#they clash a little over who's his favourite sometimes (the answer is all of them or emmanalian if they're being annoying) but they're bros

[charlottedabookworm]

#31 - Extra Day! (Vestige)

so i was not expecting there to be a day 31 which is why this was written half on a train and half in a hotel room because i’m on holiday rn. anyway, when i heard about the extra prompt i had ideas that were far more angsty than this (aka the set meeting g’raha again scene) but my brain didn’t want to play ball with that and instead gave me this. this is less angsty but it still hurts from both povs because g’raha is hurting and set is also hurting and vestige is all set is seeing when he looks at him and hey it’s hurting both of them

this’ll be up on ao3 in a hot minute

He finds the Warrior of Light at the very edges of Silvertear lake, tucked away in a little hidden cove that is invisible from above as he stares out at the crystalised corpse of Migardsormr. The auri looks pensive, his eyes glowing fiercely in the bright light of the setting sun, and for a moment, he reconsiders. Is now truly the right time?

(Will he get another chance?)

Before he can talk himself out of this conversation yet again, G’raha drops to the sand on near-silent toes.

The Warrior tenses at his very presence.

G’raha frowns past the flash of hurt and steps over a rigid tail so that he can collapse at the waters edge beside the auri. His knees curl instinctively into his chest and he fixes his gaze out upon the water. “Have I done something to offend?” He asks, voice quiet as he tries not to let the vulnerability - the hurt - at the abject dismissal shine through. T’would not be the first time he had accidentally offended someone and he knows that his introduction to the Warrior had not put his best foot forwards but he had been so excited…

In the corner of his eye, he sees Set tense further still until he appears to be writ from stone.

He looks away; his question answered. “My apologies,” he rasps out lowly, already cursing himself. Still, this is the find of a lifetime and he cannot let his mistakes cost him his position on the dig. “I should not have been so childish-”

“No!”

This time, tis Raha who flinches, his head flying around to stare at the Warrior as his tail flares up in alarm behind him.

A vestige of something dark, something horribly broken, flickers across the man’s face before he closes his eyes. “No,” he repeats more quietly, an embarrassed flush plain upon his face. “You have not offended me.”

“There is no need to lie, Warrior,” G’raha laughs and it tastes bitter upon his tongue. “Rammbroes has made it quite clear that my actions were in poor taste; I should have simply introduced myself to you rather than forcing a challenge when you were simply completing your tasks.” Rammbroes had also made it quite clear that a part of the lecture was due to the complaints of the Warrior himself.

Yet, even as he watches, Set’s trail bristles in obvious offence. If the auri had fur instead of scales, he has no doubt it would be stood on its end. “I said nothing to Rammbroes,” he says after seemingly reading his mind, and his words are low and intense and angry. “I would have appreciated an introduction, aye, but your challenge… It hurt nothing and - please, do not tell my siblings this but I enjoyed it.” He glances away, his flush still high on his cheeks, and there is a shy smile twitching at his lips.

“You did?”

The smile blooms further. “T’was fun,” is all the auri says.

G’raha has to fight the urge to stare at him. “Then why-” he cuts himself off, forcing his gaze back to the water.

“Why..?” The question is gently probing in the same tone that he has heard directed at the Warrior’s siblings.

He swallows. “Sometimes- I feel, at times, as if we are friends and yet, at others… You seem to go out of your way to avoid me and, when you cannot, it is as if you see right past me. As if I am not even here and-”

A flinch.

A dark look flickers across Set’s face, full of something that G’raha cannot read in the second it is there before it is gone again, yet whatever it is has the Warrior looking at him.

Through him.

And then, away from him.

G’raha- perhaps he has assumed too much in regards to the possible friendship that exists between them. He unwinds his arms from his legs, his ears pressed flat against his skull in a movement he cannot prevent, and moves to stand.

“I apologise,” the Warrior, Set, says. 

He freezes in place as the auri turns to him and sees him.

“You- I-,” he stutters and his eyes are dark. “There is someone that I love very much and you- you very much remind me of him and it…”

Hurts.

The unspoken word echoes between them. He swallows, carefully considering, before lowering himself back to the sand.

“You must love him very much,” G’raha says softly, tentatively, and this time he is able to recognise the grief that lines the Warrior’s face. It leaves an earthy, bitter taste at the back of his nose.

“I do.” 

The words are so fierce, so loving, so devoted. No wonder he has been avoiding him if he is reminded of someone he loved so fiercely - someone he lost - by his presence. ”Will you tell me of him?” He finds himself asking, a little curious.

What was it between them that was so similar?

Set bites his lip and his eyes are still dark with grief and guilt (but Raha cannot blame him for grieving) and for a long moment, the silence stretches between them.

He opens his mouth to apologise again...

“...he accidentally pranked the twins once, after Alphi made one too many pointed comments and Ali just happened to get in the way and t’was like I blinked and the walls were purple and my hair was green…”

[rek1s-headband]

hi could i request something? basically just HCS about langa and reki when you guy get into a fight or sum idk LMFAOO, you dont have to do this if you dont want to tho <3

➯ A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy. I added a few characters, hope you don’t mind:)

➯ When you guys get into a fight

➯ Characters: Langa Hasegawa, Reki Kyan, Kaoru Sakurashiki, Kojiro Nanjou, Hiromi Higa and Miya Chinen x gn reader

➯ Warnings: angst if you squint, fluff

Langa:

Ok the majority of your fights are generally because of a miscommunication. If things aren’t spelled out for the poor boy, he’ll be completely oblivious to what’s bothering you

When you finally snap, he always seems shocked, asking why you hadn’t said anything sooner, even if you’d been trying to hint at it all week

Not really one to shout, but if things get heated enough he might snap. He always feels awful afterwards though. No matter what, he really believes no one should be screamed at because of something as silly as a disagreement

Rarely storms out, he’s always going to try and stay until the end to try and get something, anything out of you that he can use to try and understand your point of view

Understands space. He knows when you dont feel like talking to him, and he will give you that time to collect your thoughts. When you’re ready to speak again, he’s all ears

Gets overwhelmed really easy. It doesnt really show in what he says, but when you raise your voice his brain goes to putty and he can feel his breath get narrow. He’s not scared, he just doesn’t want to be the reason you’re feeling like this.

Never lets you go to bed angry. He’ll give you your space, but if you’re still quiet by bedtime he’s making sure you’ve eaten and you’re not still really upset by whatever played out that day

Overthinks a lot. How long did he not realise you were upset? What if its actually a much bigger deal than you’re letting on? What if you leave? Of course, he knows a lot of it is completely irrational, but it still lingers in the back of his mind, so you can imagine how relieved he is when the fight is over and you’re back in his arms

Asks people for advice a lot. Reki and Cherry are usual helpers, giving Langa their opinions on the matter without going into too much detail. The rest is up to him.

Gives the best hugs and comfort after a fight. He understands couples can fight, and never really takes the aggression let out by the pair of you too seriously. Rubbing the back of your head and holding you close to his chest, he’ll reassure you that he’s not going anywhere, that he’s not going to leave “just because of a silly fight” while you fight back tears on his shoulder.

Reki

Unlike Langa, Reki is a very open person in terms of his feelings, so your fights are rarely because of closed away emotions. However, many are caused by you feeling he is spending too much time in his workshop, overworking himself and not spending as much time with you as he should.

As for Reki, he gets mad when he feels you’re being closed off from him, not telling him things and hiding your true emotions. It’s not that he doesnt trust you, he just doesnt want you shouldering anything by yourself, and tries to make things easier for you by halving the problem.

A very emotional person, and this really shows when the two of you argue. There’s a lot of tears, a lot of raised voices, yknow those exhausted laughs when you’re tired of arguing with someone? Those. He pulls at his hair a lot in frustration too

Both of you need to walk away from each other a lot during arguments. You’re both driven by your emotions, so its hard to think logically once you’ve both gotten really upset.

The type to sit outside a door after an argument if you’ve locked yourself in a room, pressing against it and quietly talking to you, regardless of whether or not he gets a response

Understands space, to a certain extent. He’ll try and talk to you after an argument, try anything to get you to just answer him, to come out from your room, to stop ignoring him. He knows when you really don’t want to face him though, which is when he’ll go out for a while, either to Langa’s for advice, or just for a quiet skate.

Despite how upset he gets in the moment, he gets over it quickly. Once he’s out of his head and seeing properly, he’ll take some time to think it over and see things from your point of view. He’ll come back to you with an apology, and when you’re ready to talk, he’ll discuss things with you this time around instead of fighting

If the fight lasts overnight, he refuses to let you take the couch. If he feels a fight will last, he’ll glue himself to the couch, making it impossible for you to sleep anywhere other than your bed. No matter what the fight was about, he refuses to have you sleep uncomfortably.

Tends to cry after making up. It’s rarely out of sadness, of course, more relief than anything. He’s just happy to have you back in his arms, no longer ignoring him.

Cherry

A very rational person, fights are very rare between the pair of you. When you do fight, it tends to be because you feel he’s being closed off from you, not being as open and emotional with you. As for him, he doesnt like when you act too aloof about things that are actually serious to him

Fights start out quiet, talking in normal tones and using your heads. However, as the fight goes on, your voices gradually get higher and louder, arms thrown in the air as you get in each other’s faces.

He snaps quite a bit. Petty remarks, snappy replies and other unnecessary comments are thrown out without much thought as he gets more pissed off. Not necessarily because he doesn’t have anything to defend himself, but because once he’s started, he’ll do just about anything to piss you off

Depending on the fight, it could last an hour or a week. Both of you are so petty that you’ll refuse to apologise to the other, forgetting who was even in the wrong in the first place

Honestly, whoever goes to sleep first gets the bed, he’s not as considerate as Reki. However, as the fight goes on, the pair of you will stay up for ungodly hours into the night, trying to outlast the other because they dont want them sleeping on the couch. You’ll never admit that though, which is why you wont just fall asleep on the couch first. Besides, if you happen to fall asleep on the couch before Kaoru goes to bed, he’ll carry you upstairs and sleep on the couch himself. He’ll never admit that though, he’ll simply say you woke up and went upstairs in a hazy half-sleep, which is why you dont remember.

He’s definitely programmed Carla to apologise to you for him at least once, rolling her into the room you’re in before quickly walking out to the sound of “Y/N, I-am-very-sorry-and-I-was-wrong-please-forgive-me” in Carlas robotic voice

If you ever go to Joe’s restaurant to cool down, he’ll make a big fuss, swaying and sighing, dramatically shouting about “however will these lovers reconcile!?” Once his act is over though, he’ll comfort you and give you your favourite meal, tutting over the pair of you and thinking of ways to help you make up

Literally won’t let you go of you for at least a week after you fight. This mf is hanging off you, constant forehead kisses, the whole deal. He’s gone without your affection for a long time while you fought, he’s simply making up for lost time

Joe

You get really pissed at him when he flirts with other girls. He doesn’t mean to, he’s just a bit of a girl magnet and it’s his nature to entertain them. Of course, he all yours, but he forgets sometimes that jealousy is actually a thing

Doesnt take arguments as seriously as he probably should. He’s the type to tell you to “calm down” in the worst possible moment, its usually what makes you explode, actually.

Absolutely dense. The type to listen to you shout for five minutes, and only then have the audacity to ask you just what your problem was

It’s not his fault, bless him. He’s just a little unobservant when it comes to your emotions. When he realises you’re actually upset though, he’s apologising profusely and promising to never do it again

His apologies are always so genuine, you generally forgive him. However, if he does something that really pisses you off and you dont forgive him, he’ll give you space to think

Fights are usually resolved within a day. Like Langa, he refuses to let you go to bed angry

Cooks for you every meal regardless of whether or not you eat it. He’ll leave meals outside your door as a sort of truce, quietly pressing against the door and asking you to please come eat with him, that he hates the idea of you holed up in there all alone

Like Kaoru, he tends to reply with snarky remarks that have little to do with the argument, but they have a little less bite to them. More petty, if anything

Another big reason for why fights never last long is because this man literally. Will. Not. Survive. Without. You. You’ll be trying to ignore him while he comes in every five minutes, asking you how to get a certain channel on the TV, or stupid things you know he’s only asking because he misses talking to you

After you make up, he literally wont even look at another girl for at least a week. Mf will literally turn his head the other way if a girl comes near him, shouting about how he’s spoken for

Shadow

The biggest hothead. He says a lot of things he doesn’t mean in the moment, which will cause you to storm out and he’ll immediately regret it

The fight almost immediately escalates past hushed voices, swear words thrown around as you get in each other’s faces

He’ll get really upset, but he’ll mask it with being pissed off and angry, clashing pots around and acting like a literal baby. He doesnt want to admit it, but he always feels awful right after a fight. He knows youll need a bit of space after the intense shouting, so he���ll give you that space before even attempting an apology

Aggressively cares for you. Like he’ll say things like “I made food, it’ll taste like shit if you leave it, so I suggest you have it now” or “nope, I want the couch, I’m gonna watch something” he’ll never admit it, he just wants to make sure you’re alright even while fighting

If the two of you go to S while fighting, it’ll be very obvious. Usually you’re attached at the hip, but now you couldn’t be further apart. However, he’s still looking out for you, keeping an eye on you to make sure you’re alright. If you’re ever getting hit on by some creep, the fight is forgotten and he’s back at your side, daring the stranger to come any closer to you.

Reki is always the first to notice, poking him and pushing you over to him, trying to get the two of you to make up. Surprisingly, it actually does help clear the air

He can never stay mad at you for long though, he’s completely soft for you

Makes you bouquets to try and apologise. He’s taught you a lot about the meanings of flowers, so he’ll specifically pick ones with hidden meanings like “I’m sorry” or “I love you”

Not very good with verbal apologies. He knows when they’re needed though, and they are usually delivered through a series of grumbles and sad expressions. The thought is there though

Gives very gentle, long hugs after you make up. He’ll hold you close, suggesting a date or a movie to help the two of you relax

Miya

Literally the biggest bitch out of the six to fight with. He’s so petty, he will refuse to admit he’s wrong for the longest time. Once he’s in, there’s no accepting he’s not right

At least for a while anyway. He’ll start to feel bad once he sees just how upset you’re getting, frustrated with his inability to see anyone’s point of view but his own

King of the silent treatment. He’ll hide away behind his switch, drowning out his guilty thoughts with the white noise of animal crossing

He’ll skate to take his mind off things, practicing new tricks until he’s exhausted

Makes really snide remarks that have absolutely nothing to do with the argument. The type to bring up shit that happened 4 months ago just to help his case

Reki is usually the one to make him see sense, telling him just how petty he’s being, and that he cant get so defensive when he’s in the wrong. He knows this, obviously, he just can’t help it sometimes.

Although he’s not one for real apologies, he’ll slowly begin to stop ignoring you, bringing you small snacks or sending you funny things he saw on his phone. He’ll sit beside you, acting as if it was completely unintentional, but will slowly inch closer and closer until he’s curled up at your side, mumbling about how he wasn’t completely right after all

Will literally hit anyone who tries to comment on how the pair of you have made up, talking about how “its not even that big of a deal, just shut up”

Ad*m

Yall fought cause y’know. He’s ad*m

Sat outside your house with a speaker and an ugly ass sign. It started raining and his sign got ruined and his makeup ran

You broke up with him and he cried

Slipped in the rain while leaving <3

[reidyoulikeabook]

A is for Ankle Socks

Summary: The first installment in my A-Z of Spencer Reid series. Spencer Reid is very particular about his socks.

Ship: fem ! BAU reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussions of case-typical violence, blood, brief description of a fight, minor injury to reader that requires some stitches.

A/N: hello! this is my first ever series and i’m very nervous about it! it’s going to be a chronological a-z series with Spencer, detailing the progression of your relationship!

Spencer Reid permanently wears odd socks. The only time you can recall him wearing matching ones, in the year you’ve known him, was on days he had to go to court. Then, it was required that he wear the technically mandated uniform of proper leather shoes, and monochrome socks. On those days, Hotch would turn up with a pair of black socks tucked into his briefcase, just in case. Spencer had needed them, twice.

However, today is not a court day. Today is day 8 of a case in back of beyond Oregon that, quite frustratingly, seems to be going absolutely nowhere.

It says quite a lot, really, that in a day spent combing over convicts with domestic violence charges, the sight you look up to see is more viscerally disturbing. Spencer’s perched on the end of a desk, as he so often seems to be, his ankles crossed over each other. Signature black converse on his feet. And he appears...not to be wearing socks?

He notices you looking at him, and flicks his eyes downward self-consciously, “Is something wrong?”

“Are you wearing socks?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Uh. No. I meant to go to the laundrette last night but then Hotch called us into that meeting. I wasn’t expecting to be out here this long.”

“Is it comfortable?” You ask, “Wearing those without socks?”

He kicks his feet around just slightly, “Not really. I guess I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned.”

“Sorry,” You say, with an apologetic smile.

“Not your fault,” He says, looking back at the paperwork in his lap, “Hey would you mind coming to take a look at this actually? I think I might have something.”

***

By day 2, you’d learnt that the only sandwich shop in town had a reputation for bad food hygiene that none of you felt like risking. Normally, everyone would roll their eyes at Spencer for his investigation into such things. However, in this case, everyone else seemed to be as thankful as you always were.

It’s your turn to do the lunch run today, so you head to the grocery store that isn’t too far out of town. Putting your car in park, you mentally run through the list that the team had given you: cheap pasta for everyone but Rossi, who was willing to risk running foul of their microwave meal selection, as many coffee supplies as you could manage, some sour gummy worms for Spencer, mineral water for Hotch, and tights for you. It was frankly quite impractical to wear the things. You ran through so many brambles, fell down so many times, that you almost felt you should get pantyhose hazard pay. In fall in Oregon though? You’d splash out the $6 for the sake of preventing frostbite. If only because Hotch would be furious.

You smile at the thought. Wandering through the aisles, you collect everything you need. Spencer only asked for a pack of sour gummy worms, but, with a smile on your face, you decide to get him the strawberry laces he likes too.

It’s only when you scan the cart, last minute, that you realise what you’ve forgotten.

Tights. Shit.

Wheeling the cart around, you weave through the aisles looking for them. The underwear aisle is aisle 20, and it looks like it’s been ransacked. Flicking through the disorganised display, you see them.

A five pack of socks, adorned with farm animals and backgrounds of a completely clashing colour. It’s almost too bright for you, but you know a certain sockless Spencer who will be sure to appreciate them. Out of curiousity, you navigate your way over to the men’s section and have a look through. Mostly, it’s all black and navy. Right at the back though, you spy a similarly garish looking pack, this time with vegetables on.

You put them in the basket, eyes flickering over a pair of matching aubergine patterned boxers, as you make your way over to the tights. You select your usual kind, turning your attention back to the boxers.

Is it weird to get him boxers?

He’d know it was a joke, right?

Is it weird to get him socks?

Well he didn’t have any

Yeah but you don’t need to get him two packs

Yes I do we might be here a while

10 more days?

He could fall. He could spill coffee on his shoes. He could get shot.

How would socks help with him getting shot?

Your internal monologue gives you a moments reprieve, and then.

Kinda weird you got him socks

Nobody else would have got him socks

Yeah well I’m just thoughtful.

The last thought crosses your mind without permission, and you almost bristle at the brazenness of your lie to yourself. However, you decide, examining the real reasons you’re so eager to provide comfort to your favourite co-worker would require mental stamina you didn’t have right now. Mental stamina that would be better put to use on the case at hand. Mental stamina that definitely wasn’t being used to employ the BAU’s favourite defense mechanism: denial.

***

“I got you a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Spencer spins around in his chair to face you.

“Yep,” You say, plopping the sweets down onto the desk in front of him and grinning.

“Strawberry laces!” He says, smile lighting up his face, “Thanks ____!”

“That’s not the surprise.”

He quirks his brow, confusion tugging at his features, “Then what’s the surprise?”

You untuck your arms from behind your back, handing him the pairs of socks.

He looks down at them. He’s silent for a moment, and your heart thuds.

Fuck.

Told you it was weird.

It’s definitely weird.

He definitely thinks you’re-

You don’t have time to finish that thought, however, because Spencer scoots his chair back. Standing up, he pulls you into a hug. He gently squeezes you, and when he speaks his voice is low, cracking a little.

“Thank you,” He says quietly, “That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

You lean into him, allowing yourself to be enveloped, “No problem. I know you have some issues with sensory things sometimes and I just thought, you know,” you trail off, “Anyway, I didn’t know which ones you’d prefer and I know you like to mix and match anyway so I just got both.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he squeezes you again, tighter this time, before releasing you. Strangely, he won’t meet your eye as he does.

“I’m gonna go put them on, okay?”

“Okay,” You say, watching a little quizically as he hurriedly heads out of the room.

Derek happens to be heading back to the room, bumping into Spencer on his way out.

“You alright kid?” He asks.

“I'm fine," Spencer says, waving him off. He tries to avoid meeting Derek’s eyes, knowing as well as he does that if the profiler catches the look on his face he’ll be found out.

Derek allows him to shrug past him with a confused glance over his shoulder. He walks into the room, scooping the nearest file off the desk and asking in your general direction, “You know what’s up with him?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the p.

You don’t. And it’d bother you, except you genuinely don’t have time right now to dwell on it. Although, try as you might to focus on narrowing down this list of factories in the area, it niggles at you.

***

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re heading out to the unsubs location. You get called out by Hotch in the minute before he returns, and then it’s all guns blaring. Emily and Dave managed to work some magic with Penelope, and the place he’s holding the hostage has been narrowed down to a factory quite far out of town.

You’re perched in the back, discussing entry tactics with Hotch when your eyes travel down to Spencer’s shoes.

One chicken, and one broccoli sock sit on his left and right feet respectively. It’s hard to see them though, with how far they are down his feet.

Hotch answers his phone then, immediately barking down commands at the local PD who are apparently failing to summon adequate manpower, in Hotch’s opinion at least.

You take the moment to cautiously lean over to Spencer, whispering, “Were they not the right size?”

He smiles at you, “They fit just fine as ankle socks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check the sizes, womens ones are pretty much all one size. I completely forget that men have massively different sized feet.”

He laughs, “Are you suggesting I have huge feet?”

You feel yourself flush a little, “I don’t think that’d necessarily be an inaccurate suggestion.”

Amused, he smiles. Hotch turns around to you both, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, “I need you to call Penelope, and tell her to get us all the CCTV she can get in the area. If we’re going to have to go in without enough men to cover the perimeter we’ll need all the tactical advantages we can get.”

“Of course, sir.”

***

Lunging forward, you tackle the unsub to the ground, effectively freeing Spencer from the grasp he’d previously been held in.

“It’s over Peter,” Hotch’s voice comes, even and steady.

“No it’s not.”

Before you can even register what’s happening, you’re being tossed backwards, landing against some barbed wire. Immediately, you’re on your feet again, running after him. Not noticing how the wire has ripped a hole in your tights, and cut into your leg a little.

Grabbing his arms behind him, you use all your strength to subdue him to the floor, handcuffing him. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you breathe out a deep sigh of relief.

Derek has it from there, patting you on the shoulder and giving you a “Good job kiddo.” He leads Peter out.

You rub your chest, feeling the adrenaline start to flood out of your body with all the excitement now over. A stinging senstation in your calf gets your attention, and looking down you see the nasty wound oozing blood. It isn’t much, nothing that two stitches won’t fix.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, having gotten up from his position on the floor, “You didn’t have to...Derek would have gotten him.”

“Why should he be the only one that gets to tackle people?” You ask, letting out a breathless tinkle of a laugh.

“Statistically, he is the one who does the most tackling out of all of us. Then Hotch, then Emily, then Rossi, then me, then you.”

“I am not the one that tackles the least,” You say indignantly.

He tips his head to the side, “Are you gonna argue with the guy who has an eidetic memory or are we going to get you stitched up?”

“Both, please.”

He laughs at that, linking his arm around your waist. You limp against him a little, out to the paramedics. Mostly it’s for Spencer’s benefit. That’s what you tell yourself, you’re letting him help you so he doesn’t feel emasculated.

When has Spencer Reid ever fallen pray to toxic masculinity?

He might have

When?

Well he could

You just like how he smells

It’s true. The faint waft of his cologne is incredibly comforting. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you for even a second, helping to hoist you so you can sit on the ambulance bed while the medics attend to your leg. You’re feeling a little woozy, so Spencer sits next to you, allowing you to lean on him for support.

“Can you tell me something?” You ask, gritting your teeth, “Distract me?”

It doesn’t really hurt, getting stitched up, you’ve just never found it the most comfortable of processes. All your favourite cases have ended with you not having to get sewn up. You know that much.

“I’ve actually only tackled one more person than you in my entire BAU career,” He says, deciding to return to your former discussion, “I didn’t really go out in the field all that much until a couple years in, it was only because of Hotch that I really went out in the field to take down an unsub for the first time. That was March 12th, 2005. You’ve only been here 9 months and have done almost as much physical stuff as me. One more and we’re even.”

“Well, if you could try not to be the person getting tackled by the unsub next time. Then I might not have to make a tackle.”

His mouth turns up at the corner, “You tackled him for me?”

You feel yourself growing embarassed, “Not for you. For the socks.”

“Oh the socks?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a little unfair to go putting yourself in harms way while wearing a gift someone got for you. 5 dollar socks Spencer, practically designer at that price, I’d hate to see them ruined day one.”

He laughs, his tone playful, “Well you’ll need to bare that in mind.”

“Huh?”

He tilts his head towards Emily, strutting her way across to the ambulance with Spencer’s go-bag in her arms. She hands it to him, smiling at you.

“Should I let Morgan know the team will no longer be in need of his services?”

You snort, “I’d hate to steal his brand.”

She shakes her head, “Drinks when we get back? Hotch said the jet’s ready for whenever you’re done, and Rossi says he’s buying.”

“You got it,” You nod.

She pats you on the shoulder, exaggeratedly eyeing your leg again and rolling her eyes as she walks away, “Idiot.”

You smile, turning back towards Spencer, “Are you coming for drinks? I can drive you home.”

He visibly considers it for a moment, “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“You’re all done here,” The paramedic interrupts, wiping down your leg with an anti-bacterial wipe, “Was a really smooth tear for barbed wire, shouldn’t leave that much of a scar.”

They press a bandage over it and you thank them, getting to your feet with the help of Spencer.

“Wait, why’d you get Emily to bring your go-bag if we’re going home?”

He looks almost bashful. Out of his bag, he pulls a three pack of tights. Just the kind you always wear. Down to your preferred brand, and everything.

“When did you-?”

“I noticed you rip them a lot while we’re on cases. I didn’t know if it was weird but then...the socks?” He gestures at his feet, floundering, “I’m sorry if that’s...I just didn’t-”

“No,” You cut off his ramble, “No, Spencer, that’s really sweet. Thank you, thank you so much. Can I hug you?”

He nods, happily. You wrap him into your arms, pressing your face against his chest. Inhaling the scent of him. Reveling in how safe you feel, how protected, thinking how you’d take three hundred stitches if it meant you got Spencer out of harms way. He was so thoughtful, so kind, so attentive to detail.

Oh fuck.

You can barely look at him. It hits you like a train, the realisation. Co-workers save each other from unsubs. Friends buy each other gifts that have meaning and value. But only somebody who is in love feels like this when they get handed tights. Oh.

It’s a warm feeling. Overwhelming. So much so that you miss Spencer saying he’ll be right back, scooting off to Rossi who’s shouting him over with a question the local PD need answering for their report.

You stumble a little, thankful that you have the blood loss and adrenaline rush to blame if anybody were to notice.

You wait for the wave of denial to hit, to come and lock your feelings back in the treasure chest you’ve managed to shove them down into now. It doesn’t come. Instead, you look at Spencer with a sense of awe that feels newfound, but has actually been here all along. Watching him speak to Rossi, you really notice him: just how much he gestures with his hands, how quickly he relays information, how the huge smile on his face, when he turns around to notice you staring, truly meets his eyes.

***

You can’t tell if it makes you a good profiler, or somewhat of a stalker, that you notice Spencer wears the ankle socks you got him to work everyday for the next 9 days.

Spencer worries he’s being a little too obvious, but he can’t help that whenever he sees the socks he beams at them. They remind him of you. Unbeknownst to everybody but Dave (who somehow notices everything), he spends a good minute or so a day sneaking a peek at the novelty socks under his converse. And then trailing his eyes over to you. Thinking how much he loves the person who got them for him.

----

B is for Blindfolds

Tagslist (this is just people who replied to the post about this series and said they’d like to be tagged! let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to this series masterlist): @reidingmelodies @rem-ariiana

[closhelby]

HER. - Thomas Shelby

Smut

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: it’s peaky blinders, with smut

Word Count: 2472

AN: this is my first time writing smut, please give me any tips pls, it’s appreciate. It’s probably shite.

::::::

She always was on his mind. The woman, that always read between the lines, always two steps ahead of him, and had an incredible eye for business. She had left him years prior, leaving for a top business school in London. they never had a title, a label on their relationship, but it wasn’t exactly a secret that they always, somehow, gravitated back to one another. Often people, especially Polly, would say that there was no way two people would be so alike, strong headed but only rarely clashed. 

However y/n’s degree had finished and she was coming back to Small Heath for a period of time before she was going to figure out what exactly what she wanted to do. Y/n was actually great friends with the Shelby family, since growing up with them, living just down the road, they practically lived together. Y/n was actually younger than Tommy, she was ages with Ada and John. They were in the same class throughout school, Ada and y/n regularly wrote to each other, updating each other on Ada’s eventful life as a Shelby still in Small Heath and y/n’s very exciting studying life in London. 

They had actually planned to meet up, for a nice and quiet drink at the Garrison on her return. The thoughts swirled in y/n’s mind as she approached the Garrison, it had just gone 6pm, and she knew as it was a Friday, she did have a possibly of bumping into her first, arguably her only love.  Pushing the thoughts to the back of her head, she pushed open the door to see a fairly crowded Garrison. 

“Ah, y/n, how was London?” Harry shouted, from behind the bar. Y/n smiled at him, walking over to Ada sitting in the back corner. “It was good Harry, nice to be back in this clear Birmingham air”. He chuckled slightly, “Whiskey coming up love”. 

Y/n nodded, taking a seat next to Ada, giving her a cuddle, “Unsure if ive missed this place or not” y/n laughed slightly, eyes scanning the pub, looking for the one man she questioned if she did want to bump into. The pair was throwing back drinks like it was going out of fashion, knowing they would both regret this in the morning. Apparently, Ada wasn't allowing y/n to go back home, and in fact y/n didn't have a home yet and wasn't willing to go back to her parents, so Ada was insisting that she stayed at hers until y/n found a suitable place. Y/n didnt put up a fight, despite them both being hot heads, and taking absolutely no shit from anyone, men or woman, y/n didn't argue. She was actually really thankful for her. 

They eventually stumbled into the house in the early hours of the morning, their laughs echoing throughout the silent house. 

::::

The sun caught y/n directly in the eyes, quickly awoke y/n from her sleep. Her head felt as though someone had been hitting her head against the floor multiple times. Y/n continued to lay there, turning away from the sun, trying to keep the contents of her stomach from getting sprayed all over her and the sleeping Ada. She made an attempt at moving, sat with her head in her hands as she was trying to give herself words of encouragement to get up and make herself something to eat. 

“Fuck sake, why do we do this to ourselves?” Ada moaned from behind her. Y/n scoffed, “ Your bloody idea”.

Quickly standing up, in hope she could get it over with quickly. The room continuing to spin, as she attempted to walk to the door. Ada following closely behind. 

They both sat slumped over the dining room table, as they attempted to sober up and embrace the oncoming hangover. John now present, laughing at the two dying woman in front of him. 

“Good night?”

“Always.” Ada grumbled.

Pol placed a plate in front of them, toast with jam, “Does Tommy know your back? 

Eyes falling onto y/n from every person in their, “No.” answering quietly. 

Attempting to change the subject, “Told myself I would start looking for a new job today, since I shall be staying here for a decent period of time.”

John raised his eyebrow, “Tommy’s looking for a new secretary.” A slight smile on his face, “You've got a good background, business and that”.

“hm, I don't think so Johny boy”.    

“Don’t say no too soon, your a good asset to the business.” Pol added. No one was ever in y/n’s corner more than Pol, they would bang heads sometimes, as neither of them would back down. But she accepted y/n was the only one that had the best interest for Tommy.

The front door closed, and there he stood, the room turning to face Tommy, silence filling the room, then he broke it, “Heard you were back.”

“Yeah,” she replied quietly.

“Well, you know where I am if you need that job, I’m sure you’ve already been told,” he spoke, cigarette hanging from his mouth, as he walked away from them and into his office.

Y/n let out a breath, as though she hadn’t been breathing the whole time he was there. Ada smiled at her, placing her hand onto y/n’s, “I’m just going to get ready for the day love,” and off she went upstairs. The boys getting on with their day, and Pol following suit.

Y/n sat collecting her thoughts while trying to tell herself to face her ex lover, who she was still so deeply in love with. She tapped on the door slightly, opening it before opening it, “hi”, seeing his eyes flutter onto her shot tingles throughout her body, his eyes quickly looking away

“You can start tomorrow if you wish, I need a few papers signed and sent tomorrow. I can get your contract drawn up tonight.” He spoke, his eyes still not lifting from the paper in front of him.

“Yes, that’s fine 8am?”

“8.45, shop doesn’t open until 9. And there are others to set it up, that’s not your job.”

Nodding, “I heard you have a new woman.”

At this point he did look up at her, “I heard you had plenty men in London,”

She laughed slightly, nodding before heading to the door, “none were ever a patch on you,” closing the door, leaving a smirk on Thomas Shelbys face.

The following day came around, as y/n got ready for the day. Putting on a formal black tightly fitted dress, flats and pin curled hair. A slight tint of red lippy, remembering it used to be Tom’s favourite. Assuming Tommy wouldn’t be at the shop at this time, she took a whiskey with her placing it on the desk infront of Tommy’s office. The place was silent, despite there being other employees now starting to arrive, something calming about the place, almost the calm before the storm, she thought.

The hour was now around ten thirty, and there was still no sign of Tommy. She had already finished the papers he had left for her on her desk. It wasn’t the usual small Heath lady, she was educated, and to a very high level. y/n was sat twiddling her thumbs, awaiting Tommy’s arrival to get other things done.

“Y/n. My office please,” his voice low, as he stood behind her. She stood up quickly, following him into the private room.

“There’s your contract, if you wish to have a read over it. I see you’ve finished the work I gave given you for the day.”

Y/n took the contract into her hands, scanning for any mistakes or anything to question. But he actually was paying her nearly double the rate of other staff, and just over that the London rate was, “you’ve done your research eh. More than London rates, impressive. The peaky’s are stepping up in the world” Y/n smiled at him, as she placed the documents on the desk, picking up his pen, and signing it. Y/n Y/l/n. Followed with today’s date. That was now it, she was a Shelby Co Ltd employee.

...

The days turned into weeks, spending time with tommy while no one else was looking was becoming a regular thing. She now had her own place, just doors down from the shop. He would regularly call her into the office, and discuss things that he would usually never utter a word about. It had always been that way with them, since they were little, he would confine in her, telling her all the issue and problems he was facing, both in his mind and with others. But it was also coming to her attention that he was still seeing Grace.

Later on in the day, the clock chimes 11pm, as y/n sat listening to the music that takes her back to a child, while sipping a whiskey. The knock of her front door bringing her out of her daydream, she picked up her handgun that she kept on her at all times. Growing up with The Shelby’s, she had to protect herself in someway. She kept it behind her, out of view for anyone who was in front of her, slowly creeping up to answer the door. She swung it open, gun clocked and pointed directly in the face of Thomas Shelby. Not wasted, but defiantly had a few.

“Ah, can never change a Shelby girl eh” He spoke, laughing slightly as she lowered the gun and he stepped inside. 

“Although, I’ve never been a Shelby girl, have I Tom?”

“Depends who you ask.”

She sighed, stepping in to the fire lit living room, “Drink?”

He nodded in response, and y/n began to pour him a whiskey, topping up hers and handing a full glass over to him. “Why are you here?”

He stepped over to her, the closest they had been together since before she left for London. He placed a hand on her back, pulling her head into touch his, their foreheads touching. The sensation ran through her body like the first time they had ever touched. He placed his hand on around the back of her neck, pulling her into him, his lips crashing onto hers. Their tongues intertwining with each others as the kiss started to deepen.  Y/n reached for his jacket, pulling it off his back, before making her way on to unbuttoning his shirt. Tommy pulled the bottom of her nightdress up, y/n only allowing the kiss to be broken to allow it to come over her head. 

Their lips syncing with each other once again as tommy took his now unbuttoned shirt off, moving onto unbuckling his trousers revealing his already hard length. He began to push her back onto the couch, untangling her lace thongs from around her legs. His fingers trailing over her already wet pussy, “Do it” y/n whispered as she pulled his face back up to kiss hers. 

He didn't even wait as he shoved his length into her. Their bodies rocked in sync together, “Tommy...” Y/n moaned, her fingers trailing down his shirtless torso. The stars were starting to align, the room was warm, full of love. It felt as though it was five minutes but in reality it was around fifteen all in.

Their breath shortened as y/n’s back started to arch as she came close to climax, “cum for me”. He spoke, looking at her directly in the eyes as he rocked her world. The love, chemistry, love and lust, all so very present just as it was back how they were before. Both of them moaning in pleasure, as they both came at the same time. The deep breaths and steamy windows showing the passion that had just unfolded. 

::::::::::::::::::::

It was a Friday evening, a week following the night of sin that taken place between Tommy and Y/n. They had still had the talks in private in the office, and on another occasion she was fucked bent over his desk after closing time. Y/n wasn't one to hide her feelings, it would always be present on her face so when it came to facing Grace in the Garrison, it wasn't hard to tell how y/n’s feelings were over her.  

Pol chuckled softly, clocking the glare Grace was on the opposite end of, “If looks could kill” Ada joining in on the hilarity. 

“She would've been killed 8 times over” Y/n replied, turning back to face the women. Whiskey in hand. 

“Feelings still there for him then?” Ada asked. 

“No, I wouldnt say so” y/n lied. 

“Cant lie to a gypsy woman love” Pol laughed, y/n begining to laugh with her when the doors open to reveal Tommy and his two bothers. Tommy’s icy blue eyes scanning the room, a slight smile shooting over to Y/n before approching the bar where Grace was, where he stood there for a good twenty minutes chatting away to her. 

“I cant take this anymore.” y/n looked over to Ada, who was rising her eyebrow while taking a sip of her drink. She was fairly close to them, and y/n being y/n liked to have a slight stir up now and again. She stood up, smile showing on her face as Pol and Ada laughed, watching her approach them both. 

“So, hows your little fling going?” she spok loud enough that Pol, Ada, Arthur and John could hear her. 

“Y/n” Tommy warned. 

“Who are you?” Grace questioned. 

“Y/N,” she responded, leaning herself against the bar, “The woman he has fucked behind your back multiple times this week.”

Pol snorted, almost chocking on her drink, “ I fucking knew it. Gypsy senses never lie.” 

“To be honest with you Grace, you had absolutely no chance when Y/N came back” Ada added. 

At this point, Tommy had moved y/n away from the bar, into the small room, “what are you doing?”

“You cant take the piss out of me, fucking me but then fucking her thinking youll get away with it.” she was pissed, and he could see it in her face. They had never spoke on their feelings toward each other. Everyone knew that it was always each other but there was nothing that compared to them, they always seemed to go back.

“I have always loved you but you left to go to London, I had people follow you. I knew what you were up to so I assumed you would stay down there, I assumed you had moved on.” He spoke, almost showing vulnerability.

“Oh I know. I can remember faces Tom. I think you forget I can see right through you,” she seethed, through her teeth, “what are you going to do about this?”

Tommy cupped her face, pulling her into kiss her.

“I love you.” He mumbled, feeling her smile into their kiss.

“I love you Tom,”

[felassan]

Some DA trivia and dev commentary from Twitter

There’s a lot of different tweets, so I’m just pasting and linking to the source rather than screencapping them all or making several different posts or something. Post under cut for length.

User: Was dragon age 2 your favourite in the franchise?

David Gaider: DA2 was the project where my writing team was firing on all cylinders, and they wrote like the wind- because they had to! Second draft? Pfft. Plot reviews? Pfft. I was so proud of what we all accomplished in such a brief time. I didn't think it was possible. [source] DA2 is, however, also where the goal posts kept moving. Things kept getting cut, even while we worked. I had to write that dialogue where Orsino turned even if you sided with him, because his boss battle had been cut and there was no time to fix the plot. A real WTF moment. >:( [source]

Mike Rousseau: I remember bugging that! And then being told it wasn't a bug, and being so confused. Doing QA for DA2 was an experience. Trial by fire. [source]

DG: So I think it's safe to say DA2 is my favorite entry in the DA franchise and also the sort of thing I never want to live through ever again. Mixed feelings galore. [source]

User: (I personally blame whoever it was for ruining most romance arcs in other games for me; they don't live up to Fenris's romance storyline)

DG: I wrote Fenris, so uh - me, I guess? Or maybe his cinematic designer, who put in the puppy dog eyes. [source]

User: If DA2 had just been an expansion, do you think it would have been better received? There was a lot of great stuff in there, and I think my initial dislike of it was because of the zone reuse. If it hadn't needed to be a full game, would that issue not have arisen?

DG: Hard to say. It was either going to be an over-scoped expansion or an under-scoped sequel. If it had stayed an expansion, it might never have received the resources/push it DID get. [source]

User: I'd love to visit the universe where you had an extra year or so to work on it. You did a very good job as it stands, but it definitely had rough edges. Not just the writing team either. The whole game had hit and miss moments, that just a little more dev time could have fixed.

DG: On one hand, DA2 existed to fill a hole in the release schedule. More time was never in the cards. DA2 was originally planned as an expansion! On the other, if we had more time, would we have started doing that thing where we second guess/iterate ourselves into mediocrity? [shrug emoji] [source] 

Jennifer Hepler: This is what I love about DA2. Personally, I greatly prefer something that's rough and raw and sincere to something that's had all the soul polished out of it. Extra time would have helped for art and levels, but it would have lost something too. [source]

DG: Right? I think we could have used some time for peer reviews (and fewer cuts), but I think the rawness of the writing lent a certain spark that we usually polished out. [source]

JH: Definitely. I think the structure (more character-driven) and the tightness of the timeframe let each individual writer's voice really come through. Polish can be very homogenizing. [source]

DG: I should add I'm not, by any means, against iteration. Some iteration is good and necessary. The problem that BioWare often had is that we never knew when to stop. Like a goldfish, we would fill the space given to us by constantly re-iterating on things that were "good enough". [source]

Patrick Weekes: I appreciate your incredibly diplomatic use of the past tense on "had". :D [source]

User: DA2 was my gateway into the series and I’m so happy it is. I love the game the way that it is. It’s one of my favorites of all time. But I am also aware of everything that was said here. If it were remastered, do you think it would change?

DG: I'd be surprised if it was ever remastered. If it was, do you really think they'd change things? Do remasters do that? No idea. [source]

User: Both sides got undercut as I recall. Didn't that whole sequence also end with the mage leader embracing blood magic? It was very much "a plague on both your houses" moment, at least for me.

DG: Yep. Orsino was supposed to have his own version of Meredith's end battle, which only happened if you sided with the templars. That got cut, but the team still wanted to use the model we'd made for him. So... that happened. [source]

DG: I would personally say that DA2 is a fantastic game hidden under a mountain of compromises, cut corners, and tight deadlines. If you can see past all that, you'll see a fantastic game. I don't doubt, however, that it's very difficult for most to do that. [source]

PW: I love DAI with all my selfish "I worked on this" heart, but DA2's follower arcs and relationships are probably my favorite in the series. [source]

User: As I've expressed many times, I love the game, especially it's writing and characters but, for me, the most impressive aspect of it, in consideration of it's lack of time for drafts and revisions, is the 2nd act with Arishok.  What amazingly complex character and fantastic duel

User: Just played it again and I have to agree. Though he is bound by the harsher tenants of the Qun, he makes valid points about free marcher society. Though it is obvious that he and Hawke will come to blows eventually, the tension builds gradually and understandably

DG: Luke did such a fantastic job with the Arishok I found myself sometimes wishing the Qunari plot had just been THE plot. [source]

User: What do you think would have changed, story wise, if you had more time for DA2?

DG: I would have taken out that thing where Meredith gets the idol. It was forced on me because she needed to be "super-powered" with red lyrium for her final battle. Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that. [source]

User: I deeply lament that there wasn't/couldn't be some sort of DA2 equivalent of Throne of Bhaal's Ascension mod.

DG: I'd have done it, if DA2 had allowed for anything but the most rudimentary of modding. ;) [source]

User: I mean, and I think I understand where you were trying, but how much legitimacy did the Templars and her as top Templar have after they're keeping the mages locked up against their will in the old slave quarters? Feel free to not reply.

DG: I think it's the kind of discussion which requires nuance, and which discussions on the Internet are not prone to. [source]

User: Was a compromise that the quest lines don’t branch? It felt like it was supposed to be that way but then you end up in the same place later regardless of what you pick. Like I hoodwinked the templars so good to help the apostates escape but in Act II they were caught anyway.

DG: I remember us having a lot more branching in the initial planning yes. Most of this got trimmed out in the first or second wave of cuts, in an effort to not cut the plots altogether. [source]

DG: "If you could Zack Snyder DA2, what would you change?" Wow. I'm willing to bet Mark or Mike (or anyone else on the team) would give very different answers than me, but it's enough to give a sober man pause, because that was THE Project of Multiple Regrets. [source] I mean, it's the most hypothetical of hypotheticals. It's never gonna happen. I wouldn't be surprised if EA considered DA2 its embarrassing red-headed stepchild. We'd also need to ignore that in many ways DA2 was as good as it was bad BECAUSE of how it was made. But that aside? [source] First, either restore the progressive changes to Kirkwall we'd planned over the passing of in-game years or reduce the time between acts to months instead of years... which, in hindsight, probably should have been done as soon as the progressive stuff was cut. [source] I'm sure you're like "get rid of repeated levels!" ...but I don't care about that. All I wanted was for Kirkwall to feel like a bigger city. Way more crowded. More alive! Fewer blood mages. [source] I'd want to restore the plot where a mage Hawke came THIS close to becoming an abomination. An entire story spent trapped in one's own head while trapped on the edge of possession. Why? Because Hawke is the only mage who apparently never struggles with this. It was a hard cut. [source]

User: I would LOVE to hear more details about this! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a short story?

DG: I don't even remember the details of the story, sorry. There was a fight, and you caught the bad guy and then realized none of it was real and woke up idk [source]

DG: I'd want to restore all those alternate lines we cut, meaning people forget they'd met you. Or that they knew you were a mage. Or, oh god, that maybe they'd romanced you in DAO. So much carnage. [source] I'd want to restore the Act 3 plots we cut only because they were worked on too late, but which would have made the buildup to the mage/templar clash less sudden. Though I don't remember what they were, now. Some never got beyond being index cards posted on the wall. [grimace emoji] [source] As I mentioned elsewhere, I'd want to restore Orsino's end battle so he wouldn't need to turn on you even if you sided with him. And I'd want an end fight with the templars that didn't require Meredith to have red lyrium and go full Tetsuo. [source] Heck, maybe an end decision where you sided with neither the mages nor the templars. Because it certainly ended up feeling like you could brand both sides as batshit pretty legitimately, no? That was never planned, tho. No idea how to make that feel like an actual path atm. [source] Maybe an option to go "umm, Anders... what are you DOING?" 👀 [source] And, of course, a Varric romance, because Mary took that "slimy car salesman" character we'd planned and did the impossible with him. I can feel Mary glaring at me for even suggesting this, tho. [source] Lastly, the original expanded opening to the game which allowed you to spend time with Bethany and Carver BEFORE the darkspawn attacked. And, um, that's about it off the top of my head. Zack Snyder, WHAT PANDORA'S BOX HAVE YOU OPENED. [source] Shit, I remembered two more things: 1) Restore the "Varric exaggerates the heck out of the story" at the beginning of every Act, until Cassandra calls him on it. Yes, that was a thing. 2) Make DA: Exodus. Yes, I am still bitter. [source] God damn it, I meant "Make DA: Exalted March". The DA2 expansion, NOT Exodus since that was DA2's original name and makes no sense. Because the expansion ended with Varric dying, and that will always be on my "things left undone" list. [source]

User: Whaaaat?

DG: Well, you know that scene in Wrath of Khan where Spock goes into the dilithium chamber because he's a Vulcan? Well, imagine that but with Varric and red lyrium and because he's a dwarf. ;) [source]

John Epler: I distinctly remember referencing the bit from MGS4 where you crawl through the microwave corridor in the split screen, while cinematic battle rages on the other half. [source]

DG: It would have been glorious, John. Glorious. [source]

JE: I don't think I've ever been so certain what a shot should look like as I did Hawke coming in and finding Varric in the broken throne, just like when he was telling Cassandra his story. [source]

DG: It would have come full circle! Auggghh, it still kills me. [source]

User: Lord, you folks are a little too good at this.

JE: The true secret behind videogame narrative is knowing how to make yourself seem a lot more clever than you actually are. [source] 'Oh, we TOTALLY planned that.' [source]

User: Ok, this thread [the DA2 regrets thread, which is the big chunks above] but Inquisition.

DG: My regrets about Inquisition are, more or less, the normal kind. Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. [source]

User: You can keep your Varric romance, I want a Flemeth romance goddamnit!

DG: I would allow for one flirt option, and then a recording of Kate Mulgrew laughing for three minutes straight. [source]

User: I had a hypothesis about the repetitive caves in DA2. They're repetitive because it's Varric telling the story and he didn't consider them important.  They're like sets in a play.  (Okay, I really suspect it was a time/money/resources thing but I like my fake explanation better.)

DG: Hang a lampshade on it, maybe? Cassandra: "But that's the exact cave you were in last time?" Varric: "Whatever. They all look the same, I'm not THAT kind of dwarf. Can we move on?" [source]

User: that makes sense, hypothetically to make Varric romanceable and keep his arc—that had to happen for the main plot—I imagine you would have to make double the content (or more)? which would've been a tall order given the time/budget constraints the game was under

DG: Right. When it comes to "romance arc" vs. "follower story arc", we generally only had time to do one or the other. Never both. Romancing Varric would have meant not getting the story of his that you did. [source]

Mary Kirby: The one exaggeration I really, REALLY wanted, that we never got to do was Varric narrating his own death scene with Hawke weeping over him, then cutting to Cassandra's pissed off glaring at him. [source]

DG: Haha! The one I wanted was Varric's plot where he takes on the baddies single-handedly, sliding across the floor like Jet Lee, action movie-style, until finally Cassandra gets irritated and he has to admit Hawke & the rest of the party showed up to help. [source]

MK: We did that one! (He didn't do any Jet Lee moves, though.) Jepler gave him letterboxing to get The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly showdown vibes while he shot a ton of mooks single-handed. [source]

DG: Wow. Shows how much I remember. [source]

JE: I found it! I remember seeing this sequence as my treat for doing a bunch of much more challenging work. It was fun to see how far I could push our limited library of animations. [link] [source]

DG: Heh awesome. I could have sworn it was cut, honestly. I think I was even in that meeting. [source]

User: no disrespect but that’s surprising and rich of Mary “Hard in Hightown” Kirby to think DA2 shouldn’t have had a Varric romance when she wrote an entire book of Varric’s self-insert character pining over his Hawke insert character… HIH is the reason we had VHawke Summer 2018

DG: I can't *really* speak for Mary, or how she feels about it now compared to back then. I only know how she felt about it back then, and I'm not sure it was as much the concept of the romance but that Varric's entire story would be bent to "romance arc" ...a very different thing. [source]

JH: I remember pushing to have the first DLC start with Hawke having an option to ask Varric, "Did you tell Cassandra about us?" and if you picked it, Varric would answer, "Of course not, baby. I told her you were sleeping with X..." and then proceed as if you had had a full romance. [source]

DG: I still wonder how that would have gone over. x) [source]

JE: Okay, one more DA2 thing. Putting together the cinematics for this scene was a blast. [link] [source]

MK: These lines are my greatest legacy. I want "Make sure the world knows I died... at Chateau Haine!" inscribed on my tombstone. [source]

JE: I was so glad no one said 'no' to the crane shot. [source]

MK: It needs that crane shot. It's the perfect icing on that cake made from solid cheese. [source]

DG: The designers were all "we need more combat" and I think we were all "I think you underestimate just HOW interesting we can make this dinner party". [source]

JE: And finally. I think @SherylChee wrote the one-liner. I think we had a collection of like, 20. [link] [source]

Sheryl Chee: Yeah! Something like that! I remember submitted a whole bunch and Frank said you only needed one. Wish I'd kept the other fifteen. [source]

JE: A random chooser where, each time through the scene, you get a different one-liner. [source]

JE: DA2 is the project I'm the proudest of. I also absolutely get that it didn't land for a lot of people. But I don't think it's inaccurate to say that, in a lot of ways, DA2 defined my career. [source]  Everyone spent a year working at their maximum ability. I was a fresh cinematic designer and was given all of Varric's content, as well as the Act 1 Finale mission. It was a lot for someone who had been doing the Cinematics thing for literally 6 months. [source]  There's some stuff in there I can't look at without wincing. And there's some stuff I'm genuinely proud of. Not to mention, it was my introduction to most of the writing team. Several of whom I'm still working with today! Albeit in a different capacity [source] Also, weirdly, one of my most enduring memories of Dragon Age 2 is how much Bad Company 2 we'd play at lunch. It was a LOT. [source] Every game I've worked on has a game I played attached to it. ME2 is Borderlands. DA2 is Bad Company 2. DAI is DayZ. I, hmm. There's a progression there. I don't know how I feel about it. [source]

User: Is DA4 going to be tarkov then?

JE: I've kind of churned out of Tarkov for now. Probably Hunt Showdown, at least right now. [source]

User: I think people also don't take nuance into consideration -- like I FULLY acknowledge the flaws in my favorite games and will openly criticize them, but that doesn't mean they're not my favorite games anymore??? You can like and thing and still be critical of it.

JE: A lot of my favourite shit is deeply flawed! I acknowledge it and I think it's interesting to dissect the flaws. [source]

User: I still wish Justice was an actual character in DA2 rather than a plot point.

DG: There was a moment during DAI where we *almost* put in you running into Justice with the Grey Wardens, and he's all "Kirkwall? I never went to Kirkwall" [source]

User: Does that imply that Justice was shoehorned in to DA2?

DG: Nah, it was an in-joke where we thought it'd be fun to suggest that "Justice" was simply some demon that tricked Anders in DA2. Wooo those tricky demons! We didn't do it, though. [source]

User: [about templars]  except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves [source]

User: Can you shed some light for us on how DA was able to do multiple same-sex romance options for different genders but the Mass Effect team treated them like the plague? What process existed for your team that just wasn't their for the other tentpole franchise?

DG: Different people making the decisions, almost different cultures. I don't know what it's like now, but for many years the Mass Effect team and the Dragon Age team were almost like two different studios working within the same building. [source]

User: It truly boggles the mind. Kudos for doing demonstrably better on consistent queer representation than the ME teams. Y'all never needed us to make petitions to try to get the studio's attention and ask them to do better by us. That's the fight we're once again embroiled in now.

DG: Honestly, I don't feel like tut-tutting the Mass Effect team. They did their part, and if they were a bit later to the show than the DA team they certainly did more than almost every other game out there -- and willingly. [source]

Updates begin here

User: So what was the reason for naming Dragon age 2 "Dragon age II" and not using a subtitle?

DG: As I recall, that was purely a publisher decision. I think they wanted to avoid the impression it was an expansion. [source]

User: Is there no chance of ever remaking DA2 under better circumstances? -Somehow remove the repetitiveness of gameplay by making changes and updating the tech and adding much more to the storyline. It could almost be a new very exciting game.

DG: I'd say there's zero chance of that. Let's keep our hopes up for the next DA title instead. [source]

User: I am a little confused here, help me out here please! How exactly was the cut boss battle with Orsino supposed to work out? How it would've kept him from turning against the player?

DG: It means that, if you sided with the templars, the entire boss bottle at the end would have been against Orsino and the mages. No fight against Meredith. The end decision would have been more divergent. [source]

User: I do remember that one of the reasons going around for that, was that resources were going to the transition to Frostbite. I'm still not fully sold on that having been a good choice. I felt that more time should have been given for that transition considering it was made for FPSs

DG: We didn't transition to Frostbite until DAI. Given our time frame for DA2, I don't think we *could* have transitioned to a new engine. [source]

User: Since your talking about the what could have been for DA2. Could you say what your script was for Anthem? Cause I remember reading that you wrote the plot on that game.

DG: I created a setting for Anthem and scripted out a plot - but, as I understand it, almost none of that ended up being used. So it's a bit pointless to talk about what I'd planned, as that'd be for some completely different type of game. [source]

User: [in reference to the exchange above where DG said “Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that.” re: Meredith] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves. [source]

If I missed a tweet, got the wrong source link or included a tweet twice, feel free to let me know and I’ll correct.

Edit / Update: Post update 22nd April

[pregnant-piggy]

Summer Games - one

Blaise Zabini x reader

masterlist

warnings: mentions of food, no pronouns used

A/N: because apparently I can’t write short fics anymore, i turned his idea into a short series! different from the last series, this one is fluffy and light-hearted. I hope you like it!

written for @omgrachwrites​ writing challenge with the prompts: ‘I can’t have this argument with you again.’ ‘But—’ ‘No, I’m done.’ and ‘Sorry… your hair was in your face… thought  I should move it so I could see you better.’

word count: 5.4k

Rain was pouring down from the skies outside, and had been all week. Dark grey heavens had been the ceiling to the world for seven days already and it didn’t seem like it would get any better anytime soon. For May the weather was dull and grim—the complete opposite of the year before when the sun had been out already in March.

Not that many seventh year students were outside anyway. With the exams approaching fast, most time beside classes was spent in the library or in the dark common rooms. To get the students outside after all, the school had decided that despite the rain all outside classes would continue.

Hence you were slipping and sliding over the soggy grass on your way back from Herbology to the castle for lunch, trying to keep up with Pansy who seemed to have less trouble than you. That, however, was not what was bothering you.

‘Come on, Pansy. You know it would be fun! It’s our final year, it’ll be nice!’

Pansy sighed as she caught your arm and pulled you back to your feet after you’d nearly slipped. Nevertheless there was a small smile on her face and you felt like doing a dance, had you not been standing so weakly on your feet.

‘Fine,’ she gave in and you cheered. ‘But good luck trying to convince the guys, if you mention “Summer Games” once more they’ll ignore you for the rest of the day.’

The Summer Games were the annual week-long festival in your grandparents’ hometown. You had been begging your friends to come along with you for years now, but they always found reasons  to not come—the most used one being ‘it’s stupid’. Every year when the end of the school year was approaching your friends would feel it coming and never intentionally brought up the subject of the summer vacation. However this year you wouldn’t just leave it there. You really wanted your friends to come and you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

‘I’ll just use my charming personality,’ you smirked as you followed Pansy to the big table in the Great Hall. ‘They can’t resist that.’

‘Well, Blaise for sure can’t.’

‘Shut up,’ you mumbled as you sat down next to Pansy and she shot you a sly grin.

You chatted with Pansy for a while as you waited for Draco and Blaise to return from their potions class. Meanwhile you tried to come up with ways to convince them, but when they finally arrived you hadn’t many more thoughts than before.

‘Merlin, I’m starving,’ Blaise grumbled as he slumped down on the bench and immediately reached for the food in front of him.

Draco took the seat next to him and shook his head disapprovingly. ‘You don’t know how much I’ve heard that in the past hour. He’s terrible.’

‘Not as annoying as y/n was trying to get me to come with them to their grandparents in the summer,’ Pansy sighed, spooning sugar into her tea.

‘Oh not this again,’ Draco whined and you shot him a mad look.

‘I’ll have you know that Pansy agreed with me actually,’ you said, triumphantly smiling at your friend. ‘So now all you have to do is stop being so stubborn and agree to come.’

‘Never,’ Draco swore, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘Draco, please! It will be fun! It’s our final school year; don’t you think we should do something together?’

‘I can’t have this argument with you again!’ Draco cried out exasperated, throwing his arms up in the air.

‘But—’

‘No, I’m done,’ Draco said and he raised his hand to stop you from talking.

You whimpered sadly and desperately turned to your other friend, who had been solely focused on his lunch and hadn’t joined in the argument. You put up puppy eyes and pouted your lips as you looked at Blaise. ‘Blaise?’

He looked up and you could have sworn something flickered in his eyes when he looked at you. Slowly he lowered his fork and turned from you to Draco and back to you. You were still pouting and Blaise chuckled at your face, making your cheeks burn.

‘Please, Blaise? You wouldn’t turn me down, would you?’ you asked sweetly and tilted your head to the side a little. Next to you, Pansy scoffed softly and you kicked her shin, causing her to hiss in pain.

Blaise stayed silent for a while as he contemplated what to say, but eventually he shot you a small smile and shrugged. ‘I guess it wouldn’t be too bad…’

/\/\/\

The sun was shining fiercely down on the roof of the bus shelter and the beams were even hotter through the glass. Trees were nowhere to be seen on the side of the road so shadow was a scarce thing.

Draco stood next to you and even though he had arrived ten minutes earlier, you still weren’t done laughing. In all the years that you had known Draco not once had you seen him in shorts, so when he had crossed the street to the bus shelter at first you hadn’t even recognised him. Then when you had noticed Draco’s face you had started to laugh so hard that your backpack had slipped from your shoulder and you had nearly fallen to your knees.

Draco was wearing black shorts and underneath stuck two very pale legs that you thought had never seen daylight before. But that wasn’t what was so bad about it; after all pale legs were just a natural thing. The bad thing about it was that above it Draco was wearing an orange, flower-patterned shirt that clashed terribly with his skin colour and on top of it all a bucket hat, something that surprised you Draco even had it, let alone wear it.

It was such a difference from the always neat Draco you knew that you hadn’t even heard his explanation over your laughter. And now he was scowling at you as you picked up your bag from the ground.

‘It’s hot, y/n,’ Draco tried. ‘You seriously don’t expect me to wear black pants in the summer, do you?’

‘Is this what you wear at home too? Does your dad dress this way as well?’ you snickered and sat down on the little bench in the bus shelter.

‘Oh, shut it,’ Draco said and he turned away from you.

Next to arrive was Blaise. You waved at him as he walked into the street and a big smile formed on his face when he recognised your figure. You blushed and quickly averted your eyes, but Draco had already seen it and he was laughing at you.

‘Did the other seniors enjoy the cruise as much as you?’ you shot back and Draco turned red, grumbling something as he turned away.

Blaise walked up to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder—something he usually never did. Blood rushed to your head and you could only smile giddily while trying to not let your heart explode.

‘Am I the first one to arri—’ Blaise started but his eyes widened when he saw Draco in his orange shirt. ‘Wow, where’d you get that shirt? You look like an orange threw up on you.’

You chortled and slapped your hand over your mouth, while Draco looked angrily at his friend. Blaise’s chest moved up and down as he laughed and you felt his low chuckle in your bones. Before you could do anything embarrassing you disentangled from Blaise’s arm and looked into the street, seeing if Pansy was there to save you.

However it took another five minutes before Pansy arrived and in those five minutes you listened to Blaise coming up with more jokes about Draco’s shirt. You laughed when Blaise started to attack the bucket hat and when Pansy finally joined the group you were wiping the tears from your eyes. Blaise was looking at you with an exultant smile and you blushed, shaking your head lightly at the terrible jokes.

‘Oh Merlin, why are you wearing that, Draco?’ Pansy cried out as soon as she stood at the bus shelter. ‘Is that why we never get pictures of you in the summer?’

‘It’s a perfectly fine shirt!’ Draco scoffed. ‘Why aren’t we attacking Blaise on his green shirt?’

‘Because he looks good in it,’ you said without thinking, receiving two surprised stares from Pansy and Draco and a thankful smile from Blaise. ‘You don’t, Draco, like really not.’

‘Alright, alright,’ Draco said, throwing his hands up in defence. ‘I won’t wear this shirt anymore. Is that what you want?’

‘I’d rather you throw that shirt away, but alright,’ Pansy said and she took her bag as the bus arrived. ‘That will do for now.’

The four of you got on the bus with all your bags and you shot the driver an apologetic smile as Draco entered the bus swearing behind Pansy, trying to get back at her. You followed after him and pushed him in his back, forcing him further into the bus.

Pansy took place in a seat at the end of the bus and Draco quickly sat down next to her and started to talk to her, but you didn’t miss Pansy’s mischievous smile as you sat down and had to make place for Blaise. He sat down next to you with a sigh and placed his backpack on the ground at his feet.

You weren’t not used to sit next to Blaise or be in close proximity, but every time it happened you felt your heartbeat pick up and your cheeks get hotter. Sometimes you wished to go back to a time when that didn’t happen, though if you were honest you also liked the way Blaise made you feel. It was a dangerous game, but you enjoyed playing it.

‘How long to your grandparents?’ Blaise asked as he stared at the board above the exit of the bus that showed the route and the stops of the bus.

‘It’s one of the last stops,’ you said, leaning back in your seat. ‘If there isn’t too much traffic I think we’ll be there in two and a half, maybe three hours.’

‘Hmm,’ Blaise hummed and he took his backpack from the floor, unzipping it. ‘Good thing I brought these then.’ And he pulled out a box with your favourite cookies, shaking them in front of you.

‘Oh, Blaise you are amazing!’ you exclaimed and wrapped your arms around him. ‘Did you get these for me?’

Blaise chuckled as you let him go and opened the box. ‘Well, actually they’re for Draco, but then he decided to wear that ugly shirt.’

‘You know, just because I am not sitting next to you, doesn’t mean I don’t hear what you say,’ Draco said and you looked past Blaise to the angry blond.

‘I know,’ Blaise said drily and he gave you a cookie.

You spent the bus ride talking with Blaise and playing travel scrabble. Pansy had finally let go on Draco’s shirt and after a while he lost his grumpiness and joined Blaise to destroy you in the scrabble game. You shared sweets and stories; Draco told how he had applied for a job at the store that sold potions ingredients in Hogsmeade, Pansy had an elaborate story on how she had gotten into a fight with her sister because she had refused to help her with her homework and after your friends had begged, you told how you had seen Neville Longbottom throw up before he had had to give a speech at the graduation at the end of the school year.

‘Poor kid,’ Pansy said and she shook her head. ‘I hope he overcomes his insecurities. It is no life he lives.’

After almost two and a half hours, the bus drove off the main road into the green countryside of the town your grandparents lived in. The sun was setting lower in the sky and it shone through the window on your left, illuminating Blaise���s face with a golden light. He was leaning his head back and had his eyes closed. The sunlight lay as a feather light blanket over the features of his face.

You couldn’t look away. Entranced by the beauty of the boy next to you, you fell into a haze. Your surroundings disappeared into a blur of colours and soft sounds and all you could focus on was Blaise’s sun-kissed face. It costed all the strength in your body to not reach out and brush your fingers over his cheeks.

‘y/n?’

You shot up from your daze and shook your head. If you couldn’t keep yourself together this would be a difficult trip.

‘Aren’t we near our stop?’ Draco asked and you looked past Blaise at him.

Outside the plain meadows with cows and sheep had changed for the cobblestone roads. The bus was approaching a little village that was coming nearer with the minute. The first lonely farmhouses stood next to the road, with front yards full of blooming flowers and colourful curtains behind the windows.

The bus stopped before entering the village, where the streets were so narrow it wouldn’t fit. There was a little square where the vehicle made a turn to leave in the way it came later. With a shock the bus came to a halt and Blaise’s eyes fluttered open.

‘We’re here, sleepy head,’ you said and nudged him with your elbow.

Blaise shot you a sleepy smile and he got up from his seat. He took your and his bag from above the seats and as he had his hands above his head, his shirt lifted and you could see his stomach and a small part of the waistband of his boxers. Taking a deep breath, you averted your eyes and busied yourself with the fabric on the bus seats.

All packed with your bags you stepped from the bus onto the square at the beginning of the village your grandparents lived. A warm sense of familiarity washed over you at seeing the houses. You only came here once a year in the summer, but all the memories you had of the village were ones you were fond of. The old houses and little streets always made you feel welcome, no matter how long you had been away.

‘Let’s go,’ you said and took your bag on your shoulders. ‘They’re waiting for us.’

/\/\/\

Sunlight peaked through the crack between the curtains, lighting up the bedroom. Blaise groaned and he turned around in his bed, blocking out the light by pulling his pillow over his face. The darkness pleasantly fell over his face and he would have fallen asleep again had it not been for Malfoy.

In the bed next to him, Draco was whirling and kicking against his bedsheets. Blaise had shared a room with Draco for seven years so he was used to the sounds of the boy in the morning, but that was when they were at school. Blaise wasn’t so fond of getting woken this early by Draco in the summer.

‘Shut up, idiot,’ Blaise grumbled from under his pillow and Malfoy’s movements silenced.

‘I can’t help it,’ Draco shot back, his grumpy tone laced with sleep. ‘These sheets are so uncomfortable!’

He started to move again and Blaise let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Spoiled little brat you are,’ he muttered. ‘These sheets are fine.’

‘Ugh, I guess they are “fine” but I’m just used to silk,’ Draco went on, still not lying still. ‘You don’t think they have those here, do you?’

Blaise lifted his head from under his pillow and shot Draco an angry look. ‘No they don’t and don’t you dare ask for it. y/n’s grandparents are so nice to let us stay here and you won’t be an ungrateful guest. Didn’t your mommy teach you manners?’

‘Fine,’ Draco said and he rolled his eyes.

After that Draco stopped moving around so much and content Blaise dropped his head back on his mattress. He pulled his pillow back over his head again, but before he could even let it go, the door opened and you burst inside. Draco squealed and pulled the sheets up to his neck as if he had something to hide.

‘Draco, please,’ you snickered. ‘I’ve seen much more from you.’

It was as if the sun itself had entered the room now you were here and Blaise turned on his back, putting the pillow under his head. You were still laughing at Draco who was grumbling and trying to pull his pyjama shirt straight. With a sleepy smile on his face Blaise watched as you rolled your eyes at Draco and then turned to Blaise.

‘Come on, guys! Breakfast is waiting!’ you exclaimed and smiled at Blaise before you left the room.

When you were out of sight, Blaise’s smile faltered and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Slowly and grunting he sat up in bed, stretching his arms over his head. The wooden floor squeaked under his feet as he got up and went to search for his clothes.

‘If I had known all those years that it just takes y/n to get you up in the morning…’ Draco started but a yawn interrupted his comment.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Blaise muttered as he pulled his shirt over his head. Fully dressed he made his bed neatly and felt Draco’s eyes on him as he did. ‘What?’

‘Are you wearing green again because y/n said that you looked good in it yesterday?’ Draco asked, tilting his head to the side as he watched Blaise intently.

Blaise pulled the sheets over the bed and looked up at Draco. He was still sitting in bed, wearing his satin pyjamas and his hair was a mess. Chuckling Blaise walked to the door and before he disappeared he said: ‘It doesn’t matter what I wear, next to you I always look good.’

Your grandparents’ house wasn’t as big as the farmhouses the bus had passed, but it was still big enough for the company. Draco and Blaise slept in one bedroom and you and Pansy slept in the one next to it. Your grandparents had a room on the floor above so you weren’t of any trouble to them at night.

Your grandparents were very friendly people. Yesterday they had welcomed their grandchild lovingly and after you had introduced everyone they had welcomed Blaise, Pansy and Draco with just as much love. Dinner had been ready already and Blaise hadn’t known what was better; the food at Hogwarts or your grandparents’ food. During dinner Blaise had talked with your grandmother and he had learned that your craziness for the Summer Games wasn’t just you; it was the whole village.

‘Good morning!’ you cheered from the kitchen counter when Blaise entered the kitchen.

He smiled at you and sat down next to Pansy, who was wearing a sly grin as she looked at Blaise and then at you. He grimaced and shook his head. Apparently his little crush on you hadn’t gone completely unnoticed.

‘Coffee?’ you asked as you got to the table with a pitcher of coffee.

‘Yes, please,’ Blaise said and he pushed the mug near his plate to you.

You filled it and then placed the pitcher on the table. While you sat down, Blaise took a sip of his coffee and welcomed the warm liquid in his body. Slowly he felt himself waking more and more and he could actually appreciate waking up this early for once.

‘Where are your grandparents?’ Blaise asked over his coffee.

‘My grandfather is in the garden and grandma is part of the organisation of the festival so she’s at the fields already.’

A silence fell over the breakfast table and the three of you drank your coffee and tea quietly, letting the sleep fade from your system. After five minutes the floors squeaked and Draco entered the kitchen with a grumpy look on his face.

‘Oh dear Merlin, we’ve awoken the monster,’ Pansy mumbled as Draco sat down at the table. She filled Draco’s cup with coffee and pressed it in his hands. ‘Drink this, it’ll keep the demons at bay.’

Breakfast went on silently and only when you were putting away the dishes after, Draco had got over his grumpiness. Blaise was helping you cleaning out the table and stood with his back towards to table when Draco spoke his first words of the morning.

‘Why so early?’

Blaise placed the plates next to the sink and turned around to you. You shrugged and collected the empty coffee cups while you answered. ‘The festival doesn’t start until twelve, so I thought I’d show you the village. Was it too early?’

‘No, of course not,’ Blaise answered quickly before Draco could open his mouth and this one shot him an angry look. Blaise chuckled and took the cups from your hands, placing them next to the plates.

You shot him a grateful look and then turned around to Pansy and Draco who were still sitting at the table. ‘Go on then,’ you said. ‘Let’s get going!’

/\/\/\

Out in the fields around the village the festival of the Summer Games had been built. The meadows that belonged to the farmers and were used for their cows turned into quite the happening in the summer. For a week the whole village would slow down their work and put most of their attention in the Summer Games.

It was nearing noon when Blaise and his friends got to the fields. All around were little booths with products of the people in the village, such as jars of honey, paintings of the hills and handmade wooden ornaments. The stalls were decorated with colourful garlands around the edges and handwritten signs. During your tour through the village Blaise had wondered why it had been so quiet, but now it was clear that everyone had been at the fields already—all the booths were occupied by at least one person behind them, arranging the final things before the festival would start.

At the back of the meadow a small stage had been placed. It was just enough for a little band to perform on and indeed there stood two men and a woman next to the stage, talking to who seemed to be the stage-manager. In front of the stage space for a dancefloor had been created and behind that stood a couple picnic tables.

‘Welcome to the festival!’ you exclaimed and turned around to your three friends. ‘Signing up starts in a few minutes I think, so we have some time to look around.’

Blaise looked aside to Draco and was surprised to find his friend actually interested by everything around him. This all wasn’t very Draco, but he seemed to enjoy it.

‘What do we need to sign up for?’ Pansy asked, as she linked her arm with yours.

‘The Games are played in teams,’ you explained, walking towards one of the stands with Blaise and Draco trailing behind you. ‘You play the games in the next days as part of a team and earn points for winning. The team that has the most points at the end of the week wins.’

You led your friends to one of the nearby booths that sold cherries and all things made of that. On the other side of the table stood a man in his early fifties, wearing a straw hat over his red, sunburned face. A wide smile spread on his face when he saw you.

‘y/n! How great to see you!’ the man greeted you and you smiled at him. ‘How are you?’

‘It’s good to see you too, Hank,’ you said. ‘I’m great! We arrived yesterday evening and we’re staying for the whole week.’

Hank looked past you at Blaise, Draco and Pansy and through his smile Blaise could see a golden tooth.

‘You finally convinced them to come?’ Hank asked you and he leaned back.

Pansy raised her eyebrow at Blaise and Draco and turned to you. ‘You talk about us here?’

‘Of course,’ you said and turned to your friends. ‘Everyone here knows I’ve been trying to get you here for years now.’

‘Well, that doesn’t make us look good,’ Draco mumbled and he held his hand over his eyes as he looked out on the field, like he was searching for people that were commenting on him.

Hank either didn’t hear or ignored Draco’s comment and he brushed away a wasp from his cherry pastries. ‘So you’re done now at that… Scottish boarding school of yours?’

You laughed softly and as you answered, Blaise’s stomach started to growl loud enough for everyone, including Hank, to hear it. They turned to him and he shot an apologetic smile. ‘I’m sorry, can’t really help it.’

‘Don’t worry, boy,’ Hank said and reached for the plate with cherry pastries. ‘Take one on the house.’

Blaise wanted to decline out of courtesy but his stomach didn’t allow for him to be kind. He took a pastry of the plate and his friends followed after him. It was silent as you all took a bite, but after the first bite the silence was swapped for satisfied moans. The pastry was light and sweet, but a little sour from the cherries and Blaise swore it was one of the best things he had ever eaten.

‘This is amazing!’ Pansy moaned loudly and a passer-by shot her a weird look. She winked at them suggestively and they walked on quickly.

Blaise laughed at Pansy, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t feel the same. The cherry pastries were a bit of heaven. He closed his eyes as he took another bite and when he opened them, he was met with your gaze. Immediately the blood rushed to his cheeks and he looked away.

‘Glad to know they are liked,’ Hank said. ‘My husband will be happy to hear that.’

From the stage something incomprehensible was said and you looked up. ‘Say hi to him from me!’ you said, while you made your way to the stage, waving at Hank behind you. ‘I’ll catch up with you later!’

Blaise followed you to the picnic tables near the stage and sat down next to you. His arm was pressed against yours as someone else sat next to him and he could feel his heart beating in his throat. He wasn’t a stranger from being close to you, but that didn’t mean that it did nothing to him. Every time he was touching you or sitting close to you his heart would leap and a strange sense of comfort washed over him.

Slowly the tables started to fill with people until there were no empty spaces left. It surprised Blaise to see how many people there were when the village hadn’t seemed that big at all. And it surprised him even more to see how many of those people knew you. Some came up to make a little chat and others just waved at you from their spot. You answered everyone with a big smile and Blaise grew happier the longer he looked at your smile.

Eventually you turned to your friends and explained what was going on. ‘It will start soon. The head of the organisation will shortly say something and then we have till six this evening to sign up for the teams.’

On the stage a tall, dark woman stepped behind the microphone and the chatter from the people at the picnic table fell silent. The woman tapped on the mike to make sure it worked and then said: ‘Hello and welcome to the fifty-sixth Summer Games!’

Blaise turned his head to you. ‘Fifty-sixth?’

‘Yeah, it’s been going for quite a while,’ you nodded and then a smile formed on your lips as you looked at Blaise.

‘What?’ he asked, afraid he had done something.

‘This year too has been organised by some of the greatest of our village,’ the woman on the stage went on, but the names were lost on Blaise as he watched you in anticipation.

‘It’s nothing,’ you chuckled softly. ‘You just—you got something on your cheek…’

Blaise’s hand immediately shot up to his cheek but he felt nothing. You were still looking at him and a cute giggle fell from your lips while Blaise attempted to clean his cheek.

‘Here, let me,’ you said and pushed Blaise’s hand away. You brought your hand closer to his cheek and cupped his jaw. Your fingers were light on his skin and once again that familiar feeling of comfort fell over Blaise.

Sooner than Blaise liked you pulled your hand back. On your finger was a dark red smudge from the cherry jam on the pastry. Blaise smiled sheepishly and shook his head a little embarrassed.

‘Thanks,’ he mumbled, feeling like his cheeks were on fire.

‘No problem,’ you said and you licked the jam off your finger without giving it a second thought before you turned back to the woman on stage.

‘Choose your team wisely,’ she said. ‘Tonight at seven we will announce the teams and tomorrow the first games will begin. For now I wish you a happy time at our festival!’

/\/\/\

There were four teams competing in the Summer Games. Each team had their own team captain, usually someone who had been playing in the Games for an extended period of time and knew how the games worked. For as long as you had been playing the Games you had been part of the Red Titans, a team led by Wyatt Holm, the town’s baker. Your team’s strongest opponents were the Sly Foxes. For the past ten years the point-difference between the Titans and the Foxes was minimal and it was always a neck-and-neck race. The rivalry between Wyatt and Alysia Gemeti, the Foxes’ team captain since three years, ran high during the week of the festival.

The other two teams were the Raging Angels and the Oiled Machines. You didn’t know where the names had come from, but they had been like that since the beginning and no one wanted to change them.

They had announced the teams an hour ago and you were walking back with your friends to your grandparents’ house. You and Pansy had signed up for the Red Titans, like you did every year, and you had figured the boys had too.

Only you had been wrong.

‘The Foxes?! Seriously?’ you cried incredulously. ‘You signed up for the Foxes? Why?’

Draco looked at you and shrugged like he didn’t really care. Blaise avoided your eyes as he was staring at his feet. You stared at your friends with faked anger. Although you had wanted all of you to be in the same team so you could play together, you guessed it wouldn’t be too bad to play against them. Plus, that would make winning even better.

‘It was Blaise’s idea really,’ Draco then said to which Blaise scowled.

‘No it wasn’t! You’re the one that blindly followed that girl!’

Curiosity got the better of you and you forgot to be angry for a moment. ‘What girl?’

Draco’s cheeks immediately changed colour and he looked away from you. He stammered something incomprehensible and started to walk a bit faster. You grabbed his arm and pulled him back, but Draco wouldn’t open his mouth again.

Pleadingly you looked at Blaise.

‘I didn’t catch her name but I guess she’s a little older than us. Light brown skin, dark hair and I wanna say dark eyes, but I’m not sure about that,’ Blaise said.

‘Alysia,’ you mumbled as you matched Blaise’s description with the picture of the Foxes’ team captain in your mind.

‘She was clearly interested in Blaise,’ Draco pointed out, his cheeks still red but seemingly more confident now.

‘Really?’ Pansy asked, shooting you a glare.

‘She wasn’t interested in me!’ Blaise shook his head. ‘She asked if we’d signed up for a team already. Then Draco started to stammer and turned red as a beet. He would’ve given her all his money if she’d asked.’

‘I would not!’ Draco cried out. ‘Now can we please change the subject?’

You chuckled at Draco’s exasperated face and looked past him at Blaise. He was watching you with a small smile and you felt butterflies erupting in your stomach. Quickly you turned away and stared at the pavement tiles under your feet.

‘So now we’re competing against each other?’ Pansy asked and you nodded. ‘That’s gonna be fun. We’re gonna demolish you guys.’

- - - - - - - 

taglist

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MASTERLIST

[kellyvela]

GRRM has said in interviews that he’s purposely played with the romantic tension between the hound and Sansa. What do you think the endgame purpose of the unkiss and that playing is meant to be for?

This is all what he said about the matter in question so far:

The Hound and Sansa, romantic or platonic? It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you!

JUNE 24, 1999 THE HOUND AND SANSA

Moreta12: I understand, I’ve heard your opinion on that. In ACOK, it seems that the relationship between the Hound and Sansa had romantic undertones. Is that true?

GeoRR: Well, read the book and decide for yourself.

Moreta12: I’ve read the book and I’ve debated those particular scenes with a few others. Half say that it’s romantic and half say it’s platonic. I’ve taken the romantic stance.

GeoRR:  It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you

Moreta12:Yes, but it seem like evidence points towards romantic undertones. Will the Hound appear later?

GeoRR: Yes, the Hound will be in STORM OF SWORDS. In fact, I just finished writing a big scene with him.

[Source]

When will Sansa be “legal”?  **ºª@”¡¿x<%$!&?

OCTOBER 05, 1999 AGE OF SEXUAL RELATIONS IN WESTEROS

The nature of the relationship between Sandor and Sansa has been a hot topic on Revanshe’s board. Sansa’s youth has been one focus of the discussion. What is the general Westerosi view as to romantic or sexual relationships involving a girl of Sansa’s age and level of physical maturity?

A boy is Westeros is considered to be a “man grown” at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us.

However, for girls, the first flowering is also very significant… and in older traditions, a girl who has flowered is a woman, fit for both wedding and bedding.

A girl who has flowered, but not yet attained her sixteenth name day, is in a somewhat ambigious position: part child, part woman. A “maid,” in other words. Fertile but innocent, beloved of the singers.

In the “general Westerosi view,” well, girls may well be wed before their first flowerings, for political reasons, but it would considered perverse to bed them. And such early weddings, even without sex, remain rare. Generally weddings are postponed until the bride has passed from girlhood to maidenhood.

Maidens may be wedded and bedded… however, even there, many husbands will wait until the bride is fifteen or sixteen before sleeping with them. Very young mothers tend to have significantly higher rates of death in childbirth, which the maesters will have noted.

As in the real Middle Ages, highborn girls tend to flower significantly earlier than those of lower birth. Probably a matter of nutrition. As a result, they also tend to marry earlier, and to bear children earlier. There are plenty of exceptions.

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator

JUNE 26, 2001 SF, TARGARYENS, VALYRIA, SANSA, MARTELLS, AND MORE

[GRRM is asked about Sansa misremembering the name of Joffrey’s sword.]

The Lion’s Paw / Lion’s Tooth business (*), on the other hand, is intentional. A small touch of the unreliable narrator. I was trying to establish that the memories of my viewpoint characters are not infallible. Sansa is simply remembering it wrong. A very minor thing (you are the only one to catch it to date), but it was meant to set the stage for a much more important lapse in memory. You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom… but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it’s a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on.

[Source]

(*) It was Arya who misremembered the name of Joffrey’s sword tho…

Unreliable Narrator 2.0

OCTOBER 05, 2002 SANSA’S MEMORY

[Note: This mail has been edited for brevity.]

… this is an inconsistency with ASoS more than an outright error. In ASoS, Sansa thinks that the Hound kissed her before leaving her room and King’s Landing. In ACoK, no kiss is mentioned in the scene, though Sansa did think that he was about to do so.

Well, not every inconsistency is a mistake, actually. Some are quite intentional. File this one under “unreliable narrator” and feel free to ponder its meaning

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 3.0

NOVEMBER 27, 2007 GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS

Here’s a really particular question (which I realize means it probably won’t get asked in a general interview): In A Storm of Swords, there is a chapter early on where Sansa is thinking back to the scene at the end of A Clash of Kings when The Hound came into her room during the battle. She thinks in the chapter about how he kissed her, but in the scene in A Clash of Kings, this actually didn’t happen. Was that a typo or something? —Valdora

GRRM: It’s not a typo. It is something! [Laughs] ”Unreliable narrator” is the key phrase there. The second scene is from Sansa’s thoughts. And what does that reveal about her psychologically? I try to be subtle about these things.

[Source]

Sansa may be dead but Alayne is alive

APRIL 15, 2008 FUTURE MEETINGS, POVS, ARYA’S ROLE, EASTERN LANDS, AND ASSASSINS

[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?]

Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone.

[Source]

A lot more dangerous than romantic

AUGUST 2, 2009 AS SER JORAH MORMONT…

weltraummuell: The Hound Oh please don’t cast an old guy for the Hound, his scenes with Sansa are so romantic and erotic, I couldn’t bear if it’d feel creepy all of a sudden. Well, that’s me making demands. LOL

GRRM: Re: The Hound Old guy? No, but… the Hound is still a whole lot older than Sansa, and was never written as attractive… you know, those hideous burns and all that… he’s a lot more dangerous than he is romantic.

kestrana: The Hound Yeah its a “girl always wants the bad boy” kind of thing although Sansa seems to pull something else out of him. It feels so wrong sometimes but I want to see them together again tee hee.

weltraummuell: The Hound Hehe, George, maybe you didn’t intend it, but he turned out to be a very erotic character to female readers. Especially since he’s mutilated and dangerous. Makes him unpredictable and vulnerable which is the most explosive aphrodisiac for a girl’s fantasy. ;)

weltraummuell: The Hound And I know from discussions on other board other women feel just the same about Sandor. He’s an absolute favourite with the ladies!

halfbloodmalfoy: The Hound LOL, you’re such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

GRRM: The Hound But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for

JUNE 22, 2012 SWORD & LASER VIDEO PODCAST

GRRM: I am sometimes surprised by the reactions, of women in particular, to some of the villains. The number of women over the years who have written to me that their favorite characters are Jaime Lannister or Sandor Clegane [the Hound] or Theon Greyjoy… All of these are deeply troubled individuals with some very dark sides, who have done some very dark things. Nonetheless, they do draw this response, and quite heavily, I think, in the case of some of them, from my female readers in particular.

Veronica Belmont: I’m a big fan of the Hound, myself, actually.

Tom Merritt: Of Sandor? Really?

Veronica Belmont: Yeah, the Hound… Maybe it’s not because I feel any compassion towards them, I’m not really sure what the attraction is. Ah, I’m not going to call it attraction, actually. Let’s just say it’s a fascination, perhaps.

GRRM: [Chuckles] Well, I mean, fascination is one thing, but some of these letters indicate that there really is like a romantic attraction going on there. And I do know there’s all these people out there who are, as they call themselves, the “San/San” fans, who want to see Sandor and Sansa get together at the end. So that’s interesting, too.

Tom Merritt: The TV show has sort of played with that a little, and probably stoked those fires.

GRRM: Oh, sure. And I’ve played with it in the books. There’s something there, but it’s still interesting to see how many people have responded to it.

[Source]

I played with it but I didn’t get the answer I was waiting for 2.0

JUNE 23, 2015 GRRM Q&A AT THE SCIENCE FICTION BOOKSTORE IN STOCKHOLM

Question: “Is there any fan reactions that you have been surprised by, like is there a character that’s more popular than you thought or have people been shocked by something you didn’t think we would be shocked at?”

GRRM: “I’m reasonably certain what people will be shocked by. I knew that the Red Wedding would provoke a big reaction and it did. I was pretty confident that, you know, throwing Bran out the window and then killing Ned in the first book would get reactions, and indeed they did. All of those worked exactly the way it did to the extent that things that have surprised me, they tend to be smaller things. I guess I… Maybe I should not have, I don’t know. How do I phrase this without getting myself in terrible trouble… I guess I don’t understand women, but I was definitely, you know, way back when, surprised by the number of women who reacted positively to characters like Theon and the Hound as dashing, romantic figures. The san/san kind of thing took me by surprise, I must admit, and even more so the women who, and there are some, who really like Theon. So that surprised me.”

[Source]

Unreliable Narrator 4.0

DECEMBER 2016 ASKING GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ABOUT S@N/S@N

My question is regarding Sansa Stark. Her sexuality has evolved through every book and yet the memory that seems to stick the more with her in this regard is the night of the Blackwater. So I was wondering if you can expand on your view on what this is, since as before that night her interactions with Sandor Clegane weren’t really physical.

The night of the Blackwater, yes. Ahhh… Well, I’m not going to give you a straight answer on that hahaha… Uhmmm, but I would say that ahhh… you know a television show and a book each has its own strengths and weaknesses; there a re tools that are available to me as a novelist, that are not available to people doing a television show. And of course there are tools available to them, that are not available to a novelist, I mean they can lay in a soundtrack, they can do special effects, they can do amazing things that I can’t do, I just have words on paper. What can I do, well I can use things like the internal narrative, I can take you inside of territories… thoughts, which you can’t do in a TV show… Ahhh… You just have the words they speak, you see them from outside because the camera is external, while prose is internal, and I have the device known as “unreliable narrator”… Ahhh… Which again, they don’t have. So, think about those two aspects when you consider that night of the Blackwater.

[Source]

Do with it what you will.

[degrassi-fanatic]

Window Sill

As Kakashi wanders through the streets of Konoha, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of Icha Icha Tactics, he hears children’s laughter ringing through the alleyways as a familiar brown and blue blur races right past him, towards the direction of the hospital. 

Shaking his head, Kakashi laughs softly at their antics; Konohamaru really is just another Naruto.

 And just like Naruto, he’s about to be beaten half an inch from death.

 As he predicted, in the distance, Kakashi can hear Sakura-chan shout, followed by the loud crack of a chakra enhanced fist and the sounds of Konohamaru and his little gang of delinquents wailing in pain.

 He’s about to sprint off towards the hospital to save the children from Sakura’s rage when he notices Ebisu’s already halfway there, shouting something like “Just because you can fix bones, Sakura-san, doesn’t mean you should break them.”

 A wave of nostalgia washes over him. It only feels like yesterday when Kakashi had to be the one to stop Sakura from giving Naruto permanent brain damage from a grade 3 level concussion.

 Speaking of the little punk, Kakashi senses his familiar chakra pattern not too far away. 

 Shutting his book, he turns around only to bump into the younger man, who seems to have been standing only a hair-breadth away from him. Naruto looks uncharacteristically nervous as he darts his eyes everywhere and anywhere that isn’t Kakashi’s own. 

 “Naruto.�� he greets, as he takes a step back to put some space in between them.

 “You were in ANBU, right, Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto asks out of the blue, wringing his hands out in front of him. 

 Dread begins to build up in the pit of his stomach. 

 There’s only one reason why Naruto would be so anxious asking about Kakashi’s time in the ANBU forces.

 In his whole life, Kakashi had never expected for Naruto to figure him out. He had always operated under the assumption that Naruto was simply young enough for those memories to have disappeared as he grew older, or that his ANBU commissioned mask was enough to hide his identity, or that maybe Naruto would simply learn to let the matter go. 

 It goes without saying that he’s a fool for believing in that last one.

 “Yes.” Kakashi answers back, a touch wary.

 “Do you know who Hound is?”

 The question confuses him to no end. 

 Why on Earth would Naruto ask Kakashi who Hound is? Was it some weird tactic to get him to tell the truth? Was it a last chance to own up to everything? Doesn’t Naruto know that Kakashi is…

 That’s just it, Kakashi realizes, Naruto doesn’t know that he is Hound. 

 He doesn’t know that it was Kakashi, who up until Naruto had entered the Academy at the age of eight, had been spending every available night in between his ANBU mission with him. 

 “Hound?” he pretends to ponder as he tilts his head to the side, “Why do you care about him?”

 Suddenly, Naruto drops his chin down to rest at his chest, his hands curling up into fists as his whole spine does ramrod straight. 

 He mutters something under his breath but it’s unintelligible, even to his heightened sense of hearing. 

 “Sorry?” Kakashi asks, as he leans in closer to listen. 

 “He used to take care of me.” Naruto mumbles out. 

 When Naruto was still only a baby, Kakashi remembers standing guard inside of his nursery. Sometimes, when he would wake up in a crying fit, Kakashi would either have to bottle-feed him milk or rock him back to sleep. Other times, the only thing that would soothe him would be the hushed stories Kakashi would whisper to him about his parents and all their feats. 

 Afterwards, when Naruto had begun to totter around, Kakashi remembers having to keep watch from the window. It worked well up until one day, when the boy had flung open his window in the middle of the night, giggling at the sight of a masked man outside of his bedroom. Naruto tugged and tugged at his arm, whining about wanting to play, until Kakashi had no choice but to climb inside. 

 The openness of his actions had made him worry because surely Naruto was old enough to understand that letting in a stranger was dangerous but, his worry was outweighed by the sheer amount of trust that was offered up to him when Naruto continued to open up his window for Kakashi.

 Unfortunately, all of those nights spent playing with Naruto and his toys came to a screeching halt when the boy turned eight. 

 Naruto  enrolled into the Academy, and Kakashi never bothered coming back to his window. 

 “He was the only person who— he was the only one beside the Sandaime, who used to hold me and play with me and… yeah.” Naruto explains, kicking at the ground, “He never talked, which was weird, but I guess that just made him a better listener.”

 It felt like the Earth had stilled beneath Kakashi’s own two feet.

 Kakashi was the only one to hold Naruto?

 “The only one?”

 All Kakashi gets in terms of a response is a shrug of his shoulders. 

 “Y’know, when I was little,” Naruto reminisces with a small grin, “He used to bring me toys from wherever he had his missions.”

 It was Kakashi’s favourite thing in the whole wide world, seeing little Naruto’s reaction to all of the toys he had brought back for him; a physical reminder that no matter where he went or what he was doing, he was always thinking about Naruto. 

 His smile had been Kakashi’s only motivation when it came to staying alive. 

 Every night, Naruto would sit by his window sill, waiting in anticipation for Kakashi to come back from a mission. The two of them had even created their own special password and as soon as Naruto would hear that quick three-two-three knocking pattern, he would throw open the window for him. 

 A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

 “Hound, he, um, he stopped coming by once I got into the Academy.” Naruto continues.

 The phantom smile on Kakashi’s face vanishes as he fights back a flinch at the reminder of his actions.

 “At first, I thought he was just caught up in a mission but then days became weeks, which became months, and soon a year went by and I realized that he was never going to come back.”

 “Do you miss him?’ Kakashi asks quietly.

 “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty pissed at him,” Naruto explains, clenching both his jaw and his fists, “He just left. He didn’t bother explaining why, and eight year old me just had to deal with it, deal with losing one of the only people in the world who cared about him.”

 Blinking back tears, Kakashi cannot bear looking at Naruto right now, so he averts his gaze to the ground. 

 “I’m sure he had a good reason.” he lies. 

 “Yeah, well, no reason is good enough for me,” Naruto spits back, “So, if you can’t tell me who Hound is, can you at least tell him Naruto is still pissed after all these years?”

 “I will.”

  It seems as though Naruto has given up on his mission to find out who Hound is because weeks pass by without incident and without Naruto popping up to have any more startling conversations about the past. 

 Kakashi is really starting to believe that Naruto has finally learnt the art of letting go, only to be proven extremely wrong when he’s shoved up against a tree. 

 Naruto’s arm is pinning his shoulders against the harsh, splinter-y bark of the tree trunk, while his other arm goes to rest beside Kakashi’s head to maintain balance. 

 He’d commend Naruto on his improved sneak attack skills, if it weren’t for the fact that his precious, signed copy of Icha Icha Tactics is page-first in a pile of dirt. He’s a moment away from yelling some sense into that nonsensical head of Naruto’s when he notices the stream of tears dripping off of his jaw.

 “He’s dead, isn’t he?” he asks, his voice cracking, “I’ve been stalking you for two weeks because I desperately wanted to know Hound was, and you haven’t met up with anyone that could be him.”

 It’s in that moment that he comes to the overwhelming realization that he needs to come clean; it’s either that or let Naruto experience more pain than necessary, and Kakashi will always do anything in his power to prevent the latter.

 But, how do you tell one of the most precious people in your life, that you have deceived them? 

 “Naruto…”

 “That’s the reason he stopped visiting,” Naruto says, gritting his teeth, “It’s because he was dead and no one thought to tell me and now I have to mourn someone I never really knew all because—”

 “It’s me, Naruto,” he blurts out, “I’m Hound.”

 For a minute or two, nothing happens as the anguish on Naruto’s face dissipates. He studies Kakashi’s own face, presumably for any signs of deception or lying. 

 Then, as if a whirlwind erupts from within him, Naruto grabs Kakashi by the collar, hauling him off the tree and throwing him onto the ground. Before Kakashi can scramble to get up, Naruto climbs over his body and wrenches his fist back behind him.

 Within a second, he feels a burst of pressure at his jaw, followed by the unsettling clashing of his teeth in his own mouth. Faintly, he tastes metal and with some poking and prodding, he realizes he’s accidentally bit into his own cheek.

 “You jerk!” Naruto cries as he slams his fists down into Kakashi’s chest, “Why didn’t you tell me! Why did you stop coming around! I used to cry myself to sleep because I thought you finally realized I was a demon!”

 His punches grow weaker and weaker by the second until soon Naruto is collapsing atop of Kakashi, hiding his face in Kakashi’s neck like he used to when the other kids were being especially cruel that day. 

 “Hey, hey, shh,” he murmurs as he strokes the back of Naruto’s head, “ You did nothing wrong, okay?”

 “Well, it felt like it.”

 Kakashi’s chest caves in on itself. 

 Before he can say anything else, an explanation, an apology, anything, the warm weight atop of him is gone. He can only vaguely register Naruto mumbling out a shunshin no jutsu.

 Soon, all he’s left with is a puff of smoke.

  Days keep adding up until it’s been more than a week without Naruto giving Kakashi the time of day, and for once, it’s not because of the lack of trying on Kakashi’s part. In fact, he’s attempted all sorts of plans to get the man to even look at him. 

 He bought enough ramen from Ichiraku’s to last him a lifetime, he tried to entice him with promises of teaching him a new jutsu, he bought him a brand new orange jumpsuit, hell, he even swallowed his pride and tried to enlist Sakura’s help only for her to shake her head while softly telling him this was something he needed to do on his own. 

 It’s a complete mess and one he wishes he weren’t so concerned about cleaning up.

 And he wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for the simple fact of the matter that Kakashi misses Naruto and he misses his company and his stupid ramen and his stupid orange jumpsuits. 

 Sulking as he strolls alongside the bank of the river, Kakashi kicks pebbles into the water while he thinks up various ways to get Naruto to talk to him. 

 Konohamaru could maybe help him out but, then again, he’d probably side with his big brother Naruto on the matter at hand. Perhaps, Sai or Gai could help, they seem level headed enough to come up with ideas that could work. Actually, Sai isn’t well versed in emotions and Gai would just say something about the Springtime of Youth. Tenzou, maybe…

 While deep in thought on what to do, Kakashi doesn’t notice a person walking in front of him, until he barrels right into them. Before the person can fall into the river, Kakashi catches them by the wrists and drags them in close. 

 Looking down, he realizes it's Naruto that he's caught. 

 Once he’s made sure that Naruto is safe from losing his balance, Kakashi takes a step backwards. Awkwardly, he shoves both his hands into his pockets as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

 “Thanks.” Naruto mumbles out, his cheeks burning. 

 For longer than he’d like to admit, Kakashi debates with himself on what he should say to the man in front of him. 

 “Y’know, you have to talk to me some time.” 

 Immediately, Kakashi cringes at the words leaving his mouth. 

 “You stopped talking to me for four years and were going to spend the rest of our lives lying about it.” Naruto accuses, the flush on his cheeks now being a result of anger rather than embarrassment.

 His heart aches at the underlying pain he can hear in Naruto’s voice. Without thinking twice, Kakashi reaches out for Naruto’s arm. 

 “I’m sorry, if you’d let me explain—”

 He’s cut off by Naruto knocking his hand away.

 “I don’t need to know why you left,” Naruto says as he begins to walk away, “My brain can fill in the blanks.”

 “Whatever you think my reasoning was,” Kakashi explains as he follows Naruto, “I promise you, it’s not.”

 All of a sudden, Naruto stops in his tracks, only a few short steps away from reaching the dirt path back to the village. He whips around to glare at Kakashi, his eyes lighting up with fury as he raises an accusatory finger in Kakashi’s direction. 

 “Did you even want to be my sensei?” Naruto questions as he takes a step towards him, “Or were you disappointed when you realized the kid you ditched years ago was your student now?”

 “I wanted to be your sensei.” he says earnestly, but it seems as though Naruto isn’t even listening to him. 

 “Why did you bother coming around if you were just going to leave?” Naruto snarks out as he shoves his finger into Kakashi’s chest, “Was it me? Did I drive you off?”

 “No, just let me—”

 Before he can get another word out, he watches as all of the ire and all of the incendiaries building up inside of Naruto fade away, only to be replaced with a bone-deep sense of weariness that should never be worn on the face of someone so young.

 “You want to know something, Kakashi-sensei?” he asks, not looking for a real answer, “For the longest time, I used to wonder if you ever thought about me, if you saw potential in me or if you just saw me as a roadblock for Sasuke and Sakura’s success. I used to wonder if you even liked me.

 “Now, I know my answer.”

 How could Naruto think that? How could Kakashi let him think that? 

 For a second, it looks like Naruto is about to say something else but then he simply turns around and continues walking in the direction of the village. 

 Remaining where he is, Kakashi stands still as he stares at Naruto’s back. 

 “Minato-sensei and Kushina-san had just died.” he says, the name of his parents causing Naruto to halt, “Rin and Obito had died before that. My parents long before that.”

 Twisting his neck to look over his shoulder, Naruto meets Kakashi’s eyes; a puzzled look on his face

 “But, you were still alive.” he continues, “Up until you were eight, I could keep you safe. You weren’t a shinobi. You didn’t have to take orders from higher up. You didn’t have to go on suicide missions. You were okay.

 “Then, you entered the Academy and suddenly, I couldn’t protect you anymore.” Kakashi croaks out as he scrunches his eyes closed, “I couldn’t face the possibility of losing you so, I left. Like a coward.”

 Naruto doesn’t say anything else so Kakashi assumes that he’s already gone and left but then he feels a pair of arms hook around his shoulders and the telltale tickle of Naruto’s hair against the side of his face. 

 Letting out a ragged breath, Kakashi returns the embrace, fighting back the onslaught of tears in his eyes. 

 “Thank you for taking care of me.” Naruto murmurs into his ear.

 “Thank you for not dying.”

[dazaimency]

Kaeya x AFAB!NB!Reader - Mora for Your Thoughts (18+)

Request: Um can I request a kaeya×AFAB fem non-binary they/them reader bondage, master, spanking, and overstimulation. The reader is a astrologer

Tags: AFAB fem non-binary they/them reader, bondage, master calling, spanking, slight overstimulation, and very slight ice play, astrologer!reader

Word Count: 2.475

NSFW!!

Crossposted from HERE (ao3 collection, mostly BNHA)

Given your powers, you should have at least somewhat expected Kaeya creeping up behind you in the bar while you were sitting on a stool, lost in thoughts. But instead, you jumped out of your seat when a cold hand touched your shoulder, forcing you to turn around.

Once you were face to face with your boyfriend, Kaeya didn’t hesitate to place a quick peck on your cheek before sliding in the seat beside you, ordering his favourite wine. Your lips curled upwards and warmth spread out through your torso when his posture relaxed, clearly at ease in your presence. The smile only deepened when you remembered what you had foreseen a couple of days ago - a fact that Kaeya didn’t miss.

“Something on your mind?” A perfect dark blue eyebrow raises, only enhancing the playful smirk taking place on Kaeya’s face.

Of course he knew. Even though you were the one practicing astrology, Kaeya was familiar with every secret and whisper going on in the streets of Mondstadt.

“Not really,” you tease back, and the conversation stirs in a different direction. As the sky darkens and Charles starts to send drunkyards home, Kaeya’s touches become more intimate, thumb circling your hips, or his hand caressing your thigh and knee. You were well aware how tonight was going to turn out, and you knew Kaeya was too.

You told him who a few of your clients were, and Kaeya being Kaeya, decided to exploit it. He found it amusing when you were anticipating what he had planned for you, with you unable to look into your own future at the same time. So, when he had found out that you had a meeting with an “adult toys seller”, who wanted to ask you about their sales, he went to their store and bought something a couple of weeks after your meeting. He didn’t know for sure if you would foretell it but even if you hadn’t, it would be a win-win situation for him - you’d still be surprised.

“Wanna get out of here?” Kaeya suggests, taking in the sight of your rosy cheeks and lips swollen from your biting. You feel a little jealous when you notice alcohol had little to no effect on him, except letting that spark in his eye to be seen by others instead of being kept private.

You nod, taking his hand into yours and dragging him out of the bar, waving goodbye to Charles. Kaeya managed to place a quick payment with a generous tip before feeling the cold bite his cheeks once he stepped outside.

His fingers intertwine with yours and he guides you to his home. Comfortable quiet resides in the air as you make your way to the front door, only sometimes messing your steps. Your breaths quickens as you approach the entrance and you lick your lips in anticipation.

You turn to Kaeya but before you can open your mouth, he has you pinned against the door, cold wood clashing with your back, making you shiver. Holding you by your hips, he pushes a leg between yours, forcing you to moan into his mouth.

The chilly air mixing with his warm body pressed against yours only makes you get closer to him, enveloping his shoulders with your arms, feeling his lean frame. You slide your leg up, enabling him better access and he smirks into the kiss.

“Impatient, aren't we?” He outright grins and moves lower to your neck, placing pecks and bites on the soft skin, sending jolts of electricity down your spine.

“S-Says the one who got me a sex toy,” you manage to say with rugged breath, slightly shaking from his tongue and teeth nibbling at the crook of your neck.

Kaeya only hums and unlocks the door behind you, smoothly sliding both of you inside while keeping the position.

“What a shame. And I wanted to surprise you,” he clicks his tongue, deep blue eyes scanning your body, revelling in how your smaller frame fits his.

Usually, you'd enjoy this position but you knew what he had prepared for you. Excited to finally see it, you decide to push him: “You should have visited a different store, then.”

“Getting cheeky, hm? Remind me, dear, how do you call me?” you keep yourself from smiling by biting your lips, and you feel your crotch getting wetter with every word that escapes his mouth.

Looking him straight into his eyes, you respond, “You should have visited a different store, Master.”

You push your chin up, expecting him to kiss you or to take down your clothes but instead, he sweeps you off your feet, carrying you to the bedroom with ease. You yelp with surprise, but quickly resign in trying to get down. It wasn't a bad position to be in.

“I ought to punish you. Shame you know what I have planned for you,” the smirk in his voice tells you otherwise. Did you miss something? He acted too smug for having his surprise ruined.

Kaeya sat you down on the bed, ordering you to strip. You quickly obey, soon feeling how soft the sheets feel against your skin. Meanwhile, Kaeya took off his gloves and was waiting in front of you nonchalantly, tapping his foot.

You could see the glint in his eyes when his gaze washed over your naked figure, sly smile embellishing his starry iris. Your stomach clenches in excitement and a shiver runs down your body when he approaches you, hiding something behind him.

“Turn around,” every syllable makes you want him more, the contrast between your naked body and his clothed form only enhancing it. Following his order, you turn onto your stomach, arching your back, silently chuckling when a soft gasp involuntarily escapes him. He moves onto the bed, kneeling at your legs with a perfect view of your pussy that is dripping wet for him. He resists the want to push a finger into you, torturing you with a slow preparation just to feel your walls clench around his digit. Dismissing the thought for later, he sets out to do what he has planned.

“One,” you hear Kaeya say a moment before pain cuts through your skin as a slap lands on your cheeks. He licks his lips when the skin darkens and your body jerks at the sensation. The image of you spread out on his bed, letting him do anything he wants is sent straight to his cock, making it twitch in his tight pants. He was enjoying being in charge, having you completely devoted to him.

Subconsciously, your body leans into his touch. You expected to be punished for being “bratty” but you had the toy he bought in mind, not only spanking. Not that you weren't enjoying it.

As if reading your mind, Kaeya lands another hit. “Two. Mora for your thoughts? Three.”

The stings feel heavier now, and you let out a small moan, missing the smirk on your master's face.

“Are you disappointed? Four. Were you expecting something else, my dear? Five.” You would like to wipe that cunning smirk off his face, were it not for the way each slap made you clench around nothing.

“No, no, Master!” You moan out as another hit lands. This time, the hand stays on your cheeks, brushing quickly against your rim before moving lower to your slit, teasing the sensitive skin. Kaeya's fingers play with the wetness as you hold your breath, hips leaning into the touch, desperately wanting to be filled.

You realise your mistake too late. Lying to the trickster is never a good idea, especially if you are at his mercy. The caresses stop as well as your breaths and you await for further punishment.

A singular harsh slap comes without a warning. The force making a ripple on your skin, painting it a darker shade. Your legs shake when your pussy clenches around nothing and you let out a whine, silently cursing both yourself and Kaeya.

“Oh my, it seems like you deserve something else, doesn't it? Luckily, I came prepared,” this gets your attention and you turn to look at him. He holds a couple of silky ropes - it must be what he had been hiding before.

Your eyes widen as you realise you had been 'played'. He wanted to tie you up all along, setting you up for a fake surprise. A sly smirk graces his features, starry eyes full of smug. Later, you would wipe it off his face, but you were too horny to care about being toyed with in a sense that didn't mean reaching orgasm.

With a slight nudge, he orders you to lay on your back. A question stains his eye, one he doesn't need an answer to, and his length twitches in his pants uncomfortably, still pulsating in the closed space.

You eye the silk, noticing its pleasant texture. Kaeya joins your wrists in a tight knot, connecting it to the headboard. You try to wiggle your hands but the cloth won't let you, effectively leaving you to your boyfriend's mercy and gaze full of lust.

“Now, that's a pretty picture,” Kaeya leans over you and kisses you deeply, his hands drawing circles on your hips. His fingers leave small trails of goosebumps and shivers when he decides to tease you with his vision, brushing ice over your skin as your tongues intertwine. He swallows your every whimper and his hips move in sync with yours as you desperately need to release some tension.

You want to reach out to touch him but the silken bindings keep your hands in place, depriving you of holding onto him. Your fingers dig deeper into the cloth, fists forming and tugging at it as you try to become less flustered.

“What a sight indeed,” Kaeya breaks the kiss and kneels between your bent legs, long fingers slowly finding their way to your pulsing clit. When he finally touches it, you let out a moan and dig your head deeper into the pillow. The slight caress sends waves of pleasure through your body and you envelop your legs around him.

“So wet for your Master already. You would be ready for me if I fucked you right now, wouldn't you?” he hums as if he wasn't just as horny as you. His cock is painfully throbbing in his trousers, creating a wet spot from precum. Kaeya's head is filled with images of him fucking you into the mattress, but right now he wanted to toy with you some more before giving into his needs.

His thumb keeps circling your clit, pressing more with each time you moan out. His digits finally penetrate you, two fingers stretching you out for him. Already, you are a mess and when he enters you a relieved 'Master' escapes your mouth.

With that, Kaeya throws all his plans out of the window. His hand leaves your sensitive clit, making you whimper at the absence of his touch. His pants and underwear soon land on the floor and he's raising your hips to enter you before you can complain about the loss.

You both moan at the same time. Your walls finally clench around him, almost making his hips slam into you but he stays still, giving you a bit of space to adjust. His hands run up and down your body, touching every curve they reach.

Kaeya in front of you is breathtaking. His usually messy hair is even more all around the place, sticking to his skin in some places. Having ditched all his clothes, you can take in his lean frame, fitting perfectly between your legs.

When you are ready, your fingers grip the silk tightly and your legs rest on his shoulder. Kaeya places a quick kiss on your calf and his eyes find yours. As your gazes meet, he starts to move - just a small push to get himself further inside makes you close your eyes. You curse at the restraints keeping you from reaching out and dragging him to a hungry kiss but the feeling of being exposed like this makes your walls clench more.

“Fuck, baby,” he lets out, usual eloquence gone with his last self control as his slams get rougher. Kaeya fully buries himself inside you, brushing against your sensitive spot with each thrust. “You feel so good...”

You can only nod, unable to come up with a verbal response for your master. Seeing pleasure reflected on your face, gaze getting more filled with mist with each thrust, Kaeya speaks up, finding his lost eloquence, forcing you to focus on his smooth voice: “You enjoy being tied up, don't you? Say it, say it for your Master.”

“I-I do, Master. Please… Just don't stop,” you let out between moans, the only thing on your mind right now is Kaeya's cock. Knowing your body well, he knows exactly how to make you moan out the most, and he wasn't holding back tonight.

Satisfied with your answer, his thrusts amp up. He feels your walls clench and stretch around him with each push, and he lets out a few grunts when he senses his orgasm approaching. His fingers start paying attention to your clit again and you whimper loudly when his skilled digits start toying with the oversensitive, pulsing spot.

Jolts of electricity run through your body. Overwhelming sensation ripples through your insides as you finally come, moaning out a mix of Kaeya's name and 'master' when you arch your back.

The new angle allows him to bury himself deeper, hips stuttering at the satisfaction. Seeing you come in front of him with his name on your lips pushes him closer over the edge and after a few rapid thrusts of blindly chasing after that pleasure, he moans '(y/n)' and empties himself inside you.

Once you both catch your breath, he slips out and leans over you, quickly untying you. You hum when he lays down next to you, massaging your numb wrists and kissing the marks left by the bindings. Before you came, you struggled more in its tight grip, making the silk stain your skin with lines that you will have to cover the next couple of days. Not that you were complaining. Plus, Kaeya's chilly kisses were enough to make any discomfort fade away.

When the haze of pleasure leaves both of you with clear minds, you frown, suddenly remembering something: “What happened to the electric toy?”

Kaeya chuckles as if he was expecting the question (he probably was) and kisses your cheek: “Don't worry, we'll try that another time.”

[acnelli]

A Favourite

My entry for Ron’s Chessboard Fest 2021.

Pairing: Ron/Hermione

Rating: T

Summary: Ron discovers a group chat that is discussing just how handsome he actually is.

Thanks to TheUltimateUndesirable for organising the Fest.

This prompt had been submitted by @accio-broom​ who also happened to be the beta for this story. Your help and suggestions are always so much appreciated!

@accio-broom​ got inspired by this post by @headcanonsandmore​. So, thank you for the lovely idea! I wanted to write this ever since I saw this post and prompt 39 fit the bill perfectly.

You can also read this story on AO3 & FFN.

“Where are you guys meeting tonight?” Hermione asked as she and Harry cleared the table while Ron and Ginny set up the cleaning charms. 

“George’s place this time,” Ron answered and swooped up some foam of the soapy dishwater to smear it across Hermione’s cheek. 

Sometime after the war, the Weasley siblings established the tradition to meet up once a month. Just the six of them going out for a pint or simply getting pissed at one of their places. This resulted in another kind of meet up, consisting of the Weasley siblings’ significant others. Tonight, they would play a French card game which Fleur insisted on being a lot of fun. The rest of them simply agreed because most of the time, they ended up just talking and drinking anyway. 

Playfully swatting Ron’s hand away, Hermione cleaned her face with a tea towel, placing it neatly back on the designated hook. Kreacher liked the kitchen to be spotless, and letting them cook for themselves every now and then at all had already been a huge compromise from Kreacher’s side. So, they always made sure to clean up after themselves; otherwise, Kreacher would immediately take over all kitchen duties again. 

Ginny sat down on Harry’s lap when all the plates and cutlery were taken care of and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. She lifted Harry’s left arm to check the time on the gold watch the Weasley’s gifted him years ago. 

“Ron, we should’ve left already.”

“Gin, you know every single Weasley is a notorious latecomer. Except for Percy, maybe. George will probably be not even out of the shower when we arrive,” Ron reasoned as he rummaged through the fridge for the sixpack of Muggle beer he bought to bring to George, “or taking a shite.”

While Ginny and Harry snickered, nodding their heads in agreement, Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes. At some point, she gave up berating Ron about his foul mouth. It was a lost cause, and while she would never admit it out loud, she would definitely miss it if he suddenly stopped cursing. Mainly because over the years, Hermione gathered some exclusive knowledge about what to do for Ron to bring forth a particular choice of swear words.

Ron hardly censored himself, except when Teddy, Victoire and Molly were in the room. Not only would Mrs Weasley twist Ron’s ear off, Hermione definitely drew the line when children were present. She could’ve also lived without the image of George sitting on the toilet. 

They heard the fireplace roar to life, and a few moments later, Audrey came into the kitchen, dressed in grey tracksuit bottoms, white trainers and an oversized blue shirt that sure enough belonged to Percy. Her outfit clashed with the fancy bottle of wine she held in her left hand. 

Hermione looked at Ron, who she had to talk out of wearing his trackies tonight, and into a pair of nicely fitting jeans instead, along with one of his old Cannon shirts. He lifted an eyebrow at her when he saw Audrey’s casual clothes, but Hermione ignored it. 

Audrey sat down with a heavy sigh. “I knew I’m too early. Why am I dating someone so over-punctual?”

“You’re not because Gin and I are leaving now.” Ron laughed as he gave Audrey a quick hug before kissing Hermione and wishing them a fun night. “Don’t do what I wouldn’t do.”

“I think we’re fine then,” Harry commented from behind Ron, where Ginny gave him a peck on the cheek before heading out of the kitchen. 

As Ron turned around, Hermione pinched his arse, not ashamed to cop a feel as she gave him an innocent smile, and he rewarded her with his trademark lopsided grin. “Is this why you wanted me to wear these tight jeans? So, you could properly feel me up?” He asked as he leaned down to give Hermione another kiss.

“ROOON!” Ginny cried from the living room before he could properly snog his girlfriend again. He sighed and gave her a quick peck on the mouth instead.

“Actually, I wanted you to wear them so I can ogle you from behind.” She whispered before he went out of earshot. Ron didn’t turn around, but he gave his hips an extra swing before vanishing out of the kitchen. 

“God, that was gross,” Audrey commented but winked at Hermione anyway, “How can you stand that every day, Harry?” 

Harry was just about to give her an answer when they heard several people arriving via floo, and he settled for just rolling his eyes instead. 

Accompanied by a cloud of some very nice smelling perfume, Fleur glided into the kitchen and right behind her appeared a tall, blonde man Hermione and Harry never met before. This had to be Charlie’s new boyfriend. Ron and Ginny met him last Sunday over at the Burrow when both Harry and Hermione stayed at home since they still had been recovering from a rather nasty case of the flu. 

Fleur took Finn –as he introduced himself in a thick Swedish accent– directly with her from the Burrow where she put Victoire to bed and where Molly and Arthur happily watched over their first grandchild. Harry was secretly happy to finally have another guy in their round again. Not that he minded the company of Hermione, Fleur, Angelina and Audrey. Actually, he always enjoyed their monthly gatherings, but it was nice to not be the only rooster in the yard.

“I’m here, I’m here! I just wanted to stop by the store to grab some more Butterbeer.” Angelina said and put the bottles on the kitchen table. As always, they had a good variety of booze to choose from; Angelina’s Butterbeer, wine from both Fleur and Audrey, the Firewhiskey Harry bought yesterday, and some Cider Hermione picked up from her way home from work. It was way too much already, of course, but that didn’t stop Kreacher from making so much elf wine that they’ll probably never had to buy alcohol ever again. 

As Hermione and Harry added some glasses and snacks, Audrey observed the table with a huge smile on her face. She clapped her hands in childish glee, grabbed a bottle of wine and started to fill Hermione’s wine glass. 

“Fleur, explain that card game to us.”

 *****

Ron was annoyed. 

Because his dear brother was utter rubbish at calculating what would be the appropriate amount of booze for six people, they ran out of beer and whiskey after not even two hours. Due to his bad luck at rock paper scissors, he ended up going back to Grimmauld Place to get them some more beer and one or two bottles of Kreacher’s wine.

The moment he walked through the fireplace, loud shrieks and booming laughter sounded over from the kitchen. Ron planned to just quickly walk into the kitchen, taking what they needed out of the fridge and go back to George’s place. He stopped in his tracks as the conversation filtered through to the living room because he didn’t want his presence to be known just yet.  

“…okay, okay, Hermione. Don’t look at me like that. I complimented your choice in men. Ron is a stilig karl.” Finn said, his booming voice carrying easily over to the living room. Ron didn’t know what stilig karl meant, but from what context he was able to overhear, Finn might’ve just said something nice about him. 

As silently as possible, he stepped out into the hallway where he could hear the conversation better but would remain undetected by the occupants of the kitchen. 

“I personally like his jawline, especially when he lets it go stubbly. It’s…,” Audrey snipped her fingers, “very tempting to touch sometimes. Remember Sunday afternoon after lunch? I kind of had to restrict myself from starring at his jaw when he listened to the Cannons game on the radio. Such determination.”

Ron was sure he was glowing in the dark as he felt the blush creeping up his neck, his face no doubt looking like a tomato. He expected many things, but he certainly didn’t expect to run into this kind of conversation. 

“What does Percy have to say about you lusting over his brother?” Hermione asked, and Ron had to stop himself from bursting out into a laugh because he could practically see her narrowing her eyes. 

“Oh, Hermione, don’t be such a prude. There is nothing wrong with admiring somebody else than your own partner. It eez only natural.”

Ron could not hear Hermione clear enough, but he thought he could hear her muttering something like ‘I’m not a prude.’ 

“Does somebody else has a favourite part of Ron they want to elaborate on? Or can we finally start the next round of cards?” Again, the red-head tried his hardest not to laugh when everyone just ignored Hermione’s sarcasm and, indeed, continued elaborating on the topic.

“His arse!” Angelina offered. From the way she was dragging the ‘s’ a little, he could tell she was already slightly tipsy. “Ron has a very nice bum. Do you guys train your arses in these weekly training sessions at work, Harry?”

Of course, this brought forth another wave of hysterical laughter, which only intensified when Finn told Harry to keep him in mind for these arse workouts. “Maybe I’ll learn something.”

When Angelina recovered from her giggling fit, she declared to Harry she too wants to sign up for that training then added, “But Ron had a nice arse before Auror training anyway.”

“And when did you notice that may I ask?”

“Hermione, it’s almost impossible to play Quidditch and not have a nice arse. Sitting on a broom for hours is no picnic for those muscles,” Angelina answered, unfazed by Hermione’s haughty undertone while Audrey let out something between a snort and laugh, resulting in a rather violent coughing fit. 

“Don’t you agree, Hermione?” Angie asked innocently as she clapped the still coughing Audrey on the back. 

All the ruckus must have summoned Crooshanks because the ginger cat ran towards Ron. He quickly picked him up and started to scratch him behind the ear, successfully stopping him from running inside the kitchen and surely disrupting the conversation inside. And a shame this would be, considering Ron really wanted to hear his girlfriend’s answer.

“I certainly agree,” Hermione said calmly, “Ron hated his hand-me-down jeans, but I always had been very fond of them. Especially, their tendency to hug him in all the right places.”

So much for these new tight jeans, she talked him into buying, Ron thought, not being able to stop the huge grin splitting his face. Running into this conversation certainly was a pleasant coincidence. 

Apparently, the others didn’t expect Hermione to answer so smoothly because a chorus of approving whistles startled Crookshanks, and Ron almost dropped him when the cat clawed at his arm. 

“So, you guys are mostly fond of his arse,” Finn mused, taking a quick swig of his beer, “which is understandable but did you ever notice his shoulders? Ron has the best kind of build; slim waist and broad shoulders without looking burly. Please don’t tell Charlie I said that.”

“Tall and handsome, just like my Bill,” Fleur agreed, Hermione giving an annoyed groan that did nothing to stop the French witch from elaborating, “but I say, Ron’s arms and hands are ze best thing about him. Of course, I hate he got zis scars in ze first place, but I think zey accentuate his arms and big hands rather nicely.”

“Well, Fleur. That surprises no one, I think.” Harry said, joining the conversation for the first time since Ron listened in. 

“Don’t even encourage this, Harry,” Hermione whined, “How could find it not weird we lust over your best friend?” 

Ron knew full well that Harry would tease Hermione, and probably him too, forever about this, so Harry’s next words weren’t too surprising. 

“Well, actually…if I would play for the other team,” Harry obviously made a point to make a meaningful pause here, and Ron really, really wished he could see Hermione’s face right now, “…I mean, if we approach this in a logical manner…I have a thing for red-heads after all.”

The next outburst of laughter, surely about Hermione’s expression, sent Crookshanks in a frenzy for real now, and the bloody cat let out a loud wail and wriggled out of Ron’s arms, scratching the side of Ron’s neck before jumping down over his shoulder. 

If not for Crookshanks loud entrance into the kitchen (why he would bolt towards the noise that scared him was beyond Ron’s understanding), Ron’s colourful cursing tipped off the others about his presence. 

Well aware he had been caught, Ron followed Hermione’s cat into the kitchen, red-eared and shyly waving at everyone. “Hello…”

Before he could offer some kind of explanation, a furiously blushing Hermione jumped up from her seat, bolted towards Ron and without another word, took his hand and dragged him off towards the stairs. “Make sure to take good care of this new scratch on his neck, Hermione!” Audrey shouted after them, accompanied by the other’s laughter. 

With a loud bang, their bedroom door shut, and Hermione immediately pressed Ron against it, showering him with kisses and roaming hands. Slightly puzzled but equally enthusiastic, Ron took Hermione’s face into his hands, deepening the kiss and enjoying the feeling of her body pressed up against his. As they finally came up for air, Hermione nudged him towards their bed, but Ron didn’t move from his place by the door. 

“Hermione, you know they just said that to take the mickey, right?” Ron grinned at her and gave her a wink, “Riling you up is apparently not just my favourite past time.”

“You think they only said that to rile me up?” Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow as she took his hand and resumed her mission to get him into the direction of the bed. “

This time he complied, Hermione lying down onto the soft mattress and tugging on Ron’s belt, making him fall right on top of her. “Of course, you would think that,” Hermione whispered. 

“Think what?”

“That the others just said that to rile me up.” Hermione answered, her hands slowly roaming up and down Ron’s back, “I don’t get possessive over nothing, you know.”

“If…you…say…so,” Ron murmured between the kisses he placed on her neck. He paused his trail towards that special place behind Hermione’s ear to look at her with an awfully smug smile. “I did not plan to wear them again, but I’ll gladly dig those old jeans out of the wardrobe. You know, for the sake of making you happy…and also probably Angelina.”

“Shut up and charm the door!” she said as Hermione let her hands wander over his jeans-clad arse, silently marvelling about its firmness. 

As her hands and mouth wandered over his shoulders, his arms and his scars, and as his hands cupped her face and his blue eyes looked down at her with an expression that always spoke directly to her heart, she decided that every part of Ron was her favourite part.  

[king-finnigan]

Ok I LOVED the last Soulmate AU you wrote with the flowers so why not mash up: Situation 11. Soulmates and 22. Jealous, with sentence 10 - “No, I love you too much to let you walk away like this.” beCAUSE ANGST and UNCONDITIONAL LOVE agh forgive my cheesyness

Okay so I tried to do this one with the flowers, but that didn’t work out so change of plans! Different soulmate AU, I guess. 

(Also there’s nothing to forgive. I, too, am cheesy)

***

Jaskier can’t wait for the day he gets to see all the colours at once. Don’t get him wrong, he’s already very happy with the ones he’s provided, and it’s fun to watch whatever colour he’s seeing shift into another one as his soulmate’s mood changes. Though, in all honesty, he’s always been a bit worried about his soulmate. The colours he’s seen the most are grey, blue, red, and orange. Hell, according to his parents and friends, his entire wardrobe consists of just those colours, because he hates wearing a doublet in a colour he can’t see, or one that might clash horribly with the rest of his outfit because his soulmate hadn’t been feeling happy that morning, so Jaskier couldn’t see that the doublet was yellow.

Grey, red, blue, orange. Boredom, anger, sadness, pain. Those are the four colours he’s seen most his entire life, those are the four things his soulmate is feeling, most of the time. It worries Jaskier. There are a lot of colours he has never seen before, as well, which, according to literally everyone around him, is a bit weird.

He’s never seen pink - love. He’s never seen green - jealousy. (They always say the grass is greener on the other side, but for Jaskier, it’s grey all the same.) He rarely ever sees yellow - happiness. He thought he might have once seen purple - pride - but he’s not entirely sure. He’s never seen brown - comfort - before, either.

Jaskier loves colours. He would love to see them all one day, when he finally gets to kiss his soulmate. 

And then he meets Geralt of Rivia. And he supposes his soulmate might be seeing a lot of pink, lately. He, himself, has started to see colours other than grey, red, blue, and orange.

One time, he was singing while walking along the road, Geralt on Roach a few paces behind him. It was nothing special, just a little tune about the knight who fell in love with the prince. But it became a song he would never forget for the rest of his life, when he looked to the side, at the fields stretching out around them, and saw pink flowers.

There was also that one time he was washing guts out of Geralt’s hair, while the Witcher told him about his latest hunt. Not in great detail, of course, because Geralt never does that, but a little bit more extensive than he usually does, his lips made looser by Jaskier’s fingers in his hair. The bard had smiled at the back of Geralt’s head, had told him he thought the Witcher was a true hero for risking his life for all those ungrateful people and a handful of measly coins, and that Geralt deserved better than that. When he had turned around, he had noticed that the bottle of lavender shampoo was purple.

Then there was that one time they were sitting in a tavern together, while Jaskier was composing a new song in his notebook, and the Witcher was just drinking ale. He had looked up to ask Geralt something, and had seen that the Witcher’s eyes were yellow.

A few weeks ago, he was sitting by the fire, leaning against Geralt’s shoulder, trying to ward off the cold with the Witcher’s body heat, when he noticed that the logs under the fire were brown. He had looked up, gazing around the forest, and by the gods, he had never known there were so many things in the world that were brown - the colour warm and comfortable and rich. He had decided, then, that it was his favourite colour.

Now, though, he doesn’t see a lot of colours. Now, he’s seeing grey and only the lightest shades of blue and red, as he talks with the woman in front of him. She smiles softly, looking at him through her lashes, before inviting him to her room, later. He smiles, happy to accept, when he blinks, and suddenly sees her eyes are... He doesn’t recognize this colour, but given that people can only have blue, green, brown, grey, and sometimes yellow (Geralt) eyes, he figures this new colour must be green.

Jealousy. Huh. He must’ve had a weird look on his face, because suddenly the girl looks a bit insecure. “If you don’t want to, I understand,” she mutters.

She’s right, though. He no longer wants this, too taken aback at the sudden green to get into the right mindset. He nods at her. “I’m sorry, my fair lady, you deserve better than me and more. I bid you goodnight.”

He turns around, stalking through the small crowd in the tavern, making his way into the late afternoon. He stills, for a second, as his eyes take in the sight. He thought brown was everywhere, but green is even more present, he can now see. The leaves on the trees are green. The grass is green. There are people wearing green clothes. The shrubbery is green, and so is every single plant he can lay his eyes on. It’s honestly incredible.

The door to the tavern opens, and he turns around, meeting eyes with Geralt. “You alright, bard?” the Witcher asks, and Jaskier nods, turning back to the scenery in front of him, the green slowly fading from his vision. He sees pink flowers, in the grass just outside the tavern.

“Yeah, it’s just... I just saw green for the first time.”

“Hmm.” 

He smiles, turning around again. “You don’t have to be so dismissive, not everyone has seen every colour yet. I do wonder what my soulmate was so jealous about, though.” He shrugs, letting his eyes go unfocused, as he thinks. “Maybe that I was talking to that lady. Or maybe not, because that would imply my soulmate was there, just now. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Sure, a very odd coincidence, but still.”

He focuses his eyes again, and looks at Geralt, who appears slightly shocked. Suddenly, he notices Geralt’s hair is white. Of course, he already knew that, since he sees most of the world in black and white, but right now, the colour seems so much brighter than he’s ever seen before, almost hurting his eyes with the intensity of it.

He shakes the thought off, and focuses on Geralt again. “What do you think?”

The Witcher turns around and goes back into the inn, slamming the door shut behind him. Jaskier frowns. Strange. He follows Geralt inside. The flames atop the candles are orange. He knocks on the door to their shared room tentatively, opens it when he gets no answer. Inside, he finds Geralt packing his bags.

Jaskier frowns. “Where are we going?”

“We aren’t going anywhere. I’m going.”

He nearly chokes on the sudden rush of panic that floods through him, and Geralt stops for a split second, before continuing to gather his stuff. “You’re leaving me?” He’s barely able to raise his voice above a whisper around the heaviness of the words.

“Hmm.”

He feels tears gather in his eyes, stabbing pain spreading across his chest. “I- I need to know why. If you’re going without me, I need to know why, Geralt, please.”

Geralt sighs, stands upright, his bag over his shoulder. “I-” He sighs again, looks at the fire in the hearth. “I can see that the flames are orange.” He looks back at Jaskier. “I can see that your doublet is blue.” Pain. Sadness.

The exact two things Jaskier is feeling right now. But also the exact two things he’s seeing right now, as well.

“Geralt, are you... are you saying that- that you’re my soulmate?”

“Maybe. I just... If I am...” He sighs again, walks towards the door. “I’m not good for you. I can’t be the soulmate you need.”

Jaskier takes a step to the side, blocking the Witcher’s path. “No, don’t you dare go, Geralt of Rivia. I love you too much to let you walk away like this.”

Geralt sighs. “Get out of my way, Jaskier.” Red joins the orange of the flames. “You don’t love me.”

“Really? You of all people should know that I do, since you’re the one who sees pink every time I look at you.”

Geralt sighs again, looks away, and the red fades from Jaskier’s vision. 

“Geralt,” he whispers, “I have loved you from the minute I laid eyes on you. I don’t even care if you’re right, I don’t care if we’re soulmates or not, because, for me, it’s always been you. It will always be you.”

The Witcher looks at him, and Jaskier can see the slight rosiness of his skin. 

“Please tell me you feel the same way,” he whispers.

“I feel the same way,” Geralt whispers back, before pressing their lips together. It’s chaste and soft and so incredibly sweet it makes his heart hurt, yet steals his breath away, leaving him gasping for air when he pulls back.

His heart stops when he opens his eyes, the world around him exploding in an array of colours, so many at once it makes his head spin, and he closes his eyes again, leaning his forehead against Geralt’s chest, the Witcher’s arms closing around him.

After a few seconds, he slowly pries his eyes open, bit by bit, letting them get accustomed to all those bright colours that fill the world around him. He leans back, looking at Geralt. The Witcher’s eyes are yellow, his skin is a soft pink, his hair is stark white, and he’s framed by the comfortable brown of the wooden planks of the walls. 

Geralt brings his hand up, softly dragging his fingertips over the skin under Jaskier’s right eye. “Your eyes are blue,” Geralt whispers.

Jaskier smiles. “You didn’t know?”

The Witcher shakes his head. “No, I haven’t seen blue since... since we met.”

“Because you make me happy.”

“You make me happy, too.”

Jaskier grins. “I know. I’ve been seeing a lot more yellow, lately.” He sighs, intertwines their fingers. “Please don’t go. I don’t think I could bear a world filled with colour but devoid of you. Please, don’t leave me behind.”

Geralt smiles softly, pressing a kiss to each of Jaskier’s knuckles. “I won’t. I promise you I won’t.” He kisses Jaskier again, this time a bit deeper, and colours explode behind his eyelids.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

“don’t do that. don’t shut me out.” + Jupeter

I wrote this for @spiky-lesbian because she’s had a rough week so here’s some angst babe, go figure 

----------

“I’m getting too old for this.”

Juno was pretty sure PIs were supposed to think that sort of thing when they were doing something cool and dangerous, like leaping the gap between the cars of a moving train or ducking behind crates at a harbour to avoid laser fire.

Rather than crawling on their stomachs to get their pet sewer rabbit’s favourite ball out from behind the sofa. But hey, it was his day off.

Then again, Small Fry did look delighted when he straightened back up with a loud groan and the cracking of some vertebrae, whiffling her nose and hopping excitedly, shaking the floorboards of their little apartment. Smiling fondly, Juno threw the ball off down the hallway so she could chase it, squeaking happily.

“Next time that happens I’m not getting it out for you! You can go make goo goo eyes at your daddy for a change,” he called after her, brushing dust from his curls and his shirt. But the smile didn’t fade from his face, even after she had rounded the corner to go and cause mischief somewhere else. Anyone who said keeping a massive sewer rabbit in a modest Hyperion apartment was a bad idea was just too afraid of cleaning up the occasional broken lamp or gnaw marks on the walls.

He was about to straighten back up and go back to the book he’d been reading, he got so little time to do things like that these days but his husband was still at work, the boys were asleep and Bianca was happily playing in her room, giving him a rare hour or two to himself that he didn’t want to waste. He was mildly tempted to crack the lock on the drawer where Nureyev stowed away any case files he brought home so he couldn’t continue working himself ragged outside of his own office but, contrary to the size of the lock and the dedication with which his husband hid the key, he really was getting better at giving himself time off.

After all, it had been a hell of a long time since work was the only thing he had to keep him going.

He was about to do that when something else behind the sofa caught his eye, something that wasn’t just a toy of Bee Bee’s that she’d forgotten or one of Small Fry’s hordes of left socks that she liked to build nests out of. He was about to sigh and mutter something about the wonders of having three kids being that you’d find trash in the weirdest places but something wary ran its way down his spine. Something that was maybe instinct, maybe his detective brain putting pieces together and proving yet again that the years spent theoretically on the other side of law and order hadn’t dampened his skills.

Whatever it was, it made him reach out, once again feeling the twinge in the base of his spine, using his hip to nudge the couch further out so he could snag it and bring it out.

It was a small bag, something designed to be inconspicuously held at the waist or over the shoulder, dark in colour so it wouldn’t catch the eye. Juno frowned, the wariness growing stronger as he sat on the couch and opened it up.

He recognised the precision and fastidiousness immediately, like it was rolling off it in waves like too much perfume. It was in the way everything was crammed in so tight there wasn’t a spare inch of space, everything chosen for its shape and size so it would go in seamlessly like a game of tetris. It was in the items themselves, every possible scenario accounted for; dried rations, iodine pills to purify water, vouchers for shuttle tickets that would take you anywhere in the galaxy, tightly rolled stacks of genuine honest to god Earth currency to take you even further than that, no questions asked, clothes folded so tightly they looked like napkins at first. And, in an even more closely concealed pocket on the inside seam, fake documents, fake IDs, fake cards loaded up with fake creds.

And a knife. If Juno had been entertaining any doubts, any lingering threads of uncertainty, then seeing his tired reflection in that razor edge snipped them neatly away.

He sighed, long and low, filing through the emotions rising in his chest, sending away any that he knew weren’t helpful or were just offshoots of his anxiety, counting backwards from ten like Buddy had shown him until all the messiness sorted itself out.

He didn’t pick his book back up. He watched the clock and waited for his husband to come home.

Nureyev really enjoyed working at the salon. He kept waiting, expecting to get bored or frustrated with it all, but it hadn’t happened yet. He just laughed at the conversations with his colleagues more and more, got more familiar with the smell of hairspray on his clothes and felt a small spark of pride at the ache in his ankles at the end of a long day.

It was enough to make him feel something approaching hope.

He slid off his shoes, not wanting to track any dust from outside into the apartment. Living on Mars had meant needing to get used to the fine red silt clinging to his soles every day and turning up in the most inconvenient places, no matter how careful he tried to be. Juno, the Aurinkos and Rita barely even seemed to notice it. Nureyev assumed that came from growing up with the stuff.

The apartment was surprisingly quiet, enough that he was already getting ideas before he walked into the living room and saw his wife sitting on the sofa.

“What exactly have you done with our children, my love?” he grinned, “Bought us some alone time?”

Juno started a little at his voice, even though he should have heard him come in, the door closing, his keys rattling into the bowl. And when his eye lifted and met Nureyev’s, it was immediately clear that his ideas had been far off the mark.

“Yeah, Rita has them,” Juno’s voice was even, not full of scowls and snarls as usual, not in any way a ‘we’re in serious trouble’ voice but Nureyev’s veins still flooded with adrenaline as he rooted to the spot, a discordant clashing in his ears, “I did want to have some time with just you and me.”

“And yet you’re still dressed?” Nureyev was a little impressed with himself, how his tone came out still perfectly light and joking, like he wasn’t completely gripped by panic and his brain wasn’t scribbling blue prints behind his eyes.

It would seem hairdressing hadn’t lost him all of his skills.

“Babe, listen,” Juno sat forward, eye gentle, “Just come and sit with me, okay? Nothing’s wrong, nothing bad has happened or anything like that. I just want to talk.”

Nureyev frowned. Maybe he had lost his skills a little. Or maybe they’d just never worked on Juno.

But he did sit, stiffly, still braced for something awful in spite of his wife’s reassurance. And when Juno wordlessly produced one of his getaway bags and set it on the coffee table between them, he was ready to run.

But Juno didn’t let the moment build, he didn’t keep him hanging. He simply sighed and reached across the gap between them to take his hand.

“Peter, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Nureyev looked up, certain he must have misheard.

But Juno’s expression was firmly set in penance, mouth turned down, brow fallen across his eye which was soft and sad, “I never once asked you if you were struggling to adjust to the way our lives are now. I never thought to check in with you. I let you down in that and I’m sorry.”

“I...what?” Nureyev was well aware he was falling short of his usual articulation but no more words were coming in to fill the blank gap in his mind, “You’re not...you’re not upset with me?”

Juno frowned a little, shaking his head, “No. No, why would I be?”

“Because…” Laughter, of all things, raw edged and disbelieving bubbled up in his chest, “Because the only thing to take from this is that I’m insane or I was going to leave you?”

“Are either of those things why you’ve got these bags?” Juno asked evenly.

Nureyev winced, “You found the others?”

“No but I know you enough to assume.”

Nureyev took a shaky breath, “I’m not leaving you. And...and I don’t know whether I’m insane or not, honestly.”

The sadness in Juno's eye deepened and he squeezed his husband’s hand, “I don’t think you are but we need to talk about this. What exactly were you trying to prepare for with these?”

“I...I don’t know…” Nureyev didn’t like this one bit, this reversal of their usual roles, Juno being so calm and collected and even while he sat here struggling to leash his emotions, “Nothing! I...I wasn’t…”

Juno exhaled, something cracking through his calm, “Don’t do that. Nureyev, please, don’t shut me out. That’s the one thing I need you not to do right now.”

Nureyev felt his throat close and he couldn’t have said anything if his life depended on it. He didn’t want to shut his wife out, he really didn’t, but it was so hard to unlearn something that had been your first line of defence since childhood.

But if there was anyone who understood that, it was Juno.

“Listen, Nureyev, there’s no answer you can give me that will make me angry with you or upset me. I just want you to feel safe here with me and with the kids and...finding this, it’s just made me worry that you don’t?”

Nureyev forced his lungs to pull in air and turn it into words, determined to not be the man who had shut Juno out for years, the man who had packed those bags.

“I do feel safe here, I am happy here,” he promised, feeling the truth of it and drawing strength from that, “It’s just been so long since I stayed in one place, since...since I could feel safe. And sometimes it feels like another cover I’m wearing for a little while, like something’s going to change and I’ll have to run again. And I guess I just wanted to prepare for that, even if it isn’t what I want. Even if I’m praying it never happens, I just can’t let myself be unprepared. It’s not how I was raised. And having those bags...I can breathe a little easier. I can settle into this more because even if the absolute worst thing happens, I’ll survive.”

Juno nodded slowly, eye never leaving his husband’s face, “Nureyev, we both knew this was going to be a change. And change is hard, even if it’s for the better. And if this helps you settle down, I’m fine with that.”

“But I’m not,” Nureyev croaked, wanting to wipe his eyes so the tears there didn’t fall but also not wanting to let go of Juno’s hand, “I don’t want to live my life like it’s not mine. This isn’t a cover, it’s my family and my home and I want to feel like that.”

Juno squeezed his fingers, “This is yours, Nureyev. I’m your wife and they’re our kids and this is our home. No one is taking any of this from us, I promise. And if you need me to remind you of that, I will, every single damn day for the rest of our lives if that's what you need. And it fucking sucks that everything you’ve lived up until now is telling you different.”

“Yeah,” Nureyev mumbled, the tears falling and dripping off his nose now but they hit Juno’s hands before his own and he didn’t flinch, “It does.”

“Come here…” Juno murmured, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around him as their bodies fit themselves together, “You can cry, it’s okay.”

Nureyev did. Because he believed Juno when he told him it was.

They spent the rest of their rare evening alone pulling out all of the getaway bags Nureyev had stowed over the first week of their retirement from the Carte Blanche, all of the stockpiles of food as well, everything he’d hidden underneath their new life with Mag’s voice and the voice of a hungry child guiding his hands. They didn’t get rid of it, he wasn’t ready for that yet, but it went into a box under their bed instead.

And Juno still told him he was proud of him.

Nureyev thought there was always going to be that part of him that had Mag’s rules in it’s mind and a constant hunger in its belly. All he could ever do was fold it up as small as he could make it and find space for it in the back of his brain.

But with Juno’s arm around him and red dust on the soles of his shoes, that felt easier than it ever had before.

[aarcanechaoss]

Grown Up

Sakusa and Tatsu: smut // Tatsu wasn’t feeling like herself and Sakusa taking care of her might be just what she needed

Tatsu didn’t feel like an adult. She still very much felt like she was that eighteen year old at Karasuno keeping an eye on her sixteen year old brother. Now she’s twenty-four while he’s twenty-two.

Some days she forgot that in some regards she was a famous figure skater- next to Yuuri Katsuki in Japan at least.

Some days she wanted to lay in bed and never get up.

Some days she’d cry and shake and no one would be around to see it or hear about it. The only people who did know was her family.

She hated being a grown up it was tiring and straining mentally, emotionally and physically.

It was a fairly standard day she’d promised to hang out with Hinata at the MSBY dorms but she didn’t want to get up. Her eyes and chest felt heavy and the realisation that she needed to get up had her in tears. With a sigh she had gotten up and dressed just jeans and a t shirt and was now in front of their dorm. She knocked. For a moment she caught her reflection and grimaced... maybe she should have put on makeup today.

“Tatsu!” Hinata called throwing open the door. She jumped. “Sorry for startling you come in.”

“You have so much energy Shoyo Hinata.” She yawned.

“Ah yes I get told that a lot.” He said with a blush.

“Oh hey Tatsu.” Adriah smiles.

“Morning Adriah how are you?”

“I’m good. You? You seem tired got a comp coming up?”

“Uh yeah.” She lied. “Just over practiced yesterday.”

“If you were tired you didn’t have to come.” Hinata pouted. “Kenma is busy today and I knew you had the day off I should have let you have a break.”

“No Sho it’s fine.” She laughed. “I practice hard all the time plus I wanna hang with my favourite short person.”

“Hey! Just because you Kageyama’s are tall-“

“TATSU!” Bokuto yelled lifting the woman and spinning her around. She laughed and hugged him back.

“Hey Kotaro.”

“Tatsu.” Sakusa greeted as he spotted her. He was dressed in sweats and a long sleeved shirt. On a normal day her eyes would probably cling to their attractive forms her confidence feeling faded today. She smiled.

“Hi Omi.” She said softly. His eyes were expressive with her, she could see the worry in his eyes. “So Sho what’s on the agenda?”

“Movie?”

“Horror?”

“Of course.”

“Why couldn’t you have been my brother?” She sighs. Tobio preferred comedies much to the surprise of many and maybe a stray romance or sci-fi film.

“Conjuring okay?” Hinata asked. “It’s got subtitles and I actually haven’t seen it yet.”

“Sounds good to me.” Tatsu said. Sakusa and Bokuto agreed as they decided to join the usually hyper duo.

Her joking was weaker than usual. Even Bokuto noticed. She liked to make fun of movies even if it was a favourite movie- Sakusa was sat beside her watching the way her fingers twitched and jaw tightened whenever the screen got dark. Something was up. She took in a shaky breath as the second film finished.

“Just gonna go to the bathroom. Omi is it alright if I use yours?”

“It’s fine.”

“Don’t wait up for me.” She said before disappearing down the hall to the germaphobes private bathroom.

Ten minutes passed and she hadn’t returned.

Ten turned to fifteen.

Fifteen turned to twenty.

“Should we check on her?” Hinata asked. Bokuto nodded.

“I’ll go. You keep watching movies if she’s not well I’ll... take her home or something.” He said with a shiver just thinking about her potentially being sick. His brows furrowed she didn’t look sick, tired but not unwell... maybe even a little sad.

He knocked on the door his ear close to the wood. Shaky breaths could be heard.

“Tatsu.”

“Sorry Sakusa um... cramps?”

“Nice try but Atsumu was complaining ltwo weeks ago about you having your period.” He sighed. “Open the door.”

“It’s not locked.” He heard. He opened the door slowly to see the normally confident woman sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest. He crouched.

“Let’s go to my room sitting on the cold floor could get you sick.” He said helping her up.

Guiding her to his room he made sure to lock the door behind him so Bokuto and Hinata wouldn’t barge in. He sends them a quick text he says she’s feeling sleepy and will be having a nap in his room and to not disturb her.

“I told them you wanted to take a nap.”

“Cool.”

“Alright what’s going on?” He asked awkwardly.

“Do you like me?”

“What?”

“I mean as a person not as in a crush way.”

“Yes I like you. I wouldn’t have let you you know if I didn’t like or trust you.”

“Why though? Some days I look in the mirror and see that psycho eighteen year old who hadn’t a problem getting into a fight. Sometimes I see someone worth nothing and sometimes I see someone who is just okay. I’m a confident person every knows that... but some days I’m not.”

“And today is one of those days?” She nods. Slowly he places his arms around her pulling her into a hug. They were just standing there quietly. “Do you want me to do anything?”

“I don’t know. A distraction sounds good.”

“What kind of distraction do you have in mind?” He looked down slightly while she looked up. “You are vulnerable now I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Your voice got so soft Kiyoomi.” She said tugging at his mask. “It doesn’t have to go far if you... don’t think.”

“I’ll go as far as you are comfortable to.”

His mask was pulled away.

“I promised you a kiss next time right?”

“Ta-“ her mouth pressed against his. His hands found purchase on her waist while hers were on his. She pressed him to the wall.

Her lips were soft and plump, he swallowed back the urge to nip at them. His fingers teased the skin where her shirt had moved making goosebumps appear. Nimble fingers rested in his curly hair tugging him closer to her lips. He pulled away watching as she tried to chase his lips.

“Tatsu.” He said firmly. She pouted her bottom lip jutting out. “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“You won’t be it’s consented.”

“You’re upset.”

“No I’m not.”

“Are you sure?” She huffed peeling herself from his body and walking towards his bed. “Answer me.”

“I’m not upset.” She says again. “I just... Omi why is it so hard to find someone to love?”

Sakusa blinked.

“Am I just that quick fuck? Why can’t I let myself settle down? I don’t get it. I’m not upset just lonely.”

He stood their quietly with his brows furrowed. She wasn’t looking at him but she knew he didn’t know what to say. With a sigh she began to remove her jeans making blood flush both to his cheeks and down below.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a nap.”

“Without pants?” He asked with a raised brow.

“Would you nap in jeans?” She said with a scoff before skilfully removing her bra without taking off her shirt too. Crawling into his bed his eyes were drawn to her bare thighs creamy and toned from years on the ice. His eye twitched as he felt himself grow hard.

“Christ woman.” He muttered forcing Tatsu onto her back. His lips found hers again as he settled between her thighs his hips connecting to hers albeit blocked by sweats and underwear. Her legs wrapped around his waist holding him close to her. One of his hands trailed her body thumbs teasing the smooth skin of her thighs. She moaned agaisnt his lips tongue teasing agaisnt the seam.

Their teeth clashed, tongues battled. She forced him to flip over so she was above him.

Without breaking the kiss his back was agaisnt the wall and she was in his lap. Her chest pressed against his, he could feel the soft swells. He could feel her heat grinding agaisnt him.

They pulled apart for a moment before their lips connected again messily. Her hips bucked agaisnt his the seam of his sweats creating a friction in just the right spot. She moaned into his mouth while he kneeded the flesh of her ass.

“Can I?” She asks, her fingers dipping beneath the band of his sweatpants.

“Are you sure?” He asked. Honestly he didn’t want to cum in his pants the thought of that made him feel gross but she needed affection and love maybe he shouldn’t maybe- on her lips found purchase against a sensitive spot on his neck making him buck up into her heat another moan leaving her throat. “That’s cheating.” He puffed.

“How so?”

“I’m trying to make sure you are okay and here you are turning me on.”

“Well that’s my intention.”

“Tatsu-“

“Don’t use that tone on me.”

“Tatsu.” He says again. “I’ll have sex with you but after we are showering and cuddling is that understood?”

“Yes.” He sighed allowing her to continue her ministrations. Her hands roughly pulled at his sweats and boxers pulling them down to his thighs and allowing for his dick to be free. She moved back up her hand pumping his length slowly.

“What are you- Ugh.”

“I don’t wanna get undressed just to get dressed and undressed again.” She shrugs pulling her underwear to the side before sliding him into her wet heat. His hands squeezed her ass.

She paused.

“I have a better idea.” She says.

“It’s better be good my dick is already in you.” He mutters. She leans forward, chest pressing agaisnt his.

“Why don’t you fuck me in the shower? Gets two things out of the way. I get your dick and we get clean.” Her breath fluttered against the shell of his ear making him shiver.

“Fucking hell you grade A tease.”

“I try.”

It didn’t take them long to race to his bathroom a spare change of clothes in hand. Did the others watch them as they did so, maybe, will they say anything, might depend on how loud they’ll be.

The water was warm against their skin. Sakusa pressed himself towards Tatsu. He took in her form and they way she felt on his skin. He dipped down his lips connecting to hers as he pressed her to the wall.

“Taking control that’s new.” She giggled reminiscing the last time they were together.

“Honestly right now Tatsu shut up and let me make you feel better.” He growled lifting her leg to hook around his hip. He shifted allowing himself to enter her again and let out a sigh as he rutted into her. She hummed a moan against his neck leaving a flurry of kisses in her wake.

She bit down onto the juncture of his neck that would make him moan loudly. She smirked.

“How are you going to do that when the first time we fucked you subbed so sweetly for me.” She whispered in his ear as he rocked against her. He growled hands gripping her thigh and hip. The hand on her thigh moved upwards his thumb rubbing against her clit. She jumped at the sudden pressure. He smirked down at her.

“As much as I would rather be beneath you and let you have your way. You need to understand something.” He grunted hips grinding against hers.

“What’s that Omi?”

“You aren’t just a quick fuck to us.. I can’t speak for the ones I don’t know but I, Bokuto, Atsumu, Iwaizumi and Oikawa don’t think that.” He gagged a bit. “I can’t believe I said other peoples names while I’m fucking you.”

“Uh it’s sweet I guess.” She whimpered at the lack of movement. “Move Omi.”

“Anyway.” He thrusted again. “We always come back right. We trust you. We care for you. Just because you don’t think you are worth it doesn’t me the rest of us think you aren’t either. If you are lonely- hng- come to one of us. Bokuto would give you cuddles for hours. Atsumu would probably force feed you Onigiri and I- gah.”

Sakusa bit his lip while trying to slow down his gradually speeding thrusts, his thumb still resting on Tatsu’s clit. He could feel her thighs shake. The hand on her hip moved to her breasts and grabbed at the flesh hurrying her orgasm.

“And you what?” She moaned.

“I’ll be here whenever you need me.”

His lips connected to hers. It was gentle and contrasted greatly to his now quick thrusts and harsh gropes. Her arms dropped down, nails pressing into his back as she came. It was powerful, maybe her best one yet out of the MSBY players. She kissed back but fell slack in his arms as the water continued to fall over their skin, cooling as it did so. He came inside her after one last harsh thrust their teeth bumping slightly as he did.

They panted, Kiyoomi quickly and thoroughly cleaned them off and dragged her out of the shower. Drying himself off he watched as she slowly followed in suit before taking over and not only drying her off but helping her in pulling on her underwear and throwing on one of his large shirts. After getting dressed himself he lifted her up, legs wrapped around his waist as he walked them back to his room~ very much aware of the stares from both Hinata and Bokuto and the newer confused stares of Atsumu and others on the team.

She slept cuddled close into Kiyoomi’s chest with legs tangled in his own. He smiled and gave her hair gentle strokes as he stared at the ceiling.

He’d do anything for Tatsu. He wasn’t alone in this feeling. Her personality was so varied from her brother it was almost like being caught up in a spell and she was so headstrong she hardly told people how she was feeling unless she was angry.

It was decided. He’d talk to everyone else and they’d do something for her- a present? All make it to a competition? Steal Kenma’s money and buy all her favourite food?

He sighed. For now she just needed reassurance.

[incognitoman1-2-3-4]

Observations - A K18 Short Story

A/N: To celebrate this blog turning three years old, I wanted to revisit an old Krillin & Eighteen story I had written some time ago and publish it here on my Tumblr with some minor improvements. If you would like to read it, I sincerely hope you enjoy it. Feedback is much appreciated! 

K18 Forever ❤️

The serene ocean tide crawled ever closer towards Eighteen as she patiently roamed through the latest issue of her favourite weekly fashion magazine. Enjoying her mid-morning reading session, she mentally noted what items of clothing she pined to purchase and which ones she wished she could erase from existence.

“Seriously, who would want to be seen in that?" She vented to herself, squinting her eyes in disdain at the eccentric patterns on the outfit.

She flicked over to the next page, carefully readjusting her sunglasses. Well, they weren't exactly her sunglasses. She had successfully snuck them out of Krillin's bedroom while he was resting. It was a good thing that he was such a heavy sleeper, as well as being extremely generous with his belongings.

Little did Eighteen know that Krillin had awoken from his deep slumber and was now standing by the porch of Kame House. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the refreshing summer air before deflating his chest back to normal size. A content smile gradually etched itself across his dry lips; Krillin's infatuated eyes admiringly mused over Eighteen.

Sitting alone by the ocean's edge, she appeared as angelic as ever. Her face emitted a unique elegance unrivalled by any other. Krillin attentively observed Eighteen's subtle body language; her relaxed posture was a rare, yet pleasant sight. He decided to make his presence known, promptly advancing towards the shoreline.

The sound of Krillin's muted footsteps instantly caught Eighteen’s attention. Choosing to cast her magazine aside, Eighteen flicked her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose, fervently chewing on her bottom lip; he looked as fine as ever.

Despite his initial protests, she was so glad that Krillin acquiesced to her relentless insistence that he should grow out his jet black hair. Better yet, since the summer weather had come around, sightings of him without a top were becoming more and more frequent, permitting herself to gaze upon his well-toned muscles in all their splendour.

Sadly for Eighteen, Krillin had clothed himself this morning with a t-shirt that she had bought for him on their most recent trip to the mainland. Regardless of whether her little monk was topless or not, she didn't care what anyone said or thought about his appearance. To her, Krillin was simply stunning.

"Finally decided to get out of bed, uh?" Eighteen cordially greeted Krillin as he rooted himself on her left side. He retaliated swiftly with a kiss on her warm cheek.

“Well, you know me. If I ever get the chance to have a lay-in, I'll take it." He assuredly replied, spotting that his sunglasses were loosely hanging off of Eighteen's ears, "I see you've stolen my sunglasses again.”

"Hey!" Eighteen asserted, raising her arms in defence, "I didn't steal your sunglasses. I'm just borrowing them.”

"I ain't complaining." He then proceeded to straighten his sunglasses up for her, before adding, "You actually look kinda cute with them on.”

Without saying a word, Eighteen showed her appreciation of Krillin's kind comment with a habitual gesture. A gesture he didn't see all too often. But when he did, it meant the world to him.

"I've noticed you do that from time-to-time.”

"Do what?" She tentatively asked, feeling as if she had suddenly entered a "deer in the headlights" type situation.

"Don't worry. It's nothing bad." Krillin reassured her with a warm timbre in his voice, "I've just noticed that whenever I give you a compliment or if you see something you like, you have this tendency to needlessly brush your hair aside.”

Eighteen eyes immediately darted up to where her right hand was currently placed. It was exactly as Krillin described. She instantly felt the soft blonde tangles that ran between her fingers. In an effort to combat her self-consciousness, she instinctually moved her hand unto her lap.

"Have you seriously never noticed?" He enquired, watching Eighteen's face grow slightly perplexed.

"Not really, no. But if it's weird, I'll stop.”

"Weird?" Krillin answered calmly, pulling his knees up to his chest, "Take it from me. That hair thing you do is far from weird. It's just a quirky habit you have. That's all.”

“Habit?"

"Yeah. Everyone has them." Krillin added, lifting his eyes to the cloudless blue sky above him.

At that split-second, Eighteen's concerns morphed into curiosity. Now that she gave it some consideration, Krillin did have some fairly odd traits of his own. Realising this, Eighteen violently crashed her hands together with excitement. The resounding clash of her hands drew Krillin's eyes away from the empty sky and unto a far more captivating sight.

"You know, you sometimes start to laugh nervously when I stare at you." Eighteen astutely remarked.

Shaking his head from side-to-side, Krillin firmly disagreed with a great amount of confidence, "Erm- I believe you're imagining things because I'm pretty sure I've never done that before, babe." His confidence, however, was misplaced.

Eighteen silently folded the arms of Krillin's sunglasses, delicately resting them on top of her magazine.

"W-what are you doing?" His query reeked with diffidence.

Eighteen purposefully ignored him, electing to silently close the gap between them instead. Krillin dared not move, especially since Eighteen developed a kittenesque sheen in her eyes. She fearlessly pounced on him; Krillin willingly collapsed unto his back. The space between them was now non-existent. What quickly followed was inevitable.

"Ahh, damn it." He humbly admitted, "I guess you're right.”

"See," Eighteen gloated with raised eyebrows. She remained on top of him, resuming her point with a velvety inflexion, "and I think you laugh because you don't know what else to do when I have my eyes set on you.”

Krillin could provide no reply as strands of Eighteen's hair lightly tickled his besotted face. Her strong emphasis on the word, 'you' drew forth another excitable chuckle. Now that she had brought it to his attention, he couldn't stop himself. Nor did he want to.

Satisfied by the result, Eighteen distanced their proximity, if only by the smallest of margins. This gifted Krillin the chance to not only wipe off the soft sand from his back but also reveal another fascinating observation he made about Eighteen.

"Here's a good one!" Krillin's child-like enthusiasm gripped Eighteen, staring back him with a sense of anticipation, "You always make sure that the TV or radio volume is set at an even number.”

"You're kidding, right?" Eighteen answered him with a doubtful snicker.

"I am 100% serious. There have been times where I have deliberately set the volume at 19 and then I catch you changing it to 20 or 22-“

"Or 18?" She noted with a sense of irony.

“Exactly!"

"I can't say there's a valid explanation for it.”

"The only thing I can think of is that because of your name, you naturally prefer even numbers." Krillin's off-the-cuff reasoning technically made sense.

However, Eighteen wasn't fully convinced, logically stating, "If that's the case, then maybe my brother likes his volume set to an odd number.”

"That's gotta be true." He firmly agreed, "You should ask him the next time you see him.”

"Speaking of my brother, you two share a habit.”

"No way!" Krillin exclaimed with great elation, 'What is it!?”

"I wouldn't get too excited if I were you.” Eighteen warned him, hinting at the fact that this habit wasn't exactly a positive one, "You and Seventeen need to learn how to eat without talking at the same time.”

"Huh. I never would have imagined your brother doing something like that." Krillin remarked bemusedly. Even though he didn't know much about Eighteen's twin brother, he was relieved to discover that they did have something in common, even if it was as trivial as talking with their mouths full.

"Believe me, he's almost as bad as you." Eighteen slyly teased, sneakily resting her head on Krillin's shoulder. Sticking to the subject of her brother, she casually suggested to him, "Perhaps on my next visit to Seventeen's place, you could come with me.”

Eighteen almost lost her balance due to Krillin's sudden jolt. She fixed her eyes on him, studying the agitated expression which had rapidly overtaken him as he paced back and forth in front of her.

"D-do you think that's such a good idea?" Krillin responded apprehensively. This wasn't the first time the topic of Krillin meeting up with Seventeen had occurred. Whenever she mentioned it to him, he would quickly change the subject or brush it off with a fake smile. She decided it was time to tell it to him straight.

"What, so you don't want to meet him then?”

“N-no, I would like to meet him." Krillin unconvincingly replied.

Eighteen candidly returned with a stern tone, "Really? Because your face is telling me something completely different.”

Krillin halted in his tracks as Eighteen's words escaped her mouth. Disappointment followed her as she looked away from him, turning to face the transparent ocean.

Sitting back down on the sand, Krillin hoped he could clearly convey his anxious thoughts: "I really do want to meet your brother, Eighteen. I guess I'm just afraid that he’s gonna think that I'm not good enough for you. Or maybe we won't get along with each other.”

Eighteen's face perked up at Krillin's response. She could understand why he felt apprehensive towards her brother. Nevertheless, she desired to put his concerns to rest.

Taking a hold of his shaky hand, she sincerely reassured him, "Honey, you have no reason to be nervous. Seventeen is fully aware that we've been dating for a little while now and he seems pretty chilled about it. I mean even if he wasn't, I don't need his approval, or anybody else’s for that matter. I just think that we've been together long enough to pay him at least one visit from the two of us.”

"So, I don't have anything to worry about?" Krillin asked with a hint of courage in his voice.

Eighteen strongly shook her head, “None whatsoever. Besides, worst-case scenario, I’ll kick his ass and make sure he doesn’t even think about messing with you.”

Swiftly rising to his feet, Krillin boldly proclaimed, "Alright then! We better get going!”

"Go? Go where?”

"Well, I said that I wanted to meet your brother, didn't I?" Krillin clarified cheerfully, offering his right hand out towards Eighteen.

Gladly accepting Krillin's outstretched arm, she arose from the ground, asking with an ebullient expression, "You want to meet my brother right now?”

"Sure!" Krillin confirmed confidently, "I wanna do whatever makes you happy, Eighteen!"

His elegant blush was infectious; Eighteen's cheeks were being painted with an identical rose coloured hue. She tenderly caressed the sides of his face.

It simultaneously occurred to both Krillin and Eighteen that their impromptu decision to visit Seventeen was going to be a big step in their relationship. It was a step that neither of them could have even imagined taking when Eighteen first stepped foot inside Kame House. But they were so grateful that they had each other to take it.

As their bodies gently swayed, Eighteen inquisitively inquired, "Why are you so good to me, Krillin?"

The man in question instinctually released a nervous chuckle, before answering with a heartfelt resonance, "Because I love you.”

Neither of them knew for certain who exactly initiated the kiss. But one thing was obvious: neither of them cared. Their hands crawled around each other's bodies as their kisses grew more and more intense. It was a good thing Master Roshi and Oolong weren't around to see this. Krillin and Eighteen rarely got to physically express themselves since their housemates always stood around like vultures.

As Eighteen's fingers stealthily crept underneath his shirt to dance around the surface of his stomach, Krillin passionately pecked her neck, leaving little imprints of where his lips had been. It was yet another adorable idiosyncrasy Eighteen so dearly treasured about Krillin.

Soon enough, they carefully rested their foreheads against each other, leading them to stare intimately into each other's eyes. The exhilarating adrenaline which had thrust them into the moment was gradually settling down. Their pounding hearts were left playing catch up.

"Hey, Krillin?” Eighteen softly uttered, effortlessly attaining his gaze, "Before we leave, I just wanted to say thank you for doing this. You have no idea just how much this means to me.”

Little dimples appeared on Krillin's cheeks at the sight of Eighteen's signal of satisfaction.

"You just did your hair thing again.” He eagerly noted.

Eighteen embraced her little quirk proudly, "I know.”

"So, should we get ready to leave, babe?” Krillin asked, reaching down to grab Eighteen’s magazine and his sand-covered sunglasses.

"Hold on a second! I think I’ve forgotten something!”

“Huh? What did you forge-" Cutting off Krillin's sentence, Eighteen boldly pressed her lips onto his. She simply couldn't resist the alluring taste of Krillin's sweet kiss any longer. He gladly welcomed the interruption; he didn't mind being silenced if this was his reward for doing so.

Practising a rare instance of self-control, Eighteen gradually withdrew from their brief kiss, playfully stating, "Okay, now I'm ready.”

With every passing day, it seemed that Krillin and Eighteen managed to discover new things they adored about each other. From big gestures to small habits, each one brought them closer together and caused their love to deepen.

Taking flight to the endless blue skies above them, they joyously marvelled to themselves at where exactly their relationship was taking them. Their desired destination excited them. But the journey to arrive there excited them all the more.

THE END ❤️

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

In which I chronicle my Legacy of Kain journey and bridge it with your boy Adam Warlock! (Part 5 of many, and MASSIVE, I MEAN, HUMOUNGOUS SPOILERS for Soul Reaver 2 and the 1970’s Warlock)

Awwwwwwwww yeah we are going there, these compositions are most definitely on purpose.

This is where I realize that my true purpose in this world is to draw and talk about obscure or forgotten works of fiction, and I embrace this destiny. 

Ladies and gents, laughing times are over (not really though), sh*t gets very real again.

I guess it’s a bit late for this but if you have even the slightest interest in checking any of these properties out, do yourself a favor and go experience them first hand. If you just want to see me lose my mind and don’t really care about spoilers then please, proceed.

You know, when I started this little crossover of sorts, I was just having a laugh you know? It was just a cute little thing, I’ll write this one post and maybe I’ll get enough material for a second one and that’s it. THIS IS THE SEVENTH POST (even though it says Part 5). 

Never, and I do mean never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be here one day, talking about having your past and your time-travelling-future selves meet and clash, of seeing your sanctimonious attitude and overall the worst about yourself personified and given free reign to go on bloodthirsty crusades showing off how much of a hypocrite you’ve bee- but wait, I am getting a bit ahead of myself. 

I’ll get there I promise, let’s go back a bit.

Where we last left off, we managed to travel back to an even more distant past than we’ve been before. To the time of the great Vampire Purge, so that Raziel can meet this infamous ancient vampire who knows all the lore and might have the answers we seek on what exactly is causing the corruption of our world.

As we step out into this era of History we notice the fields covered with the Sarafan Order banners, and the impaled corpses and chopped-off heads of vampires. No different no doubt from the kindness vampires showed mankind later when they gained the upper hand during Kain’s 1.000 year old reign. Raziel seems a bit distraught by the sight since he assumed the Sarafan to be virtuous and heroic:

“For all the butchery of Moebius’s crusade, this massacre was somehow more chilling. The killing fields of the Sarafan betrayed a kind of orderly ruthlessness, the cold-blooded righteousness of the true believer.”

“Here at last in the flesh, I beheld my former brothers-in-arms, the warrior-priests of the Sarafan order; their lives devoted solely to the annihilation of the vampire plague. And while I confess I felt a twinge of longing, a pang of grief for what I had believed was my lost virtue, I regarded them now with none of the reverence I formally felt. For I had seen the human face of the vampires, and now I beheld the monstrousness of these men.”

While on the topic of genocidal holy wars, my boy Adam here had a bit of a run with a similar pious little group that goes by the name of Universal Church of Truth, who were going about doing a bit of cleaning throughout the galaxy:

Things don’t go so well:

Interestingly enough, I’ve learned of a deleted cutscene for Soul Reaver 2 that plays out very similarly to Adam’s first encounter with this “holy” order. There was this minor female vampire character that was being hunted down and would be executed by vampire hunters right in front of Raziel.

This scene was probably removed because they knew that almost 20 years later there would be some asshole on the internet trying to compare their games to obscure marvel comics of the 70’s.

But yeah bummer for Adam here, we’re a couple of pages in and he’s already failed to save someone. However, through the power of the Soul Gem, he’s able to retain her soul for a brief moment, letting us know more about these holy inquisitors:

Some of these methods don’t seem that far off from the Sarafan, especially on the twisting of good intentions part, but on a galactic scale:

Aye, a great bunch o’ fellas all around, if you submit and “fit in”:

Damn.

Hush Adam, I’ll get back to your predicament give me a moment. I just want the good people at home to keep both this church and the Magus, the god they worship in mind for later.

Now, back to the game. In the Sarafan Stronghold during the first hour of gameplay, Raziel made comments on the vampire he’s currently seeking while looking at some stained glass depictions:

“So this was the legendary Janos Audron - reputed to have been the most ancient and diabolical vampire to have ever existed. According to folklore, he lived high in the cliffs of Nosgoth’s northern mountains, and preyed mercilessly on the defenseless villagers below. His reign of terror ended when the Sarafan finally hunted him down and tore his throbbing heart from his still-living body. (…) But I wondered - could Janos Audron truly have been as monstrous as depicted here? Or was this merely artistic licence by the Sarafan, who sought to lionize themselves by demonizing their darkest enemy?

Keep these stained glass images in mind, they’ll also be important shortly. Neetheless to say, the hype was very real to meet this Janos Audron.

And as I kept hearing about this gentleman, I thought: “I really love this cast of pricks, where everyone speaks in half truths and is hiding something and has some hidden agenda, but you know, I kind of wish there was some slim ray of hope, of goodness and honor, just some good old plain chivalry and honesty. Maybe this Janos lad won’t be as bad as he was depicted back in the Sarafan Stronghold.” 

It took us a while but we’re finally make it to his retreat.

I really love the entire segment, the hopelessness and feeling of dread while making your way through this place, probably my favourite puzzle area of the game.  I also really love the music and architecture here.

When we do make it to the top, BOY OH BOY were my prayers answered!

Lo and behold, enter Raziel’s new daddy/mentor figure, my man JANOS AUDRON! Proabably the one decent and kind creature I’ve seen yet in these games (if you don’t count helpless human npcs who are just trying to live their lives but are caught in all these wars, slaughter and destruction).

FINALLY an understanding, moderate, compassionate man in the midst of all the lies and deception. I love him! Oh and he has what seems to be a Romanian accent. Maybe a nod to the granddaddy of all vampires: Dracula? I think his design is cool as well, so that helps.

Before we go into huge lore dumps and while on the topic of having a brief father/mentor figure for your protagonist when he’s utterly lost, alone and confused, I thought I’d bridge it with Adam’s own once foster parent, the High Evolutionary:

From the few minutes you get to know these dads they’re very different characters with different backstories and motivations. Janos is this sad lonely old man, the last of the ancient vampires and one who has been keeping himself alive solely for his sense of duty. 

While the High Evolutionary was once a man called Herbert Wyndham who performed an experiment that evolved him into a godlike being. This experience proved to be such an assault on his senses and perceptions that he chose to encase himself in this armour. Like the name suggests he is obsessed with genetic manipulation and tampering of various kinds, it is his life’s ambition. 

Despite his somewhat villainous appearance, he’s never portrayed as such from what little I’ve read, he’s just…a bit creepy. Like, he takes Adam in and is super stoked about adopting him, but he also values him not so much as a person per se as you and me would, but more as one would value an impressivly carved piece of work:

I don’t know, maybe it’s his metal face that doesn’t emote much; his sometimes questionable morality; maybe it’s the fact that Adam was 5 years old at this point, a baby boy, and this pink armoured deity is super hyped about him; there’s something a bit unsettling about this guy. Have some more dubious quotes I’ve stumbled upon:

All in all, I think he did care about him, in his own strange way:

Anyway, what’s important is that these adoptive dads serve a somewhat similar purpose, and that is to push/urge our ”“”“"heroes”“”“” (I say with many quotation marks) into a more benevolant role: to guide them in their messianic mission and save a corrupted world. Basically there to provide a chance for them to be good boys. Up until now their track record leaves much to be desired, and they’ve been quite lost on what they’re supposed to be and do.

Raziel:

“So it’s all true, then - what Kain and Vorador have told me - I really am some kind of unholy vampire messiah…”

Janos:

“Unholy? -no. Messiah… perhaps.”

Raziel:

“I don’t like that word - it smells of martyrdom.”

Janos:

“Raziel, your role in this world’s destiny is more crucial - and more benevolent - than you’ve allowed yourself to believe. Your journey will not be easy - dark powers are allied against you.”

Oh and both dads give their sons their toys (Soul Reaver and Soul Gem):

Back to the meeting with Janos, we finally learn tons of things, both new and others that have been hinted at throughout, namely:

Janos has been living a life of a recluse, alone, on top of the Aerie;

Janos knows of Raziel (some old legend I think) and has been waiting for him to hand him over the Soul Reaver, saying it is the key to save Nosgoth;

The Pillars of Nosgoth were erected by the ancient vampires and they were the rightful guardians. Janos was called to be th 10th guardian, the Keeper of the Reaver;

Over time this ancient race started to die out, with their history slowly being forgotten;

Humanity prospered and since the Pillars choose their guardians from birth and vampires were no longer born, humans were called to be their guardians but were “wholly ignorant of their true purpose.”

The Circle of human guardians is led to believe (by whom we do not yet know) that vampires are a cancer in the world. Janos warns that “with their vampire purge, the members of the Circle have assaulted the very architects of the Pillars they are sworn to protect (…) With every vampire they kill, the humans are slitting their own throats.”

Janos being a cool level-headed guy here when Raziel says he must hate mankind for all the suffering they’ve brought to him:

“They fear what they don’t understand; and they despise what they fear. But no - I do not hate them.”

I find it funny how Raziel asks if humanity should be forgiven for trying to exterminate the vampire kind and doesn’t realize that: one, he himself was exterminating vampires just a couple of moments ago back in SR1; and two, how he is just like how Janos describes humanity to be:

“They don’t understand what they’re doing. They are simply unenlightened… and vulnerable to manipulation.”

Again, this last line, completely unlike a certain blue shambling corpse I know. Not like him AT ALL.

Then, as they head inside, we learn something odd as Janos presents Raziel with the Reaver. You see, the two times Raziel has been close to the Soul Reaver still in its physical form, reality started to bend and distort (I show it off in this previous post). 

When we met Kain and decided not to kill him, he explained that when: “two incarnations of the blade meet in time and space, a paradox is  created, a temporal distortion powerful enough to derail history”

This distortion, or sense of displacement however, is nowhere to be found now when Janos presents the blade to him. Raziel feels nothing and says that “this nothingness is somehow worse…” and to get it away from him.

We learn the Reaver was forged by the same ancient vampire race that erected the Pillars (which we’ve seen hinted at when we explored the land and came accross all sorts of old murals).

But now THIS is when the game first impales me through the heart.

Me and Janos are interrupted by the Sarafan warriors who arrive carrying Moebius’ Staff (which disables vampires to the point of being barely able to move at all).

And of course! OF COURSE! Of course the moment my boy Raziel finds a truly positive influence in his life to guide and enlinghten him, and that was willing to put himself in danger in order to save him… he is axed! HEART RIPPED FROM HIS CHEST!

And by whom you ask? Who would do such a deed and kill my last ray of hope?

WHY, ME! 

TWICE!

“Me” because I was the one to open an entrance to Janos’ up until then impenetrable retreat, and literally me: human Raziel of the Sarafan that lived during this time period and was head inquisitor!

A bit different from what was depicted back at the Sarafan Stronghold, we found several centuries later (putting the same image here again so you don’t have to scroll up to compare, am I swell or what?):

The Sarafan escape with Janos’ heart and the Reaver, while wraith Raziel has a final moment with Janos. 

This part destroys me:

Raziel:

“Forgive me; I’m sorry… I failed you.”

Janos: (gently)

“No, Raziel. Perhaps this was my true purpose - simply to save your life this once.”

Raziel: (distraught)

“While I have taken yours…”

That last bit is probably my favourite line-read in the entire series so far (which is the most impossible thing to choose since there are so many great ones). But I think it’s the overwhelming sadness in Raziel’s voice that makes it memorable, you’ve never seen him feel like this for another creature.

Breaks my stone hardened heart every time I listen to it. And here’s why I think it’s an effective emotional scene, even though we only get a few minutes with Janos before he is murdered - it is because of contrast. Up until now everyone you meet is some degree of a bad or manipulative person, and you don’t really have a true friend or someone to confide in, there’s no one that really brings out the best in Raziel and it sucks because there is potential there.  So when you introduce the apparently only decent and noble person in this god forsaken land and you’re so used to by now suspect and mistrust everyone, it is impactful because he was truth and honesty in a sea of deception and moral relativism. He was my light in the midst of the fog and the one who saw good in me. And right when you’re finally relaxing and getting confortable the game pulls the rug from under you.

Now, while on the topic of having your past and future meet, there was a little something about the meeting between Adam and the Universal Church of Truth that I’ve been saving up until now. If you remember, Adam was interrogating the young woman who was killed by the inquisitors about the church and the god they worship. When suddenly:

Good news is, Adam must’ve taken a left turn somewhere and ended up on the set for “Monty Python’s Life of Brian”, where he learned some latin:

This helped him quickly figure out the Magus’ identity:

Learn your dead tongues kids, you never know when it might come in handy when meeting your time travelling, thousands of years old future-self:

So as you can se, we have a similar self-discovery journey going on but reversed in a way. In Raziel’s case you play as his future self, who time travels back in time, meets his past self and sees what a hypocrite he’s been his entire life. In Adam’s case you follow his present self, who meets the Magus (his future self), who has travelled back in time 5.000 years, in which time he has built his empire. Meeting and confronting said empire/future self, leads Adam to see what a hypocrite he’s been his entire life. You see, both Adam and Raziel have always been their own worst enemy (their own shortcomings and character flaws). So it would be only natural that we get embodiments of the worst in them: Raziel, the human Sarafan Warrior and the Magus, their past and future selves respectively.

Oof, this was a long one, and I’ve reach the character limit. In the next post I’ll elaborate more on their characters and different selves; and we go through the roller-coaster of emotions that is the endgame for both these stories.

Look foward to me losing my mind even further while I go into time travelling, paradox shenanigans… oh, and look foward to happier times with COSMIC SUICIDE! See you in the near future.

[butterflies-dragons]

oh j0nryas know about balticon report, they just think he was being coy (asdjkahs same delusion with s/ns/ns), that he was rambling bc he was trying not to give spoilers. at this point he could go on live and say "no dumbasses there is no j0nrya, there won't be, there never was" (same w pedoships) and they will all be like "omg it is definitely happening in twow, look at how he's trying to divert our attentions, we are onto you george hehehe"

OK let’s review, again, chronologically, all the times that GRRM was being coy and trying to divert his readers’ attention regarding the ships you mentioned:

The “It could be very different things to each of those involved” Alternative: “Mind you!”

JUNE 24, 1999 THE HOUND AND SANSA

Moreta12: I understand, I’ve heard your opinion on that. In ACOK, it seems that the relationship between the Hound and Sansa had romantic undertones. Is that true?

GeoRR: Well, read the book and decide for yourself.

Moreta12: I’ve read the book and I’ve debated those particular scenes with a few others. Half say that it’s romantic and half say it’s platonic. I’ve taken the romantic stance.

GeoRR:  It could be very different things to each of those involved, mind you

Moreta12:Yes, but it seem like evidence points towards romantic undertones. Will the Hound appear later?

GeoRR: Yes, the Hound will be in STORM OF SWORDS. In fact, I just finished writing a big scene with him.

[Source]

The “Why are you asking me about Sansa’s sexuality?” Alternative 1: “Are you really asking me when your fave male adult character can fuck a girl, 15 years younger than him, without guilt?” Alternative 2: “Why are you so gross?”

OCTOBER 05, 1999 AGE OF SEXUAL RELATIONS IN WESTEROS

The nature of the relationship between Sandor and Sansa has been a hot topic on Revanshe's board. Sansa's youth has been one focus of the discussion. What is the general Westerosi view as to romantic or sexual relationships involving a girl of Sansa's age and level of physical maturity?

A boy is Westeros is considered to be a "man grown" at sixteen years. The same is true for girls. Sixteen is the age of legal majority, as twenty-one is for us. However, for girls, the first flowering is also very significant... and in older traditions, a girl who has flowered is a woman, fit for both wedding and bedding. A girl who has flowered, but not yet attained her sixteenth name day, is in a somewhat ambigious position: part child, part woman. A "maid," in other words. Fertile but innocent, beloved of the singers. In the "general Westerosi view," well, girls may well be wed before their first flowerings, for political reasons, but it would considered perverse to bed them. And such early weddings, even without sex, remain rare. Generally weddings are postponed until the bride has passed from girlhood to maidenhood. Maidens may be wedded and bedded... however, even there, many husbands will wait until the bride is fifteen or sixteen before sleeping with them. Very young mothers tend to have significantly higher rates of death in childbirth, which the maesters will have noted. As in the real Middle Ages, highborn girls tend to flower significantly earlier than those of lower birth. Probably a matter of nutrition. As a result, they also tend to marry earlier, and to bear children earlier. There are plenty of exceptions.

[Source]

The “Unreliable narrator - Part 1” Alternative: “The much more important lapse in memory that was promised”

JUNE 26, 2001 SF, TARGARYENS, VALYRIA, SANSA, MARTELLS, AND MORE

[GRRM is asked about Sansa misremembering the name of Joffrey’s sword.]

The Lion’s Paw / Lion’s Tooth business, on the other hand, is intentional. A small touch of the unreliable narrator. I was trying to establish that the memories of my viewpoint characters are not infallible. Sansa is simply remembering it wrong. A very minor thing (you are the only one to catch it to date), but it was meant to set the stage for a much more important lapse in memory. You will see, in A STORM OF SWORDS and later volumes, that Sansa remembers the Hound kissing her the night he came to her bedroom… but if you look at the scene, he never does. That will eventually mean something, but just now it’s a subtle touch, something most of the readers may not even pick up on.

[Source]

The “Unreliable narrator - Part 2” Alternative: “It doesn’t mean what you think it means”

OCTOBER 05, 2002 SANSA’S MEMORY

[Note: This mail has been edited for brevity.]

… this is an inconsistency with ASoS more than an outright error. In ASoS, Sansa thinks that the Hound kissed her before leaving her room and King’s Landing. In ACoK, no kiss is mentioned in the scene, though Sansa did think that he was about to do so.

Well, not every inconsistency is a mistake, actually. Some are quite intentional. File this one under “unreliable narrator” and feel free to ponder its meaning

[Source]

The “Unreliable narrator - Part 3” Alternative: “Better ask yourself about Sansa’s psychological state”

NOVEMBER 27, 2007 GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ANSWERS YOUR QUESTIONS

Here’s a really particular question (which I realize means it probably won’t get asked in a general interview): In A Storm of Swords, there is a chapter early on where Sansa is thinking back to the scene at the end of A Clash of Kings when The Hound came into her room during the battle. She thinks in the chapter about how he kissed her, but in the scene in A Clash of Kings, this actually didn’t happen. Was that a typo or something? —Valdora

GRRM: It’s not a typo. It is something! [Laughs] ”Unreliable narrator” is the key phrase there. The second scene is from Sansa’s thoughts. And what does that reveal about her psychologically? I try to be subtle about these things.

[Source]

The “The answer is No” Alternative: NO!

APRIL 15, 2008 FUTURE MEETINGS, POVS, ARYA’S ROLE, EASTERN LANDS, AND ASSASSINS

[Will Sandor and Sansa meet?]

Why, the Hound is dead, and Sansa may be dead as well. There’s only Alayne Stone.

[Source]

The “He’s a lot more dangerous than he is romantic” Alternative: “BUT THERE IS SAM!”

AUG. 21ST, 2009 AS SER JORAH MORMONT… - NOT A BLOG

weltraummuell: The Hound Oh please don’t cast an old guy for the Hound, his scenes with Sansa are so romantic and erotic, I couldn’t bear if it’d feel creepy all of a sudden. Well, that’s me making demands. LOL

GRRM: Re: The Hound Old guy? No, but… the Hound is still a whole lot older than Sansa, and was never written as attractive… you know, those hideous burns and all that… he’s a lot more dangerous than he is romantic.  

kestrana: The Hound Yeah its a “girl always wants the bad boy” kind of thing although Sansa seems to pull something else out of him. It feels so wrong sometimes but I want to see them together again tee hee.

weltraummuell: The Hound Hehe, George, maybe you didn’t intend it, but he turned out to be a very erotic character to female readers. Especially since he’s mutilated and dangerous. Makes him unpredictable and vulnerable which is the most explosive aphrodisiac for a girl’s fantasy. ;)

weltraummuell: The Hound And I know from discussions on other board other women feel just the same about Sandor. He’s an absolute favourite with the ladies!

halfbloodmalfoy: The Hound LOL, you’re such a man. To many of us women, dangerous *is* attractive.

GRRM: The Hound But no one has any love for poor old Sam Tarly, kind and smart and decent and devoted…

[Source]

The “That’s interesting...” Alternative: “They are deeply troubled individuals, Harriet”

22 JUNE 2012 SWORD & LASER VIDEO PODCAST

GRRM: I am sometimes surprised by the reactions, of women in particular, to some of the villains. The number of women over the years who have written to me that their favorite characters are Jaime Lannister or Sandor Clegane [the Hound] or Theon Greyjoy… All of these are deeply troubled individuals with some very dark sides, who have done some very dark things. Nonetheless, they do draw this response, and quite heavily, I think, in the case of some of them, from my female readers in particular.

Veronica Belmont: I’m a big fan of the Hound, myself, actually.

Tom Merritt: Of Sandor? Really?

Veronica Belmont: Yeah, the Hound… Maybe it’s not because I feel any compassion towards them, I’m not really sure what the attraction is. Ah, I’m not going to call it attraction, actually. Let’s just say it’s a fascination, perhaps.

GRRM: [Chuckles] Well, I mean, fascination is one thing, but some of these letters indicate that there really is like a romantic attraction going on there. And I do know there���s all these people out there who are, as they call themselves, the “San/San” fans, who want to see Sandor and Sansa get together at the end. So that’s interesting, too.

Tom Merritt: The TV show has sort of played with that a little, and probably stoked those fires.

GRRM: Oh, sure. And I’ve played with it in the books. There’s something there, but it’s still interesting to see how many people have responded to it.

[Source]

The “I guess I don’t understand women” Alternative: “I'm shook”

JUNE 23, 2015 GRRM Q&A AT THE SCIENCE FICTION BOOKSTORE IN STOCKHOLM

Question: “Is there any fan reactions that you have been surprised by, like is there a character that’s more popular than you thought or have people been shocked by something you didn’t think we would be shocked at?”

GRRM: “I’m reasonably certain what people will be shocked by. I knew that the Red Wedding would provoke a big reaction and it did. I was pretty confident that, you know, throwing Bran out the window and then killing Ned in the first book would get reactions, and indeed they did. All of those worked exactly the way it did to the extent that things that have surprised me, they tend to be smaller things. I guess I… Maybe I should not have, I don’t know. How do I phrase this without getting myself in terrible trouble… I guess I don’t understand women, but I was definitely, you know, way back when, surprised by the number of women who reacted positively to characters like Theon and the Hound as dashing, romantic figures. The san/san kind of thing took me by surprise, I must admit, and even more so the women who, and there are some, who really like Theon. So that surprised me.”

[Source]

The “Comfort level of femininity” Alternative: “That's not a reference for romance”

MAY 29, 2016 BALTICON REPORT 

My con friend asked about the Jon/Arya relationship again and brought her (impressive) Game book that had all of her references marked out with little flags. She brought up the Ygritte connections to Arya that Jon saw in her. George did not directly answer yes or no if there would be anything romantic between the two.

George did say, despite what readers see as clues to a romantic relationship between Jon/Arya in the books themselves, he did not confirm this so easily but inferred that what Jon saw in Ygritte was a comfort level of femininity. <<<  She and I obviously discussed these comments after the meeting and this was the general feeling.

My con friend was referring to George explaining Jon’s perception: GRRM replied, “You know, I don’t think it’s a reference for that [for romance]. It’s a reference to a certain physical type, and  a certain indication of what Jon finds admirable. It’s like someone who reminds you of, you know… Other people might be put off by this, you know, hair that looks like small rodents have been living in there. It doesn’t put him off because he is used to that.”

The “I was making up shit.” Alternative: "I wish I can delete that"

MAY 29, 2016 BALTICON REPORT 

After the Coffee Talk just outside the room:

My Con Friend asked about Arya and Jon again. This time GRRM gave some very pointed replies:

GRRM finished (in the hallway now) by saying that he “wished some past things weren’t such strong foreshadowing,” and that he, “wished some new things had stronger foreshadowing then.”

Friend: Ok, if you foreshadowed something in the first book, like, really cleverly hidden, would you then follow through on that hint? For sure?..

GRRM: “Well, this goes with what I said before, the story changes and expands as I write. I wish I was able to go back and make revised drafts, but that’s not going to happen.”

Here is a transcript of the outline discussion and Jon/Arya portion of the coffee talk:

[question about Jon/Arya]

GRRM: “Alright, you’ve thought about this more than I have. I mean it’s simple, Jon is very fond of Arya. They were the two odd birds in the Stark family nest, here. They didn’t quite fit in with the others, they look like each other, they both had the brown hair, you know, as opposed to the auburn hair of Sansa and Bran and Rickon and Robb. So there was always that closeness between them. And, you know, Arya didn’t mind that Jon was a bastard, and Jon didn’t mind that Arya was a tomboy, so there is that closeness there.”

[question about Jon comparing his lover to his sister]

GRRM: “If he did it, uhm… I began writing these books in 1991, and, uhm, I worked on it in 91 and then I got a tv play, so I put it aside to really work on ‘Doorways’ tv pilot and did a tv show in 92-93. In 94 I returned to it [the books] and worked on it. You know, up till then, in my career as a writer, I’d always written the entire book before I opted for sale. That’s unusual. Most writers do chapters and an outline. They write a few chapters, they outline the rest of the book, give that to the publisher and the publisher says ‘oh okay, I’ll take that’.

“As some of you may have noticed, those who have been paying very, very carefully attention, I’m not good with deadlines. And, uh, and I’m not good with outlines, either. I always hated outlines. So with Fevre Dream and with Armageddon Rag and with Dying of the Light and all my novels, I wrote the entire book. I didn’t do chapters and outline. I sat down, I wrote a whole book, and I sent it to my agent and said ‘Look, here’s a whole book, and it’s finished’. That way I ran into no deadline, it was finished before it even went on the market. And it worked well for me. And my initial thought was to do this the same way, but what happened, you know, was in 1994, uhm, when I returned to it and I’m working on it and I’m very enthused about it and I say ‘I really wanna write these Game of Thrones books as the next part’. But I was still in Hollywood and I’d just lost all this groundwork on ‘Doorways’, I was still in… The studios and networks still wanna work with me, so I’m getting other offers, like ‘We want you to write this movie’, ‘we want you to do another tv pilot’. And, you know, I took a couple of them and was ‘Oh god, I gotta have to put the book away again’. Cause I have no deadline [for the book]. You know, when you think Hollywood, they will give you a deadline, you know, they say ‘here, son, write this movie, we want it in three months’.

“So, I said ‘look, if I wanna get back to being a novelist, I’m gonna have to sell this even though it’s not finished’. So I had my 200 pages of Game of Thrones at that point, but they wanted outline. I said ‘I don’t do outlines. I don’t know what’s gonna happen, I figure it out as I go. And that’s how I always did it.’ No, we had to have an outline. So I wrote two pages, a two-page thing about what I thought would happen. It’ll be a trilogy, it’ll be three books, Game of Thrones, the Dance with Dragons, and Winds of Winter. Those were the three window titles. And, uh, it’ll be three books and this’ll happen, and this’ll happen, and this’ll happen. And I was making up shit.

“And I had thought that those two pages were long forgotten, because, of course, the books did sell. They sold in the United States and in Great Britain, both. They sold for enough money that I didn’t have to take any more Hollywood games. So I was able to say ‘no’ around. I had a few less [?] to wind up in in 94 and 95. Once I had, I said ‘no, I don’t want any more movies or tv shows, I’m going to write these books now’. And I started writing the books. And in the process, I pretty much disregarded the outline. The characters took me off in entirely different directions. So, for 20 years I had forgotten that that two-page thing even existed. And then someone in my British publisher, HarperCollins, they got a new office building, uh, brand new offices, and new conference rooms, big conference rooms that they decorated with books and stuff like that. And they named the conference rooms after the writers, so one of the conference rooms [?], and they put up these plastic display cases, including the outline. The two-page outline, yes. [?], they didn’t ask my permission, they just put it up. And in that two-page outline, Jon and Arya become a romantic item.”

“You know, I don’t think it’s a reference for that [for romance]. It’s a reference to a certain physical type, and  a certain indication of what Jon finds admirable. It’s like someone who reminds you of, you know… Other people might be put off by this, you know, hair that looks like small rodents have been living in there. It doesn’t put him off because he is used to that.””

[someone says they have 5 minutes left]

“You know, I was pretty pissed that that outline got out there. It should not have happened. Outlines and letters like that are meant only for the eyes of the editor. They shouldn’t go on public display. And, uh, they also [?] my papers on [?], all my papers and correspondence. You know, I’ve been sending that stuff there for years, and it’d be, you know, available for future scholars or whatever, just like the papers of many other writers. Somehow, in the back of my head I was like ‘yeah, 20 years after I’m dead some scholar will go in and find them’. They’re going in right now!”   ”

[question if he is still going with the 1991 ending]

“Yes, I mean, I did partly joke when I said I don’t know where I was going. I know the broad strokes, and I’ve known the broad strokes since 1991. I know who’s going to be on the Iron Throne. I know who’s gonna win some of the battles, I know the major characters, who’s gonna die and how they’re gonna die, and who’s gonna get married and all that. The major characters. Of course along the way I made up a lot of minor characters, you know, I, uhm…Did I know in 1991 how Bronn, what was gonna happen to Bronn? No, I didn’t even know there’d be a guy named Bronn. I was inventing him along the way when I was writing, ‘Okay, he gets kidnapped. Let’s see, there are a couple sellswords there, their names are Fred and Bronn’.

“It was actually Bronn and Chiggen, and then one of them dies, I flipped a coin ‘okay, who dies? Chiggen dies, cause his name is stupid. Bronn is a better name, so I’ll keep Bronn’. And then Bronn became quite an interesting character and plenty of these characters take on minds of their own. They push to the front till you [?] speech and you think of a cool line and you give it to Bronn because he’s trying to talk, and now Bronn is somebody who says something cool. [?]. That’s how characters grow on you. “So a lot of the minor characters I’m still discovering along the way. But the mains-”

[question if he knows Arya’s and Jon’s fates]

“Tyrion, Arya, Jon, Sansa, you know, all of the Stark kids, and the major Lannisters, yeah.”

This report appears in the following sources:

fattest leech of ice and fire blog [Source 1]

asoiaf.westeros.org [Source 2]  

westeros.org [Source 3]

The “Unreliable narrator - Part 4” Alternative: “I think I had enough...”

DECEMBER 2016 ASKING GEORGE R.R. MARTIN ABOUT SAN/SAN

My question is regarding Sansa Stark. Her sexuality has evolved through every book and yet the memory that seems to stick the more with her in this regard is the night of the Blackwater. So I was wondering if you can expand on your view on what this is, since as before that night her interactions with Sandor Clegane weren't really physical.

The night of the Blackwater, yes. Ahhh... Well, I'm not going to give you a straight answer on that hahaha... Uhmmm, but I would say that ahhh... you know a television show and a book each has its own strengths and weaknesses; there a re tools that are available to me as a novelist, that are not available to people doing a television show. And of course there are tools available to them, that are not available to a novelist, I mean they can lay in a soundtrack, they can do special effects, they can do amazing things that I can't do, I just have words on paper. What can I do, well I can use things like the internal narrative, I can take you inside of territories... thoughts, which you can't do in a TV show... Ahhh... You just have the words they speak, you see them from outside because the camera is external, while prose is internal, and I have the device known as "unreliable narrator"... Ahhh... Which again, they don't have. So, think about those two aspects when you consider that night of the Blackwater. 

[Source]

Most of these questions make me think of Nabokov having to clarified, regarding Lolita, that he didn’t write a romance..........

So there’s that, everyone can draw their own conclusions.  God knows that in this fandom: “We look up at the same stars, and see such different things.”  

Thanks for your message.