#this somehow managed to end up sequential?

[glitchinginthegarden]

shots from the cutting room floor [?/∞] silverv edition

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do an NRC Students (Except Ortho) x Reader, Where Reader and they are having a Romantic moment/Date, but it gets interrupted by Someone or Something?

Yeah of course!! Thank you for the req and for your patience, I know it's been FIVEEVER. My concrete sequential brain can't omit characters though, so Ortho is on here in a platonic like. babysitting/sibling outing way :D

I hope you enjoy <3

MC! GN! Reader - SOME ARE FLIRTY OKAY I'M FLIRTY IN THEORY AND NEED TO LET IT OUT

Ruining The Moment

**Every single one is different/written as it's own drabble. Apologies if some cut off abruptly, I struggle with knowing where to end things.

Heartslaybul

Riddle:

You and Riddle were studying together on one of the upper floors of the library. While quiet remarks had been made back and forth, more than anything, you both just enjoyed each other's company.

Neither of you had really noticed just how much time had passed since class had been out. Now, with the library being bathed in the warmth of the sunset, Riddle was about ready to pack up to ensure he made it back to his dorm in time for tea time. However, as he looked up from his work, he found himself pausing to study your visage.

The sunlight pouring in from the windows behind you made you look like you were glowing; ethereal. His eyes lingered on you, studying every inch of your expression, focused on the task at hand, which happened to be your history homework. The slight furrow of your brow, the sharpness in your eyes, determined to finish your work, the slight pout of your lips...

He found himself feeling shy all of a sudden, without much of an explanation. He wanted to compliment you - at least...to tell you how lovely you looked, his hand reaching gingerly across the table to try and hold your free one, but just as you noticed, he startled as a very distinctive voice cut through the other hushed chatter around the library.

"Eheee~ goldfishie!! And lil shrimpy, aww I get a two for one deal!! Whatchya guys doin'?"

Floyd came over, picking up one of Riddle's book and flicking through it, feigning interest, before looking bored and setting it aside.

"Blegh, have you guys seriously been here all d- eh?? Goldfishie, you're all red~ you're not mad though, are ya? Usually it takes more than that t'push your buttons."

Riddle seemed to be at a loss for words, opening his mouth as if to say something, then snapping it shut, just making Floyd giggle as he sat on the table and leaned backwards to talk to you.

"Ahhhha I see what's goin' on. You should ask goldfishie out, shrimpy, he ain't gonna do it himself otherwise."

Riddle somehow managed to flush even more, his cheeks nearly matching his face in colour.

"Yes I would! I just- I- If you hadn't so RUDELY interrupted our-"

Riddle's rambling was cut short by a soft peck on his cheek, causing him to sputter and look at you in disbelief. The rather smug look on your face combined with Floyd's rambunctious laughter was enough to render the redhead completely speechless, contemplating now, how the future would play out.

Trey:

He would never admit it, but these late night rendezvous in the kitchen were some of his favourite moments. He was always concerned about your journey from Ramshackle to Heartslaybul, but you always stayed on the phone with him while he prepped everything and you walked over.

Being the voice of reason in the dorm, as well as Riddle's handler often left him drained, but your presence and an empty, quiet kitchen were more than enough to make him feel better. There was also a bit of a thrill to it, as nobody knew the two of you were dating yet. He loved knowing that the two of you would be left to your own devices...that he would have your full, undivided attention.

You let him know you were getting to the front door, so he made sure to go unlock it for you, before heading back to the kitchen.

You walked in on him measuring a tablespoon of vinegar into a cup of milk.

"Won't that curdle it?"

Trey hummed in amusement, pulling you in gently against him.

"Yeah, that's the point. Buttermilk in red velvet cake is a must."

He leaned down to kiss you softly. Admittedly, it likely lasted longer than it felt, but he pulled away rather quickly, pulling you to his chest and turning you away from the sudden flash of light from the hallway. Hushed giggles and whispers were heard afterwards, rather panicked sounding as Trey's glare penetrated through the darkness.

He was about to pull out his pen to stop the footsteps that were clearly booking it down the hallway, but you gently lowered his hand. Though embarrassed, it was nothing worth expending magic on.

"People were gonna find out one way or another..."

Trey sighed softly, his face softening as he turned back towards you.

"True, I just wish it could have waited a little longer."

You smiled a bit mischievously.

"Well they're gone now, and it's not like anything we do at this point will change what they do with the photos. Want to continue where we left off?~"

Cater:

"Don't let me go."

"I'm not going to let you go."

"Don't let me go."

Cater laughed softly. "I couldn't let you go if I tried, you've got a vice grip on me right now."

He walked beside you slowly, letting you try and get used to the feeling of being on his skateboard, your forearms locked together to help you keep your balance, but you were still wearing a helmet as an added safety measure.

"Do you want to try giving yourself a little push? I'll still-"

"No, no thank you, this is still fine."

He couldn't help but chuckle again, finding you rather cute. He enjoyed being the person you were relying on for safety right now, and your focused face and determination to not fall were just too adorable to ignore! He tried to lean in to kiss your cheek, but you weren't expecting it, so you leaned away, tilting you backwards on the skateboard. Cater tripped over the skateboard as you tumbled backwards, but at the last moment, he managed to pull you on top of him and took the brunt of the fall instead, grunting a bit before laughing softly.

"Sevens, I'm sorry-"

"Are you okay??" You cut off his apology, more concerned about the fact he not only fell on the pavement, but that he had taken your weight along with it.

"Hm? Oh of course I am, Cay-Cay's taken MUCH rougher falls in a far less prepared manner. You can't get into skateboarding if you don't become an expert in how to fall properly." He hummed, rather satisfied with himself that you hadn't gotten hurt, sitting up and helping you sit up in the process.

You gave him a small, faux pout.

"Well, I'm afraid the only falling I'm an expert in, is head over heels for you."

You couldn't help but grin and wink as the ginger's face flushed a bit, a bashful smile a mile wide being hidden behind his hand.

Deuce:

"WOOOOOOOOOOOO DEUCE!!!!! GO DEUCE!! N-R-C, N-R-C!!!!!"

He could hear you cheering him on from the stands as he crossed the finish line, coming in first place. Pure elation coursed through him; not only had his training paid off and he had beaten RSA's competitors, but he had done it in front of you.

As soon as he got the go-ahead from coach Vargas, he was jogging off to come meet you at the bottom of the bleachers, a little out of sight of all the hubbub. He was absolutely beaming as he approached you. You had a small hand towel in one hand, and his water in the other. Despite this, and the fact Deuce had just run a race, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped his arms around you, laughing.

"I did it!!!"

"You did!! And I got it all on video for your mom too!"

He laughed again softly, hugging you a little tighter before letting you go.

"You're the best, you know that right? I really appreciate you coming here."

He averted his eyes for a moment, before leaning in to try and place a kiss on your cheek.

"Thank you for-"

"Deuce? Coach is looking for- ah-"

Jack averted his eyes awkwardly, his ears flattening, his tail tucking slightly, and rubbed the back of his neck a bit.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting something, but coach said he needs everyone...uh...back, I'll give you two a minute though...sorry-...sorry."

Even though you couldn't see Jack's face, you could hear the embarrassment in his voice as he slinked back from whence he came. Not to mention, Deuce's cheeks were flushed from both being "caught" and from the race.

Deuce stuttered a bit, trying to recover, but failed as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek instead.

"You should get back to your coach before he sends someone a little less considerate than Jack to come find you. You can return the kiss later, okay?"

You giggled softly, gently pushing him to go join his team lest he get into trouble with Vargas.

Ace: (OTL this is a little different sorry)

"You know you could have just done this right the first time and we wouldn't be stuck redoing this assignment for Crewel."

Ace mocked you through facial expression before responding.

"Yeah well if you had shown up at lunch like you were supposed to, we wouldn't be stuck here after school."

You rolled your eyes.

"You knew I had to talk to Crowley at lunch, your poor planning and listening skills are not my issue. I know I told you that the recipe only called for mustard seed and bat fur, not snake tongue. How do you even confuse that??"

You searched his face for answers, but he just turned his face away from you, a light blush on his face as he mumbled something under his breath. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

"Oh come on, I deserve an explanation as to why you did it. There's no way it wasn't on purpose."

He sighed, puffing his cheeks just slightly and restating what he said.

"Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you"

With the cauldron bubbling, it was rather difficult to hear him, so you just shot him a confused look.

"Dude, speak u-"

"I wanted to hang out, okay?! Like. One on one. You're always so busy with your...rEspOnsiBilItiEs and...taking care of everyone and babysitting Grim, I feel bad trying to ask for some of your time when I know it's a precious commodity and this was the only way I could think of doing it, okay?! Just....we'll get this over with and then you can go."

His face stayed flushed, his safety googles too fogged up to see his eyes. You were stunned into silence for a moment, before you tried to reach for his hand. You startled away however, as Crewel's crop hit the edge of the cauldron.

"I take it you two pups are staying on task?"

You gave him a strained smile. "Of course Professor."

Ace silently added the last of the ingredients before using a funnel and ladle to help him add the brew into an Erlynmeyer flask, leaving it open to cool and nodding slightly at it as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That should be it, it just needs to cool and then put a stopper on it."

Crewel grabbed the neck of the flask, his gloves thick enough to withstand the heat as he swirled the contents gently and studied the fluid. He nodded slightly.

"Get some tape, label it properly, then you'll be dismissed. I'll take care of clean up and storage. Well done."

The professor cracked a smile at the two of you as you nodded to acknowledge him, thanking him before moving to join Ace at the desk. He was writing your names, the date, the class - all as expected for the label, but now that you were a little bit away from the professor, you waited for him to put the tape down before holding his hand gently, speaking quietly.

"Ace, time might be a precious commodity, but you're precious to me too, okay? Grim should still be with Deuce and Epel for a little while. Once we get out of here let's go get slurpees or something, okay?"

It took Ace a moment to buffer, his hand coming up to cover his face in an attempt to hide just how flustered being called 'precious' got him. Near immediately, the crack of Crewel's crop was heard, making both of you startle.

"Gloves do not go near your face Trappola. That's a health hazard."

He gave the two of you a bit of a knowing smile as Ace nodded meekly at the reprimand, still reeling from the fact you had just asked him out.

You slid your gloves off and lifted your safety googles, grinning.

"Sound like a deal?"

Ace smiled shyly but tried to play it off as he followed suite.

"You sound like Azul. Yeah, sure, I GUESS we can go get slurpees."

Savanaclaw

Leona:

"You really think you're hot shit, don't you?"

You couldn't help but laugh softly at the lion beastman. This man really tried to kabedon you and expected you to take him seriously. Yeah right. Amusement was written all over your face, which on one hand was a little unexpected, but on the other, just made it all the more entertaining for him too - he didn't mind a challenge if the prize was you.

"I might think something like that, yeah. You got an issue with that herbivore?" His voice carried a bit of a playful growl to it as he leaned in closer, going so far as to nip at your ear lightly.

His ear flicked slightly in annoyance as he backed up just a tiny bit; a group of panicked first years came barreling down the otherwise empty hallway.

"THERE'S TWO MINUTES BEFORE CREWEL SAID IT'S DUE"

"YEAH NO SHIT, BUT HE WASN'T IN HIS CLASS HE BETTER BE IN HIS OFFICE"

"DUDE YOUR SHOELACES-"

"WATCH OUT!!!"

Leona grumbled something about them being a nuisance, but you watched in horror as the poor boy holding the potion he was so urgently trying to get to Crewel tripped over his friends shoelaces. For everyone save for Leona, you're sure time slowed right down as the potion flew out of the boys hand, the stopper flew out of the bottle, and the potion landing all over Kingscholar.

At the very least, the boy who tripped didn't hit the floor as Leona yanked him up by the back of his shirt, growling.

"What the FUCK did you just spill on me?"

The boy was winded and whiplashed, but his friends seemed to be a mix of distraught and trying not to laugh. Leona growled, tossing the boy to the side gently to let him get on his feet, before nodding and growling at the group of bystanders.

"WHAT WAS IT?"

You had to suppress your own laughter as Leona started to shrink in front of you.

One of the boys laughed nervously.

"It's a shrinking potion, it's really nothing dangerous!! And ah- we really really need the mark for Crewel's class so...we're really sorry but we're gonna have to take you in as proof we completed it!!"

Leona looked bewildered, his ears flattened against his head as he growled, though it sounded rather...cute as he continued to shrink.

"No! You touch me I'll turn you to sand!! You're going to regret this!!"

You couldn't help but join in on the giggle fit in the hallway, the once tall and mighty Leona reduced to mere inches. Despite his protesting, you lifted him by the back of his shirt like it was his scruff, poking his chest gently with your other hand.

"Mm, well, I think it's bad enough they'll be getting a 20% dock on their mark, so we're going to help them out and submit you as proof."

Leona growled, his hands holding your finger tightly as if it could do anything to stop you.

"....I'll make it up to you later, or you can choose to refuse but I'm going to tell Malleus about this."

Even at his minuscule size, you could see the flash of anger in his eyes at the mention of Malleus.

"Don't you dare bring this up to the lizard...fine. We'll....we'll go to Crewel's...but if ANY of you breathe a word of this to ANYONE else, turning you to sand will be a show of MERCY."

Ruggie:

"And the crowd goes wild as Ruggie Bucci scores one more goal for Savanaclaw right before half time! He couldn't have cut it closer if he'd tried!"

The announcer kept rambling about one thing or another, but your eyes were on your boyfriend as he, (rightfully), showboated a little on his broom, working the crowd a bit. His smile was downright adorable as he did so, before he finally made eye contact with you and it got a lot more devious.

He shot up on his broom into direct sunlight, so when you tried to follow him with your eyes, it took a few seconds of blinking before you saw him hanging upside down by his knees on his broom in front of you. His tail had to be wagging a mile a minute as he giggled a bit.

"Shyeeheehee heya sweetheart~ you're a real pretty face to be showin' up around here. Y'got a boyfriend?"

This little shit

He knew he was just out of reach for a kiss, and while amused, you tried to conceal it under a mask of being jokingly mad.

"You know, if you had a significant other, they might not be too impressed with these shenanigans."

Ruggie stuck his tongue out a bit.

"I'm pretty confident I'm cute enough to get out of any sort of trouble with them."

Your expression was pretty telling that that was exactly what the case was. He snickered and came close enough to hold your face, teasing you with the possibility of a kiss before he just shed his jacket and tossed it at you instead. The whistle blew, and Ruggie sat back upright on his broom despite the indignant sound you made.

"I'LL KISS YOU AFTER I WIN IT FOR SAVANACLAW!!"

Jack:

Even though the first time you had attended Magift practice at Savanaclaw you had been...given a concussion by Grim via magift disc to the head, it wasn't enough to keep you away for good.

Jack had invited you, (and reluctantly allowed Grim), to come watch morning practice. (But only if you wanted to.)

Before he had even seen you, his ear flicked and his tail started wagging just from recognizing your footsteps. He had to keep his attention on Leona during the brief as a sign of respect, but as soon as Leona dismissed the debrief, he flashed you a bright smile and waved at your spot on the bleachers.

It was clear to everyone playing, Jack was distracted, as he kept glancing over at you after every play, to the point where Leona had to stop the disc from hitting Jack square in the jaw and call a recess.

Jack didn't seem to realize the break was done because of him. You couldn't hear from where you were, but whatever Leona said to Jack made the freshman's ears flatten and tail tuck a bit. Leona shook his head a bit before gently shoving Jack in your general direction, Ruggie looking rather amused at the entire interaction.

Jack approached you, a little bashful and ashamed as he rubbed the back of his neck, averting his eyes.

"Ah...uhm...for some reason...Leona thinks you being around is a distraction to me...which is NOT true, but he doesn't think it's safe for me to play as long as you're here...which is dumb, because...I wasn't distracted."

You couldn't help but grin a little, using your height on the bleachers to meet him right at eye level. You didn't make him look at you, but you knew he certainly felt like he should.

"Wanna look at me and try saying that again?~"

Jack sputtered a bit, his cheeks feeling warm and feeling as if he needed to take a step back as you just gave him a bigger shit eating smile, stepping down from the bleachers until you were right in front of him, trying to get him to look at you, though he covered his face partially with his hand.

"Okay, that's enough, if you keep teasing him he's not gonna be able to focus for the entire day."

Leona sighed, shaking his head and holding his head with three of his fingers.

"I'm surprised his tail isn't sprained from how fast it's been wagging shyeheehee" Ruggie snickered, and you stepped back, shrugging innocently.

"I wasn't teasing, I was just-"

"That's enough I said. You can go wait by the mirror entrance or go back to Ramshackle. Somebodies puppy crush is a hazard to himself, so if he's still acting a fool he'll come meet you soon."

Octavinelle

Azul: (extremely Flirty MC SORRY LKSJHFLKSDJF)

"It's good isn't it?"

As much as he detested that smug tone, there was no way he could deny just how much he had enjoyed the meal you had prepared, ready to offer a trade.

He sighed.

"You're obviously skilled. I would be willing to pay for the recipe in exchange for giving you free food at the end of the night."

The less food waste recorded the better, and you needed to save every cent you could...not to mention, just giving you the trash food at the end of the night would save him the trouble of hiring you, going through the onboarding process, and having to pay you. Hopefully you would go for the free food, considering it enough compensation for the rest of the time you were here.

What he didn't expect, was for you to laugh, taking a seat on his desk and serving another forkful of food, holding it up to his lips.

"Oh come on now Azul. Do you really think I can't provide for myself? I didn't come here for that type of trade~"

Azul felt his cheeks flush, gently pushing the fork aside as he averted his eyes, his mind deciding to entertain a train of thought that was more emotional than logical...surely you weren't implying what he thought you were.

He chanced a glance back at you, only to be met with that...infuriatingly conniving smile he found aggravatingly stunning.

Your smile only widened. "What's wrong Azul? Not in the market for a kiss or two?~" You leaned closer to him, a pathetic squeak leaving him before you heard a very polite clearing of the throat from near the entrance of Azul's office.

"I'm so very sorry if I'm interrupting something, but your next clients are here Azul. It would be rude to keep them waiting." Jade flashed a polite, but strained smile at you, hoping you would get the message.

You sighed softly, blowing a kiss over your shoulder as you left the room.

"Enjoy the rest of your meal Azul~ You've got my number if you want it again!"

Jade: (sorry this doesn't quite fit the bill but I think it's cute)

"It's not much further. Please, be cautious of where you step, the moss can be quite slippery."

You fought to not pant trying to follow Jade. You had only agreed to this hike because he said it was beginner-friendly, and he had seemed SO excited when he had told you about a mushroom species he was eager to find.

Yet here you were, scaling a small waterfall, watching Jade's every step to try and follow for the sake of not DYING.

Maybe that was a bit dramatic, but the point was, whether it was due to embarrassment, or not wanting to get hurt, you didn't plan on falling in front of Jade.

Jade made it up first, offering you a smile and his hand to help pull you up.

Part of you thought about how he might pull you close once you got up, but that was quickly dashed as he kept you nearly an arms length away. A small pout threatened to form on your lips, but you just smiled and thanked him for his assistance. He nodded slightly, before venturing forward.

"The mushrooms I thought I saw shouldn't be much farther. Do make sure you stay cl-"

A yelp left Jade as he slipped on the very moss he had warned you about. You weren't entirely sure what made you think you could catch him, but your body acted before your mind. It must have been the adrenaline, or maybe a desperate need to impress him, because somehow you managed to catch and support the merman before he hit the ground so you could gently place him down, you staring down at him in confusion, and him looking up at you in absolute bewilderment. You weren't exactly what took over, but before Jade could say anything, you could feel a shit eating grin grow on your face as your heart felt as though it was pounding out of your chest.

"Falling for me hard and fast, huh?"

Jade looked shocked, but amused, picking himself off the ground, before matching your height with a small smile as he spoke softly in your ear.

"Did it take you this long to notice?~"

Floyd:

It was 3am.

It was 3 in the fucking morning when you heard a crack from your front door.

And yet, your sense of self-preservation went completely out of the window as the smell of your favourite meal started to fill Ramshackle. Making sure you didn't wake Grim, you gingerly left your bed, curiousity getting the better of you as you made your way down the stairs.

You took a peek at the front door as you came down, expecting splinters, but from what you could see, it was completely fine. You could hear soft humming and scatting coming from the kitchen, giving you a pretty good idea of who was in there. You couldn't help the smile that played over your lips as you watched Floyd use your kitchen utensils as drumsticks, making sure to stop right before they made contact with anything while he vocalized the drumline instead. You assumed it was an attempt to be quiet, but as soon as he heard the floorboards creak, his attention locked onto you and he pushed his headphones back as he beamed.

"Floyd wh-"

"Shrimpyy!!! I got bored and Azul took my key for the Mostro Lounge so I came here. Gotta few recipes I felt like makin', 'nd I know you ain't comin' by food easily. Figured you could be my taste tester in exchange for me usin' your kitchen. Also I broke the lock on your door cuz I lost the key ya gave me, but I fixed it too so don't get mad about it."

If it were anyone else, you may have gotten a little pissy, maybe asked for more of an explanation, but Floyd's animated nature and excitement as he continued his little drumming session had you smiling fondly. You sat at one of the stools on the far side of the island in comparison to Floyd, watching him work.

"I'm fine by that." You couldn't help but wonder a little bit, what had kept Floyd up this late, but you knew asking would likely only kill his mood, and that was the last thing you wanted. Not just because he was cooking FOR you, but he seemed so happy doing so...it wasn't worth it, he was clearly distracting himself with whatever kept him up with this.

By serving you.

Your mind wandered to a few other times Floyd had looked out for you in his...unique way. You must have zoned out for longer than you thought, as you were brought back to the present as Floyd waved a piece of food in front of you. He looked at you expectantly.

"Well are ya gonna have a taste?"

Your eyes flicked up to his mismatched ones as you offered a mischievous smile.

"Of the food or your lips?"

His eyes widened slightly, before he started giggling, then leaned over the island.

"Well I wouldn't be opposed t'ya tryin' both~"

You were so close to him, your stomach and heart doing flips just as you leaned in and-

"MRAH?! FLOYD???! GET AWAY FROM MY HENCH HUMAN!!"

Possibly the fastest you'd ever witnessed Grim move, he launched himself at Floyd's face, managing to land a kick and effectively move you and Floyd apart.

The food he had offered you plopped unceremoniously onto the counter as Floyd made a spitting noise, and Grim stood protectively, panting, staring Floyd down.

"That's right! Ya better not be scarin' my hench human! You're lucky all you got was a mouthful of fur, I'll light you up next time!!"

After a beat of silence, Floyd started to giggle.

"Ehee~ Seaaaalie, ya sure got some nerve interrupti-"

"Aha, you were hidin' food!! I can't believe you did this, I thought you loved me prefect." Grim's ears folded down, the pout audible in his voice as he scooped up the food that had landed on the counter, oblivious to the now murderous glare Floyd was giving him.

You couldn't help but chuckle, getting up just enough to move closer to Floyd. With the cat distracted and fanboying over the food, it was easier to relinquish Floyd's anger without another interruption. You grabbed his shirt and tugged him to you, grinning.

"I missed out on tasting that bite, but I won't miss out on enjoying you~"

Scarabia

Kalim:

You were just sitting on the front steps of Ramshackle, watching as the sunset painted the sky in beautiful red, orange, pink and purple hues. A slight breeze kept the lingering heat of the day at bay, the only sound you could hear being the slight chirping of birds. Grim was currently, at least supposedly, with Ace and Deuce at Heartslaybul, meaning all three thirds of the braincell were not your responsibility.

God was life always this boring without them around?? Yeah, sure, the peace and quiet could be nice but it felt weird now, where was the drama, the tension, the shenanigans, the tomfoolery?? You rubbed your face with your hands, groaning a bit out loud. Were you seriously so wired to this world's madness now that a moment of peace felt like you were just waiting for something to go wrong?

".....MC?"

Your head shot up, to the voice that was coming from above you.

"Kalim?? What are you doing here?" You smiled, moving to stand up as he descended slightly on his carpet, somewhat dismissing his concerned expression.

"Ah- well um, I was gonna come and ask if you wanted to come to Scarabia tonight for a party! But then I got in trouble with Jamil and he didn't know the party was gonna happen so I didn't want to throw it anymore, but I still wanted to hang out with you! If you're not busy that is. I can take you on a magic carpet ride!"

Oh thank the sevens, someone was going to relieve you of your weird, anxious boredom.

"Scooch over, I'm getting on." There was a lilt of amusement to your voice as you clambered on behind Kalim, wrapping your arms around him, gently resting your cheek against his shoulder. He giggled softly in response, making sure that the two of you rose slowly away from the ground.

"Where'd you wanna go? I can take you over the school, we could go to the field and cheer on the track team, we could even go to the beach! Ah, but if Jamil caught us he might get grumpy, so maybe we should stay on campus."

You hummed softly. "Honestly, I just want company right now. If you just take us to the top of NRC and let us watch the sunset together, that'll be more than enough for me right now."

"I can do that!! Hold on to me, okay??" You nodded a bit against his shoulder, and he took off.

Though he had to speak a bit louder over the rush of wind in your ears, you could hear him perfectly well as he spoke.

"You know, back home, there's a story about this sort of thing, there's even a song! I'll sing it to you if you want!"

"It might be better if you wait until we stop flying-"

"Nonono, part of the whole appeal is singing WHILE flying." He glanced back at you, his puppy dog eyes working their own kind of magic before you silently agreed. His expression lit up immediately as he began to sing.

"I can show you the woAGHOU"

Kalim's hand went to beat on his chest, causing you to yelp as the two of you started to careen forward. You reached forward and tugged up on the magic carpet, narrowly avoiding running into the school and sent the two of you sprawling into the grass instead.

You were glad your hands made contact with the ground first; it made it somewhat easier to help roll Kalim away from eating dirt, and to stop yourself from colliding into his back.

It took a moment for both of you to collect yourselves after you hit the ground, but in less than thirty seconds you were both on your knees, looking at each other. Somehow you managed to ask at the exact same time, "are you okay??!", followed by a beat of silence, and then laughter.

Jamil: (this killed me to write so I'm sorry it's not as good as the other ones/not quite the same)

Jamil had invited you to the Scalding Sands. Rather, Kalim had beat him to the punch, as there was an event going on he wanted you to attend. Jamil had offered to let you come with him a day or two before, seeing as he was supposed to be there early to assist his parents with preparations. As if he needed to entice you further, (and convince Kalim it was a good idea), he offered to give you a tour of the palace.... nobody wanted you to be victim to the expansive maze that the Al-Asim's property was after all.

Well, that was the excuse you both rolled with.

The streets were buzzing with energy, vendors calling out everywhere, sights and smells and sounds of the market filling your senses, but your focus was on something else entirely.

Jamil wasn't a touchy person, but he had been the one to take your hand. His hand held onto yours firmly, leading you with confidence through the bustling streets of Silk City. Despite the errands you were running with him, he insisted on being the one to hold everything. He was also incredibly patient as he stopped anytime you inquired about something.

However, it was him who slowed down upon seeing a small crowd congregate around what you could only assume was some sort of street performer, music playing. He had brushed past most others, but he worked his way through the crowd, seemingly curious to see who was at the center of attention. No sooner had you made it to the front of the crowd that one of the dancers lit up and called out to Jamil, greeting him as if they were old friends.

"Do you know them?"

Jamil had a bit of a mischievous smile on his face. "You could say that."

You quirked your brow as his 'friend(?)' came over, the two of them speaking rapidly in Arabic as they shared a quick hug. Jamil switched back into English, introducing you to his friend.

His friend wore a bit of shit eating smile. "You know Jamil dances, right? Did you ever wonder how he learned?"

"Now hold on, don't go crediting yourself for that, I taught myself."

"If you count flailing like a monkey as dancing, then yes, you did, but as an art? You only got to where you're at because of me."

Jamil tsked and rolled his eyes, waving his friend off, though it was clear it was light hearted.

"You haven't seen me dance in ages."

"Right, I'm sure you've had pleeeenty of time to practice at that fancy college of yours."

You couldn't help but interrupt their bickering by taking everything from Jamil's hands and shoving him forward a bit.

"Just let him show you what he's got."

Both of them looked at you in slight disbelief, but amused.

"MC we really don't have the ti-"

"Are you scared of embarrassing yourself Viper? Come on, if your date says you're as good as you claim you still are, you should have no issue joining us for one song. Just like old times."

His friend could see the gears in both of your heads come to a screeching halt, even if for just a moment. Sure, you had wanted it to be something like that, but hearing it put so bluntly...

You wrapped your arm around Jamil's waist with a shit-eating grin, ignoring the rising heat to your own cheeks.

"My boyfriend plays down his abilities all the time. I hope you're ready to be humbled." Before pushing him into the middle of the ring.

Despite his slightly flustered state, you could have sworn you heard him whisper about how he would get you back for that, a promise you could only hope he would keep.

Pomefiore

Vil:

"I told you to stop moving." His voice, though slightly irritated was just as amused as you struggled to stop laughing.

"But it tickles. Can't I just put it on with my hands?"

An offended gasp left Vil as he tilted your face slightly, brushing on more of the facemask. "No you heathen, we can't just apply it with our hands."

"What if. I washed my hands super super well." His expression left you giggling again as he sighed and pulled the brush away, his faux frustration melting away to a soft smile, shaking his head.

"Sometimes even I struggle to tell when you're just teasing or when you're serious." He chuckled softly, reapplying a bit of product to the brush to continue putting it on your face. You tried not to scrunch your nose, but sevens, he was applying it so lightly it felt weird!

As absorbed as you were in the feeling of the brush, he considered what your reaction might be if he were to kiss you this very moment. He knew that of all the people in the school, he was the only one who had achieved this level of casual intimacy. As good as he was at reading other people's emotions, the nagging anxiety of reading you, specifically, wrong could be the end of the friendship he held so dear. Of course, even if you were to reject him, you were both old enough to be mature about it, but rejection was not something Vil handled well.

He was pulled from his thoughts as he realized just how close he had gotten. Hell, your breathing had hitched at his closeness, eyes wide as your mind raced with possibilities. Vil SO wanted to kiss you in that moment, but his door flung open with a bang, startling the two of you apart. Vil shot the intruder a dirty look.

Epel was out of breath, bent over, pale and wincing as he looked to his housewarden in his P.E uniform, not noticing you there.

"I SHOT ROOK."

Vil's face went from mildly frustrated to near fear for his vice housewarden, until the mans laugh from down the hall echoed into the room.

"Oui. I believe it's nothing major, but you are more versed in healing magic than I am Vil."

Rook came into view, holding an arrow that was firmly lodged into his shoulder, his smile subdued from pain, but genuine.

Vil immediately came over, getting over his initial shock and ire in favour of helping Rook.

You got up from the bed, mostly with the intention of teasing Epel, but he took one glance at you and couldn't help but laugh breathlessly.

"You look like y'got mayo on your face."

"You're about to have disappointment on yours."

"Huh?"

You nodded towards Vil , who evidently didn't feel confident in removing the arrow at the dorm, chiding Rook for coming to him instead of going to the infirmary.

"If that's the talking to Rook's getting, I can only imagine yours."

"....aw shit."

Rook: (insert distressed Sebek emoji I've become far too reliant on on Discord to convey my Feelings because I'm Just Hoping this suffices for the Rook Fans.)

You could hear knocking at the door, light, but insistent. You were slightly annoyed - Grim could open the door by himself...at least he could if he were home. You forgot that you had given him "permission", (AKA, you had begged Vil to let Epel keep him around for a night to give yourself a night to relax), to go to a "sleepover".

So who was knocking at your bedroom door?

You felt a wave of anxiety wash over you, until a soft voice came from beyond the door.

"Mon trickster, I know you are awake. May I come in?"

Your brain needed a moment to buffer before you responded.

"Rook?"

As if there was any question about it, you chided yourself a tiny bit, but Rook took it as an invitation to come in, smiling warmly and waving a bit as he entered the room.

"Bonjour. I was hoping to whisk you away for a mome-"

"What are you doing here??"

Your question was as amused as it was...a little concerned.

"Why didn't you knock at the front door?"

Rook tilted his head a bit, as if he were surprised you were questioning him.

"Ah, I did, but upon not getting a response and knowing you were up, I let myself in. Do not fret, nothing is broken. I wouldn't want to leave you without a reliable lock on your door. However, I do respect your privacy, so I knocked before coming into your bedroom."

He smiled softly as you wondered just how reliable that lock was, before Rook continued.

"As for my presence in our home, I was hoping to treat you to a relaxing night. I know Monsieur Fuzzball is currently occupied."

He fully stepped into the room, and only then did you note the picnic basket in his hand, complete with a blanket on top. The flash of interest didn't go unnoticed by Rook - why would it? He smiled and held it up a little bit.

"These are the leftovers of the food I helped some of the dorm members make, undetected by Vil. I thought we could have a few snacks while we stargaze...then again, I could gaze at the most lovely star I know if we were to stay inside."

A sly smile grew as he winked at you playfully, causing you to look away a little bit.

"So? What do you say my dear?"

Somehow, when you lifted your head again to look at him, he was next to your bed and awaiting your answer with a fond expression.

You couldn't help but push his face away a bit, laughing a little flustered as you got out of bed, causing him to giggle a bit too.

"We can go up. I would love to stargaze with you."

At least, you would have.

Rook had shown you how to get up there, your common sense returning as you remembered just how dilapidated Ramshackle was when you showed up- you hadn't spent nearly as much time fixing up the outside of Ramshackle as you had on the inside. You scooted yourself nervously onto the ledge, just enough to be secure, though Rook reassured you he had done this dozens of times, (he had?), and there was no reason to worry.

Despite his reassurance, he let you stay where you were so he could set up the blanket, walking confidently and lightly across Ramshackle's roof. There was a comfortable silence between the two of you, crickets chirping and the buzz of other insects filling the air, as well as the now familiar creaks and groans of the old house settling beneath you two.

Rook hummed softly, satisfied with the set up and came back to get you, his hand outstretched. He smiled warmly, the moonlight only serving to make his already attractive features more stunning.

"Will you join me for our date, mon tri-"

Just as you reached out for his hand, both of you heard a loud creak. Despite his best efforts, Rook let out a soft, but discernable "Merde" as he fell through Ramshackles roof, laying winded in the attic on his back trying to gather his thoughts.

Obviously concerned, you peeked into the sizeable hole in your roof, peering down at the blond.

"....Are you okay????"

You tried to suppress your laughter, but at his slightly bewildered look, followed by a grin and thumbs up, both of you bubbled into giggles.

He stood up, then reached out towards you.

"I'll catch you. We can continue down here instead my dear."

You smiled and slid your legs over the hole, letting it be future you's problem as you hummed, giving him a cheeky grin.

"Promise? Because I've already fallen for you a hundred times before."

His eyes widened slightly, before smiling a little bit more.

"Then this time, I promise to catch you and never let you fall again, mon amour."

Epel: (this one is different sorry)

You could see him, just barely, peeking through the classroom doors narrow window. The tell tale purple poof of hair was hard to miss.

Evidently, Crewel's class had gotten out a little early, and here you were between Ace and Deuce, listening to Trein drone on about something he already covered. With Passion. You held in a ragged sigh, glancing at the clock on the wall, willing for the seconds to tick by faster.

Finally, the bell rang, Trein's voice being drowned out by the shuffling of bags and students making their way to the door.

In all the hubbub, you had managed to get squished in an Adeuce sandwich as they walked you out the door, Ace's teasing voice lilting in amusement.

"Where ya runnin' off to so fast preeeeefect? Got a special someone waitin' for you?"

Deuce chimed in, though gentler in his tone.

"I saw a certain someone looking at you through the window....mostly 'cus Lucius meowed at him peeking, but-"

You groaned, elbowing them both in the ribs as you saw fit, shaking them off your shoulders. Gods you hated to love them and loved to hate them the little shits. You and Epel were just friends. That was all there was to it. Grumbles and giggles followed behind you from the two of them as you managed to make it out of the classroom.

You were just friends.

....then why did your stomach do a flip when you looked at Epel and he greeted you with that boyish grin of his?

Ignihyde

Idia: (also don't come after me for nobody recognizing Lilia's voice assume he has a voice changer or something idk)

"Brb, my brother needs me for something."

You and Muscle Red responded softly, hearing as "Gloomurai" AKA "Gloomy" AKA Idia Shroud got up from his desk, leaving you and his friend alone.

Now, you only knew it was Idia because you usually would game together in his room, so it wasn't like he didn't know it was you on the other side either, you just had finally had the means to get your own set up and wanted to test it out. Idia and Muscle Red had plans already, but neither of them minded you joining them as you had a couple times before.

But you and Red had never been left together before. And just like IRL, being left with a friends friend left some amount of awkwardness to be had.

You held in a breath of relief as Red spoke up.

"So, how long have you and Gloomy known each other?"

"Just under a year. We go to the same school together."

"Oho? You've met in person then? Forgive me if I'm being invasive, but please do tell, what's he like? We've been online friends for years, I can't help but be a teensy bit curious about the man behind the screen."

You waited a beat. You knew part of the reason that Idia didn't share much about his personal life was because of his reasoning behind not wanting to ever feel too close to the people he connecting with online...yet Red was one of his best friends. And you wouldn't overshare, you could just share your thoughts on him. Besiiiides it wasn't like Idia would hear you gushing about him to his friend, he had left his desk to go help Ortho with something.

"....well...Gloomy is a pretty introverted guy but...as I've gotten to know him better? He can be really sweet, and passionate about the things he loves. He's a little shy and awkward, but I think it's part of his charm. He's also, just. Gorgeous. But don't tell him I said that."

Mischievous laughter came from Red as an audible "Idia dying" sound came through your headphones.

"You know, after being able to know our dear friend, I would have thought you'd have known Gloomurai wears Bluetooth headphones." You felt a little embarrassed as Red chuckled again.

"I told you Gloomy, that they liked you back. You've got no doubt about it now. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone~"

The telltale blip of him disconnecting left the two of you in incredibly awkward silence, until Idia had the guts to ask.

"D...d-do you really think all that?"

Ortho: (platonic, obviously)

"Ah, there you are Prefect, I tried to call and text, I even dropped by Ramshackle to see if you were there, how courteous am I to have sought you out to hand deliver your tasks for the week, aren't I just the best?"

Ortho could all but see the light drain from not only your eyes, but your expression as a whole as Crowley continued to ramble on about his generous nature.

How dare he? This was supposed to be you and him time. You had even less time than Idia to dedicate to hanging out together, because of how hard you worked for the headmage.

Before you really had a chance to acknowledge the headmage, Ortho got in between the two of you, getting in Crowley's face a little bit, floating to ensure the man would see him eye to eye.

"You're interrupting my time with the prefect sir. This is my one and only warning for you to stop."

Crowley took a slight step back, flabbergasted at the boys behaviour before he brushed his outfit down as if he was calming ruffled feathers.

"Well...I really must speak to the prefect Ortho, it's no small matter and you're far too young to underst-"

"I gave you a warning Sir. If it's no small matter, then it's probably your responsibility anyways. Instead of pawning off your less than desirable tasks to the prefect, why don't you think a little harder about what sort of stress that puts them under when they've already dealt with overblots completely unassisted. They've done more than enough for you and the school, and will no longer be at your beck and call, mkay? My brother and I can make sure they get the money they need so they don't have to work for you at all anymore. So now, you know that they won't be doing your dirty work anymore, you and your shadow can go back to your office and be the pathetic mess of a man you are on your own because you've got no friends, no family, and no significant relationships in your life to ease the ache of loneliness. Goodbye."

Without waiting for a response, Ortho grabbed the headmage by the shoulders and turned him away from you, giving him a light push towards the school before returning to your side.

"I know where we can find some really cool rocks, follow me!!"

DIASOMNIA (RIP my braincells, sorry guys)

Malleus: I'm so sorry this man. It's more platonic than anything.

"See that one? It's modeled after Corvus corax, the Common raven. And that gargoyle is similar, though the subtle differences imply it's modeled after Corvus corone, the Carrion crow."

He smiled rather proudly at you, glad to share and show off his knowledge to someone he cared for so deeply.

"What do you think?"

"I think I like the fox grotesque more."

A small 'hm?' left Draconia, a bit of a look of shock on his face until he registered that you were teasing, a playful smile playing over his lips.

"Only you would jest with me so casually Child of Man." He chuckled softly, patting your head. "Thank you for accompanying me today for club hours. I've rather enjoyed having someone else to speak to."

He turned towards you more, gently taking your face in his hand, rubbing your cheek gently with his thumb.

"It's not often I feel as appreciated as I do with you. Thank you, for everything you've do-"

"WAKASAMAAAAA"

Sebek's pathetic bleating drew both of your attention, an almost annoyed sounding huff leaving Malleus as he let go of your face, though stepped closer to you as Silver and Sebek ran up to the both of you.

"Wakasama, we've been looking for you everywhere! We were so worried-"

"We were not..."

"That we may never find you again!!"

"You're so dramatic..." Silver shook his head a bit, sighing.

"Apologies Malleus. Fa- Lilia sent for you. He went to your meeting for you and wants to fill you in."

He wore a slight pout on his lips, but nodded.

"I understand. Thank you Silver." He turned towards you, offering a slight bow. "I'll see you in due time, child of man. Until next time."

Lilia: (a little different, sorry)

"Kehehehe, are you excited prefect?"

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes. Of course of all the people you could have been paired with for home ec. you got Lilia Vanrouge....not that you minded entirely, he was pretty cute.

But being cute didn't get you good grades, and it certainly didn't improve your cooking ability.

You tapped the end of your wooden spoon against his nose.

"I'll be excited if you and I can pull this off successfully. No experimenting with the recipe, okay?"

Lilia sighed dramatically, sticking out his tongue.

"Fine. Ruin my fun. That's fine." He giggled a bit afterwards, scooping the recipe card up just as Crewel placed it down, not giving you so much as a glance at it.

"Alright, you ready? Let me read the ingredients to you."

You gave him a bit of a dirty look, only to be greeted with a wide grin. He took the spoon from your hand, gently booping your nose back.

"Aw come on~ you trust me, don't you? And you already took away my other fun, let me have this!"

Despite your better judgement, you relented.

He kept his promise- everything seemed reasonable as he read it out to you.

"Whisk two cups of AP flour, two and a half teaspoons of baking powder and a pinch of salt in a large bowl."

"Got it."

"Then beat the eggs until aerated, and slowly add the sugar. While you add sugar to the eggs, give me a kiss to give me some sugar too. By the time we're done, the eggs should be triple their size."

"Got- huh"

You turned around, bewildered at what you had heard, to see Lilia's cheeky grin.

"Well prefect, are you gonna follow the recipe card?"

You gave him a playful smile, gently pushing his face away from yours, leaving you both in giggles.

"I'll follow what the card actually says....and if this turns out, maybe I'll give you that kiss."

Silver:

"This is my favourite place to feed the wild rabbits....I know it's not great for them, but they deserve a little treat every once in a while just like everyone else."

Silver's voice was soft as a small group of wild rabbits hopped around the two of you, as if they were pets. The two of you sat under the shade of one of the many apple trees of Night Raven College. Silver used a dagger to expertly cut into the ripe, unbruised apples he had picked out for the rabbits, claiming they deserved better than the fallen fruit.

You watched him, how focused he was, yet how soft he looked under the dappled shadows casted on him from the leaves above. He caught you watching, glancing at you and cracking just the slightest smile as he cut a piece of the apple and handed it to you,

"The grey one is super friendly. You can try feeding it. You'll probably be allowed to pet her too."

You thanked him softly, so as not to startle your furry friends and heeded his advice. You weren't exactly surprised when his advice paid off, though you still let out a soft sound of content as the bunny hopped into your lap, allowing you to pet it gently.

You heard Silver hum softly. "She really likes you. You should come here with me more often."

You couldn't help but smile a little shyly at that. "I would lo-"

"HEY WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING??!!!"

Kalim's piercing voice cut through the quiet, peaceful environment the two of you had, startling all of you, but most of all the rabbits as they scattered and disappeared into the bushes, making Silver sigh softly in disappointment before offering you a small smile.

"We can get them back after. Let me talk to Kalim. I'll be right back." His gaze lingered a moment longer than it should have before he got up. You felt a bit of a funny feeling in your chest as you entertained the thought of him kissing you, trying to erase the thought before he would be able to tell.

Sebek:

"How did you even manage this human?"

Sebek had to bite his tongue, trying to keep his voice down so as to not spook your horse.

Somehow, your boot had slipped all the way through the stirrup, but nothing you or he did got your foot or boot loose enough to pull it back through. He tried to pull your boot off too, but that had just hurt.

You were trying really hard to not laugh. Yes it was inconvenient and uncomfortable, but how you managed to get yourself in this position was as funny to you as it was frustrating to Sebek.

You had asked Riddle for assistance at first, but Silver had called his attention over for something more pressing, so he had appointed Sebek to help you.

Sebek let out a frustrated bellow as yet another attempt was met with no progress, your horse side stepping away from him anxiously. You patted your horse gently and just looked at Sebek apologetically.

"You can just wait til Riddle or Silver can help with magic. It's not like the pain is unbearable."

"No. I was tasked with releasing you from your saddle. I will complete what has been required of me. Excuse me."

He knelt down to undo the saddle from beneath, and you got the hint, trying to move your foot out of the way best you could to let him do so.

He stood back up, and gestured to get you to get your horse to lay down so he could be taller. He offered his arms to you.

"Hold onto me. I'll make sure the saddle comes with you so it doesn't tug on your ankle."

Of course, it was just as your arms wrapped around Sebeks neck that Riddle came back, making a bit of a flustered noise at the sight of the two of you so close to each other.

"What is going on here?!!"

Sebek reeled, ducking his head out from your hands, flushed.

"NOTHING."

You looked rather unamused between the two biggest sticks in the mud you knew and gestured at your foot, still firmly stuck in the stirrups of your saddle.

"I'm still just trying to be granted sweet release."

--------------------------------------- RAHHHHH GOOD GOD I FINALLY FINISHED IT

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OTL

Hopefully it lives up to expectation <3

----------------------------- Tag list:

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

@nyx-of-night @sickle-stick @distant-velleity @nemisisnemi @amatsuchan-eiliniel @random-twst-and-oc-stuff

I'm so tired BYE I love you guys

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Grannies - Part 4 (Finale)

Summary: Gordon's committed to the bit. The bit just happens to be an obnoxious amount of granny squares.

A/N- In the finale: warning for a bit of whump. Whole lotta love though. Words for this part come to 2K.

Part 1 here | Part 2 here | Part 3 here | AO3

Thank yous: craftyfam, patient readers, my yarn stash for inspiration, Kat for the read through and assuring me this was post ready. FFXIV I can't thank you because you are a menace and a distraction no matter how much I love you.

*****

Part 4: Finale

Because Gordon never goes half-assed into anything, Virgil is still finding granny squares. 

He has to keep reminding himself that he appreciates Gordon’s dedication. He actually relies on this part of his brother’s character. Frequently, in fact. 

But as he pries a stray granny square out of his sock drawer and tosses it into the project basket housing its companions, Virgil has to roll his eyes. Fondly of course. In the project management world, they call this scope creep - with no real end in sight, the project keeps getting bigger and more involved, and it’s all too easy for it to just keep living on indefinitely. But then, Gordon is one big Scope Creep anyway since he was never one for boundaries in the first place. 

His definition of an appropriate time to stop was very different from Virgil’s. 

At this point, the new square isn’t anything Virgil hasn’t seen before. He knows by now what to expect from Gordon’s work. And, honestly, it’s just like Gordon to somehow manage to desensitize Virgil away from everything he knows about color theory, however briefly. So, neither the presence of the piece of fabric nor the color combination provides any shock value anymore. 

What it does do is remind him that he’s got his own project balancing to do. That of actually… you know… finishing the damn thing. And figuring out what to do with the rest of the squares, he reminds himself as he slides on his socks and laces up his boots for the day. 

The newest acquisition - two rounds of golden yellow followed by two rounds of aubergine purple and a final in white - doesn’t look as visually discordant alongside its peers, the scrambled rainbow they are.  They are all the ones that didn’t make the cut for Gordon’s afghan, the  squares Virgil keeps finding anew, and inevitably the future ones Gordon will continue to make until he receives another lightning strike of an idea.

Right beside it is a second project basket. Gordon likes a big blanket, so enough squares to fit a king sized bed are already packed up and labeled in their sequential order. As he’s had time, Virgil has started sewing them together based on the design Scott helped with. There’s enough space still for him to store the bolt of fabric John helped him find too, once it finally arrives. 

Virgil’s grateful for their help, and their part in the project has made it just that bit more special. He hopes Gordon feels that way too. It took Scott reminding him that it wasn’t his own aesthetic he was trying to please for the design to come together. Otherwise, Virgil has no doubt what he would’ve designed would’ve been lesser for his own misery trying to force order into chaos. 

Somehow, with the power of math, Scott’s perspective on patterns and probability and randomization had been just the ticket. Gordon also probably hadn’t realized just how many squares he’d made that started with the shade of yellow or orange or his typical bright shades. Just that little bit of consistency was all he and Scott needed to figure the rest out as they laid out the squares. It wasn’t a pattern, a fade, or even entirely randomized. But a couple edits later, they had the final layout, the squares numbered, and Virgil had gotten to work joining his own granny stitches into his brother’s work in the only color Gordon considered “neutral” - yellow. 

Unable to resist the smile it brings, Virgil tugs the blanket out of the basket and unfolds the two rows he’s finished, with the third halfway complete. It doesn’t bother him that his connecting yarn is still live - the hook has his last loop stabbed into the working skein, and even if it does come unraveled a little, crochet is not so difficult to start again. 

It had taken a few tries to find the right hook to help him match Gordon’s stitches. Even though Virgil taught him a few years ago, no two makers’ work was exactly alike. And Gordon was as carefree with his gauge as he was in the rest of his life. 

Excitement thrums through him; it’s morning, the birds are chirping, and he’s feeling motivated and productive. The crochet work is soft in his hands, the next square in the sequence visible in the project basket below but hiding the rest of the queue for the third row. It’s the perfect day to grab some coffee, hide away in his studio for a few hours, and let the project surprise him. 

That’s the way a WIP should work: it should inspire along the way. 

Virgil has just thrown a towel over the basket to make it seem like it could be laundry - just in case he runs into a wayward squid - when the alarm in his room sounds and John’s voice comes over comms. 

They have a rescue. 

~*~

Virgil awakes to the smell of antiseptic and the uncomfortable feeling that his mouth tastes like cotton. 

Something about that makes him want to giggle, except he can’t actually do that. 

“Easy, Virg.” Hands, soothing, graze his hairline. “They’ve got you on the good stuff.”

He can tell. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet to know if he’s in a hospital or the infirmary, nor does he know what happened to land him there.

Based on the cotton in his throat and in his head and in his lungs, maybe he ate Gordon’s blanket. 

The giggle turns into a groan. 

“You’re okay now. Rest, Virgil.” 

Since the voice is Scott, he does so.

~*~

The next time he remembers waking, he’s in the infirmary on the island. Again, this he knows not because he’s opened his eyes to figure it out, but because his senses tell him so. Only one brother knows sea shanties enough to be familiar with that one and, if Gordon is here humming it, they’re both definitely not in a hospital.

The words he wants to say trudge through the molasses on their way out.

“Wha’ happ’n?” 

“Virgil!” It’s surprise, and excitement, and relief all rolled into one, but Gordon has the good sense to keep his voice low once the original shock of him waking settles.  

Gordon knows the drill well, his voice barely above a whisper as he closes the blinds and scoops some ice chips into a cup. Virgil’s grateful for the gentle way he moves about the room; he can hear him shuffling around, dictating as he goes. By the time Gordon returns with the cup of blessed relief for the feeling in his esophagus, Virgil has managed to tearily blink his eyes half-open. 

Beneath his brother’s brushed fringe hides a bruise the size of a fist, purpling so harshly at his hairline that Virgil ignores the ice chip Gordon offers him in favor of reaching up to check the injury out for himself. Immediately, his body protests the movement, and Gordon urges him to lower his arm back to the support of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe don’t try that?” Gordon waves him off. “I’m fine. What do you remember?” 

Through the pain in his lower half and the color of Gordon’s face, the memories of the rescue come back clearer. Unfortunately, of all things, they’d been called out to a mudslide. He’d checked Gordon out in the field, he remembers. A panicked civilian with a wayward right hook while Gordon was calming his husband. The man had been incredibly apologetic, and Gordon assured him no harm was done, but Virgil pulled him off duty as a concussion risk and left him in Two with  Grandma talking to him.

Then, when Virgil went after a lifesign in a toppling two-story… 

“A house hit me.” 

“Well, more mud than house. You’re ok though. You were buried from the waist up. Had some compartment syndrome. Everything you’re feeling - or not - is temporary.”  

“You came to get me.” Virgil could argue that grounded meant grounded, that Gordon should never’ve gone after him in such dangerous conditions, that he’s the big brother and Gordon’s the little one and he should keep himself safe when he’s told to do so. But there’s a challenge in his little brother’s warm honey eyes already, and he remembers faintly words spoken in worry and fear, assurances that tighten in a coil around his heart.

“I did. There wasn’t anyone else.”  

He owes Gordon everything.

Virgil hums, “Thank you.”

Between the pain medication and water soothing the grittiness in his throat, he feels more aware by the minute and ready to try sitting up for a time. Gordon helps him settle a few pillows into position and raises the head of the infirmary bed to the appropriate level. He’s got to let Scott know he’s awake - and Grandma -  Gordon tells him. Before either of them decide to have scolded Squid for dinner. 

Virgil doesn’t have the energy to chuckle, but it does as he knows Gordon intended: leave him with a smile for the few moments Gordon needs to step away to communicate Virgil’s situation. 

His heart is music, his soul is color. Where sound is oversaturated with the wisps and hums of machinery tracking his vitals, his heartbeat in rhythm, color becomes his touchstone. Outside the window will be the cerulean of the sky and sea. Green, which he thinks in its most basic form because it’s every combination of the hue throughout the robust plant-life of their Island. Dandelion yellow - the sun and safety and Gordon’s baldric. 

Past the shut blinds, it’s all just a sliver. More prominently, there’s just white and infirmary clean grey.  He has to blink away the dullness, as he tears his gaze away from the window and finally musters the strength to glance at himself and especially at his lower half past the pain where Gordon promised his lack of feeling, muted through painkillers, was temporary. 

Color, so much of it that it’s blinding, greets him with the neon of signage amidst the Las Vegas cityscape and the celebration of the New York Pride parade they attend each year. The blanket draped across his lap is authentic Gordon through and through, in familiar squares assembled in a chaos true to their variety. No rhyme, no reason. 

So much care. 

“Grandma will be in shortly.” Gordon plops into the chair at his side, wiggling in the armchair to reacquire the work he’d placed on the seat cushion. He catches him looking, wide-eyed. “It’s not your project, promise. Though I did bring it in for you to work on when you’re feeling better. It’s over by the holoscreen whenever you want me to bring it over. You’ll be here for a bit healing, so I figured…” He shrugs, trailing off. 

“Gordon?” He slides his fingers between the stitches and curls them gratefully into soft, comforting colors. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m - uh -” Gordon flushes in dim light. “I’m weaving in my ends finally,” he admits, holding up the darning needle. “Sorry if you had another idea for the squares, but once I finished putting yours together, I realized we had enough still to donate some more blankets and those really should be finished.” Gordon weaves a red tail end back and forth between the strands the way Virgil taught him, and the way their mom taught Virgil. “I really did go a little overboard on granny squares didn’t I? I just figured it would be okay for me to help you along. So you could finish what you were working on. Was that ok?”

“More than.” 

It also tells him a significant amount about how serious his injuries were and how long he might have been out of commission, if Gordon’s found the time to finish as much as he has. The concern for what he’s put his family through spikes his heartbeat again, and his younger brother glances up to check on him, the monitors, back at him.

Virgil gives him a weary smile, tugging the blanket further up his chest. “I’m ok,” he assures him. “Thanks to you.” 

“Don’t do it again,” he admonishes, shaking his head.

Neither of them can promise the other, not in their line of work, and they both know it. 

The words go unspoken, but they are woven delicately in the strands of their gifts to each other. Virgil feels the care against his skin, in colors that chase away greys, and soft cotton that sifts fear and worry out through openwork patterning. And when Grandma finally makes her way in to check in on him, his heart is so full with the chance he’s been given, the support he’s always had by the people he cares for, that the love hits him with a wave of exhaustion. 

Into sleep he falls, deeply into dreamless rest by the time Grandma finishes her checks and  Gordon tucks him in with a thankful salute to the stars above.

The End

[ratboydipshit]

yakuza 3 rant - no story spoilers, very minor optional minigame spoilers

i honestly didnt expect to enjoy yakuza 3 as much as i have been. im incapable of focusing on one game to play extensively but somehow i've been playing yakuza games back-to-back for weeks now. i was expecting myself to hit a brick wall with 3 and at first i didn't like it very much but it's quickly become one of my favorites now that im getting close to the end

i was just watching gameplay from the original ps3 version and had a moment of crisis seeing how long the load times were just going from city streets to a bar and back. honestly i feel like i would probably have given up on it before the end of chapter 5 if i had to sit through that shit jesus fucking christ.

...oh my fucking god the hostess club management minigame makes you enter and exit the dressing room 3 times per shift, then kicks you out to the street at the end of the shift. you have to do 10-20 shifts to get your hostess to #1 and also you have 5 hostesses that need to be done sequentially. that's optimistically like 50 shifts with 10 loading screens for each shift. doing that shit off of a blu-ray would have killed me it took at least 4 hours when i did it off an ssd

[snellymain]

who are your art inspirations?

Oh gosh, a lot of people. All of my artist friends and mutuals inspire me pretty much every day, but I can't list em all, so ,,, here's some less obvious answers!

I'd say it's mainly comic artists who can consistently do super loose and fun sequential art that feels fresh everytime, with the occasional illustrative piece. Artists with fun interesting shading styles or somehow no shading at all, yet still managing to make absolutely captivating pieces that feel rendered in comic form, while not looking like "too much" or too polished.

^^ First artist that comes to mind when I'm asked about inspirations is the visual mastermind behind Saga, Fiona Staples, her stuff just itches my brain SO right because it feels really… real? Despite the stuff she draws being absolutely crazy shit, the expressions and looseness of it and just the raw feelings is so cool… I appreciate how her illustrations still look like her sequential stuff, it's always very "in the moment" ykno. It's hard for me to read Saga in a single focused sitting because I just end up distracted with art inspo the whole time HAHA-

^^ As far as art styles go, I'm well aware of how much I've taken and learned from IncaseArt, which is kinda.. Funny. Don't look him up if you're a minor lol. If you recognize this No You Don't. Regardless I absolutely love how he draws diverse people and faces, the way he renders skin, hair, backgrounds,,EVERYTHING,,,, There's a lot of nuance to his style that I've subconsciously started using in my own the past few years. I don't know how he does it man x.x He understands colors SO well ahghghghg

^^ Feel obligated, but reluctant, to say SarahDraws, she's had some crazy bad controversies !!!!WHICH I AM BRINGING ATTENTION TO HERE SO DON'T GET MAD AT ME!!!! but I'm still absolutely enamored with her art. Gotta give credit where credit is due, man u.u But, seriously, even though lineart is my favorite part of the process, I envy how amazing she can make any piece look with her insane sketchy lines, I genuinely don't even know if she does a sketch beforehand or just cleans it up--it looks so beautiful either way. Love her dark goth imagery paired with a super bright accent color WAAAGHG

^^ Growing up I know I was inspired by a lot of...erhm ... Traumacore and guro artists DollieGuts and ReinaGoth, but how much their style ended up sticking to mine,,,I dunno! You can kinda see it I guess? I was pretty innocently into artists of this scene but ultimately shied away due to a phobia of mine LMAO. Still love their work though! I know DollieGuts is the reason I line with such a crunchy brush, considering I used their brushes on Sai for a few years straight 🥴 (also love how much they've been playing around with their style lately...mwah. love to see an artist breaking out of their comfort zone)

^^ It goes without saying I get inspiration from a lot of fandom artists, too, Wilddaggers and Nenanugget definitely come to mind,, I feel like they both use super satisfying colors and a lot going on despite not having full shading, which I hope to achieve so badly.

Thank you so much for the ask, and sorry the late reply ❣❣

[scriptaed]

...cause i like you?!

genre: fluff/crack; e2l!au;

pairing: jin x reader;

length: 2.1k;

synopsis: just the thought of it, no, the mere possibility of it boggles the ever so egotistical mind that belonged to kim seokjin. him? and... her? his arch enemy? his sworn nemesis whose incessant badgering he simply refuses to surrender to? struck with a capricious cold, jin’s teapot of a mind attempts to conceal its steam fall short when you pay an unexpected visit and all mayhem is set loose. when did it happen? how did it happen? no... no, it can’t be... he can’t... possibly... like her?! 

You [4:05 P.M.] are you sure this is the right address????

Dipshit Tae [4:05 P.M.] yes for hundredth time

Dipshit Tae [4:05 P.M.] why would i give you the wrong address??

You [4:06 P.M.] you mean why WOULDN’T you give me the wrong address..

You [4:06 P.M.] is that loser even home? 

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M.] yeah, he should be. he was texting me about how bored he was just a while ago.

You [4:06 P.M.] wait.. he was texting you?? I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU WERE WORRIED CAUSE HE WAS BEDRIDDEN AND WASN’T RESPONDING???

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M.] uh… yeah, he was :) I swear :) which is exactly why you’re there because YOU have a car and I don’t! 

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M.] aren't I a good wingman? :)

You [4:06 P.M.] I DON'T LIKE HIM 

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M.] awww I can see you blushing through text you

You [4:06 P.M.] I hate your guts also why isn’t he answering the door

Dipshit Tae [4:06 P.M] he’s not?? try ringing the doorbell

You [4:07 P.M.] you think I haven’t, dumbass? 

Dipshit Tae [4:07 P.M.] hold on, let me call him 

"God," your breath marks the air in white puffs as you pace in place before his house, "hurry up—"

—swoosh, the door opens magically and, lo and behold, there stands the devilish man himself, Kim Seokjin… except unlike the formidable foe, this skeptical phenomenon stands before you, lips gaping and doe-like eyes widening in utter shock rendered by your presence. You only manage a quick scan of his donned baby pink bathrobe matched with pink bunny slippers until the both of you practically jump back into an ephemeral moment seemingly frozen in time. 

Just as his phone rings, Jin quickly slams the door on you. His efforts prove fruitless, however, once you somehow manage to stick your foot in between his doorframe and the merciless force of his, which fortunately comes to an abrupt stop before your potential stop to the emergency room. There are trivial incidents like these—when he ignores the itch to tease you on the days you wear a frown or when he reluctantly chooses to lose an argument although you are very clearly in the wrong—that you bestow him the honorable badge of consideration… but the stubborn part of you theorizes he’s just trying to avoid a hefty hospital fee. 

“Ahem, ahem,” the boy feigns a cough into his phone, “Taehyung, can’t you tell I’m sick?”

Scoffing into the air, you call out loudly, “sick enough to slam the door so hard—”

“—ahem,” he shoots you a death glare, “sorry, I’m just so very sick. Can’t talk. Need my beauty sleep. Bye—”

“—beauty sleep?! You? Beauty?” 

It’s almost impossible to hold in your cackles; in fact, it takes you only a split second to surrender to the crackling fireworks of your laughter. The quip’s effect is shortly lived, however, when his unusual lengthy silence has you gradually settling into the cold winter air beside him. With his eyes glaring at you from underneath the dampened locks of his bangs clearly fresh out of the shower, it’s nearly impossible to deny the tiniest thought that flashes across your mind.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Jin’s pretty damn hot. 

“Are you here to tease me or what?” he retorts, burying the phone into the fluff that is his robe. “I’m not in the mood.”

“What? Pshhh,” you wave a dismissive spare hand, “silly, no!” 

“Then?” he quirks a brow whilst slowly guarding himself behind the door. “Are you here to watch me wither on my deathbed?” 

“No, will you please just let me in? I’m freezing here. I heard you were sick and classes just became too quiet without you—” and when the boy remains unconvinced by your pleas, you let out a loud sigh as your hand raises to reveal a bag of much needed warm soup “—I have food.”

He immediately swings the door wide open, “come right on in.”

“Wow, so you’re not in the mood for me but you’re in the mood for food?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rolling your eyes at his 90 degree bow, you march your way into his halls and directly to the kitchen as you have done so in the many times you had unfortunately been paired with the most self-absorbed classmate for a group project. At this point, you know his everything like the back of your hand. From his house and his obsession with pink to his hobbies and his quirky dialogue, you, his sworn nemesis, probably know him even better than his friends… and oddly enough, you take pride in that—although you’ll never admit it. 

“So,” you say nonchalantly as you set out the utensils on his kitchen island, “what could possibly be going on in that peculiar mind of yours?”  

“Peculiar? Aw, did Y/N just call me unique?” he snorts. “I said I wasn’t in the mood for you, not anything else.”

“Okay, so,” you gesture for him to dig in despite the evident hesitation in his eyes once he seats himself across from you, “why me specifically?”

“Cause—” he stares at you confidently but struggles to spill before playing with his spoon “—cause something’s been on my mind.”

You flash a cheeky grin, “you mean I’ve been on your mind?” 

“What?!” he almost springs from his seat in absolute denial, leaning forward across the counter enough for you to take a step back. “No! Wooow, that’s just… that’s… preposterous!” 

“Alright, alright, I was just joking,” you raise two merciful hands but leave the latter half of the sentiment to yourself—because who even uses the word preposterous nowadays? Your silence, however, rightfully ends when you notice him constantly probing around at the congee, as if looking for something lurking in the soup. “Don’t worry, Jin, I didn’t poison it.” 

“Ah,” he nods, thereby confirming your completely accurate reading of his mind. 

When another second passes and you’re finally at a loss for how to prolong a conversation with Jin, you subtly join in on his silent nods; but with each succeeding nod, you begin to notice his cheeks gradually burning a flush shade of pink much stronger than his robe. 

“Jin,” you frown, “are you okay? Your face is turning really red—”

“—it’s probably the steam from the bowl,” he blurts, eyes quickly averting to his bowl before downing a big spoonful of soup into his perpetually ravenous stomach, leaving you little to no time left for you to retort. An unsettling silence follows—an undeniable rarity between the rowdy atmosphere between you two—and you begin to wonder what exactly are you staying silent for. 

You can’t possibly be… waiting for his reaction to your cooking, are you? Why does it even matter to you? Why did the flow of things become so awkward? And why is he so… jumpy? Something must be definitely off today, but, oddly enough, you don’t exactly mind this change of pace from your usual bickering comedy duo selves.

Whatever it is, the silence is deafening and you swear he can even hear you gulp. 

“Did you…” he scrunches his brows and sets his spoon to the bowl with a clink, “...did you cook this?”

“Yeah, I did,” you follow suit with a frown, “is there something wrong with it…?”

“Yeah, no, of course you did,” he leans back into his seat with a loud huff and a cross of the arms, “you added too much salt.”

“Hey! What’re you imply—”

“—but,” he cocks his head, frowning as he drowns himself deep in his nonsensical thoughts, “it just doesn’t make sense…”

“Hello? Earth to Jin?” you wave a hand across his lost gaze that remains affixed to his mystery of a meal. “What are you going on about now?” 

“There’s too much salt in this soup. So, theoretically,” his two parallel hands tap the table sequentially, as if marking some sort of a complex timeline, “this should be a terrible meal… but…”

“But…?”

It takes everything in Jin to squeeze the grand reveal out of his zipped lips and very reluctantly so. 

“But… why does it taste so good?” The utter concentration in his dartlike eyes and sheer conviction in his nearly convincing albeit silly argument makes it almost sound like he’s questioning himself, especially when he continues rambling without your response—although, really, you had nothing but a flabbergasted look. “Everything you make should theoretically taste bad but why, when it’s you and only you, does it taste… so good? It makes me—” he clutches his chest dramatically, but noticeably on the opposite side of where his heart should’ve been, and locks a quizzical, almost desperate gaze with you “—so warm and fuzzy inside?”

“You mean your heart?” you point at his chest. “It’s on the opposite side, Jin.”

“And why,” he gasps for breath like a mad man, an emotionally mad and a mentally mad man, “why do I always let you tease me? Why do I let you win? I’m Jin, Kim Seokjin, for God’s sake! I never lose! And the most confusing part of it is: why do I always supposedly smile whenever I argue with you?!”

“Oh, can confirm, you definitely do that.”

He points an accusatory finger at you, “you do, too!” 

“What?” you gawk. “Do not!”

“Taehyung said so!” 

“I do?”

The both of you challenge the other in a stare off, eventually and silently admitting a mutual defeat to the subtle nagging side of you that had always taken note of that true albeit irking fact. 

“It just doesn’t make sense…” he begins pacing back and forth with a finger to his pursed lips. “I never had problems with my beauty sleep until I met you… I never lowered my food standards to such devastating levels until you started feeding me… I never enjoyed having someone trying to get under my skin until you came into my life… it all doesn’t make sense. The only possibility I can narrow it down to is—”

“—wait, Jin, are you—”

“—is it all cause I like you?!”

The both of your jaws drop open, possibly to the floor, staring at the other as if whatever had slipped from his mouth was the most preposterous thing he had ever suggested! In retrospect and to the general public, you know you should have seen this coming from a mile away. It’s impossible not to acknowledge the several times the lines between a vigorous argument and a flirty quarrel became blurred; but to you, the offensive enemy participating in a never-ending duel with the infamous Kim Seokjin, there’s nothing you could’ve done to anticipate this confession pulled out of thin air. 

Did you like it? 

The possibility of being something more than a fervent pair of enemies and a questionable pair of friends? 

Your mind says it’s unsure, but your smile says much more. 

You have to get out of this house, anywhere but here before the opposing enemy catches onto his advancement.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’re you smiling at? You’re the reason I’ve been losing sleep!” he warns sternly, pointing a finger at you whilst you gather your things. “Hey, you must be the reason I’m sick right now! Take accountability!”

“You mean I’m the reason why you’re lovesick now?” you stick a tongue out as you head out the kitchen and you can’t help but laugh at the way he follows like a lost puppy. “What? You want me to make more of my terrible food in return?”

“What? No, shut up! Hey, hey, hey!” he stutters over his own scramble of words, watching you pacing around his front entrance and calling out to you from the hallway. “Where are you going? I think I just confessed to you? No, I’m pretty sure I just did!”

You shrug, “and?” 

“And what’s your answer?” he throws his hand in the air, as if his mental stability depended on your very response. “Is it a yes or no? Do you like me, too?”

“Umm… I don’t know,” you hum, “I’ll let you know over dinner? At 6?” 

His eyes glimmer with hope, “d-dinner?”

“Yeah,” you reply with a cheeky grin before quipping, “hey, why’s your cheek so red?”

A loud huff of his follows your series of cackles and you can hear his last remark that has you undeniably smiling from ear to ear even through the closed door behind you. 

“Damn it, you know it’s cause I like you!”

[svnflowervol666]

Fried Rice and... Kiwi? (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.5k

Author’s Note: Happy third birthday to HS1! Here’s something short and sweet in it’s honor. I came across this gif earlier today and all I could think about was lying on Harry’s tummy and listening to him talk about the album. Hence, this fic was born. Obviously, I had to turn it into dad!Harry, because that’s all I can manage to do ever. Like, literally ever. But, regardless! Enjoy, take care, and TPWK. gif by @stylesinthewild​!!!

Three sequential knocks on the weighted, wooden door broke up the playful banter occurring in the studio. It wasn’t a request to enter, more so a signal of arrival and a warning - she was coming in whether they liked it or not. 

“Delivery!”

Smells of grease and soy sauce filled the nostrils of everyone inside as she cautiously maneuvered her way around discarded instruments and cords and towards the coffee table with a both arms full of enough take out to feed a small army.

“God, thank you! You’re the best! Been starvin’ all day,” Jeff piped up from the armchair he’d been sitting in.

“Genuinely! You didn’t have to come all the way across town to bring us dinner,” Sarah added, hair aloof and sticking up around her head as if she’d been running her fingers through it incessantly over the past few hours.

“Well, someone,” Y/N sneered, cutting her eyes back to Jeff, “keeps stealing my man away from me and I’m tired of waiting for him at home, so I figured I’d just pay him a visit here instead.”

“A simple, ‘You’re welcome, Jeff,’ would’ve done ya just fine!” he sarcastically fired back as the rest of the room doubled over in laughter.

Harry was up and out of the cushion he’d been slumped back in to grab the paper bags that were balanced on top of his girlfriend’s arms so he could take her hands in his and guide her towards him.

“Tip your driver?” she cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips down at him when he sat back down.

“Hmmm,” Harry toyed with her comment, pretending to pat down his pockets in search for change, “‘Ve only got my undying love and affection and an endless amount of kisses. Will that do?”

“I suppose,” Y/N huffed, leaning in to press her lips chastely against his.

“Okay, let’s see if I got this right,” she directed her attention back to the group as she fished around the bags of food.

“Beef and broccoli for Mitch?” The long-haired, almost-resembling-jesus brunette smirked and nodded as he leaned over to take the white carton from her hands.

“Kung Po chicken with extra sauce for Sarah,” Y/N stated confidently. She knew that one for certain.

Sarah bowed graciously as she swiped a handful of duck sauce from the bag after taking her order from Y/N.

“Hot and Sour soup for Adam and Jeff.” 

She handed Adam the plastic tub of hot liquid as if she was presenting him a sacred piece of treasure and cast Jeff’s soup away dramatically as if to say she was still fake-mad at him for keeping Harry holed up in the studio for long hours and couldn’t care less if he spilled the damn thing in his lap or not.

“You’re too kind,” Jeff scoffed, earning a pointed middle finger in his direction from Y/N.

“And last but certainly not least,” she grabbed the two remaining cartons by the thin metal handles and presented one to Harry, “Veggies for the boy.”

“Thank you, lovie,” Harry responded earnestly as he grabbed utensils for the both of them, chopsticks for him and a fork for her (he’d tried to teach her more times than he could count to use chopsticks properly but she could never quite get the technique down successfully) and dug into the steaming heap of vegetables packed to the brim of the container.

It was peacefully quiet as everyone chowed down on the takeout Y/N had brought in, everyone coming to the realization of how hungry they’d gotten after spending the entire day writing, composing, and recording an album. Harry and Y/N sat on opposite ends of the couch, her feet resting comfortably in his lap.

“Wha’ did you get?” Harry asked through a mouthful of food.

“Rice.”

Harry frowned.

“Just rice?”

“Wasn’t that hungry,” Y/N shrugged, “Plus, I might have eaten the leftover pizza from the other day right before I came.”

“Still. ‘S not good f’ you. Need t’ be eating better than tha’,” the newly short-haired brunette (Y/N may have shed a tear when he told her he was cutting it) gathered an assortment of sauteed vegetables with his chopsticks before leaning over the couch and dangling it above her lips, waiting for her to open her mouth and accept the bite.

She managed to catch it all, sans a thin strip of onion that she quickly slurped up before it fell and wiped the remaining sauce from the corner of her mouth with her knuckle.

“You two disgust me,” Jeff called out from across the room, a scowl adorning his features.

Harry smiled that obnoxiously cheesy shit-eating grin that he had become infamous for having in his manager’s direction, being sure to push the chewed up broccoli to the front of his teeth to only add to Jeff’s so-called repulsion.

“I think you’re just jealous that the attention’s not on you,” Y/N stated matter-of-factly, “I’m carrying precious cargo. It’s part of the job description now.”

She gave a snide and over-dramatised rub over her swollen belly where hers and Harry’s unborn child was nestled conveniently on top of her organs, making it harder and harder to move around and have any kind of energy as of late.

“If I recall correctly, I’m carrying his career. ‘S pretty precious if you ask me.”

With a roll of her eyes, Y/N plopped her half-eaten side of fried rice onto the table in front of her and shifted her body so that she was lying in Harry’s lap, her head resting perfectly where his thighs met his toned, yet somehow still soft tummy. Harry acclimated to her new position with ease, freeing one his hands so he could pet her hair gently.

“What did you guys work on today?” she asked, her fingers slipping under the hem of Harry’s shirt to absent-mindedly rub the sparse strip of hair that trailed down from his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his boxers that were just barely peaking through the top of his jeans - similar to how he stroked her bump when they cuddle in bed at night.

“Finished up the master for Two Ghosts and added the keys to Woman, but tha’s about it. Started playin’ with another one, but I’m not sure that it’s gonna go anywhere.”

“Yeah? Was it the one you were playing for me the other night?”

Harry shook his head through another bite of his food and swallowed.

“Think we’re gonna do tha’ one next week. We were just messin’ ‘round w’ this one. Doubt I’ll ever go back to it after today.”

“Well, can I at least hear it before you scrap it?”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek and peered around the room, trying to locate the hard drive that held all of their practice runs and demos.

“Did they take the laptop when they left?” he asked.

“Nah, it’s still here. Let me go get it,” Jeff promptly shimmied out of his seat, stuffed to the brim with tofu and bamboo shoots that were mixed into his soup, making him move a bit slower than he had earlier.

Whilst Jeff was digging around in the back room in search of the song Harry was almost certain would get lost deep down in the numerous files of unfinished songs and melodies, Y/N tapped Harry’s stomach with her pointer finger to get his attention and opened her mouth, signaling she wanted another bite of his food. He dropped the veggies into her mouth gingerly, making sure to avoid staining his shirt or accidentally dropping a carrot on Y/N’s nose.

“Thank you for comin’. Missed ye’ all day,” Harry spoke in a whisper so that only Y/N could hear him.

“Missed you too,” she mumbled through her chewing, “She doesn’t move much when you’re gone. Think she misses you more.”

In that moment, he was thankful she wasn’t lying on his chest, because she most certainly would have heard his heart combust and scatter like confetti into his gut at the mention of his sweet baby girl that was set to arrive in a few months time.

“’S she kickin’ right now?”

A wide grin appeared on Y/N’s face and she nodded, taking the chopsticks out of Harry’s hand so she could move it down her waist and press it against the underside of her belly where their daughter was seemingly doing summersaults in the presence of her father. 

It always amazed him, each and every time. How there was a human being growing inside of her and he had a hand in creating her. Although he hadn’t met her just yet, he was postive she was the most precious and sweetest creature he’s ever known.

Bursting the sugary sweet bubble they’d trapped themselves in, Jeff arrived promptly with the laptop tucked under his arm. He brought it to life, skimming the dozens of folders within the drive until he found the one he was looking for. 

“Found it!” he announced to the room.

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

As if it would allow her to hear the song more clearly, Y/N lifted her head from Harry’s lap and sat up beside him instead. She leaned against his shoulder, letting her fingers intertwine with the ones attached to his arm that was pressed against hers.

The beginnings of an electric guitar and Harry’s voice filled her ears, Y/N immediately clocking the sound as something unlike anything he had previewed for her thus far. It was heavier, more akin to the style of an actual rockstar that graced stages across the country in tight pants and ooze sex appeal from every pore in their body (not that Harry didn’t already do that). 

Next, she heard the heavy pounding of drums, to which she gave Sarah a raise of her brow and look of approval for her skill. She had absolutely no explanation for the way this song Harry had been so pertinent about tossing in the trash was making her press her thighs together to mediate the heat rising within, but it was there. The dull, persistent throb that made her wish her and Harry were the only ones in the room so that she could straddle him right there on the couch and have her way with him.

Pregnancy hormones. Yeah, that’s what it was. Well, at least that’s what she was telling herself.

And then she heard the chorus.

I’m having your baby. It’s none of your business.

She cut her eyes to Harry, who was undeniably blushing and had his face buried in his free hand as if he was scared to see her reaction. He was smirking underhead his palm, knowing good and well that she was staring at him as the lyrics repeated themselves over and over and over again. When he finally decided to peak through his fingers, he was met with her wide-eyed and stunned expression, to which he burst into a fit of giggles that shook his belly and made his sides ache. Y/N couldn’t help but join in on the laughter, shaking her head at his bluntness, for lack of a better word. 

The song wasn’t long at all as it was clearly choppy and unfinished and a product of Harry, as he’d said in his own words, messing around with his friends. Sure, it needed some cleaning up and could use a bit more substinance, but it was by no means bad or anything worth chucking in her opinion. It was very much a song written about her, so she felt like she could stand confidently by that opinion.

“Well, shit,” Y/N huffed as the instruments came to an abrupt hault and all that was left of the recording were dwindling laughter and shuffles in the background while whoever was in charge of the sound board moved to cut the microphones, “That gets right to the point. Doesn’t it?”

“That’s what we said,” Sarah managed to get out in between wiping the mascara from under her eyes that ran when she was laughing at her dear friend’s reaction.

“I mean, I don’t think it’s bad at all. Needs some cleaning up, but I think you should keep working on it,” Y/N said honestly, prying Harry’s hand from his face so she could kiss him on the cheek.

“Oh, gee. Thanks. Didn’t know you were on payroll as a producer too,” Jeff called out contemptuously.

“Umm, without me, you wouldn’t have half of this album. Think I can say whatever I want about the matter. Thank you very much.”

Harry pressed his lips together and pointed at her with his fingers shaped like a handgun as if to corroborate what Y/N had just said.

“Yeh actually liked it though?” there was a hint of surprise in his voice.

He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected a smack on the chest or a scold, not praise.

Y/N smiled at the bashful boy beside her, picking a piece of fuzz from the collar of his shirt and flicking it off to the wayside.

“’S gonna have everyone’s panties in a bunch, that’s for sure.”

She picked up Harry’s arm and draped it around her shoulder so she could properly snuggle into his side.

“That damn kiwi,” she said with a playful sigh.

“Pardon?” Harry looked down, bewildered, to see Y/N busying herself by gently poking the taut skin of her tummy in attempt to get their baby to poke her back with her tiny hand or foot, there was really no way of telling which was which.

“That’s when I said that to you,” Y/N yawned, “I was craving kiwi and fuming mad because you ate the last one and when you asked why I was so worked up about it, I told you it’s because I was having your baby, but it wasn’t any of your business.”

The recollection immediately dawned on Harry, making him smack his forehead with a closed fist.

“That’s where that came from! I couldn’t remember what happened, but I’ve always thought that was the funniest thing you’ve ever said t’ me.”

“Ehhh, it’s top ten for sure. Wouldn’t say the funniest, but it’s up there.”

Harry rolled his eyes at her indifference, but he won’t lie and say that it wasn’t one of the things he loved about her the most. How even though she can be the biggest pain in his ass, she always finds a way to bring light into his life and make him smile even it seems next to impossible.

“So yeh think it should stay in the running?”

“Definitely. If I wasn’t already pregnant, I’d beg you to put one in me right here in this studio after hearing it,” she said nonchalantly.

Jeff mocked a gagging noise, “I think I’m genuinely going to hurl.” 

“Oh, be an adult for once in your life, Azoff!” Y/N quipped.

Harry stiffled his laughter into her neck, tickling the tiny hairs that rose to goosebumps with each breath he exhaled onto her skin. 

“I don’t think you understand, Y/N. I hear about you two every damn day in this studio. ‘S just like you said, the whole bloody album is about you two not being able to keep your hands off of each other for five seconds. ‘M surprised it’s taken you this long t’ get knocked up.”

Harry remained tight-lipped, having reduced his giggle fit to a minimum as he watched two of the most important people in his life bicker back and forth like children fighting over a toy. He supposes, in this case, he is the toy in question, but it was entertaining nonetheless.

“Gonna make a damn good album, though. Isn’t it?” Y/N’s haughty smirk answered that question all on its own.

[thewatermelloncat]

Miscommunication   (part 1)

Summary: The Hargreeves siblings were made to be rivals, so Ben had never seemed to care much for Five. That is until the day he realises the rivalry was all in his head.

Author’s Note: I really enjoyed writing this - it’s probably a little rough around the edges but I just wanted to post something because I haven’t in a while.

Thoughts on continuing this? I have a few ideas, but I’m open to suggestions for continuing with the next part…

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It was pretty much set in stone that the siblings would be rivals. Luther and Diego were always at each other’s throats trying to prove who was the better leader. Allison and Klaus being the next sequential pairing, were supposed to have a rivalry but Allison would only cheat her way to the top if Klaus cared in the first place. 

Ben and Five were slightly different. Where Luther and Diego were in a battle over strength and charisma, they were in a battle over knowledge and wits.

Not to say that Ben doesn’t like Five exactly, but he sometimes doesn’t feel the need to get on with him, they are complete opposites. Where Five is outspoken and opinionated, Ben is shyer and more reserved. And where Five is better at math, Ben is better at literature.

Means to say that he doesn’t go out of his way to spend time with Five outside of their training and schooling. He figures that Five has no interest in being his friend anyway.

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A couple of days ago Five started to seem a little off. Not that Ben had noticed until Allison made a passing comment and Five had brushed it off. But after then he began to notice how quiet his brother was being, sharing his opinion less and not answering as many of Pogo’s questions in their classes. Ben would normally hope that it meant that he was becoming less arrogant and egotistical, but from the way he looked with his paling face, Ben knew it was for a different reason.

Call him a bad brother or whatever, but he didn’t think much of it. People get sick from time to time, and he would enjoy the silence while he could.

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It wasn’t until the week was nearing to an end that it began to dawn on him that Five wasn’t getting any better. Granted that he was still functioning and miles away from death’s door, but surely, he should have at least started to get better by now.

One by one things started to stick out to him more, like his siblings’ passing comments. Just in the last day he’d overheard Luther ask him if he was okay after breakfast, since he’d apparently heard him coughing all through the night. He’d seen Diego unceremoniously lob a box of tissues at him while they were all in the lounge reading for their classes – they’d bounced off his shoulder and Ben can’t remember if he’d even touched them. Allison had tried to sneak a hand to his forehead only to have it batted away. Even Klaus had noticed something was amiss and had dropped a pack of painkillers on his lap after seeing him staring off into space with a pinched expression, a clear sign he had a headache. And no matter how quiet Vanya normally was, there was about a 75 percent ‘bless you’ rate each time he sneezed.

Means to say that Ben felt kind of bad about being so quick to dismiss his brother’s state of health. Then again, he wasn’t sure what to do. Five didn’t normally accept help from others and Ben was sure that he would be the last person Five would accept help from. After all, he is incredibly stubborn.

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Despite the fact that their classes are compulsory he still showed up to them. Sure, he participated less than usual but otherwise it was like nothing was wrong. Of course, aside from the way he looked and how sometimes his respiratory system failed him. In those moments when he could do nothing but shield coughs as silently as possible into his elbow, he always made sure to avoid Pogo’s concerned gaze. Though their tutor would do no more than repeat the sentence he had been saying before he had been interrupted.

Somehow with every worksheet they were given, Five still finished first. Ben couldn’t help but feel frustrated that even then he couldn’t beat Five academically. It got him in his head thinking that Five was intentionally working extra fast just to one-up him in their rivalry. To prove he was better even when he was far from his best.

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Though it was in their training that Five fell behind, and for good reason. Somehow, he always managed to drag himself from wherever he had been in the house and down to the training exercise. Force himself to stand up straight and once again pretend nothing was wrong. However, that was where the pretendences were forced to stop.

Five tired quickly in their endurance training, even more so when he had to use his power which sapped him at over twice the speed. It was a sure bet that their father noticed but he refused to say anything. Only looking down to angrily scribble something in his notebook when Five no longer had the energy to jump.

Still Five never complained and never held back. It made Ben hate him for two reasons: one being that he was stupidly pushing himself too hard when he shouldn’t, and two, because he was sure that the latter had something to do with him.

It wasn’t a secret that weakness wasn’t tolerated in their strange family, so Ben had no doubt that Five was over compensating to disguise it. Ben was just an obstacle in Five’s way to proving to their father that he is superior. That his weak brother can’t even beat him even when he’s below par. The thought almost made Ben feel sick himself.

Yet through all this, Ben begins to feel sorry for him. Sorry that he so desperately feels the need to overexert himself to hold on to their father’s approval.

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The pages of Five’s book are beginning to camouflage into the tissues scattered around his desk. Sighing deeply, he drops his pen and pulls his rubbish bin closer to his chair, figuring that he would work better with a clearer space.

Soon after his desk is cleared, he realises that isn’t the case. His eyes still won’t focus on the page and he can’t remember what to do with the math formulas in front of him, regardless of the fact he knows he’s seen them many times before.

In amidst spinning his pen between his fingers his breath hitches and he drops it to the desk in favour of reaching for a tissue from the box in front of him.

“Huht’nnTSCH!”

He groans as the sneeze loosens the congestion built in his head and surrenders to emptying it in the tissue. After coughing slightly as air gets restricted in his throat, he sniffles in vain before reaching for another tissue. The loosening pressure in his head far from done with him.

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Ben had been minding his own business for most of the afternoon. He’d sat with Klaus and Diego for a bit but had left when they had started arguing over whether noodles were a soup or pasta. Then he’d sat and listened to Vanya play her violin until she stopped to do something else. So, with nothing to do, he wondered the halls of the academy without any mind to where he was going.

As he walks past Five’s room his ears pick up on the sound of light coughing projecting through the door. Even after telling himself for days that he didn’t care about how sick his brother was, he still stops in his tracks. Retracing a few steps back to the door, Ben pulls a face at the idea of interacting with his brother which he really doesn’t want to do, although he knows he really should.

Swallowing down his apprehension, he pushes on the door and steps into the room without knocking.

“Five?” he says as half a question since he’d expected to see his brother in bed rather than at his desk with a tissue held to his nose.

“Ben, I’m kinda in the middle of something” Five’s hands steepled over his nose do no favours in helping the quality of his voice before he resumes his task.

“You’re an idiot you know” Ben accuses, stepping forward as Five drops the tissue into the bin beside him.

“I thought randomly insulting people was more Diego’s thing than yours. But if you want to take a page out of his book you can piss off, I’m not in the mood” Five counters smoothly without turning around.

Ben needs to get a better look at him, because if his voice is any indication of how he’s feeling, he is sure that he’s getting worse. “That’s not what I mean” he corrects as he invites himself further into the room, walking over to the edge of his brother’s desk. “You shouldn’t keep pushing yourself.”

Five ignores him and picks up his pen to begin his equations again.

“I get that you want to prove that you’re the best, but you don’t need to run yourself to the ground to do it.”

Five scoffs out a laugh and drops his pen back to the page. “I never cared about the rivalry.”

Ben had predicted resistance and was about to resume arguing his point before Five’s words sink into him. “Y-you don’t?”

“Of course, I don’t” Five turns slightly more towards Ben is his chair. “Everyone has something that they are good at. I’m good at academics, so I work hard at it. You’re good at it too Ben, but how well I do has nothing to do with you.”

Five pauses for Ben to say something, but for a few moments he can’t find the words. Too shocked at Five complementing him, acknowledging him in something that he’s good at.

“I-I don’t” Ben stammers out before he formulates a random sentence which he blurts out. “You never seemed to want to be friends with me.”

He’s aware that he probably sounds stupid but Five doesn’t seem to notice as he counters.

“In fairness, you never seemed to want to be friends with me either.”

Ben tips his head slightly from side-to-side in acceptance of the fair point. He doesn’t know if he expects Five to smile and make a joke about it – that would be something he could expect from Klaus – thinking that it might make the situation slightly more comfortable. But looking at his brother sitting slumped in his chair like he’s sinking under the weight of gravity, he disregards the notion of staying on the subject any longer.

“You need to get to bed” Ben’s serious tone sounds more confident than he feels about it.

Five sighs and turns back to his desk. “I’ve got homework to finish, Ben. I’d rather not have to do it over the weekend.”

“Can you even focus on it?” Ben raises an eyebrow allowing some sass into his words. A dangerous tactic to take when dealing with Five but he couldn’t help it.

“If you would stop bugging me I would” Five replicates his tone but doesn’t sound annoyed by it.

A slight smile plays at the corners of Ben’s lips, finding that Five is happy to counter back and forth with him as if they are on the same level. But it drops as soon as he sees Five pick up his pen and turn back to his book.

Driven by curiosity Ben steps behind Five’s chair to look over his shoulder as he sets about to start working again. With Five’s brain moving slow it is a fair while before he touches the pen onto the paper.

“That’s not the formula you want” Ben says flatly after reading the beginning of the writing.

Five huffs out a sigh and frustratedly drops his pen to the desk. For a moment Ben thinks he’s going to argue with him, and he might have, but instead he raises his arm to cover a few coughs that shake out of his chest.

“Come on, bed” Ben commands before tapping Five on the shoulder and stepping away. Leaving no room for argument.

Reluctantly Five stands from his chair and Ben decides to push his luck in placing a hand around his back and onto his shoulder, starting to guide him over to the bed.

When his fingers touch onto his arm, Ben hears Five intake a sharp breath and begins to remove his grip, thinking it’s in objection. Instead of pulling away, Five raises his own hand to support himself against Ben’s shoulder, and leans away from him into his elbow.

“Hup'nxtch!” he sneezes congestedly and Ben feels a tug down at the force of it.

“Can you pass me a” – Five doesn’t need to finish his sentence, Ben having already reached for the tissue box before he spoke.

Holding out the box to his brother, they both turn and sit on the bed shoulder to shoulder. After Five takes a few tissues Ben moves the box onto his knees while Five blows his nose.

“Do you want me to get mum?” Ben asks after the tissue had been thrown away.

Five shakes his head before reaching for another, “Hir’shhhoo… ish’uu.”

“Yeah, you made that real convincing” Ben says sarcastically.

“It’s almost dinner, anyway” Five points out.

“Oh, right” Ben muses to himself. How long had he been wondering around for? “Are you even going to make it through it?” he asks after a few seconds of silence.

“Don’t have a choice.”

“Surely, dad wouldn’t want you down there infecting everyone.”

“Hasn’t had a problem with it the last few days” Five pauses to sniffle into the back of his hand. “Sorry if I get anyone sick by the way.”

Ben hums in dismissal before the room succumbs to silence until Five breaks it.

He manages to keep the first few coughs behind closed lips, but the rest he is forced to shield with his elbow, his body pitching forward as he tries to control them. He sounds so awful that Ben can’t help but place a hand on the back of his shoulder while they both wait for the coughs to die down.

“I don’t think you should come down” Ben tells him when Five finally gets his breath back.

“Like I told you, it’s not an option.”

“Then don’t make it an option” Ben puts simply. “If you don’t ask, they can’t say no.”

“It’ll be pretty obvious with a chair empty” Five’s voice is almost completely faded.

“It will be” Ben agrees. “But it’ll either be mum or Pogo that dad sends up to get you and either of them will take pity on you.”

“Neither of them has seemed to care when I saw them last.”

“That’s ‘cause you had a front up Five” Ben tells him honestly. “You can’t deny that.”

Ben takes it as a small victory when his brother doesn’t reply, then he adds “you can barely go a minute without coughing.”

Five sighs deeply before he says, “you should head down then.”

Something inside Ben relaxes as Five gives in. “You need anything first?”

Five shakes his head, “nah, I’m just gonna get some sleep.”

“All right” Ben sighs, pushing himself up from the bed. He makes it halfway across the room before he doubles back to the desk and swipes Five’s homework off the top, not trusting his brother to get proper rest while it is in the room. He doesn’t listen out for a sound of protest as he wishes Five “goodnight” before he steps out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

part 2

[bomberqueen17]

i swear

i’m making progress on things, it just doesn’t look like i am.

i’m pretty freely tabbing back and forth between What Has Yennefer Been Up To (which it turns out is mostly Jaskier and, separately, Geralt) and then what was supposed to be a soft epilogue for Keira and Aiden and Lambert and is now just smut, and alas Yennefer and Jaskier was supposed to be smut but unexpectedly faded to black on me which, WTF you guys. anyway.

Somehow I managed to work a mention of Roche/Iorveth into one of these stories. You’ll have to read it to see which. I don’t even go there but it amuses the loremasters of my acquaintance, so.

Oh and I read one of the Witcher books! I think Lady of the Lake? I already forgot. The library had it and it wasn’t checked out, for a wonder, so I did, and it only took me a couple of hours while I was doing other things, and-- well-- I mean-- I don’t know, it wasn’t devoid of charm. It’s not groundbreaking stuff but it’s not bad either. The levels of sexism etc.,-- well, I have a literature degree, which means at some point I was prevailed upon to read some of The Great Canon including a truly inordinate amount of Thomas Hardy, and at one point I read James Fenimore Cooper’s collected works of my own volition, so like-- it’s not like I’m not used to that bullshit and worse.

Ah, it was The Last Wish, that I read. I’ll read Blood of Elves next because it’s also available. There’s not that many of them. HA Last Wish has the Netflix art on the ebook cover but Blood of Elves has the old art that slightly looks like the video game (with the high bouncy half-ponytail, cute).

Ugh I don’t really have the mental capacity to read, though-- I’ve already forgotten part of what I read of the other one. I know we met Three Jackdaws but I don’t remember if we ever did anything with him. I’m not going to be able to keep any of it straight in my head. This is why my to-be-read pile... well I just don’t add things to it. If the thing’s not just right I won’t absorb it at all, if it’s too good I’ll get hyperfixated. (Please don’t suggest me things I should read or watch, I don’t want either of those things to happen and it’s like one of those clicky flip switches, there’s not a middle position on this version that lets me just enjoy things like a normal person.)

I think I’m doing quite well at living a facsimile of a quite functional life actually! but I spent most of this weekend wandering, lost, either in my head or in my basement, and my hip spent much of the weekend actively paining me, including popping out while I was cooking dinner, and I dislike this enormously, I even did the Grudging Exerbike Workout, I did the Halfassed Get-Back-In-There Yoga, I did the Don’t-Sleep-In-The-Positions-You-Like Snooze of Resentfulness, I took an extra walk out of sheer (brief) high spirits, and I was punished for that all weekend.

But I got some of my smut wrote, and that’s something.

How long until I can do some sort of chapter update on anything? Pff IDK, I fell off the end of my backlog and that’s that. I want to do F&S next, but-- I think Where’s Yennefer needs to go sequentially before Ciri’s Girlfriend, for timeline reasons, or maybe vice-versa?-- and F&S needs to sequentially slot into that somehow and bring them together at the end-- and then the smut can be wherever so maybe I should aim to get that one up first, IDK, it’s sequentially after, but that doesn’t matter, they’re different timelines and they don’t have to come together unless I want there to be plot.

Which I do. Phooey.

[radiowallet]

Sneaky peak

So some know and some don’t, but I used to write.  Almost constantly.  All through high school and nursing school.  

Then, like most things, life made things complicated.  I focused on my career, I fell in love, and I made a human.  There’s a lot more to that story, and I’m gearing myself up to share that part.

BUT - I’m writing again.  (This fandom has really helped me get there, emotionally and all those creative things are flowing again).

I’ve got two things started and I’m nervous.  Not nervous enough to stop because ultimately I’m writing these things for me.  But I do want you guys to enjoy these things I’m working on.  This fandom has helped me so much and I want to give back. So sneakys  are below the cut of a Marcus M. piece and a Frankie piece.  Both unedited.  There are definitely spelling mistakes I will fix before an official posting. Both untitled.  (I always do the title thing last, usually coinciding with a playlist to go with).  

Marcus Moreno first.  I love him and honestly, we may be soulmates.  Minor warnings for swear words and mentions of vibrators.  

You were good with computers.  Mother boards, circuits, and wires laid themselves out to you so, so clearly, an unencumbered roadmap you could follow in your sleep.  Every piece from big to small, served a purpose.  Perfect, sequential lines of ones and zeroes, consistent and clean.  From a young age it was clear you had a talent.  The stereotypical child overflowing with curiosity, a burning need to just know, pulling everything apart and putting it all back together again.  Television remotes, the base to portable phone, and one loud afternoon, your father’s computer.  Well, that afternoon hadn’t started out loud.  It was amazing though, the volume a man’s voice could reach when he returned home from work to find his processor pried open, each piece laid out with a carefully labeled post-it note.   

Nowadays your father just liked to laugh as he pointed out how the very thing you loved about computers was very much missing from your messy life.  “You’re going to end up some man’s disaster,” he liked to joke.  

You didn’t call your dad a lot.  

He wasn’t wrong.  Your life was messy, comparatively speaking.  Once you had finished with college you had taken to bouncing from city to city.  Building computers from scrap parts to sell to gamers and part-time jobs at generic “Fix Your Tech for Cheap” stores keeping you afloat.  There had even been a summer at the, ahem, genius bar, when you got really desperate.  

Job hopping and frequent location changes did ultimately lead to a slightly off-kilter lifestyle.  Your furniture didn’t match.  You had trouble keeping up with the dishes.  Your dining room table was used more spare parts then gatherings with friends.  One night stands and nights with your vibrator were your only source of a love life, and the only living thing to keep you company was the tiny succulent that had somehow managed to adapt to your watering cycle of whenever you damn well felt like it.  You liked these parts of your life just fine though, thank you very much.  But you were approaching 35, and the yearning for something somewhat permanent had begun to tickle at the back of your mind.  

And moving is such a bitch.  

You’d like to stop doing that for a little bit.  

So when a job interview led to a job offer that sounded like it would satisfy this new inner-monologue you seemed to have picked up somewhere along the way you figured it was time to give stability a shot.  If it didn’t work out, well, at least you’d have a really good story to tell.

“The story of how I couldn’t hack it as tech support at the fucking Heroic Headquarters,” you mumbled darkly to yourself as you packed up your Star Wars prequel plastic dinner plates.  You and Anakin made the joint decision to not tell your dad about the new job just yet.  

Frankie Morales piece next.  I clearly have a type. (Pssst It’s HOT SINGLE DADS)

Frankie Morales wanted to take you camping.   It should not surprise you. For starters… You met while running through the park.  You spotted him as you rounded a corner, walking the worn greenway with a child that couldn’t have been older than 2 or 3.  He patiently watched as the independent little girl navigated over roots breaking through the pavement, smiling with pride every time she stopped to pick up a rock, her chubby fingers presenting it like a piece of secret treasure for just the two of them.  You took a little longer to tighten your ponytail and scuffed your sneakers, just double and checking the security of the laces.  Thinking your heart (and ovaries might explode) if you had to watch the hot park dad accept a mangled dandelion presented with a toothy grin and mismatched pigtails, you restart your run. You run past, maybe definitely at a slower pace, just as he turns his daughter’s attention to the sky.  You only catch a slip of his deep, soft baritone. “-take you up there one day, mija.” It was quick, low, almost sad. Part of you wanted to stop.  Say hello.  Start the slow cascading journey of unearthing the origin of that sadness and smoothing away its hard edges, and taking the time it would need to push it out of him with a strong, gentle determination. You kept running. And your moment was gone.  Until it wasn’t.   Back at your car, sipping from a comically large water bottle, you turned to unlock the door.  There he was.  His daughter was clutching his leg, half hidden behind his leg, only curly pigtail visible.  He smiled, pulled nervously at the brim of his hat, his brown eyes warmer than any color had any right to be.   “My daughter found this scrunchie on the ground,” his voice still soft, but even richer up close.  “Did you drop it?” You clearly hadn’t, your hair still pulled back tight.  You lie, bending down to thank the little girl, who smiles at you around a thumb placed securely between her lips, hoping this “scrunchie that isn’t” meant he noticed you too. It only takes until the end of your first date to find out it had actually been fished out of the bottom of a book bag turned diaper bag, Frankie just desperate enough for a reason to talk to you.  

Special thanks to @pippki-writes who always encourages me to do stupidly brave things and reminding me that just writing the words down helps you get better at the thing. Also thanks to @disgruntledspacedad I reached out to her with what may have been TMI and she helped get me rolling!  Much love guys!

[anncanta]

Horses of Carfax Abbey

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Characters: Count Dracula, Agatha Van Helsing

Relationship: Dracula/Agatha

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Warnings: None

My thanks to my reader Lanovh94 for making me think about this.

Read on AO3

Or read below

The clock in the living room chimed melodiously at noon.

Closing the glass door that protects the dial, Agatha took a step back and checked the chronometer on the chain she held in her hands.

That's right, she noted with satisfaction.

A large mahogany grandfather clock with an exquisite copper dial was delivered yesterday morning, but only now Agatha has the opportunity to set the correct time on it and check how fine-tuned the delicate internal mechanism is.

This Scottish antique clock by Joseph Taylor was chased by Agatha for probably two months. Maybe a little less. In any case, when, after a long search, she finally bought them at auction, intercepting at the last moment from the owner of a hosiery factory in the West End, the owners of all the antique shops in London (not to mention the sellers) knew her by sight.

Taking another step back, Agatha glanced at her acquisition. It was beautiful.

‘Agatha, return my pocket watch!’ a demanding voice from the hallway made her flinch and turn around sharply. Clicking on the silver cover, she hid the chronometer behind her back.

‘Why did you decide that I have them?’ she asked Dracula who appeared at the door in the most innocent tone possible.

‘By the method of exclusion,’ Dracula went up to her and, hugging Agatha with one hand around her waist, with the other pulled out the desired object from her palm. ‘The housekeeper does not understand anything about it, the coachman considers it a pointless trinket, and the maid is afraid of it.

‘I’m the only one left,’ Agatha admitted, following the watch with her eyes.

Dracula nodded silently.

‘Finally, perfect exactly?’ he asked, hiding the watch in his waistcoat pocket.

Agatha turned in the direction he was pointing.

‘I hope so,’ she drawled thoughtfully. ‘I thought yours was in a hurry,’ she added absently.

‘On the contrary, it is falling behind,’ Dracula laughed, pulling her towards him. ‘This is my peculiarity, I would say – my style.’

Agatha smiled, running her fingers over the velvet fabric of his vest.

It has been a little over a year since both of them set foot on the English coast, and they lived together for about the same time.

After Peter, Olgaren and the captain had left Demeter, which had lost half of the crew and all the passengers, Agatha sat in Dracula's cabin for a long time, until the sun began to sink into the horizon. She could not say what exactly delayed her – the desire to postpone the moment of the explosion, or simply the tiredness that had accumulated over the long days. It must be both.

In any case, she did not reach the hold.

Dracula intercepted her on the way, and before Agatha had time to recover from surprise at the fact that he survived, fear for the lives of people whom she tried to save from him at the cost of her own life, and an incomprehensible relief – all together – she found herself on deck in the midst of a hideous quarrel, screaming curses and crying.

Dracula later told her that he did not remember the last time he was so angry. ‘Suicide, seriously?’ he growled at her, as if, having conceived such a plan, she encroached on his personal self-esteem. ‘Double murder is better,’ Agatha hissed, looking at the flashes of fury in his dark eyes.

Somehow they managed not to sink the ship and get to the shore, after which Dracula, without saying a word, stopped the first cab that came across in the port, shoved Agatha into it, and sat down behind. They spent all the way to the count's London house in silence, and when they were in place, Dracula, having paid the cabman, dragged Agatha into the living room and, sitting in front of him on the sofa, said:

‘I'll be honest and won't hide anything from you. You saw who I am and you know me. I will always be like this, more or less. But I want you to stay with me. If for this I have to feed on... rats,’ without looking, he caught the animal running by (Agatha asked herself how long the house had not cleaned) and, after looking meticulously, let it go; the rat instantly disappeared in one of the dark corners, ‘then I ask you one thing: promise, that over time my menu will improve. I don't care how.’

He came close to her.

‘Promise.’

Agatha remembered that she was so amazed that for a couple of minutes she could only sit, looking at him and blinking silently. She didn't even really know what she finally answered. It probably meant agreement, otherwise, she wouldn't be here now.

A year and three months have passed since that day, and during this time Agatha managed to learn many things, some of which she never wanted to learn, the other, as it seemed to her at first, would haunt her in nightmares until the end of her life, and the third, although not become a discovery, still did not stop surprising her.

The danger posed by the sun and the cross, as it turned out almost immediately, was nothing more than a fiction – another legend about vampires, in which Dracula believed so long ago that he himself did not remember what for and why. It scattered like dust from old ceilings when they, examining the house, climbed into the attic, and the roof that had not been repaired for years collapsed on them. Agatha remembered how, lying on the floor, covered with debris, they looked up at the rays falling through the holes in the ceiling, gently caressing them, and how they whispered at the same time: ‘It should be the same with the cross.’

And so it turned out.

Much more effort was needed in order to solve the problem of vampire hunger. After sequentially going through several options and making sure that the blood of mammals close to humans in their physiology was the most suitable for Dracula, Agatha conducted a series of experiments and, discarding goats, sheep, pigs, and cows, settled on horses.

Dracula added a large stable to the west of the house and ordered ten thoroughbred riding horses from Yorkshire. And since Dracula needed food, although daily, but in small quantities, after a couple of months, in order to save noble animals from the blues and inactivity, Dracula began to put them on the races. As a result, his capital doubled in a short period of time, and after another three months, having looked through the settlement books, he called his attorney and acquired a stud farm in the suburbs of London.

Agatha looked at it all with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. At first, out of habit, it seemed to her that Dracula was having fun, striving, as he once told her, to learn to live among civilized people and study them properly, before tying a napkin and picking up a fork and knife. However, days, weeks and months passed, and nothing changed: Dracula was kind, led an active social life, went to libraries and theaters and rode horseback, in the evenings he went to the laboratory, which he equipped in the house at the request of Agatha, in order to give her a couple of ideas regarding the properties of horse blood and the similarity of its taste and the effect of influencing to him with human one and, in general, did nothing else.

Agatha tried to convince herself that the count lived for four hundred years, waiting for a convenient opportunity to enter the civilized world and that another two months meant nothing to him at all, but every day it became more and more difficult to believe it. And she had less and less desire to do it.

Agatha perfectly remembered the evening when it disappeared completely.

She was sitting in the living room and writing something in her diary – a new experiment with horse blood was in full swing, there was a lot of data and a theoretical basis, but the formulas did not agree. Deciding to take a short break, she put aside her notes and began to clean the dull nib. Agatha did not know what was the reason – whether the knife was not sharp enough, or the hand lost its dexterity from fatigue, but even before she could understand what exactly was happening, the blade proportioned the skin of her right hand and got stuck at the base of her fingers.

Agatha spent a moment looking at the scarlet streak of blood that stood out in her palm before a long shadow covered the chair in which she was sitting.

Looking up, she saw Dracula standing in front of her.

For a second, nothing happened. As if spellbound, they watched the blood dripping from her hand. Agatha wiggled her fingers to test. Finally reaching consciousness, a raw pain swirled in her hand.

Without looking, pulling up the second chair standing to the side, Dracula sank into it and, taking Agatha with one hand by the forearm, pulled out a knife. Then he took out a handkerchief and, wiping off the fresh drops that had come through, tore a flap from the sleeve of her shirt, and quickly bandaged her palm.

He did all this in silence, without looking at Agatha, and only when finished he raised his head and leaned back. His pupils were bloodshot, but he himself was absolutely imperturbable. Letting go of Agatha's hand, he went to the fireplace and threw the dirty cloth into the fire. The fabric hissed, cringing in the flames.

‘Tomorrow, samples of the second negative will come,’ said Dracula, glancing into the opened diary of Agatha, thrown on the sofa, ‘you can check the calculations,’ and, turning around, left the room.

Agatha sat for several minutes, listening to his steps, and then got up, climbed the stairs, went to the door of his bedroom and knocked. And he opened.

… ‘There will be guests in the evening,’ said Dracula, distracting Agatha from her memories. ‘Two stud breeders from Australia and a professor from Cambridge.’

Agatha raised an eyebrow questioningly.

‘He has ideas on how to improve the breed,’ Dracula shrugged. ‘He is unsociable and usually does not go anywhere. I promised him dinner in a pleasant company and access to a reprinted version of On the Origin of Species. I had to somehow lure him. We met several times in Cambridge, but apparently too briefly. I invited him to participate in the experiment, even offered a small stake, but he refused. I hope today I will be able to persuade him.’

Agatha sighed. She knew well what it meant to ‘persuade’ in Dracula's language.

Dracula handled business with the same careless ease and a certain mocking touch that were inherent in him when dealing with people in general. Not that he disliked or disdained them: watching him day after day, Agatha came to the conclusion that it was just convenient for him – as if, not being able to eat them, he nibbled them with words and a look, held some time in his teeth and let go.

‘The hunting instinct is not going anywhere,’ Dracula smiled in response to her remarks after another visit to another salon or to a party, on which behind him, like on a battlefield covered with black velvet and silk dresses, there were glades of silent condemnation and bloody spots of flaming cheeks.

What a truly warm relationship he had, was the one with the horses. Which at first puzzled Agatha. ‘You drink their blood,’ she said hesitantly when Dracula asked her what exactly she thought was strange about it. He gave her a long look, and, muttering something like ‘who would speak of it’, took her hand and led her into the stable.

There Agatha witnessed one of the most incredible things in her entire life.

She knew that Dracula can communicate with animals, can control wolves and bats if desired, and is able to establish contact with most mammals.

But it was more than contact, communication, or control. Standing in the stable doorway, Agatha watched as he opened the corral and, clasping the head of Lissa, a young mare that Dracula was one of the first to acquire, stood for a long time, pressing his cheek to the smooth skin, smiling and whispering something before embracing becomes stronger, – and after five minutes he opens his hands and, gratefully patting the horse on the withers, leaves the corral.

Agatha never thought it could be so... beautiful. Then she did not dare to ask, but later could not resist.

‘Do you hypnotize them? Fool? What are you doing?

Dracula smiled as if he was waiting for this question.

‘Horses are stronger and tougher than humans. The portion of blood that will cost you a serious illness or put an adult young man to bed is almost imperceptible for a horse. I had never tried drinking their blood before and therefore did not know how sharply and deeply they react to contact. Amazing animals.’

‘But they can't like it!’

‘They like closeness,’ Dracula said thoughtfully, ‘and they are incredibly generous.’

Yes, and also sincere and discerning. Resistant to Dracula's charm, they seem to have loved him for no reason.

During the time that they lived together, Agatha managed to find out that Dracula had two types of charm. The first is the very vampire charm that was written about in books and legends warned about. It was powerful, bright, and beating on the spot. It reminded Agatha of the scent of flowers that appeared in early spring in Holland – hyacinths. Thick, heavy, enveloping odor. Among the peasants, there were stories that if you fall asleep in a tightly closed room, in which there is a bouquet of hyacinths, you may not wake up.

Dracula used his vampire charm mostly for entertainment, or when he wanted to quickly get what he needed. He lavished it generously at balls and appointments, signing contracts with business partners, on walks and social events such as theater premieres and horse races, while sparing no one.

Once they were at the performance of the famous opera diva who came to London on tour, either from France or from Germany, – Agatha did not remember, – and after the performance, Dracula invited Agatha to go into the diva`s dressing room, – ‘to express our admiration for the singer,’ as he said... Agatha agreed, not suspecting a catch. The performance was really beautiful, the diva sang magically, and there was nothing surprising in the desire to personally pay tribute to her talent.

So they did, and everything went well until Dracula – the very kindness and the embodiment of secular courtesy – asked the diva if she would be an encore. Diva replied that, alas, she would not, as she was tired and would like to go home as soon as possible.

And then it turned on. Vampire charm. In vain the unfortunate singer babbled something about how exhausted after the performance she was, – when dark eyes flashed and a soft smile lit up the cramped dressing room, the diva's fate was decided. Hearing the words spoken in an intimate tone about how much his companion loves opera and how happy she will be to hear such a delightful performance again, the singer turned around and silently wandered onto the stage.

Agatha did not speak to Dracula after that for three days. She hated violence in any form.

But there was also another charm, the one that Agatha remembered from Demeter, the same, probably, that made her believe in a cozy living room and soft conversation at chess – more than vampire illusions and drug intoxication.

Agatha called it ‘a charm for his own’, and if she quickly learned to resist the charm of a vampire, and soon completely lost the interest, then she was powerless against this one.

Dracula looked at ‘his’ people with a gentle warm look and smiled with a cheerful, almost boyish smile. It was physically impossible to deny him anything when he was like that, which he shamelessly used during quarrels.

He did not ask, did not demand, and did not scandal. Did not push and did not try to confuse. He just smiled and said: ‘As you say, dragostea*.’

‘Better vampire charm,’ Agatha moaned and vowed to buy a bell so that she could inform him in advance and without words that he had crossed the line.

...Agatha pulled away from Dracula and, smiling, went to the sofa.

‘The poor professor deserves a second chance,’ she said, leaning back.

‘I gave him everything possible,’ Dracula answered, ‘he missed them.’

‘So maybe we should just leave him alone?’

‘No, I need him.’

Agatha waved her hand. It was useless to argue. All she could do for the Cambridge pundit was to arrange for a good dinner and a relaxed, friendly atmosphere at this very dinner. All the rest was, alas, beyond her power.

The clock struck a quarter to one. Agatha thought idly that she should go to the kitchen and discuss the menu with the housekeeper. And let her cook the steaks with blood, she decided vengefully.

***

Professor Theodore Clifferson was a great scientist and no less an idiot. A combination that Agatha did not believe existed until today. But after spending three hours at the table with the aforementioned professor, she had to admit that sometimes intelligence and learning are depressingly different things.

When the door finally closed behind the venerable merchants and the Cambridge celebrity, and it became possible to remove the kind smile from her face and give vent to the irritation that had pursued her all evening, Agatha wandered into the living room and, groaning with relief, fell on the sofa.

‘Why didn't you warn me?’ she asked Dracula, who came in after her.

‘About what?’ he sank down beside her and pulled her to him.

‘How can you know so much and be such a cretin?’ Agatha continued without listening to him.

‘A common story,’ Dracula chuckled. ‘You look from the point of view of someone who, for the sake of knowledge, was forced to fight the circumstances and mine them like gold,’ he said. ‘And your inquiring mind cannot imagine someone who, from his youth, having access to the fruits of progress, does not realize their value. And worse – to whom they are not useful.’

Agatha covered her face with her hands and shook her head.

‘I want to forget this.’

Dracula buried his fingers in her hair and sat for several minutes, fingering the thick strands.

‘Forget this or what he said at the end?’ he asked quietly.

Agatha, leaning back in his arms, straightened.

‘What did he…’

‘Agatha.’

She knew that look too well. Freeing herself from his embrace, she sat up straight, as if in a theology lesson. Come on, she never visited them. Although it might have been worth it. At least, she would have learned – if not to quote freely from the holy book, than to look calm and confident, when she had not a penny neither the first nor the second.

Damn Clifferson.

‘Dracula, you shouldn't, really…’ Agatha began.

He sighed.

‘I thought so. Should I say it myself, or, as before, do you perfectly understand where you are?’

Agatha shivered at the reminder. But he was right – the situations in which it sounded were too similar. And something had to be done about it.

She tried to smile.

‘Of course, I know. But that hasn't... Look, he's just a stupid boy. Saw something and said tactlessness.’

Well, if you could call it that. Agatha briefly thought that the dinner was already as unpleasant as it could, so that...

‘Clifferson said that you and I are lucky,’ Dracula said slowly, ‘since our age is not too different. And that means,’ he added in the deep silence, ‘we are not threatened to live the rest of our lives in separation, without another who has left this mortal world.’

Well, Agatha thought. Well, he said it. It will no longer be possible to pretend that what the unlucky professor blurted out does not exist or none of them heard him.

Turning away from Dracula, she began to look at the copper dial of the clock, which she was winding in the morning.

Time. Over the past year, she and Dracula were absorbed in settling in the new world, taking care of the house, experimenting, in the end, each other, so much that they forgot about time.

Anyway, she forgot. She hadn't thought about it at all. Looking at Dracula again, Agatha suddenly realized that she would not believe for anything, that he hadn`t.

‘I'm forty-two,’ she said quietly. ‘And if I'm lucky, I'll live long enough to bore you terribly.’

He was silent.

‘And even when I... When you live with people, time does not drag on as long as when you spend it alone,’ Agatha felt how with every step the ground beneath her becomes less reliable. ‘When it is filled with events... and meetings…’

Dracula still didn't say a word.

‘In fifty years, I will be…’ she made another attempt, in an almost inaudible voice, knowing perfectly well that it made no sense.

In fifty years, a decrepit old woman will be with him, but he will remain as young, no older than the same forty-five or fifty.

Pulling herself together, she finally looked into his eyes.

‘Sorry,’ she said in response to the silent gaze that met her, and, quickly getting up from her seat, left.

When Dracula went up after her into the bedroom, he pretended to believe her awkward attempts to pretend to be asleep, and Agatha spent the time until dawn, staring into the darkness, trying to figure out how to be and what to do next.

‘How could I forget that you are a vampire?’ having entered the next morning without knocking into the parlor and resting her palms on the table at which Dracula was sitting, she asked.

Dracula looked up from the settlement book, in which he was writing something.

‘Yes, that's my omission,’ he said, leaning back in his chair.

Agatha looked at him for a minute, then turned on her heels and left the parlor.

They did not see each other for the next two days. Early on Saturday morning, Dracula went out of town to choose a place for a new stud farm, warning her through the housekeeper that he would not return earlier than Monday evening, and Agatha, not knowing whether to enjoy the unexpected respite, or be angry with him, considered it best switch to something else, and completely immersed in experiments.

‘Why is your face black?’ were the first words that returned Dracula greeted her with. He stood at the door of the laboratory and surveyed the surroundings with curiosity. To tell the truth, a lot has changed here since he visited it three days ago: then there were many more whole flasks and jars and less broken glass on the floor.

‘When heated to the boiling point, horse blood explodes,’ Agatha said calmly and carefully placed the test tube she was holding in a tripod.

Dracula nodded and, looking out the door, took out a scoop and a broom and began sweeping soot, stone dust, and debris that covered the floor in the middle of the room.

Armed with a rag and a jug of water, Agatha joined him in cleaning the table and chairs from the burning.

‘I'm not angry about your silence,’ she said after about half an hour, distracted from polishing the gas burner. ‘I understand that the problem is not that this question has no answer.’

Dracula looked up. They both knew very well that the problem was that the answer was too obvious.

‘You know it can't be my decision,’ he said.

‘I know,’ Agatha nodded. ‘Give me time,’ she added after a short pause and began scrubbing the alembic.

***

‘Sir, I swear I would never…’

‘Remove your pockets.’

Agatha glanced into the living room.

Dracula stood by the fireplace with his back to her, in front of him was a terrified coachman, drawn to the line.

‘It's a mistake, sir. I beg you…’

‘It was a mistake to keep the silver cigarette case in the dresser. However, so was hiring you,’ Dracula's voice was cold and indifferent. ‘By returning it voluntarily, you will save time for all of us.’

‘I…’

Dracula tilted his head.

‘It's in your right pocket. Next to old tissue paper, dirty silk ribbon, and flakes of tobacco.’

The coachman hiccupped and recoiled.

‘How…’

Dracula held out his hand.

‘It rustles deafeningly,’ he said, taking the cigarette case from the coachman's shaking hand. ‘If you are attracted by the career of a pickpocket, then first learn not to stomp like an elephant when you take someone else's, and not to rattle with loot. You will come in the evening for the calculation,’ he finished, gesturing to let go of the unfortunate man.

Dropping his shoulders, the coachman nodded and went to the door.

‘Vampire hearing,’ Agatha said, letting the unlucky thief pass and entering the room. ‘Strongly interferes with maintaining faith in people.’

‘Those who had the one,’ Dracula smiled. He put the cigarette case on the mantelpiece and turned to Agatha. ‘Looking for the benefits of being a vampire?’ he asked innocently.

‘I'm conducting surveillance,’ Agatha said.

She went to the fireplace and looked at the cigarette case.

‘You knew he stole it because you heard it rub against the lining of his pocket.’

Dracula rubbed the bridge of his nose.

‘He dragged around with it for a week. He had been looking for someone to sell it for so long that I could hardly resist not offering myself as a buyer, just to get rid of this annoying sound.’

Agatha walked around one of the armchairs by the fireplace and stood in front of Dracula.

‘Have you been waiting for his nerves to break down and he confesses, or for the right occasion when you can show me once again the benefits of being a vampire?’

‘How can you,’ Dracula was sincerely offended.

Agatha grinned and sank into a chair.

‘Okay, what else?’ Decently folded her hands on her knees, she asked.

Dracula shrugged.

‘You know all this. After all, you've been watching me for a year. I'm sure you wrote it down and sorted it into categories in those notebooks of yours.’ He nodded at Agatha’s diary on the table. ‘It is unlikely that I can add something else.’

‘Okay, then let's go over the main points,’ Agatha nodded, without changing her pose.

Dracula smiled.

‘You are strong and enduring, you have an increased ability to heal wounds, you can stay awake for weeks and understand some animals.’ She paused. ‘You can control some of them. You can climb walls and send fog.’ Noticing his approving nod, Agatha continued: ‘Let's add to this the ability to keenly smell and hypersensitive hearing…’

‘...tirelessness in bed...’

‘Um, did you notice that I fall asleep in the middle?..’ Agatha got up and walked over to him.

Dracula smiled again.

‘I'm working on it,’ he said, hugging her.

Agatha was silent for a moment and turned away.

‘Is it normal? I mean, how... how right is that?’ absentmindedly running her hand over his shoulder, she said.

‘What exactly?’ Dracula asked.

Agatha frowned and rubbed her forehead thoughtfully.

‘The world works the way it works, for a reason,’ she said slowly. ‘All living beings die, replacing each other. How natural is it to be immortal?’

She lifted her head and looked at Dracula.

‘Vampires are mortal,’ he said. ‘Agatha, the time when I offered you eternal life is over,’ he added after a short pause. ‘But it’s obvious that I would rather live long before I’m ready to face death. I do not know how much this is against nature, but I still have not heard of heavenly thunder punishing parrots, sequoias, and turtles.’

‘Oh my God,’ Agatha laughed. ‘Of the above, I know only sequoias. And then according to the pictures.’

‘And the parrots?’

‘Are they centenarians?’

Dracula shook his head.

‘The oldest ones are four hundred years old. Turtles can live twice as long. Ask Clifferson about sequoias, but as far as I remember, their exact age cannot be determined.’

Agatha grimaced, demonstrating her attitude to the need to learn something from Clifferson.

‘I will not become immortal,’ she said, summing up, ‘but I will lose the ability to eat human food, sleep at night, and breathe.’

‘A matter of habit,’ Dracula shrugged.

‘But I will learn to understand bats.’

‘What scope for your work on small rodents and nocturnal insects!’

Agatha sighed.

‘Are you kidding?’

‘Yes, I am.’

She nodded.

Everything is the same as before.

‘Decide yourself.’

***

‘Please, try to be more restrained in the future,’ Agatha said with a sad smile, holding out an envelope to the boy standing in front of her. The young man nodded, drooping guiltily, cautiously, as if afraid that his touch would burn her, took the envelope from her hands, and, saying goodbye, left the room.

For a minute Agatha looked at the door that closed behind him, and then she also left the parlor and went into the living room.

She managed to persuade Dracula to give the coachman decent recommendations, and a couple of weeks after the unpleasant incident, Agatha found a good place for the guy. Dracula watched all this with restrained skepticism, but remained silent and did not interfere. Agatha suspected that he had threatened the poor coachman with some terrible punishment – the boy was in too much haste to leave their house. But in the end, even she was forced to admit that he got off easy.

In the living room, on the sofa with a book, sat Dracula. When she appeared, he moved, making a place next to him.

Approaching, Agatha climbed onto the sofa with her legs and leaned back, resting her head on his lap. Several minutes passed in silence, broken only by the measured ticking of the grandfather clock.

‘Will it be like with Harker?’ Agatha asked. ‘Will you break my neck and sit down to wait for me to wake up?’

‘God, Agatha, no, of course,’ Dracula put down the book. He looked shocked. ‘Where did you get that?’

‘The first thing that comes to mind. I mean,’ she said, looking sideways at him, ‘the most obvious and simplest.’

‘Didn't you say that you would beat the barbarism out of me?’

She looked up at him.

‘Is that when you burned a five hundred pound electric kettle? I was on edge.’

‘I noticed.’

He brushed a lock of hair from her face.

‘How could you think that I…’

Agatha shrugged.

‘It must somehow... I mean, if in order to turn a person you need…’

‘No damage. This is out of the question,’ Dracula said in an unchallengeable tone.

Agatha looked at him thoughtfully.

‘There are other ways,’ she said, scratching her nose. ‘Strangulation, various poisons. Drowning…’

Dracula bent down and, choking with laughter, buried in her shoulder.

‘Agatha,’ he moaned, ‘your imagination is really scary.’

‘I'm trying to solve the problem,’ Agatha said. ‘That's what the smart do,’ she teased.

‘The smart ones like to complicate things,’ said Dracula, straightening up and looking at her. ‘The most obvious is not always the simplest. Why, of all imaginable and inconceivable ways, did not the most humane one come to your mind?’ He rolled his eyes at her puzzled gaze. ‘Which one of us is the prince of darkness and the lord of shadows?’

‘No one encroaches on your laurels,’ Agatha grinned. ‘Wait. You want to say…’

Dracula bent down again and brushed his lips lightly over hers.

‘My love, you forgot that a vampire's kiss can be very long.’

***

The fabric was red and the earth was red. Heavy woolen floors flowed like a scarlet stream over the horse's white rump, crumpled from above, and ended in a silver fox collar. The rider's long hair was messed and matted with blood, and crimson dawn caked in his wide-open eyes.

Bending down and grabbing the horse by the neck, the rider rushed forward, as if not making out the road, through the black and red forest, in a straight line, to the ancient castle, frozen on the rock.

Bursting into the courtyard, the rider stood up sharply, pulled on the reins. Dismounting, he threw them to the frightened horseman who ran up, unfastened an oblong large sack from the saddle. He walked with a quick step through the gate, dragging his load along the ground. In the great hall, he stopped and threw the sack on the floor in front of him. He raised his head and brushed the dirty, wet strands from his forehead.

‘I said he would be here before sunrise,’ he turned to someone sitting in a dark corner.

‘Is it really him?’ asked from the darkness.

Pulling a knife from his belt, the rider bent down to the sack and cut the thick cloth, soaked and hardened in the frost.

A pale human face appeared in the narrow gap.

‘I said I’ll deliver him,’ the rider said again, put the knife back in his belt and left, not looking neither at the one he was talking to nor at the dead man lying on the floor.

...

Two thick long candles were barely enough to light the middle of the room. Hands were aching from the cold, and he felt as if Transylvanian soil was poured into his eyes. The younger heir to the old Count Dracul raised up, turned several times, on one side, on the other, and finally lay on his back, his meaningless gaze resting on the carved canopy above him.

There are no younger heirs. Neither for princes and kings from distant lands, nor for Wallachian rulers. From ancient times the eldest sons inherit the ruler who has died in peace or fallen on the battlefield. But what if both the ruler himself and his firstborn left God's world in one day? From the elder brother, if he has no male descendants, the younger takes power. The one that survived.

The heir moved his head and gritted his teeth. God knows he did not seek this power, he did not want to. In vain the courtiers grinned in disbelief, clinked their tongues, suspecting treason, the squad whispered in vain when they brought them, father and brother, on a narrow sleigh – without a drop of blood on expensive clothes and without a single paint on their faces. In vain the brother's widow sobbed loudly, rushing in the yard like a thin hungry bird, in vain screaming and howling – you did not keep him safe, you did not rescue him. In vain she threatened to curse.

He did not wish death to either his father or his brother. Never wanted to become a ruler. Perhaps that is why he was not touched by the piercing words of the courtiers, or the cries of his daughter-in-law, or the sidelong glances of the squad. Standing motionless next to the sleigh, he silently looked at the gathered soldiers and household, did not say anything, only wrapped himself in a warm cloak. And only when the wrong old steps were tapping on the stone slabs of the yard, did he turn around.

Old Count Dracul, a patriarch of eighty-seven years of age, dressed in a light marching cape over a simple linen shirt, slowly walked over to the sleigh and sat down beside it. With long fingers, white and hard as a January crust, he stroked the dead faces. Raised his head to the gray sky. Said, addressing the younger:

‘Bring me the murderer.’

The younger nodded.

He did it all, he did it, – the young Count Dracula got up and ran his hand over his face damp with sweat. It took five hours to search, three of which the heir spent on horseback, racing to the border, hurrying to catch up the defector who had surrendered the lord and his son to Turkish spies, and who was about to join the foreign troops. Almost drove father's stallion. Intercepted, managed.

The light from the candle flickered, swept as if alarmed by a sharp gust of wind. Dracula looked around and lay back on the pillows. What a strange night. It feels like there is something, moving in the corner... As if sitting in silence and looking, waiting for the moment when...

‘What's wrong, young heir, not sleeping? Do ya not satisfied with the blood of the enemy?’ a voice, deaf and raspy, rang out very close to him.

Dracula jumped up and backed away.

‘What scared you, noble master? Why don't you meet a guest?’ squeaked mockingly from the shadows. ‘Or are you afraid to look?’

Dracula turned in the direction from which the voice was heard.

A thin, tall man with an unhealthy blush on his sunken cheeks emerged from the thick darkness that began two spans from the bed.

‘Why are you silent, master?’ he asked Dracula, who stared at him in horror. ‘Why don’t you offer a glass, why don’t you invite me to the table?’

Without waiting for an answer, the man stepped forward and stopped at the very edge of the bed.

‘It can't be. I killed you,’ said Dracula.

‘That's right, you did,’ the man bared his teeth and opened the tattered, worn-out sheepskin coat he was wearing. A scarlet slit crossed the shirt underneath from throat to groin. The man lowered his head and, touching the cut, plunged a knotted finger into it. ‘It hurts,’ with a barely audible smack, removing his finger from the wound, he said thoughtfully, ‘it hurts, but you can live.’

Dracula felt sick.

‘How did you manage...’ He straightened up in bed and reached for his belt for a knife.

‘Take your time,’ the man rushed forward, grabbing Dracula's raised hand. His fingers were inhumanly strong and cold as ice. ‘We`ll have all night.’

‘What are you?’ Dracula, recoiling, whispered with his lips, already knowing the answer.

‘I am Grigor Vostritsa, Grigor-The-Traitor, Grigor, whom your gullible dad warmed on his chest, and the crazy grandpa ordered to catch and feed the mad dogs,’ the man replied, grinning. ‘Grigor, who missed the spoil, and came for it. And what a feast it will be...’

Long, sharp teeth gleamed in the candlelight.

Dracula screamed.

...

‘Dracula! Wake up! Dracula! Come on, wake up, it's just a dream!’

Agatha struggled to shake Dracula, who was rushing about in unconsciousness. Not needing to sleep in the usual sense of the word, at night he plunged into a semblance of numbness, which helped him not so much to restore physical strength as to give rest to his mind. This state was in every way similar to a human dream, with the exception that it was more difficult to end it.

Agatha moved closer to Dracula. He looked even paler than usual, shivering and whispering something in Romanian.

Sitting on the bed, Agatha took a deep breath. The sounds made by Dracula were not loud enough to wake her up. But after what happened on Demeter, already here, in London, Agatha sometimes began to sink into his dreams.

Most often they were just scraps of images and vague impressions – reminiscent of flat shadows on a gray stone wall. They were short and blurry, and after them, in the morning Agatha got up with a headache, a feeling of loneliness, and dull melancholy.

Today, for the first time, the dream was so real and clear.

‘Dracula! Wake up, Dracula!’ Agatha tried again.

Dracula groaned and reached for her without opening his eyes.

Agatha bent down and ran a hand over his sweaty chest. Gently stroked, sliding from shoulder to stomach and back, lingering to the left, where the heart was silent, softly touched his cheek. As if alarmed even more by this short caress, Dracula got up and sat up in bed.

For a while, he simply sat without moving, in the light of the moon falling from the window.

Agatha was silent, not daring to turn to him again.

Dracula winced and took a deep breath, and then suddenly opened his eyes and looked at her.

There was such pain in his eyes that it stabbed inside her.

Without a word, she stirred and, sitting down on his lap, hugged him tightly.

‘Everything is fine, everything will pass,’ she whispered, ‘everything will pass, it's just a dream. This is a dream. This is a dream, you killed him,’ she said, kissing his hot forehead and cheeks, ‘you won, he's gone.’

She was saying something else, snuggling up to him and feeling how the nightgown was getting wet from the heat, putting herself under the hands and lips that were taking possession of her – for the first time so strongly, furiously – and so unexpectedly good.

When the splash of pleasure dies down and she opens her eyes, the moon seems higher – the light floods the room, leaving no corner untouched. Agatha looks at Dracula, who is holding her with both hands, and just sits for a couple of seconds, admiring his tired, peaceful face.

The rest is seen as natural as spontaneous. Slightly pulling back, Agatha pushes aside the collar of her shirt, throwing her hair back and exposing her shoulder.

‘Come on. I'm not afraid,’ she says, moving closer to him again and screwing up.

For several long minutes, nothing happens at all.

Opening her eyes, Agatha stares blankly at Dracula. He sits motionless and looks at her, smiling openly and tenderly.

‘No, Agatha,’ he says. ‘Not today. Not this way.’

***

‘You're avoiding me?’

Agatha met Dracula at the entrance to the living room and stopped, blocking his path.

‘Where did you get it?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it's all because we haven't seen each other since last week.’ Agatha shrugged.

‘I have a lot to do,’ Dracula tried to walk past her into the room, but Agatha did not budge.

‘You leave home in the morning when I’m still asleep, and you come back after midnight,’ she said. ‘If you come at all. On Tuesday and Wednesday, you were not here, although the carriage did not leave the gate and all the horses remained in the stable.’

Dracula took a deep breath.

‘If I wanted to lead a secret life, I should have chosen someone not so observant,’ he said with a short smile.

‘At least,’ stepping aside, Agatha nevertheless cleared the passage.

After following Dracula into the living room and sitting next to him on the sofa, she was silent for a while.

‘I don’t believe it’s because of what happened that night,’ she said quietly at last. Lowering her eyes, she absentmindedly smoothed the folds of the dress. ‘You and I knew worse times, and I saw you in a much more unsightly light. If now...’

‘Agatha.’ She raised her eyes and met his gaze. ‘You know that's not true,’ he said.

‘I know,’ she sighed. ‘And I also know that you never lied to me or hid anything from me. Even on the Demeter.’ She waved off when she saw the protesting expression on his face. ‘You didn’t deceive me – all I needed to know about what was happening was in front of my eyes. I just didn't get it right away. Which, of course, doesn't make your behavior acceptable,’ she said immediately. And added: ‘You drank my blood and made me a favorite dessert, but you did not lie to me.’

Dracula was silent.

‘You were honest, although you fed on me, and took me to the ship against my will,’ Agatha continued. ‘That is why your behavior seems all the more strange to me... now when I said ‘yes’.’

Still silently, Dracula leaned back on the sofa. His lips were tightly compressed, and his eyebrows were furrowed, as if for a long time he had been trying to solve a problem that turned out to be too difficult, and could not bring himself to stop thinking about it.

Agatha regarded him thoughtfully.

‘Maybe…’ she began slowly, ‘maybe this is the whole point? That I agreed?’

Dracula turned his head and looked at her amazedly.

‘Count Dracula, the Wallachian ruler,’ said Agatha, ‘cannot choose the daughter of a merchant from a distant province as a life partner. Which has neither a title, nor a suitable name, nor a sufficiently well-born family.’ She looked straight at Dracula. ‘The laws of blood are harsh and unbreakable.’

‘Agatha,’ it was clear from his look that her suggestion took him by surprise, ‘Agatha, I have been living with you for over a year.’

‘It's one thing to live together, sharing leisure and bed, and even going out by the arm, and quite another,’ she smiled, ‘to enter into a relationship under the hand of the clan and under the coat of arms of the dragon. You could reject me when I become a vampire,’ Agatha said, not allowing him to object, ‘reject, as soon as I would bore you – but it was not accidentally that you called those you turned brides. Obligated to you with a new life – no matter how terrible and gloomy it might be – they have become part of your family. As I would. And even you wouldn't be able to change that. Wherever I went and wherever I lived my indefinitely long centuries, I would forever remain Dracula's companion, recognized and accepted by him.’

The silence that followed her words was long, but contrary to her expectations, it did not seem depressing. For a couple of minutes, Dracula just sat, still frowning and unconsciously rubbing the ring on his ring finger.

‘Four hundred years ago I was baptized in Orthodoxy,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘What?’ Agatha did not understand. She leaned back slightly and eyed him suspiciously.

‘I presume, you are a Catholic,’ Dracula continued, as if he hadn’t heard her. ‘It is unlikely that we will be married under this condition, so, apparently, I will have to convert to Catholicism.’

Agatha looked at him in amazement.

‘Why not me – to Orthodoxy?’ she asked blankly.

‘Because considering what you just told me, it would be offensive to me.’

They looked at each other for several seconds until Agatha turned away, covering her face with her hands.

‘Am I making up nonsense?’ muttered, feeling him hug her.

‘You're too smart,’ Dracula smiled, kissing the top of her head. ‘I should have taken this into account when I suggested to you... I should have talked about it with you right away. Everything you said’ he pulled away and looked at her ‘is absolutely reasonable and absolutely real. Except that has nothing to do with you and me.’ He brushed the hair from her cheek and added: ‘I have not been a Wallachian ruler for a long time, Agatha. Not in the sense in which you described it. And even if I were still a sovereign medieval seigneur, I would be free to choose a wife to my liking. I would have offered you my hand and heart a year ago,’ he said when he saw Agatha trying to protest, ‘if I thought it meant anything to you.’

Agatha averted her eyes.

‘I thought... I thought after I agreed...’

‘I suddenly realized with all clarity how you would humiliate my good name,’ Dracula laughed. ‘This is perhaps the best thing that I have heard about myself in four hundred years.’

‘But still...’ Agatha did not stop.

‘You were right,’ Dracula interrupted. ‘That night I realized for the first time that it was serious. And I wondered if I really want this for you?’

‘You told me...’

‘Agatha,’ he said, burying his fingers in her hair, ‘it's a long life, Agatha. A life in which values, people, traditions, and customs change. The future and the present, as before, become the past. Only now you don't go with them. Others leave – relatives and acquaintances, faithful servants, and old friends. Not all of them you can take with you. And sometimes you just have to look after them. It hurts, Agatha.’

He fell silent again. Raising her hand, Agatha ran her fingers over his cheek. ‘You will be with me,’ she wanted to tell, but she held back. They both knew perfectly well what a world closed for two could turn into over the years.

Unexpectedly to herself, she laughed.

‘Changing faith can be easier than coming to terms with yourself,’ she said in response to his questioning look. ‘But if trees and birds can,’ Agatha added, remembering their conversation with Dracula about longevity, ‘then I can too.’

He looked at her uneasily and incredulously, and it was like their first evening in this house.

‘And you know what else?’ Agatha said. She hesitated. ‘I want to ask you: do not create any illusions by doing this. I want to know what's going on. I go for it with open eyes, and I want it to apply to everything.’

Dracula smiled and covered her fingers over his face.

‘As you wish,’ he replied.

***

November 15, 1898, Times

‘We are pleased to announce that on November 15 of this year in London, at Carfax Abbey, the wedding of Count Vlad Dracula and Miss Agatha Van Helsing took place.’

Agatha put the newspaper down on the dressing table and cast a thoughtful look at the ring on her hand. A thin strip of gold glittering in the twilight of the room seemed like a spark on the surface of the calm sea. Agatha chuckled shortly. A sea that she never intended to enter. It was not only about her past as a nun – her stay in the convent was short and rather forced than chosen at the call of her heart. Marriage as it was just never seemed attractive to her – or useful from any side.

She was distracted from the contemplation of the wedding ring and, straightening, began to remove the hairpins from her hair. Agatha hated complicated hairstyles, but for a sophisticated lady, especially in her current status, a wedding hairstyle was a must. Agatha sighed. It was already good that they managed to avoid a magnificent celebration, limiting themselves to a modest wedding in a local chapel.

The door to the room creaked softly as it opened and closed again.

Freed from bobby pins and hairpins, the hair fell to the shoulders in a heavy wave. Agatha looked in the mirror.

‘I look like a witch from old fairy tales,’ she said, turning in her chair, lifting her head and looking at Dracula standing in front of her. ‘Who appeared without an invitation to the royal palace.’

Dracula smiled.

‘Witches usually have a much more interesting past than the daughters of foresters and crown princesses.’

‘Maybe,’ Agatha agreed. ‘Did you let the servants go?’ she asked, getting up.

‘Gave them leave until next Wednesday.’

‘So long?’ Agatha, approached the bed and began to unfasten the hooks on the dress, anxiously turned around.

‘I think it will take less time,’ Dracula came over and freed a lock of red hair stuck in one of the fasteners. ‘Still, it’ll be better if you and I will be alone in the next week and we don’t have to look back at the door.’

Agatha nodded. Her fingers returned to the hooks and laces. Having straightened with them, she shrugged her shoulders, and the dress slid to her feet.

She did not see Dracula, but she knew for sure that he was watching her. Stepping over the dress, she straightened the lace shirt on her chest and, walking slowly to the bed, climbed onto it.

Slightly closing her eyes, she watches as Dracula locks the bedroom door, extinguishes the lamps one by one, leaving only the candle at the head of the bed to burn, and, going up to the bed, reaches for a silk scarf tied with an elegant knot around his neck.

Once next to her, he sits down behind and, holding Agatha to him, runs his palms over her hands. His fingers stop at the shoulders, freeze as if in thought, grasp the shock of hair that has been scattered down her back, and lift it up.

A slow, long kiss on the back of her head makes her arch and bite her lip. For a few seconds, Dracula does not move, and then he kisses her again and sinks lower, his hands slide forward, to the buttons of the shirt, lower the thin fabric from her shoulders.

Closing her eyes, Agatha completely surrenders to her feelings. From fleeting touches, the body burns and melts, filling from the inside with a silent ringing, opening and dissolving, almost disappearing, until it gathers again at one point to the left, where the neck passes into the shoulder.

...Soft darkness surrounded her from all sides. There was absolutely nothing frightening about it: Agatha stirred and tried to turn her head rather out of curiosity.

‘Don't resist,’ Dracula's voice rang through her head. And a second later – a chuckle. ‘You'll like it.’

***

The awakening was... sharp. And in a completely literal sense. Smells, sounds, colors were sharp. From the world hanging over Agatha, details seemed to appear and emerge at once.

Dust particles on the dark red velvet curtain of the bed. A scent of fresh varnish rising from a parquet floor painted three weeks ago. Spiky sheets that scratch the body with the skin of an ancient beast. Electric discharges from the back of the head and lost in the thick of long hair.

Agatha closed her eyes. The raging sea of spots of color disappeared and was replaced by a thin squeak.

‘When will the convulsions begin?’ Agatha asked into space without opening her eyes. Her own voice sounded low and hoarse, heavy in her ears.

‘So you want to try?’

Agatha opened her eyes. Dracula's pale face bent over her. A mosquito hovered carefree beside his right cheek.

‘Not that I wanted,’ Agatha said slowly, shifting her gaze from the mosquito to Dracula. ‘I just thought it was part of the process.’

‘Apparently, not always,’ Dracula held out his hand and helped her to rise and sit, leaning on the pillows. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Loud,’ Agatha muttered, wincing.

‘It's okay,’ Dracula leaned away and reached out to the side. ‘You are hungry?’ asked. Agatha lowered her eyes to the crystal glass that appeared in his hand. The dark scarlet liquid in it looked unusually tempting.

‘I don’t know,’ Agatha said barely audibly and looked at Dracula in dismay. ‘I can't,’ she blurted out and closed her eyes, once again dazed by the sound of her voice.

‘Agatha, this is not human blood,’ Dracula reminded her gently. ‘And if you're not ready, we can still wait. It's just that the sooner you satisfy your first hunger, the less strong and uncontrollable it will be later.’

Agatha nodded silently.

Swallowing shortly, she stretched out her hand to the glass – and immediately leaned back, groaning exhaustedly.

‘Agatha?’ Dracula asked worriedly.

‘So many... so many things,’ she said, shaking her head and licking her lips.

Dracula put his hand on her forehead. The rough skin of the palm felt like a touch of stiff paper, but it was cool and soothing.

‘You’ll get used to it,’ Dracula said quietly. ‘In the beginning, it is always like that.’

Agatha could not resist a skeptical smile.

‘It has advantages,’ Dracula whispered conspiratorially, bending over slightly. ‘And a lot.’

‘I remember,’ Agatha snorted. ‘The ability to hear rats scratching under the floor, to catch negligent coachmen...’ Hot lips, catching her earlobe, silenced her. ‘Give me a little time,’ she said with an effort, ‘maybe I can find more.’

He laughed.

Agatha turned and looked again at the glass on the nightstand.

‘Lissa?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Dracula shook his head.

‘Are you afraid that I will find out your secrets with her?’ Agatha teased him. She climbed higher on the pillows and made herself comfortable. The first shock receded, and the deafening world gradually became just unusually bright and clear.

‘Too much information confuses newbies,’ smiled Dracula. ‘Besides, Lissa is active and willful. Her blood may excite you unnecessarily. This is Richard, a stallion from Angola, who arrived four weeks ago. Gentle and meek like a sleeping child.’

Agatha reached for the glass. She held it in her hand for a moment, staring at the dark liquid inside. Then she raised it to her lips and took a quick sip.

Nothing happened, and the curtain of the bed did not collapse on her head. It felt as if she had taken a sip of old thick wine. The metallic flavor confused her at first, but the further she drank, the more acutely she became aware of her hunger and the satisfaction of being able to satisfy it. A piercing blue sky, humid winds, and a light rustle of hot sand were felt in the shades of taste.

Having drained the glass to the end, Agatha put it back on the nightstand and licked her lips thoughtfully. Neither the taste, nor the sight, nor the smell of blood made her lose her mind, which she most feared. Perhaps, she mused, the insanity of many newly turned vampires was not caused by the craving for blood as such, but rather a consequence of the ‘return’ and the wave of impressions and feelings that attacked them.

Suddenly the silence of the room was broken by a sharp, persistent rustle. Like someone... Agatha turned quickly towards the sound and saw a large rat crawling across the floor.

Agatha squinted at Dracula. He gazed at her in silence, without a shadow of a smile, but his nostrils fluttered in a very familiar way.

‘You will not get it,’ she said.

* Dragostea (Romanian) – love.

[elenothar]

Fic Writer Interview Game

Tagged by @jockvillagersonly - thank you! I’m delighted by all these frogs! 💖

✨🐸🌱🐸🌱🐸✨

🐸👉 name: Elenothar

🐸👉 fandoms: that I’m currently writing in - Guardian and DMBJ, and I always dabble in Tolkien

🐸👉 two shots? my first reaction was no, then I checked AO3 and ... it’s still a no. I’ve got oneshots that could be divided into two chapters, but I tend to just bung it all in at once.

🐸👉 most popular multi-chapter fic: without a doubt, and probably forever, lay down your sweet and weary head. The Hobbit fandom was very good to me.

🐸👉 actual worst part of writing: bridging scenes. I gave up on writing things sequentially a long time ago, and now I end up with all these scenes I actually wanted to write that I somehow have to make into a coherent whole. Terrible.

🐸👉 how you choose your titles: the usual process goes something like this: oh no, I still need a title. Ask friends if anyone has any ideas. Sometimes I’m lucky and they do. If I’m not, I stare at the doc in increasing panic for a few hours and finally slap something terrible on the fic just so I can get it posted. Poetry sometimes helps.

🐸👉 do you outline? for oneshots, no. For longer things I... try. But honestly, the plot always goes off the rails halfway through anyway, so detailed outlining has never worked all that well for me. I’ll usually manage to put down the big story beats though.

🐸👉 ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice? all of those long multi-chapter (or even multi-part) fics that I think about and then decide would be too much effort? Idk, I’d like to write some sprawling AU series in the Guardian fandom, but it’s not all that likely to happen. I don’t have any specific plot bunnies I’m despairing over never writing at the moment though.

🐸👉 callouts @ me: learn how to write short things! Also, endings.

🐸👉 best writing traits: definitely the hardest question on here, I find it very hard to categorise my own writing. Where fanfic is concerned, I think I do pretty well with getting into characters’ heads and keeping them in character, but the readers’ mileage on that probably varies.

🐸👉 spicy tangential opinion: I don’t even know what a spicy opinion is 😅 maybe that I really need people to format their fics in a way that makes them readable? Paragraph breaks and spacing are your friend.

✨🐸🌱🐸🌱🐸✨

Tagging: @perkynurples, @eirenical, @imaginarygolux, @norcumi, @hamelin-born, @akathecentimetre

[fantranslatorbychoice]

Kakuriyo no Yadomeshi Volume 6 Intermission 2 - Akatsuki, and a Letter from Utsushiyo

T/N: Heck yeah it's time for the two spider siblings to shine lol we haven't heard from Suzuran for a while now, well, spoiler alert she has left Kakuriyo and hasn't appeared yet since Volume 1 ended, or in the anime when she chose to live on someone's grave. *cough, Shirou, cough* Well, I guess that’s just that. I hope you enjoy reading this short one.

Also if you like this translation, you can heart it, share the link, reblog, I just respectfully ask that DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE. This is my contribution to the scant English content of this fandom, and I worked really hard to finish this thing, it’s not like I just copy-pasted everything. I even had to build the kanji in Jisho one by one. Try it and you’ll see what I mean.You can rave about this, rant about this, but if possible please link back to this page. If you’re unsure how to do that, just copy the web address of this page. If you’re on a blogsite just insert the web address as a hyperlink as a link back to here. Honestly if this light novel was officially-published in English, I wouldn’t even be doing this right now... And if it did, I’d take this offline to support the publishers and Yuuma-sensei. Creators support creators, is what I believe in. As previously-mentioned in earlier chapters, if you stumbled upon this one, the two seasons of the anime covered volumes 1-5, so other than the extra details, you didn’t miss much stuff.

OK Here we go-- P148 "Thank you for coming to Tenjin-ya, we look forward to seeing you again." I am an earth spider, a Tsuchigumo named Akatsuki. I am Tenjin-ya's head receptionist. The waitresses and the Gesokuban** has sent off the final guest for today with a smile, and my work as the head receptionist has ended. The moment that the last guest gets sent off, I always breathe a sigh of relief. The front desk's work ended before evening, and the day before the entire inn is closed on a break, we all soak in the feeling of liberation. The young Ogre bellboys were shouting "It's rest day! It's rest day!" and were running around the front desk. The Bake-Tanuki Gesokuban Chiaki-san gathered the ogre bellboys together and assembled in the lobby, and called them one by one in sequential order. Many of the ogre children were orphans, and not only does Tenjin-ya go beyond in providing them work, but also the day before the inn closes for a break, apart from their salaries they also receive a bit of pocket money, and the very first in the line gets freed off from work. "Alright you lot, return to your dormitories like adults, so you won't cause any trouble during work." "OK-- Gesokubanchou**-sama!" As the ogre kids were lining up one by one, Chiaki-san encouraged them to return to their dormitories quietly. "If you run your pocket money gets forfeited. Oh, and greet the head receptionist too." T/N: Gesokuban= doornan, in charge of the guests' footwear. Sorta like bellboys too. Gesokubanchou=head of the doormen P149 "OK--. Goodbye, Bantou-sama!" "Ohhhh..." It's impossible for me to take care of those brats... It must be difficult to be in charge of the footwear. It's better to be a receptionist. "Whew, it's finally over. Ah, Akatsuki, after this, won't  you come with me to Gintengai to have some drinks?" After sending off the ogre children back to their dorms, Chiaki-san called up. He always has this soft smile and voice with a subservient attitude, but he is my sempai as he started a bit earlier than me in working for Tenjin-ya. Among the management staff he is the most recent to join, and considerably has a lot of assigned duties and tasks. "Oh, but tonight you're also going to Aoi-san's place to have dinner, don't you?" "No. Apparently today only the girls got together, they seemed to be having a weird meeting or something." "That's also what Kasuga said. She says that Aoi-san is very friendly to everyone in Tenjin-ya. Ah, Waka-danna sama, are you free tonight? If it's fine with you, would you like to go out and have a drink with me?" "Oh, that sounds nice, Chiaki." Chiaki-san also called up Waka-danna sama. It's weird that he's up for it. Chiaki-san, he seems to have an air of softness and limpness that I don't have, and sometimes I don't think he's appropriate for the reception desk. But the person in question is, among the management staff is said to be the number one outlier with having the position of Gesokubanchou, as he said previously that he likes his job. T/N: Bantou=head receptionist P150 "Ah, uhm... Akatsuki-sama, Chiaki-sama, Ginji-sama.." "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?" "If it's fine with you, would you want to go out and have fun with us?" There were three waitresses, they seem to choose at their own discretion when to talk to us. Lately, I have been invited to go out a lot. But for me, I want to get some rest on a rest day. "That sounds nice. But tomorrow I'm called to go back home to my parents' house. I hope you can invite me next time." Chiaki-san rubbed the back of his head, he seemed to be used to it by now and was resolute. Waka-danna sama seemed to be puzzled by the invitation, and flatly refused by saying "I too, have other scheduled appointments." I just decided and told them "That's a no-go" because it's too much of a hassle. "Oh, I see..." It's easy to understand that the waitresses got disappointed as their shoulders went down. "If that's so, then are you free the next time the inn closes for a break?" "Uhm...." The waitresses weren't discouraged. Why did Chiaki-san and Waka-danna sama looked at me over here? At most, you're always free and going out during resting days, it seems. Are you pranking the kouhai? "Hey, wait a minute you lot. Tomorrow the famous Kabuki lead actor named Yukinojou from Youto is coming to the Kabuki Troupe in Kimon**. T/N: Apparently this is what 鬼門 reads so I apologize if I wrote it as Onimon before, I was too much of a dumbass to correct everything oh well at least I learned it before finishing this volume lol P151 You're going out with those guys? You'll just keep screeching and screaming out." Suddenly, O-ryo appeared behind us. The waitresses seemed to lap up what O-ryo brought about, and went "Really?--" "You're kidding, is that true O-ryo?" "I have to check the bulletin board!" "Yukinojou-sama--!" Just a while ago they were disheartened and now they went off somewhere. The girls' high-pitched voices were ringing out, and they didn't even look back as they left us. "As expected of you, O-ryo san. You saved us." Waka-danna sama gratefully spoke to O-ryo, but she just raised an eyebrow and laughed at us. "You three, you were targetted by the waitresses. Among the management staff, you had the lowest difficulty levels. You got cornered, weren't you?" "Is that praise or is that disdain?" "Akatsuki, I saved you, you could at least thank me for it." O-ryo pointed her finger at me, and forced me to say thank you to her. She's surely shameless, an impatient and distasteful woman. P152 "O-ryo sama!" It's the Bake-Tanuki waitress, Kasuga has come and pulled the bottom of O-ryo's kimono. "Let's go now to Yugao. Aoi-chan's waiting." "OK, OK. Those group of single guys seem to be going out for drinks, but aren't we going to a glitzy girls' night-out? Awww, what a pity, you can't go with us--, you have no means to--" "O-ryo sama. They're also having that in secret. It's the same level as ours." As expected of Kasuga to point that out. She's merely a waitress, but her wit and cleverness is effective, and she is a hard-working Tanuki girl. I also unintentionally asked her to do errands and what not here and there. "Ah..." Kasuga turned her head towards us again, but stopped whatever she was about to say.. No, not really, but when she looked at us, it seemed that she looked at Chiaki-san who was beside us. Chiaki-san didn't seem to move a bit, but he just lazily smiled.

Inside Gintengai, the riverside were lined up with food carts, and it was the busiest corner. It was the place were middle-aged men gathered after work before returning home. The fowl grilling place had three open seats, and we each ordered our favorite liquor and had them heated and poured for us**. "Ahh, it's nice to have some barbecued fowl every now and then in these food carts." T/N: Yeah I know it's weird but sake or rice liquor is actually drunk either warmed up or at room temperature, I don't know why though, maybe to help the alcohol evaporate IDK because normally beers and wines are chilled then served, but hey, it is what it is lol. Also I just translated the fowl, or poultry from the generic term 鳥=tori because it can range from chicken to duck to turkey to exotic birds like guinea fowls and peahens. Like the offal hot pot, we can only guess what they were grilling here. I'd call duck and chicken lol P153 "Yeah, I agree. Waka-danna sama, whenever you're free you always go to Yugao, don't you? Every now and then let's get together, please?" "Yes, well, I'm here now, am I?" After seeing that the Waka-danna sama seems to be in good spirits, Chiaki-san requested to the Oyaji** "Ah, I'll have the chicken wings and scallion skewers. Everything plain salted." "I'll... Have the gizzards with scallions, plain salted, as well as some liver with dipping sauce, please." "I'll have the parson's nose** and some chicken meatloaf, with the skin. With dipping sauce." While the liquor bottles were being heated, we had a chat. The barbecued chicken that they were cooking soon gave off a delicious smell. "To be honest, it was a good thing that Waka-danna sama has returned to Tenjin-ya. During the time that Waka-danna sama was away, Tenjin-ya was in trouble. Akatsuki, somehow everyday acts like a little girlfriend running around saying 'We need you Waka-danna sama, please come hooome--'. That image has been burned inside my head." "What?" "Wait, Chiaki-san!" Well, the Waka-danna sama's usual workload isn't run of the mill, it's like it left a void. However suprised the Waka-danna sama looked, his blank face looked at mine. "Uhm.. That is..Somehow, the front desk's work is sustained by the Waka-danna sama, and I happened to experience that personally." T/N: Oyaji=usually the dude who owns the establishment, they normally cook and grill and stuff. Their waifus handle the cashiers. Also srsly these dudes know their fowl well, especially Akatsuki. I mean, chicken butt/parson's nose is full of that fatty cholesterol-filled goodness, as well as the skin wahhh now I want some of these too T__T P154 I was muttering my embarassing thoughts as my greasy sweat overflowed. That busy time has been pardoned already... speaking of, when the grilled skewers were done, I ate them hungrily. Ah, even the cartilage tastes good. "Akatsuki... It's unfortunate to have experienced those troubles, wasn't it?" "Ehrmm.. yeah." Waka-danna sama seemed to have gotten quiet, and I was so embarassed I couldn't say anything. I drank the sake bit by bit. "Well, anyways.. Waka-danna sama is awesome though. It's because while planning activities and managing Tenjin-ya, you were also said to be assigned to the internal affairs of Kimon. You were also looking after anything that troubles the Odanna-sama's fiancee. If it was me I couldn't handle it. I already find it hard just taking care of the ogre kids." While Chiaki-san was talking, the topic shifted to Aoi. "Ah, ahahaha. I wasn't looking after Aoi-san, I just let her do what she wanted, I think that's the right thing to do.. And because Aoi-san is a dependable person, it came to the extent that she helped me. Even now, with the souvenir products that Tenjin-ya asked Dr. Saraku to make, she's still doing her best to help with it, it seems... She's really awesome." Waka-danna seemed to have remembered something, and silently laughed, before ordering another bottle of sake. That guy, isn't he a bit harsh... P155 "I don't normally work with Aoi-san so I don't understand but, she's somewhat special, that granddaughter of Shirou's." "Yes, that is, Aoi-san is an amazing person. Aoi-san's cooking. Say Akatsuki. Somehow in the beginning Akatsuki was harsh with Aoi-san, but now you're part of the Yugao gang, aren't you?" "Eh? No, uhm...." "Oh, you're pausing with your words, you're hesitating. You weren't objecting that time, Akatsuki.." "..." Someday, when you make fun of me again, I'll be prepared. But, I need to think how can I deal with this now... When these guys bring up that topic again after a while, I'll change to make quick and sleek comebacks. "Certainly I go eat Aoi's cooking since it's a great way to end the working day, but compared to me, O-ryo goes there to a greater extent, doesn't she? To think that she tried killing Aoi before!" "Ah, ahaha. For sure, O-ryo san has now become less snappy and harsh... She goes to Yugao and pesters Aoi-san a lot. After that Kasuga-san also goes a lot to Yugao too." After that, instantly, it seems that Waka-danna sama remembered a lot of things about O-ryo and Kasuga. "Speaking of Kasuga-san, until now she still calls O-ryo as O-ryo sama? Even though she has already lost the position of Waka-Okami she still calls her as such." P156 "It's because Kasuga likes O-ryo. It's because ever since Kasuga started working in Tenjin-ya, she always bothered O-ryo san to look after her because she doesn't know anything." "Really, is that so? Isn't Kasuga-san and Chiaki relatives?" "Uhm, yes, yes we are..." Good, the topic has changed smoothly. Being tipsy, Waka-danna sama and Chiaki-san started talking about Kasuga and O-ryo. I was relieved, and added an order of thighs and chicken meatloaf from Oyaji. I really love meatloaf... "Oh, right, Chiaki-san, aren't you about to say something about that Kasuga?" When I asked him about it, Chiaki-san's face got all stiff for a moment. It was weird, for that person to have that face. But immediately after that, his usual sloppy face went back. "Ah, it's probably due to tomorrow's stuff." "Tomorrow?" "Tomorrow, we have to go back home. Also, it's something important." Oh, it's true, because they were going back home, he didn't lie to the girls when he was invited. But it's weird how he said it. Could it be that he doesn't want to go back home? P157 "Isn't Waka-danna sama going back to Orio-ya?" "What, why?" "But that's what going home means, right? When you don't have a village to go back to. Don't you have an older brother?" Waka-danna sama only waved his hands in front of him, with regards to Chiaki-san's unsophisticated question.

“No, no, that, uhm.. Right now it's a bother to go home. Right, Akatsuki?" "Why is the conversation swayed to me?" When it comes to a home, I have no such place. I have been born and raised in Utsushiyo, my only living relative is in there right now, my younger sister... "That much- How is my nose stupid?" In an instant, the drunk and wasted middle-aged Tengu nearby started making a racket, and he hit me with a hot sake bottle by mistake. "..." What the heck is this? As I was staring fixatedly, I got lost in time. While looking at the Tengu who got caught in the moment, my former boss Hatori-san, the current head receptionist of our rival inn, and previously when the Tengus became violent in the front desk I recalled the memories, and I got angry. I wanted to tear out all of the feathers of the middle-aged Tengu, but Waka-danna sama and Chiaki-san P158 pacified me "Woah, woah there, Akatsuki", and nevertheless I peacefully settled down. I went back to drinking in desperation. When the other sempai noticed it they just start talking. It’s mainly due to Hatori-san. A lot of things happened, and the night grew late.

"Tch, I drank too much. Waka-danna sama is too tough..." Upon returning to the males' dorms, while my drunk head was spinning around, I entered the men's baths. I splashed on water to wash off the liquor smell, then opened the sliding doors to my room and burst inside, and collapsed on the futon that I kept lying around. My room is at the top floor of the males' dorms. As the head receptionist I was given my own flat, and I wasn't roommates with anyone. Ah, the cool breeze feels great. I went and opened the veranda's door, and I looked at Kakuriyo's faintly darkened evening sky. "Hoo-hoo. It's the hoot of the underworld's night owl." "Hmm.. what?" From the veranda a single owl feather flew inside, and somehow plopped down, and I went inside the room again. "What is this.. A letter for me?" It was a momiji-patterned stationery. I haven't received a letter for a long time. P159 A red stamp was attached, this was exclusively used by the underworld's postal service that goes between Utsushiyo and Kakuriyo. The sender is... "Suzuran" In one breath, I got sobered up. This was my younger sister, Suzuran's letter. I stood up and pulled out a pair of scissors, and cut the seal.

"Akatsuki-niisan, it has been a long time. Are you busy everyday? I'm worried about niisan, don't work too hard and neglect taking care of your health. Are you eating nutritious food? Are you sleeping enough?"

What the, her opening was only about her worries. Don't worry Suzuran, about your brother. That detestable Shirou's granddaughter's food, I eat those everyday and get healthier. It's full of nutrients as well as delicious. I'm not miserable.

"Akatsuki-niisan may be blunt and crude, but he's really very sweet, are you on good terms with Aoi-san right now? Did I guess that right?" P160 "What the heck." That woman Suzuran. I don't understand why she's on good terms with Aoi, but for sure, she's saying nice things about her because they bonded during the time she stayed here. My sister by blood, she forsees just about everything.

"While I was taking care of Shirou-san's tombstone, I was also looking after the businesses of the people in Utsushiyo. When the Ayakashi living here come and wreck Shirou-san's tombstone, I grow into a larger body, you know? Everybody flees, when they see my Jorougumo** form."

"Oh, goodness, so that's it..." Even I was, when she powerfully threw me out of Tenjin-ya, her powers were quite strong...

"I love niisan, who works his best as a receptionist at Tenjin-ya. But please, don't be too excessive. Take some time to rest. Because niisan dislikes taking a break. You also dislike having fun with girls every now and then."

"Stop it. Leave me alone." T/N: So while Akatsuki is a spider demon- a tsuchigumo=土蜘蛛 that burrows underground like a tarantula, his sister Suzuran is an orb weaver spider demon, a jorougumo=女郎蜘蛛 that hangs on trees. No wonder Akatsuki's mini-form looks so pudgy and cute gwahahaha especially the cute skull on his abdomen. Try searching for that image, when Suzuran beat the crap out of him and he got weak AF wahahaha poor bean P161 "Suzuran always thinks of niisan during the dawn**. Please take care."

After reading the letter, I suddenly laughed at my younger sister's noisy wordings. The letter you sent had composure, as such, from where you are, you're also in good health. While protecting the tombstone of Shirou, whom you love. "..." Instantly, from the edges I saw a reddish ray of light, and as I opened the sliding screen, I looked at the early morning sky. Oh, I get it... The wonderful early morning sky. She said dawn, as it was my name. "Today... That's it. I'll write back Suzuran a very casual letter." Since she has left Kakuriyo, I'll write up everything that has happened in here since then. Also, while by tired body already had its rest, it's fine to do my best at work again. T/N: Akatsuki's name is literally "daybreak", not like them Orochimaru peeps lol

End of Intermission 2, Volume 6. Previous - Chapter 4. Next - Chapter 5

References:

Wonderful site for the youkai references

Other stuff I used to do this: Kodansha Kanji Learner’s Dictionary (you can buy here, I’m not sponsored btw). I was about to buy the older edition but then the newer one came out 2013 so I bought that instead. Worth buying since I was able to find nearly all of the words I needed just by stroke pattern alone.

Merriam-Webster's Japanese-English Dictionary (the red-covered 1996 version is apparently out of print right now). This is what I have been using for a very long time, I bought it when I was still a fetus (yes I am old so what lol), and after so many years, when compared to newer editions, I still prefer this one since its entirety is Japanese-English, the English to Japanese gloss are just 16 pages tops, so you get more Japanese words for your buck. But that’s just my opinion, maybe other people prefer the Jap-En x En-Jap IDEK.

Basic online dictionary, Jisho. Knowledge of verb conjugations  and other words are necessary since not all have entries.

If you can read Japanese, you can buy the whole set in Amazon Japan, they’re shipping worldwide now, I think.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Non-Sequential [Ch. 20]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 2,600

Chapter 19

Y/N was in Steve’s suite, sitting at the breakfast nook with her knees hugging her chest.

She was wearing one of Steve’s hoodies and sweatpants, both adorably baggy on her body. They smelled like him, a comfort she had missed. She was surprised he had even brought them on the run like this.

Steve was watching her carefully, but patiently. His chin was resting in his hand. But his eyes were what she was staring at. They looked so sad and concerned. It was starting to make her feel guilty.

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. “Steve, I’m fine.”

He watched her another few seconds before sighing, “Y/N, we both know you’re not fine.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze now.

“I’ve tried to be as patient as I can. The last thing I want to do is push you,” Steve said gently. “But you just had an anxiety attack. Those men shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. But I know it was more than just being touched that set you off.”

Y/N’s bottom lip started to tremble at what he was hinting at.

Steve shifted in his chair. She could tell he wanted to touch her, comfort her, but he didn’t want to set her off again. So, he kept his hands to himself.

“Y/N, Bucky may have – he told me what happened…to you.”

Her eyes shot to his.

She’d be having a very tense conversation with Bucky Barnes very soon.

“And?” Y/N asked through clenched teeth.

Steve rubbed his face. “I just want to help you.”

“Well, there’s nothing you can do, Steve!” She snapped back.

His face twisted in hurt and leaned back in his chair. But he told himself not to take it personally. Bucky said she wasn't talking to anyone. It wasn’t just him.

Then, out of nowhere, Y/N’s trembling bottom lift was joined by silent tears. She quickly wiped them away, as if there was any chance Steve couldn’t blatantly see that she was now crying.

But Steve couldn’t keep his distance any longer. He shot up from his side of the table and crouched in front of her. He took a risk, clutching her face softly and wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“I’m so sick of feeling weak,” Y/N sobbed. “I flinch anytime someone steps within five feet of me too quickly. I barely sleep. And every time I travel…I’m terrified that I’m going to end up there again.” She took in a shaky inhale, like she couldn’t breathe properly. “I just feel like I’m powerless. Nothing is in my control.”

Y/N didn’t even know how it happened, but somehow Steve had picked her up like she weighed nothing and was now cradling her in his lap, on his bed.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry,” Steve breathed into her hair.

And he just let her cry.

His grip on her never loosened. He knew there was nothing for him to do but just make sure she felt him there, that she didn’t have to do this alone.

Eventually, she pulled away and wiped away her tears before he got the chance.

“They broke me, Steve.” She finally admitted to both him and herself.

He looked at her with sheer agony.

“You want to fix us. But I don’t think there’s any fixing me,” Y/N confessed as she sniffed roughly and wiped away more tears.

Steve just let her words settle for a moment. When it came to Y/N and her feelings, he wasn’t one to speak before thinking.

“I realize, right now, it feels like things are never going to get better,” he finally spoke. Then he took in a deep breath. “But I know that they will.”

Except Y/N was already shaking her head, disagreeing with him. “Why are you so sure about it?” But her eyes were pleading, hoping that he had a true answer.

Steve took inhaled and brushed the wet pieces of hair, drowned by her tears, and moved them behind her ears and away from her face.

“You forget that you’re not the only person who’s seen the future…”

Y/N narrowed her gaze in confusion.

“I’ve seen the future version of you – the you that you haven’t become yet.” He gave her a sad smile and lightly gripped her chin. “So, I know you get through this… because I’ve seen it for myself.”

It was the best line of reasoning he could ever give her. He completely took away her ability to doubt herself or her recovery. Y/N knew she couldn’t fight the future that was already set in stone. And she’d learned that lesson over and over again the hard way.

“You’re stronger than you let yourself believe, Y/N.” Then he grasped her face, making sure she looked into his eyes and saw the truth and earnestness within them.

“Do you hear me? You’re not broken. You never have been and you never will be.”

He didn’t break his gaze until she nodded.

Y/N sighed, like her body was finally getting rid of all her self-doubt and self-hatred. Then she buried her face into Steve’s neck and held onto him tightly.

When the silence had become a comforting blanket over them, Y/N cleared her throat but didn’t move to look into Steve’s eyes.

“I should tell you what happened,” she muttered.

Steve’s whole body tensed at the concept.

“Y/N, you don’t have to.”

But she was already shaking her head. “No, I want – no, I need to. I can’t keep it all locked in my head anymore.”

So, Steve just nodded and listened.

Y/N told him everything. Well…everything she could remember. There were so many moments missing, times where Hydra had tortured her to unconsciousness or the pain was so unbearable that her mind brought her to another place.

Steve didn’t say a word through any of it, which was a challenge he hadn’t been prepared for. He had to control his emotions; showing his anger now was not going to do Y/N any good.

So, he just made sure he was listening to it all – not just the words, but the hidden emotion in her eyes or how her hands started shaking at certain parts. There was more that her body was trying to tell him.

Sharing it all clearly exhausted Y/N. Steve held onto her to some degree through his listening. Eventually, she had passed out wrapped in his arms.

Steve couldn’t seem to do the same. His mind was going over Y/N’s story again and again and again.

He had come to terms with the fact that he couldn’t always be there to protect Y/N. The time traveling made sure of that. But this was not something he was prepared to handle.

Yes, Bucky had told him his side of the story. But Y/N had the details and perspective that made Steve truly feeling sick.

There was a knock on the door. Steve hissed and cursed in his head, not wanting to wake Y/N up. But if there was someone at his door, it was important.

Steve managed to slowly and carefully move Y/N off his chest and made sure to tuck her back in under the covers. Then he tiptoed to the door. For how large he was, Steve was frighteningly graceful and stealthy.

He opened the door to find T’Challa with both Okoye and Ayo flanking him a step behind.

“Captain Rogers, I came as soon as I heard what had occurred,” his eyes were distressed and genuine.

But Steve was already holding up his hands, trying to stop him from continuing his apology.

“Please, T’Challa, there is no need to apologize. We’re foreigners here. They had every right to question our presence.”

“You are not foreigners. You are guests of the royal family. And I cannot tolerate such behavior. I was told Y/N…” The King stopped, not sure what to call Y/N’s panic attack without sounding patronizing or rude.

“She’s fine. She’s sleeping now,” Steve assured him.

“Know that the men are being dealt with and I can promise no one will treat you in such a manner again, for as long as you remain in Wakanda.”

Steve gripped his shoulder and nodded. “Thank you, T’Challa.” Then his head bowed slightly in shame. “Are the men OK? I’m sorry. I probably could’ve handled that a bit better.”

T’Challa couldn’t help but smirk. “They will live, but their egos are most certainly bruised. You have nothing to apologize for. You were simply protecting her.”

Steve nodded.

“Goodnight, Captain Rogers.”

He nodded again before closing the door quietly. 

Steve went back into his bedroom. But when he turned, his heart plummeted. His bed was no longer filled with his sleeping and exhausted girlfriend.

He knew when he lifted the covers, he’d find his sweatshirt and sweatpants that she had been wearing, left behind as she once again traveled through time.

Steve sighed shakily and rubbed his face with his hand.

—————————————

Bucky found Steve hours later in what Wakanda called their gym. But the majority of the machines were so ahead of their time and innovative that it didn’t look like any gym Steve and Bucky were familiar with.

However, Steve managed to find a bag to punch, like always.

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky called out loud enough for Steve to hear over his punches.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder to glare at him.

“What makes you so sure?” Steve almost growled.

Bucky walked over and stood behind the punching bag, holding it, and then nodded toward Steve, telling him to keep going.

He did as he was told, not pulling his punches.

“Because that was the only time I ever saw her,” Bucky told him.

Steve halted at his words. “What?”

“I’ve been searching through this broken mind of mine, making sure I wasn’t missing a memory. But I know that there wasn’t ever another time when she was there.”

“How can you be so sure?” Steve challenged.

The question made Bucky hang his head in shame. “Because I always remember her.” Then he cleared his throat awkwardly. “She was one of the only memories from my Winter Soldier days that gives me warmth instead of nightmares.”

Steve’s anger had disappeared now.

“What are you doin’ here, Buck?”

“I didn’t think you should be alone.”

“What do you think I usually do when she’s gone?”

Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know. Sit around, feelin’ sorry for yourself?”

Steve raised an eyebrow and glared at him.

“Wanna spar?” Bucky asked then, ignoring his glare.

Steve eyed the space where a limb should be. “You’re down an arm.”

Bucky smirked. “So, you’re in luck then. It’ll be closer to a fair fight.”

Steve knew that Bucky was trying to distract him. But quite honestly, it worked. Sparring took Steve’s mind a little bit away from worrying about Y/N. Plus, it got some serious aggression out of his system.

Ever since Y/N told him everything that Hydra had done to her, Steve was hoping someone would pick a fight with him. What he really wanted to do was go on the hunt and kill anyone or anything that was or had been Hydra. But that hadn’t been an option.

Steve was bent over, hands on his knees now and trying to catch his breath.

Bucky was right: there wasn’t a disadvantage just because he didn’t have his left arm. “You OK there, old man?” Bucky asked as he pat Steve on the back. “You’re just as old as I am, punk.”

Bucky snickered. “Yeah, but I’ve been in and out of cryo longer than you’ve been unfrozen. So, I’m probably younger than you.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Whatever makes you feel better.” He managed to stand up straight again and finally catch his breath. “I’m gonna call it a night and hit the showers.”

Bucky nodded in agreement.

“Hey,” Steve called after him. Bucky waited. “Thanks…for this.”

————————————- By the time Steve got out of the shower, the palace had significantly quieted. Most had gone to bed and the halls were no longer filled with echoing footsteps.

When he heard another knock on his door, he hoped it wasn’t Shuri taking her turn to come and apologize for the incident.

Steve looked down and swore under his breath for only having a towel wrapped around his waist. He didn’t want to keep them waiting and hurried to the door anways.

When he opened it, Y/N was waiting on the other side with an expression that Steve couldn’t immediately read.

“Y/N, thank god you–”

But his relief was cut short by Y/N slamming her lips onto his. She shoved him backward enough and slammed his door shut again without breaking the kiss.

They hadn’t slept together in forever. It felt like their relationship had been going in every direction but the right one. Intimacy felt like a far and foreign thing.

Until now.

Steve wasn’t complaining about Y/N’s sudden hunger, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t misreading any of it.

He pulled away, just enough to look into her dilated eyes.

“Y/N, what’s going on?”

She smirked at his concern. “You really wanna talk right now, Rogers?” Then her fingers found their way to the towel barely holding onto his waist.

Steve caught her wrist before she could pull it off. “I just want to make sure you’re OK.”

“I’m fine – promise. I just want you.” Then she kissed him quickly. This time, it was short and sweet. “Is that OK?” Her question was sincere.  

He nodded, suddenly becoming shy.

“OK.” Y/N agreed before gripping the towel and removing the one thing that was stopping Steve from being completely naked.

——

Steve rubbed Y/N’s shoulder. Her cheek was resting on his bare chest and her arm covering his abs.

There were candles lit around the room. When it was clear neither of them had any intention of sleeping anytime soon, Steve flitted around the room with a match. Actual lights felt like they would ruin the intimate bubble they were living in.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Y/N asked, amusement clear in her tone.

Steve both loved and hated that she could almost always hear his racing thoughts.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied.

Y/N sat up then, losing the coverage of naked bodies being press against one another.

“Steven Grant Rogers, you’ve never been one to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

He smiled at her accusation.

“Come on. Tell me.” Y/N begged as she scattered kissed across his muscular chest and then his shoulder and then the side of his neck.

“OK. OK.” He finally gave in.

“Have you ever slept with me… in a different time?”

Y/N tilted her head and finally pull the sheet up to her chest to find some modesty. “What do you mean?”

Steve blushed. Was he really about to ask this? “I mean, I know we never slept together when you visited me in the past. But what about future me?”

Then the room was filled with giggles.

Steve playfully glared her.

When Y/N finally got a hold of herself, she straddled Steve and leaned down to kiss him softly. “Don’t ask questions you don’t actually want to know the answers to, Steve.”

And for a moment, everything seemed to be back to normal. They were together. They were happy. Y/N seemed better, even if it were just for a bit.

---------------------------

Chapter 21

[synthes]

this is the antithesis of everything he’s come to believe about this childhood friend of his: the captive thoughts that imprison the innocence, seeking to replace it completely. in this syncopated life of a king, some aspects simply do not line up, especially when the apertures of his own life are rendered askew based on his own accords. one, as the monarch of the korean empire, he is to listen as his lips another curvature of a strict smile, polished so well he is none if not a puppet on strings. two, as the façade of the impromptu vigilantism, he is to embody the partiture of late night rendezvous with crimes that threaten his people, abraded with the weight of this becoming habitual. and three, as the man sculpted of justice, he is to behave albeit incognito, inscribing orders on the stones of this country’s standing.

yes, he opted out of being the front face of the politics… but doesn’t mean that he’s been staying out of the loop in spite of what his image might have left, impression-wise. he’s never blind, and as much as he values his connection with seunghan, he’s not above investigating this issue on his own. and yes, he’s aware that it might jeopardise his own crafted disguise as the airheaded king, but a part of him, regardless of how small, actually expects the answer to be a negative. hasn’t seunghan known better than to betray those poorer ones in the country, as the king’s friend in both childhood and military? well, maybe han has thought too highly of seunghan, or maybe seunghan has thought too simply of the king? either way, it matters naught when the end result is of seunghan protecting the rich, suppressing the poor. han has no ounce within him to forgive seunghan when that is the case.

and when seunghan’s arrival into this usual restaurant—the one the royal family has frequented so often since his grandfather’s days, for their service is impeccable, especially at providing privacy—is greeted by the waiters, he looks at the door of the vip room. the table is still empty except for the plates and cutleries. he smiles at seunghan again, still with the stiff curve that seunghan would know as a fake. no, he isn’t pleased, and he’s going to show that this time, hoping that the implicit message can strangle the truth out of seunghan somehow. when seunghan appears before him the way others, with many differing intents and purposes, would bow and sit, doing the exact sequential custom, han’s smile lingers, or at least a ghost of it. “i have ordered the food,” he informs, before signalling for the waitress to close the door. his royal guards are still standing by around the area to ensure his safety, but the chamber is good enough to keep secrets between the two.

“i believe i can guess what you like, mr. kang, since we’ve visited this place twice and your pattern… can be predictable,” he talks formally, unlike the way he would off duty. he is on duty today, with one specific goal in mind: to dig as much as he can about the dirty corporate practice, which seunghan’s company has conveniently covered. the image of the company might no longer be pristine, but the balance is not restored considering the light seunghan’s publicity managed to paint in front of the general public. and no, han isn’t about to feel too scared of endangering his own image to drag this matter into view. he’s not letting anyone stomp over his people, then staying quiet about it. and he doesn’t bother smiling anymore when the door is closed. with a nonchalant tone, he starts speaking as he pours the tea into seunghan’s glass first. “so, how has work been?”

ft. @mythvoiced​: kang seunghan.

[grisdidthis]

~that brand new hood smell~

The annoying thing about coming back to TS2 after not touching it for years is that you are going to do dumb shit like think “Hmm, I want a neighborhood that I can keep playing with and developing forever, because now I have the time to set one up all pretty-like, and when these Unusual Circumstances stop being a thing I’ll never manage to do that again. But I don’t want to start with a huge terrain that I’ll be busy decorating for months on end - let’s do it on a really tiny one!” 

And then you are done decorating and placing lots and... you’re done. There’s no more room to grow it further because yeah, you can bring some terrain back up, but you only have two minuscule squares of road. And most of the deco you’d like to place looks ridiculous and over-sized. So. What do.

Well, start over. Which is nice, actually, because I don’t have a backed up version of P42 1.0 that’s empty of sims, as the building and sim creation and decorating didn’t happen sequentially. With V2.0, the goal is to have all the infrastructure there before I start adding people. V1.0 is being kept for for storytelling and testing purposes, but the plan is to replace it completely eventually.

The terrain I’m using this time is Lugh Island, by betadefelippe at MTS. It’s a pain-in-the-ass-to-fill sized terrain, but that was sorted by sending two thirds of it to the bottom of the sea...

  ...and using psychosim’s hood water to cover it up. The result is a hood of manageable size that allows me to, should the urge to expand it strike, bring sections of the road back up to build moar stuff. 

Version 1.0 vs Version 2.0, the size difference! 

Spaaaaaaaaacceeeeee! And green areas, and a football field, and I didn’t have to use exclusively 1x1 lots! I’m not done with deco - there’ll be more stuff. I’m challenging myself to make this a place that would be marginally functional and self-sufficient in the event of a zombie apocalypse - so the greens have to come from somewhere, power has to be produced somehow, essential facilities and services must exist, and so on and so forth. This version will feature community lots, which the first one didn’t because, again, space. It’s going to be a frigging large undertaking to build all that, but since I have the OG P42 to fulfill all other parts of gameplay with, I’m good with the idea of this taking a long ass time.