees after a long day on the job to be your smile. "love?" after hearing no response - not even the shuffling of your slippers against the wooden floorboards - he grew concerned, eyebrows furrowing as he began to wonder: "where could they be?"

♪ someone coming after you must be his most dreaded nightmare; a thought that haunts him late at night, though thankfully the sight of you sleeping soundly next to him always seems to calm him, but this time you aren't there... you aren't there beside him to comfort him, to show him you're safe, to prove to him you aren't hurt. the poor man is stood in the entryway of your shared home, eyes wide and scanning the coat hooks for any missing coats, or the shoe rack for any easy-access pairs you may have grabbed if you were faced with the need to run.

♪ merely thinking about a criminal exploiting heizou's soft spot for you as revenge for proving them guilty sent chills down his spine, the thought of you being hurt scaring you more than anything ever could, even more than some of his worst cases.

"calm down, heizou, they're probably fine" he reassures himself, trying to keep calm and prevent himself from thinking (or acting) irrationally. finally stepping into the front room, heizou's eyes switch from doorway to doorway, trying to decide where you're most likely to be. watching tv in the living room? nope. cooking dinner in the kitchen? not there either. showering in the bathroom? still no. watering the plants in the back garden? this late at night? no way! sleeping in the bedroom? not quite...

♪ peeking through the crack in the bedroom door, he sees you sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and unmoving. his first thought is to burst through the door and hug you, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around in relief... that is until his eyes recognise the red trickling down your thighs...

♪ you wanted to feel something, anything. an escape from this numbness was all you wanted, all you needed, yet it would slip from your grasp as soon as the pain subsided. it was unloving, unforgiving, cruel; leaving you alone once more, staring a hole into the blank spot of yours and heizou's bedroom wall.

"you thought i wouldn't notice, love? i am a detective, y'know..."

♪ yes, admittedly it wasn't the best choice of words, but in all honesty, he wasn't quite sure how to react. he pushed the door open, poking his head through first with a weak smile before opening it further and sliding through the gap. no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you could see his eyes welling up with tears, his bottom lip wavering as he looked you in the eyes.

"can... would it be ok if i come closer?" his gentle voice calls out, you can hear the sadness in your voice, and it hit your heart with a 'twang'. you nod meekly, reaching out your hand to grab a cloth and covering your leg, but he grabs your wrist to stop you "please, let me see?" "'zou... you don't need to help me" "[name], i want to help you, i'm choosing to do this... so please"

♪ at first you're doubtful, confused as to why anyone would want to give you this kind of help, especially heizou. not because you view him negatively, but because you could tell he was exhausted; being a detective is hard work, and has proven to be very draining.

♪ deep down you didn't think you deserved it. despite always being happy and willing to help others, nobody ever seems to want to return the favour, and so your frozen in shock - not pain - when he begins cleaning your wounds.

"do you maybe wanna talk about it?" he asks, looking up at you with kind eyes, showing you how genuine he was. whatever was bothering you, he wanted to know, he wanted to help, because you deserve his help. "... m- maybe later?" as much as you hate to dissapoint him, you can't bring yourself to even think about how you'd explain all this to heizou; not wanting to scare him or become 'one of his clients', though you know he would never treat you that way. "of course, whenever you need, love... you know i love you, right? and... and that no matter how alone you feel, i am always here" "i love you..."

thanks for reading ♡ want to read more? my requests are OPEN, so please feel free to let me know what you'd like me to write next!

☆ a little message i wanted to share... ( feel free to skip)

"i know some random person from the internet saying this may not help, but i want you to know that you are loved, you are cared for, whether you know it or not. there are billions of people on this planet, not one of us are the same, and so no one will ever really know how you're feeling, but that's ok. this is something you are going through and something you will get yourself out of. yes, it will take time, and it'll be hard, but i believe in you. nobody knows you better than yourself. if you think doing something, anything, will make you feel worse, don't do it. you know your boundaries better than anyone, no matter what other people say. take your time. of course, it's good to help others, but sometimes you'd be helping other people more if you took a second to take care of yourself. you do deserve it. please stay safe and take care of yourself. ily ♡"

© FICTOCULUS 2023; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own

[ayukaze]

MY DEPRESSION HAS BEEN CURED MY SKIN IS CLEAR MY CROPS ARE FLOURISHING ALL BECAUSE OF THIS ONE IMAGE THIS IS THE YEAR OF ADVENTURE PANDERING LETS FUCKIN GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Let's break this down one by one ~

This is such a good Sora fit I don't even know how to explain how very much OG Sora this is, the pink tones of the overall sporty outfit perfectly capture all levels of her personality. To top it off she's sharing flower themed cream sandwiches with Piyomon AAAHHH the subtle reference okay merch team you can take a w. Not to mention Sora is perfectly matching with Taichi and the fruit in her sandwich is orange stoooopppp itttt!!!!!

TAICHI OMG who is dressing this boy because that's the most he's ever jocked as a 11 year old. The sweatshirt, cargo pants, matching wristband and the sense to put his goggles down, he is winning the sporty casual fashion show for sure. And of course him and Agumon are enjoying some chicken popcorn, love how they weren't even subtle with the packaging art we all know Japan's favourite fried chicken brand anyway 🤣

Yamato. YAMATO. Y A M A T O. You're 11 can you tone down the cool guy heartthrob behaviour for a minute because I am losing my mind THE DOGTAG CHAIN IM GONNA SCREEAAAMMM ACTUALLY I AM SCREAAAMING AAAAHHHHHHH. He looks so good, there is absolutely no wrong element in his entire outfit, everything is perfectly paired up, a fashionista is among us. The little thumbs up over the onigiri that Gabumon is offering him?? Is he telling Gabumon that he's okay with having one and Gabumon can have the rest because that's the sweet, protective, kind, caring baby he is at heart???🥹🥹🥹The blue and green gradient in the background tho?? Mimato math is mathing bestiesss 🤣

Takeru is just a lil guy, but such a perfect lil guy!!! I like how his outfit has the similar green shade as his anime outfit but they still chose to gave him a new beanie instead which doesn't really match the colour tone of the rest of the fit but it's Takeru so we know that he can pull any hat off and that's what he does!!! Him and Patamon sharing burgers, okay mood, but why is he looking so surprised? I need to know what happened, did he spill some sauce on his overalls? Was the burger too hot to bite? WHAT HAPPENED TAKERU????? 😢

Jou, I see you paired up the plaid pants with a nice long, muted, warm toned jacket BUT I SEE THAT PURPLE SHIRT POKING IN FROM INSIDE and excuse me sir but why that purple with the plaid 😭 I need to see a version where Jou isn't wearing the jacket so I can make an informed rating on this outfit but may I add that in the full merch pic he has paired this look with green and white sneakers...I cannot defend you I am sorry Jou, please try brown loafers next time 😭 But outfit aside, Jou eating a taiyaki with Gomamon is lowkey funny I just know that Gomamon cracked a Marching Fishes joke at least once.

Koushiro...I will not go into detail but I will say it's cute that you have a sweater with a little K on it, it's also very cute that there is a splash of orange in your outfit, who's attention are you vying for it isn't subtle at all bby boy and I am grateful you matched your shoes to your sweater even if the socks are definitely a choice and that blue with orange is also definitely another choice. Good to see your are making choices. I like that him and Tentomon are sharing dango, it's always nice to see Koushiro's fondness towards Japanese traditional snacks hinted at in some way.

MIMI. QUEEN. SLAAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!! YOU NEVER EVER MISS MY SWEET BEAUTIFUL BABY GIRL. The pastel tones matched with the grey stockings for contrast, that beret and the fuzzy hem boots, you just know she shops at Takashimaya and Isetan and anything below it will just not do 👏🏻 Plus Sora and Mimi are wearing the same tones, which probably means that they pre-planned the outfits together, cuties!!! Also Crepe is such a Mimi™️ choice of dessert but I always get teary eyes when I see Palmon mimic Mimi's gestures, there is just so much love and admiration between them for each other, pure childish wonder 💚 And the crepe even has a cutesy character face on it, which kinda looks like Monzaemon, though I can't be sure but if it is then another win for a subtle reference. Not to mention both Yamato and Mimi look like they've dressed in a more cool and elegant style than the rest like they might be on their way to a date THE MIMAT MATH IS MATHING YALLL!!!

Hikari looks super cute, I think there isn't much official art of her in casual clothing for OG stuff so it's nice to see her in a more cutesy fit suited to her age. The hairband matching the cardigan is such a nice touch!! I can't recall any other casual outfit for OG design Hikari except the War Game and Memorial Party dress, so I think this would be the first time we see Hikari with a hairband and it just looks adorable. Of course she is sharing an ice cream with Tailmon, it's kinda their brand now but like Takeru she's making a surprised expression, perhaps she wasn't expecting Tailmon to offer her a bite of her ice cream?

To conclude, this is probably the best OG artwork we've gotten since Idk maybe the Rainy Day stationery series. This will be sold in advance at the Kamio Store booth at Anime Japan 2024. No other details were mentioned, but the event booth sale feels like a pre-sale before the goods become available more widely at other outlets, hopefully, at some stores that international fans have access too as well.

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

Ayushi out.

[oneatlatime]

The Headband

I don't care how dormant a volcano supposedly is. Living in the maw of one would absolutely freak me out.

Zuko out for his nightly constitutional lurking practice.

I want this snuggy cape.

No better disguise than a cloud 1.2 metres from the ground. That's where all clouds hand out. Cool puffins though.

Enemy puffins approve of new fluffy Sokka.

Did Sokka just dive headfirst into rock?

I do not like this angle. Looks like his head's on backwards.

This episode is three minutes in and already I'm loving the comic tone.

Wow Katara, with the enthusiasm you're showing for stealing those clothes, they must belong to pirates.

These are some top tier nonsense sound effects. Far too few of those in recent episodes.

Beat up Sokka quota fulfilled!

Toph has by far the best outfit. Love the gold accents.

We've had two seasons of blatantly blue Katara not being identified by the Fire Nation as a Water Tribe person. I think the necklace can stay.

His headband is an airbender arrow. So much for disguising himself.

I would love it if linguistic drift meant that Aang was going around tossing out slurs completely unaware.

WHAT is this face

"Just slob is fine." I ADORE characters that are so secure in themselves and in their belief in the decency of others that all attempts at ridicule slide off like water off a duck's back.

He does it again! "Wow. Are you a bully? This is so exciting! I've always wanted to meet a bully!"

Onji - get better taste in men. Why are you even dating this prick? Did you have any say in becoming his girlfriend? Blink twice if you need help.

These Fire Nation kids are all so mild. Contrast them with Zuko and they might as well be a different species.

What is Hide and Explode?

Sokka is showing a mastery of slapstick that I haven't seen since The Fortune Teller. Glad to have it back.

Is this the first time someone has recognised Zuko by his scar? About time.

Was it really necessary to beat up the guard? Seems a bit much. Zuko could have just asked nicely. That usually works for Iroh.

Speaking of: Iroh! Hi Iroh! Didn't think you'd still be alive.

Noodle Ozai. Did Aang get put in preschool by accident?

Those hippies should do a song about Secret Rivers.

Tired of spending three years talking to Zuko without making any progress, Iroh decides to attempt a new technique and deploys the silent treatment. It works just as well as three years of talking.

Colour me completely unsurprised that the Fire Nation has a pledge of Allegiance.

This school must have some gnarly punishments if questioning the teacher garners this reaction.

This man's head is alarming.

This man is also surprisingly nice for a fascist agent of the state bent on suppressing personal expression.

Movements? Aang you were showing her MOVEMENTS! GASP! FILTHY!

I love this fight. It's been a while (maybe back to season 1) since Aang's preferred fighting style was 'Nope'.

They haven't committed to the bit this hard since Bonzu Pippinpadalopsicopoulous, the Third!

It's funny how we spent two whole seasons haunted by nothing but threatening shadows of the Fire Lord, and then an episode after his face is finally revealed they turn him into part of the decor. He even gets a noodle version.

Play Spot the Firelord with this episode. I count four.

Sokka is having way too much fun with this.

Just going to sneak a reference to child labour in there. Gnarly punishments indeed.

Local Emos Experience Happiness for the First Time; Immediately Implode.

I'm sorry but Mai's cloak has such Santa vibes.

That is some serious side eye.

"You get to be normal all the time." Aang is pulling no punches today.

Where did they get this many candles? Actually, where did they get that many matches? They don't even have a Firebender on staff.

Poor kid is objectively correct. I guarantee your parents don't want you dancing in a cave. It will be good for you though! just don't lick the walls.

No wonder the Fire Nation got rid of dancing. Those moves are awful.

Zuko! "I brought you this food that I know you don't like because I need your help." Buddy. Why.

I could do without the heavy-handed Katara and Aang romance. Also, when exactly did Katara learn advanced gymnastics and choreograph a whole routine with Aang?

I hate this twerp so much!

That song the band is playing right as the adults bust in is better than the songs featured earlier in the dance montage.

I love this guy.

i know that the soundtrack probably went from diegetic to non-diegetic as soon as the chase started, but I love the idea that the school band provided theme music for searching for Aang.

Delightfully eerie. and also very Spartacus.

Actually with the guards starting to dance, it WAS the school band providing a soundtrack for the Aang hunt.

Is Momo at the reins?

How is this assassin good at keeping secrets and not being followed? He creaks and clanks.

Final Thoughts

I loved this. This type of episode is when Avatar is at its best: heaps of goof, a side helping of heart, subtle and not-so-subtle critiques organically incorporated, tonally contrasting storylines that combine to form a whole greater than its parts, and even one-note characters who are given depth.

Aang was in his element as a normal kid; Sokka was having a great time being super agent / team dad; poor Katara and Toph got like two lines each but still had fun with what they did get. Even Momo got some sight gags.

Aang is so personable. I think it's the combination of great social skills from a good peripatetic upbringing and being a peacetime child.

I think Zuko experienced every possible human emotion this episode. I loved seeing him snark with Mai (those two are way too good together), but his scenes with/revolving around Iroh were confusing and intense. Which is probably how Zuko would describe them too. Seems he's speedrunning his season 1 bad decisions arc.

I'm not fond of this new silent treatment approach from Iroh, but I have to admit that talking to Zuko didn't work for years, so what else is there to try?

I wasn't expecting a Footloose homage and a Spartacus reference in Avatar of all places. But it works. And it works if you don't catch the references too.

I am severely disappointed in Fire Nation fashion. I was expecting gloriously eye-searing red/gold/yellow outfits. I got black/tan/brown with dull red edging. It's probably a visual commentary on what imperialism does to its own people. And the price of dyes. But I was really looking forward to reds and golds! At least I have Toph's outfit.

I loved the liberal use of sound effects in the Gaang's plot. I love comic sound effects on their own, but they really enhanced the contast between Zuko and the Gaang's plots.

There was lots of heavy stuff under the surface this episode, what with the squashing of the self and the discrimination against colonials and the propaganda and the revisionist history and the assassin. But I feel like being silly today, so I'm not going to dig into it. That's one of the great things about this show. Not all, but many episodes are structured so that you can choose your level of engagement and consequent angst.

This episode was funny, and fun. A much-needed palette cleanser after the drudge of the season opener. The last time there was an episode this unapologetically silly was probably Avatar Day. In other words, it's been far too long. Definitely going on my rewatch list.

I really want Zuko's snuggy cape.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Wash Away the Pain #1 - Echo

Returning to Kamino following a string of back-to-back missions after Anaxes, Echo receives the news he never wanted to hear.

Pairing: Echo x gn!reader (can be seen as platonic or romantic)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: whump, reference to Fives death, Echo has self-esteem issues, mourning and grief, hurt and comfort, you and the boys rally around Echo, bittersweet ending.

A/N: I was heavily inspired by these gorgeous drawings by @thattoothpick.

This is part of a mini-series where each of our boys will get their sad/angsty shower time, but they can be read as standalones.

Check out the whole series: Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair.

Sign up to be tagged in my future fics.

The sound of falling water drowned out everything else in the fresher, the water temperature so hot it should’ve been uncomfortable, but after years in cryofreeze, Echo welcomed the heat. 

He was gone. 

He was really gone.

“I’m sorry, Echo. I really am. He should’ve been stunned. I still don’t know why it went down like that.”

Rex’s voice as he’d broken the news still rang in his head. Echo had received a message from him only an hour ago, after you’d all landed on Kamino following a string of back-to-back missions following Anaxes. He’d thought they would just shoot the breeze like old times. He hadn’t expected this.

Echo’s eyes drop, fixating on the metal legs the Techno Union had attached to his body. The scomp on his right arm, the ports littering his body. Self-loathing coils through him.

Why did he get to live? Why was he turned into a machine while Fives died, lost in panic, in a dirty Coruscant street? The only saving grace was that Rex had been there to hold him. 

So lost in his thoughts, Echo misses the sound of the fresher door opening, of you slipping inside and shutting it behind you. 

Echo might’ve only been with you and the boys for a few weeks, but you’d quickly grown fond of him. So much so that when he’d returned to the barracks 10 minutes ago, crest-fallen, clutching a bucket painted in the colours of the 501st, and then promptly headed for the fresher without so much as a word, you’d known something was wrong. Your datapad had pinged a few moments later, a message from Rex filling you in, asking you to keep an eye on Echo – as if you wouldn’t have done that. 

Physically, he was fine, albeit still getting used to his new body. As the squads nat-born medic, called in because of the inability of your boys to get along with regs, it was your job to look after their wellbeing. And now it seemed Echo needed some care.

You step into the shower behind him, not caring that you’re still clothed, and slowly press a hand to his back. Echo jolts at the touch, caught off-guard, turning in place to meet your gaze. With space tight on the Marauder and sharing barracks, seeing the boys in various states of undress had become commonplace. Heck, half the time, they had to be stripped out of their ruined blacks when injured. The nudity no longer bothered any of you. Echo had adapted to it quickly, too.

“Echo…” His name falls from your lips quietly, hand rising to cup his face. His head tilts away from your gaze, taking your hand with him. Thumb smoothing across his gaunt cheek, you watch as a myriad of emotions flit across his face.  

Echo’s eyes were now clouded with grief and guilt. The water from the shower mixes with the tears streaming down his face, creating a bittersweet cascade that mirrored the turmoil within him.

“I should’ve been there,” Echo mutters, his voice strained and filled with regret. “I should’ve protected him. He’s gone because of me.”

Your heart aches for him, and you rest your free hand on his waist, pulling him closer. The prosthetic attachments on his body feel cold against your skin – even with the shower’s heat – a stark reminder of his sacrifices for the Republic. “Echo, you couldn’t have known. You’ve been through so much. Don’t blame yourself.”

He shakes his head, a mix of frustration and sorrow in his eyes. “I can’t shake the feeling that I failed him. And now I’m just a machine, a reminder of everything we lost.”

You gently trace the contours of the implants on his arm, your fingers dancing over the hard surface. “You’re not just a machine, Echo. You’re a survivor. You’re still here.”

He finally meets your gaze, and for a moment, he searches your eyes. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but you let him take his time. “I don’t know how to be here without him.” He finally admits.

“You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Grieve, remember, but don’t forget that there are people here who care about you, who want to help you through this.” You tell him softly, the water continuing to pour down around you both.

Echo’s shoulders slump, and he leans into your touch, the warmth of your presence starkly contrasting with the cold metal that now makes up a significant part of him. The weight of loss and survivor’s guilt hangs heavy in the air, but your steady support gives him a small anchor in the storm of his emotions.

“I don’t want to be alone again.” He admits, voice barely above a whisper.

“You never will be.” You assure him, fingers continuing their gentle exploration of the cybernetic enhancements that have become a part of him, wanting to show him that it was okay, that there was nothing wrong with his new body. “We’re all here for you, Echo. The boys, Rex, and I.”

He nods, a silent acknowledgement of your words. The water washes away not just the physical grime but also some of the emotional turmoil that has gripped him since Rex delivered the devastating news.

As the two of you stand in the warmth of the shower, Echo may feel like a machine, a remnant of a past he can’t forget, but your touch, your empathy, reminds him that he’s still human beneath the prosthetics. 

Eyes flitting towards the counter just outside the shower cubicle, Echo lets out a small sigh as he looks over his brother’s helmet. Memories of them painting their armour together surface, of the multiple attempts it had taken to get the lines crisp, of Fives dipping his hand in blue paint to reapply the print on Echo’s chestplate.

Following his gaze, a sad smile passes over your lips. “Remembering him doesn’t mean you must carry the weight alone.” You say, voice a gentle murmur. “We’re all here to share the burden. Fives will always be a part of you, and you’ll carry his memory forward.”

Echo's gaze lingers on the helmet. The loss of a brother is a wound that cuts deep, but perhaps, with time and support, the injury could heal into a scar - a testament to the strength it took to endure.

As the water cools, you guide Echo out of the shower. The small space feels intimate and comforting, a refuge from the harsh realities of the galaxy. You hand him a towel, and he begins to dry himself off on autopilot, his mind still processing the emotional whirlwind.

Over the following days, the barracks become a place of healing. The boys rally around Echo, offering support and understanding. When Echo’s new armour is finished – having undergone some modifications courtesy of Tech – they paint it in their colours while you distract Echo in the medbay. You’d also procured some blue paint from Rex, and they make sure to add a small Aurebesh ‘5’ and a fine-line domino to the back of the chestplate.

The tears that had clouded Echo’s gaze as he’d been presented with his new kit and had turned it over to find the hidden tribute were a mixture of sorrow and gratitude. The pain of loss still lingered, but each stroke of the brush, each carefully applied detail, was a silent affirmation that he was not alone.

In the quiet moments, you still find Echo gazing at Five’s helmet, stored securely on the Marauder. But now, there’s a small smile playing on his lips. The pain may never fully fade, but Echo carries the memories of Fives with gratitude for the time they shared, and the squad learns that even in loss, there’s strength in unity.

Tag list: @clonethirstingisreal @littlemissmanga @starrylothcat @cw80831 @dreamie411

[vaya-writes]

Serving the Serpent - 9

Briar owes Lord Isen her life. She works off her debt by serving in his castle. Dealing with the rapidly changing circumstances of her life, she’s not used to anyone paying her much attention. It’s hard when Isen seems set on interacting with her. 

Cis female human with selective mutism x male naga (slow burn, co-workers to lovers, power imbalances, eventual smut). 4700 words. Content warnings for this chapter include discussion of Briar’s cult-like upbringing, sleep deprivation, and Briar experiencing significant anxiety. Divider from firefly-graphics.

Thank you for your patience everyone <3 It's been a month and a half, whoops. I present the only one bed trope. Enjoy.

Previous - Masterlist

The phrase ‘when it rains, it pours’ is not always accurate in the Ophidian Lowlands. Usually, the sky hangs low and overcast, drizzling on and off throughout autumn.  Perhaps the saying is a holdover from when the Pilgrims lived on the continent. Perhaps it was never meant to be used literally, and only ever used to refer to misfortunes of other kinds. Regardless of the phrase’s origins, it proves especially true the morning lord Isen is supposed to start his tour.  

Briar finds him amidst a tangle of blankets, unresponsive. She’s not surprised. The serpent is cold blooded, and the temperature can’t be doing him any favours. Opening the curtains doesn’t do much to rouse him, and neither does stoking the fire.  

Briar approaches the bed, staring down at the pale scales that peek out from the blankets, wondering if she should wake the lord. She’s never had to do so before, as he’s never had to be up quite so early. 

She coughs softly, but Isen doesn’t respond. Neither does he move when she shakes the bed. She waits a moment before trying again. And then a third time. Her anxiety grows when she realises she’ll have to take more drastic measures.  

She’s just doing her job. She won’t get in trouble. She won’t. 

Isen lets out a hiss when she pulls the blankets from the bed. He curls up tighter and attempts to sink beneath his pillows. Briar starts removing them, one cushion at a time until Isen lies bare on the bed. Still, he does not wake. 

Briar lets out a loud sigh – practically a groan with the way exasperation colours her voice. They have things to do and places to be, and they’re going to be late. 

She flinches when Isen sits up, quite suddenly.  

He squints at her, bleary, hair mussed. “D’you say somthin, Leg?” 

She’s taken aback by his slurred speech. Enough so that she doesn’t even have room to worry at the question. Instead, she raises her brow. ‘Did you?’ 

He rubs his face. Lets out a groan.  

And lays back down. 

Briar watches him with widened eyes. She no longer has any compunctions about shaking him awake. 

Isen is saved from Briar’s ire when Arol blows into the room, completely abluster. 

“You do this every year Kovit!”  

Briar jumps back as the lizard grabs Isen’s tail and pulls; heaving until Isen’s bottom half is hanging off the bed.  

“The weather broke, I’ve been rearranging things since sunrise, we are already behind. And you’re not even out of bed!” 

Isen lets out another groggy noise before sitting up. “Sss fine Arol. The tide doesn’t change ‘til midmorning.” 

“The tide doesn’t- are you not listening? It’s been raining all night. We’re not taking the Ophidia, we have to go on foot!” 

Isen takes a moment. “What?” 

“You heard me.” 

He sighs. Rubs his face again. “Okay, okay. What time is it?” 

“Time to leave. The sun has been up for nearly an hour.” 

“Okay. I’m moving.” He slides off the bed, moving sluggishly towards the wardrobe. 

Arol turns tail and is about to leave when Briar taps him on the arm. She doesn’t want to deal with his mood, but would prefer that to being left in the dark. 

“What?”  

She stills at his tone. Stares him dead on, and waits for him to deflate a little.  

To his credit, Arol seems to understand her expression. “You’re right, sorry. I’m just feeling quite frazzled.” 

She shrugs, and waves off the statement. Then she shakes her head. ‘What is happening?’ 

Arol eyes her hands with a wince. “I’m sorry, I haven’t learnt Sign yet. Isen, can you translate?” 

Isen leans out from his wardrobe as Briar repeats herself. “She’s asking what happened.” 

“Of course, you’re new around here.” Arol’s posture loosens. “Most of the time we travel the lowlands via barge. This trip would only take a day or two if we could do that. But it stormed all last night, and now the river isn’t safe to sail.”  

Briar nods her understanding. She tries signing something simple to him. ‘What’s wrong with that?’ (Why, you, bad) 

He gets the gist of it. “It will take a whole day to travel to the Sisters on foot. Even if we can sail tomorrow, that’s a whole day we’re adding to our itinerary. I’ve had organise additional supplies, reschedule our appointments... It’s not a big problem. I’m just feeling foul. Sorry for yelling, you shouldn’t have to witness that.” 

Briar waves him off again. ‘It’s fine.’ 

He nods. “Thanks, Legs. I’ll meet you both downstairs. Breakfast will be on the trail.” 

Briar’s nose crinkles. It seems Isen’s nickname is sticking. 

Arol is gone by the time Isen emerges from his wardrobe, dressed and looking marginally more awake. He lets out another yawn, before giving Briar an almost contemplative frown. 

She raises her brow, accompanying him as he follows after his representative. ‘What?’ 

“I think I dreamt that you said something to me, right before I woke, but I can’t remember what.” 

Briar immediately knows what he’s talking about. He had woken right after she’d groaned at him. She can’t help but stare at her feet as they walk, an unsourced feeling of anxiety curling in her gut. The idea of vocalising-  

She doesn’t even want to think about it. Every time it had come up since she was a child, she’d been met with nothing but distaste. Exasperation. Blame. Even the kindest of the pilgrims had alienated her. Made her feel like she was deficit of something. She doesn’t want to hear it from Isen too.  

It’s irrational. She knows he wouldn’t hurt her intentionally. Wouldn’t pressure her to speak if she made it clear that she didn’t want to. But everyone who’d ever found out that she could speak – or at least that she should be able to, that her vocal cords were not, in fact, damaged, did nothing but hurt her. Intentional or not. Even Stella, from time to time. It was exhausting. 

She realises that Isen is silent. He’d been awaiting her reaction to his confession. Had possibly taken her silence the wrong way. 

She can’t say why she does it. But the exhaustion is back, and part of her wants to confide in somebody. To share, and lighten the burden, just a little. To say ‘I am tired, and I hate this’. And she doesn’t think Isen will make a big deal out of it. 

So she does it again.  

She sighs, letting out an unpleasant, almost wheezing groan while she does, replicating the noise that had woken her boss.  

Isen whips his head in her direction. He looks bewildered. Amused. “Is that what woke me up? I didn’t dream it?” 

Briar shrugs, looking back at her feet again as they descend the stairs. 

He’s silent for a moment, and she dreads the questions that might come. 

But he only huffs. “I must have really annoyed you. Sorry Legs.” 

She looks up, surprised. 

“It’s the temperature. I wish I could tell you I’d be better, but it’s only going to get worse.” He runs a hand through his hair. Adds offhandedly, “I’d probably sleep through the whole of winter if it weren’t for my- well-” he looks embarrassed. “I guess you’ll see.” 

No longer wracked with tension, Briar levels Isen with a mystified stare.  

He waves her off. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry for making your job harder this morning.” 

--- 

Briar does not enjoy travelling. 

The path near Riversreach is manageable. It’s supplemented with wooden planks laid over the worst of the mud, keeping the muck from swallowing the ground. But by midmorning they’re trudging through the sludge– all of Briar’s concentration going towards sidestepping puddles and navigating mired pits that menace her boots with their depth. 

She’d been aware that there are no major roads through the Lowlands, but seeing really is believing. If she were here alone, she’d become quickly lost amidst the wetlands. Now and then she spots markings on the trees – bits of rope and ribbon tied to the branches to make the way more visible. But most of her focus is on her feet as she scrabbles to keep hold of her luggage.  

Pack animals wouldn’t be able to traverse the lowlands with any effectiveness, so everyone carries their own things. Even Isen drapes a bag over one shoulder, his partison over the other. He looks particularly miserable. 

There are places where he can dodge the worst of the mud, but most of the journey he has no choice but to slosh through it. Briar understands now, why he’d elected to forgo a sarong today. Anything on his lower half would be spattered and ruined by the mud. Still, he wears a coat. It surprises Briar, who’d never seen him cover his chest. He really must handle the cold poorly.  

Shivering in the drizzle, she can’t help but sympathise with him. 

By the time they arrive at their first stop, Briar is regretting her choice to join Isen on this trip. She knows she should take in the sights; examine the first settlement of the Lowlands with keen interest. But her skin is splotchy from insect bites, her feet are wet and blistered, and her hair is frizzing something fierce in front of her eyes.  

Arol takes one look at her and snorts. “You look as miserable as our lord.” 

She acknowledges him with a grimace. 

The sun is setting when they make their way into the raised and stilted village. It’d be a relief to climb out of the mud if it hadn’t followed her, clinging to her legs with what feels like malicious intent.  

A stocky lizard greets them, chest bare despite the rapidly cooling air. He’s an older male, his colours faded somewhat, and scars dotting his hands and arms. “Welcome to the Lower Sister, lord Isen. I hope the road didn’t give you too much trouble?”  

Isen doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Or even smiling. 

The lizard chuckles. “The spare room has been prepared for you, sir. The boathouse has also been cleared for your use.” 

Isen inclines his head to the lizard. “Thanks, Varan. Arol will handle things for a bit.” 

Briar isn’t quite sure what to do when Isen wanders off, trailing around the scaffolded path; the stilts barely wobbling under his bulk and weight. Arol seems to have the luggage under control, and is chatting familiarly with the greeter. 

Suddenly worried she’d be left behind in the skeletal village of planks and ladders, Briar follows after Isen, towards a lowset building.  

She stops at the door he’d disappeared through, and gives it a tentative knock. 

No response. 

She tries again. 

After a moment there’s a muffled groan. “Yes?” 

Briar cracks the door open, suddenly apprehensive about bothering the lord. She wishes she knew the protocol for such situations. 

The first thing she sees is Isen’s pack, discarded nearby. Then his jacket, in a heap on the floor.  

Before she understands the implications of the shed layers, her eyes come to rest on his back. 

It takes her a moment to work out what she’s seeing. That the building is open on one end, to accommodate the river. That Isen is in the water, leaning against a pier of some sort. 

Then her eyes widen, and she becomes painfully aware of her intrusion. She might be used to seeing Isen’s top bare, but knowing that he’s in the process of bathing has the sight hitting differently. 

She lets out a humiliating squeak of a noise, before turning hastily away. It is, however, too late to retreat. 

Isen sounds tired, but not mad. “Did you need something?”  

Briar closes her eyes. She can feel her whole face flush with embarrassment. ‘No. Sorry. I was just following you.’ 

“Right.” He’s still tired. But she can hear the amusement in his tone. “My apologies, I should have let you know where I was going." 

‘It’s okay. I’ll wait outside.’ 

“You can stay, if you wanted. I’m sure you’d like to wash the mud off too.” 

The suggestion winds her. She fumbles with a response, blinking at her feet several times before shaking her head. ‘I’ll wait until you’re done.’ 

She shuts the door firmly behind her, even as Isen’s wry laughter follows her outside.  

--- 

None of the villages in the Ophidian Lowlands are large enough to need an inn. There's simply not enough travel to the region to warrant accommodation. The closest thing the Lower Twin has is a spare room in the Elder’s house.  

It’s a stark place, furnished with a single bed and wardrobe, and dimly lit by the light of the doorway. Varan, The Lower Sister’s leader, had freshened the room up with clean bedsheets and some dried flowers in a vase. 

Briar eyes the single bed, warily. 

‘Where is Arol staying?’ 

“With a friend. They don’t have enough room for,” Isen gestures to his tail, “me, though. So, I stay with Varan.” 

‘And where am I staying?’ 

“Here. The bed is large enough for two, if you wanted to share.” Isen frowns. “Next time we’ll bring you a hammock. Most Lowlanders use them. Sleeping off the ground keeps the water out.” 

Briar’s not sure what her face is doing, but Isen takes one look at her, and backtracks. “We could also track down Arol. See if his friend has room for another. If not, I imagine somebody has a spare hammock somewhere...” 

Briar’s stomach knots with anxiety. Torn between imposing on a stranger and a lizard she barely knows, or potentially sharing a bed with Isen. The Serpent; reviled by the Pilgrims. And more pertinently, an unwed male. She really wishes she’d stayed at Riversreach.  

She bites her lip, almost hard enough to draw blood, and pulls herself together. ‘No. I don’t want to stay with a stranger.’ She steps into the bedroom. Gives the bed a wide berth as she lowers herself to the ground. ‘I’ll sleep on the floor.’ 

Isen frowns. “It’ll be uncomfortable.” 

She shrugs. ‘I’ve slept on the floor my whole life. I will be fine.’ She’s not entirely honest. Technically she’s slept in a ditch lined with hay and fur. It’s moderately better than sleeping on a hard surface.  

“Seriously, Legs. We’re close to the water. It will be much colder in the small hours. There’s no shame in sharing. If you’re worried about modesty, I can keep my hands to myself.”  

He’s not wrong about the cold. Just sitting on the floor gives her an idea of how uncomfortable the night will be. Perhaps she shouldn’t brush him off so quickly. Not that she’s in a hurry to share with him. But it might be worth considering the option more carefully. Looking past the scandal of the notion. 

She’s never slept with a man before. Never even slept close to one. In New Haven it had been forbidden for her to be even near a man who wasn’t family. Women had been watched closely, to ensure they weren’t cavorting with strangers, or breaking the rules of modesty. 

The people in Riversreach are freer with their touch. Briar didn’t know what to make of it at first. Had thought of the other servants as rude or indecent before realising that the Ophidians lived by entirely different rules. Seeing everyone else share light touches – bumped shoulders, brushed arms – is one of the main reasons she’s hadn’t been quite so put off when Isen had displayed these tendencies. 

But sharing a bed?  

She’s mortified that Isen would even suggest such a thing. Bed sharing is for family. For spouses. Not whatever she and Isen were. Servant and lord. Employer and employee. 

She shakes her head, firm, and begins to make herself comfortable. Her coat and boots are set out to dry and she uses her pack as a pillow. It’s only got clothes in it, so it works well enough.  

Isen lets out an exaggerated sigh. He sets his own clothes out to dry before closing the door and engulfing the room in darkness. “The offer remains if you change your mind.” 

She scoffs at the suggestion, but without the light there’s no obligation to sign a reply.  

Still, listening to Isen climb into bed fills her with envy. She’d manage well enough, but that doesn’t stop her from wishing for a blanket. Wishing she had the nerve to even ask for one. And though she staunchly tries to ignore the thought, it keeps resurfacing throughout the night. She keeps wondering how warm it would be, sharing the bed with Isen. And how long she could wait until he withdrew his offer to share. 

--- 

Wisps of conversation drift past Briar, barely registering, as she glares down at her drink. Her tongue wants to recoil out of her mouth, but she still sips at it, knowing that the coffee has something of an energising effect on people.  

Isen had been right, of course. Not that she’d admit it. She’d slept fitfully last night, waking every hour or so. Her back had ached upon rising. Some movement helps her body loosen, but does nothing to banish the bags under her eyes, or the cloudiness to her thoughts. 

The coffee doesn’t help. It just makes her jumpier. More likely to flinch when somebody bumps into her, and sets her heart pounding at the slightest of exertions. She concentrates so hard on staying present and focused that she barely has any awareness to spare towards Isen and their companions.  

Still, she takes in her surroundings with muted interest. Between the light of the sun and the guided tour Varan gives them, she’s able to paint a clearer picture of life in the Sisters.  

Built above the silt and reeds, the Lower Sister is a fishing village. They have the most established dock in the Lowlands, and receive what little trade makes it to the region. Most interestingly to Briar, the wooden buildings aren’t permanent; able to be taken apart and carried to higher ground in the case of severe flooding. In this part of the marsh, wood is scarce, and is treated as such. 

They cross the river at midday. The currents have settled enough for Varan to pole them over on a flat raft. Then they hike. 

The Upper Sister is located atop the steep cliff that cradles the far side of the Ophidia. A trail has been hewn into the cliff face, but the climb is still arduous. Briar is panting by the time they reach the top. Then her breath is stolen entirely by the view. 

She’d been too focused on the climb to note the height they’d gained, but with the trail finally below her, she’s able to take in her surroundings. 

The entirety of the sister village stretches beneath them. She’s struck by just how small the settlement really is. The marsh extends behind it, gradually transitioning into a thicker swamp, and eventually climbing up into the highlands, emerging as the forest. 

Varan catches her staring, and gives her a smile. “It’s really something, isn’t it?” 

She nods. 

Briar tries not to let her mind wander as much during their tour of the Upper Sister. Many of the buildings are sturdy and permanent, made from brick, with some even incorporating the surrounding outcrops of stone. The Upper is reserved for buildings that can’t be dismantled or easily relocated. There are workshops of several kinds – a forge, a kiln – and even a handful of shop fronts. 

Isen listens politely as Varan regales him with the finer details, pausing occasionally to ask a question. The focus of the tour is mostly on the plans in place during the thaw, and discussion of storage, rations, and evacuation procedures. 

Briar is happy for him to take the lead in conversation. Thankfully he doesn’t seem intent on forcing her interactions. Appears to read her detached mood. At least until lunch time. 

They’re treated to some kind of crayfish. The dish could rival the meals served at Riversreach – seasoned masterfully, and cooked to perfection. She and Isen have been served greenery with their food, while Arol and Varan eat only meat. Briar takes her time, picking carefully at the crustacean.  

Isen makes several comments in her direction, and she doesn’t process that he’s even speaking to her until he leans into view and signs her name.  

She blinks. ‘Yes?’ 

‘Are you okay?’ 

She’d been staring into space after finishing her food. It hadn’t taken long – she'd been ravenous after the day’s exercise. 

She forces a smile. ‘Fine. Why?’ 

Isen frowns. ‘You haven’t been talking. Listening.’ 

She flushes, caught out. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt.’ 

Isen stares her down, brows raised in exasperation. 

She looks away, chastened. ‘I’m a little tired. Yesterday was a long hike.’ (Walk. Travel) 

“Uhuh,” he says, deadpan, and bringing to Briar’s attention that the prior conversation had been entirely silent.   

Arol and Varan tactfully ignore the interaction. 

It’s close to sunset when they finish in the Upper Sister. Briar is feeling spent and overwhelmed by the time they make it down the cliff. Her muscles are jellied from exertion, and her mind is foggy from fatigue. So tired, she is, that when stepping down from the pier to the barge, she doesn’t brace for the wobble of the raft. 

Briar yelps as she loses her footing, certain she’s about to fall face first onto the wood, or worse – into the water. 

Someone grips her upper arm. Pulls her back firmly enough to steady her. 

“I’ve got you.” 

Briar takes a second to recompose herself. Still, she’s quite shaken when she looks up at Isen. 

He’s standing far too close – practically flush with Briar’s back – but for once she doesn’t care. 

‘Thank you,’ her fingers tremble as she signs. 

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “You’re welcome.” 

She doesn’t speak much on the way back. Not that she’d spoken, or rather, communicated, much before. But now the weight of embarrassment stiffens her body. She can’t lie about her state anymore, not when there’d been so blatant a display of her ineptitude. 

Her brooding must be noticeable, because Isen sighs over dinner. Reaches out to ruffle her hair.  

The action snaps her out of her miserable stupor. 

“Don’t fret so much. Missing your landing is hardly the worst thing to happen on that barge.” 

Arol snorts from his side of the table. “Pryden has fallen off at least twice.” 

Briar gapes at Arol. Struck with the image of graceful, arrogant Pryden, with his dagger sharp quips and lingering eyes. Falling off a barge. 

“You boys never could handle your drink,” Varan murmurs with a smile. 

Isen’s face crinkles. “We can handle them fine. Just not that swill you brew down here.” 

Arol stays late, reminiscing with Varan about some of their drunken escapades from older days. But when the sun sets and the fire burns low, Isen stretches and gives Briar a meaningful look. 

“I think it’s time we turn in.” 

Somehow Briar had been too tired to remember the bed situation. It comes back to her now.  

They both say their goodnights before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind them. Then there’s silence. 

Briar stares at the ground, trying to hide her nerves. She flinches when Isen’s arm shoots out, barring her path. 

“You’re sleeping in the bed tonight.” 

She recoils. ‘What? But I’m-’ 

“You are not fine. You look dreadful. You’re taking the bed, and that’s an order.” 

Panic begins to fill Briar at his commanding tone. To her humiliation, her eyes start to blur with tears. She hasn’t cried in months- and she has no intention of crying now. She turns her face away. Dashes the moisture. Holds herself stiff until the emotion passes.  

Isen softens. “Legs. I’ll take the floor tonight. Okay? I’m not going to touch you without your permission. I won’t even look at you if you like. But I cannot have my aid stumbling around like the undead. You will sleep in the bed tonight.” 

She doesn’t know what to say. How to refute him. The dim lighting gives an intimate air to their stare down, and it’s not long before Briar loses her nerve and drops her gaze. 

‘Is this... allowed?’ 

He tilts his head. “Is what allowed?” 

She gestures to the bed. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

Briar has to think on that question. The situation feels so wrong to her. How does Isen not notice it? How does he remain so unaffected? 

‘You’re more important than I.’ 

Isen blinks. He hadn’t expected an answer quite like that. 

“I... suppose. In title, yes. But we’re both people. Why should lineage entitle one person to the bed and the other to the floor?” 

Briar doesn’t know. She’d never thought to question these things before.  

Isen seems to be processing her discomfort, considering it closely.  

“The Pilgrims practice Conservatism, right?” 

Briar blinks at the sudden turn in conversation. It’s a relief to focus on something other than the space between them, and the bed looming before her. But she hadn’t expected to be discussing religion. 

‘Not quite. We migrated away from the mainland because the elders disagreed with several of its practices.’ (Migrated; travel, move. Practice; think, act, do.)  

“Which ones?” 

‘They believed Conservatism wasn’t modest enough. That the Patriarchs were too liberal. That changes within the church would lead to the loosening of values.’ She doesn’t care for the details, but can recite them, nonetheless.  

Isen winces. He’s heard the rhetoric before. “Did you and Stella practice it?” 

Briar nods. ‘It was called New Conservatism. And yes. Everyone did. Anyone who spoke out was...’ her hands slow and still. It takes her a moment to refocus. ‘Everyone did.’ 

There’s another silence. This one more thoughtful. Considering. Before Isen slithers a few inches closer. “I think that you are experiencing a bit of culture shock. It’s not unusual to those who move from home to live in foreign parts.” 

Briar shakes her head, disbelieving. ‘These aren’t foreign parts.’ 

“No? Are you not experiencing a sudden language barrier? Surrounded by completely different styles of living?” 

She shakes her head again, still in denial. She doesn’t like the way the conversation is turning. Doesn’t like how Isen is bringing it back to her. Personalising things again. 

“New clothes, new job, different companions, different rules... I’m quite certain, Legs. But it’s okay.” 

Briar sits heavily on the bed, taken off guard. ‘It’s not. It’s- I’m fine. There’s no problem. I can do this.’ 

He lowers himself before her. The naga equivalent of a crouch. “I know you can. I just want you to know that it’s okay to have doubts. To have questions. I went through something quite similar when I moved here.” 

Her hands are pressed to her face. She peeks through her fingers. 

Isen reads the question in her eyes and smiles. “It’s true. I was a mess. Completely embarrassed myself with my lack of knowledge. Can you imagine a lord who doesn’t know the number of settlements in his own lands? I had to hire Arol just to teach me about the area.” He leans back, offering another soft smile. “But that’s a story for another time.” 

She senses his focus honing back on her. Braces herself for more scrutiny. More uncomfortable conversation. But he only sits at the foot of the bed. 

“Rest. We have another big day tomorrow.” 

They have another stare down, but her heart is no longer in it. Seated so close to him, she can’t stand to meet his gaze too long. Finally, she narrows her eyes at him, before staring pointedly at the ground. 

He grins, raising his hands in surrender and slipping from the bed. “Of course.” 

Only when he’s curled up at the foot of the bed, jacket draped insufficiently across his coils, does Briar relax. She slips her boots off, and lowers herself to the mattress. Gets comfortable beneath the blanket.  

Her nose crinkles. The pillow smells like Isen. 

“Goodnight,” Isen murmurs. 

Briar hums a wordless reply, and falls swiftly into sleep. 

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Sketch in partial colour of Redemption era Parker and Eliot sitting side by side in the courtyard of their New Orleans base, in similar relative positions to when they had a heart to heart at the end of the hurricane job. Parker and her background are in colour, and she’s looking sadly down, hunched forward slightly. Eliot is in greyscale and wearing prison clothes, looking sad and serious. End ID] -

Day 29: alt. Prison

AU for The Turkish Prisoner Job, where Eliot gets stuck in the prison, and also the first part of the three-parter of ficlets, with the others on days 8 (dissociation, part 3) and 15 (experimentation, part 2). I know it’s backwards but that’s the way the days worked out 😅

Ficlet below the cut.

-

“Do exactly what they say,” were the last words they heard from Eliot for days, and they hadn’t even been addressed to the team.  He had been speaking to Romero, just as he was about to get released on a day pass by their marks, and then he was gone.  Taken away by prison guards under orders that overruled the detectives.

The confusion and surprise didn’t last more than a few seconds.

Sophie stepped in, had Breanna mute Eliot’s comm for all but her, and talked their client through how to proceed, keeping him calm and collected as he had to keep going now without a hitter for back-up.

The job had taken another turn, requiring a change of plan, new considerations, and they needed all of them involved to pull it off successfully, which meant it was two days before they had a chance to get back to Eliot.  If had been any member of the team other than Eliot, Parker would have been worried.

But it was Eliot and a stint in prison out of contact with his crew was nothing to him.

Regardless, she felt something unpleasant and annoying and she didn’t understand it.

“Babe, you okay?” Hardison asked, his image large in the screens as their long distance call connected.

Breanna had emailed him as soon as they lost contact with Eliot, just in case there was something he could do with his amazing exosphere hacking access. But the prison ran a closed network, no access from the outside even from the exosphere.

“It just feels wrong.”

Hardison frowned, “Eliot being in jail?”

“I don’t know. Yes. Maybe…”

For over ten years Parker had barely gone a day without one or both of Hardison and Eliot either right there beside her or talking in her ear. Now Hardison was gone, only reachable through a complicated video link thing or emails that took too long and were too impersonal, and Eliot’s voice was no longer there either.

“Babe?”

Parker realised she had let her mind wander and looked back to the screen.

She couldn’t place what she was feeling.

She was angry. Angry at Eliot for not just breaking out, angry at Harry for running the job so Eliot ended up in prison, angry with Sophie for letting Harry run the job, and angry with herself because it wasn’t Harry’s fault or Sophie’s fault.

This happened.  They did a dangerous job, especially Eliot, and this sort of thing could happen, and no one was to blame.

And she was anxious.  Worried about Eliot, which was stupid because it was Eliot Spencer and he was always fine.

“Parker? Talk to me.”

She looked up.

Hardison looked worried, sad.

She smiled slightly, feeling that rising warmth that came whenever he looked at her with so much emotion. The reminder that she wasn’t alone.

“I don’t like not having him here,” she said quietly.  She wanted Hardison to understand.

“I know,” he replied, “I’m sorry I’m not there right now.”

She nodded, “Well, you’ve got satellite stuff to do.”

That earned her only a sad smile, and she looked down at the keyboard.

“Harry going into the prison tomorrow?” Hardison asked, “Playing the lawyer.”

“Yeah. We can’t do anything until we know more.”

“I’ll keep trying to dig up intel from my end too. Got an algorithm running right now to cross-reference each of his aliases and his real name against email communications between government agencies, prison networks, rich folk…anyone who might want to lock him up.”

“That’s a long list. We’ve made a lot of enemies.”

And Eliot had a lot more still from before Leverage.

“Yeah. It’s gonna take a while,” Hardison replied, “So, wanna watch something together tonight?  I can stream from any country in the world and share the screen.”

“Sharknado?”

Hardison sighed, “We got access to pretty much any film that exists on the internet, and you wanna watch Sharknado.  Again.”

She grinned, “We can watch Sharknado II after.”

Sighing again, but smiling properly this time, he got to work finding the films, and they began their movie night.

-

Harry’s visit to the prison had three purposes.  The first, to see if there was a quick route to getting Eliot released.  The second, if that failed, to find out what had happened and why Eliot had been detained.  The third, to get an earbud back to Eliot.

This required what was, essentially, a pointless and entirely fabricated lawyer-client conversation between Eliot and Harry, which Parker mostly ignored in favour of watching Breanna attempt to find a way into the prison security system now they were parked close to the building in the food truck.

The culmination of this conversation was that no, it was not going to be quick and easy to get Eliot released because he reportedly had committed severe infractions within the prison, as observed by the guards.  Eliot had been moved to solitary because of these supposed dangerous acts, which were false but backed up by multiple guards.  He hinted that he had some idea of why, but the conversation was recorded and monitored, with two guards in the room at the time, so he couldn’t say more.

But the third task was successful.

About half an hour after Harry returned, and while they were still outside the prison, Eliot’s comm came online.

“Welcome back,” Sophie said, seeing the feed on the laptop screen appear.

“Thanks,” Eliot whispered, suggesting he suspected someone may be listening, “Romero okay?”

“Okay and rolling in it,” Breanna replied proudly.

“Job’s wrapped up, everything sorted, so now we just need to get you out,” Parker added, “Any idea what got you locked in there?”

“Think so,” he replied, “Sorta.  Pretty sure I’ve been ID’d.”

That was no surprise.  It was among the theories they had discussed.

“Who by?” Harry asked, “It has to be someone high up for them to get you moved to solitary and multiple guards confirming a false story to keep you there.”

“Dunno, but I heard someone talkin’ outside my cell.  Think they were on the phone, an’ they told whoever they were talkin’ to that they had me - said my name, not the alias’s - locked down.  My guess is they’re gonna transfer me at some point.”

“Weakest part of any transit is when the goods are being loaded into the vehicle,” Parker repeated information she had heard from Eliot years before, “That’s where we rescue you.”

Breanna shifted her screen to bring up several views of roads, “Look, I didn’t manage to get into the prison cameras, but I could get into some CCTV on the roads leading to the prison.  A prisoner transport is gonna require an armoured car, right?  And it’s gotta go down one of those roads.”

“We’ll be ready for it too, now,” Sophie added, “You can tell us when the transfer is taking place.  We’ll get everything prepared to attack the car, and when you give us the signal, we’ll move.”

Considering the number of times they’d waylaid and broken into armoured vehicles in the past, setting up the plan for dealing with this one - and contingencies in case of an escort, alternative routes, timings being off, and so on - didn’t take more than a few hours.  And, with the plan established and it already nearing midnight, they all went to bed.

All except Parker.

She tried sitting at the bar and then the desk and then on the stage, and finally wandered out to the courtyard to sit on the picnic table there. It felt very empty to be sitting on that table without Eliot next to her. But then most places she was used to sitting tended to have their hitter there too.

She felt stupid. Ridiculous. Eliot had been away from them undercover or kidnapped or on some side-hustle job loads of times and she never felt this unhappy about it. Hardison had been away loads too, working on those hacker things only he could do, and she felt sad but not like this. Not this icky, distracting, fuzzy feeling in her brain like something was really really wrong.

She pulled her earbud from her pocket and put it in her ear.

“Hey, Eliot?  You asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to listen to that podcast with all the facts. Wanna listen with me? We’re like six episodes behind.”

Eliot didn’t reply immediately. She heard a quiet background noise. His footsteps on a hard floor.

Then he spoke quietly, not answering the question.

“You doin’ alright, Parker?”

She tried to laugh properly but it didn’t work.  It didn’t sound like a laugh, even though she was meant to be good at grifting by now.

“I’m not the one sitting alone in a dark lonely cold prison cell.”

She could hear the smile in Eliot’s voice. The gentle, soft smile.

“I’ve been in a lot of prisons, Parker.  This one’s among the nicest,” he paused, and in it she could picture his expression perfectly. It was the kind, understanding, expression few people ever got to see.

The thought of it, so clear in her mind, finally made her understand what felt so wrong.

She was lonely.

She hadn’t been lonely in a very long time and now it hurt so much more than before.

“It’s just,” she began, looking down at her shoes on the bench, “First Hardison left. And now so have you.”

“Parker,” Eliot said softly, “I didn’t leave. I’m right here, an’ I’m always gonna be. Hardison might be a stupid number of miles away, but he’s right there with you too.”

“With us.”

“With us,” he accepted her correction without hesitating, “We’re not, either of us, ever gonna leave you. An’ I know right now it feels lonely, but you’re not alone. We’re here, Sophie’s there. Harry an’ Breanna are there. Hell, if you wanna call up Hurley I bet he’d answer any time of the day or night an’ probably make you talk to his damn cat.”

Parker laughed despite herself. She liked Hurley’s cat. Eliot didn’t, so the cat always sat on Eliot when they visited, purring contentedly while he growled at it to go annoy someone else, and trying to pretend there wasn’t a fond smile just on the verge of forming on his face.

Eliot left a long pause for his words to sink in, and for Parker to find the truth within them. When he spoke again it was in a more normal tone, saving her from falling too deep into emotions she couldn’t name.

“So,” Eliot said, “About that podcast. ‘Cus solitary’s pretty damn boring.”

Parker found herself smiling.

She already had it up on her phone, the first in their episode backlog ready to go.

“You hear it?”

The familiar theme tune started as she pressed play.

“I hear it,” Eliot replied, then added softly, just as the voices of the podcasters began, “Thanks, Park.”

She nodded although he couldn’t see, smiled, and settled in to spend the night happily with Eliot, even if there were miles and walls of concrete between them.

Parker went to sleep, still listening to that podcast with Eliot in her ear.

When she woke up, Eliot was gone.

His comms were off, and no amount of yelling into her earbud would get a response.

Harry went back into the prison, playing the part of his alias's lawyer again, but he was told that alias wasn't in the prison system. Never had been in the prison at all, according to the records. Hours of intense hacking from outside the walls and from the exosphere found that alias wiped entirely from the prison records, and Eliot's name was nowhere to be found either.

During the night, while his crew slept, Eliot had been made to disappear.

-

[hypersonic04]

Cosy Sunday

hello everyone! sorry for being MIA for a while, please accept this fluffy, domestic, cosy one-shot as my apology. also, the reference to talent show results at the end is purely for my own comfort because watching strictly come dancing on a cosy winter evening is the light of my life. enjoy my darlings!

word count: 1,764

I wake up to the sound of gentle cries from the crib next to our bed, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to gain an extra second of peace before the chaos of newborn-parent life begins. Before I can even get out of bed, I feel the mattress lift from behind me.

"I'll get her." He whispers to me as I turn my head, watching him lift her tiny body onto his chest. He shushes her, gently rocking her up and down, his hand nearly the entire size of her body.

"What time is it?" I squint to at the clock on the nightstand, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

"7AM, our girl slept all the way through." He smiles down at her as her small hands attempt to grasp at his bare chest. The combination of postpartum hormones and his gentle whispers to her make me emotional as I lie in bed, pulling the covers up under my chin and sniffling a little. He looks over to me and I smile sleepily.

"Do you want to sleep in mummy and daddy's bed, hm?" He says to her, lifting her up in front of him. Her feet scrunch up in her tiny onesie and he pouts at her, bringing her over to me.

He hands her over to me as he gets back into bed, sitting up and brushing a few strands of hair away from my forehead. "How did you sleep?"

"I slept well, thank you, my love." I smile softly, also sat up now and cradling the baby as he kisses me gently.

We sit in silence for a while, the soft brush of his thumb against my arm comforting as we lie together. It's around half past eight when Ross gets out of bed and makes us both a coffee, bringing it upstairs and putting the latest episode of Bake Off on while I feed her. It's a chilly day, the middle of October in fact, the trees surrounding our house now a golden-brown colour. Our dog sleeps at the edge of the bed, wrapped up in the white duvet like a baby in his own right.

"Do you have any plans for today?" I ask as I stand up with her in my arms, walking around the room gently after her feed.

Even now, after being together all this time, I blush at the sight of him shirtless in bed. He's got the covers pulled over his lap, a mug looking ridiculously tiny in his hands, his dark eyes following me as I walk towards him.

"I don't think so, darling." He smiles up at me, taking my free hand in his as I stand next to the bed and pressing a firm kiss to my wedding-ring-adorned knuckle. "Why, what are you thinking?" He squints his eyes a little and I giggle at his attempt to read my mind.

"I'm thinking about going for a walk this morning, and then going for a Sunday roast."

"A walk and a roast with my girls? The dream." He jokingly swoons at the thought and I laugh at him, running my fingertips through his hair. "Here, let me take her while you get ready."

I put my playlist on and get ready in the en-suite, laughing to myself when I hear him singing along to the 90's boy band songs I have on. For my outfit of the day, I go for a chunky knit sweater and jeans, complete with a pair of boots.

"I didn't realise you were such an avid Boyzone fan." I giggle as I stand in the doorway of the bathroom, blending my make up as I watch him sing the lyrics to her.

"She's just like her Uncle Matty, she's trying to sing." He smiles, fingers gently combing through her thick, dark hair.

Once I'm ready, I take her from him and get her dressed as he does the same.

"Look how cute your daughter looks." I grin as he makes his way downstairs, putting her into the pushchair his mum and dad bought us. It's beautiful - cream with big wheels, perfect for days like today.

"Oh my god." He throws his head back dramatically when he sees her in a white, teddy-bear-material onesie, the hood pulled up with little ears on. "I was going to say how did we make something so cute, but she's half you, so it makes sense." He wraps his arms around my waist from behind and presses a kiss to my neck, making me blush and giggle at the same time.

"Ross, she's literally your carbon copy." I smile, resting head on his next to me.

"True, very true." He raises his eyebrows in agreement. "Come on, Ollie!" He says to the dog after a moment, putting his collar and lead on.

With that, we head out, Ross holding the dog's lead and me pushing baby in her pram. It's not too cold now, the sky clear and the sun shining. We head into the woods, smiling at other people on their Sunday morning walks. I laugh as Ross throws the ball for Ollie, his little legs moving faster than I've ever seen.

"Do you want me to push?" He asks, turning around to look at me with a smile. I grin, knowing that he's asking to push the pram, rather than offering.

"Yes, please."

We swap, my arm linked through his as we walk together, his eyes fixated on his little girl bundled up in front of him. I didn't think it was possible, but watching Ross become a dad has made me fall in love with him all over again.

I glance over at him and wonder how I got so lucky. He looks so broad and tall, the navy fleece sweater he's wearing really playing into the whole DILF thing. His hair is pulled back into a bun, his large hands holding onto the handle of the pushchair, and I have to avert my eyes before it becomes weird.

"I love you." I say, breaking the comfortable silence and kissing his sweater-covered bicep. He presses a kiss to the top of my head in return.

"I love you more."

"You're so good at this."

"At what? Pushing the pram?"

"No," I giggle. "Being a dad. Being a husband."

"It's only because of you." He glances down at me, the corners of his eyes creasing as he smiles gently. "It's only because I'm your husband, because she's our baby." I swallow deeply in attempt to not cry in the middle of our walk. "Plus, you're a great mum, so it's easy to be a parent when it's with you."

"Stop, I'm going to cry." I sniffle and he laughs loudly at my emotional instability. I smack his arm teasingly, crouching down to put Ollie's lead back on as we reach the main road and cross to go to the pub.

We order our lunches, Ross sat with a pint in front of him as he feeds the baby. I steal a sip as he does so, still not used to the privilege of being able to drink again.

The pub we're in is so cosy - dim lighting, candles lit and an autumnal wreath on the door, dog-friendly too with Ollie asleep under the table. I smile to myself when I spot an elderly couple sat across from us, holding hands as they have their Sunday lunch. I think about how that will be Ross and I someday, reminiscing on the days when we were recently married and parenting our first baby.

We eat our roast dinner as the baby sleeps in her pushchair, both of us checking on her every two minutes. Conversations of work gossip and the Netflix show someone recommended makes up our lunchtime discussions, the restlessness of our daughter being the only reason we don't end up staying here all night. Ross downs the last bit of his pint, standing up and heading over to the bar to pay the bill. I swaddle her in her blanket again, pressing a small kiss to her head before placing her in the pushchair. We leave and head back the same way we came, Ross holding Ollie for a little bit on the way back. I smile to myself at how he still babies his beloved boy, despite having an actual child now. I can hear him talking to him, kissing him and ruffling the curly hair around his ears.

It's nearly dark by the time we get back, around 5pm.

I hear him running the tiny baby bath upstairs as I empty the dishwasher from this morning, attempting to calm her little cries by pacing the hall with her.

"See, this one is when mummy and daddy got married," he stands in front of the picture frames on the wall, pointing to one from our wedding day. "Look how pretty mummy looks." He tilts his head to the side with a soft smile on his face, swallowing and blinking harshly. "And this one is all your uncles! Look at Uncle George, he looks so cool there."

I make my way upstairs and assist him in bathing her, getting her dressed and brushing her hair gently. She's sleepy from her bath, yawning and rubbing her face with her tiny, scrunched up hands. I settle her down in her crib, quietly closing the door to our bedroom behind me before making my way downstairs, now in pyjamas with my make up off and hair up.

Ross is sat in the sofa when I get downstairs, feet up and arms crossed as he watches the football scores from today.

"You're such a dad." I tease as I stand beside him, running my fingers through his hair and leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. He rests a hand on my hip, holding me to him for a few more seconds before pulling away.

"I know, right?" He laughs as I sit next to him, my legs pulled up to me as I rest my head into his side. He changes the channel and puts the results of some tacky talent show on, making me smile at the fact that I know he hates it but is willing to endure it for me. His arm around my shoulders holds me to him, his free hand offering me a chocolate button from the bag he's been hiding in the cupboard. I accept gladly, closing my eyes and sighing heavily.

"You okay?" He murmurs into my hair, his words muffled.

"Yeah, just really happy."

[bunglegaydogs]

dazais plan

quick little ramble one

well this wont be quick

anyways

im fucking torn apart after the newest episode, because ive not been able to watch it until now because ive been busy.

anyways.

i am in shambles.

i know it sounds like wishful thinking, but i genuinely do think dazai has a plan. of course he does; asagiri isnt going to kill him off just like that without any good reason. unless there is a completely valid, reasonable, sound explanation, then no, i really dont think asagiri will kill dazai. there are too many unanswered questions, too many shut down paths should that happen. it'll pretty much tip the balance of the narrative slightly, shift the story. idk. anyways.

my point is, dazai cant die here. not like this. just like chuuya said when they fought lovecraft. this is not the place to die. they still have so much left to do together. he cant possibly leave him here now. not without a plan.

i just like to keep referring back to the lovecraft fight; "when have my tactics ever been wrong?"

this gives us a pretty clear indication that dazai's plans almost always follow through. we've seen instances where, no, they haven't. oda. 55 minutes. some parts of fifteen.

but these are all extreme cases. he could do nothing about oda, because he didnt know of moris involvement/plan. he could do nothing about oda, because oda had already made his mind up. he could do nothing about oda, because it was too late.

he could do nothing about gab, because gab had been changing the outcome of the entire thing using time travel; dazais no exception to that. if gab knows that dazai knows what he will do, he goes back in time and now knows that dazai knows what he will do, and can therefore get the jump on dazai, who is still in the stage of not knowing what gab knows. confusing lmao.

ANYWAYS SORRY.

my point is, only in the extreme cases where everything is doomed to fail from the start do dazai's plans fall through.

this is an extreme case where dazai's plan NEEDS to come through. it cannot crumble. the literal fate of the world depends on the agencys next moves, and they have to be careful and cautious of/about them. because, should they make one wrong move, everything's fucked.

and, that's the beauty of soukoku. the raw trust.

honestly, trust doesn't even put it into words.

it doesn't do their bond any justice. because it's so much more than that. they rely on each other, they exist within one another. they literally are one soul in two bodies. they exist WITH each other. there's no chuuya without dazai, and there's no dazai without chuuya. so, asagiri will not put chuuya into a world or a plan without dazai there, because they need each other. they need each other to be alive and well and fine. they need each other to pull through this, each playing their roles.

i dont know what kind of wack ass plan dazai has in mind. but i hope to god it comes through soon.

i think the anime really did ch 101 such a good fucking justice; something about that scene was so raw, so emotional, so beautiful. the colours, the expressions, the movements. i've always said this, but soukoku is like a private thing. whenever they're involved, it always seems like you're intruding on their moment. this is theirs. this isn't for the eyes of anybody else. the lack of music and the softness about the dead apple scene, the unity and trust and reliance in the lovecraft fight, the playful back and forth bickering when they rescue q, or at any other moment.

each and every moment between these two is something so special, so foreign and so delicate. like a glass flower. it's so beautiful, and it pulls you in. but you know better than to touch it so carelessly; you must handle it with care and attention. everything about this is important. each small glare, each tiny dent. each little glint in the light, each sharp edge, each smooth side. all of it is worth looking at, and all of it means something. even the most insignificant parts of it have a role to play in making it look so beautiful.

and that's what i think is so fascinating about soukoku. every small interaction, every dynamic, every word spoken between them; it all means something. even their stupid bickering. even their harsh glares. it's all important.

i may be rambling, but god idk. something about soukoku just makes me feral i guess.

the soft moments between soukoku are definitely my favourites.

dazai catching chuuya's falling body out of the sky, and laughing quietly about how he wants to doodle on his face. there's something so childlike and innocent, so pure about that. they get to be the kids they never got the be around each other. they get to relax, unwind. they get to live easy, and breathe easier when they're around each other.

the one panel of dazai gently holding chuuyas head as he rests in his lap. dazai gently cupping chuuyas cheek, nullifying corruption and taking away the absurd amounts of pain that chuuyas in. just in their own little bubble. quiet whispers. something about the way dazai makes no comment when chuuya collapses onto his lap once more, eager to let him rest. something about the way he smiles at him when he's not looking. something about the way he talks to others about him. something about the little comments he makes, without even mentioning chuuya's name, and everyone knows its about him (everyone being us ofc). something about the privacy of their partner/relationship, nobody else knowing the details. nobody else knowing how deep that trust runs between them. nobody.

it's just theirs. their little thing to have with each other. it's only theirs, and nobody can take it away from them.

not even asagiri.

because how can you rip someone's soul apart?

how do you kill half of a single soul?

anyways. im very tired. its half 4 in the morning right now, and im just so out of my mind and sad but happy about soukoku, and how much i fucking love them and their dynamic and could talk about them for hours. genuinely, it feels like i blacked out writing this, i just get out of hand and start going on and on and on and getting more fucking metaphorical as i go.

anyways, hope you enjoyed LMAO have a lovely day/night, wherever you are <3

[molly-locke22]

Hot summer night ♡ Jeremiah fisher x Fem!reader

Hi! this is my first time writing a smut fic and a fic in general so please don't hate or anything I'm trying!

This fic is for my girlies feeling insecure about their bodies i will be generally referring to girls who have hourglass bodies but if you want me to write another one with different body types just lmk!

Warnings! : oral (fem receving) / Protecting sex / Handjob / making out / Virgin reader

Ever since the first time you set your eyes on Jeremiah fisher you knew he would be the one. At least you hoped but you thought he could never really like anybody like you, these thoughts controlled your brain everyday you'd stare at the other girls those hourglass bodies and those perfect boobs not to big but not to small. You'd always compare yourself to them but Jeremiah would compare them to you.

You'd look in your mirror there's a party at the Fishers house tonight what to wear.. You'd grab a dress from your closet it was in this gorgeous emerald green colour! Perfect and you'd throw on your doc martens and rush out to your car. Once you'd arrive at their address nervous to be in such a crowded environment before getting out of your car you'd quickly touch up any makeup in your car mirror. One deep breath and your outside of your car ready.. well not ready to go inside you'd open the door and right away smell the alcohol.

Belly sees you and sends you a wave and a sweet smile. She's so beautiful you'd think to yourself I've heard her and Conrad have something going on. How cute they've known each other for like ever. You'd wish you'd have something like that with somebody. And by somebody it was Jeremiah. You'd find yourself pouring some punch into a cup and standing on the balcony admiring the beauty of the ocean it just shimmers like those eyes.

Speaking of those eyes Jeremiah pops up next to you ''Hey y/n i haven't seen you at all tonight did you just arrive?'' You'd stare into his eyes zoned out ''hello? earth to y/n'' He'd say trying to get you attention ''Oh sorry! Just zoned out'' You'd say faking a little laugh he'd laugh wow his laugh is so amazing ''You seem off are you okay?" He'd say slowly. Shit what do you say ''Uhm.. i- Yeah i'm fine why?'' You'd say stuttering a bit. ''You just seem different this summer, Last summer you'd never be out of your swimsuit but i haven't seen you swim once.'' His words running threw your head ''I... uhm..'' You'd get a couple sounds out of your mouth but barley anything. ''You know Y/n.. You can tell me anything i won't judge you.'' A deep breath. ''Just this summer I've gained some weight and I've been feeling a bit insecure..'' You'd say under your breath.

''Why would you be insecure your so beautiful'' Jeremiah would say, he sounds truthful but you don't trust it ''You don't have to say that I'm not that pretty compared to the other girls here like Shayla and her friends..'' You'd blurt out ''What are you saying! You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. You're not like them your.. uh how do i say it sexy.'' He'd say truthfully. Sexy!?!?! You're sexy to Jeremiah fisher!!! OMG you're freaking out and before thinking you say "You think IM sexy?'' jeremiah takes a moment to respond you get nervous ''Well.. if you think that's offensive then sorry- but yes your hot'' omg your trying not to jump in the air like a kid. with a bit of thought you kiss him. you pull back and one look at you and he kisses you again. You let out a little moan as he bites your lip. He'd push your hair back and cuff your cheek with his hands, god this felt good. He'd pull back ''Follow me.''

You do as he says and he leads you.. TO HIS BEDROOM OMG!! Were you about to get railed by JEREMIAH FISHER! Right as the door closes and locks he picks you up your legs rapped around his torso and his hands on your ass. He kisses you he squeezes your ass and you moan a bit while your mouth opens a bit he slips his tongue into your mouth. He lays you on his bed and gets on top of you. His bed was so comfy! He takes his shirt off... omg his abs were so hot you put your hand on his rock hard abs ''Like what you see princess'' He'd say with a little smirk. You'd take your dress of leaving you in a lacey white bra ''Like what you see?''

You'd say ''Of course princess'' You like that little nickname. He'd start kissing you again leaving hickeys down your neck. You'd let out soft moans. As he sucked at your neck you'd tug at his golden hair. He'd leg out a whimper. Wow Jeremiah fisher likes his hair being pulled.. keep that in mind. "Jere..'' You'd say softly ''Mhmm?'' he'd keep kissing you ''I- uh.. Ive never done this before...''

He'd look up at you ''Your a virgin?'' he'd say. You'd nod ''wow who knew well.. I'll be gentle.'' He'd say then wink ''Wait..'' You'd say ''What is it princess?'' He'd say in such a.. sexy voice you could feel your panties getting wetter every time he talked ''Will... uh it.. h-hurt?'' you'd finally spit out ''Aw is princess scared?'' You'd look embarrassed.. Shit i think I'm not sexy anymore.

''Love.. It'll hurt at first but i swear after it'll feel so good. Have you ever masturbated?'' Well you have but only twice one time you'd just watched a movie and you were so touch deprived you needed a little pick me up. ''Uhm.. yes only a couple times though'' you'd say softly ''Well if it felt good i'll make you feel so much better sweetheart'' god he had a way of saying everything in such a seductive way ''ok..'' He'd continue kissing you and sucking at your skin you'd grow inpatient by the seccond ''I'll show you how gorgeous you are'' He'd say before pulling your lace panties off and throwing them to the side your first instinct was to push your legs together but he'd just push them away again gaining him access to your pussy. He'd leave kisses in your inner thighs before softly licking the outside of your cunt. You'd moan, he'd swirl his tongue around your clit. ''Ohh fuck jere'' You'd moan his name and grab his hair. He'd keep going eating your pussy like it was his last meal. Put push your hips up. ''Fuck jere I'm gonna cum'' he'd keep going waiting for you to realese. You'd cum on his tongue and he'd eat all of it up he was so hot. ''You taste amazing sweetheart.'' he'd say

''Jere please.. I'm ready'' you'd say ''Alright princess i'll give you want you want'' He'd say as he pulls his pants down his arouzel in full sight. God you didn't know if you could take that ''before we start lets get that bra off'' He'd say as he unclips your bra very quickly.. He's good at that. ''You ready princess?'' you'd nod ''Use your words.'' He'd say ''Im.. r-ready'' you'd say right after that he'd slide his cock into you like he was waiting for this moment all his life. You'd moan sharply ''Don't worry sweetheart it will feel good in just a moment'' He was right that pain turned into pleasure quickly ''Ohh fuck jere'' You'd moan loudly ''Keep it down sweetheart i love to hear you but do you want other people to?'' He was right- He'd pull out and flip you over onto all fours and he'd go inside you again you'd moan loudly and he'd hold your hair pushing you back and forth on his dick.. ''Fuck Y/n your pussy is so tight'' You didn't really know what that meant but took it as a good thing. You'd hear him whimper.. That really turned you on. ''Jere! fuckk'' You'd scream his name into his pillow. He'd go harder and you can hear him whimpering over the party music outside his bedroom. ''Lets cum at the same time princess'' You do exactly as he says and cum all over his dick ''Fuck that was so good jere..'' You'd say ''I told you it would be. Now lets get you cleaned up.''

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

Concept: Around ten years after the events of Crooked Kingdom, 25-year-old Captain Inej Ghafa frees Maya Olsen from a pleasure house in Ketterdam. Maya is looking for revenge against the man who put her in her position, a man who she knows nothing about except his name: Kaz Brekker.

Tags: @wraith--2 @lunarthecorvus @just2bubbly @real-fragments7 @cartoon-clifford @origami-butterfly @lady-a-stuff

If anyone wants to be added let me know :)

Content Warnings: in more general terms I want to remind people to be aware of the nature of Kaz and Inej's experiences and relationship since even if I'm not directly addressing these things they tend to be implicit in any writing about them, but specifically to this chapter there's grief, reference to wounds, and references to violence.

Note: sorry this it’s been a few days and this may have a few typos; it took longer than usual because I had to write it on my phone 🖤

Chapter 71 - Jesper

Jesper was pretty sure Kaz was avoiding him, but it didn’t matter because Jesper was avoiding Kaz too. He was sitting upstairs, fidgeting and trying not to think, when voices below the open window caught his attention. The master bedroom looked over the gardens, with a perfect view of the paving stones beneath what was, at brighter times of the year, usually a beautiful pagoda. Currently the colours were muted or non-existent, but the trail of where its many plants grew and curled remained evident in the glittering, cool sunlight. The wind was cold but lower than it had been the last few days, and as Wylan and Aimee appeared on the patio it didn’t seem they minded the chill. Jesper watched as Wylan pulled one of the garden chairs out from beneath the table into its own space, before stepping back to let Aimee sit down.

“… obviously,” Wylan was in the middle of saying, “it’s all up to you,”

Aimee nodded eagerly, and Jesper caught the bright flash of metal in Wylan’s hand as he held out a pair of shears for her to take. Aimee brushed her long hair over each shoulder, then gripped half of it tightly in her fist as she reached to take the shears.

“Are you sure-?”

Aimee had begun to cut before Wylan had finished asking the question. She giggled, holding out the limp clump of hair she’d cut- that must have been a foot long - away from her face and staring at with some kind of giddy relief. She’d cut it a little above her shoulders, slightly raggedly, and the genuine joy on her face was undeniable. After a momentary glance at Wylan, which gained a reassuring nod, she dropped the long clump of hair to the paving stones and tightened her fist around the other half. Jesper smiled.

A muffled banging sound on the landing suddenly caught his attention and he leant round the edge of his door to see Inej being pulled off the window ledge above the stairs by Nina. He blinked.

“Are you… okay?”

Nina looked over her shoulder at him for a brief moment, before turning back to Inej as she said.

“Sleepwalking,” said Nina, before giving Inej a firm shake of her shoulders.

Inej swayed and then suddenly her knees were buckling and Jesper was diving across the hallway to help Nina hold her up.

“Inej?”

Inej groaned softly, and after Nina shook her once more finally seemed to come awake. The dark circles beneath her eyes had grown over the past few days and her eyelids were heavy. She leant between Jesper and Nina, breathing heavily, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings.

“Where did… where…?” her voice was weak.

Jesper helped her to the bannister so she could use it to hold herself up without his and Nina’s arms on her.

“Stop him,” she whispered, blearily, “Stop… you have to…”

“Inej,” said Nina, ducking slightly to put her face level with Inej’s, “Inej, can- Inej,”

Inej still did not look up at her. She swayed where she stood, her lips still moving but her voice slipping away with the same feverish words falling silent to the still air.

“I’ll take her to Kaz,” said Nina, after a moment more of this had passed, “Maybe he can get through to her,”

Jesper nodded. He eased Inej forwards and led her to Nina’s arm, then kept an eye on the pair until they’d vanished from sight down the first stairway. Jesper paused for a moment, then turned away. He was not ready to go upstairs and he did know when he would be, but he also couldn’t go down and face speaking to Kaz yet. It was only after he’d heard the front door slam shut that he ventured down the stairs to find some food, and a while after that he’d leaned slowly around the living room door.

Inej was awake, leaning on the arm of the sofa with both of her hands wrapped around a glass of water. Nina perched on one of the armchairs, leaning forwards to Inej as she spoke.

“About 4 hours, in total,” she was in the middle of saying, “So not long enough,”

“In total?” asked Inej, sipping her water again

“Three hours before you came downstairs, about an hour since Kaz left,”

Inej seemed to pause for a minute, then shudder and look around her with considerable surprise.

“We’re downstairs,” she said.

“… yes,”

“We were upstairs,” Inej whispered, “We…”

Nina frowned.

“You don’t remember waking up?”

“You were sleepwalking,” said Jesper from the doorway, apparently taking Nina by surprise with his appearance.

She jumped slightly, swearing under her breath. Jesper laughed softly.

“Sleepwalking?” Inej repeated incredulously, finally forced fully awake.

“Ready to climb out the window,” Nina nodded, “We woke you up and I brought you downstairs; you spoke to Kaz and then fell asleep again in the kitchen,”

Inej blinked.

“I’ve sent messages to Fiona,” Nina told her, “Asking her to look at you and Maya, but I haven’t heard back yet,”

“I don’t know that Maya will- ” Inej cut off suddenly, “Where’s Kaz?”

Nina scowled.

“The Slat, apparently,”

“He left?”

“Of course he did. I’d say he’s coping with this stab wound about as well as he coped with the one you got ten years ago,”

Inej laughed softly, then winced.

“I’ll get you some more water,” said Nina, getting to her feet and whisking the empty glass from Inej’s hands, “and send another message to Fiona,”

Inej opened her mouth, but Nina was already gone. Jesper smiled at her, and she patted the cushion at her side.

“Come here,” she said, “Talk to me,”

Jesper sat on the corner of the sofa and let Inej lean into him, her legs pulled up close to her chest and tilting onto him as she moved into the arc of his arm.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head against his shoulder.

She suddenly felt far more vulnerable than she had just moments ago, folding into herself as she spoke to him.

“Mati en sheva yelu,”

“That’s not only what I meant,” she whispered

“I know,”

“But… it won’t,”

Jesper leant his head on top of hers.

“I know that too,”

Inej shuffled a little and Jesper thought she might want to pull away, but after a second he realised she was nestling closer. He listened to her breathing for a moment, so much louder than his own. He wasn’t sure it sounded right; too loud and too rattling.

“We should talk,” she whispered

“What do you think we’re doing now?”

“Jesper,”

He sighed.

“You need to sleep,”

“And you need to talk. So compromise,” she whispered, “Talk to me. Tell me everything, until I fall asleep,”

They must have talked for over an hour. More than once Inej seemed to drift and Jesper paused, ready to ease her onto the cushions and let her sleep. But without fail she would notice the silence, and gently tap his arm.

“You can say it,” she whispered at one point, thinking he had stopped because he could not bring himself to continue.

Maybe he had. Maybe he was using her as an excuse. But he took a breath, closed his eyes, took Inej’s hand in his own. And he kept talking.

Inej didn’t fall back to sleep, and after a while of sitting in silence she raised her head slowly.

“Where are Aimee and Kiada? Are they alright?”

“I haven’t seen Kiada,” said Jesper, “I think she’s still asleep. And Aimee, I believe, is outside with Wylan getting a haircut,”

Inej smiled.

“I should speak to Maya,”

“You should go back to sleep,”

“I’ll sleep better tonight,” she said, already getting to her feet, “But if I convince Maya to let Fiona heal her it’ll be easier to move her from the house,”

Jesper didn’t miss the wince Inej tried to suppress as she stood up, or the hand that briefly drifted to her side where Alby’s knife had struck. He hesitated, then said:

“You don’t have to rush,”

Inej just gave his hand a tight squeeze, then left the room. The empty air crowded once more with the thoughts Jesper did not want to think, but it was infinitely better now he’d said them out loud.

[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 9, Part 6

Onyx finishes their last day attending active high school solo

Onyx: Anyone seen Mrs T

Mrs Hensley: For your information Mrs Tinker is taking the younger class today, you’ll just be stuck with me

Onyx and Carson pull faces at each other over Amie’s desk. Mrs H is not a favourite of theirs. She is much more strict than Mrs T and Carson won’t soon forget when she yelled at him for not being in class before class even started. The idea of an hour of math led by her does not fill the soul with joy.

Mrs H: For today’s lesson we shall be focusing on the pie chart. Now there are several types of pie chart…

Darwin: *whispers* Apple or raspberry

William: *whispers* Definitely apple

Darwin: *whispers* Hot with ice cream, the only right answer

Mrs H: We will be focusing on teaching you two types which come in different forms, and yes- this will be on your exam

There is a general murmur of discontent through the class at the idea of exams.

After the class draws to a close Onyx realises the girl they gave Halloween candy to is sitting behind them, and decides to go say hi. She’s a little confused at first, after all she never saw their face under the helmet, but she gladly goes to lunch with Onyx and their friends, explaining that the bus from her town to the school only started recently.

Mr A: Pancakes. Were you paying attention in class

Onyx: Yes I was. You know my brother is starting this week so you’ll have to refer to me by my name soon

Mr A: But Pancakes is your name

Zhafira: *whistles* Wow, what a jerk

Onyx: I think he just finds calling us by our last names easier, he seems pretty daft for a principal if I'm honest

Carson: What did you do in art then

Scarlett: Oh we got to do these magazine collages, trying to represent one colour through various images

William: *sighs* I miss Mrs T

Onyx: You want to check out the roller rink?

Carson: I’ve still got some science homework to do, sorry Nyx

So Onyx goes and mucks about on the computer until it’s time for science class. Something glitched though and everyone got called to class at 3pm and the class day ended at 3:15... I have no explanation.

Back home Bob has the house to himself and Ginger while the younger Pancakes are off to their after school activities, Onyx has cheer-leading and Fergus has drama club. Bob is pretty happy with how the visit he and Eliza paid to the social worker went. They seemed to make a good impression and the woman assured them they were being put on the wait-list. Bob doesn’t normally like the idea of cheating his way through something but has called Aaron asking if he can keep an ear out for any situations that could get him and Eliza an infant sooner.

At the moment he’s running names through his head. If they’re lucky and get a young enough one they should be able to pick a name. The drone beeps reminding him that he’s meant to be talking to his fans, whoops, lost the train of thought there. Bob is able to cook a little on auto pilot these days but he should be following along with the baking closely to avoid disaster. Luckily the cake comes out perfectly! All ready for Fergus' birthday.

As Bob leaves for shift the kids arrive back and Onyx goes straight to setting the table.

Eliza: Are we ready for dinner

Onyx: Yes, I’ll grab Fergus

Eliza: I think you two should know I got promoted today

Fergus: YES! Treat time

Eliza: Why do you say that

Onyx: Mum last promotion we got the treehouse

Eliza: That was for rebate day

Fergus: *scoffs* Like that’s a real day

Ginger: *whines* I want to go walkies

Onyx: I know Ginger, I know, just let me finish this homework

Ginger: *whines* Hurry up, it's been 15 years

Onyx: Alright, pie chart done. Where’s your harness

Ginger: *barks* in my pockets

Onyx sets her up and then the pair head out for a night walk. Luckily they live in a good area so Onyx isn’t worried about their safety.

President, just two steps away from the top of the corporate ladder! Eliza feels proud she’s managed to get this far. The promotion also came with some bonus vacation days she’ll be able to use as substitute maternity days when they can get an infant. She continues the needlework she was doing and despite pricking herself once or twice finishes it off nicely.

Ginger: *barks* Is it bedtime mother

Eliza: Don’t worry Ginger, as soon as Bob gets back and eats, we’ll go to sleep

Ginger: *barks* I call dibs on the middle of the bed

Bob had another uneventful shift, before he can get a promotion he needs to increase his fame and baking. Nevertheless despite being gloomy he feels like it’s slowly getting closer. After finishing his meal he heads to bed to find Eliza sitting up awake.

Eliza: What did Aaron say? Can he pull any adoption strings?

Bob: He’ll put the word around to keep an ear out but it could take some time. Don't worry, it'll happen

Previous ... Next

[dark-overlord-of-rainbows]

Drawn Apr 30 2023 I reused a bunch of my old character designs and some adopt I and my friend had never used to throw in this universe so I was redrawing some characters I haven't touched in so, so long... Not all of them, also idk why some are cut off like that? this is an old edit If you've attacked me on artfight before there's a chance you've seen a couple of these before I remember some of the ways I was trying to vary their looks but man so many of them have soft faces and big round ears.. I guess I still default to that but I've been trying to work on it a bit more since... still not perfect but y'know To be fairer to myself from back then though, this might've been my first time trying to vary the shape of the ears of a bunch of characters that weren't splatoon characters (Splatoon was actually indirectly the reason for me starting? More specifically: Because I was drawing splatoon characters during artfight, I noticed how differently people were doing their ears, and so I practiced varying my own characters ears with my cephalopods first based on the different styles I saw) and this is also missing quite a few of the other characters that I had done here, some of whom I did branch out a little more. And to be clear! I think there is some stuff I did well and can pull from again, I'm just not as proud as I once was. Anyway I'll talk about the parts I do remember since I was playing with style here

The one at the with the grey/purple eyes at the top, I don't think I had ever really used a palette like that. Sometimes I want to give a character eyes that - depending on the lighting - looks different colours (some people have this irl, people with eyes that are ambiguously gray/blue/green for example), so I was kinda wondering if making it like a gradient (that'd change which colour is more dominant) would work as one way of representing that? with another character (different universe) I've also tried making the eye one colour and putting the shine of the eye as a different colour instead of the white that everyone else got (it was also done a little different) With the character here just an ambiguous, in-between grey/purple would work (although if I'd done that I'd totally have forgotten my intention with them because I was so bad at writing this crap down.) but the other one I mentioned it wouldn't work because it was supposed to go between blue and red, and if I just did an inbetween colour... well, that's just purple. I didn't want it to be purple. ever. Liam up there (second from top, brown hair) is drawn with my right (non-dominant) hand (Sorry yes I'm one of those left-handed weirdos...) I wanted this cast to be a little more whimsical~ As an aside it is always very funny seeing people talk about challenges drawing with the non-dominant hand and refer to it as a "left hand drawing challenge". Lefties winning The blond with the hazel eyes, well, I kinda just realized I've never given any characters hazel eyes (amber as well). I was trying something else with the eyes there since they're the only one with that.... it kinda looks like a chip out of the iris? it's not the shine but it looks like how some artists do the shine out of the eye. not sure They were also an adopt I never used. The lower orange haired one's the only one without the outer outline for the eyes as well... With Ciara (lower right, red hair) and Aaron (her brother, not pictured) I'm not sure if I was specifically going for sectoral heterochromia with them? I've drawn Eliza before with yellow, albeit human not cat-like eyes before, but this is technically a return to form for her I can't remember what I was thinking with anyone else. did not realize I'd be mostly talking about eyes here either

[legends-of-apex]

‘Only If For A Night’ Ch.2 | Tangerine x Reader

{Click here for series masterlist}

rating: M for canon-typical violence, threat, injury detail and profanity

word count: 2,800

chapter summary: After you agree to go with them to their employer, Tangerine and Lemon bring you to your safe house to pick up your things before going on the road. Of course, things are never that easy in their line of work. The reader isn't referred to as being any specific gender. Enjoy <3

'Can I grab my things before we go?' You asked, catching Tangerine's eye in the rearview mirror. His gaze felt like it stung you with how bright it was, how blue.

Tangerine took a long inhale. His ringed fingers tapped the driver's wheel with slight impatience. He really hated jobs where their target was a variable. Corpses don't talk much. Lemon shared a look with him, one that made him sigh.

'Yeah, alright then. I suppose we have ten minutes to spare.'

A wave of the new car smell hit you from your place in the back seat. Yet their car definitely wasn't new but it had been valeted to appear as though it was. The car looked like it cost more to rent for a few days than a holiday home would. Tinted windows contrasted heavily with the sleek, dark silver exterior and the dashboard looked like it probably let the car drive itself if need be. All this and yet the air conditioning was broken on a day so muggy that your throat burned.

As you fumbled with the seat belt you caught sight of an array of different license plates stashed beneath the passenger seat, the pile splayed out like a fan. There were some whose layouts you didn't even recognise. Different colours, different years all ready to be changed at a moment's notice.

 The place you'd been staying was only a few streets away but Tangerine circled the block three times before pulling in. For a moment you thought he was being overcautious but there was no such thing in this situation. You were grateful that he was taking your safety, his job, seriously.

'Stay here until I give the all-clear.' He ordered.

You looked on through the tinted window as he got out of the car, straightened his suit jacket and buttoned it as he walked towards your building. The sun glinted off a gun strapped to his side before he tamed his jacket from the wind.

You suddenly became acutely aware that you were trusting these men, two assassins named after citrus fruits, with your life.

 'Do you like Thomas and Friends?' Lemon asked from the passenger seat, snapping you out of your thoughts.

'Sorry?' You thought you'd misheard him.

'Do you like Thomas The Tank Engine? From the show Thomas and Friends.' He clarified.

'The kids show?'

'Yeah, it's a lot more than that actually-' His phone pinged loudly, interrupting him. The sender's name was simply an emoji of what looked like an orange. 'Tangerine says the coast is clear.'

 Tangerine was confused. Why did flat number 8 come before number 6 in your building? He glanced between the doors, each as old and poorly painted as each other. Then he realised that the brass number '9' that hung, half-bolted to the door, was upside down so it looked like a '6'. He moved it back into place with his finger, only for it to swing back down again like a pendulum.

He stood waiting at the door of your safe house if you could really even call it that. The flat's front door barely locked and the walls were paper thin. Even the floorboards sounded as if they were just one heavy step away from caving in. But it was quiet, unsuspecting.

 You spared Tangerine a glance as you fished out your keys and unlocked the rickety door. He wasn't leaning against the wall, probably too afraid of getting dirt on his suit. You felt his gaze on you, bright and burning still. He was studying you, trying to figure you out. His eyes on you felt like fire licking at your flesh. It stung your nerves in an almost pleasant way. But you hated that it seemed like he was analysing you, dissecting you with his icy gaze.

Lemon shouted to say your flat was clear before you fully registered that he'd even gone inside.

Tangerine nodded his head for you to go in ahead of him so you did, hearing him close the door behind you with a loud squeak of the lock and the distinct sound of the flat number scraping against the crudely painted wood. The landlady wasn't kidding when she told you every inch of metal on that decaying door needed oiled.

After just one step inside, the unsettlingly loud floorboards greeted you as a spring morning would a returning songbird.

'Just grab what you need, yeah?' Tangerine instructed, clearly anxious to get on the road.

You didn't bother telling him that you wouldn't need long to gather your things. Being on the run meant you couldn't really take anything other than the bare essentials with you. You missed your everyday comforts and non-essentials that you hadn't had time nor space to stuff in your duffle bag that night.

 Tangerine positioned himself at your bedroom door and watched Lemon wandering around your flat. A hand stuffed in his trouser pocket flashed the smooth silk lining of his jacket and the waistcoat beneath. His dark blue waistcoat was tailored specifically for him, it seemed. The pinstriped fabric hugged his every curve and edge. Everything about him looked expensive, not naturally but definitely by design.

You threw your duffle bag on the bed and began stuffing your things inside. Floorboards creaked loudly with your every step. It surprised you that those floorboards even supported a bed, even if it was small. You'd had to learn the hard way to wear shoes in the apartment if you didn't want a foot full of splinters.

 'Any of that yours?' Tangerine asked. 'The blood.'

It took you a moment to realise what exactly he was referring to. The concern on his face took you by surprise as did the gentleness in his eyes as he looked to you for an answer.

'No.' You replied and he nodded, shifting his weight to the other foot before turning his attention back to Lemon.

The clothes you'd worn to work the night it happened dangled, blood strained, from a drying screen by the yellowing window. Despite you scrubbing them for hours the blood never did seem to leave the fabric. So now your garments hung like bunting cut from the most brutal cloth until you figured out what to do with them.

To an untrained eye, it could have been wine spilt from some jolly night that soaked them but Tangerine knew better. He'd had blood or wine, sometimes both, sunk into the fibres of his clothes on more occasions than he ever hoped to count. Wine was a great deal more difficult than blood, he found.

 You heard Lemon coming before you saw him, his movements easy to track with the creaking boards beneath his feet. 'Bet you'll be glad to get outta this place then, eh?' He asked.

'You haven't told me where you're taking me yet. It could be some guy's dungeon for all I know.'

The pair of assassins looked so out of place in your shitty little hideout. They looked too expensive, too vibrant against the backdrop of greying walls and peeling paint. They reminded you of full-colour comic book characters bursting with paint that were dropped into some old black and white film. Two mediums too contrasting to mesh.

 You'd just zipped your bag closed when you heard a familiar squeak from the hallway. The floorboards creaked as if a pair of heavy feet just stepped inside. You froze.

Surely, you hadn't been found already.

The look of fear on your face alerted Tangerine to the sound. Lemon pulled his gun as Tangerine sent a flash of metal twirling from his trouser pocket. They shared a look and Tangerine nodded his head towards you before stalking out of the room.

Whatever silent conversation they had, they each knew exactly what they needed to do.

They acted quickly. Lemon stepped towards you, motioning for you to keep low with an outstretched palm aimed towards the floor. He looked over your bedroom window for a potential escape route in case any gun that went off wasn't Tangerine's.

A gun never went off but you did hear a smack, a thud. Then silence.

 'Tang, you alright?' Lemon called out, his gun pointed at your bedroom doorway.

'I'm alright.' Came his reply, his breath clearly ragged. 'Can't say the same for this poor bastard.'

You cautiously followed Lemon into the hallway to see Tangerine standing over a body, his chest heaving. The pair shared a look. Again, a silent conversation you could only imagine amounted to Tangerine confirming he was alright despite the blood splattered across his collar like red blossoms floating in a clear pond.

'Is he dead?'

'As a doornail.' Tangerine confirmed, the intruder's body lay crumpled like a puppet with severed strings at his feet.

He wiped his knuckles clean with a handkerchief, blood speckling the white fabric. Covering his knuckles sat a golden knuckleduster, alongside his set of golden rings. You watched for a moment, mesmerised, as he unloaded the man's discarded pistol and checked the magazine before tucking the gun into his waistband.

 You didn't have time to feel relieved that the threat was dealt with as they ushered you out with your packed bag. But as you reached the front door, you turned around and walked right back in.

'What the hell are you doing?' Tangerine asked as you approached the body. 'We need to go. Now.'

You ignored him and turned the man's body over. Still warm. His head lolled at an odd angle, his neck broken. His dark eyes bulged strangely, the irises reminded you of dark buttons sunk into a pool of melted wax. It was easy enough to tell what had happened. Tangerine hit the man across the cheek with a heavy blow and then snapped his neck before he could retaliate.

'You robbing his corpse? That's cold, man.' Lemon's voice bounced off the empty walls as you patted the man down.

'I'm looking for ID! If someone's come to kill me I at least want to know who.'

It could have been a lot of people. You knew there was a hefty price on your head amongst Hollow Eyes' rivals. But this was the first time anyone came so close to killing you and despite the fear, the adrenaline, coursing through your veins you wanted to know more about this man.

The fact that he'd just died trying to kill you dawned on you. Tangerine had snapped his neck without so much as a second thought and Lemon was ready to put a bullet in the next person that walked through your door. That frightened you but was a strange comfort at the same time. These men you'd met a mere hour ago just took the life of someone else in order to keep you alive. It was a testament to their commitment to their job if nothing else.

 Tangerine stood over your shoulder, peering down at the man. 'There. He's a Blackjack, looks like.' He pointed to a tattoo at the bottom of the man's neck.

He recognised the tattoo as one he'd seen on men who frequented the same information hubs as he and his brother. It was a strange symbol; The clubs and hearts pips commonly found on playing cards except their colours were inverted. To an untrained eye, it just looked like a very obvious mistake but to those familiar with it knew that it marked someone to be wary of. Every member of the Blackjacks had a pair of pips on their necks with inverted colours. Tangerine couldn't help but think the tattoo looked as idiotic on this guy as it had the other Blackjacks he'd had the displeasure of meeting.

 'So he's not working for Hollow Eye?' Lemon asked, visibly confused.

Tangerine drew his brows together. 'Did you even read the files I sent you? Actually, don't answer that.' He didn't want them to look unprofessional around you, even if you weren't the one who hired them. 'No, Hollow Eye himself hasn't sent anyone to kill our friend here yet that we know of and let's hope it fucking stays that way.'

The man didn't have any ID on him so you gave up your search and joined the two men who now stood in your doorway, clearly ready to leave. You were quiet as you descended the stairs but Lemon and Tangerine chatted amongst themselves like they were discussing a football match.

'Blackjack's are the guys who take the whole 'eye for an eye' thing very seriously, aren't they?' Lemon asked but Tangerine just shrugged. 'Well, you might want to find out cause' you did just kill one of them and they usually travel in pairs.' Lemon turned to you. 'You didn't piss off the Blackjacks and all, did you?'

'Lemon-' Tangerine warned.

 You hadn't been paying attention to them. The image of the man dead on your floor fogged your mind even as you stepped out into the open air. If the Twins hadn't been there then you would have come home later to that man waiting for you. It would have been you laying dead on those creaky floorboards, not him. The thought chilled you to the very bone. First Lemon and Tangerine found you and now the Blackjack? Three people in one day. How had you slipped up so badly?

'That man knew where I was staying...How did you even find me?' Was all you could really manage to say. Your entire safety net shattered and it felt like your life was being ripped out from beneath your feet again. That makes two times in as many weeks.

You just so happened to catch Tangerine's eye as you looked to them both for an answer. He saw then on your face the desperation, the defeat and the guilt. You looked like you thought you'd slipped up, maybe even that you deserved this, and he had to resist every nerve in his body screaming at him to comfort you and tell you that wasn't true.

'Word travels fast among people like us. It would've taken one informant who saw you walking home one day. That's it.' Lemon piped up, sensing that you were anxious. But whilst he sensed your worry, he also couldn't help but try and sate his curiosity. 'What did you even do to make someone want you dead anyways?'

'Lemon, pack it in!' Tangerine shut him down instantly.

'What? I'm just curious!'

'It was in the fuckin' brief that I sent you two days ago.' Tangerine hesitated to answer your question like he wasn't sure if he should be telling you this but after a mere second's forethought, he caved. 'Your friend, our employer, knew you liked that coffee shop. He just didn't know when you'd visit. All we had to do was wait.'

He could tell you either didn't believe him or didn't want to.

'Listen, I know you're scared and you have no reason to trust us or really anyone right now but I give you my word that we will do everything we can to keep you safe, yeah? It's what we're being paid for.'

 He held his hand out, offering to take your duffle bag and stuff it in the trunk of their car. You'd barely registered that you'd crossed the cracked concrete car park until he popped the trunk. Your mind felt hazy and dreamlike.

'Exactly. If you don't trust us. Trust that we do our jobs and it's our job to look after you.' Lemon reaffirmed but his words fell on deaf ears.

Instead, you looked up at Tangerine, at the way he looked at you like he desperately wanted to gain your trust, for you to believe that he could keep you safe. He needed that more for him than anything else. He needed to know he could do something other than killing, even if he had to snap a few necks along the way.

He felt for you, unable to imagine how powerless you must feel right now with your world crumbling beneath your feet, letting you fall into the mud. He'd been wading through the mud for a while, Lemon too. The very least he could do was offer you a hand.

So you gave him your bag and he took it with a smile, like you did him a favour.

  Across the other side of the car park, a man dozing in the driver's seat of a car with suspiciously darkened windows just so happened to wake up. He looked on as you, Lemon and Tangerine made towards their car. He hadn't even been awake to see you go inside the building in the first place. Although you'd changed your hair from the photo he'd been given, that was definitely you walking out of your apartment building unharmed.

You were supposed to just be some civilian. You weren't even supposed to be in your apartment right now, hence why he'd fallen asleep as his partner went inside to set up shop and wait for you.

They'd barely treated the order for your death as a job, more like a holiday with some first-degree murder sprinkled in.

Yet there you were alive and well and that meant his partner was dead.

  Tagging: @icy-spicy​ @simpingforclaudette @cockete @padfoot-1959 @revenstaz @family-video @multifandomfanfic @robertdowneyhiddlesbatch @ashyyslashy @ifilwtmfc​ (please feel free to let me know if you’d like to be added to the Tangerine tag list <3)

[cambria-writes]

happy holidays! this is arguably a little late but i’ve had a rough go of it these past few days so i only just finished this tonight lol. Ii insist that i’m not late because we’re still in 2022 and the new year hasn’t hit yet!

anyways this is just a relatively short fluffy feel-good thing because i wanted to feel warm and fuzzy. so it’s absolutely self-indulgent.

word count: 3,229 warnings: swearing, it’s christmas eve and that’s important so that should probably be a warning, no y/n, no mention of gender but ravenloft reader is AFAB, minor ravenloft spoilers if you squint

for reference, this scene (with a bonus crown) is what the reader would’ve drawn.

and for the record, since it was mentioned on ao3, i'm very well aware it shouldn't have been a perception check! ravenloft!reader was never written with the intention of making them a tabletop rpg wiz, they just know enough to get by and follow along if they're sitting in on a game.

𝕽𝖔𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖊𝖕𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

When the phone rang, you didn’t even greet the speaker. You immediately answered with ‘what do you want you fucking menace’ because there’s really only one person who’d call you near midnight like a heathen. 

“What’s your favourite colour?”

You snort and wedge the phone between your chin and shoulder and sit back down at your dining table to keep sketching. 

“Dunno. Like, all of them?”

“Dude that’s the epitome of unhelpful,” Eddie deadpans, and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Right, well like, is there any context to this? Cause you should know I don’t have a favourite colour,” you reply, frowning and erasing a small portion before swiping the eraser shredding away. 

“Come on,” Eddie whines, and you can practically see him throwing his head back in annoyance. “Not even one? Like, something that just always makes you happy when you see it?”

You hum for a second and put your pencil down. “I guess maybe black? I—“

“Nah, nuh uh. Boring as hell.”

“Rude, what—“

“Black’s not even a colour, that’s what you constantly say!”

You scoff and pick your pencil back up, switching the phone to the other shoulder. 

“Did you seriously just call me in the middle of the night to bitch at me for not having a preferred perceptible wavelength of light?”

There’s an unusually long silence on the other end of the line. You frown again and pull the handset away and follow the coiled line. Confused but satisfied that it hadn’t somehow gotten unplugged from the cradle on the wall, you wedge it back where it was. 

“Ed? You good?”

“Yeah, no. Yeah, sorry, just thinking.”

“Jesus, don’t burn yourself out there bud.”

“Oh fuck off.”

The rest of the phone call is relatively short, and colours aren’t mentioned again by the time you hang up. You don’t go to bed until nearly two in the morning, and by then you’re content with having gotten down the main lines of your portrait. 

The snowstorm that rolled in on the 23rd was entirely unexpected but wholly welcomed. You were scheduled to work on the 24th, but with the state of the roads and the fact that nearly half of Hawkins was running off of generators, you were graciously allowed to stay home until the new year. And given that this is your first Christmas in your new home, you were more than happy to hunker down and, ha, weather it out. 

You’d had plans, sure; Harrington had already made sure everyone knew to show up at his place on the 24th, your parents had been expecting you on Christmas morning and the rest of the day would have been spent going around to see extended family. And though the thought of not being able to fulfill your annual Christmas traditions did dampen your mood, just thinking about the astronomical amount of energy you’d save made it a bit more palatable. 

If the same thing were to happen next year, though, you might cry. 

You’d already called Steve to let him know you were staying home. Pleasantly surprised, he’d admitted he’d had a whole speech prepared about how he’s have The Swarm tear you a new one if you even dared thinking about touching your car keys. (Which would have been an effective threat, honestly. You really had no interest in giving Dustin a reason to get uppity at you, and you definitely didn’t want to have to deal with Max’s ire. Girl held grudges like you did trauma.)

Your parents were only slightly less understanding, with your mother trying to insist that your father could come pick you up. A little resistance put that all to rest, though, and with a promise to call on Christmas morning, that was dealt with as well. 

You’d just settled down on your couch, swaddled in the fluffy blanket you’d gotten from Eddie the year before, mug of hot chocolate held in both hands for warmth, when the doorbell rang. Confused, you look at the time—just after dinner on Christmas Eve—and sigh before heaving yourself off the couch to buzzer by the door. You hesitate for a second before pressing the button to let the mysterious visitor in. You’re already on your way back to your couch, having assumed it was just a neighbour who’d locked themselves out again, when you hear heavy footsteps outside your door. 

You quietly walk back up and carefully lean forward to look through the peephole. 

“What the…” you mutter, leaning back, nearly jumping out of your skin when the knocking finally comes. You quickly unlatch the chain and unlock the deadbolt before pulling the door open. “Ed, what the fuck—“

“Merry Christmas,” Eddie blurts out, thrusting a box out at you, though it really sounded more like ‘murr cr’sms’. 

“Merry Christmas to you too but Jesus come inside!” You pull Eddie through the door by his arm, quickly shutting the door behind you and getting started patting the snow off of him. “The hell did you do, walk here? You look like a damn yeti!”

“Y-yeah I kind-kind of d-did.”

You pause in your patting before grabbing Eddie’s arm again and turning him around to face you. You ‘reabout to ask if he was serious, but a quick glance at his face—reddened cheeks and nose, frosted lashes, dry lips—tells you he has, in fact, told you the truth. 

“Fuck me, okay,” you whisper, before shaking your head and getting a move on. “Stay there and take your boots and coat off and then get your ass on that couch, I’m making you coffee.”

You don’t hear any complaints. And though normally you would’ve been glad for the silence, even perhaps proud to have shut him up, Eddie’s silence is, once again, unsettling. And this time you’re pretty sure it’s not because he’s thinking, and most likely because he’s borderline hypothermic.

You try to be quick; you grab that one pair of sweatpants Eddie leant you when you got splashed by a car outside of the arcade. That one metallica shirt you borrowed one time when one Friday movie night turned into an impromptu sleepover. You make your way back to the living room, where thankfully Eddie’s listened to you, and has made himself at home swaddled in the blanket you’d left on the couch. You throw a quick glance to the front door, where his jacket and boots are slowly leaving a growing puddle of snow water.

You definitely need to get a welcome mat or something if this is going to keep happening. 

Your first instinct is to chuck the clothes at Eddie’s head. What you would usually do. But it’s Christmas eve, there’s a god damn storm outside and this maniac walked to your place. For some reason. You feel like you owe him to be nicer than you usually would be. Call it the ghost of Christmas conscience. 

“Here,” you say quietly, holding out the sloppily folded shirt and sweats. “You can change in here. I’ll be in the kitchen.” 

Eddie mutters a very stuttery thanks and takes the clothes from you. You pause for a second to see what’s on the TV—seems like A Christmas Story is about halfway through—before hastily turning away when you see Ed starting to lift his shirt over his head.

Coffee, right. You said you’d make coffee.

You’re being so normal about this, it’s absolutely fine. You’re totally fine. 

By the time you return to the couch in the living room, Eddie’s clothes are exceptionally neatly folded on your coffee table and he’s even more huddled up in your blanket than he had been before. You place his mug of coffee in his waiting hands and have to bite back shocked laughter when, even outstretched, underneath the blanket, he looks like a frozen T-rex.

“Alright,” you huff out when you finally take your seat on the other end of the couch. “You wanna tell me what’s in that box that was so important that you felt you had to walk here in a storm?”

Eddie sputters in his coffee a bit. When he brings the mug back down, he does look a little sheepish.

“Yeah, y’know it sounds pretty stupid when you say it like that.”

You nod and take a sip of your own coffee. “M’hm. That’s cause risking hypothermia to deliver a gift that very well could’ve waited until the storm passed is pretty stupid. No offense.”

Despite your disclaimer and your attempt to sound light about it, Eddie lapses into silence, again. 

“Okay, you keep going quiet, is there something—“

“I didn’t want you to be alone.”

You stop yourself, mouth agape. You bring your coffee mug back up to your lips to try and shake off the surprise.

“I—okay. What, uh, what about Wayne?”

Eddie gestures vaguely under the blanket, and you assume he’s waving the issue of. “He’s with the Hendersons.”

“Oh. That’s…”

“Dustin asked me to go. I said no.”

You frown. “In favour of walking though the snow to get to me?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie starts, but he doesn’t continue until he takes another long sip from the coffee mug. “Walking wasn’t the plan. Van broke down halfway here.”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh, leaning back into the arm of the couch and pulling your legs up and under you. “I literally thought you walked from your place!” 

“God, never,” Eddie laughs, pulling his own feet up on the couch to sit cross-legged. “But I was halfway here and there’s no power at the trailer, so.”

You hum and nod, but otherwise keep your silence. And you both stay like that for a few minutes. And while you’re taking the time to try and bring your BPM down to something a nurse might not scream about, Eddie seems to be appreciating the warmth that you’ve thrown at him.

“So,” you say after a while, clearing your throat and putting your mostly empty mug on the coffee table. “What’s in the box?” 

Eddie grins and puts his own mug down. The blanket falls away from his shoulders when he reaches toward to grab said box, and he turns it around in his hands before passing it over to you.

“Wait,” you rush to say, just as he opens his mouth. “Shit, wait, I have,” you trail off, and nearly jump over the back of the couch to run to your room. You quickly snatch the gift bag you’d left on your dresser and run back to the living room, nearly tripping over your own feet. You throw yourself back down onto the couch and shove the bag towards Eddie.

“What—“

“Gift for a gift,” you explain shortly, a little out of breath.

Eddie laughs lightly but takes the gift bag from you, and you eagerly snatch the box from his hands. You’re about to start tearing into the tacky Santa-print wrapping paper, but glance up to make sure it’s okay. Eddie chuckles and nods and motions for you to go ahead. 

You make quick work of the paper and nearly tear the top off the box before turning it over in your hand and letting its content drop into your palm.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, turning over the giant cut glass piece in your hand. You hold it up to the do lamplight, and it looks like it’s shimmering from the inside. Every which way you turn it, it’s like each facet is a different colour that reveals itself to you with each new angle. 

You don’t miss the fact that there are nineteen carefully carved and painted numbers on each face, and the last one has a little flame where the 20 normally would have been. 

You look up to thank Eddie, throat a little tight, but you nearly choke on your own tongue when you see his expression. 

He’s holding your gifted frame in his hands like it might break if he holds it too tightly. You can’t really understand the expression on his face, and the more time he spends staring unblinkingly at it, the more unsure you feel. 

“I, uh, is it… do you not like it?” 

Eddie slowly shakes his head before lifting his eyes up to you. He tries to start a few different sentences before clearing his throat. 

“Is this—this is really what you see?”

You let your hands fall into your lap and nervously turn the massive D20 around in them and nod. 

“Yeah, I mean. The crown might be a bit much,” you chuckle lightly, looking up and away towards the TV. “But yeah. You look really, uh. You look happy, when you’re DMing for the kids. Really cool. Thought you should be able to, I dunno. See it for yourself.”

When you do muster the courage to turn to look back to Eddie, he still has that absolutely confusing look on your face. You lift the heavy dice in one hand and wave it around a bit. 

“This is why you asked for my favourite colour, huh?” 

Eddie blinks a bit owlishly at first, but laughs and shakes his head. Slowly, carefully, he puts your gifted portrait on top of his folded clothes. Leans forward to pluck the dice from your hand and gently put it down on the coffee table next to your mug. 

“Ed, what’s wr—“

You inhale the rest of your question when Eddie reaches out a hand to grab and pull at one of your ankles. You screw your eyes shut when your head meets the couch cushion below your with a soft ‘thump’. And when you open your eyes, Eddie’s hovering over you, hands braced on the couch arm just above your head. You swallow thickly and promptly forget to breathe for a second. 

The end credit music for A Christmas Story feels like it’s playing from miles away.

“You good?” Eddie asks, quietly, and all you can do is nod. “You sure?”

“Yeah, uh huh. Fine,” you whisper, holding your hands close to your chest. Close your eyes when he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. “Why did you really come over?” You whisper, hesitantly uncurling a hand to place it on his chest.

“Missed you.”

“You see me almost every day.”

“Worried about you.”

You snort and lightly slap at his chest. “Bullshit. I own more knives than you do guitar picks.” 

Eddie exhales sharply before pulling back a bit. When you open your eyes, you almost want to hide from the tenderness you see in his. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whisper, turning your head to the side to watch the TV turns from black to blue, now that the tape’s over. 

“Like what?” Eddie asks, and you can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice when he nuzzles at your neck. 

You grunt. “Like, I don’t know. Like you—like…”

“Like you’re the only person I’d drive and walk through a snow storm to see?” 

You hum but keep your head resolutely turned away. Shiver when you can feel his lips ghosting against your cheek. 

“Like you’re in love with me,” you mutter quietly, screwing your eyes shut. 

Eddie slowly peels a hand away from the arm of the couch to turn your head to look at him. You still avert your eyes. He brushes the hair away from your face instead.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he says, almost whines, tilting his head to try to catch your eyes. “You’re smarter than me, you’re not that dumb.”

You huff and cross your arms and finally look up at Eddie. There was some kind of combative quip on the tip of your tongue but it dies there as soon as the look on his face properly registers. 

“You’re not fucking around,” you say frowning. 

“I’m not fucking around.” Eddie sighs and moves up to kneel on the couch, both knees boxing in your legs. You move up on your elbows and scoot up a bit to lean your back against the arm of the couch. 

“Since when do you—“ 

“Dude, you literally saved me from a swarm of hell bats, somehow managed to team up with a super powered teenage girl to save the world, still don’t think I’m an absolute coward and show up at my doorstep if I call you when I can’t sleep,” Eddie lists off, starting to wave down at your a bit frantically. “And you actually listen to my shitty garage band music!”

“It’s not shitty!” 

“You’re proving my damn point, woman!” Ed shouts, swatting your hand away when you go to slap his chest again. “Merry fucking Christmas, I’m in love with you!” 

You let yourself slide back down to lie on the couch and laugh when you throw an arm over your face. 

“The fuck, this isn’t funny!” Eddie whines, trying to slap your arms away from your face. “This is serious!”

You choke your laughter down enough to say, “Roll for perception.” 

“Excuse me?” Eddie squawks, indignantly, pausing his assault on your arms. You lower them just enough to be able to peek at him. 

“You heard me, roll for perception.”

Eddie scoffs but turns to grab the massive dichroic dice from the table and gently rolls it along your carpeted floor. 

“Huh. 18. Do I get to add my wisdom modifier to that?” 

Though you bring your arms down from your face, you still cover it with your hands.

“You’re the only name and phone number I keep in my address book,” you start quietly, biting down on your lips before continuing. “That portrait of you isn’t the first one I’ve ever bothered trying to do. The photo of us Max took in the hospital is the only one I have framed. I hate cashews.”

“But you keep a tin of cashews in the cupboard on top of the f… fridge…” 

You nod and part your fingers to catch a glimpse of Eddie. He sighs before shouting and shaking his head. 

“Ed, what the—“

“Why are we so stupid complicated!” He shouts again, but it peters out into laughter. “Jesus, why can’t we just say shit like normal people?” 

“We hate normal people,” you deadpan, slowly letting your hands slide down your face. “So, uh,” you start, curling your fingers under your chin. “Merry, uh, Merry fucking Christmas, I lo—I love you too?”

Eddie closes his eyes and tilts his head back to sigh like you’ve just given him a glass of water after spending weeks in the desert.

You move to half sit up on your elbows again. 

“Hey, you—“

“Does this mean I can kiss you now and you’re not going to think I’m just doing it because it’s the holidays and there was mistletoe over your door?”

You blink for a second and pull yourself up on the arm of the couch and twist around to look at your door. Huh. Sure as shit, there it is.

“Oh. Mrs H must’ve put that up when she came over,” you say nervously, but when you turn around you’re shocked, both because of the still-freezing hand that comes up to your jaw and the lips that are pressed almost chastely against yours. 

“God bless Mrs H,” Eddie whispers, and your laughter is a quick huff before you loop your arms around his neck to pull him down against you for another kiss.