#this took SO LONG to get to post jfc

[sylv-e-on]

@mx-werebat I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED YOUR ASK!! Sorry!! Here's the drawing though! If you want anything changed, just send in a ask!

[h4unted--h0use]

pt 7 of stranger things textposts! it's a silly one!

pt 6 - pt 8

[strmpt]

update: finished all of my assignments on tuesday night. forever. im actually really done with school. i graduate on saturday omggggggggg

im so fucking burnt out. it will probably be a while before im like. okay again lmfao at least as far as drawing. i miss it but wowzers. i dont have it in me.

but anyway rrraaaaaahhhhhhh graduation rraaaaahhhhhhhhh

[chroiduendo]

Kitsunave Red

main oc, part of the stories i write!

Red has a LOT of lore. lore of which branches out into like 5 different stories and characters. Bare with me while I try simplifying everything

Origins-

Red and his brother Dread were both born within a city / civilization called Galdur. Galdur is a very magical and technological city. They have an academy that teaches things like magic, warrior arts, science, called Galavairza Ulkrim. Within this academy, they were almost top of their classes. For darker reasons.

Underneath-

Their father Jax held dark intentions for Red and Dread. Their names were originally Jenix and Otium Zenarck. "Red and Dread" were merely codenames. Jax tested, and trained, and pushed the brothers to their very limits ever since they were able to walk. the name Zenarck was once a great, and powerful name. Jax intended to bring that name to the greatness it once had. to do this, he needed to use the brothers as vessels of destruction.

Their family history is deep, rich, and something Jax cared very little about. (Due to circumstances that i shall tell later) Otium started having.. visions.. he started seeing things. the deeper he got into these tests and the more magic he learned, he realized his true intentions. Otium truly started inhabiting the codename Dread.

The Uprising-

Of course.. this happened over MULTIPLE years. by the time Red and Dread escaped, they're about 15. Before that, Dread went dormant. trying to inhabit as much power as possible. once he thought it was enough. he released it in one powerful burst of energy. Fully manifesting a Tamaju (Sentient spirit animal of which is the manifestation of your magical abilities.) WAY earlier than he was supposed to. He used it to start a war, revolution.. freedom for him and his brother. Red stayed away from it as much as possible.

Bowl Of Confusion-

Dread managed to get people and students on his side. while the rest of everyone fought under Jax. At the beginning, there was no clear good or bad side. War fought on and the magic civilization tore itself apart. TamaZyjins and even Ulkrimages in training were fighting one another. Red didnt know what to do. It wasn't until Red saw one of Jax's Generals nearly KILL Dread when he decided where he stands. Red unlocked a power of which no one has ever seen. Wiped out many of Jax's army and nearly killed The General which attacked Dread. Dread had to stop Red with his own power before he got too dangerous. The Army started closing in on them. so Dread took Red to a secluded area. Where no one would find them.

An Act of Love-

Dread, for a little bit, went back to being Otium Zenarck. in order to give Red one final messaage.

"Dear brother, I regret to do this to you.. But there is one thing you mustn't forget. you are Red. you are a warrior, and a doctor. You are a Zenarck. No matter where the wind takes you, remember these values: Dream hard, fight always, run fast, be kind."

For Red's own safety. Dread wiped his memory, and sent him away as far as possible. Jax's army found Dread. and from then on, Dread has been forced, and cursed to work under Jax, as his apprentice. Persuaded and seduced by darkness, and the fallen god which he saw in his visions.

As for Red? to be continued.

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

[thatdeadaquarius]

Okay so-- i was reading some sagau posts and came across this one where the reader was an army vet and my brain just Did Its Thing--

So now I'm here to inflict this on to you--

Would guns be considered as catalysts. And would they only do Phys Damage.

Me reading this ask:

😶 ���� 🤨 �� 🧐 😰 🥲 😭😭😭 💀

STOP YOU'VE INFLICTED ME WITH PSYCHOLOGICAL DMG FROM THIS ASK 😭

(Also srry took so long to respond, when i didnt realize how short this was/was just sitting over here 😓)

^ For the sake of gun imagery being a lot/maybe staff might hate me for it,

we'll put this gay shit instead (i almost mispelled to "gay shot" lmao)

☆

Sun: Army Veteran Reader, Gender neutral Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: SHORT Headcanons

Stars: everybody bc i think itd be funny

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: gun stuff, mild violence, mild cursing & Trigger Warnings: Gun fun everywhere

THIS ASK HAS ME GIGGLING TO MYSELF LIKE A MANIAC

You're out here having a whole gun they let you take for off-base

And u ofc have a license so u can conceal carry

(idk how non-american gun laws work, but tbh ours are so fucked idk how they work here either, just that an army guy i knew once could have his gun when he got back home)

And ofc ur just paranoid enough (more like it just makes u feel safe)

That when u get yoinked into a portal to a silly little brightly colored gacha game fantasy world, the gun comes with 💀

Id like to add in my silly little "ur in a video game, so video game rules" AU version of genshin so:

The only other gun (ish) wielder (Mika) has unlimited bolts

Sooo I'd think your gun would be the same jfc lol

NO BC YOUD SCARE THE ACTUAL SHIT OUT OF EVERYONE IN UR VICINITY IN A BATTLE

BC GUNSHOTS ARE A DIFFERENT TYPE OF LOUD

When u first stumble into abyss monsters/hostile creatures of the realm, u nearly scare off a Lawlachurl bc every shot's like thunder to these bitches😭

So not only the monsters but the vision holders think u fucking summoned lightning

OMG THE BULLETS ARE SO FAST THEYD PROBABLY NOT SEE IT

ESP BC DISTRACTED BY GUNSHOT LOUDNESS

SO U AIM THIS LITTLE BLACK CROSSBOW (???) AND THINGS JUST DIE (OR GET RIDDLED WITH HOLES) WITH NO CLEAR ARROW STICKING OUT

STOPP- you're becoming a witchy god or smth to all of Teyvat bc it just looks like hella high level magic atp to them LMAOOO

Rumors of you get out of hand and say u just point or snap ur fingers and things get wounded/just die on the spot 💀

Oh another difference between Teyvatians seeing ur gun vs. crossbow (what they know)

Is that guns are wayyyy more destructive

Like an arrow would get shot but it'd bounce off of things like rock or wood or metal, maybe dent a little depending on how close

But a bullet goes thru that shit so easy, and leaves a whole little explosion behind, once again depending on range

(I once saw a Mythbusters episode? of them proving bullets would definitely go thru car doors, like movies lied to u, this is why drive-bys acc work like for gangs)

Lmao, the image of you in like full armor with a Teyvat made automatic gun after showing it to blacksmiths

Makes u just more convincing as a god, esp bc military training

(Ppl like Gorou and Kokomi begging for military tactics/training ur world has done)

...

....Ok.

I'll address it.

But only so u dont think im stupid later.

Yes, the Fatui have guns.

No, this not the same as having a glock LMAO

End of story.

(Also, urs runs on bullets, whereas the Fatui rely on magic/delusions to power theirs, plus they dont seem as fast or destructive as urs, more "explosions aimed at you" than real bullets)

Which,,, u leave the managing of ppl copying ur gun to ppl like the Qixing or smth, but make sure to give them advice on good gun laws if teyvat accidentally revolutionizes bc of ur advanced gun that anybody can wield (non-vision users)

Thats the best ive got abt that

Oh, also enjoy being praised as a War god now.

:)

☆

... dammit i had smth i was gonna tell u guys-

Uh what tf was it, it was important

OH

Next post is the Eldritch God Oneshot! Look out for it :) !!

☆

Safe Travels Kid,

💀♒️

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

[itsthatlake]

Reposting this directly on tumblr because YT deleted my channel.

In Our Bedroom After The War. Trash of the Count's Family animatic.

Consider supporting me via Ko-Fi! I would really appreciate it!

Extra stuff i wrote down while making this under the cut:

this took me so long you can literally see me get better at art from beginning to end lol

so many artistic liberties were taken here, you've no idea

confession time: i looked at references when doing the first drafts/storyboard(?) and then didn't for the line-art so yeah. rip lock's hair lock, i forgot about it until it was too late lmao

me, storyboarding this: SO. MANY. CHARACTERS????

@heart-select's Gashan design is so freaking cool I just had to use it, so kudos to them for that

me, repeatedly, while doing the line-art: oh god i still have to COLOR ALL THIS?!?!?!

how tf do you even draw wings?????

me, drawing the DHB: haha bones go brr me, drawing raon: you're damn lucky i love you

so glad I gave up on my original idea to color EVERYTHING jfc past me sure had high hopes

upset that I can't switch sheritt and DHB's order so they fit the lyrics bc I love sheritt too much to not draw her twice and also i'm not drawing a dragon bone head again thank you very much

ohn hasn't got ears. don't ask me why, i don't know either

on that note, i headcanon that ohn is the type to either look full human or full cat at all times, while hong (and lock too) like to have animal features while in human form whenever they can get away with it

added the kids' names to their piggybanks in korean bc why not

my blind ass made the subtitles far too big for my liking but i'm too tired to go and change everything now

this is also my first time doing an animation/video using only clip studio so i'm a little confused with why some things look like they do, but whatever

(Originally posted on 21/02/2023.)

anyways, enjoy!

[imaginarianisms]

Helaena loves Dreamfyre more than most things, on the same level as her children. Helaena and Dreamfyre are one and the same. A gentle giant and an excellent listener, she would never fail her like so many have, and the battlefield was no exception. Dreamfyre knew her heart, her soul, her strength, her innocence, her grief and her mourning. Ever since she went down to the Dragonpit that night in the darkness of her room where she dreamed of being bathed in blue flames, after visiting the royal sept to pray to the Stranger to take Daemon and riding her at twilight, she gave her that spark back, the will to fight, to live and keep moving forward. Dreamfyre may not have been a war dragon but she was formidable. Dismissing them both as an asset and a threat was a terrible mistake to make.

The skies were beginning to bleed red and orange with the quickly arriving sunset. Queen Helaena and her mount Dreamfyre on the banks of the Honeywine, with Horn Hill burning behind them bursting with blue and orange flame. Wincing at the sting of pain in her shoulder, a hand clad with gauntlet and finger armor of gold, gemstones and blue roses shifts between the space of her painted blue Valyrian Steel armor on her shoulder only to feel an wound of a grazed arrow from a Tarly archer at Horn Hill that could've sank deeper into her flesh if Dreamfyre had not intervened. The whispering waves and seagulls crying and flapping were the only sounds for a while. Breathing a great sigh of relief now that they were both alive and out of harm's way, Helaena dismounted from her furred, jeweled saddle with the three headed dragon of Targaryen emblazoned on it and made her way down the she-dragon's back with relative ease. Landing on the soft sandy beach in her riding boots, her armor clanked as she bolted over to check up on Dreamfyre, her blue cape and moonglow braids whipping behind her, her sword and daggers of Valyrian steel and her weirwood bow and arrows still attached to her, the scent of salt, sea, fire and blood filling her nose. When she reaches her, violet eyes widened as she notes a few arrows lodged in the she-dragon's side just below her wing: the Targaryen breastplate had protected her.

Helaena reached out, cupping Dreamfyre's spiked face in her hands and looked into her beautiful sapphire blue eyes, softly stroking and placing a little kiss on her snout. ❝𝐊𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚, 𝐢𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧 𝐬ȳ𝐳, 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐯ȳ𝐧 𝐬ȳ𝐫𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚, 𝐮𝐫𝐧ī𝐥ā. 𝐀𝐨 𝐠ō𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐬ȳ𝐫ī, Ē𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬.❞ Yes, I am fine, everything will be fine, you'll see. You did well, Dreamfyre. The Queen tries her best to reassure her despite her own faint wound, though... ❝𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝...❞ Helaena's violet gaze lingers on the arrows, four in total, a sigh leaving her lips, knowing all too well what she must do. ❝𝐔𝐦𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧.❞ Wait. Helaena commands, her hand brushing against her scaled cheek before she moves just behind her wing to the cluster of roomy saddlebags and pouches containing letters, files, books, a map, a notebook, potions, a glass candle for her own use, a knife, a travel bag, a change of clothes including a teal dress for more formal occasions where her destination at both Oldtown and Highgarden required it and a black cloak for stealth should she ever need it, shelter supplies, water, herbs, vials and reserve apples for proper dragoncare attached all along the colossal blue, purple and silver dragon's sides. Fetching a glass potion bottle of water and a bushel of herbs and ointments, Helaena beckons Dreamfyre to open her massive jaws to get a good drink, pouring it in before she takes a swig herself; everything between them was shared, for they were both one and the same. The Queen lie her supplies on the sand, Helaena places her hand on an arrow, deeply inhaling, knowing this procedure may cause Dreamfyre pain, but it had to be done. ❝Ē𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬, 𝐥𝐲𝐤𝐢𝐫ī.❞ Dreamfyre, be calm. Helaena told her, knowing this may hurt, it might not be too comforting even while she tries to be. Preparing to take the first arrow out, Helaena begins to sing in a sweet, haunting voice, the dragonsong she's heard countless times from the dragonkeepers, in the hopes of comforting Dreamfyre and herself through it all. ❝₊˚𝄞𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐩𝐲𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐬, 𝐭ī𝐤𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐨 𝐣𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐬, 𝐲𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐲𝐳 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚, ��𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐯ā𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐬,⋆𝄞❞ Then, she pulls out the arrow as quickly as she could, hissing as if she herself was feeling the pain, too.

Preparing to remove the second one out after rubbing ointment into the fresh wound and feeling hot dragon blood through her armored hands, Helaena continues singing, ❝₊˚𝄞𝐇𝐞𝐧 ñ𝐮𝐡ā 𝐞𝐥ē𝐧ī: 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐬, 𝐬𝐞 𝐠ē𝐥ȳ𝐧 𝐢𝐫ū𝐝𝐚𝐤𝐬, ā𝐧𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞,⋆𝄞❞ With a quick tug, the second arrow was removed. Two more to go. ❝₊˚𝄞𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐫𝐨 𝐮𝐝𝐫ȳ𝐬𝐬𝐢, 𝐞𝐳ī𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢, 𝐡ā𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧, 𝐚ō𝐭 𝐯ā𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐧,⋆𝄞❞ Gasping at the feeling of white hot pain immediately after she removed the third and applied ointment, Hela grit her teeth. One more. ❝₊˚𝄞𝐇𝐚𝐞 𝐦ē𝐫𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐫ū𝐥𝐢: 𝐬𝐞 𝐡ā𝐫𝐨𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢, 𝐩𝐫ū𝐦ȳ𝐬𝐚 𝐬ō𝐯ī𝐥𝐢, 𝐠𝐞𝐯ī 𝐝ā𝐞𝐫ī.⋆𝄞❞ Moving quickly, the Queen removed the last arrow, biting back a shriek of pain, even while knowing she had no other flesh wounds and then moved to place some ointment on her own grazed flesh wound, relieved that it was finally over. Helaena leaned into Dreamfyre once she was done, almost entirely spent. Oldtown was not too far away at the mouth of the Honeywine to the point where she could see the Hightower from here. She intended to restock her supplies at Oldtown and feed Dreamfyre in the morning then fly to Highgarden to discuss matters with the Tyrells, but for now, there would be no sudden movements, not unless absolutely necessary. Hela misses her children already and wants to go home now more than anything, but once her mission here was done, she had every intention of returning to the Red Keep. Hopefully this should all be done by either tomorrow night or the day after that at most; Dreamfyre was swift. Hel needed to get her tent set up waiting for her sworn sword Ser Desmond Jordayne to track her down, but at the moment, rest would do both of them good right now. The dragonrider leans in to kiss her snout. ❝𝐒ȳ𝐳 𝐫𝐢ñ𝐚, Ē𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬.❞ Good girl, Dreamfyre. Helaena praises, grateful that they're together, giving Dreamfyre her well deserved pets and scratches. ❝𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐯𝐨𝐬𝐞.❞ Thank you.

/ @imaginarianisms, helaena + dreamfyre

sent in : { NURSE }  for sender to nurse an injured receiver back to health while stranded, hoping to soon fly home. + for helaena & dreamfyre when they go out to fight during the dance bc that totally happened maybeeeee??

     DREAMFYRE did not expet to crash - land, as she was just forced to do. the town behind them was burning -- the smoke and flame dangerously high. what town, dreamfyre could not remember. but the archers below her had been prepared and came with weaponry that would have taken her down had she not redirected the flight path and land on a nearby small beach. it was abandoned by its fisherman in the onslaught of WAR, and the surrounding water dirtied with ashes, but it was SAFE, and that was the priority. it is only after landing that dreamfyre recognizes the pain of battle. she'd never been in a war before-- and yet, DREAMFYRE was still formidable in her own right.

     or so she THOUGHT, because now she was stranded, and so was helaena, still saddled on her back. she calls, a dragon's screech that was questioning. ( ARE YOU WELL ? ) echoes through the bond, and with an exhale, dreamfyre lays herself among the sand, attempting to make helaena's climb down to the earth easier. everything hurt, but she wanted nothing more than to fly HOME. ( we should GO soon. ) came another thought, a slow blink. 

[carbon-dated-gal]

My personal HCs of Jeaneil bestfriendism

Tws: mentions of human trafficking, sh, injuries, parent death (Mary).

(Also set in Raven!Neil AU)

•Nathaniel willingly participates in human trafficking after Mary's death, b'cuz fuck you. Living without any real destination had killed Mary's humanity and identity and he's not going to end up like her.

•Belonging to someone, meant having their brand on your back (literally) and that was going to be his saving.

•But for better for worse, ichirou was the one to pay millions of dollars for someone something like him

•ofc, this meant Nathan couldn't touch him but it also meant he would end up in the exact same place that his mum had died for

•but that was when she doubted his capabilities in exy but now that variable was taken out, no?

•By the time abram arrives at Evermore, Jean already had been living there for an year

•anyway, jean and Nathaniel meet when they were both 15 yrs old. And due them both being in hard rebellious phase, they take swings and jabs at each other cuz well...

•they were about the only ones who saw each other as equal instead being something either above or below them

•he Goes by his middle name w both Jean and kev

•Jean picks out all the bell peppers from his meal and Neil sneaks them onto Kev's plate who begrudgingly eats them

•Codependency, man. So much codependency. You'll never see one w/o the other

•sometimes when Nathaniel/abram (ur pick) sneaks them out, it starts raining and jean immediately hates it. But his partner catches a couple droplets into his hand and he flicks them onto jean, smiling like he had no demons waiting for him back home

•and jean thinks the rain might not be so bad.

•post-game interview and reporters are onto jean asking him one intrusive question after and jean just glares at them. Flat eyes and all.

•'Ram jumps in, and asks the reporter why their mum doesn't love them and maybe that's the reason they turned out like this in life— Kev pulls him away by his collar, apologising to the reporter

•they get into trouble for that ofc

•when Kevin begs jean to help him after riko breaks his hand, abram tries to stop him. He knows they'll have to pay the price but the look jean gives him is absolutely heartbreaking, "it's Kevin, abram. We have to help him."

•Nathaniel doesn't help. But hours later, when riko asks about Kev's whereabouts, he steals himself and refuses to answer.

•stitching each other while trying to make the other one keep their head down. With, Nathaniel's presence in the nest, jean finds keeping his opinion to himself... A bit harder than in canon.

•"why the actual fuck is that man wearing fucking jorts here?"

"I dunno, jean. They look kinda cool"

"I'm sorry, cool?"

•abram: "yk, that one time when you took a step towards the right with riko, you'd have reached him faster if you skipped on ahead to him—"

Jean, dead tired and barely even listening: "jfc, it's 2.30 in the morning go tf to sleep."

•abram was the one to snatch away the blades from jean. He hides them and cradles Jean's face in his hands, avoiding the bruises. That was the first time Nathaniel had seen a man that vulnerable and comfortable around him

•after kev leaves, Nathaniel tries to take over his job by swallowing the vegetables from Jean's plate. He promptly spat out that piece of broccoli.

I have more ofc, but I feel this post is becoming a bit too long so.

[msmarvelouswinchester]

If We Love Again

Summary: Whatever problems we had back then don’t exist anymore. It’s why we have this second chance, and we can’t throw it away. -Michelle Maddow

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Y/N (Reader)

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader

WC: 1942

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Post-canon where DEAN IS ALIVE, kinda sappy, body-shaming (not by the boys), hugs and kisses

Square Filled: Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong ( @taylorswiftbingo )

A/N: Alright. Alright. Hello you people! Jfc, how long has it been? A lot of things happened (personal matters and fandom problems too) so I took a break. Kind of gave up writing for a bit. Then two boys - Alex and Henry (RWRB fandom, I'm looking at you) got me back to writing! And of course I had to write for my baby, Dean Winchester!

And I've also lost my taglist. So sorry for not tagging anyone in this.

Completely unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine.

“What’re you doing here?” The usual routine of the bunker had been thrown off-kilter when Y/N had appeared, looking…frazzled. Maybe a tad smile but her eyes shone with unshed tears. And she was drenched to the bones and panting like she had run a mile to get to the bunker. The man welcomed her inside, saying, “Come in first, you are fucking wet.”

The words slipped and the man’s eyes widened, expecting a snobbish remark from her about the word and its placement in the sentence but soon enough, he frowned because Y/N didn't comment on the…apparent opportunity of turning the entire conversation inappropriate. Like she always did. But today, she wordlessly accepted the man’s gratuitous welcome and headed inside the old establishment.

Once at the end of the stairs, she said, rather whispered, “Hey Dean. Can you do me a favour? I need a hug.” If Dean didn't know what heaven looked like, he would have guessed he had ascended to heaven at Y/N’s request.

Dean, who had sprinted down the steps, looked at her and nodded, opening his arms. Y/N stepped into the hug and wrapped her arms around his torso, hands finding the nape of his neck. Dean’s hands had also instantly found their shelter around her body. They stayed in the position for a while. Y/N inhaled deeply quite a few times. The unforgettable scent of cinnamon and gunpowder hitting her and she let the tears fall as she let her guard down for the first time that night and Dean’s hold around her tightened. The sobs that left her, wrecked his heart. Each wail was like a dagger to his chest. He hated seeing her sad. He rested his chin on the top of her head, the familiar smell of her shampoo gave him whiplash as the memories of…everything queued up inside his head. But he still didn't know what had prompted her to show up at her place. “Y/N, sweetheart, can you look at me? I need you to look at me,” Dean murmured, “please.”

His voice washed over her and the sobbing turned into sniffles. She sniffled against the now wet, snot-covered spot on Dean’s tshirt before her red-rimmed, puffy eyes found his worried green ones. “‘M sorry,” she whimpered.

“Hey, shh, what're you sorry for? For ruining my shirt? Oh, I'll just bribe Sammy to do the laundry,” Dean grinned but the worry never left his eyes.

“I just—Dean, I'm sorry for…s-showing up tonight unannounced…I shouldn't have…what was I even thinkin’? Dean, I’ll—uh…see myself out.” Y/N said, and fidgeted in Dean’s grip but he was reluctant to let go. Not when she had just shown up a few minutes ago and broke down in his arms.

Dean said, “Stop, Y/N. Stop. It's alright. That's what best friends are for.” Nope, not letting you go this time.

“But…” Did you forget the part where we dated and broke up and vowed to never see each other again because it would break our hearts even more?

“No buts,” Dean said, as if he could read the thoughts in her head, “Whatever happened…happened. You were my best friend and you still are. If you need me, in a heartbeat, I'll be there for you. Do you understand that?” He glanced up, Jack if this is your doin’ because I pretty much dreamed about second chances last night then thanks, buddy.

Y/N nodded.

“Now let's go sit down. I'm gonna go find Sam and let him know you're here. And then we can go and kick some asses.” Dean gently guided her to his room in the bunker and sat her down on his bed, asking if she needed anything to drink, water or beer or anything to eat, knowing all they had was pie and a greasy two-days old burger in the freezer. They really needed to stock up their fridge more now they have started to live normal lives.

Y/N, though just asked for water.

Dean winked and said he would be back in a minute. And he was, with Sam in tow who had scooped her up in a giant hug. Oh, she had missed them.

“Hi, Sam. You look…different.” Y/N giggled at Sam in his formal clothes instead of the layers of plaid she was used to seeing on him. She had heard that the Winchesters had retired from hunting but seeing them bask in their post-retirement glory was astonishing.

“Yeah, had a makeover sorta, got myself a job and everything—”

“And a girlfriend,” Dean wiggled his brows and his brother blushed furiously. In between the conversation, Dean had handed Y/N a glass of water and sat down beside her on the bed.

She sipped on the water and hummed thoughtfully, “Who would have thought? Our little Sammy, all grown up!”

And for the first since her alarmingly sudden visit to the bunker, Y/N smiled.

“Oh shut up. Enough about me. Dean said something to me about kicking someone's asses. Do we have to bring out our hunting gear?” Y/N’s eyes widened at the question.

“No! Jesus, no guns. And no violence.” She warned the Winchesters.

“Can’t promise on the violence part, sweetheart!” Dean smirked. “So what happened?”

“Honestly. I think I'm good. It was a moment of…sadness but I'm oka—”

Dean cut her off, saying, “Y/N you were wailing. That was not nothing. Come on, tell us, we swear we'll be good.”

Y/N hesitated and Sam decided to put her out of her misery, “Whatever Dean says, if you don't feel comfortable in telling us. Don't tell.”

“Oh…” Dean sighed, “Yeah, I…I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. You seriously don't have to tell us, if you're not up for it.”

“It's just not that,” she swallowed hard. It should be easy to tell them, right? They were her best friends. She took a deep breath and said, “The guy, I am…or rather was dating—” She felt Dean tense up beside her and Sam side-eyed his brother but she continued “-well, he was an asshole. A dickhead. A fucking son of a bitch.”

Sam chuckled. “That's quite a description.”

“Yeah. So I applied for this job in NYC and well…I got it—” her heart soared in her chest as she watched the brothers’ faces split into a huge grin “-but this moron of my ex-boyfriend decided to throw my insecurities to my face because he didn't want me to go to NYC.”

Now looking back, Y/N didn't know why she was sad. She was angry. No, she was pissed because how dare a pathetic little man order her around about whether or not she should work in New York. “He was worried that I wasn't too pretty for the NYC girls, that I was too soft to survive in a big city like New York—”

This time Dean chuckled. Because Y/N wasn't soft, she was a hunter. Born into a hunter family only to give it all up because she wanted a quieter life. But she knew how to fight, how to wield a gun. And she was pretty. Too pretty and even after four years of breaking up, Dean’s heart still skipped a beat when she called his name, looked at his face and he was still enamoured by her very existence.

“So I told him that I would leave his sorry ass,” Y/N’s lips trembled, “and he said it was going to be the best thing because I wasn't worth enough for him to fight for because I…I am ‘too much’ and I…I don't put an effort into being the woman a man wants, no…needs. And in that moment, I got so sad, I needed to see you. Because I missed you guys so much. I missed this where no one judged me or at least didn't use to until…well, I…yeah. So, this is how I showed up here.”

“You're always welcome here, Y/N. And I'm sorry, things haven't been…good for a few years but don't think for a second we will judge you or not let you back into our lives,” Dean’s hands had snaked back around her waist, pulling her closer while she continued, “Well, he was kinda right. Don't you think? I talk too much. Sometimes I go on a ramble. I don't watch my diet—”

“That son of a bitch body-shamed you?” Dean was seething.

“Yeah. And he said, I was too much of a work to stay with. I have always been told that I'm too much of a work but it still hurts—”

Dean said, “Well the guy is an idiot. You aren't too much of a work, sweetheart.”

Y/N, this ain't gonna work. You want me. I want you but you don't want this hunting life while THIS hunting is my life. This relationship is going to be so much of a work and with Cain on the loose, I don't think I can put that much effort in this. Y/N gave Dean a soft smile, “I don't want to bring up old memories but you also said that, pretty much four years back.”

Sam’s mouth fell open. “What the hell, Dean?”

“W-I? I was under the influence of the mark, Y/N and you knew it. I pushed away so many people. Letting you go was my biggest mistake. And I regret it because I still fucking love yo—” Dean’s mouth snapped shut.

And for the second time, Sam exclaimed, “What the hell, Dean?”

“Yo–love…what?” Y/N whispered.

Dean turned towards his brother, “Sammy.”

“Yeah.” Sam quickly stepped out of the room.

“Y/N. Letting you go was my biggest mistake and never calling you up was my biggest regret. I should have called because I still need you. And now I have this life. You know I start a new job next week? It's a construction but yeah. And it got me thinkin’ about you. Yeah. I was thinking how I fucked us over and never got to tell you the truth. I never got over us, you. I…I never wanted you to go—”

“I remember very clearly you throwing me out of the bunker and telling me never to contact you again. You know what, showing up tonight was my bigges—”

“Son of a bitch, I can't believe I'm fucking doin’ this,” Dean murmured.

“Wha–” The rest of the question turned into a squeak and Dean’s lips crashed into her. And then the thoughts crashed into him. Fuck.

Dean immediately jumped back from her. “I'm so sor—”

“If you dare to say sorry for this, I am telling Sammy to shoot you in your dick, asshole,” Y/N panted, “Fucking come, kiss me, you moron!”

“You sure? You just had a breakup and…”

Y/N looked at Dean, “I know. But Dean, I had kept loving you all along and maybe by some, heaven’s grace—”

“Jack’s grace.”

“Who’s Jack?”

“God. Well, new God. Jack had been living with us…its a long story for another time.”

“Yeah so, by Jack’s grace, maybe it's my second chance at being with you. Loving you.” Dean’s breath hitched at her words, “Your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong.”

So he walked up to her, and pulled her into a loving kiss. It was soft, eager and…just like old times.

They separated but their foreheads touched as they panted for air. “Second chance?” Dean asked

Y/N nodded, “Second chance.”

He smiled, “This time I'll leave no stones unturned to make this work. Because Y/N, sweetheart, you are worth everything.”

Oh boy, I'm kinda rusty XD

Let me know your thoughts! Comments are highly appreciated!

[annakie]

Fixing The House: Part Fourteen A - In the Kitchen

Aka the (first part of the) FINAL CHAPTER.

Part One: I Do Not, In Fact, Have the Power

Part Two: Let’s Spend Lots of Money!

Part Three: All These Things That I’ve Done

Part Four: I Really Want to Stay At My House

A little interlude.

Part Five: Power Down

Part Six: You Will Leave Some Paint

Part Seven: Backwards to go Forwards

Part Eight: Master of Bathrooms

Part Nine: Within a Room, Somewhere

Part Ten: Rooms With No View

Part Eleven: Big Bang Room Part A and also Part B!

Part Twelve: We Can Make It On the Outside

Part Thirteen: Mauve Haze Symphony

Uhhh yeah sorry it's been like a month and a half since the last post. I have been VERY BUSY. Work. Travel. Dragon Age. All valid excuses, I promise!

But it's time to FINISH THIS because it would be terrible to get this close to the end and not finish. That's reserved for the tops of hall bathroom walls. :p

Y'all. It's time... finally... for the kitchen.

LET'S GOOOO!

As usual, starting in 2003. This is going to be the History Post.

The kitchen was probably always my least favorite part of my house. It's a long, narrow galley kitchen.

And oh boy, when I bought the house, the kitchen was in pretty bad shape.

Here I am with my realtor, Alvin, this might be the first time I saw the house, second at most.

Look under Alvin's foot. The linoleum does not meet in the middle, they started on the left and right to lay it down.

The wallpaper. The original-to-the-house 1963 countertop, and cabinets.

That fridge smelled so bad, IDK how old it was. I called it the ebolafridge. I literally had it written into the purchasing contract that they had to haul it away at their expense.

The sink was enamel and had several chips in it.

You can see here that the countertop was worn through down to the wood in spots. The cabinets, also original to the house.

The dishwasher did not feel like it would actually get the dishes any cleaner.

And the wallpaper... jfc the wallpaper. We're about to get to that.

There was one thing about the kitchen I liked, and that alone may have sealed my decision to buy the house when everything else about it made me feel like running.

The copper backsplash. Probably also original to the house but... it was copper. I at least had something to start with that I liked.

I could deal.

I started after buying the house but before I moved in by tearing up the floor, down to the concrete, through three layers of linoleum, by myself.

I am pretty positive that nobody bothered to ever sweep the floor, especially not between laying down the new flooring.

I laid down new linoleum... mostly. The hall flooring was in better condition so I left it "For now" and never got back to tearing it up.

Then there was the wallpaper.

Three layers of it. You can see two of them here. The bottom one, the third, was neon green and yellow flowers, probably installed in 1963 with the house. I don't have any good pictures of that.

I replaced the screens over the only lighting in the room from yellowed plastic to a grate that I somehow managed to cut exactly right myself the first time.

Brighter bulbs and little blocking the light made it better, but it was still always dark in there with lights that were recessed more than a foot in these wells.

That lightswitch was so, so gross but also like spackled on there with three layers of caulk.

The wallpaper took forever to pull down. Honestly I would have just painted over it if I'd have known how bad it would be. I used all The Products, and still spent many, many hours peeling off that fucking wallpaper. None of it peeled off easily.

this part right here was the WORST. The one big wall that was highly visible. I probably spent twenty hours on this wall and it was still like halfway done.

Forgive me if I told this story already somewhere.

My parents would come up occasionally in those first few years and spend a weekend helping me with home improvements. One of the early weekends we did dozens of things and then this fucking wall was the last thing on the list to tackle.

My parents and I stood there and just stared at the wall at the end of a very long two days, hours more of wallpaper scraping staring us in the face.

Then my dad turned to me and said "I have a plan, but you might hate it."

"Tell me Dad," I said, pretty desperate to never have to peel down wallpaper ever again.

"Just a big sheet of wall panel. We can try to match it to the panel in the dining room or the cabinets."

"I love this plan. Huge fan of the plan. Let's do that."

So we measured the wall, hopped in the car and went to Home Depot and like an hour later the wall from hell instead looked like this.

Before the panel went up, I took a sharpie and wrote on the wall something like "I'm sorry, I just can't spend another minute tearing down this stupid wallpaper. Good luck!" and signed and dated it.

So yeah here you can see I have a new fridge. It was literally the cheapest fridge which fit that I could find at the Sears Scratch & Dent outlet.

The walls were painted... and the floor there is still concrete. I ran out of the linoleum for awhile, but it did get finished eventually.

I took off every cabinet door and drawer, sanded the old varnish off of them. Then sanded down all the cabinets themselves at least somewhat deep, and painted them all a complementary green to the lighter wall green. I scrubbed every inch of the place down as much as I could, polishing up the copper backsplash and copper range hood as much as I could. I bought the cheapest dishwasher, it that was a combined Christmas/Birthday present from my parents/grandma for that year. Worth it.

It still wasn't beautiful, but it was livable.

Those red and green pattern dishes were hand-me-downs from my recently deceased grandparents, which came along with their dining room furniture, the guest bed, an old rocking recliner.

Lately some of my friends and me have been handing down all our old stuff to our friend Marcus & Laura's three daughters, all of whom are early to mid 20's and just starting out. It came at just the right time for me, I have so much to give them especially now since the renovation. Looking at all these pictures the last few months of making these posts have really just reminded me about how lucky I have been to have been handed down things which, maybe they weren't my taste, and now many of them have been replaced or passed on, but I was blessed. And it feels great to be able to bless the three young woman who I consider practically nieces in a similar way.

Anyway.

Here, judge my 2004 food choices.

Oh hey, another thing I loved about the kitchen was the pantry. A really good sized pantry with an awesome copper lazy susan. (Really all of the range hood, backsplash and lazy susan were just copper colored steel or something... but they look great.

I did really hate the pantry door, which you had to know just how to open or else it'd come off the tracks.

It was as good as I could afford to make it after awhile, though there was still stuff like this going on...

Gross.

One other small but impactful change Dad & I made was the knobs and handles in the kitchen.

On the tops, we kept the original 60's knobs but spray painted them a fresh coat of copper spray paint. I'd re-spray them every couple of years.

I had been CONSTANTLY snagging my pockets on the same pulls on the cabinets and drawers on the bottom, so those got replaced with smooth handles which were impossible to snag on. Looked okay. Not great, but better.

---

So this was a really great day in 2009.

New countertops day! I was so damn hapy!

The old, gross stuff got taken out. The pipes under the sink were redone and a new garbage disposal went in that actually WORKED!

*Note: It sometimes worked. TBH it was super temperamental and probably DIDN'T work for about 1/3rd of the time it was in. But at least the pipes didn't clog nearly as much, and shutoff valves were installed down there.

Leela and Jim approved!

BEAUTIFUL, right? I picked all that out myself.

The laminate countertop was literally the cheapest Home Depot had but I actually really liked it, it had flecks of coppery-colored bits in it, also it was, you know, just clean. I honestly loved that sink every day it was installed.

So much better, right? It felt a lot more fresh and clean. A huge improvement over the original.

The new floors helped a lot, too!

So yeah, this was the kitchen from 2009 until 2024, and it was just the world's Okayest Kitchen. I wasn't ashamed of it anymore, unlike the bathrooms.

There were still some pretty big problems. The 1960's drawers were constantly falling off their tracks, wouldn't open all the way, the one next to the fridge had the bottom fall out and couldn't be repaired so I just lost a drawer there entirely. And the pantry door was so ugly, hard to clean, always falling off the track as well.

The cheapo dishwasher died around 2017 and stayed dead for about 2 years until I got a new one in 2019 in time for Ange's visit. I mentioned the garbage disposal.

Another quirk was that the fridge couldn't open the entire way. It would just hit the opposite counter when it was 2/3rds open so you really did NOT want things getting shoved to the far back corner unless you wanted to practice becoming a contortionist.

Oh, and the cabinet doors on the bottom of the kitchen just did not seem to want to stay closed. I'd walk in all the time to partially opened cabinet doors and I'd occasionally bang my leg on them. Re-closing them became such a multi-times daily occurrence that I stopped even noticing I was doing it.

The stove/oven is electric. At some point 5 or 6 years ago I replaced all the burners because some stopped working, but those were easy. The oven itself runs 50 degrees hot. I ruined a lot of meals before I really figured that out, now I just know that i the recipe says 400...that means set it for 350. I put an analog oven thermometer inside that confirms it.

OK guys... there's the history up until this summer.

Big changes are coming. :D

[discowingneckline]

reasons i hate rhato pt1

this pertains to v1 #1, so expect more at some point when i can stomach looking at it again. this is exactly what the title says. hey, do you like rhato? great, fuck off and don't read something that is going to upset you. i don't care what your good opinions are of this. the run sucks, and it deprives almost every other character of their personality for the sake of jason's character.

why does jason not have clothes on? why is his stupid little cute jacket not on him? why didn’t anyone give him underwear? if there’s clothes for kory, there must be clothes for him! if kory took off his clothes, it makes little sense why she wouldn’t put some on him where he isn’t injured at the very least. 

why didn’t kory keep his gun farther away from jason, and also why wouldn’t a seasoned hero at the very least not take the bullets out of his gun like be so for real. she clearly doesn’t recognize him here (for some fucking reason)

why does kory look at jason and think of her and dick post sexy times?? why do you fucking think the first thing on her mind for memory is that shit? fucking weirdo.

also why is kory so white-looking? fucking weirdo. why is she stick thin?

i don’t like the relationship here of dick and jason. i am a jason todd is a nice good robin. like yeah a bit of attitude but um…ew

also why is kory here in the first place and living like this? she is a woman of class, thank you very much.

if kory had “male clothes” the entire time, back to a previous point, why didn’t she put them on jason (since she already took off his clothes to treat him) or at least keep them near jason for when he would wake up? it’s giving that scott lobdell just wanted excuses to have jason nude for like all of this issue and to dumb kory down to be super sexual. 

also kory’s proportions are so weird and off. and also, let’s be so for real, they took away her curves and like body fat? like she was super strong, buff, hot before man. what the fuck.

“they appear to be the correct size” which one? the robin suit? the nightwing suit? which nightwing suit? also this is giving, based on previous panels, “jason has to face his horrible brother’s suit and take his mantle, but this time (super edgy shit) he makes it his own!” get a fucking grip.

the amount of jason calling kory “orange” when he knows her name and her title!! it’s giving fucking racist behavior. and it’s just rude. he literally got called out about it a second ago and he made this huge apology, just to do the same shit repeatedly again. speaking of that, comparing her to something from national geographic is giving…dehumanization. 

where did kory get these clothes? how long has she been where she is? what the fuck. also, not that kory wouldn’t wear stuff like that, but?? i don’t see why she has so many changes of clothes that are almost carbon copies of the same shit. 

what is that flashback she has with nightwing and arsenal? first off, what the hell is that roy? second off, why is kory’s body shaped like that? also this suit of her’s sucks. worst i’ve seen ever. my irl friend also complained about nightwing’s shoulders and the overall anatomy of the art. said it was shit.

why is jason handling guns and weapons with no shirt on? why are they so set on not giving this man clothes?

“she obviously loved dick grayson—almost as intently as i hated him” be so fucking for real right now. get a fucking grip. is this where the bulk of “bad sibling dick grayson” comes from for jason todd fics? because lmao be so for real.

what is jason’s anatomy this page specifically? what the fuck is it?

oh my fucking god. why does kory go to kiss jason?? in the water?? at night?? at fucking all? like kory isn’t shy with her sexuality, but jfc. you’re trying to tell me after she was so hung up about nightwing (??) that she just throws herself to whatever man is available? be so for real. she has fucking standards, and jason todd will never meet them. it’s giving that someone (scott lobdell) had a thing for a character (kory) and was using a self-insert (jason todd) to get that. 

also what is with all of her thigh gaps?? give my princess her body back please holy shit.

…i read more, and what the hell is: “it is one of the ways my people assimilate language, knowledge—you said you wanted to talk, i only assumed…” kory was literally talking to him for several days in english. why the fuck would she kiss him? again, makes no sense. you’re making a very intelligent woman fucking stupid so jason can seem cool and smart and desired. it’s gross. 

…why does kory’s power look like that? um…ew.

“sometimes they are crazed vigilantes pretending to love us like a son” be so fucking for real. as though jason and bruce didn’t have a decent relationship at the bare minimum. also?? what the literal fuck is “pretending to love us like a son” bruce does love jason, and of course dick as well. perhaps he isn’t always the best at showing it, but he does. and if this is another jab about bruce not killing the joker? literally get off of it. that is not fair for jason to say shit like that. it goes against everything bruce has ever stood for since he was a child, and it’s insane to expect bruce to do whatever jason wants when jason is going out killing a ton of people and overall just being a piece of shit.

why is jason talking about friendship and romance when it pertains to kory?? be so fucking for real. i do not believe for a second that kory would get with jason after their talk if jason truly talked to her about everything (because she would know that she was/is in love with dick, and i don’t take her for being someone who would throw herself at his brother). 

…i wonder what “qurac” would possibly be a stand in for. also why would roy harper just be sitting and taking that? also why is it just jason who is going out to get roy and not, oh i don’t know?? his fucking family??

if you guys want to see the panels from the points i gave, just let me know and i will reblog with them included.

[chilewithcarnage]

hi,

first off, you are awesome and i love following you. amazing taste and an absolute great person all around. want and hope better things for you and your family bc y'all deserve!

i think the past few weeks, but moreso lately, this site is just the blog version of a03 where it centers white gay (maybe lesbian?) fandom weirdos who are freaks for all the wrong reasons.

like i don't remember the circumstance of karp(?) leaving and who was the owner before the current trash rn, but at the very least even if this site was predominately white, i can still find corners of black or other poc blogger's content to enjoy and it's getting harder to do that!!

also bc i'm isolated, i'm obvs horny, but now nsfw blogs are being nuked even though there's an existing mature content filter so like what's the post (besides attacking trans women rmfe). like it feels like the acceptable freaky things are like fucking i*cest, i just want to see black women make out and twerk jfc

(also on larger scale there's an uptick of ~faux~ i*cest p0rn i.e step family shit and like whyyyyyy????) i just want hot women (of color) being all over each other is getting harder to find or filter through or isn't behind a paywall :((

i'm just a wall of anxiety and dread bc of everything going on w/ the genocides, covid denial, yt ppl in general, and this staff so idk where to turn with this anger and frustration

sorry to vent but i don't have anyone to talk to. ilu and wishing your sis a safe work trip and that she gets to have a couple days to enjoy herself at least

hey friend, starting off thank you so much for the kind words and well wishes my sis did manage to have safe trip she's been back for about a week now. now I get where you're coming from completely and I don't mind being a listening ear for you, I'm honestly sorry that took so long for me to respond to you. It is in fact frustrating the way that tides have turned in terms of the culture and populace of tumblr and how it's run and who's running it. I've been on here for 11 years and idk if I can say the current wave of things is the lower point this site has ever been at but it's pretty damn close. I was so confident that yahoo wouldn't have ended up bagging this place but look where we're at now, missing 75% of our original user base, 💖💙🤍💙💖♀️ getting deleted left and right. it's a shit show indeed. don't even get me started on the lack of black and brown oriented nsfw content and the rise of the proshit ppl.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hot Chocolate, Ice Skates, and Prince Charming

Heya! I’ve just been quietly reading and rereading all your Roman angst and I hope you’re not tired of writing it because I have an idea 😅 How about some christmas Roman angst? I can’t think of anything specific but there’s that XD Keep up the writing and don’t feel pressured to post the fic on Christmas or to even take the request ❤️- lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Hello hello! :) Absolutely adore your work, and I hope you're having a wonderful holiday! I have come with a request for whenever you're up to it. If you would, it would be amazing to see your take on a Christmas-y themed fic with a focus on disabled Virgil. I had a hankering for Hallmark styled Christmas movies lately and I was just thinking about how fun it would be in your style. Hope that's ok! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: some ableist language

Pairings: prinxiety (i am ashamed at how long it took me to fucking remember what their ship name is jfc)

Word Count: 10,080

At some point, Virgil will work out the exact science of how much to say 'yes' to friends who desperately want to do holiday-spirit-festive-stuff because they're his friends and he loves being there to watch them love things, but he also does not enjoy dying of either pain or sensory overload. This year doesn't look to be one of those years where he does better than others, though, if being surrounded by screaming children and off-key grainy speakers belting Mariah Carey for the past Too Fucking Long is any indication. He ducks his head to avoid yet another flying something-or-other as he huddles in on himself, making sure his cane doesn't get knocked over for the fourth time in as many minutes. "Excuse me?" He turns, half expecting someone selling cotton candy or those little memorabilia keychains, and— Oh. Hello. *** Virgil, fed up with the holiday spirit, meets Roman, a man who seems far too good to be true for such an auspicious time of year. From apology hot chocolate to late-night Christmas lights, maybe this year the magic will linger just a little bit longer.

 

At some point, Virgil will work out the exact science of how much to say 'yes' to friends who desperately want to do holiday-spirit-festive-stuff because they're his friends and he loves being there to watch them love things, but he also does not enjoy dying of either pain or sensory overload. This year doesn't look to be one of those years where he does better than others, though, if being surrounded by screaming children and off-key grainy speakers belting Mariah Carey for the past Too Fucking Long is any indication. He ducks his head to avoid yet another flying something-or-other as he huddles in on himself, making sure his cane doesn't get knocked over for the fourth time in as many minutes.

May your days be merry and bright indeed.

He sighs, squinting fruitlessly through the crowd to maybe catch sight of one of his friends' coats or something, before realizing that there's absolutely no way he's going to be able to do that when he can't even see the skating rink over the crowd gathered around the outside. And sure, he could stand, but is he going to? No. So he may as well just continue sitting here until one of them remembers that yeah, he's here too, and wades through the horde to his little bench oasis.

"Excuse me?"

He turns, half expecting someone selling cotton candy or those little memorabilia keychains, and—

Oh.

Hello.

"Sorry," the actual fucking model in front of him says, smiling sheepishly, "is the other half of this bench taken?"

"No," Virgil says way too quickly, but can you fucking blame him? The prettiest human that's ever existed just asked if he could sit down next to him. "Bench, uh—bench is very much not taken, you can—you can sit."

"Thanks."

Well, this might have backfired, because now very-pretty-attractive person is sitting right next to Virgil. And he definitely knows how to deal with this. Yeah, this is fine. This is totally fine. He just has to not keep sneaking glances at his perfectly coiffed hair…or his jawline…or the freckle right on the end of his nose…

"Is there something on my face?"

Shit. Fuck. "No, no, you're fine—" really fucking fine, dude— "sorry, I, uh, didn't mean to stare."

He chuckles. Not fair. Not fair at all. "It's okay, honey, no harm done."

Abort fucking mission, abort fucking mission, Very Pretty Person just called me a pet name, shit fuck holy shit what the fuck am I supposed to do?

He's spared the humiliation of verbal floundering when he chuckles again and holds out his hand. "Roman."

"Virgil." Please God, I hope my hand isn't too sweaty. "Nice, uh, nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Roman nods his chin toward the skating rink. "Taking a break?"

"Oh, I, uh, I'm not really big into ice skating."

"You've dragged yourself all the way to the madhouse and you're not going inside?"

"My friends," he says lamely, waving toward the entrance, "they really wanted to come, so I tagged along."

Roman hums, tilting his head. "Not very nice of them to leave you behind, is it?"

Shut up, he hisses at his heart which starts to pulse threateningly towards his throat, it's fine. This is fine. "It's fine. I don't really mind."

"Yes, being surrounded by extremely loud children and sitting right underneath a speaker," Roman says skeptically, "I'm sure."

"Well, I—uh—"

Roman sighs. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. It's none of my business, I know."

It totally could be your business though. Like, I would have exactly zero problems if you decided it was your business.

"I'll go with you if you want."

Virgil shakes himself out of his thoughts in time to see Roman smiling softly at him and he needs to figure out what the fuck he just said real fast before he gets lost in it. "Sorry, what?"

"If you want to go skate," Roman repeats, "I know it's hard if you're by yourself, especially in a crowd this big, so I'd be happy to come with if you wanted."

His heart sinks and the cane at his side grows a little colder. He forces himself to smile and shakes his head. "Sorry, I, uh, really am not into skating."

"Come on," Roman coaxes, holding his hand out, "I promise I'll be nice."

This is torture. This is literal actual torture and Virgil is about to sink into this fucking bench because the most attractive person he's ever fucking laid eyes on is asking him to skate and he can't and he's going to have to say no and then Roman might leave and they won't get a chance to talk anymore or he'll find out why Virgil doesn't want to skate and then it might turn out that he's not actually as sweet and charming as he's acting right now and—

Virgil's eyes slide to his cane and back up to Roman's. Roman follows his gaze, a cute little wrinkle between his brows, before his eyes widen in realization and his mouth drops open.

"O-oh," he stammers, "sorry, I thought—I didn't—"

"It's fine," Virgil mutters, picking up his cane and hunching over it.

"There's—well, I suppose there's no coming back from that." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roman's cheeks turn a little pinker—so cute—and scratch the back of his head. "Can I buy you a hot chocolate to make up for it?"

Virgil's head snaps around. He stares at Roman. "What?"

"As an apology. I'll even make sure they put extra whipped cream on it."

He vaguely hears himself say something about sprinkles and then Roman's grinning again and sliding from the bench and vanishing into the crowd. Part of Virgil wants to immediately get up and run after him, but his hands are still wrapped around his cane and all he can do is hope to God that Roman wasn't some hallucination or fantasy and there really is a cute guy going to but him apology hot chocolate.

Five minutes pass.

Ten.

Fifteen.

No sign of Roman.

Virgil checks his phone and sees nothing—no text messages from his friends, no alarm, nothing except the battery he really should have charged before leaving the house and he now has to use extremely sparingly. The sinking feeling in his stomach is back; maybe Roman just wanted a quick and easy exit away from the pathetic whelp with the cane, or maybe he realized that there was something better he could be doing. He wouldn't blame him, not really. He might call him an ableist asshole the next time—if they ever saw each other again, but—

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," he hears breathlessly, "the line was miles long and then they couldn't find the sprinkles."

He turns, hardly daring to believe it, when he sees a massive cup of still-steaming hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream and red and green sprinkles held out toward him. He pries one of his hands from his cane and takes it, looking between it and Roman with disbelief. Roman smiles at him again and nods to the cup.

"Is that enough whip-cream?"

"Yeah," Virgil says faintly, "that's—I don't think I've ever seen this much before."

"Well, you deserve it," Roman says like an asshole because now Virgil has to down like half of it in one go to prevent him from seeing how fucking red he gets at that one little comment and he nearly burns his tongue off for it. "Whoa, whoa! Slow down, no one's gonna take it away from you, don't burn your mouth!"

"Too late."

Roman just chuckles again, like he's fond, like that's something they do, and he leans back against the bench. "Suit yourself, honey."

And now he has to do it again. Honestly.

You could not pay Virgil to remember what all they talk about. He doesn't know. He's too busy memorizing the crooked half-smile Roman has when he's vaguely amused by something, or the cute wrinkle that forms when he's thinking or concerned, or the way he keeps reaching out to almost touch Virgil's shoulder before changing his mind last-minute and leaning on the bench instead. He wants to reach back for him so bad but he's trying to hold the hot chocolate and his cane at the same time. His cheeks hurt from smiling and blushing and apparently Roman is really good at saying little things to make that worse. Does he remember what they are? No, because he's not paying attention to shit like that.

They're laughing at something—again, who knows what—when Roman checks his phone and sighs.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. But it was really nice to meet you and sit with you."

"You, uh, you too."

Roman grins and stands. "Happy Holidays, Virgil," he says, and disappears into the crowd.

"You too," he says, way too late, just as he realizes that he didn't even ask for Roman's number.

He looks down at the dregs of the hot chocolate and finds himself smiling slightly.

Maybe being dragged out here wasn't the worst thing after all.

2.

He truly doesn't expect to see Roman ever again, and he may have moped around the house for a few hours upon realizing that, so it takes him by surprise when he ends up sitting in the corner of some mall as his friends go last-minute shopping and a familiar voice calls out.

"Virgil?"

He almost breaks his neck with how fast he turns around. "Roman?"

Roman grins at him, a bag over his arm, before nodding to the other chair at the table. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Yes! I mean, no. I mean—please sit down."

"That's on me, I should've asked it in a less-annoying-to-answer way." He sets the bag on the floor and tucks his hands into his pockets. "Can I be really honest with you?"

"Sure."

"I wanted to run back to the bench the second I left because I realized I didn't ask you for your number. So, can I do that now before I forget again?"

"Yes," he says, pulling his phone out before Roman's even finished speaking, "yes, absolutely, go ahead. I wanted to do the same thing."

They exchange numbers and Virgil's in the middle of totally not putting a bunch of cute things after Roman's name because he has standards and a reputation—but come on, his last name is literally 'Prince,' what the fuck is he supposed to do?—when Roman calls his name and he looks up, surprised. Roman laughs and holds up his phone.

"Can I take a photo? For your contact?"

"Uh—um—sure?"

"Not that I'd forget what your pretty face looks like," Roman says as he takes a picture in the middle of Virgil blushing like an idiot, "but in case I want a reminder."

This. This is what he didn't remember. That Roman is apparently really good at being charming—literally Prince Charming, this is fake, this isn't real, people like Roman don't actually exist, where are the camera crews and reality show hosts?

"Alright, now that's out of the way…" Roman trails off when he notices that Virgil's still staring at the table, his cheeks bright red. "Hey, you okay?"

"I—uh—you—"

He chuckles. "Still stunnable, I see? Sorry, honey, am I being mean?"

"Okay, well, it's hard to tell how sincere you're being when you're still doing it, so—"

Roman throws his head back and laughs, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, you got me."

"Rude."

"You're still smiling at me, though."

"Shut up."

"Your smile is cute."

"Shut up," he mumbles again, trying to hide his face in his sleeves. Unfortunately, that means he's not balancing his cane against the table anymore and it falls to the ground with a loud clatter. A few people walking by turn to look. He goes to pick it back up only to realize Roman's already doing it, leaning it back against the table. "Oh, uh, thanks."

"Of course." He inclines his head toward some of the stores nearby. "You here by yourself?"

"No. Friends scrambling for last-minute stuff."

Roman makes a noise. "I'm not getting a fantastic impression of these friends of yours who drag you places and then leave you."

"They're not so bad, they know to pick places with easy seating so I can take breaks when I need them. Besides, they know better than to take me in certain places."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Apparently there's only so many times I can call out fancy soaps for smelling like ass before I get politely asked to leave, but—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Roman says, sitting forward with a grin, "you gotta tell me everything now, you can't just leave it there."

And so, Virgil dutifully recounts the story of the time some of his friends decided a fun way to spend the afternoon was to go into the fancy soap and other scented things shop to 'browse,' when in reality they were just going to see what the most obscure and specific scent was and mock it mercilessly. They managed to find everything from 'Bourbon-soaked Cotton' to 'Miasma,' which of course prompted Virgil to point out that they really didn't think that one through because miasma was the 'bad air' that supposedly caused things like the Black Death and you probably didn't want a candle called 'Miasma' in your house, which logically led to them all pretending to be plague doctors by wrapping up the complimentary cardboard box/bag things and holding them in front of their faces like plague doctor masks and acting like they'd discovered some new herbs to treat the nefarious diseases with.

Needless to say, they were politely asked to never come back ever again, and they definitely kept pretending to be plague doctors as they were 'escorted from the premises.'

Roman's fully collapsed back into the chair, shaking with laughter, by the time Virgil finishes telling the story. He has to stop and just look at him, because of course Prince Charming is really fucking pretty when he's laughing, and then he looks up at Virgil with that soft smile again and he can literally feel himself melting inside his hoodie.

"Well," he says through the last of the laughter, "I can see why they asked you not to come back."

"Yeah, well…" He shrugs. "Plus, if my friends actually want to get any shopping done, they decided it's best if I don't tag along so they can actually, you know, focus."

"Can't say I blame them, then. I'd be distracted by you too."

"Roman!"

"Okay, okay, I'm done, I promise." He grins. "I think your face might explode, it's so damn red."

'Yeah, well, whose fault is that?"

Roman holds a hand over his chest and bows halfway, like he's actually out of some period drama and wearing a fancy knight's costume instead of a button-down coat and scarf. "My deepest apologies, Virgil."

"Yeah, yeah, knock it off," Virgil grumbles as he chuckles.

They sit there in the quiet for a few more moments as a few groups of kids run by. The lights strung up around the pillars and various levels of the mall sparkle with that faux-snow-wet look as Christmas carols play over the speakers, Virgil taps his fingers absentmindedly to the beat, watching an ad play inside one of the stores.

"Okay, I have a potentially rude question that you can totally tell me to shut up for."

Part of Virgil immediately raises its hackles, but he turns to look at him. "Okay?"

Roman nods to his cane. "Where did you get your cane? My great-aunt uses one and she's been complaining about how boring her current one is for like, as long as I can remember, and yours is sick as hell."

It is pretty cool—it has this purple holo body and Virgil's stuck all sorts of stickers to it and the base is really nice and it's got an adjustable length too. "I can text you the name of the place?"

"Yeah, that'd be great, thank you."

He sends it off and puts his phone on the table. "That wasn't a rude question, by the way. That was fine."

Roman's shoulders visibly slump. "Okay, great, I wasn't—I really wasn't sure. I don't—sorry."

Virgil's eyes widen slightly as Roman starts to…fluster?

"I don't know a lot of people who use mobility aids on the regular and so I don't…really know what sort of things are appropriate to ask."

"You're fine," he says, still a little bemused, "you're doing great."

But then Roman smiles at him all soft again and he has to look away and cough before he starts getting all red again.

"Besides, you're right. My cane is sick as hell and it deserves compliments."

"It's definitely the coolest one I've ever seen. How did you get the stickers to stay so well?"

"There's this Etsy seller who specifically made them to go on mobility aids—she has forearm crutches and hers are decked out with cool shit, so I bought a couple for mine just to try them out and then, well, I couldn't stop."

"Could you send me the name of that place too? My aunt might want some."

"Sure, yeah, give me a moment to find it."

As he looks through his phone, he catches sight of Roman watching him. Not in a creepy way, he's just doing that fond thing where he's got his head slightly tilted and he's still smiling like he's just happy to be here with Virgil and he needs to stop thinking about it right now before his ears start going bright red too.

"There. Sent."

"Thanks, Virgil." He checks his phone just to make sure he's gotten it before he stands up. "I'd love to sit here all day with you, but I do have to run."

"Oh. Okay."

"I'll text you, okay? If you're not—I mean, if you don't have plans, I'd really like to see you again."

"Yeah," he says, grinning like an idiot, "I'd like that too."

He's still staring off in the direction Roman went when his friends come to tell him that they may have gotten kicked out of another store.

3.

Prince Charming: I have another potentially rude question.

Virgil tries not to grin when he sees Roman's text. He knows better than that. Absolutely not.

He fails.

Me: what's up

Prince Charming: How far of a walk is too long of a walk before you need a break?

Me: walking is actually fine it's standing that makes me want to die

Me: i mean i'm not trying to hike a mountain

Prince Charming: No, I suppose that makes sense.

Me: why?

Prince Charming: One of my favorite things to do this time of year is go to the Tadford Park Conservatory. They have this really cool thing they do to get all festive and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? They have places to sit on the way and it's basically a greenhouse so we don't need to lug big heavy coats around.

Virgil quickly looks up 'Tadford Park Conservatory' and scrolls through the pictures of the plants and decorations. Honestly, it looks stunning. He's about to say as much when he gets another text,

Prince Charming: And I have a car so I could pick you up and we could drive.

Me: that sounds really amazing when do you want to go?

Prince Charming: Are you free tomorrow?

Me: sure am

Prince Charming: Can I pick you up at 9?

Me: absolutely see you then

Prince Charming: Perfect :)

Only after Virgil's put the phone down and gone back to what he was doing does he realize he has no idea whether this is supposed to be a date or not.

Is it? No, Roman would've said. Right? That seems like something you'd say. You'd be like: 'hey, I want to do this thing with you as a date.' Or 'hey, I want to take you out and I thought we could do this.' Something like that. Something that puts a big and flashy 'this is a date' sign on it. Roman didn't do that. And Roman seems like the person who would do that. Right? Maybe Virgil should ask. That was reasonable, to ask if something was a dare. But then what if Roman hadn't intended for it to be a date? Then it would get really awkward and Virgil would have to backtrack and then Roman might offer to make it a date out of pity and then it would be even more awkward and Virgil wouldn't actually get to enjoy anything they did because he'd be too busy thinking about how awkward it was and then it would be ruined and—

No. He's just gonna act like he's going to do something fun with a friend. He does that all the time.

Just so happens that Roman's Roman.

It's gonna be fine.

So fine.

He really is so fine—okay, that's enough of that.

He definitely stresses over what he's wearing for way too long before he gets a knock on his door and he just throws a coat over it before he can overthink it and goes to meet Roman. Roman opens his car door for him like he's really some prince that crawled out of a storybook and it doesn't even feel like he's doing it out of pity, like he'd do it even if Virgil didn't have a cane, which is another thing to fret about as Roman drives them to the conservatory. As they walk inside, Virgil goes fumbling for his wallet only for Roman to reveal that he's already gotten their tickets, scanning the code at the front and going over to the coat closet.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, it's on me." Roman hangs up his coat and huffs a laugh when he sees the way Virgil's staring at him. "What's that for?"

"No, really, I saw those ticket prices, there's no way—"

"My mom has a membership, we basically got in for free. It's okay, honey, you don't have to worry about it."

Virgil mumbles something about pet names being unfair as Roman chuckles and they start walking toward the doors. A wave of warm air washes over them as they step through and Virgil's eyes widen as he looks around at the plants and decorations hanging from the ceiling. It's like he's stepped into some alternate reality, trees curling up and over him in a green ceiling as vibrant flowers bloom impossibly bright, catching the glistening light as the giant ornaments overhead twist and turn in the faint breeze. The faint smell of freshly watered plants mixes with the pine and gingerbread from the lobby as they start walking and he can't pay attention to where he's going because every few seconds, he sees something else incredible. Bright blue flowers. A tree with bark like peeling parchment. A crawling vine straight out of a fairytale book. Roman keeps him as much on the path and out of the crowd as possible and he can't even spare the attention to thank him.

"It's beautiful," he manages as they near another door, "it's so pretty, Roman."

"Yes, it is."

"If you're looking at me while you say that, I swear to God—" Roman pushes open another door and they start into a room filled with flowering trees— "holy shit."

Roman chuckles and guides them to a bench underneath one of them. "Do you want to sit for a second or keep going?"

"How close is the next bench after this one?"

"Two rooms down, I think."

"I can make it until there."

They walk through a room of twisting and turning jungle trees, ferns and other smaller plants hiding between the leaves. They pass a pond of koi fish swimming underneath a massive tree. The room with the bench has a long, clear pool in its center, flanked by paths through what look to be walls of moss and other ferns, a waterfall at the far end. Roman walks them carefully over one of the paths to a bench tucked into a little alcove, through which they can see the pool and the bright green foliage on the other side. Virgil sits down, still spellbound at the room.

"I'd ask if you were enjoying yourself," comes Roman's voice, "but I think I know the answer."

"It's like I've been transported to some fantasy realm, this is so cool. How have I never known this existed?"

"A lot of people don't come here. Which is good because I'm selfish and I really like when there's not a lot of crowds." Roman sits back, one leg slung over the other. "But—I don't know why. Maybe it's because they think plants are boring or something."

"They're fucking wrong."

He chuckles. "Yeah, I think so too. I'm glad you like it."

"Okay, it's my turn to ask a potentially rude question."

"Shoot."

"Why here? I mean, it's gorgeous, and the decorations really help, but it's not—a conservatory isn't really what I think of when I think of festive stuff."

Roman sighs. Ripples from the waterfall spread out along the pool's surface. "I don't know, really. I think it's just because holidays are really hectic for me and this place…never really feels like that. It's always sort of like this, calm, serene. Quiet. I think…I think I just really like that."

Virgil turns at the wistful note in Roman's voice, watching him send one of those soft smiles at the pool. The greenery around them almost seems to curve, like the petals of a flower around its center. Roman…fits here, like he really is some prince that even nature itself can't help but adore.

…fuck, he's so far gone.

He loses track of time as they sit there, just enjoying the still quiet of the room. The ferns have their own smell, soft and sweet, that mixes with the crisp dampness of the water as some misters turn on to water the plants. He holds his hand out in front of one, just for a second, watching the droplets catch on his hand and sparkle as he turns them in the light. Roman's side presses against his after a while and he finds himself lost slightly to the solid comfort of it. And then, well, then that's all he thinks about for a while.

At least until his stomach growls and ruins the moment.

"Come on," Roman chuckles, "the food's not far from here."

The cafe bustles with energy after being in that quiet room for so long, and Virgil quickly finds a table to sit at while Roman goes and gets the food. He does have to slightly threaten Roman into letting him pay for their lunch, but Roman concedes after a while and goes to stand in line. He pulls out his phone to send the few pictures he remembered to take to the group chat, when suddenly—

"Shame on you, young man!"

Virgil startles so badly that he almost drops his phone. He looks up to see a stern older woman glaring at him, hands on her hips. "Uh—"

"How dare you?" she says again, wagging her finger at him. "You go and find whoever you stole that from and give it back right this instant!"

"I don't—what—what are you talking about?"

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" She points at his cane. "That does not belong to you! You're old enough to know better, especially to steal something like that, your parents would be so disappointed in you!"

Oh. Oh, fuck, it's one of these. Disgust and embarrassment crawl up his throat as a few people at the surrounding tables start to look over. He swallows. "Actually, that is mine."

The woman scoffs. "What do you think, I was born yesterday?"

"That is my cane," he says, voice a bit firmer. "I bought it with my money, I use it for my disability. I didn't steal it. It's my cane."

She looks him up and down over the rim of her glasses. "You? You expect me to believe a young person like you uses a cane? What on earth could you possibly need a cane for?"

And really, he should be used to it by now, he's had ableist assholes like this yelling at him for actual years, he shouldn't be this upset over it. But goddamnit, this day was going well. He was having a good time. And now someone is telling him his disability doesn't exist and he should be ashamed for using a mobility aid and he can feel his eyes starting to water even as he struggles for words.

"Excuse me."

Roman. He looks up to see Roman setting a tray with their food on the table, his hand coming to rest on Virgil's shoulder.

"Would you like to explain why you're bothering someone you don't know?"

The woman splutters. "I—well, I—"

"It is none of your business what someone else does to take care of themselves," Roman says, cutting her off firmly, "you do not get to make assumptions about someone else's life and act as though you know the truth. No one would be so rude as to insist you don't need glasses, would they?"

"People your age don't need canes!"

"And people your age should know to treat people better." Roman gives her a look that's so profoundly disappointed that he can see a few people wince in sympathy. "This time of year is supposed to be about sharing compassion and kindness. I hope for your sake you learn that this season."

He turns his back pointedly and the woman shuffles off without another word.

"Are you okay?" Roman asks, his voice so soft and worried that it almost gives Virgil whiplash. "I'm so sorry that happened."

"It's not your fault," he mumbles, "and…thank you."

"You don't need to thank me for being a decent person, honey."

"Yeah, well…" Roman's hand is still on his shoulder and he dares to lean into it a little. "Still. Thanks."

Roman still looks a little worried but he pushes Virgil's food towards him. "Here. Eat."

"Thanks."

Roman doesn't sit across from him. He sits next to him and after a moment, lets his leg rest against Virgil's. Virgil almost chokes on his sandwich but quickly shakes his head when Roman looks up, concerned.

"Is this alright?"

"Yeah, it's…more than alright." Virgil smiles. "You're really great, Roman."

Nice one, asshole.

"So are you." After a moment, his smile widens. "When we're finished, do you want to go see the desert room? There's a bench in there too."

"Cactuses?"

"I think it's technically cacti, but yes."

"Don't make me look up grammar while I'm eating."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

4.

Virgil gets another text the night before he's supposed to get lunch with Roman. He peers at his phone, sitting up from his horrible position on the couch.

Prince Charming: Hey, I'm sorry to do this so last minute, but my boss really wants me to come in in the morning tomorrow. I don't think I'll be able to come pick you up to go to the place.

Me: is there public that can get me there?

Prince Charming: You'd have to walk a fair ways and it's not like it's nice outside right now.

Virgil glances at the snowstorm outside and winces at the thought of all the ice. He's about to figure out a way to propose a rain check—or snow check—without upsetting either of them when his phone buzzes again.

Prince Charming: I mean, if it's not too much of an ask, I could always pick you up before I go into work and you could come with me? I don't think it'd be longer than a few hours at the most and then we could just go straight there afterwards.

Me: what do you mean come to work with you?

Prince Charming: I could pick you up and drive us both to the arena. There are the offices and stuff upstairs where you could sit and work or do something until I'm done then we could go?

Me: would your boss care that there's just some random person with you?

Prince Charming: You're not just some random person, Virgil. And no, he won't care.

Virgil's too caught up in the fact that Roman said he's not just some random person to really think about it when he sends back a 'yes,' nor did he really read the part where Roman mentioned an arena.

But sure enough, that's what they pull up to the next morning and Virgil's left blinking at the giant sign that says 'Stadium Entrance' as they get out of the car. He glances at Roman, who looks truly nonplussed as he leads the way to the door. He waves at the person at the front—Virgil waves too on instinct—and nods toward the elevator.

"I told them I was bringing someone, you can go on up and find somewhere to sit, if you want. I can come with too if you'd rather?"

"You, uh, you can go. I think I can find something."

"If anyone tries to give you shit, just say you're with me, okay?"

He huffs a laugh. "What, are you some kind of famous person?"

Roman laughs too, but it comes out a bit too forced. "Something like that."

And before he can ask what the fuck that means, Roman's walking off down another hallway and Virgil just shrugs and goes to find somewhere to sit. The elevator takes him up to something that looks almost like an office and he wanders into an open room, sitting down and shooting off a text to let Roman know where he is. He gets a quick acknowledgment and that he'll let him know when he's done. He switches over to the thing he'd been looking at in the car and loses himself quickly in the mindless scroll of the Internet.

He's not sure how much time passes before he glances around for an outlet to charge his phone. He drags a chair over to the corner and plugs in the charger, looking around as he waits for the little beep that lets him know it's working. There's a set of screens on the far wall, each showing a different camera, he presumes. One of them looks out at a loading dock, one of them shows a skating rink where someone's training, one of them shows another empty rink, and the last one has another door—probably a secondary exit of some kind. He shrugs and looks back at his phone.

"Excuse me?"

He looks up to see a man with glasses and a big coffee mug with cat whiskers peering through the door. "Uh, hi?"

"Are you supposed to be in here?"

"I, um, I'm with Roman? He said I could find somewhere up here to sit?"

"Oh, you must be Virgil!" Virgil blinks as the man grins and comes over to offer his hand. "I'm Patton, nice to meet you."

"Hi, Patton. Uh—you are? Sorry."

"No, it's fine, you're all good. I'm one of the event coordinators for the arena. Roman talks about you all the time, I was wondering if we'd ever get to meet you."

"Yeah, I, uh…nice to meet you too." Virgil shuffles a bit. "You, uh, have you worked with Roman for long?"

"Sort of—I don't work with Roman directly, but I see him when he's booked here. They've decided to train here this year, which is exciting, but he's so busy all the time." Patton grins, crossing his arms. "But I guess you know that, huh?"

"Yeah, I—wait, you—" he frowns. "What do you mean 'booked here?'"

"For a show or a competition or something." Patton leans down, muttering like they're sharing a secret. "Between you and me, I don't blame you for sitting up here. It gets cold in the rinks, doesn't it?"

"Sorry—can we go back another step?" Virgil shakes his head. "What do you mean, for a show or competition?"

Patton frowns. "For the season."

"What season? Season of what?"

He frowns for another second, before something like exasperation makes him sigh. "Did Roman tell you what he does?"

"No. Not even a little bit."

Patton sighs again and nods to the screens. "That's him, on the camera there."

Virgil turns to look. The only person on the screens is the one skating. Wait—

"That's Roman?"

"Roman Prince, reigning champion," Patton says, coming up behind him as Virgil stares at Roman training on the ice, "I'm not that surprised he didn't tell you, he's surprisingly private about his off-stage life."

Roman skates. Roman is a figure skater. Roman competes at a professional level as a skater. Roman is the fucking reigning champion?

He hears Patton say something about getting back to work but if he needs anything, let him know. He must respond—he hopes it wasn't too rude—but he's too focused on the way Roman is literally fucking dancing on the ice right now. He looks like he's at the Olympics. Shit, has Roman been to the Olympics? Why didn't Roman tell him he skates for a living? Why is he here while Roman is training? And what the fuck did Patton mean about Roman talking about him all the time?

He completely fucking forgets about his phone as he watches Roman skate. Every so often someone else skates up to him—his trainer, probably, even though Roman called him his boss. Shit, Roman really didn't want him to know about this, did he? Is he gonna be mad that Virgil's watching him?

He's really fucking good.

It feels like no time at all before Roman's disappearing from the frame and then he gets a text that he's almost done, coming up to find him, and Virgil's still staring at the screen trying to fit the pieces together that Roman's a professional skater who talks about him to the people he works with.

He doesn't quite manage that by the time Roman's pushing the door open with a breathless smile, his hair slightly messy, and his cheeks glowing from the exercise.

"Hey, sorry about that, but I'm all done, we can…"

He trails off when he notices Virgil staring at the screens, smile fading a bit.

"Right," he says, mostly to himself, "forgot about those."

"You, uh," Virgil mumbles, "so you skate?"

"Yeah. I skate."

There's a moment. Someone down the hall opens a door.

"I'm sure you have questions," Roman says finally, "but can I answer them in the car?"

"Yeah, sure."

Roman's quiet as they go back downstairs, waving to the front desk person again. They get in the car and start driving. Virgil bites his tongue for as long as he can before they finally stop at a red light and he musters his courage.

"Why didn't you tell me you skate?"

He hears Roman sigh. "I didn't mean to keep it a secret from you, it's just…I didn't know how you'd react."

"Did you think I wouldn't think it was a real job, or something?"

"What? No, no, I just—I didn't know if you watched skating or followed it at all or—or if you'd know who I am, or something like that." The light turns green and Roman turns onto the next road. "And then…well, it's not like I know what you do for a living either."

"I'm a systems engineer."

"Oh. That's cool."

"Thanks."

They drive for a few more minutes.

"Patton said you're quiet about your private life," he says, like an asshole, and he wants to take it back as soon as it comes out but Roman's already answering.

"Yeah, well, I'm not famous famous like some people are, but I'm…people know me. And it's not like I want people poking into what I do when I'm not being Roman Prince on the ice. Plus, especially with it being the holidays…" He trails off and sighs again. "Sorry, I don't want to bring the mood down."

"You're not bringing the mood down, you're just talking. You can tell me if you want to."

They stop at another red light and Roman looks at him. Really looks at him, like he's trying to figure out if Virgil's telling the truth. Which he is, he totally is, and he hopes Roman can see that. He must, or at least decide Virgil's not just asking to be nosy, because he looks away again.

"There are people who are into figure skating all year long and that's great, but they're, like, fans. And I love my fans, really, but I don't—sometimes it gets a bit much, you know?"

"Yeah."

"And then there are people who just like it for the holidays because it's 'festive.' Like, 'oh, let's go ice skating, it's Christmas,' or 'oh, let's go see a skating show because it's winter,' that sort of thing. And then they do it, and then it's done, and they go home and have their actual holidays together, and…"

Something terribly sad enters Roman's voice as they sit in the snow at the light, and Virgil suddenly has the image of a performer's smile fading as the lights go out. And it strikes him how terribly lonely what Roman's describing sounds, like he's just something people check off their lists and then move on with those they actually care about. And how much Patton seemed to understand that of course Roman didn't tell him what he did for a living.

"You want people to want to spend time with you for who you are," he says quietly, "not what you are."

"Yeah," Roman says back, equally soft, "that's it."

He looks down at his cane, spinning it in his hand. "I get that."

"I know you do." Roman reaches out and puts a hand on his shoulder. "I really didn't mean to keep secrets."

"It's fine, I get it. But thank you for telling me."

The light turns green and they start driving again. The silence feels gentler, somehow, Roman even starts humming under his breath. It's that same song that was playing over the speakers when they first met at the park.

Wait a fucking second.

"You asked me to skate."

"Huh?"

"When we met, at the park, you offered to skate with me. Even though you skate for a living and someone might have recognized you."

"What was I supposed to do?" Roman sighs, but this time it's clear he's going for drama. "I was talking to this cute guy and my brain fell out of my ears."

"You—what?"

Roman glances over and chuckles. "You're getting all blushy again, you know."

"I—what—shut up!"

"Did Patton also say I talk about you all the time?"

"Maybe!"

"Well, there you go, cutie. Wha—hey, hey! I'm driving!"

"You'll fucking live, you absolute dick."

But Roman's laughing again and he looks so happy that Virgil can't be mad for very much longer. And, you know, he is driving, and he would like to make it to the restaurant in one piece.

"You're paying for lunch, you know."

"Whatever you say, cutie."

5.

"If you dragged me all the way out here for nothing, I swear to God—"

"We're almost there, I promise, I promise."

Virgil groans, slumping down in the car seat at Roman makes yet another turn. Roman texted him two hours ago asking if he was free and could they go somewhere really quickly, he promises it's worth it, and Virgil had been too caught up in the sappy floaty feeling of Roman's excitement to say no, and now here they are, driving who the fuck knows where, in the dark, up a path that barely has any lights.

"How do you even know we're not getting lost?"

"We're not lost, I know exactly where we are."

"So if I got out a paper map and said 'where are we,' you could point to it and you'd be right?"

"Well, I'd be more impressed that you had a paper map with this exact area that you could be accurate about—"

"What, you don't think I've got maps?"

"I'd never doubt your map capabilities, Virgil."

"You'd better not, the atlas my mom got me for fourth grade would be so disappointed at you when I throw it at your head."

"I'm sorry, you're the one throwing it and it's going to be disappointed at me?"

"Yeah, 'cause you did something so outrageous it's made me need to throw it."

Roman chuckles as he makes another turn—are they going up a hill or something? "My mistake. Really, we are almost there."

"Uh-huh."

"What, you don't believe me?"

"I believe you about as much as I did the last ten times you've said it."

"I have not said it ten times!"

"No, you've said it way more than ten times."

"Well, if you keep asking 'are we there yet,' I'm going to keep answering you."

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost."

"Are we there y—" Roman reaches over and pushes his shoulder lightly. "Okay, okay, I'll knock it off."

"Look, see that sign?"

Virgil sits up and peers through the windshield at the sign that reads 'Observation Point.' "Yeah."

"That's where we're going."

"Fine, fine, you're not a liar."

"Thank you."

Sure enough, it really is only a few more moments before Roman's pulling the car out onto a large flat overlook and putting it in park. Virgil looks around, trying to figure out what exactly they're doing all the way out here and why Roman was so insistent that they go tonight, when Roman turns the headlights off. "Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?"

"Relax, I'm keeping the heat on so we don't freeze." He nods out the window. "Look."

"I can't see shit, Roman, look at what?"

"Give your eyes a second to adjust."

He looks, truly not expecting to see anything. It's just blackness, the afterglow of the headlights still burning his retinas out. He squints. There are surprisingly few clouds out tonight, especially considering the winter weather they're supposed to get later this week. He can sort of see something through the gloom, below them, but it's not that clear yet. Slowly, little by little, his eyes adjust and…

"Oh," he says in a rush of breath.

The entire city sprawls out beneath them. Glittering and shimmering houses, buildings, Christmas lights and flashing decorations. The snow sparkles with it, the glow almost a sea of wonder against the inky blue night sky. Reds, greens, blues, purples, far-away inflatables that must be giant but look like nothing more than storybook characters from this high up. Some of the houses closest to them have trees, right out front, others have sleighs and reindeer, even more have snowmen just barely lit by the edges of the shining lights.

It's incredible.

"I didn't think I'd get a chance to see it this year," Roman says, as if he's afraid to break the silence, "but then it cleared up and I knew it'd be perfect."

Virgil can't say anything. He's too spellbound.

"Thank you for coming with me."

"Thank you for asking. This is—holy fuck, Roman, this is so fucking cool."

"I'm glad you like it. I was a bit worried with the roads, sometimes they don't clear them properly, but at least we can sit in the car instead of having to walk or something."

Maybe it's the fact that he's tired, or the surge of sappiness when Roman had said he'd known it'd be perfect and he'd reached out for Virgil, or maybe he's been holding this in since Roman held out that stupid hot chocolate. Whatever it is, Virgil sniffles.

"Whoa, hey, hey," Roman murmurs right away, reaching out for him like the stupidly perfect Prince Charming, "what's wrong, honey? Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Virgil spits through his stupid tears, "no, you did—you did everything right."

"O..kay?"

"You did everything right," he says again, "you—you made sure we could drive so we could just sit in the car and you picked me up so you could drive me instead of making me take the bus and you asked how much walking was too much walking and you stood up for me and you asked me if it was rude before you asked about my cane and you got me hot chocolate and you're—you're—"

An actual sob chokes out of his mouth and he claps a hand over it, only for Roman to let out a noise of dismay and coaxes his hand away, holding it tightly. He leans over the console and tenderly wipes away one of Virgil's tears and it's too soft and gentle and perfect—

"You did everything right," Virgil manages, not daring to look at Roman's concerned face, "you—you're too sweet."

Roman lets out the softest noise and strokes his cheek again. "You're worth being sweet to, honey."

"Shut up, you're gonna make me cry more."

"That's okay, honey, you can cry. That's—it's a good cry, right?"

"Yeah, you bastard, it's a good cry." He sniffles. "Now shut up."

"Can I shut up and hug you?"

"Yes."

And goddamnit, an awkward hug where Roman has to lean halfway out of his seat over the console to get his arms around him should not feel so warm and safe and comforting, but fuck it, Virgil's already crying into his shoulder anyway, he might as well fully commit to it. If Roman has a problem with contorting himself to hug a sobbing mess, he doesn't say anything about it. No, he just keeps humming and shushing Virgil with sweet nonsense, his hand alternating between carding through his hair and stroking his cheek. It's not fair, and Virgil's not giving it up for anything.

Eventually, his tears run dry and he scrubs his nose with his sleeve as Roman sits back down, keeping one hand on the back of his neck. Fingers play with the hair right above his collar. He sniffles.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, honey, it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I just cried all over you."

"Oh no," Roman says dryly, "however will I survive such a terrible fate?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up."

Roman chuckles, fingers still scratching lightly at Virgil's scalp. "Really, Virgil, it's alright. I'm just glad I'm not the only one getting all sappy."

If he were less emotionally drained from crying, or if Roman's fingers were less good at making him melt into a boneless little puddle, he might have had a retort for that. Instead, he just looks out over the lights in all their sparkling glory and sighs, leaning into the touch. Roman starts humming again and there they sit, enjoying the night.

"If I fall asleep," he mumbles, "will you wake me up?"

"If you fall asleep, I'll drive you home and then wake you up so we can get you to bed."

"Fine."

He tries. He tries doggedly to stay awake, to not miss a moment of this, of the lights, the night, of Roman and his stupid Prince-Charming self. But he must fall asleep, or at least get close to it, because the fingers in his hair slow, and stop. Roman chuckles softly, and the car starts, and they drive through the night. And for a moment, as they leave behind the sea of lights, he thinks that Roman lied to him—they can't be in a car, just driving home.

Not when it feels like they're flying.

+1.

It's really a surprise that he managed to hold it back for this long, but it was eventually going to happen.

The swirling mist of a monster that is his anxiety has been biding its time, waiting for him to let his guard down to spring out and warp him up in its stupid fucking mess and make him stop appreciating everything that's going on and make it just the fucking worst.

Roman Prince is too perfect, it decides. There's no way this all gets to happen to him and there's no catch. The image of the hidden cameras and the reality show crew comes back; when do they jump out and say it's all fake? When is the illusion going to shatter?

Maybe he's just biding his time and trying to find a way to exit Virgil's life and never return. Maybe he has a partner, or something, and he really thinks Virgil's just his friend. Maybe he's not even gay. Maybe Virgil's just a fling and he's going to leave as soon as New Year's is over. Maybe he's going to get swept up in his life of professional figure skating again and Virgil will be stuck with chasing down his shows and competitions to even see him ever again. Maybe they're going to become the friends that aren't really friends but they still have each other's number for some reason.

Maybe—

"You're thinking too loudly," Roman murmurs from where his face is tucked near the crook of Virgil's shoulder, reaching out to pause the movie, "are you okay?"

Virgil sighs, leaning back into Roman's embrace. He'd surprised him by coming over—well, no, he'd texted to ask if Virgil would mind if he came over, but that was out of nowhere, so it counted—and then they'd ordered way too much food and put on a Christmas movie, and Virgil had pushed for The Nightmare Before Christmas and Roman hadn't protested. And then Roman had asked if he could cuddle him—"Because it's a crime to leave you sitting there on the couch, in the dark, like you have no one to cuddle you, honey."—and then he'd wrapped his arms around him and it'd been all warm and soft and cozy and Virgil hadn't wanted to move to get his hot chocolate from the coffee table that probably wasn't even hot anymore—

"You're still drifting." Roman sits up, pulling away. "Is everything okay?"

Virgil bites his lip. "It's dumb."

"I like dumb things."

"You'll laugh."

"Only if you say something funny."

"You'll be mad," he says in a very quiet voice, and he feels Roman stutter above him. He squeezes his eyes shut.

"Oh, honey," he hears distantly, before the couch is shifting under him and there are warm hands carefully cupping his face. "Will you look at me, please?"

He doesn't want to. He wants to stay here in the dark with Roman touching him like he's something precious, but then Roman's calling his name and fuck it, he can't disappoint Roman, so he opens his eyes. Roman smiles at him with that same fucking soft smile that's been taking him out at the knees since day one, and he can tell he's pouting before Roman even says anything.

"I'm not going to be mad," he says with all the patience in the world, "if something's bothering you, I want to know about it. Please, tell me?"

"You're not leaving, right?"

As soon as the words leave his mouth and Roman scrunches up his face in confusion, he wants to run away and hide under all his blankets and never speak to anyone again.

"Never mind. Forget it."

"What do you mean, am I leaving?"

"I said forget it. See? Dumb. Never mind."

"Don't do that," Roman chides gently, pulling his focus back, "don't hide from me. What did you mean?"

Virgil sighs, trying to not lose himself in how warm Roman's hands are. "It's just—everyone leaves. Sort of. I know—I mean I get it. I get how these things go. You—it's the holidays, right? You get all the emotions and then New Year's happens and you move on. I know that happens, I know that's how it works sometimes, and it's fine, I get it, but—"

"Slow down." He sits up. "Why do you think I'm leaving?"

Fuck it. "Because you're too perfect, okay? You—you're sweet and kind and you help me with everything and you're fun to be around and you're funny and you're smart and—and you're really fucking attractive, and I don't—" he takes a deep breath— "I don't know what to do about it anymore, okay?"

Roman's quiet. He's quiet for a long moment. Then his hands leave Virgil's face and he cringes, curling up in on himself—he's done it, he's made Roman leave, it's his fault, it's all his fault, they didn't even make it to New Year's—

His eyes fly open in shock when Roman suddenly hugs him tightly. His breath leaves him in a rush as Roman squeezes, holding him with such a fierce strength that he just ends up going limp in his hold.

"I don't know," Roman growls, "what sort of absolute assholes have been so cruel to you that you think everyone is just going to leave, but they'd better fucking hope we never meet."

"Wh—what?"

"You're fucking perfect too, Virgil. You're smart and you make me laugh and you're genuinely kind to people and you—you make me feel safe, okay?" He pulls back but somehow this is worse because now they're just staring into each other's eyes. "You're amazing. Why the hell would I want to leave you?"

"I—um—well—"

"I don't want to leave," Roman confesses, and fuck, Virgil can hear his heart breaking, "do…you don't want me to leave, do you?"

"No," he says in a rush, "no, I don't want you to leave."

"Great, 'cause I wanna be stuck with you until you're sick of me."

"I'm not gonna get sick of you—"

"Well, I'm not gonna get sick of you either—"

"Great!"

"Great!"

And then he's the one leaning forward to knock Roman over with a hug. Roman wraps his arms just as tightly around him and suddenly there's a kiss being pressed to his head.

Everything stops.

"Shit," Roman breathes, and it curls around his ear, "I…I meant to ask if that was okay before I did it, I'm sorry, I—"

But Virgil's already turned and pressed a kiss of his own to Roman's jaw. He feels more than hears Roman's breath stutter, the chest under him jumping as Roman turns to look at him. Like this, their faces are barely a few inches apart, and Roman smells like hot chocolate.

"It's okay," Virgil mumbles into their shared space, "it's…more than okay."

And there Roman goes, curling his mouth up into that fucking soft smile again, and then he's sliding a hand up to cup the back of Virgil's. "So I can kiss you?"

"Yes, you can kiss me."

Fuck, he tastes like hot chocolate too.

"I'm not leaving," Roman whispers against his lips, not bothering to pull away, "I'm not leaving you, baby."

"Fuck."

"No good?"

"Very good," Virgil mumbles, leaning forward again, but then his phone is buzzing and he's pulling back with a curse to make it shut the fuck up. Roman comes up and wraps his arms around him again, hands slowly playing with the hem of his sweater as his chin hooks over his shoulder. "I'm almost done, I promise."

"Am I 'Prince Charming' in your phone?"

"No," Virgil says, like a liar as he throws his phone onto the floor.

"Aww, that's so cute, baby."

"Shut up and kiss me, Princey."

"As you wish," Roman murmurs, and then Virgil doesn't have a chance to think about the fact that he just called Roman 'Princey.'

They don't end up finishing the movie, but Roman says they can watch the rest over breakfast instead.

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[hoseokhasmyheartxx]

hiiii steph!!! could i request 25 and 125 and jin? tysm!

Drunken Confessions | KSJ

*Pairing: best friend!Seokjin x gn!reader *Word Count: 1093 *Genre: friends-to-something, fluff, non-idol AU *Warnings: alcohol consumption and some crying are the only warnings i can think of, but regardless, my work is 18+ and MINORS DNI. *Summary: When you go to pick your best friend up from the bar, the last thing you're expecting is a drunken confession. *A/N: jfc i am so sorry this took so long! i have writer's hyperactivity and can barely focus on one fic at a time, let alone multiple. 🤣 i hope you enjoy this!

Prompt from this post!

Main Masterlist

Being woken up at 1:30 AM on a Thursday morning wasn’t exactly your idea of fun.

Being woken up at 1:30 AM on a Thursday morning to go pick up your drunk best friend? Even worse.

You sighed, hanging up the phone and dragging yourself out of bed. Silently cursing Jungkook for enabling him once again, you grabbed your keys and slipped on your shoes before heading out the door.

The drive to the bar was uneventful and quick. Pulling over to the side of the street and flipping on your hazard lights, you texted Jungkook to tell him to hurry up. Within minutes, you were greeted with the sight of him, Jin’s stumbling making you giggle as they reached your car.

“Sorry, dude. He insisted I call you instead of an Uber,” Jungkook huffed out, dumping Jin into the passenger seat of your car. “Good luck.”

You waved as Jungkook shut the car door, putting the car into drive again as you left the bar. Glancing over at Jin, you laughed as you saw him already passed out, head lolling to the side, mouth agape.

Shaking your head, you drove silently to Jin’s apartment complex. You pulled into his second parking space, turning to face him. Nudging him gently, you shook him awake.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Get up. We’re here.”

Jin grumbled, struggling to get his seatbelt off. Letting out an exasperated sigh, you reached over to unclick it for him, then went one step farther and pulled the lever to open his car door for him as well. Turning the car off, you walked over to his side of the car and pulled the door open all the way. You watched as he stumbled his way out of your car, almost tripping over his own feet multiple times on the way to his front door. You followed him, wanting to make sure he got to bed without falling and cracking his head open on the tile floor.

He was so drunk that he could barely get his keys out of his pocket without dropping them. Rolling your eyes, you fished around in his back pocket for the keys and silently unlocked his front door. Letting yourself in, you stood to the side as Jin came in after you, kicking his shoes off to the side.

He was unusually quiet today. Even on his drunkest nights, Jin was typically the life of the party. Obnoxious laughter and loud, nonstop talking were his personality. He would never shut up about how much fun he was, or how handsome his face was. He had even drunkenly given himself the nickname WWH, “Worldwide Handsome.” But tonight, something was different.

Grabbing a bottle of water from his kitchen, and Advil from his bathroom, you followed him into his bedroom, where he was seated on the bed. Watching him struggle to unbutton his shirt was comical at first, but after multiple failed attempts, it became painful to watch.

“Here, let me help you,” you offered. Sitting down next to him, you reached over and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. Your fingers worked quickly, wanting to get home so you could get back to sleep. Finishing the buttons, you patted his chest and stood again, watching as he sat, still abnormally quiet.

You handed him the Advil and water, hoping he wouldn’t wake up hungover, even though he rightly deserved it at this point. You watched as he swallowed the pills, his throat bobbing as he drank his water. Sighing, he shakily placed the water bottle down on his nightstand before standing to take his pants off. You hurriedly turned around. The two of you were close, but not that close.

Hearing the mattress squeak, followed by the rustling of his comforter, you knew he was covered, so you turned around again. He just stared at you, not saying anything. Jin was tall, with broad shoulders that engulfed you every time he hugged you. But, seeing him huddled up in bed, his comforter pulled up to his chin, he looked so small. His eyes searched yours, a look on them you’d never seen before. Almost like.. sadness. Jin wasn’t one to ever show his emotions, so this threw you.

“Alright, bud. You good? If you are, I'm gonna go,” you said, heading toward the door behind you. You took a few steps before you heard your name called from behind you. You turned back, facing him again.

“It hurts.”

Scrunching your face up in confusion, you closed the distance between the two of you, kneeling on the floor next to his bed, your face level with his.

“Jinnie, what hurts? Are you okay?”

You watched as tears rolled down his cheeks. You cradled his face in your hand, swiping them away with your thumb.

He took a deep breath, calming himself before continuing.

“It hurts loving someone who doesn’t love you.”

You felt your hand drop from his face, your heart along with it. You weren’t positive that he was talking about you, but you had a feeling. Jin had been your best friend for two years, and you’d always hoped that maybe something could happen between you two. But it never had; he’d never given you the slightest hint that it could be possible.

“Who, Jinnie? What are you talking about?” 

He shifted onto his back, eyes never leaving yours.

“You, dumbass. I- I love you,” he slurred.

Your heart skipped a beat. Well, more like several beats. 

“Jin… you’re drunk,” you reasoned.

“You’re right, I am. But it’s the truth.”

Sighing, you stood, trying to get out of there before you did something stupid, like believe him.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Jin. Get some sleep,” you said, rushing out of his room, out the door to your car. You drove home, holding back tears the whole way.

You tossed and turned all night, unsure when you finally fell asleep. You woke up, feeling even more exhausted than you were before.

Checking your phone, you opened your texts, only to drop your phone directly onto your face upon reading the only message you had.

              8:47 AM Jinnie: I meant it. I’m in love with you.

You stared at the ceiling, eyes wide as you digested what you’d just read. Jin had drunkenly told you he was in love with you, which you didn’t believe. But now? He was telling you the same thing, completely sober, and you knew he wasn’t someone who would ever lie about something like this.

Now what? 

[sound0ut]

Nine people I’d like to get to know better

I’ve never done a post like this before, so be gentle, y’all. Thanks for the tag, @augustjustice!

Last song I listened to:

All My Exes Live In Vortexes by Rosie Tucker. Highly recommended if you need a way to vent your existential angst about living in the Anthropocene.

Currently watching/reading:

Currently watching season 2 of The Bear. I know I’m late to this one but as someone who used to work in a kitchen and had some of the most stressful days of her life there, it took me a while to feel ready. It’s really well-done, both in terms of writing and acting, but jfc it’s triggering for me sometimes.

Currently reading a bunch of stuff, as always, but what I’ll mention is that I’m in the midst of a reread of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Big Magic, one of the texts I tend to return to when I need a kick in the pants, creatively. Current favorite piece of wisdom from Gilbert (or Seamus Heaney via Gilbert) is this:

“A particularly elegant commentary on this instinct [trust in your creativity] came from Nobel laureate Seamus Heaney, who said that—when one is learning how to write poetry—one should not expect it to be immediately good. The aspiring poet is constantly lowering a bucket only halfway down a well, coming up time and again with nothing but empty air. The frustration is immense. But you must keep doing it, anyway” (148).

Sweet/savory/spicy?: Depends on my mood, but probably savory.

Relationship status: Happily married bi bb ✌️

Current obsessions: I tend to be a person of varied and rotating obsessions, including: finding the perfect early 80s tunes as the soundtrack for my current podfic project, Monster Theory scholarship (ask me about my personal theory about yonic imagery and the gates/monstrous mouths in ST), adding miles to my long ride, getting better at Travis picking, improving my voice acting/narration, writing my silly little stories (and never sharing them b/c 😱).

I have few mutuals on here and have talked to even fewer folks, so apologies if this is out of the blue, but @chaoskiro, @wynnyfryd, @cuips-not-cute, @onirislanding, @teddywesworl, @geddyqueer, @hullomoon, @n0connections, @xiaq I would love to learn more about you if you feel moved to share :) Or from anyone else for that matter, if you want to connect!