#this is also the reason he hoards everything he finds

[beachyserasims]

Papa Rick's costume for this year 🎃🎃 (yes, he is still living in The Lonely House)

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ OF DRAGON BEHAVIOUR AND OLDE TRADITIONS. 

fandom. genshin impact

pairings. neuvillette, zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings. sfw + nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, heavily influenced by 'dragon' behaviour (is a bit leaned on a/b/o), 5 + 1 fic type (the + 1 is nsfw), possessive neuvie/zhongli, sfw: collaring, scenting, marking, nsfw: nesting, both of them have big dicks lol, talk about breeding, not edited/proofread, written in lowercase

word count. 1.8k

notes. i'm so down bad...

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ flaunting. 

once a dragon is mated, they like to show off their mate proudly. to enhance their physical aspects and to proclaim their trust in them, mates get draped in the dragon’s treasures. treasures this mythical beast usually hoards with jealousy. the shinier and bigger the treasures, the higher is the mate in social standing. 

neuvillette is less lavish with his treasures, simply because his priorities in his riches lay elsewhere. this is why you often where the brightest pearls, adoring your neck or shiny shells around your wrists. he enhances your beauty much subtler, but nonetheless you’re still worthy to be called his mate. after all, he’s a dragon of water, it’s only right for him to drape you in the gifts of the sea. 

zhongli prefers you in the finest silk and your skin adored with gold and other treasures found in the rich land that belongs to him. as a dragon of earth and especially as geo archon, all the gems are crafted in the most beautiful jewelry. everything to enhance your beauty. he especially likes you in cor lapis, a jewel in a color that he claims as his— and seeing you in this soft hue of orange swells pride in him. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ collaring. 

collaring can be seen as a step further of flaunting. the dragon creates an individual collar for their mate, to not only protect one of the weakest points of their body, their neck, but to also immediately signal that they belong to them. it signals protection and ownership, which is why mates rarely part with their gifted collars,as they’re also the first gift they receive as a dragon’s mate.

neuvillette knows that collars, by human standards, are not something normal. this is why he takes great care to create a collar that not only shows his strength but also fits within the domain the two of you move. this is why your collar is not a traditional one, instead resembling a tight necklace adorned by pearls and silver. it’s just enough to calm his instincts but also a fashionable item— one for which you’ve received many compliments. 

zhongli on the other hand has crafted a collar of which his elders would be proud of. it’s heavy on your neck, made by his own hands and not your usual jewelry. despite that, the collar is made by the best gems and jewels zhongli could find, and of course in his colors. and to ensure you’re comfortable wearing such a heavy collar, the inner side is embellished with the most expensive velvet he could find. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ acknowledgement. 

another important aspect between the relationship of a dragon and their mate is the acknowledgement of the hunt. once the dragon has successfully brought home the game, it is now up to the mate to appraise said game. only once they give their approval can the food be shared between them. this also includes all their offspring. 

neuvillette is always very careful with the food he brings to you. he ensures he’s the only one touching it, as tradition demands, and satisfactory enough for your plate. to him, keeping you fed and happy is much more important than to take care of his own needs. even when you always scold him, when he neglects himself, in this aspect he won’t bulge. 

zhongli himself has a very expensive taste and only the best is just good enough for his mate. no matter what you say, he will hunt on his own and pick all the herbs and berries himself, or else he wouldn’t even present the food. your approval is the highest praise, only one of the many reasons why zhongli takes so much care and time to honor this tradition. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ scenting. 

scenting is one of the few habits and traditions that are more intimate. a dragon scents their mate for several reasons. firstly, it’s one of the final steps of their ‘ownership’ over the mate. clothed in their treasure but also bathed in their scent. secondly, the process itself is very calming for the dragon, almost meditative. 

neuvillette likes to scent you when he comes home. it calms not only his dragon but also his mind. because of that, he never scents you in public, thinking it as a private matter and a treasured one added to that. it’s not something others should witness— you in his arms, pliant to his nosing, his gentle kisses and nibs on your skin and especially when he removes your collar to scent you on your neck. 

zhongli, despite being an old dragon, behaves as if he’s freshly mated and a young blood when it comes to scenting you. he dislikes smelling others on you or any artificial scent that’s not you. he has no shame scenting you in public, but over the years living with you he has reduced to the almost scandalous behaviour to nothing more but scenting on your wrists and a quick nosing on your cheeks. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ marking. 

marking is quite similar to scenting, only this behaviour varies from dragon to dragon. for some, a so called ‘mate-bite’ is enough, others like to add new markings everytime they couple with their mate. but there are even some dragons, who enjoy being marked by their mates, a most unusual behaviour. 

neuvillette has always enjoyed marking you, but is very gentle with it. his mate-bite, another physical sign that you belong to him, is located on your right shoulder, a wound healed a long time ago. he much prefers when you mark him, your teeth sinking in his much sturdier flesh. it leaves him breathless, just the mere thought of you marking him making his head spin— he loves to leave his marks on you, but he even loves it more when you mark him, to tell the whole world that he belongs to you. 

zhongli always loves to admire the marks his sharp teeth leave behind, trace his fingers over your reddened skin— he’s fascinated by your vulnerability and your eagerness to please him. but what matters most to him is that you love to wear his marks, never hesitate to show them off by not hiding them. social decorum would demand for you to hide them away behind draped fabrics, but instead you proudly wear them, as if they’re badges of highest honor. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ nesting. 

as every other animal, be it mythical or not, dragons go through a cycle. at it’s highest point, their fertility is much more prominent. to ensure the increased chances of success in producing offspring, the biology of dragons demands them to nest during the cycle. if the dragon ignores this inner instinct, it grows irritated or even aggressive to everyone who is not their mate. nesting ensures the comfort of both the dragon and their mate and helps them to properly prepare for their coupling. 

the moment the first child of the couple is born, nesting becomes a daily thing until said child passes the first stages of growth. the dragon builds a nest in their den, a different one from the ones in which the parents couple, and ensures that both mate and offspring are within this nest. the warmth and scent of both parents help the child to imprint on them and to recognize them later on as their sires. 

neuvillette, when it comes to nesting, is very picky about it. his nest has to be ready before his cycle starts and you have to be in it as well, pliant and ready for him. if you’re not comfortable, he gets stressed and that doesn't end well. 

for the most part, he has his instincts under control, but when you’re in his nest, naked and flushed, he tends to get feral. and once he lets go of that tight control he has over himself and his body, the dragon in him comes out. 

his pupils turning to slits, fangs sharpening and nails becoming claws. scales appear on his skin, his horns grow— neuvillette lets go of his human skin and becomes the closest he can be to a dragon without hurting you. it always excites you, seeing your usual calm and stoic mate all excited about the thought of breeding you. 

he’s an attentive lover, even if he could just slide into your hole and start fucking you stupid. instead he takes immense care to prepare you, hours even, lips and hands leaving marks on your skin while he makes you cum on his tongue several times. 

and then, when you see stars behind your closed eyes, your thighs shake around his head and you try to calm your breath— then he slowly slides into you, his giant cock hitting you in all right places, making you scream again—

then, only then, when you’re pliant and open for him, a flushing mess beneath his massive body and moaning his name— only then he would truly start to fuck you. 

zhongli is very attentive during nesting, but especially as your lover. he always puts your needs above his, simply because he finds pleasure when you enjoy yourself. 

despite being mated for a long time, you’re always nervous about nesting, especially about the most intimate part of it. zhongli is big and it’s always a tight fit, even if he prepares you with his fingers and mouth. you’re never in pain, he wouldn’t forgive himself if he would make you cry, but you’re still understandably nervous. 

zhongli doesn’t mind it, he understands and instead makes sure you’re distracted enough to not lose yourself in spiraling thoughts. it also helps when you’re breathless from the countless orgasms he has already given you, your hole wet enough, almost gushing, so the slide is smooth and painless for you. 

and you can’t lie, you enjoy his big dick, but sometimes it’s too overwhelming. yet the many years together has taught him many tricks and especially things you enjoy. 

you flush beneath him, when he starts praising you, his rich voice causing goosebumps all over your body. you whimper, when his fangs craze over your skin and moan when he actually bites you. 

but you truly lose your mind when he starts fucking you, slow but deep thrusts, taking his time while you writhe beneath him. it seems so effortless, how he’s destroying you, as if he isn’t going crazy when his mate is in his nest, calling his name, clinging onto him, begging him to go faster, harder, begging for more. 

taglist. @trailblazernet , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @verxsyon , @auraxins , @lupicalbestwolf , @the-dumber-scaramouche , @spiriteddreams , @kiiyoooo , @8-xnny , @spiriteddreams

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ARKHAM MAID 2023

[room-surprise]

hi! i was wondering if in dunmeshi, before falin was eaten by the dragon and before present events, laios and his party were earning money for k*lling monsters in the dungeon? i don't understand if someone was paying them, how they were making money and how it worked

I want to write a proper, thorough reply to this with citations to specific references and mentions in the story, but uh, a tree fell on my house so I've been a bit too busy to do that lmao.

BUT, to give an incomplete answer:

Yes, adventurers get paid for work they do inside of the dungeon, or, they just harvest monsters/plants/treasure that they find. The dungeons are a kind of boom town, similar to a gold or silver rush, which means that the entire local economy is based on people trying to extract wealth from the dungeon, since it's dangerous but easy work, anyone can try to do it with very little resources, and the potential for profit is huge.

Someone with almost no money could, potentially, go into the dungeon and walk away with enough money to start a business, or buy a house or a boat. If they don't die. If they're lucky. Desperate people cling to the hope that they will be one of the lucky ones who become insanely wealthy.

Based on things Kui's told us in the manga and the extra materials, we know:

You pay a fee or a toll to be allowed to go into the dungeon. Access is controlled by the local government. Some people avoid this, like Senshi and the orcs since they just live in the dungeon and avoid leaving.

Many people die, give up, or fail to accomplish anything useful in the dungeon. These people probably generate a good, steady income for the island, since they pay fees but don't have to be rewarded. The lure of trying to strike it rich keeps huge hoards of people flowing in steadily. Most money in boom towns is generated by all the people who are trying and failing to get rich buying things from local people (food, supplies, lodging).

When a dungeon first appears, it is full of easy to harvest gold and treasure. "Gold peeling" is how Laios and Falin started out, and it's literally going into the dungeon and peeling gold off of the walls and statues, and taking any easy to transport treasure with you.

Various tasks need to be done in the dungeon to keep it safe, clean and accessible, and all of these result in a person either being paid by the lord of the island, or the person who they have saved. Killing dangerous monsters, finding people who have died and taking their corpses to the resurrection office, reporting changes to the dungeon, discovering new paths, etc.

When gold and treasure that is easy to find starts to run out, people turn primarily to harvesting monsters. They are probably paid a bounty for every monster they can prove they killed (bring back some body part that a monster only has one of, like a tail), and then they can also sell anything else they harvested from the monster in the market (meat, the rest of the hide, horns, teeth, claws.)

You want the dungeon to stay safe with a well-managed monster population to prevent something like Utaya from happening.

But if you kill too many monsters, now that the treasure is gone, there won't be any profit reason for people to go into the dungeon anymore, and your economy will collapse.

So you need to manage the dungeon and keep the monster population high, but not too high. This is what the Shadow Lord was complaining about. He thinks that if they evacuate the dungeon the expensive monsters they are currently harvesting may stop manifesting/spawning/being born, and all that will be left to harvest is mushrooms and slimes, which are not worth a lot of money.

Laios' group had an assignment from the island lord to try and find the giant doors on the 6th floor that nobody had been able to get past. That was what they were trying to do when they ran into the red dragon and Falin got eaten!

Despite everything, at that time Laios' party was the number one team on the island, capable of going the deepest into the dungeon.

Kabru's team is also considered pretty good, despite how often we see them dying - this should tell you how bad many of the teams that go in are! Most of them don't accomplish much or anything... Just like a boom town, where most miners go into debt trying to find gold, and only a few strike it rich.

This is what Rin is talking about in her first appearance, when she scolds Kabru for being too modest around other adventurers. She wants those other people to know that they are not going into the dungeon for profit and that they're not like the rest of them, dream-chasing fools hoping to make a payday.

She's offended anyone would mistake them for people like that, meanwhile Kabru would rather keep their motivations obscure and not advertise that they're in the dungeon on a moral crusade, not a financial one.

It should also be noted that the dungeon has a lot of criminal activity going on inside of it, because it's not well monitored and it's easy to conceal your activities. There's also a population of people who can "no longer live on the surface" for various reasons, such as being wanted criminals, exiles hiding to avoid vigilante justice, people too poor to leave because they wasted all their money trying to get rich and now they can't afford to live on the surface, or leave the island.

Essentially there is a population of homeless people living in the dungeon, eating anything they can scavenge, begging and stealing to stay alive. This could even be part of the taboo on eating monsters in the dungeon - that's something poor and desperate people do, and doing it is seen as a sign of how low Laios' party has fallen.

This is also why Kabru is so worried about the Touden party: their financials are a mess, but they keep going into the dungeon. Why? People think they are good, but maybe they're secretly criminals? Are they on the run from the law? Kabru has no idea, since "they just really love monsters and this is fun" is not a motivation ANYONE ELSE ON EARTH HAS.

The Toudens can't even say "we're monster researchers trying to write a book on monsters." They're just hobbyists, they just like them a lot. Kui tells us that Laios was encouraged to become a monster researcher but the studying was too intense for him.

It would be like finding out someone who works in a coal mine that kills 80% of the miners doesn't actually care about being paid, they just loooove coal and want to be around coal all the time.

[jellyfishsthings]

Nerves and Stolen Kisses

I have been toying with the idea of writing a fic about him for quite sometime and after last weekend I just had to. Estelle ( Ollie's rumoured gf is mentioned here but it is a fake relationship for PR reasons.) Also Paul Aron has a gf... friends to lovers trope.

Shoutout to @httpiastri for the inspiration

The Saudi Arabian Grand Prix was fast approaching. And Ollie was a jumble of nerves and excitement as usual. Since the early hour of the day, he opened the curtains letting the sun into the room and you groaned into the pillow.

“Wakey wakey, sleepyhead. Come on, we have a whole day ahead of us.”

“No, you do. I don't know why I came.”

“Because I am your bestest friend and I paid for your ticket and let you stay with me.”

“Both of which are for your benefit.”

“Come on….”

“Fine.” You say with a dejected sigh as you get up and you both get ready for the day. David, Ollie's dad was already waiting for you and you headed towards the paddock.

Everything was a frenzy and was passing by so quickly. As Ollie got into the garage and got ready for the quali you headed towards the stands trying to find Cassie, Paul's long-term girlfriend. Throughout the years you have formed a unique friendship. She was the only one who knew about your crush on Ollie and she teased you endlessly about it. Ollie and you had been best friends for the better part of your life, joint to the hip, having endless sleepovers, even if Dad didn't approve.

It was an endless nightmare being close enough to get a taste of all the what ifs, but never experiencing them.

“Do you and your lover boy share a room, huh?”

“It's not like that and you know it, Cassandra.”

“Yeah, it hurts, doesn't it?”

“So much. You have no idea. Yesterday I couldn't sleep and as the hours passed, he came closer and closer. He ended up holding me in his sleep. And I felt so bad because of Estelle. I know that they aren't really together and it's for PR, but still, I feel awful because technically I am the other woman… and she is just so nice and sweet. Never overstepping, I think she knows.”

We both stay quiet after that as the session continues.

“You know… whatever the case. You both love each other, platonically or not.”

“Yeah, I know.” I say as I watch the times set by all the drivers, Ollie having the fastest one yet.

“Looks like your man is on pole.”

We both make our way through the paddock, trying to pass the roaring sea of fans and we hand out already-signed autographs to anyone who asks for them. When we finally arrive, we part ways, before making promises about having dinner together at a restaurant Cassie wanted to try. And I head towards the Prema garage finding two beaming Bearmans, hugging.

“Hey Bear. Did you drive fast enough?” You call at him. And he grins like an idiot before swooping you into a tight hug spinning you. His laughter echoes in your ears as he sets you down.

“Yeah I drove fast enough, you minx.”

“Good. Now let's go. We are having dinner with Paul and Cassie in four hours and I want to see the city.”

“Give me five minutes to change and we are good to go.”

The afternoon is spent visiting local stores, trying to communicate in scrappy English and making terrible puns with products or street names. When they finally head to the restaurant their sides hurt from laughing. Dinner passed by as quickly as it came. As everyone says, time flies by when you are with the people you love.

Just as they open the door for their hotel room, Ollie flops in the bed as you head towards your computer and open it as hoards of emails and messages appear on the screen. Great more deadlines and essays to write until the end of the week.

“Leave it. We can pretend that we have nothing to do and watch a movie or local TV and try to understand what the hell is going on.”

“Thanks Bear. But I can't, as tempting as your offer is. Go to sleep, I will join you soon.”

And so you sit in front of your computer, ending essay after essay, sending them on time, until your eyes hurt from the pale blue light. The bed seems more welcoming than ever before as Ollie starfishes the entire length of it and his soft snores fill the empty space. Yeah, maybe it's time to call it a day.

An awful sound echoes in the room and eventually wakes you.

“I swear if it's one more ad I will jump from the window.” You grumble into your pillow as you steal the blankets and turn yourself into a burrito.

Ollie hisses as he opens his phone only to find a ton of messages and many missed calls from Ferrari. He dials Fred back as he moves towards the bathroom, trying to let you steal a few more minutes of much needed sleep.

When he emerges back in the room he sits down in front of you, his back supported on the bed.

“Ols, what's going on?”

“Carlos has an appendix”

“Oh no. Is he having surgery?”

“Yeah.” He says softly. “They want me to replace him.”

“What?” At that you are fully awake. Your hair is a netted nest and you look at him in shock. He looks at you, you his best friend who would look like a mess to anyone else but to him you look like the most beautiful and amazing creature in the world. Your mere presence has a more calming effect on him than anything else. If it weren't for you, he would have already lost his mind. “How? When? I…”

“We need to get to the paddock, if I don't want to miss FP3. I will wake up Dad and break the news to him.”

Soon after you enter the paddock and thousands of reporters try to get a better look at Ollie, flashing their cameras at you and bombarding you with questions as you make your way to the Ferrari garage and mechanics steal Ollie from you and David as they set to work quickly. David looks pale and sick as he paces into the garage trying to control his nerves through the FP3 and the Quali. When Ollie finally got off the car when he scored the 11th place, missing Q2 only by 3 hundreds of a second, you knew that this was it. He was finally shining like the bright star he was. He had done more than enough, his raw talent showing with barely one hour to get used to the car. And as mechanics and reporters closed around him. You couldn't help but feel like you didn't belong here. Where did you fit in? The reality hit you and it hit you hard. You hid in the back corners of the garage, eyes glued to the screen as everyone passed by without acknowledging you. You would happily hide in the shadows where he shined but this world wasn't meant for you. The anxiety was picking up at you, eating you alive from the inside.

And when Ollie got too close to the wall, your heart stopped beating. He was driving a car that was twice as fast and twice as dangerous than his normal F2 car. It was too much. The sound, the danger, everything really. Breathing suddenly seemed so hard and you needed a way out. As you hide behind the garage you call the one person who could understand. Terri picks up in the second ring her soft voice already calming you.

“Hey love. Is everything alright?”

“How do you do it? How can you stand back and do nothing?”

“You love him, don't you sweetheart?”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“Well … no I always hoped but… whatever the case, to answer your question you simply do it, you just have to. A driver needs his support system and you are it for him. You are his forever person, whether that is romantically or not. He needs to be near you and as much nervous as you are, so is he. Without you he would be lost, believe me I know my son. And I can bet you that as much as your heart breaks right now, you are also immensely proud.”

“Of course I am. But where do I fit in, in this world.”

“Right beside him, love.”

“Thanks Terri. Please call David. I think he is losing his mind and he is sick with worry.” You say chuckling before saying your goodbyes and head back towards the garage. The session is already over and Ollie is nowhere in sight.

Ollie plays with the power button of his phone trying to calm down but to no avail. The lock screen is a photo of the two of you. It was last summer both your skins flushed and hair slightly wet and tangled. You both smile at the camera and your eyes look bright with happiness. He feels slightly lighter but he knows that there is an impending panic attack and so he turns to the one person who could help him in this situation.

"I got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "How are you doing?”

Ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. His eyes are stuck on the floor, his silence is defeaning. When he still doesn't answer, your heart rate picks up. Is something really wrong?

You make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before. Not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year, not when he was cheated out from the Formula 3 championship. Once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight.

"Ollie, talk to me," you plead, holding back the tears that starts to form on your eyes and threatento spill. It's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. Not now, not when he needs you this much.

"I'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "I'm so nervous, I don't know what to do."

It's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. Ollie, your usually so calm and collected best friend is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. He is a messy jumble of nerves.

"I get that. One hundred per cent. But.." your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "This is your dream. It's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance.”

"And it's not just any car, it's a Ferrari. Do you realize how cool that is? Do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" You smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. Even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous, not that you would ever tell him that. "You would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"But what if I ruin it?" His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "What if I go out there and I'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've made by even putting me in the academy? What if-"

"It won't happen." His eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "You're too good to do that. You'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

Finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. It's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "I'll try my best to make you proud."

“I'm always proud of you, you mufflehead.”

A laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. His heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second now. But his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter. And soon enough his heartbeat slows to normal.

“I bet that in twenty four hours not only will you finish the race, you will score points and beat Max Verstappen.”

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves” he says chuckling. “God, my neck is killing me.”

“Sit down. I've got you.” And so you start massaging his neck. It's stiff and hard under your hands and he lets a small groan as you untangle one of the knots that were quite painful. After a few minutes he is putty in your hands, his eyes closed, trusting you completely and feeling at ease for the first time in the past two days.

True to your world, Ollie crosses the finish line in seventh place, having gained points in his debut. But the one thing that kept him calm through the process was the thought that she was waiting for him in the cool down room. When the race finishes and drives the car back home he jumps from his seat and he can't get fast enough to her. People around him are praising him and congratulating him but they all fall to deaf eyes.

When he finally gets into the room to change into new fireproofs, she is patiently waiting for him. Her eyes are a little misty and her face flushed.

“I told you.”

“I didn't beat Max.”

“Still.”

She closes in on him and her hands are thrown around his neck, he reciprocates the hug immediately as his heart beat finally slows down. They doth draw away after a while only for him to dive back into her and kiss her firmly on the lips. Shock petrifies her and when he stops, he places his forehead on top of hers. He is a flustered mess and he is mumbling apologies, before she reconnects their lips.

For the following hours Ollie sports a shit-eating grin on his face. Everyone thinks that it is because of his amazing performance and not for kissing the girl that held his heart captive since they were five years old.

[madwomansapologist]

Hello!!! I was wondering if you could write headcannons of the BG3 companions and a dragon bloodline sorcerer tav? Especially their reactions to their more dragon like tendencies like hoarding things or their wings when they level up (draconic sorcerers get wings at lvl 14 table top and 11 in bg3 ) that would be great ❤️

bg3 companions with a draconic sorcerer!tav

Navigation | More Weirdos | AO3

synopsis: How would they react to their leader as a draconic sorcerer?

warnings: austim be danmed my girl can study about dragons (lae'zel).

note: that made me want to play as a draconic in the future. thanks for your request, i hope you like it!

Lae'zel

You got her attention immediately. All other races are as alien to a githyanki as themselfs are for those across Faêrun, but she knew a lot about draconics still. A interest of hers that she wasn't able of shutting down, don't matter how efficient and practical she achieved to be.

She always had a soft spot for dragons. A gith can't waste its time dreaming, but who can control it? She wanted so bad to be a dragon rider. When she learned there were races of people who descended from dragons, it was only natural she would want to learn about them.

Upon meeting you, part of her brain was just trying to analize. To learn from what type of dragon you descended. Her interest on you was purely academic.

She wondered if you had noticed how possessive you are. Lae'zel knows you're one of the most selfless people she ever met, the amount of times you lose something so someone could be safe... and still, you are so possessive.

You would kill Cazador with your bare hands and bring Astarion his head, but would never let him use one of your necklaces. Once she heard you hissing because he touched your things.

Exploring Baldur's Gate, everyone got stronger. When your wings evolved, Lae'zel seemed allured by them. So intricate and strong. Beautiful. A sign of your effort and talent. You deserved them.

"Just another proof of your strenght, zhak vo'n'ash duj. Our enemies will tremble before you. I already do."

Shadowheart

Something about you felt... familiar. Like she already knew you. Maybe she did. Or perhaps it was someone familiar. Maybe it was just the highs from being saved from a nautiloid. Still, Shadowheart couldn't help but to take a liking to you.

She never had a draconid friend, not that she remember at least, so it took her a bit to get used to the differences. It's impossible not to bring attention upon your group with your height and wide body. The teeth were certainly something she was highly aware.

Shadowheart thought it was enduring how you would always ended with the party's gold on your pockets. You say you will deal with the finances, and you really do that and do it well, but she knows mostly it's because you need to have it near you.

When your wings were strong enough, she would always find an excuse to hug you. It was so warm to feel your wings around her body. Shadowheart feels so save between your arms. So at peace.

"Before you I thought I knew what true embrace felt like. I was wrong. Thank you, my sweetest lover. For opening my eyes."

Astarion

Your size was intimidating. You could be an awful obstacle for his safety, but gladly you were kinder than Astarion could expect. You were way more than Astarion could ever expect.

After a while, it was interesting to learn more about you. So wide, and still so delicate. So scary, and yet so good. So moral, and yet so capable of violence.

For a draconic, it was a bit cliche that your go-to spells were fire ones. And he made sure to tell you that.

Once Astarion saw your wings, for some reason Astarion felt... proud. It just felt right for you to be rewarded after everything you did to them. To him. And it also made you look even more alluring.

"Another fireball, darling? Really? In this tiny room? Alright. Whatever feels right to you."

Gale

It was incrible to have another magic bender in the party! There are a few differences in styles and in the path you both want to go down, but at the end you both share the same goal.

Either as a student or as a natural vessel, the weave conects you both. It feels lovely to have someone who can see how the entire world moves because of it. To have someone to go for when doubts about new spells pop up, or that understands that he can't spend a long time in the battle field. Someone that just understands.

Gale was so curious about the limits of your body. Merely academic curiosity! He meet a few draconics before, but never he spend such a long time beside one.

It was mesmerizing to see you sleep in a nest. Not really one, but basically a nest. Everything looks so comfortable. So you. The best blankets, your favorite jewels, some gold.

Gale Dekarios is a student before all. And you quickly became his favorite subject.

"Don't they make you trip, my love? Ah, I see, your body was made for those, dare I say, beautiful pair of wings. If you ever feel the need to rest while you get used to them, just say the word."

Wyll

You weren't the first draconic Wyll befriended. Your race may be not so common in some parts of Faêrun, but he is not one to be surprised by your needs and habilities. Wyll is always ready to help you, don't matter what.

You need more space at camp, every armor needs to be wide enough to fit your wings, swords can't be tiny so your handle turns weak. Wyll is just waiting for you to need him so he may act.

The hoarding turned into a problem so quickly. Every damn thing "could be necessary". Forks? Rotten watermelons? Half-eaten apples??? And don't you try to say those are culture differences. Those are problems.

Once someone aimed at your wings during a fight. You barely were able to see the energy rays before their body burned to ashes.

"The Blade stands at your side, dear one. My duty is with your safety."

Karlach

Our girl on fire saw more dangerous things than a dragon's bloodline. Still, it was good to see a good fighter. She has the muscles, and you the brains. A perfect duo, one could say.

She thought was sweet your tendencies. How you wrap your tail around your companions that are being threatened. Or how the glow of jewels can make you break your neck just for a glance.

Karlach loves the fact you are also build bigher, just like her. It's good to not have to look down at someone, or to not break her back in a attempt to be at the same high as you.

She got so scared when your wings evolved. She didn't knew it was something that could happen to draconics that turned really strong. For a whole minute, she thought you went through some sort of body horror kinda of shit. She knows a lot about it, so it was really good to hear your explanation.

"Fucking gods, soldier! You almost lost me there. Thought my heart would fucking explode."

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

GENERAL TAGLIST: @lovelyy-moonlight

BALDUR’S GATE 3 TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[harmonicakai]

Be Around Me

Part 1 of the "Love is Embarrassing" series

Pairing: Gyuvin x Reader, Ricky x Reader (one-sided), Haobin crumbs, Jiwoong x Reader teeny tiny crumbs 

Summary: Gyuvin is the type of guy to get flustered over everything, but little does he know that you secretly think it makes him even cuter.

Tropes: basketball star!gyuvin, journalist!reader, college AU, basketball!zb1, frat!zb1, secret admirer, fluff, slow burn, crack, unrequited love, mutual pining, gyuvin is a LOSER

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Ricky is annoying lol, mentions of masturbation and sex (mdni!!!)

A/N: y’all will have pry zb1 college basketball au from my cold dead hands!!!!!!!! also for once in my life, y/n is not super insecure we cheered!!

FIC INSPIRED SPOTIFY PLAYLIST <3

“It's obvious she's so out of reach And I'm finding it hard 'cause She makes me feel, makes me feel Like I try, like I try, like I'm trying too hard” —Try Hard, 5 Seconds of Summer

On the court, Kim Gyuvin is the star player of the Wakefield Roses. With his long limbs, he handles the ball with ease, capturing the hearts of everybody in the crowd every time he grins after scoring a basket.

Off the court, he’s an awkward mess. Combine that with the fact that you, the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, are usually the one covering games for the school news, and he’s a goner.

As if it isn’t hard enough for him to make eye contact with the camera, he also has to make sure he doesn’t stare too hard at your shiny hair or glossy lips. His teammates would never let him live it down if he was caught being an absolute creep on video.

What started out as a little crush has grown into a deep admiration. He reads every article that you put out into the school newspaper, sometimes even cutting out the ones you’ve written about him and his team. Everybody makes fun of him for being too scared to just ask you out.

He’s never been one to flirt with girls, but the way you make conversations so easy during interviews, even when he’s stumbling over his words, makes him feel at ease around you. Still, he wonders how much of it is just your journalist persona versus you actually liking him.

Sharing a double with Ricky means he gets exiled a lot in the name of his roommate getting laid. Sometimes, you come back from getting your morning coffee and catch him sleeping on one of the lounge’s couches.

One morning, when your arms are full of pastries that you intend to hoard in your dorm for the upcoming week, you spot him curled up yet again on your way back to your room. 

Without much thought, you stop to leave a muffin and a little note next to it on the table in front of him, conveniently forgetting to sign your name.

It began with cutesy but vague things, like “breakfast for a champion,” but quickly escalated as soon as Gyuvin started leaving notes back for you. 

After a couple exchanges, he even wrote that you didn’t need to be leaving him food at all and that he just wanted to know who you were. Truthfully, you had a really big crush on Gyuvin, but didn’t everybody?

Despite being a bit camera shy, he was always so sweet before and after your interviews, doing his best to make small talk and smiling his smile that could make anybody swoon. 

Plus, you’ve seen how much more comfortable he is with other people, even the cheerleaders, who are all super pretty. He must just be really nice.

So, you continue to leave the notes unsigned, despite each one growing in flirtation. You like the thrill of being mysterious, but you’re mostly just scared of getting rejected since he’s never given you a reason to think he likes you back.

It isn’t until Ricky catches you one morning, a sly grin on his face when he sees you leaving a whole stack of notes on the table.

When you lock eyes with Gyuvin’s roommate, you know the jig is up. Surely, he’ll tell him it’s been you all along.

“Y/N,” Ricky nods when you approach him, his arms crossed. “I have to say, I had my suspicions.”

“Listen, Ricky, I would prefer if we could keep this between us.”

“Gyuvin’s been going on and on about some secret admirer for weeks now. It’s cruel that you won’t tell him who you are.”

“He’s welcome to stop writing back if he doesn’t want to,” you shrug, although it would probably devastate you if that actually happened.

“Oh, trust me, he wants to. Especially if he found out it was you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that every time he finishes an interview with you, he might always run home and lock himself in our bathroom because you get him so riled up. If you know what I mean.”

Your eyes go wide at the revelation. Ricky is surely just messing with you. “That’s—that’s not funny, Ricky. You shouldn’t joke about those kinds of things.”

“I’m not joking,” he chuckles. “Listen, Zeta Beta Omega is throwing a party tonight and the whole team will be there. You should come.”

“I don’t do parties,” you scoff. “Why would you even want me there?”

“Because maybe after a few drinks, you and Gyuvin won’t be so scared to tell each other how you feel. Then you guys can knock off this silly game and he can stop whining about not knowing who his mystery girl is.”

“And go back to whining about how all his roommate does is kick him out every night so he can fuck whoever he lays his eyes on?”

“Exactly. See, Y/N, you get me,” he practically purrs. “So, you show up looking all pretty and talk to my poor, lovesick roomie, and I won’t spill your little secret. Deal?”

“Ugh, fine, I guess. I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me. Deal.”

“Trust me, it’s for your own good, sweetheart.”

You cringe at the pet name. “Is this how you talk to everybody?”

“Yes. Why? Is it working? Are you going to start leaving me notes too?”

“Enjoy the rest of your morning, Ricky. I’ll see you later,” you say, walking past him. Even if he’s annoying, it’s genuinely impressive how he managed to brush off every insult you threw his way.

“See you, Y/N.” You don’t even have to look back at him to know that he winked as he said that.

—————-

Gyuvin knows that staying up all night waiting around for his mystery girl would be an invasion of privacy. At least he thinks the person who keeps leaving him baked goods and notes is a girl. Or maybe he’s just being hopeful that it’s you.

He’s never seen your handwriting before, but he’s been close enough to smell your perfume and he swears he can catch hints of it wafting off the sticky notes.

In fact, he’s started looking forward to Ricky kicking him out of their shared bedroom just because he knows he’ll be waking up to the sweetest surprise when he sleeps in the lounge.

Tonight’s party should be a good distraction from all of the wondering. Maybe, if he’s drunk enough, Ricky will be more embarrassing than alluring and Gyuvin will get to sleep in his own bed. Still, he can’t get this morning’s notes off his mind. 

You’ve left him clues, little doodles of your favorite things. Your coffee order, favorite color, favorite animal, and so on. He’s hoping you’ll be at tonight’s party so he can see if you mention any of the stuff drawn out, but you never show up to these kinds of things.

That was before Ricky got involved. You stood outside the ZBO frat house wearing your worst sneakers and a baby pink minidress, as suggested by one of your suitemates.

If only you didn’t show up by yourself. There were a few familiar faces from class, and of course, the entire basketball team, but nobody you were really friends with. All you could focus on was how sticky the floor was and how much you needed a drink.

“Hi,” you say, finally making your way over to the bartender. It’s the team’s captain, Hanbin. “Just give me whatever tastes the best.”

“One rum punch it is,” he smiles, his whisker dimples making your heart flutter. Why was everybody on the team good looking? “Y/N, right?”

“Yep,” you say, taking the plastic cup from him. “You’re Hanbin. You know, I’ve been meaning to interview you, but you always seem so busy with other things at games.”

“Don’t worry about it. It wouldn’t be nearly as cute as when you interview Gyuvin,” he laughs, eyeing the line of guests waiting for their drinks. “I’ve got a job to do, but I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Thanks for the drink,” you say, holding it up in a sort of cheer before walking away. You take a sip and savor its sweetness, the liquor’s flavor blending in perfectly to the juice. Hanbin’s words stick with you. Were you and Gyuvin cute together?

Sure, he’s so tall that he practically towers over you, but he refuses to ever make eye contact and always keeps his replies so short and polite. Then again, he sure seems to write a lot in the notes that he doesn’t know are going to you.

For a second, you start to consider that you might actually have a chance with him, until you spot him with a beautiful girl touching his arm and whispering something in his ear. Before you can mope for too long, someone is tapping you on the shoulder.

“There you are,” a familiar voice calls over the music. You turn to see Ricky grinning at you, his hair looking almost white under the lights. “You look good.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest to prevent him from checking you out any further. He glances past you at his roommate.

“Don’t worry about her,” he assures you. You don’t know whether or not to believe him. “Gyuvin has never taken a girl home from these parties, let alone kissed one.”

That’s a relief. “Don’t you have a hook-up to hunt down?” you ask Ricky. He cocks an eyebrow at you, sipping his drink.

“Oh, Y/N. I keep my girls on speed dial,” he chuckles. You cringe at his playboy persona and for once in his life, Ricky is embarrassed. He shuts his mouth, hoping you can’t see him blush.

“Wow,” you say, tilting your head at him. “Don’t tell me young and rich, tall and handsome Shen Ricky can actually feel shame. I really wish I had a cameraman with me right now.”

“Like I said, it works on most people,” he attempts to reason. “You’re just immune to my charms, I guess.”

“Guess so,” you smirk, downing the rest of your drink. You glance behind your shoulder to see Gyuvin still talking to that girl, then back at Ricky, who’s deep in thought.

“Do you want to meet the rest of the team?” he asks, surprising you. You give a slight nod, and that’s all he needs to see before grabbing your wrist and pulling you through the crowd.

At first, Ricky lingers as you make small talk with Matthew, Taerae, and Gunwook, and explains to you that Yujin is actually at home because he’s still in high school. You feel like a horrible journalist—have you been so preoccupied with Gyuvin that you didn’t notice there was a literal child on the team?

By now, Ricky’s abandoned you to go find something, or someone, more entertaining. He’s dropped you off with Jiwoong, the oldest player, who is as aloof as he is annoyingly handsome. The way he eyes you makes your stomach do cartwheels, and you’ve had enough to drink that you can’t see the harm in flirting with a cute boy.

He’s spewing some bullshit about meditating when you cut him off. “I like your hair,” you blurt out, catching him off guard. He turns and smiles at you for the first time since you started talking.

“You do?” he asks, running a hand through it. “I think it’s a little long. I might get a haircut soon.”

“Keep it like that,” you say, not taking your eyes off of him. “It looks good.”

Jiwoong is grinning now, but he remembers that you’re Gyuvin’s crush, and it would be totally wrong to kiss you no matter how badly he wants to. He eyes the crowd, searching for someone to save him from the tension. 

“Hao!” he says, grabbing a boy passing by and pulling him into the conversation. He looks familiar, but he’s certainly no basketball player. “Y/N, this is Zhang Hao. He’s our equipment manager. I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

“Hi, Y/N,” Hao says, clearly caught off guard. “You’re the one who does the interviews, right?”

“That’s me,” you confirm. Jiwoong’s departure right when you thought he was going to kiss you was beyond bizarre. “I didn’t realize how many people knew me.”

“You’re basically a celebrity to the team,” Hao laughs. “They all think you’re pretty.”

“Makes sense,” you smile, sipping on your third drink of the night. “I am, in fact, very pretty.”

“Agreed. So, which one do you have your eye on?” he asks, leaning in to hear you better. “Or should I guess?”

“Go ahead and guess,” you say, eager to know what he thinks.

Hao takes a second to gather his thoughts. “Well, it’s clear that you’re into Gyuvin based on the way you giggle at his seriously unfunny jokes, but you were also just eye fucking Jiwoong. Then again, wasn’t Ricky dragging you around earlier by the hand?”

“By the wrist,” you correct him. “And yes, I do like Gyuvin. But he’s been talking to some other girl the whole night.”

“He only has eyes for you,” Hao says immediately. This is the second time you’ve heard this tonight, but the first where it’s coming from a trustworthy source.

“And you?” you ask in return, shifting the conversation onto him. “Which one do you have a crush on?”

Hao’s eyes widen. “I–I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not—I don’t—”

“Hao,” you cut him off. “You’ve glanced at Hanbin at least six times since this conversation started.”

He swallows, knowing he’s been caught. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

“We talk all the time,” Hao mutters, looking down at his shoes. “I’m basically his personal assistant.”

“Do you talk about anything other than basketball?”

“No.”

“Do you even like basketball?”

“...No.”

“Hao,” you say, gripping him by the shoulders and turning him towards the drink station. “Go over there and get your man.”

—————-

As if it weren’t enough of a shock to Gyuvin that you actually showed up to a ZBO party, he’s had to spend all night watching you chat up the entire team except for him. 

They’ve no doubt let it slip to you that he has the biggest crush on you on campus, maybe even the entire world. But he’s way too nice to tell one of his classmates, who attends every game just to hold up a sign with his name on it, that he isn’t interested. 

That’s how he ended up nursing his drink with a tight lipped smile, listening to what’s-her-name ramble on about things that would be more interesting to probably anybody else, all while keeping an eye on you as you bounce around the party.

Your interaction with Jiwoong made him jealous beyond belief, and he makes a mental note that while he’s made his crush on you very clear to his teammates, you’re technically not his and free to flirt with whoever you want.

He watches as you grasp Hao and shake him, muttering some words of encouragement before sending him over to the bar. Finally, you’re alone again. It’s now or never.

“I have to go walk my dog,” Gyuvin lies, not even bothering to let the poor girl react before making his way over to you. You’re wearing pink, his secret admirer’s favorite color. Surely, it’s not just a coincidence. 

“Y/N,” he says a little too loud, startling you. You jump, accidentally knocking yourself into him. Both of your drinks go flying and suddenly, you’re covered in sticky red liquid. 

At this point, Gyuvin might as well just die alone. How did he manage to only spill his drink on you and not himself? He peers down at you, guilt written all over his face, as you take in what’s just happened.

“Here,” he says, reaching into his hoodie’s pocket and pulling out wadded tissues. “They’re clean, I promise. I have, uh, I’ve got allergies, so I carry around a ton.” 

He unfolds one and gently pats the liquid off of you without so much of a second thought. Your silence makes him panic even more, and he’s so focused on drying you off that he doesn’t even notice he’s basically rubbing the tissue on your cleavage.

Gyuvin freezes once he finally notices where his hand is, immediately pulling away and putting a good distance between the two of you. “I am so sorry. Holy shit, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not a pervert! Please don’t think I’m a pervert.”

“Gyuvin,” you finally say, your voice just as sweet as always. He’s pacing as much as he can with everybody packed in so tightly, his long legs taking tiny steps. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re a pervert.”

He stops and looks down at you. “Really? You’re not just saying that?”

“Really,” you reassure him. “Although I might think you’re a klutz. Who knew Wakefield’s star basketball player was so clumsy off the court?”

“Technically, you bumped into me,” he asserts, his smile returning. “But you’re also the one who got soaked, so let’s just call things even.”

“Deal,” you agree. Sure, it’s fun when boys are obviously flirting with you, but the way Gyuvin has no clue what he’s doing is just so charming. It feels natural when you’re with him, a nice departure from the overused pickup lines and generic compliments that are usually thrown your way.

Gyuvin takes in your stained dress, the red punch seeping into the pink fabric like blood. You look straight out of a horror movie. 

“Here,” he says, shrugging off his varsity jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before taking in the sight of you. “Wow. You look so…”

“Silly?” you answer, the expanse of material wrapped around you like a tent. 

“Cute. You look so cute.” Gyuvin meets your eyes for a split second before looking away again, his ears now feeling even hotter than when he saw you with Jiwoong. “I can get you a new shirt, if you want. My room isn’t far from here.”

“You want me to go with you to your room?” you giggle, enjoying how flustered you make him. Hearing his teammates talk about how much he likes you has taken a weight off your shoulders, and you don’t know how you ever thought he wasn’t into you before.

“No! Well, yes, but only if you want to. And I’m not using this as an excuse to bring you back to my room. I just know you like pink and I have this one pink shirt that shrunk in the wash and I think you’d look really good in it. Plus, I can start a load of laundry and get your dress all clean.”

This is the most you’ve ever heard him talk, his voice a few pitches higher than usual when he’s rambling. Plus, if he knows how much you like pink, he must be following your clues. “Let’s go to your room, then.” 

—————-

While Gyuvin’s side of the room is much neater than you expected, Ricky’s side looks weirdly perfect. Not a single thing is out of place, with every item labeled or color coordinated. You’re shocked that two basketball players can manage to keep such a small room so tidy.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” Gyuvin apologizes, moving to make his bed. “You can sit here.” 

“If this is what you think is messy, you don’t want to see my room,” you say, taking in all of the decorations. Usually, when you’re in a guy’s room, it’s all navy blue and manly movie posters, but Gyuvin’s walls are so colorful and covered in photos of his family and friends. 

One piece of paper catches your eye—the very first article you wrote about the basketball team. You scan his wall, catching more and more newspaper clippings, all penned by you. Gyuvin’s too busy putting things away and rustling through his drawers to notice you staring at them in awe.

“Here we go,” he calls out, turning and holding up a shrunken pink t-shirt and a pair of sweats. His grin fades as soon as he catches you reading one of your own articles, which have been on his wall for so long that he’s forgotten they’re even there. “Oh. Uh, please don’t think I’m a creep.”

“It’s not creepy. It’s sweet. They’re all about you, anyway,” you say, turning to take the shirt from him. It has a picture of a silly looking greyhound on the front of it.

“Right,” Gyuvin says, shrugging off the interaction. He pulls himself onto the bed next to you, sitting cross legged and making sure to leave a gap between you and him. “That’s my dog, Eumppappa.” 

“Eumppappa is an amazing name,” you muse, turning to smile at him. Your faces end up being so close that Gyuvin thinks his heart has stopped beating. In his attempt to scoot back, he ends up tumbling off of his bed.

“Fuck,” he says as he lands on the ground. You peer down from the lofted bed at his long limbs sprawled across the rug. If you didn’t think he was a complete loser before, you probably do now.

“Are you okay?” you call out, watching as he sits up and rubs his head.

“I’m good,” Gyuvin assures you, taking a breather before getting to his feet and heading towards the door. “I’m going to step out and let you change. Let me know when you’re decent.”

“Will do,” you smile, giving him a thumbs up. You strip your clothes off, throwing on the t-shirt and sweats and pulling the drawstring until you know they won’t fall off of you. “You can come back in, Gyuvin!”

He stumbles in, practically waiting with his body pressed against the door for the moment he could see you again. God, could you really not tell how much he liked you before tonight?

Gyuvin eyes you drowning in his clothes and he knows that he’d move earth and heaven if it meant that you’re who he got to wake up to for the rest of his life. 

“I’ll go throw this in the washer and then we can head back to the party,” he stammers, snapping out of his daydream and grabbing your dress. Your smile is so pretty right now, even after all of his awkwardness, that it takes everything in him not to get hard just looking at you.

By the time he gets back from the laundry room, you’ve decided you don’t want to go back to the party, especially not dressed like this.

“Oh,” Gyuvin says, disappointed that his time with you has been cut short by his clumsiness. “Do you want me to walk you back to your place?”

“I live down the hall,” you remind him. You hope he doesn’t realize you could’ve just as easily grabbed your own change of clothes.

“Right,” he grimaces. He knows that. He’s always trying to time leaving his room perfectly so that he runs into you on the way to class.

Just like whenever you interview Gyuvin, there’s an awkward silence, except this time it can’t be edited out. He’s back to looking everywhere in the room except at you.

“It’s not even midnight,” you say, glancing at your phone’s lockscreen. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Like, together?” Gyuvin asks in disbelief. You nod, an amused smirk on your face. “Duh, of course you meant together. Yeah, sure, let’s watch a movie.”

Moments later, you’re sitting in the dark with Gyuvin, your legs pulled close to your chest as you watch Amélie projected onto the wall above Ricky’s bed. 

Every once in a while, Gyuvin lets himself relax, his arm or his leg brushing against you by accident. After spending half of the film pulling away out of fear that he’s bothering you, he finally settles for having his fingers barely touching yours. 

“You know,” he starts, his eyes still locked on the movie. “I kind of have my own mystery going on right now.”

“Really?” you say, feigning shock. “About what?”

“Someone keeps leaving me notes when I sleep in the lounge. Sometimes treats, but mostly notes. They don’t sign their name, but today they left me some little doodles as clues and I’ve been trying to figure them out.”

The way you’re reacting makes his stomach turn. How could it be you when you have a look on your face that says you have no clue what he’s talking about?

“Well, I’ve been meaning to work on my investigative journalism. What if I helped you track your secret admirer down?”

If you aren’t going to fall for him, he’ll at least settle for being friends. “That’d be awesome, Y/N.” 

Suddenly, Ricky comes crashing into the dorm room, his lips attached to some girl’s face. He pulls away from her for a second, barely registering that you’re even there, before pulling out his wallet and throwing a couple hundred dollar bills at Gyuvin. “Get out. Now.”

Before you can protest, Ricky’s already unbuttoning his shirt, and you’ll gladly evacuate if it means you don’t have to watch whatever freaky shit is about to go down.

“I didn’t know he pays you to sleep in the lounge,” you laugh, your arms full of Gyuvin’s comforter as you walk down the hall. “With that kind of money, he could just buy an apartment.”

“He could,” Gyuvin starts, holding his pillow in one hand and the stack of notes—your notes—in the other. “But then he wouldn’t get the true college experience. Plus, he only throws money at me when it’s a last minute thing.”

“How much was that, anyway? Like $300?” you ask. He stops and takes out his wallet.

“$400. Pretty standard,” he shrugs, counting the bills. Your eyes widen at the total.

“Are you going to share?” you pout. “I got kicked out too.”

“You can have it,” he says, handing you the money, his brain short circuiting at the way you bat your eyelashes at him. You marvel at the crisp bills. “This is just another Friday night for me.”

“Okay, young and rich, tall and handsome Kim Gyuvin. Thanks for buying my dinner for the rest of the semester!” You don’t know this, but if you asked him to, Gyuvin would buy you whatever you wanted.

Before you can get down to helping him figure out the doodles, or throwing him off your trail, the two of you are fast asleep. Instead of the lounge’s couch, Gyuvin curls up on the oversized bean bag on your bedroom floor. It’s much too small for his frame to actually be comfortable, but he somehow feels more content just being around you.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @theresawtf @nerezza123 @gyvnexe @xiurmy-everything @wollycobbl3-blr @cloudgyubi @yunnie-11 @wheatrice

[ineffable-endearments]

Aziraphale's Entire Bookshop Is A Trauma Reenactment

This essay got so complicated. The main point is that Aziraphale's bookshop is a trauma reenactment and that's why he had to give it up.

This post of mine recently got a bunch of notes and I'm so glad people have liked it. For the unfamiliar: the gist is that Aziraphale wants. He wants books, he wants Crowley - but he can't let himself just desire things for their own sake or for his; he'll only allow himself to have what he wants if it serves a greater purpose. That's why Aziraphale has a shop full of books instead of just a collection of books. That's why Aziraphale always has some scheme for Crowley to get involved in.

However, I think that underneath the "purpose" of selling books and participating in the local economy, the shop has another purpose that Aziraphale hasn't faced. Instead of rewriting this, I'll partially copy over something I wrote after Season 1 and before we even knew Season 2 was a thing:

Aziraphale’s squirreling away of old books and erroneous Bibles, his hoarding of humanity’s misguided attempts at prophecy…he is roleplaying his relationship with Heaven, but with himself in a position of power. He’s gathering Knowledge and keeping it a secret while knowing all along that it’s inaccurate, so in that way, he is a lot like his superiors and God. Crucially, he gets to role play the entity powerful enough to have, but not share, his knowledge.

Note that also, in this scenario, the misprinted Bibles and vague or incorrect prophecies are highly prized. They are Aziraphale's favorites - just as you'd expect for a being who knows he's not what an angel is supposed to be but is desperately hoping God will favor him for exactly that reason.

So. The bookshop is a reenactment of Aziraphale's trauma in the same way that yelling at plants is a reenactment of Crowley's trauma. In both cases, the two of them are identifying with both their abusers and themselves. Crowley recognizes that his abusers are malicious and have only their own motivations, no drive toward the "greater good." That's why it's a sign of healing that he has started showing more attachment to his plants in Season 2 and seems to be treating them better: he is no longer acting the part of his own abuser.

Aziraphale is, despite his conscious efforts, still identifying with Heaven. Through his bookshop, he is trying to act like he thinks Heaven should, preserving (his books) and protecting (his books, Jim, Crowley) and orchestrating Good (the whole Ball fiasco). And each of these behaviors is for a Great Plan: running a bookshop, solving a mystery, throwing a ball. Everything he does has to align with a higher purpose, a grand scheme of some kind. Otherwise, how is he going to take on Heaven's role and do it better?

It's a twisted way of trying to make things right. Heaven has failed at its job. It's supposed to be the ultimate Good, but it hasn't been. Even in the Final 15 minutes when Aziraphale says "It's the side of truth, of light, of good," I'm more than convinced he's saying that because he wants it to be so rather than because he's sure of it. (Someone else pointed out this possibility, but it was many posts back and I'm not sure who. If I find the post again, I'll link it here.)

Aziraphale is stuck in a pattern of trying to play the role Heaven failed at. To be clear, this role is "motivating humans to do Good and keeping it all (the universe) running."

...But nobody should be doing Heaven's job. Nobody should be "orchestrating Good," not by trying to control other people. Nobody should be making grand plans for the universe. People should be allowed to just live out their lives.

I want to add, in case it's not obvious, that this is not a conscious process. With human beings, it typically is not. And as other people have pointed out, Aziraphale is smart, which is why he can end up in these patterns in the first place: he's good at rationalizing!

While his need for control is intensely unhealthy, it's reasonable that he would have ended up here. Aziraphale has never been in control in his entire existence. That's Heaven's form of abuse. I mean, I start having an existential crisis when I don't feel like I can say "no" often enough at work - I can't imagine being created with the same amount of free will but denied the knowledge to make any choices for millions of years.

(That's also where some of his most infuriating behavior comes from - another way of trying to exert control is through acceptance: to just insist on being happy even when things are obviously wrong. God is cruel? There must be a good reason we don't understand. Armageddon is coming? Well, it will all be lovely afterward, of course. The Metatron is being really persistent about trying to get me back in Heaven? That's great, actually! Now I can make a difference! Neil has commented that Aziraphale's favorite song with lyrics is "Spread A Little Happiness." Look up the lyrics. They are all about simply denying bad feelings.)

You know how we've observed that the bookshop is painted in Crowley's colors? And how Aziraphale left both of them behind at the end of the season? Well, also consider how Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship pattern has become unhealthy and codependent - Aziraphale genuinely loves Crowley, but the only model of love he's had in his own personal experience, outside of fiction, is this weird power-control thing Heaven has going on.

He needs to break out of the control pattern before he can admit that he loves books and Crowley for what they are.

This is why I think the definition of "goodness" isn't necessarily Aziraphale's final final boss. The narrative could go that way. But I have a strong feeling his final boss will have to involve control.

When people wonder "Why is it taking so long for Aziraphale to figure out that Heaven is bad," my personal suggestion is that good intentions are a red herring for both the audience and for Aziraphale himself. He needs to stop believing that Heaven's job is necessary at all. He needs to see that the whole existence of the institution is a problem, not merely the management. No, not even the really bad management.

On one hand, Aziraphale needs to figure out the same things that Adam Young figured out - that existence is meaningless when people don't get to make their own choices; there's no point in having friends who can't talk back, and there's no point in making people's decisions for them. It's very honorable to want to truly do Good. But you can't do it through control. Even if you completely ignore the moral issues with controlling people, it simply does not produce a worthwhile result.

Aziraphale technically knows all this already. He knows people need to have choices. He knows choices hold no meaning unless people make them freely. He just hasn't grasped that Heaven is, at best, creating unnatural consequences for people. Heaven itself is getting in the way of that ability to choose.

On the other hand, Aziraphale needs to figure out that he CAN make his own choices. He doesn't need Crowley to dance him into the right decision, and he doesn't need God to tell him what to do. Aziraphale has already done some of this in the past, under extreme pressure. He needs to get more comfortable with it. I think his realizations about control will help this part fall into place. Realizing that Heaven's role is a problem can more easily cascade into a healthier notion of his own boundaries - choices that are his and choices that are other people's.

Giving up the bookshop is actually a step toward healing because Aziraphale is stepping up to see the inner workings of his abusive institution head-on instead of reenacting the abusive actions with his bookshop, his neighbors, and Crowley. We know that in reality, people don't get over trauma thanks to one event, but for the sake of the story, realizing that individual or institutional control is not the way to Goodness might just be the breakthrough Aziraphale needs.

And then he can stop feeling compelled to put the things he loves through Great Plans in order to spend time with them, and he can simply love them, hopefully in a cottage where no one ever tries to buy books from him and Crowley will sleep soundly every night.

How this will come about in Heaven is anyone's guess. I think it might, again, happen the same way it happened for Adam Young: with Aziraphale getting his way only to realize it's not what he wants.

Of course, the bookshop deserves to live on. It was a safe place for so long. Like all of Aziraphale and Crowley's other respective coping mechanisms, it offered protection and comfort, and it's become an inspiration to Muriel.

That's why I have a strong feeling Muriel is going to formally inherit the bookshop - with Aziraphale's full permission and enthusiasm, for keeps, not as a coerced posting by an authority figure. I may be getting ahead of myself, what with the enormity of what has to happen first, but it feels right.

[leighsartworks216]

In Your Silence (I Hear You)

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Requested by @ghulehh666:

"Just had this idea for so long in my head, basically astarion x tav(gn). Tav is really antisocial, never visits tavern or such, and prefers to stay somewhere quiet and alone or with Astarion. When they have to talk, their ability to speak sometimes randomly locks out and doesn’t know what to say."

I know you said antisocial but I kinda went further and made it more social anxiety or autism-coded

Also I still have not played the game or seen much gameplay so some things may be inaccurate and stuff

Warnings: going through a busy crowd, brief mention of nails digging into skin, some sensory issues (touch, sound)

Word Count: 1,287

Masterlist

AO3

You were holding on for dear life. Your arms curled tightly around Astarion’s, eyes scanning every which-a-way. Unfortunately, this was a rather common occurrence.

Before all this, you kept to yourself. Perhaps to an extreme. You avoided going outside, you didn’t speak to anyone for as long as you could help it, and you were quite happy like this. Dealing with other people was always a headache, and never near worth it, but staying alone? The only person you could be irritated with was yourself.

And then you got kidnapped. And somehow, somehow everyone chose you as the one to save the world. You couldn’t stay alone anymore. Too much was at stake. But sometimes it was all too much. Too loud, too demanding, too… everything.

Astarion didn’t know what to make of you upon first meeting. He’d assumed you were working with the damn Illithid, but when he insisted you just kept shaking your head. Truly, he’d have thought you were mute, if he’d not seen you talking with the damned creatures. Now that it’s been weeks, he knew you better than the rest. After all, it was his tent you ran to when you needed quiet, and, even more than that, it was him you trusted to find your voice when you couldn’t.

That’s how you ended up in this bustling market street, clinging to him as he smoothly guided you through swaths of people. He was used to navigating crowds. His eyes sought out slightly-more-open gaps and he’d be able to slip through with no issues. Alone, that is. With you, the strategy was a little different. Not only did he have to get himself through, but you as well. He could only imagine what the weaving pattern he took to find even-more-open gaps in the sea of people looked like from above.

The street never seemed to end. More and more people entered from either end. Stall owners barked out calls to potential customers. Everyone was shoving to get where they needed to go. Astarion was tired of it. The only reason you’d turned down here was to find one specific stall for some spices Gale wanted. He’d stopped looking for the stall long ago, leaving that task to you.

Toward the end of the street, though still quite far from any freedom, you squeezed his arm and planted your feet. He stopped immediately. Your eyes were set on one of the stalls - a table filled with handfuls of herbs, small bundles of them tied together with string. He sighed through his nose. Gale better damn well be happy for all the trouble this is.

Astarion placed a hand over yours on his arm, searching for any opening in the river of people going around you both. He could feel the anxiety radiating from you the longer it took. As soon as there was even a hint of a gap, he pulled you through.

Trying to walk through the hoard rather than with it was a nightmare. You were jostled and bumped into by everyone. Astarion wanted to switch you to his other side to act as a human shield, but doing so risked losing you to the flood. And when you finally got through, finally standing in front of the one stall you came here for, you felt it. Like a switch, your throat felt leaden. Your vocal chords were heavy. It seems preserving your voice for this moment did not help at all.

“Hi! Welcome, welcome! What can I get for you today?” the stall-keeper beckoned. Astarion had to fight to keep his eyes from rolling. All traders were always too cheery, overacting as they tried to play nice to convince you to buy more.

The vampire turned his focus to you. You still held onto his arm, but it was a little more relaxed. Your nails weren’t digging into his arm, at least. (You always apologized profusely when your voice came back, even when he brushed off your concerns of hurting him or, worse, being a nuisance.) You searched the table, eyes roaming stacks of small spices and bundles of large herbs. Astarion had no idea exactly what Gale’d asked for. He trusted you remembered.

A moment passed, and then you were pointing at a small cloth bag, round and full. The attendant lit up. “That’s our special blend! It contains all you need for any meal! Just one pinch and your mouth will thank you for it!” When they said the price, Astarion saw you retreating in on yourself. It was a lot to ask for one small sachet, though it looked like it would last several weeks if conserved properly.

Before you could even formulate an apology to Gale for his damn herbs and spices being too gods damned expensive, Astarion was pulling out his coin purse and counting out the gold. “We’ll take one.”

The attendant picked up the sachet by its drawstrings and plopped it into your hesitant hand. You squeezed his arm - you didn’t like that he was paying for it. He handed over the money, and pulled you back into the throng of people.

It wasn’t long before you were at the end of the street and being tugged along to a quiet side-road as there was no longer a need to slow down to glance at each stall. As soon as the people thinned out to a manageable level, you let go of his arm and reached for your own coin purse.

“Please, love, you don’t need to pay me back.” He covered your hand holding the purse, preventing you from opening it. “Besides, I will be more than happy to discuss repayment with the Wizard.”

You gave him a disapproving look. He just rolled his eyes.

“Was acting quickly to get you out of that mess as soon as possible not what you wanted?”

You glared harder. “Don’t twist it,” you muttered. The weight was still there, but being out of the crowd had helped enough. Though, it seemed heavier now that you have spoken… Damn.

He chuckled airily. “Hate to admit I was working outside of my own self-interests for once?” You raised a brow at him. “Well, aside from having Gale in my pocket, until he compensates me for the loss.”

You huffed and put your coin purse away, tucking the sachet away in the process. Your hand found his arm immediately after. He didn’t even react as you gripped onto the fabric of his sleeve. At first, he’d been a bit scandalized, complaining that you’d wrinkle it or pull at the embroidery. He almost… enjoyed it. The simple act of keeping each other close, relying on him to act as an anchor. It felt nice to be needed.

He noticed before you that your feet were beginning to drag. The sole of your boots scraped on the street every couple steps, not to mention how you slowed down ever so slightly. He smiled knowingly, resting his hand over yours on his arm once more. It was reminiscent of nobles strolling along, prim and proper.

“Come on, dear,” he encouraged smoothly. “Once we return I can read that mystery novel to you.”

You grabbed onto his arm with your other hand, pulling yourself closer to rest your head against him. You had a tired little smile on your face. How unfortunate such outings were so much on their leader. He’d probably get two lines in before you passed out in his mess of pillows.

“Though, it is rather obvious who the culprit is.”

You pinched his arm.

“No, my being a magistrate has nothing to do with it,” he chastised. “It’s hardly my fault I’m more observant than you, dear.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest Seven Deadly Sins pop-up event.

Some Real Good

Prompt: Gluttony | Word Count: 1313 | Rating: T | CW: Alcohol Consumption | POV: Gareth | Relationship(s): Gareth & Eddie BFFs, Background Steddie | Tags: Corroded Coffin on Tour, Bus Travel, Road Manager Steve Harrington, Eddie: The Magpie, Gareth & Steve: Who Love Him Anyway

"What do you have in here, bricks?" Gareth asks, picking up one of Eddie's duffle bags, trying to wrangle it up into the open storage bin under the bus. It's not easy. For some reason Eddie's stuffed the fucker completely full today, and it's unwieldy.

"Yep. And sex toys," Eddie quips, and Gareth rolls his eyes. Unfortunately, Gareth knows that's not where Eddie keeps all the dirty shit he travels with. Because Gareth's seen it all, even if he wishes otherwise.

Eddie finally gets it wedged underneath, and they can roll out.

Meaning, Gareth forgets about the overfilled luggage, until the same thing happens at the next stop. It's definitely not going under there this time, because Gareth swears it's getting bulkier by the stop. 

Eddie's trying to re-zip the damn thing after rearranging, and it's clearly not going well. 

Gareth moves to squeeze both sides together so Eddie can zip it easier, when he catches sight of what's inside. 

"What the fuck?" Gareth says, letting go and picking up a travel size bar of soap, surely from one of the many hotel rooms they've stayed in. He digs his hand in, combing through the mess of small, plastic bottles. It's filled to the absolute brim with travel toiletries, and a variety of shit from green rooms. Mini liquor bottles from airplanes.

Eddie snatches the bag back from Gareth's hands, "They're free. We're supposed to take them." 

"No, we're supposed to use them if we need them. Which I know you don't. I've seen your bathroom bag."

It's definitely fully stocked.

"Well, someday I might need them," Eddie argues.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie. No you won't. This is insane, even for you."

Eddie's part magpie, they all know that, but this is a bridge too far.

"You never know," Eddie says, like he's being sane and rational. He's being neither.

"How is this - you - hoarding them under the bus any better than just leaving them behind? They still aren't being used, Eddie. And now we're just the ones lugging them around."

"I want them," Eddie argues and Gareth's hands find his own hair, pulling. Eddie can rarely be rationalized with on a good day, but this is beyond. 

"You will never need these. We can buy shampoo and soap. We do buy shampoo and soap. In appropriate quantities and in brands we actually like. You damn well know Steve has never once let any of us run out. The minute I toss an empty, a new one magically appears. Which, awesome. But also scary, because that means your boyfriend knows far too much about what I do in the bathroom."

Eddie smiles, but then is clearly headed back towards making excuses for his insane life decisions. His gluttony. His hoarding. 

"But-" 

Gareth pivots. He might not be able to reason with a crazy Eddie, but he knows someone who can, does, "Does Steve know about this? Because he's gonna shit."

And he will. Steve doesn't stand for superfluous anything on the road. He has everything down to a science. Last week he even made Gareth get rid of one of his jackets, because he'd apparently crossed the threshold of the acceptable amount of luggage, at least as far as Steve was concerned. 

Gareth liked that jacket.

So, Eddie squirreling away all the soap he can carry for no damn good reason? Not efficient in the slightest. Steve can't know about this, and he's gonna be pissed when he finds out. For sure.

"Just help me unload it," Eddie demands, and before he can ask what he means by that, Eddie slides forward the sticker-laden dead with the warped lid. Instead of tossing it, Goodie wants it fixed, so it's been taking up space, but when Eddie flips it open, it's absolutely jam-packed with more of his secret stash. 

"Oh my god. Wait, is this a growing up poor thing?" Gareth asks, and Eddie pauses. Gareth never wanted for anything. It may have just been the two of them, but Mama Jones had it under control.

If this is that, well, maybe Gareth could understand. Could give him a pass.

Eddie gives him a withering look, saying, "No. Wayne would hate this, too."

"Then why are you doing it? Damn," Gareth asks, laughing.

"Because we paid for it. And they just throw them away if we don't take them."

"That's crazy talk," Gareth answers.

"They do! And it's built into the price. Of the hotel rooms. The flights. The gig contracts."

"Eddie," Gareth says, then changes tactics. "Fine. I'm sure that's true. But, just. Move. Let me," Gareth says, nudging Eddie off to the side. "Get on the bus."

And somehow, Eddie listens, and does.

When Steve sidles up to him, and sees the red milk crates surrounding Gareth's feet in the hotel parking lot, Gareth sorting the loot, he's instantly irritated, "What're you doing? What's all this doing here?" Steve asks, arms waving. "For fuck's sake, Gareth, what have you been taking all this shit for? Do you know how much this extra weight affects gas mileage?"

And Steve seems to be doing that math in his head.

Gareth grinds his teeth together, "This was not me. This was Eddie."

"Oh," Steve says. Immediately changing his tune, softening, which is fucking annoying. Eddie would never have to get rid of a jacket.

Steve then asks, "What's the plan?"

Gareth nudges the crate full of liquor bottles, and they all clink together, "Day drinking?"

Steve puts his hands on his hips. 

Gareth picks up the one full of shampoo, "I was thinking about donating them to a homeless shelter or something. My mom volunteers at one back home. Says they always needed stuff like this. Eddie hoarding them isn't helping anyone, it's just as wasteful as leaving them to be tossed, right?"

And Steve pauses. Thinking.

"You can't donate liquor to the homeless," Steve says.

And Gareth laughs, "Well, I didn't mean the liquor. That we'll keep. Have some fun. I'm gonna deserve a drink or ten after sorting out this mess your boyfriend has made."

"Oh, he's my boyfriend when you don't like whatever he's doing, but your best friend any other time?"

Gareth laughs, and nudges against Steve's shoulder, "Exactly."

"Alright," Steve concedes.

Great. Awesome. Gareth had the idea, the plan, but he definitely needs Steve to be the one to figure out how to implement it.

And Steve does.

From then on, the sorted milk crates live in the under bus storage compartment. And now it's not just Eddie, no, now all of them save and throw their unused freebies into the correct ones after each stop. Soap. Shampoo. Conditioner. Lotion. And if they ask the front desk for toothbrushes or razors that they've forgotten from time to time, well, then that's their own business. 

And yeah, the liquor they keep for themselves. But they don't let it languish, hidden away. Instead they drink it, doing shots, playing cards as they rumble down the highway, getting tipsy as they cheat more and more blatantly at cards the drunker they get. It's fun. 

When a crate of toiletries gets full, Steve has a plan, a connection, of where they can donate it, wherever they currently are in the country.

It really doesn't take long for word to spread, and then there's a charitable foundation with a damn good purpose bearing Corroded Coffin's name, and several other touring bands helping. Reaching out to Steve. Their reputation precedes them: they're the heavy metal band that gives back. That they don't destroy hotel rooms, just rescue the toiletries from them that were destined for a landfill anyway.

Before long, many hotel managers start meeting them at check-in, handing over boxes of toiletries they want to donate to the cause.

Eddie's hoarding, his gluttony, turned on its head, and instead is being used for some real good.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[martyfive]

i lay in bed sick for two weeks straight. first there’s body temperature i never knew was possible for a human to have, then there are coughs that feel like they may be the last ones i could ever have in my life, then there’s weakness, then my five year old phone falls down from the bed ending up completely broken, then the bed sheets become something i couldn’t bear to see anymore. then i get up, go outside and unexpectedly find myself at the offer of a somewhat steady part job at this small italian restaurant we’ve been visiting every sunday sharp for the last year and a half except for these two weeks i spent lying sick in bed. we are leaving the bar for the night when R. asks me if i’d like to help her at the bar a couple hours a week.

“i have no experience or anything,” i say, feeling extremely daft. “i’m not even sure i can talk to people properly. i never really could.”

“it’s okay,” she says. “you’ll be polishing the glasses. it’s not hard. i’ll teach you everything.”

on our way home A. says, “it could be good for you, you know. being among people and trying something new,” and i feel like he’s right.

at this point this small restaurant already feels like another home i want to belong to. going there every sunday for so long totally helped with that. they have one of my works i gave them as a present for christmas on the wall. it hangs up above the table me and A. occupied the first time we ever came to eat there. the frame contains pages from a sketchbook i used to draw in while visiting italy five years ago. it feels too personal, but also somehow on it’s place. i hate to hoard the stuff i create. i want to be bolder.

regretting my life choices, i spend all what’s left from my last year’s salary on a new phone. it’s a first phone i bought without anyone’s help. it costs more than i deserve.

i can’t find any will to start drawing again after being sick for two weeks.

a couple days later i go to the restaurant to ask R. about the time i can get to work. she says, “this thursday, 6:30 pm,” and then adds, tugging on my star wars hoodie, “and put on a black shirt, if you have one”.

so i find one that looks like A. has been wearing it during his teenage years when he looked more like a stick than a human and i go for the job that for the first time in my life has nothing to do with any kind of art except the art of making cocktails i still keep messing up. a couple hours a week somehow soon turns into ten as normally as “polishing glasses” turns into “doing everything there is possible to do as quickly as possible”.

“would you like to do thirty hours a week?” R. asks one day looking hopeful as if i hadn’t broken ten of their glasses in the first five days of work.

“my back is gonna die sooner than you expect it to if i agree to that,” i answer. and it really is the only reason i don’t say yes.

i soon notice there is no time to think of anything else except the work to be done while i am behind the bar once again forgetting the difference between prosecco and chardonnay or picking the ice from the ice machine or freezing in the giant fridge while looking for the specific crate of beer everyone in this town drinks more often than water. the countless amount of crates are brought from and to the back room. the ten glasses are crushed, four of them in my own hands just from squeezing too hard on them. i cringe about every single one of them before falling asleep after coming home around midnight with my aching back and more money than i ever earned drawing pictures. i think about that one time my friend told me that once you start working in catering, there’s no way back. i haven’t talked to her in a while and i can’t ask her if she still thinks it’s true.

i still can’t draw. i guess it will pass. i still cough although i’m trying not to be loud when i’m behind the bar.

“you smoke?” R. asks. “i do. i just don’t have time.”

“i’ve been smoking since i was sixteen. but not anymore really,” i say to that. “when my mother calls me, then i smoke. but that doesn’t happen very often.”

M. laughs at that as if he understands what i’m talking about and says, “with this job, i either smoke a cigarette or kill somebody,” and i laugh with him.

M. is the chef and the restaurant is named after him. he cooks so good there is surely nothing better i’ve ever eaten in my entire life. i hear all about it from guests while picking the dishes from the tables, smiling and pretending my hands are not shaking. he and R. speak to each other in loud italian and i like how they sound even if i only understand a couple words from their dialogues.

“what’s allora?” i ask one time.

R. looks at me like i’m the only one who ever asked her a silly question like that, “huh,” she says, “i don’t know. it’s like here we go or something like that,” and she smiles.

i like talking to her. for some reason i like asking her questions and seeing the surprise on her face. she’s five years older than me but i feel like a child around her. she also has her birthday in november.

“all my family are scorpions,” she says after revealing the fact that there’s ten days between our birthdays. she names at least ten of the members of her family and all their november birthday dates in a row.

i say, “the parties must be hilarious when you all gather together.”

more often i feel like she’s my serious boss i keep disappointing with my every move but at the end of the shifts she turns into what feels more like a friend. i secretly hope i can be her friend one day even though it seems like she knows the name of every human being in this town and even some other nearby towns and doesn’t really need any more friends than she already has. but after all, i’m a part of this town now, too.

“what is your favourite thing to do here here at the bar?” i ask the other day.

she looks puzzled for a second, “maybe serving fish,” she says and this time it’s my turn to feel surprised. i saw how it’s done, and i don’t really know what she means.

“i thought it’s talking to people or something,” i say.

“nah,” she waves her hand, “it’s just my job, you know.”

i regret entering this territory but i still ask, “would you better like to do something else? some other job?”

“nah,” she says again, smiling, “i like it.”

and i like it too. horrifyingly, i like it too much. thinking about sitting at home and drawing stuff like i used to do all my life feels like a torture. it surely is one when i pick up my tablet and pencil and stare at the white canvas not knowing who i am anymore. there is nothing in my head i want to say. there is nothing my hands can do. i have no idea why. i want to go back behind the bar and ask R. what her favourite colour is.

“i’m proud of you,” A. says one night while we’re going back home from the restaurant where he got his two beers and one glass of whiskey i poured for him myself. he spent two hours sitting at the bar not far from these three teenage boys who have been drinking an enormous amount of beer and playing cards and then trying to guess where i come from according to my accent. “i’m proud that you’re doing good and you found something that you like so much.”

i buy two black shirts and jeans. i take my old black coat out of the wardrobe. i walk for two minutes from home to the bar and back looking fancier than ever. i feel happier than ever. i don’t look at my social media. i feel like this rotten sadness and loneliness that occupied my head for so long has nothing to do with my life now. i wonder if it’s just a phase. i consider finding a new therapist just to ask them if it’s okay to feel this good or i should be medicated before it’s too late. i want to go to bed at proper hour, wake up earlier, spend the day feeling good and then go to the bar and ask R. stupid questions and be stressed about the things i can control. i look at my workplace at home, at the white canvas that reflects nothingness in my head, at everything i have ever known, and i don’t know what to do.

i go back to work.

“you like it here?” M. asks almost every time. “is everything okay?”

“everything’s okay,” i say, smiling. and i mean it.

someone’s ordering an espresso at 11 pm. R. says, “tell them the coffee machine is already off,” turning it off while saying it. i laugh. i feel happy. i go home knowing there’s gonna be more work to be done tomorrow. i miss drawing stuff. i have nothing to say. i fall asleep thinking of the ten glasses i broke. in the morning, i can’t draw. i used to draw most of my stuff at the evenings and during the nights. now they are full of beer glasses and beer crates and adhd people who want an espresso before bed.

i ask myself if that really is how growing up feels like. i ask myself what i am going to do if i will not be able to draw a single piece of art ever again. i read the email of the person who wants me to draw an artwork for them. i wonder if they should know i’m an imposter who can’t draw anymore. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i go to work.

there’s a wedding at the restaurant. i once again bring what feels like an endless amount of bottle crates from the back room to the bar. i smile. i talk to people. i wipe the tables. i polish the glasses. i pour beer into them.

“my back hurts,” R. says.

“willkommen to the club,” i tell her, although for some reason my back doesn’t really hurt.

someone orders a beer and then changes their mind after the bottle was already opened.

“it’s yours if you want it,” R. says. “your shift is over anyway.”

and i stay. i sit at the bar as if i don’t really work there. i drink my beer, i talk to R. while she puts the new napkins on tables, makes sure everyone from the wedding paid what they had to and lets me ask her my questions. i pay for another beer, taking money from my fresh salary. R. rolls her eyes at that but allows me to pay anyway. she’s not a boss anymore. just… a friend. i tell her i don’t wanna go home.

“i can see that,” she laughs. “do you have friends here in town?” she asks.

i look at the bottom of my glass.

“no,” i say. there’s a lady on our street i sometimes walk our dogs together with. she’s as old as my mother. i always forget the names of her three kids although they’re all around my age. i wonder if i should mention her. “i have friends in other places. you know. not here.”

“i can be your friend here,” she says, smiling.

i feel like it’s the happiest day of my life. i’m also a little drunk on schwarzbier. even if my back would hurt i wouldn’t have noticed.

“if you need someone as me as a friend,” i say, “then. yeah. sure. uh. why not.”

we talk some more. the beer tests my language skills. i tell her i want a new tattoo. she says she got the first one when she was sixteen and it was a horrible butterfly.

“what is your favourite colour?” i finally ask.

she looks really baffled at that, then pulls out her phone. “i guess it’s red,” she says, showing me some of photos from her instagram where she’s younger than me now and is dressed up in red. “see, it looks good on me,” and she’s right. “but white is also good. and pink. and maybe purple. not black though. with my black hair, it doesn’t look good at all.”

we’re both dressed in black for work.

i come to the conclusion that colours are the least important thing in the world to her. that’s okay. i think about all the years i spent trying to make colours work. i wanna say something, but end up saying nothing.

she turns the lights off and locks the restaurant up. we spend a couple minutes walking in the same direction to our houses. i tell her about the name my friends from other places are calling me. i don’t tell her why it’s different from the one she saw on my id card. i’m not that drunk. she says she’s gonna use it from now on. she kisses my cheek before we part. i was at school the last time someone did that.

i go home. i sit at my workplace. i answer to the email of the person that wants me to draw an artwork for them from a new phone i spent enormous amount of money on. for a second i wonder if i should still tell them i’m an imposter and my career will be over by the morning when i wake up sober.

i think about the ten glasses i broke, then let myself forget about them. i tell myself to shut up and stop being dramatic.

i draw.

29/02/2024

[mesetacadre]

Regarding your post on Stalin and Lenin, I want to ask in good faith: how can honest Communists, in good conscience, acknowledge the material harm and the death tolls of the deportations of the Crimean Tatars, Soviet Koreans, and Chechens + Ingush carried out by Stalin's administration?

I at least understand why Marxist-Leninists dispute calling the Holodomor and Kazakh famines genocides, on the grounds that they came about as a mix of failed policy, bad weather, and unintended consequences.

However, while Stalin's influence on the Famines is debatable, allowing the deportations to be carried out (which DO constitute a genocide) must certainly fall on his head. This is doubly so because Lavrentiy Beria - the principal architect of the Crimean Tatar and Chechen deportations - was a close ally of Stalin.

A big reason I ask this is because I frequently see other communists either gloss over the material harm of these deportations, or treat them as a regrettable footnote in an otherwise proud career. I find both approaches problematic, because I do not see them as an honest assessment of Stalin's wrongdoing with regards to ethnic minorities within the Soviet Union.

I thank you for your time, and I look forward to reading your assessment, should you chose to answer it. Have a good day.

[context]

I'll get to the ask itself in a moment, but first I want to point out how you're doing exactly what the post you're replying to is criticizing, how every mistake and imperfect policy of the USSR between 1924 and 1953 is scapegoated to Stalin. You're ignoring both the very important structures of democracy and accountability within the party as well as in the administration of the state. He wasn't a dictator and policy was not a direct extension of the man's thoughts. The party leadership was a collective organ made up of at least a dozen people, of which Stalin was simply the chairman, with the same vote as everyone else. And every single one of these members were beholden to democratic recall at any time.

Let's start on the common ground, we understand that the famine which struck Ukraine, southern Russia and western Kazakhstan in the early 1930s has a context of cyclical famines, grain hoarding, rushed collectivization, and bad weather. There has been a strong effort on the part of capitalist powers to both exaggerate the effects of the famine and to place it all with intent to exterminate Ukranians specifically. The policy of collectivization and antagonism towards the grain-hoarding rich peasants was one approved by and carried out by hundreds of thousands of people, if not millions. We can debate the degree of maliciousness, the severity of its effects, etc. But what is indisputable once you know just a little of how the USSR worked, to pretend that it could all be carried out by Stalin's sole will is absurd.

And what is the context of the deportations? The fascist invasion of the USSR. This is an extraordinary circumstance, every facet of the USSR was being attacked and threatened with sabotage. It wasn't even the first time they had had to deal with internal sabotage, like it was revealed in the trials following the assassination of Kirov. Throughout the 30s, Nazi Germany's strongarm diplomacy was practically enabled by their ability to create fifth columns, to instigate conflict and to infiltrate. They were in the process of setting up a coup d'etat in Lithuania when, with only a week to spare, it was voted that Lithuania would join the USSR. So, the fear that, as the front advanced, the nazis would do everything in their power to turn the tapestry of nationalities close to the front against the USSR, wasn't only unfounded, it was certain. Fascists are also quite famously brutal against the minorities in the territories they conquered. Their modus operandi whenever they captured a population was to kill any elected leaders and start to instigate anti-semitism.

This was the rationale that drove the policy of resettlement. It was a rushed wartime decision, such was the context, and people definitely died unnecessarily in transport. They decided that the negative consequences of resettlement outweighed the risk of sabotage, destroyed supply lines, and of a completely certain brutal destiny for these minorities if the front advanced past them. It was not a genocide, and it had nothing to do with whatever personal relationship you think Stalin had with Beria. (As a tangent, in this interview, Stalin's bodyguard said that Beria was "neither his [Stalin's] right hand man or left hand man"). I reiterate though, the personal relationships of one man did not dictate the policy decided on democratically by the CPSU.

I don't see the problem in understanding the context of these decisions and understanding the rationale behind them without kneejerking into discounting Stalin's competency. It's very easy to criticize a decision with 80 years of hindsight, without the pressure of the largest land invasion ever carried out advancing steadily. You can't understand the policies of a country containing hundreds of millions of people and hundreds of nationalities through the lens of a single man's personal failings, especially in wartime. Admitting these mistakes, but understanding the context in which they were made, is the only way to learn from other attempts at developing socialism. What is not productive is to insist on pinning every mistake, every unnecessary pain, every inefficiency, as the wrongdoings of a single man. It's dishonest to both the past, and to how communists organize today.

[the0maski]

Oh look! I escaped containment! Update Entrance | part 2

So normal dungeon size. Would be cool to see what the different floor look like and for what reason the temple had been used in the past. Could there be references to one of them? An old inscription telling one of the Link’s legend?

-

Oh yes the reason Hyrule Warriors isn’t a canon Zelda game…and my personal one-sides beef with Aonuma! The timeline would be so much easier…

Anyway, Hyrule Warriors features some dungeons, but you just run and fight the hoards of monsters.

Love the their shock faces! And then there is Time. Don’t know if the side eye is because Time is the most stoic 3D Link, or because my boy is going through high level stress?

-

Interesting piece of LU lore! Either that or Wars purposely mentions Ganon.

Cause, technically, Cia started the War of Ages. Yes she was under the influence of Ganon, but it was her obsession that also lead to the events in HW.

And that, snuck under Ganon’s snout is not true for all of them.

Time literally played into Ganondorf’s plan in the first half of Oot. (In MM, if you look at Skull kid with the telescope. Majora will always look at you, what means they know where you are)

The same goes for Legend, in a Link between Worlds. Hilda had asked for his help, only so she could have the Triforce of Courage. Meaning that they had to be watching him somehow to make sure everything was going according to plan.

And also, I think that Zant had an eye on Twilight, not sure if from the very beginning or at some point in the game.

-

Yes recurrent items. I wonder if Hyrule has already left something hidden somewhere, for a future hero to find? The hero to follow would be Warriors so, has he any items of Hyrule?

Interesting enough, Twilight’s hero’s clothes are often said belonged to Time, because Ordona made the comment that the green tunic belonged to an ancient hero. But it makes more sense that there actually belonged to Sky, since Time isn’t an official hero in that timeline.

(Some other example of what Hyrule said, would be:

Four’s Gust Jar -> Sky’s Gust bellows

Four’s Mole Mitts -> Sky’s Digging mitts/ Mogma mitts

Four’s Small Shield -> Wind’s Hero’s shield

Four’s Cane of Pacci -> Legend’s Cane of Somaria/ Cane of Byrna

Twilight’s Ball and Chain -> Warrior’s Ball and Chain

Time’s Hero’s Bow -> Twilight’s Hero’s Bow)

-

Twilight saw the opportunity to bite War’s ego and took it! Meanwhile, Four worries about some enemies only found in dungeons, why is he the only one who cares about his brother getting badly hurt?

Wind is clearly screaming inside.

-

Nice call back to when LU hasn’t had a storyline!

This part could be also mean that some of the doodles can be taken as Slice of Life parts, though some of them still hadn’t taken place yet.

-

Hyrule knows that it is important to know the enemy and be prepare. Like that about his character, as much as he likes to goof around and get lost in the world, he knows when to take things serious.

(He might quote this even from his game? His text does read like something an NPC in game would say.)

-

Legend‘s little prank here is a good way to show the captain how it’s feels to be grabbed by a Wallmaster. So no blame to the Vet, this might be even good.

More on part 3

[cravingpepsimax]

i’m cooking up a Fucked Up and Obsessed stan au bc we need more of that (it’s also arguably an offshoot of taxidermy ford WJAJSJSK)

stan has worked tirelessly, thanklessly, for 30 years to bring his brother back. over the years, he grows more and more obsessed with ford. it’s kind of hard not to — you need that motivation to keep going somehow. every time he finds something ford used to own, he hides it away into his basement. every time he learns something about ford’s history that he didn’t know, he memorizes it like he’s, for once in his life, studying a test. they may have been estranged for a decade, and he might not know what’s going on on the other side of the portal, but he’ll make up for it the best he can. he has to learn everything. he HAS to. maybe he even picks up his brother’s interest in journaling — only, instead, his research isn’t on the paranormal, but specifically ford.

stan is willing to sacrifice anything for ford. he is willing to sacrifice EVERYTHING. his love of ford isn’t just familial, it’s not even just romantic — it’s borderline cultish. at first, he felt guilt taking his brother’s name, but now it makes him feel closer, like he and ford have somehow become one.

and then. finally. ford comes back.

and ford is pissed.

like in canon, stan does fight back and bicker with ford. and, like in canon, stan doesn’t actually hate ford. he never has. he doesn’t want to fight, but ford isn’t giving him a choice.

the worst part is that ford’s taken the basement.

because the basement is where stan put a lot of his… ford research.

everything that wasn’t in the basement was in a secret room directly connected to it.

it starts off with smaller things — a few of ford’s old personal belongings here and there. he mostly just brushes it off, ignores the pang in his heart when he thinks about how stan kept these souvenirs for a reason.

but then, it piles up. stan keeping ford’s spare pair of glasses was bittersweet — stan hoarding ford’s old garbage 3 decades after the fact was concerning. it got even MORE concerning when ford found out that THERE’S AN ENTIRE ROOM OF FORD STUFF.

there are photographs of ford covering the walls. pretty much every legal/medical/academic record of ford was there, and they sure weren’t there for identity theft.

but that’s not what ford notices.

the first thing ford notices are the human taxidermies. that all look like him.

every ford taxidermy is well-kept, dressed in ford’s old clothes. ford isn’t too surprised stan kept his clothes — what he IS surprised by is how taken care of they are. they’ve all clearly been washed recently. ironed, too.

and his taxidermies were wearing them like mannequins.

some of the taxidermies look like ford in his 30s, minus the dishevelement brought on by paranoia and sleep deprivation. some look like him as a teen. some look… awfully similar to himself now. the elderly taxidermies are a bit off, and each have some different design choices, so ford realizes that these were made before his return.

doesn’t help the fact that stan is MAKING FUCKING TAXIDERMIES OF HIM.

stan finds out ford’s in the room and freaks the fuck out. he’s still working on his plan on how to deal with ford’s… behavior, and this REALLY throws a wrench in it.

ford acts a bit more… nervous around stan in the next few days.

that just makes stan even more upset.

[viviennevermillion]

5 Love Languages ♡

notes: might write these for all dorms if i have the stamina. if you would like to be notified when i post works for your favorite characters, you can join my taglist. also feel free to commission me! Also everytime I write anything for Lilia I have to physically stop myself from turning it into the angstiest shit I have ever written.

prompt: how they express the 5 love languages and how they like to receive love in return

contains: diasomnia x gn!reader

warnings: none

𝕄𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕦𝕤 𝔻𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕚𝕒 ♡

╰┈➤ Words of Affirmation

Malleus is one of the most verbally affectionate people in the cast. He may not be as in tune with his own emotions, but once he's aware of his feelings for you, he knows well to put them into words. He has this old-fashioned, sometimes almost poetic way of speaking and he doesn't even need to try very hard to make your heart beat faster. Like, just look at his lines in canon. "You're not afraid of me but I'm starting to become afraid...of losing you".....once you're dating him it's this x5. He'll take your hands into his and tell you that you make his heart flutter and that he wants nothing more but to spend the rest of his long, long life with you. He notices all the little things about you that he finds beautiful and he doesn't hesitate to tell you.

Malleus loves being on the receiving end of compliments as well. It boosts his mood instantly to have you gush over him or go on a tangent about how much you adore him. Malleus sucks up compliments and affection like a sponge. He'll have the softest smile on his face when you cup his face and tell him he means the world to you. He takes your hand into his and presses soft appreciative kisses to your knuckles. Malleus is whipped for you and the second your relationship is no longer a secret everyone will notice.

╰┈➤ Quality Time

Malleus loves spending time with you. Quality Time with him is the foundation of your relationship and the whole reason you even got this far with him. After centuries of being alone, Malleus adores having someone who will just ask him to hang out with them like it's second nature and he won't hesitate to seek you out either when he has an idea for how to spend your day together. This goes without saying but Malleus would love to take you on long nightly walks under the stars and hold your hand; exploring his favorite ruins and explaining every gargoyle he sees to you. You expressing interest in him and listening to his words with your utmost attention was what touched his heart first and it never fails to make him grateful for your presence in his life. Malleus is also up for almost any date ideas you bring to the table. He has much to explore about this world and what better way to do this than with the person he loves? He's curious and attentive. As your lover it's self-evident for him to learn more about your hobbies and engage with you in the things you're passionate about. His interest in your life is nothing half-hearted and you can bet he's getting just as excited as you about the things that matter to you.

╰┈➤ Gifts

Malleus likes to give you gifts as well. It's custom for dragon fae to give their lover prized possessions such as gemstones and jewelry, but Malleus has a very different understanding of what a valuable gift is than most fae engaging in this method of courting. So you'll get expensive jewels alongside a photo of his favorite gargoyle and a broken chandelier he found in an abandoned building. Sometimes you don't really know what to do with the gifts he gives you but he insists that once you become his consort you can have your own dragon hoard and just put everything there.

He treasures every gift you give him as well, no matter what it is. But he is especially weak for gifts where he can tell that you put a lot of thought into it. Something personal, adjusted to his interests. A modern book about gargoyles or a beautiful ice cream cup. He'll thank you and press a kiss to your lips gently, reminding you that he loves you and that you're the greatest gift he could ask for.

╰┈➤ Acts of Service

Don't let him. At least not in the beginning of the relationship when he's not as attuned to your needs yet. Because we know how Malleus trying to do things for other people usually turns out...acts of service from this man could be anything from a mild inconvenience to a magical safety hazard. He has the best intentions but the worst approaches.

Once he becomes aware of those shortcomings, he makes a point of asking you directly how he could support you. He will accompany you to tasks and appointments that stress you if you so wish, as well as use his magic to make life easier for you if you tell him that he can. It'll take him a while to not mess it up but he'll try for you.

Malleus generally doesn't see a need for you to assist him in anything while at Night Raven College, as he can do most of his tasks easily with magic. He still chuckles at your attempts to do so and feels flattered though. When you become his consort, Malleus treasures when you support him in his duties as prince and later king. Sometimes you'll personally bring him a few snacks and a cup of black coffee when he's busy with his documents. He'll thank you and presses a soft kiss to your lips, smiling against them and squeezing your hand gently, offering that you may seek him out if you need any assistance with your share of the work as well.

╰┈➤ Physical Touch

Malleus is touch-starved so he will happily take you up on the offer to touch you, if you allow him. When you two are alone, he'll be snuggled close to you or at least has an arm wrapped around you or holds your hand.

He'll let you touch his horns. They're quite sensitive and he'll close his eyes, letting out a soft sigh as you work your magic. When he's stressed or something upset him, he loves to rest his head in your lap and have you card your fingers through his hair and gently caress his horns.

Malleus also loves when you kiss the markings on his forehead. It's a silent promise for dragon fae that one intends to stay by their side forever. Malleus takes this gesture as an unspoken sign of your devotion and he'll reciprocate it, even if you don't have any dragon markings.

He loves to be snuggled up in bed with you or take a nice warm bath, kissing you softly for as long as you let him. He loves to spoil you with his affection and receive yours in turn.

╰┈➤ Words of Affirmation

Lilia has his own, sometimes strange way of reminding you verbally just how much you matter to him. He always expresses his love for you in words when you least expect it; often by using unusual analogies and sentences that aren't very direct but still make it clear that he's speaking from his heart and out of genuine adoration for you.

Lilia is used to taking care of others; having served Briar Valley for centuries as well as having raised both Malleus and Silver. His love for you will shine through the most in moments where he's worried about you or scolds you playfully. He'll float if necessary, putting a hand at the back of your head and letting you bury your head in his chest. He'll look down at you with a peaceful smile of such pure devotion and fondness you don't get to see that often, softly telling you not to worry too much or to be more careful. He presses a kiss to your forehead as a reminder that he's always there when you need him.

Lilia can be a tease when he's on the receiving end for compliments. He'll usually laugh it off. "Khee hee, you flatter me", he'd chuckle and press a kiss to your cheek. But sometimes you'll see him respond with a sly smirk. "You think this getup suits me? Well, tell me all about it, won't you?", he lowers his pitch, maybe whispers in your ear or nibbles at your lips gently. Though, his teasing demeanor quickly shifts back to a hearty laugh when he sees that he has made you flustered. "Hehe, I didn't mean to fluster you", he lies. He absolutely meant to do that.

╰┈➤ Quality Time

Even though Lilia has been on this earth for a very long time, he still treasures the time he gets to spend with the people he loves and you're no exception to that. Sometimes you may underestimate how much all these small moments shared with you mean to him, especially with how casually he tends to talk about him, but those are the things he'll remember most when his final day does come.

Lilia loves to share the things he finds fun with you. He'll let you sit on his lap (or sit on yours) when he's gaming online and let you watch, explaining the game to you so you can share the experience together. He'll totally be up for playing games with you if you'd like to get the game yourself. He's the kind of man who's super welcoming to new players and willing to help you out whenever you need it.

He'll also offer to cook with you. If you are brave enough to let him into a kitchen while you're preparing a meal, you better keep a watchful eye on him to make sure he doesn't put any "special ingredients" into the dish that he thinks would "spice it up". Sometimes he'll be very insistent about doing things his way and assures you repeatedly that he has ways to improve the recipe tremendously. Pay no mind to suggestions like "Are you sure we don't want the oyster sauce in there?" or "Shouldn't we leave the gratin in the oven for a bit longer? The cheese on top isn't even black yet"; for the good of everyone involved.

Lilia knows how, even for someone with a long lifespan, life can feel surprisingly short; as can the time we spend with those we care about be cut short in an instant. As someone who has seen the horrors of war and experienced loss over and over again, Lilia sees even more meaning in the fact that you've chosen to spend a significant portion of your time with him. Time is a precious resource and he'd choose to spend his on you and the children he raised over and over again.

╰┈➤ Gifts

You need to find some sort of way to get yourself out of the predicament of being given "homemade meals" by him because that stuff is inedible, if not actively toxic, but you can also tell he put a lot of effort into it, however misplaced that effort may be. He'll be so excited when he brings you the dish, waiting eagerly to see your reaction to his cooking. Only that your reaction would probably not be what he anticipated.

Other than that, Lilia has a way of finding gifts and souvenirs you would enjoy for sure, just as he does for Malleus, Silver and Sebek. He treasures every gift you give him as well, whether it's something expensive you bought or something as simple as a sloppily made acorn necklace. For Lilia, it's the thought that counts when it comes to gifts.

╰┈➤ Acts of Service

Lilia doesn't mind helping you out when you need it; assisting you in matters that may stress you out or that you may have trouble with on your own; though Lilia is someone who will also always encourage you to be brave and find your own way to tackle issues head-on. He can't always tell you how to solve a problem in a way that works for you, but when you do find out yourself, he'll be very proud of you.

Lilia insists that he doesn't need your help with anything and most of the time that is true, but that doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate your attempts at doing so anyway. And if he truly does need your assistance with something, then what you do for him will be something he'll never forget.

╰┈➤ Physical Touch

Lilia enjoys touch; especially for showing his affection to you when he can't really put it into words. You'll definitely receive headpats whenever the occasion calls for it.

He'll also let you cuddle him when you wish to do so, letting you rest your head on his chest while he has an arm wrapped around you. He'll let you fall asleep while he holds you; though Lilia tends to shift around a lot at night. Sometimes you'll wake up and find him sleeping upside down on the ceiling instead. This is normal behavior for him, don't let it deter you.

Lilia likes teasing you with his physical affection. Expect quite a few kisses on your neck and close to your earlobe. He finds it very amusing when he can fluster you. Though, his teasing is often followed by a genuine, gentle kiss to your lips or your temple, to reassure you he truly does mean all the affection he gives to you.

╰┈➤ Words of Affirmation

Silver isn't really that good at putting his love for you into words and when he attempts to do so, he'll be quite awkward about it and maybe stumble over his words a few times. His care for you shows in the way he's willing to protect you and how he worries about you a lot. That is the one thing he never fails to tell you. That you do not have to hesitate to call for him when you need his help for anything or feel unsafe in any situation. Your comfort and well-being is so important to him and he treasures when you acknowledge his efforts at preserving those things. He loves when you tell him he's a good boyfriend and is relieved to know that he's doing everything properly when it comes to making you feel loved and cared for in the relationship; as he doesn't really have any experience with dating and was quite nervous at first.

Silver gets flustered quite easily when he's on the receiving end of compliments. Lilia teases him about it a lot when he first starts dating you. His father is going to try to play wingman for the two of you and he's having the time of his life with it. Lilia will also absolutely tell you about the sweet things Silver has said about you when you're not around. Silver doesn't really know how to respond to a lot of verbal affection, so he just tends to let his actions speak and holds you for a while or gives you a sweet kiss.

╰┈➤ Quality Time

Silver has learnt to appreciate the time he has to spend with his loved ones, especially growing up around people who will live for so much longer than he does. So he too will treasure how much time you're willing to dedicate to him.

Before he confessed to you, he was a little unsure what activities you would enjoy doing together and he was a little hesitant to suggest anything; letting you pick whenever the occasion called for it, but he starts taking the initiative more once he actually starts dating you. He'll get one of the horses from the equestrian club ready and will take you on a ride, letting you sit behind him and relishing in the feeling of your arms wrapped around him and you holding onto him for support.

Silver sometimes, as he always has a habit to in any situation, falls asleep during your time spent together and he'll feel so sorry for it. At first he's worried that you might take it as a sign that he finds your presence boring or isn't really committed to your activities together, so reassure him that you don't take it personally. He'll still feel a little guilty, but he appreciates the reassurance. He'll try his best to stay awake during your dates.

╰┈➤ Gifts

Silver is pretty classy when it comes to gift-giving. Flowers and chocolates are his go-to option along with anything you have previously expressed wanting or enjoying. When he knows you like a certain brand of tea or a type of shampoo, he gets it for you when he sees it in a store. Silver is very attentive and notices when you run out of things needed for your daily life and he has a habit of getting them for you.

Silver has a tendency to be humble when you give him gifts. "Thank you, y/n, but that really wouldn't have been necessary" and "You didn't need to go out of your way to get me anything" are not unusual sentences to come out of his mouth; even on anniversaries or Valentine's Day. He'll be a little awkward about receiving gifts from you but he does appreciate them a lot nonetheless!

He's especially fond of practical gifts. Things like new riding gear or polish for his sword. It tells him that you're paying attention to the activities he cares about and support him in his training as well as with his hobbies. Silver will thank you for your gifts with a kiss on the cheek and reminds you that he loves you very much.

╰┈➤ Acts of Service

Perhaps the most prevalent love language Silver has. I mean he's literally a prince's attendant, a guard and his motivation is dedicating his life to pay his adoptive father back for raising him. If Silver is good at any way to express love, it's acts of service and that is what he defaults to. He's always ready to get you whatever you need to be comfortable and happy; he'll protect you whenever the need arises and he is dedicated to supporting you with any situations you might struggle with.

He's so attentive and can even go a little over the top when you're not feeling well. You're sick? He'll look up how to make a nice soup for you and brings it to your bed along with however many blankets you need and a warm tea. Nervous about an upcoming event? He'll hold your hand, gently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb to reassure you that he's right here with you to support you. He'll try to find solutions to the problem to make you feel more at ease. You're crying? Silver is ready to hand you tissues and wrap his arms around you, letting you cry into his shoulder.

Silver is a giver in a relationship and acts of service is another thing he will say he doesn't need and that you don't need to go out of your way to do anything for him. He can even be a little stubborn with this. Lilia might bonk him gently and tell him to just let you spoil him for once.

╰┈➤ Physical Touch

Silver loves cuddling. He'll fall asleep very easily when he's nestled in your arms and has your fingers running through his soft hair. He'd have a smile on his face that he isn't even aware of in that moment.

His kisses are gentle and sweet most of the time, reminding you of the pure and unconditional love he has for you. You're his first love and it shows. It takes him a while to ease into being shown a lot of physical affection but he adores it. Never complains about it and just accepts it without question.

He also doesn't mind PDA. He enjoys taking walks with you around campus, holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around you. He kisses your lips or your forehead as a quick goodbye whenever you part ways to go to different classes.

╰┈➤ Words of Affirmation

The one love language Sebek likes to receive the most. He's not too enthusiastic about mixed signals and when he's truly dedicated to someone, he wants to know he's doing a good job at providing comfort and happiness for them. If you don't tell him on your own, he will ask you whether you're satisfied with how much affection he's showing you, if he's giving you everything you need and whether there's anything lacking. Sebek takes pride in being praised for his care and attentiveness and he craves the affirmation that he's a good boyfriend to you.

He will boast about it when you compliment him and he might let it go to his head once in a while. He definitely brags about the compliments you have given him to other people and sometimes you'll have to remind him to tone it down a notch.

Sebek is also very quick to compliment you in return. You're also Sebek's first relationship and he needs to unlearn the tendency to idealize you the way he does Malleus (he also needs to unlearn to idealize Malleus but that's another cup of tea). Either way, if you're dating Sebek you will know exactly where you stand with him. He leaves no room for doubt about that. He could go on for an hour about all the things he loves about you. He's the type to send you a whole love letter in your DM's.

Sebek finds so many little things he thinks are beautiful about you and with time you'll become aware of every single one of them.

╰┈➤ Quality Time

Sebek feels honored that you spend your time with him. He enjoys the quieter moments; having tea together or talking about books you have read. Like Silver, he will also take you horse-riding and enjoy the scenery on the Isle of Sages with you.

Sebek's ideal date is just going to the bookstores on the island and picking out books for each other; preferably something one of you has read already, so you can both look forward to the other's thoughts about the matter. He loves just being snuggled up in a cozy position on the couch and reading idly next to each other. You occasionally exchange kisses or he'll glance over to your book, see which chapter you're on and ask you for your thoughts on a particular thing that happened in the book.

╰┈➤ Gifts

I hope his parents don't give him that much pocket money because Sebek is not above spending a ridiculous amount of money on gifts you really didn't need. If someone just offhandedly mentions something would be a good gift for a lover, Sebek is already contemplating whether to get it for you. I'm honestly surprised Azul hasn't made a regular customer out of Sebek yet because convincing him that you or Malleus would like a thing is a pretty solid way to get Sebek to spend money.

He treasures every gift you give him. Even if you didn't intend for something to be a gift. You could give him the wrapper of your chocolate bar and he'd treat it like a family heirloom. This is another "Sebek you need to tone it down a notch" instance.

Sebek is appreciative of literally everything you do for him so if you want a boyfriend who'll have grand reactions to your affection and is no stranger to elaborately explaining just how much a thing you did touched his heart, Sebek is your guy.

╰┈➤ Acts of Service

Sebek's #1 love language when it comes to giving you love. When you need something, Sebek gets ready to provide it for you before you even finished your sentences sometimes. "Sebek. Chill. Sit down", you take his hand and guide him to sit next to you again. "Right...", he responds and runs a hand through his hair awkwardly.

He moderates a little as your relationship progresses. At the beginning of it he's in a state where he would gladly do your homework for the rest of the year and make you dinner every evening etc.

He is so touched when you do things for him in return. He's like "wow, they actually put in so much effort to support me 😳🥺" internally and struggles to process that he's actually that lucky for this to be happening to him.

╰┈➤ Physical Touch

Sebek loves physical touch and he's actually kinda sensitive. At the beginning of the relationship when he's not used to your affection yet, just a kiss or you running your hands through his hair is enough to have him stumbling over his words and struggling to form coherent sentences. Sebek.exe has stopped working.

Sebek actively encourages as much PDA as possible without having it affect his reputation as Malleus's guard. He loves to boast about your affection and your love for him. Literally, the entire school could hate your guts and Sebek would still brag about being your boyfriend.

If you don't stop him you're going to be that couple who kisses repeatedly in the hallway before class starts.

Sebek especially adores cheek kisses and when you nuzzle his neck. But literally all affection from you has the potential to make his heart melt.

If you go too overboard, he might cry out of happiness.

taglist ─ @moldy-cheeto @vera-deville @rose-the-witch1 @endlessorrow @xxheartspadexx @mochinee @curekibouka-writing

also sebek is surprisingly hard to write for if you have to ignore malleus for the most part

[wxnheart]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

note: I'm expanding on what I call my Just Be series (which started with König/Just Kingly Things) and what better way to do that than to do one for Babygurl? heads up, this list touches on some sensitive subjects, too. hope y'all enjoy it!

Ghost vividly remembers his father’s words, spurred by misery and an alcoholic rage. He remembers the times when the wretched bastard would tell him that he was unlovable and would amount to absolutely nothing. And surprise, surprise, Simon believes believed this.

He remembers his mother’s smile, strained and… and lifeless. He can count on one hand the number of times it reached her eyes. It was never around his father.

Simon also thinks of his brother, anxiety and tension fueling their fights; they fought each other because they couldn’t fight anyone else. Not the ones they wanted to fight, that is.

Ghost remembers the day when he took matters into his own hands and stood up to their father. He remembers the abject fear in the miserable fuck’s eyes and finally—

He remembers the hopeful smile his mother gave him later. He remembers seeing the tension and stress literally leave his brother’s body.

Even if he didn’t show it often, Simon was damn proud to see his family’s life turn around for the better. Simon remembers his brother pledging his life and love to new his sister-in-law. He remembers swallowing a bitter pill to support him and the singular thought running through his mind the entire time: ‘Where’s my happiness?’

And despite his upbringing, Ghost is very much a marriage-minded individual (to his surprise). You’d be forgiven for thinking otherwise because he keeps to himself.

A relationship with Simon is best described as a slow burn. Your attraction to him would be more apparent than his desire for you. Simon would be extremely hesitant in the beginning to pursue you for a plethora of reasons, the main one being a hidden fear that he’ll turn out like his father. He internalized every single thing the miserable shit told him. A close second one is, well, his profession. He figures that not many people can stomach the things he’s seen and done. Gotta have a certain strength of will to deal with everything that comes with him. You have to have patience as well.

You’re up for the challenge but Simon is still skeptical hence why your relationship with him will develop fairly slowly. Funnily enough, Soap will be your wingman and biggest supporter because the way he sees it, Ghost is just as deserving of love and happiness as the next person even if he thinks he isn’t.

And yeah, Ghost can give credit where it’s due. There are a lot of things he’s learned about himself thanks to you.

For starters, he’s learned that he’s a much more territorial person than he thought. Simon remembers the way his father would do his damnedest to hoard his mother’s attention and he does his best not to do that with you.

It’s hard to make him laugh but he always finds the sides of his mouth quirking whenever you tell a shitty joke. From anyone else, he wouldn’t be impressed but you… yeah. Offbeat humor suits you. It doesn’t hurt to chuckle after all.

When you first called him handsome, something new, something different aside from all the bullshit insults hurled at him or Ghost or Simon, he was immediately on edge if only because he’d never felt so… flattered before. Yeah, that’ll take some getting used to but he’d be a fucking liar if he didn’t think your compliments made his day. Or that he feels some type of way when you compliment someone else.

You two can agree to disagree. Civilly, might I add, and without the theatrics. What better way to pacify a mean fuck than to agree with everything they said, even when it was loud and wrong? Simon’s glad to not have to walk on eggshells, to realize that there can be peace even in the midst of conflict.

He can never forget the joy in your eyes that day when you two crossed that bridge and made your relationship official (“About damn time, Lt.” “Shut up, Johnny.”). You’re practically glowing and he allows himself to feel, to believe that he’s everything his father said he’d never be. You hug him tightly and yeah, Simon figures he’ll be just fine.

Your smile reaches your eyes and he thinks he’s found his happiness after all.

Just Ghostly things, amirite?

[figureofdismay]

i keep thinking about the lines from Vince Gilligan's Drive script, the antisemitic conspiracy theorist with the pressurized head demands to know if Mulder is Jewish and if Mulder is a Jewish name, and Mulder says, "Yes, I am, and no it's not," plus there's the fact that he was buried unembalmed, which made his resurrection possible in DeadAlive, plus DD's statement that he'd decided Mulder was Jewish and to play him that way unless told to do otherwise, so despite the messy parts of the Kaddish script and other culturally 'Christian Athist' Mulder moments in the writing (most likely because of how little cultural awareness there is about the difference in Christian vs Jewish theism that it bleeds through everywhere), I do think there was a conscious positioning of the Mulder character as Jewish Adjacent via his mother + complicated by his WASPy father's domination of the family...

But they wrote that without any specific research or much accommodation for the implications of keeping him tied up with alien conspiracy plots and eugenics plot. Yet! Mulder was always on the 'fighting it' side, and the power hoarding conspiracists were all signalled to be rich WASPy conservative men, all but one of whom were White.

Also early the 90s independent internet fringe conspiracy theorists, i.e. the Lone Gunmen, Max and others shown to be allied with Mulder, weren't the radical right wing fasch of the last 10-15 years, and in the context of the show don't carry the same strange implication of 'an ethnically Jewish person surrounding himself with conspiracy theorists' would in the present day. I do get the sense that they were radical left instead -- that doesn't necessarily leave out the antisemitism part, of course so it's not un-complicated, of course. (And though I suppose i should feel grateful that CC made Mulder's son a fish mutant and not a lizard mutant that's also not a particularly reassuring implication... but then again the Revival is a pretty different animal with different, less collaborative creative direction.)

Yes parts of this subtext do bother me a lot. The fact that they got 3/4rs of the way there in the writing but never once had Jewish Adjacent Mulder talk about the mental toll of sorting the wheat from the chaff, finding genuine abduction survivor and alien leads in amongst the mountains of antisemetic conspiracy bullshit on message boards or how he doesn't really ever know which contacts are going to meet him and decide he's the enemy because he 'looks Jewish'... it's both a missed opportunity and speaks to a lot of ignorance. It makes me pretty crazy. There are a lot of half gestures towards Mulder's Jewish background and then a lot of ugly coincidences and unfortunate implications because no one really thought about what that would mean in the context of The X-File's genre content and recurring themes. But also some of that uncomfortable feeling comes from the fact that there have been a lot of cultural shifts since the original run was on the air.

Like, i don't think he's culturally exactly anything, caught in the middle and mostly without. It's a story familiar to me and my mother because my grandmother was also a young Jewish woman who made a hasty love match (i.e. she got pregnant) with a WASPy goy from a rich industrialist family, and said family held the purse strings, so keeping his mother happy was everything -- which was true even after my grandparents divorced, because of complicated inheritance reasons. She assimilated and let my mother and her siblings be raised as Christmas and Passover celebrating 'nothing in particular' kids, who went to shul when visiting her parents and kept shabbos sometimes with the neighbors, but still broadly steeped in cultural Christianity and outside the community, because it was the 50s and 60s and she was a divorced mother in an upper middle class white area who had to be careful to keep social doors open to all of them. I figure Teena and Mulder had a pretty similar situation in the 60s and 70s, with the added complication of accidentally marrying into an actual WASPy conspiracy hub who could have you 'disposed of' for speaking out of turn.

I just... Jewish Mulder is deeply important to me as a character, it's the execution in practice that I find extremely frustrating. it's the half way there implications, partly intentional, partly accidental because it's apparent that no one educated themselves on the history some of the bigger themes beyond the surface familiar Scifi-Horror tropes. Actually getting there all the way and digging into it, or trying even 25% more to avoid the pitfalls around Mulder and Teena would have added a lot to the show. And would maybe even have insulated CC against (some of) the plot bungles in the Revival. Very frustrating all around. But at the same time, it is a scifi show, and the aliens and rich White conspirators are very literal in fact on the screen.

And what's more, Mulder's particular blend of faith and hope and contention and interrogation, his willingness to Keep Doing The Work no matter what, because it's worth it and it needs to be done in the hope for a better world... that is very Jewish to me at more than a surface level. For me that makes all the awkward implications worth it.