#though even draft games get ruined by rares

[dravidious]

It's shit like this that stops me from playing magic more often

[septembersghost]

tío was a piece of shit but honestly i can absolutely see why gus decided to keep him alive purely out of sadism. you know when gus said that a shot to the head would be far too humane? i know he's a piece of fuck too and a shot to the head would be far too humane for him too but honestly i get it lol

we love (if that's even the appropriate word) and are fascinated by gus, but gus, when examined closely, is truly a disturbed individual - undeniably tragic, but that man is twisted. and the coati story (along with other allusions) implies he was that way long before what happened to max, max just metastasized it. it's completely understandable why he makes the decision to keep hector like that, to get the satisfaction of it, and at the same time, it's like...if he could be reasonable, at all, he'd have let him die, and look at the mess he'd have saved himself. walt could never have gotten the upper hand, it was gus' one weakness. the achilles' heel of it all. that's such a great line, though - hector's so horrible that the narrative convinces us with gus' conviction that he has earned that torment.

i'm a bit haunted by where we left gus in bcs - it's smart, but it's so bereft. there's a loneliness to it that i can't properly articulate (i have half a post about this in my drafts that i never fleshed out, and i couldn't bring myself to watch fun and games again, which has left it sitting there). he has, for the briefest of moments, almost an escape hatch. a connection to another human being. this is something we rarely, if ever, see. gus is very adept at his persona (we talk about jimmy's saul persona all the time because it's omnipresent and colorful and loud, but gus has one too! the courteous benefactor of the community with a welcoming business), but in that scene with the sommelier, there's a hint of something more real, neither the fastidious, calculating drug lord nor the faux considerate businessman, and he immediately shuts it down. we see the shutters close across his face (even as he's opened the curtains at home). he converses with mike, and continues on his path of revenge, and we already know. we know he'll get it, in many measures, and we also know that way leads to ruin. the last image we have of him in brba is so gruesome and somehow iconic now in its gore, almost elevated beyond reality as he straightens his tie before collapsing, and the explosion is startling, and walt gets, "i win." but in bcs, gus can't have a real conclusion, everything is still unfurling, so what we get is instead this minuscule glimpse under the mask, and then a small death all its own, a spiritual one, as that mask slips back into place.

fun and games was like a psychological horror episode on some level, and it's...such an ending. i know i've said this, but in hindsight it's even more clear - it IS the ending to bcs in so many ways, to the story we were in, and it's so contrasting. it's intimate (almost claustrophobic in a few places), it's mostly quiet, it's all character driven, and everyone seals their fates, everyone dies a little. gus at the restaurant, and mike with manuel, and...fundamentally, jimmy and kim, who will never be the same...and they're all closing doors on choices. it's inexorable, we can't help them or stop them.

a bullet to the head would be far too humane...that humane exit is left to nacho, but all the rest of them plunge so much further into darknesses of their own construction. they keep having to live (at least for a while). it's the harder and more tortuous path.

[yukidragon]

Our Life Snippet - Lazy Morning Intimacy

So, who’s ready for an extra long serving of shameless fluff from the first draft of my fan novelization of Our Life: Beginnings & Always? My philosophy in writing this is if I can add some more fluffy cuddly moments, I absolutely will, and the Step 3 moment Reflection offers one such opportunity right at the very start before, well, those of you who have played this moment know what happens later.

Spoilers for those who have not played the Step 3 DLC! If you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t read any further! If you don’t mind spoilery stuff, well, don’t let me stop you, but I highly, highly encourage you to play through the game before reading any of this.

As always, thanks go to @gb-patch for their wonderful game and their lovely feedback for my work, as well as everyone who likes, reblogs, and comments on these clips I’m posting here. You are all awesome.  💖

...

It wasn’t often that Jamie had the chance to enjoy breakfast at the Holden house. Ever since their parents decreed that they were ‘too old’ for sleepovers, she and Cove didn’t have many opportunities to enjoy that particular meal together, which made today a rare treat. It wasn’t especially fancy fare, but it was lovely to be able to spend time with her boyfriend almost as soon as she woke up. She was glad she impulsively asked if he wanted to have breakfast with her when they exchanged their usual good morning texts.

After a pleasant meal filled with light conversation and tasty food, Cove invited Jamie to retreat to his room to relax and let the lazy morning linger before any big activities began. That was, if they didn’t just decide to take it easy for the rest of the day. Neither of them had any plans in particular, with no prior commitments with friends, family, or work to distract them from just spending the day together. It wasn’t officially a date day, per say, or at least neither of them called it that yet. So far, they just decided to do whatever came to mind while enjoying each other’s company.

Of course, the first thing that came to Jamie’s mind was to cuddle with her boyfriend. When Cove sat down onto the bed, she didn’t hesitate to take a seat beside him, leaning into him. He hummed happily in approval and looped an arm around her to pull her in even closer.

A mischievous smile tugged at her lips as a new thought came to mind, and Jamie leaned in even closer. Cove raised an eyebrow at expression, only to yelp when she unexpectedly pushed her weight into him and tipped him back onto the bed. She fell along with him, giggling as they tumbled onto the mattress

Cove let out a chuckle of his own once he recovered from his surprise. “When I said we could relax, I didn’t mean going back to bed,” he said with a wry smile. Even still, he allowed her to nudge him gently back to the headboard so that they could both lounge comfortably on the bed properly with their heads resting on the pillows side by side. 

Jamie flashed Cove a satisfied grin before she snuggled up against his side, nuzzling her cheek against his as she basked in his gentle warmth. “You also said to make myself comfortable,” she teased, her eyes sparkling playfully as she rested her arm across his chest. “I’m very comfortable like this.”

Cove felt his heartbeat quicken, and he smiled back fondly at Jamie, nuzzling her cheek in return. “Me too,” he said softly.

Though maybe he was a little too comfortable.

Cove couldn’t help but be aware of the fact that they were both lying in his bed together. A prickling of nerves rose up that he quickly did his best to tamp down to not ruin the intimate moment they were sharing. It was fine, no big deal, he told himself. They were both fully dressed, on top of the sheets, and it was broad daylight. They cuddled plenty of times like this before on sofas and the ground. Heck, this was nothing compared to when they shared a bed when they were younger.

The flickering of nervousness didn’t escape Jamie’s notice. She softened her expression and reached up to gently run her fingers through her shy boyfriend’s hair. She had intended to steal a kiss or two and see where that would take them, but she decided that could wait until later. Just enjoying this moment with Cove was enough for her.

The touch was soothing, and Cove slowly started to relax as he leaned into Jamie. The anxious air that had threatened to pull him out of the moment gradually dissipated as her comforting warmth slowly settled in. Soon, he felt at ease enough to slip his arm back around her, which she happily used as her new pillow. He couldn’t help but smile at seeing the content expression on his partner’s face as she smiled softly back at him.

A comfortable silence washed over the pair as they simply enjoyed the quiet moment of intimacy. At some point, Jamie went from stroking Cove’s hair to toying with it. His ponytail limited her in how much she could card her fingers through his hair, but there were plenty of long locks to ripple between her fingers.

It wasn’t the first time Jamie got the impulse to play with her boyfriend’s hair. Even before he was officially - or even unofficially - her boyfriend, she couldn’t help but want to run her fingers through those pretty pale green strands. When they were younger, Cove would jokingly try to avoid her hands, but always ‘failed’ to escape in the end, allowing her to have her way. Sometimes she teased him back by pretending to give up, and he would always pout adorably, which she would immediately chase away with a satisfying ruffle of his hair.

Occasionally, Jamie would go beyond playing to actual styling. She was no professional, but it was fun to wind her boyfriend’s hair into a braid or two sometimes. Cove never minded, even if the braids rarely lasted that long after she was finished making them. It also didn’t escape her notice that he would sometimes shiver or let out an adorable pleasured little mumble when she raked her fingers along his scalp. It was an enjoyable experience for both of them, and sometimes she suspected that was one of the reasons why he let his hair grow as long as he did.

Jamie had no such grand designs now. Today she simply basked in the freedom to enjoy the feeling of his soft hair sliding between her fingers as she listened to the happy noises her partner occasionally let slip.

Although much more at ease, Cove couldn’t help the small traces of nervous energy that left him with the need to do something with his hands. He ran his thumb across her shoulder with the hand that was limited by Jamie resting on the upper part of his arm. With his freer hand, he decided to return the favor she paid to him and ran his fingers through her long deep blue hair, starting with stroking back her bangs before sliding his hand down along the entire length of her hair until he reached the ends at her hips. The feeling was soft and silky, and she sighed softly at the attention.

On impulse, Cove poked one of the small buns on top of his girlfriend’s head. Space buns were her preferred hairstyle of choice nowadays, and there was something satisfying about poking them that he couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the feel of them, or the way the bunched up hair bounced when poked that did it, but most likely it was because of the amused looks Jamie gave him whenever he did. She wore one such expression now, and he couldn’t help but chuckle a bit before giving her bun another playful poke.

Entertained, Jamie let Cove have her way with her buns, poking and prodding them as he pleased. The potential for innuendo wasn’t lost on her, but she let it go unsaid. As fun as it would be to make him flustered by suggesting that he might enjoy playing with a different set of buns she had even more, she didn’t want to interrupt the light, playful moment.

Jamie would just save that little bit of wordplay for later, preferably when the mood was good enough that Cove might take her up on the invitation.

Despite the steamy thoughts that skirted through her mind, Jamie did her best to focus on enjoying the lazy moment between them. It was lovely to just share such casual intimacy with Cove.

Jamie wasn’t alone in trying to ignore her more hormonal urges. As much as Cove enjoyed playing with her hair, focusing on touching her as he did made it impossible for him to stop thinking about the fact that they were both lying on his bed together. He was keenly aware of the gentle warmth of her body pressed against him, how soft and inviting her pink lips looked as she smiled at him.

Eventually, Cove realized he needed something else to occupy his hands if he didn’t want to risk disrupting the peaceful moment. Shifting about a bit, he fished his cell phone out of his pocket. Although Jamie raised an eyebrow at that and at being displaced from her cozy spot when he moved around, she held no objections as he turned his phone on and busied himself with it. Instead, she simply readjusted her position to get comfortable once he was settled again.

Sifting through missed texts and emails, Cove soon managed to distract himself from the urges that ruffled his nerves and relaxed back into the moment. He spotted a number of texts he missed from his dad, and for a moment he wondered if everything was okay until he realized Cliff just sent him a bunch of images last night.

A warm smile graced his face as Cove slowly scrolled his way through the photographs, nostalgia washing over him. Each photo brought him back to the moment it was taken, allowing him to lose himself in the priceless memories he shared with his friends, family, and especially the special person he held so comfortably close at that very moment.

Some photos brought back sweet memories, others a little more on the bitter side of sweet, and then there were the funnier ones. One such silly photo seized Cove’s attention, and he couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped him.

The sound immediately snapped Jamie out of her relaxed stupor and brought her back to the present. She raised an eyebrow at Cove, but he failed to notice her questioning look, too preoccupied by whatever was on his phone’s screen.

“What’s so funny?” Jamie asked as she propped herself up on her arm to get a better look at his face and catch a glimpse of the phone’s screen.

Cove finally turned to look at Jamie, his eyes crinkled with mirth and a smirk playing on his lips. “Dad scanned some old photos,” he chuckled. “You know…”

Now that Jamie was no longer using his arm as a pillow, Cove was free to use it to draw a rectangle in the air. “Printed out ones,” he explained, “back from when I was little.” He waved his phone a bit with his other hand. “He texted it all to me last night, I guess. I’ve been checking them out.”

Jamie sat up completely, her dark blue eyes flying open wide. “You were looking at your kiddie photos and didn’t tell me?!” she gasped, almost scandalized at missing out on something so priceless.

Cove barely resisted the urge to chuckle, offering Jamie a bent smile as his eyes narrowed playfully. “I was gonna show you.” His gaze then slid away to his phone as his expression turned a little more hesitant. “I just wanted to look at it first to make sure there was nothing super embarrassing. You never know with my dad.”

His mouth pulled into a grimace as Cove could easily imagine all sorts of horrors his dad might have captured on film to unintentionally humiliate him until the end of time. “I mean… what if there’s a photo of me getting potty trained or something?”

Although Jamie empathized with his worries, she couldn’t help but giggle at the fraught expression Cove wore. “Yeah, that sounds like something your dad would do.”

Cove could only respond by clearing his throat nervously, his eyes skirting away from Jamie as he sat up as well. While he hadn’t come across any particularly humiliating photo of himself, he couldn’t quite shake the fear of what his dad’s well-meaning actions might have left for him to deal with this time.

Jamie offered her boyfriend a sympathetic smile before adding a slight bent to it. “Hey, how about this - if you let me look at your embarrassing baby photos, I’ll show you just as many of mine. My moms have plenty of them.”

The offer was tempting. Cove couldn’t help but wonder what sort of photos Jamie had in mind, but the price was just too steep. He merely chuckled awkwardly and shook his head as he pointedly kept his phone tilted away from her. She huffed and puffed out her cheeks in a mock pout at him for holding out on her, which elicited a genuine bout of laughter from him.

Once Cove got his mirth under control, he smiled at Jamie. “Anyway, before we forget, I was laughing ‘cause I came across a Halloween one from when I was eight. The year I was a zombie, remember?”

Jamie dropped her faux pout and nodded, her eyes lighting up eagerly. Cove shook his head at her excitement, a wry grin gracing his face as he finally offered the phone to her.

As Cove watched Jamie eagerly turn to his phone, he couldn’t help but shake his head again, this time at his kid self. “I never even liked zombies!” he said, a little baffled that he ever was so enthusiastic for such a costume. “All I wanted was to show off my new scar. And I needed to be something scary. I couldn’t be a normal person who had a scar, according to my eight-year-old mind.”

The photo displayed on the screen showed Cove from ten years in the past, and a pleasant wave of nostalgia washed over Jamie as she saw him the way he looked when they first met, minus the pink cast and plus a fair amount of makeup and fake blood. Little Cove posed for the camera with his fingers hooked like claws, his mouth open as though letting out what was probably supposed to be a fierce roar. She could easily remember the noises he made that night as he pretended to be a zombie on the hunt for brains. His hair looked even more wild and disheveled than it did after the most energetic day of play, going well with the tattered and ‘blood’ stained button up shirt he wore. His face was painted in gray down to his neck, marred with an array of fake scars that couldn’t compare to the real one on his arm.

Cove looked from Jamie to the phone and chuckled softly at the face his younger self pulled for the camera. “I was a little dork.”

Jamie eyed Cove at such self-depreciation before poking him on the nose. “You were a little cutie,” she insisted. “And now you’re a big cutie.”

Cove blinked at the playful action before blushing at the compliment. He had no words to reply to it except for a quiet, flustered chuckle as he rubbed his nose.

Jamie grinned at that reaction before turning back to the photo. As much as she enjoyed how adorable Cove looked while pretending to be a fierce monster, it was impossible to ignore the scar displayed so predominantly on his arm at that time. Her smile softened at the edges at the sight of such a large, jagged line of fresh skin that was such a deep and angry shade of red. The scar was a pale memory in the present, but back then it looked so painful, and at the time she found it hard not to worry about him and his comfort after his cast came off.

Still, Jamie refused to let that put a damper on the story and focused instead on just how much fun little Cove was having posing for the camera and remembering the way they played around with their costumes that night. She could vividly recall how she pretended to run away from him when he playfully growled that he wanted to eat her brains, and the memory made her smile grow stronger.

“Dad really wanted to be useful, as usual,” Cove said, bringing Jamie’s attention back to him in the present. Though he noticed the flicker of sadness that crossed her face and realized the reason for it, he was glad to see her perk up again just as quickly. “He came up with the idea of being an undead person. It was pretty good, huh?”

Jamie chuckled softly and nodded. “You had the best Halloween costume that year, hands down,” she said playfully. “I remember you getting lots of extra candy when adults realized the scar was real.” Her smile widened as she remembered just how jealous Lizzie had been at how much candy Cove got that year, especially since he only offered to share some of that extra candy with Jamie. “It must have been your greatest Halloween haul ever.”

Cove couldn’t help but chuckle as well as he thought back to that legendary candy haul as well. It took him a month to finish it all even with Jamie’s help.

Still, the topic of his scar brought his gaze back to the picture. Cove couldn’t help but compare the way it looked in the photo to its current appearance on his left arm. “I can’t believe how much larger my scar used to be,” he said quietly.

Jamie watched as Cove turned his focus to his arm with a soft smile on his face. He traced his fingers along the jagged line of pale flesh that remained with him even ten years on. It was an action that she had seen him do countless times, but it felt more significant in that moment.

A soft sigh escaped Cove, but his eyes and tone were playful. “Look at how tiny it is now.” He gave Jamie a look with big, pathetic eyes. “How am I gonna pretend to be tough without a big scar?”

It was a struggle for Jamie not to laugh at the expression Cove wore. “You better not do anything stupid to get a new scar,” she joked with a faux disapproving frown as she wagged a finger at him. “No matter how much you like them!”

Cove grinned back at Jamie. “I won’t.”

“Good,” Jamie said with a satisfied nod. “You’ve already got the coolest scar, no matter how small it gets.”

Cove felt his cheeks grow warm and his smile turned bashful. “Thanks.” He ducked his head away from Jamie, pleased with their joking exchange. Once again, his eyes drifted down to his scar as he continued to trace it.

“I really do like having this,” he admitted in a soft, shy voice. “Even if it is kind of little these days.”

Jamie’s expression softened as well, feeling as though Cove was sharing a big secret with her. She couldn’t help but feel happy to hear that he liked his scar despite whatever pain it must have caused him to get it. It was always wonderful whenever he opened up to her like this.

Cove glanced up at Jamie, a gentle smile gracing his lips. “I like yours, too.”

The unexpected compliment caught Jamie off guard, and heat rose in her cheeks, turning them pink. She couldn’t help but smile as she felt her chest flutter with butterflies. He never failed to think of her as well, especially since he knew that she was self-conscious of her own scars.

Unthinkingly, Jamie brought her hand up to her upper arm and traced some of the countless jagged little white lines that marred her pale skin. There were matching scars in the same place on her other arm, as well as her thighs and her chest. Unlike Cove, these scars were not the result of an accident, but her skin not being able to keep up with her sudden growth during puberty.

Back during her early teenage years when the stretch marks were fresh and an angry purplish-red, Jamie always kept them hidden. Puberty had been rough on her, dealing a blow to her self-esteem as well as her body, and being covered in so many scars left her feeling ugly even though she never once thought of Cove’s scar like that.

It took time for Jamie to accept her scars, and she knew that Cove was a big part of why. Seeing the way he took such quiet pride in his scar always made her question how she thought of hers. More than that, he always made her feel beautiful, and he was always the first to remind her  whenever she needed it. That was why she was no longer afraid to wear clothes that exposed her scars like she did now.

Jamie scooted in closer to Cove as she smiled adoringly at him, placing her hand on top of his. “Thank you, Cove.”

Cove turned back to face Jamie fully. He finally let go of his scar so that he could take her hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. He felt at peace with his scar and was happy to see the same reflected on her face as well. Their scars held such meaning to them despite coming from unhappy sources.

Jamie squeezed his hand back as she drifted even closer. “Could I touch your scar?”

Cove blinked, taken aback by the request. Usually, Jamie wasn’t shy about touching him without asking first, particularly someplace as innocent as his arm. Still, he quickly realized why she might hesitate to do that now and smiled gently at her as he nodded easily. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

Jamie gave Cove’s hand one more squeeze before letting go of it. Lightly, she pressed her fingertips against the edges of his scar. With great care, she slowly ran her thumb along the entire length of it, following the jagged angles the old wound took. The pale flesh was rough when compared to the rest of his skin, which was soft, but with goosebumps rising quickly along his arm as she stroked his scar.

The touch, so delicate and gentle, left Cove feeling a bit lightheaded. Jamie’s touch always felt wonderful and often left him feeling butterflies, but somehow the feel of her paying such careful attention to his scar was particularly powerful. A choked breath escaped him and a wobbly smile played across his face as he lost himself in the feeling.

The dizzied smile Cove wore along with the light pink of his cheeks drew Jamie in with the urge to do more. She locked eyes with him, staring deep into his aquamarine eyes as she took a hold of his arm and raised it up towards her.

A quiet gasp escaped Cove when she realized what Jamie had in mind. He couldn’t look away from her dark blue eyes as she stared so intently into him even as she placed a soft kiss on the old wound that marked him. The feeling of her lips, warm and soft, pressed so tenderly against that particular place sent shivers up his spine, and he let out a tiny squeak.

Jamie smiled against Cove’s skin as she appreciated his adorable reaction, as well as the way he looked at her with overwhelming adoration. She kissed him again and again, tracing the entire length of his scar with her lips like she did with her fingers before.

It was impossible for Cove to stay still when Jamie was showing him such affection. He reached up with his free hand to touch her arm. With his thumb, he brushed aside the edge of her open sleeve, giving him better access to the countless little white lines marking her pale skin. The texture was interesting, feeling so similar yet so different from his own scar. Because of their size and number, he found his fingers constantly alternating between soft skin and rougher tissue. It was difficult to trace any one scar from start to finish like she did for him, so instead he sought out to touch every single one.

The touch was electric, and Jamie could feel her heartbeat speed up as Cove caressed her so lovingly. “Cove…”

Cove shivered again as Jamie murmured his name against his skin, setting off sparks that made his body burn pleasantly. It urged him to lean forward, his eyes gleaming with the fire she set ablaze inside him.

Jamie raised her head and instinctively matched his movement, drawing nearer to Cove as her eyes drifted closed. She felt his lips gently meet hers, and she melted into the tender kiss. She held a little more firmly onto his arm as she fell deeper into him, feeling like she might drown in the depths of her feelings for him.

Cove all too quickly lost himself in the moment and in Jamie. It felt so wonderful, so right to be her like this, to touch and kiss her. He loved her so much that it was almost overwhelming, but knowing that she loved him as well kept him grounded.

Eventually they finally drifted apart, breathless and dazed from the kiss, their faces flushed with heat. When Jamie opened her eyes, she saw Cove gazing back at her with his mesmerizing ocean blue eyes. The look he gave her was spellbinding, filled with so much love and adoration that made her heart hammer hard against her ribcage. It told her without words that the feelings he had for her were just as immense as hers were for him.

Cove leaned in again, this time resting his forehead gently against Jamie’s. With heavy lidded eyes, he simply enjoyed gazing deeply into her blue eyes that always reminded him of the night sky. No matter how many times he saw them, they always captivated him. He could lose himself in those beautiful eyes of hers.

The feeling of his warm breath tickling her skin made Jamie shiver a little, especially the way it brushed against her lips like the ghost of a kiss. With their heads touching, his hand on her arm and hers on his, she felt entirely entwined with Cove. It felt so right.

Time ceased to have any meaning in that moment as they gazed deeply into their partner’s eyes and drank in the closeness and warmth they shared. Seconds or minutes might have passed, but neither of them cared as they lost themselves in each other.

[obae-me]

“Can you write the brothers with an MC who has a big scary looking dog but is actually really friendly, and a small adorable cuddly cat but actually hates new people?”

So Tumblr screwed me over a small bit by deleting a draft of an ask someone gave me, even though it still says I have a draft, when I go back to my drafts they’re gone, so I had to rewrite it. I have learned my lesson for not keeping it saved on something else. So I hope the quality didn’t suffer for it.

Thank you to the person who sent me this request, I’m sorry I can’t remember your blog name! You were really very friendly so thank you, stay hydrated and take care of yourself! 💜

Lucifer

When MC came to the devildom with two animals in tow, he wasn’t ready for the new year of having to look after three new additions to the household. Especially after many many Henry incidents, and that one Satan fiasco with the cats. It took them months to clean up all that cat hair. However, much to Lucifer’s surprise, MC took care of them really well. He gained a new respect for MC’s ability to follow through with responsibilities.

He did find it amusing that MC had a huge dog following them around. Of course they weren’t as big as Cerberus or nearly as terrifying, but MC’s pet was fairly intimidating for a normal creature.

He’s a dog person for sure. He’ll bond with MC’s dog faster than anyone would expect. Some of it having to do with the fact that Lucifer was the only brother willing to approach them at first.

He wasn’t surprised that the pet was lovable. He could tell that there was no malice in their eyes even when they barked at him. If he felt the pet needed some behavioral lessons, he’d gladly help MC with it. He trained Cerberus with his own two hands after all. 

He’d give the dog many secret treats and pets while no one was looking.

The cat though, he’d stay away from that one. One attempt to pet it as a show good spirits and one pair of his favorite gloves were ruined.

Mammon

MC had pets? He was excited for em, especially since Lucifer had never let him have a pet, and since they were MC’s he could have all the benefits of a pet without having to take care of them!

He tried bonding with the cat first since the small thing looked nothing like their dog. They were so tiny it was hard to believe it wasn’t a kitten. They had the biggest eyes, eyes that just begged for love! But when Mammon tried to pick the cat up, they hissed, leaving a large scratch mark on his face as they dashed under MC’s bed. He found it best to leave the cat alone from now on.

MC’s dog scared him for a while, though he’d never admit it, he’d just avoid the pet whenever he saw them. One day in particular, when the dog spotted him, it ran after him at full speed, causing Mammon to shriek and sprint away with colorful language. He’s the fastest demon so he got away just fine, but he could still hear them clawing at the door.

On the search to find their dog, just to find them sulking at Mammon’s door, MC went inside to find him curled up in the backseat of one of his cars. They dragged him out and sat him on his bed and slowly introduced the two to each other. MC’s dog had just been chasing him because they wanted to play. Mammon knew that, for sure, totally.

He’ll make sure to give both pets plenty of toys to make sure he doesn’t become their next one. 

Levi

Pets that had fur instead of scales? And they weren’t named Henry? MC was a typical Normie. 

He’d appreciate both of them from a distance, the last thing he wants is hair on his figures and in his equipment. He shudders to remember when he cleaned out his keyboard after the Cat Incident.

He does love that MC has pets though, don’t get him wrong. He’ll reminisce about all the fond memories he had about all his Henrys. He and MC will share fun pet stories and gush over photos.

He’ll eventually allow MC to try to acquaint him with their pets, but he’s not sure how well it will go since he has too many bad memories of Cerberus chasing him, snarling at him, ruining an entire manga collection. And cats love fish, what if they get their claws on his precious Henry?! 

It surprisingly went okay, he enjoys now trying to get MC’s dog to do cool tricks that he’s seen in anime. As for the cat, Levi often finds them in his room, tail flicking as they closely watch and gently swat at the fish that swim by. He also tends to find them curled up on his warm consoles. There’s something comforting about having a little companion while he plays his games, something his fish can’t always give him. 

Satan

Cat?? MC has a cat?? Lucifer banned him from bringing cats into the house, so the fact that MC had one meant that he could pay attention to them all he wanted, and Lucifer couldn’t prevent him from doing so.

His brothers were idiots to try and immediately lay hands on the cat. He had read about feline behavior and knew that you let the cat decide to initiate contact if they’re particularly scared of people.

So he’d get the kitty used to him first, by going into MC’s room and making sure it was obvious he was friendly with the owner. And then he’d just sit there in silence and read for hours, making sure they were now used to his presence.

It took a few days of patience but then he finally watched in glee as the small cat padded over to him warily, smelling him and making sure he wasn’t dangerous. Satan slowly held his hand out, making sure that the cute thing nuzzled against his fingers first before he would gently scratch under their chin.

His other brothers now looked at him in awe as Satan now often had the cat in his lap while he read, while most of them couldn’t even get close.

He didn’t quite bond with the dog, but he did occasionally give the pup a pat on the head. 

Asmo

He’s not really a pet person, like, at all. Hair all over his clothes? Constantly smelling like an animal, and not in the way he’s usually used to? No thank you! He could’ve understood if it was a cute dog you could keep in a purse or an elegant cat that made the owner look like royalty, but they were neither.

But, much to even his own surprise, he came around to them. Enthusiastically so, even, much to the shock of the House of Lamentation. It started with just pictures of them. Cats and dogs do great on Devilgram and this could be a good opportunity to show people he has a secret side.

His profile skyrocketed, which was impressive since he’s already immensely popular. His beautiful face night near these cute creatures gets him even more likes than before.

Before MC knows it, somehow he has their dog trained to sit and pose for the camera. He’ll even buy special collars and cute little accessories for the pets, making sure they look super cute for all of their photo-shoots, not as much as he is but close enough.

If the cat ever scratches him he’ll ensure MC makes up for it by giving his wound a kiss.

Beel

Beel is a puppy himself, let’s be honest. MC finds it incredibly cute how alike they are. They’re both big, strong, and intimidating, but when you get to know both of them, they’re loyal, lovable, and precious. 

He gets along great with both of the animals. The cat would scratch him to heaven and back, but he didn’t budge, and sooner than later the kitty warmed up to him. They would oftentimes treat him like a climbing post, clawing their way up his body just to stand on his shoulders, but he didn’t mind. 

As for the dog, it started off by stalking Beel, playfully of course. It didn’t stop any of the brothers from having a mini heart attack, though, as they watched MC’s huge intimidating dog slowly making their way across the hall, haunches ready to strike. The dog could play-bite him, tug at his clothes, and jump on him all they wanted to, he was unbothered. He’d even share some of his food with them.

Beel and the dog would even play-wrestle, it was great for both of them as they would expel their energy and spend more time together. And of course MC would bring both of them plenty of treats for being good. 

Belphie

He doesn’t like dogs, they’re too loud and rambunctious. Not to mention high maintenance. He prefers cats given the chance, but even sometimes they’re still too much work. 

He did make an attempt to pet the cat, only for it to attack as soon as it got the chance. It left a big hole in his favorite pillowcase. He was offended. It was supposed to be friendly, cute, and cuddly, and yet it struck back and attacked him immediately. The irony was lost on him.

MC decided that they wanted the two to get along since they were sure they would be best buds given the chance. 

When Belphie went to go take a nice nap, MC brought their tiny kitty over to his slumbering body, placing them on top of him over his blanket. The cat was tense at first, but he was so warm and comfortable, they stretched out and curled up on him. When Belphie opened his eyes and saw the wide, irresistibly cute eyes staring back at him, he couldn’t move. He just went back to bed.

Now it’s a rare sight when the two aren’t together, taking naps near the fireplace, outside under the stars. He’ll never tell anyone how he now loves to fall asleep to the sound of the cat’s purring.   

[notanotherbookreview]

1969, schoolgirls were ruined. Pre-roe "Normal" sex, where women were made responsible, pre-feminism where woman's destiny was home-maker. Abortion? Banned, Excerpt Mid-century memoir Part 1, notanotherbookreview.blogspot.com

That June, I was one of ten people headed to college out of my class of about 100.  Graduation opened with an original poem by our Student Council President, a popular Black girl. Her reading received much applause, as did the announcement of her full scholarship to an elite university for international studies. The WASP valedictorian, a pretty, shy girl, was our most academically gifted student. With 800s in college boards, she had multiple offers of 4-year scholarships. Unfortunately, her parents forced her to decline. Education would make her unfit to be a good wife--according to her mother.  Ambition shelved, the girl graduated to housework under her mother's guidance. 

We thought this extreme (scholarship money was forfeited) but the ultimate career path for girls was still to become a wife. Home Economics was a required course, no matter how much we might want to learn drafting or woodshop. Girls also had a serious dress code, skirts were measured and slacks forbidden. We saw a dating film in Health, where a girl's duty was "not to give in." Smart girls did not get in compromising situations. Our job was to save the noble (less mature?) male sex from themselves and date with the altar in mind. Girls were blamed for pregnancy, though occasionally boys were pressured to "do the right thing." 

The lives of schoolgirls were routinely ruined, not only by becoming pregnant but the moral judgments of adults. Unable to choose a legal abortion in PA in 1969, meant unless she had a "shotgun" wedding or a family that would pretend it had a new "little sister," she had to give the baby up. Expected to slink away in shame and disgrace before they "showed," was just punishment. Pregnant girls had to leave school and rarely returned. The religious called it "God's will", though many of us girls thought it unfair.  Recently, I read a man's online post  that more unwanted white children empowered the race (not to mention adoption agencies). I learned girls were somehow responsible and expendable.

But were boys really the enemy?  They often alluded knowingly to Playboy asfavorite bathroom reading. I became curious enough to discover my father's hidden stack. In "Party Notes," a section about wild times in Hefner's Mansion, I read an especially instructive story about a Quaalude party. "Wasn't it fun" how girls, honored to be asked to the party, took what was offered? Turned into "living dolls." They provided some entertainment! So while I was holding up the nation's morals by kneeling for my skirt to be measured, men were drugging girls comatose?  

In June 1969, feminism was as foreign to me as the new so-called "Sexual Revolution." In fact, a girl who got drunk and "pulled a train" was marked as a whore for life. (Psychological reasons weren't part of our Puritan ethics.) At my regular lunch table was an intelligent, funny girl, who laughed easily, until one wet fall evening her mom was killed in a car accident. When her father quickly remarried, she was ignored for his new wife and kids. Grief-stricken, my friend passed out in drunken oblivion at some post game event. A line of boys formed to take advantage (as I learned from one who declined the opportunity and threw up). Ostracized at school, condemned at home, she eventually dropped out to become a cocktail waitress; then moved away.

I remember  sad school lunches in social Siberia, listening to her feelings of worthlessness and humiliation. Former friends, especially boys, mocked her relentlessly. Church offered no balm for her "shame."  It is all still familiar. Even in 2022, where male porn is ubiquitous, female sexuality still evokes "slut shaming." Erotica, which briefly in the sixties celebrated the female experience, is all but invisible. The double standard appears unimpeachable, yet for the recent spectacle of women prosecuting men in power for sexual abuse.  Neo-Puritan witch hunts or long-deserved justice?  

When I read about the trials of a generation of Playboy era men, from Harvey Weinstein (2021 indictment) to Bill Cosby,  I wondered if they were confused about changes in cultural rules.  "Mad Men" had it right. "No means yes!" Power was an aphrodisiac. Women were a perk of authority.  Now, suddenly, women were expecting redress?  I wanted to see the legal prosecution as a step forward, but...why was Hefner lauded at the time of his funeral (2017), as a great cultural thinker-- while his disciples would soon be indicted?  

The sexual divide was extreme in my 1969. In 2022, there's social dissonance as conservative powers (male and female) work to subjugate women. What is the fear of equality? How are men 'desexed,' when women share prerogatives once associated only with male freedom? When boys risked lives in illegal drag racing, looked for disturbed girls to pull trains with, got crazy drunk and beat each other up, the solution was--sports. This safe outlet for  "normal male energy" was also made the focus of high school life. (Girls basketball was a joke except for those of us who played when we could get a space .) Girls were supposed to cheer or bake goodies -- though some worthies volunteered as candy-stripers in hospitals, or actually found after school jobs. 

Rebellion through clothes was an option.  I had babysitting money and took the subway surface car "Downtown," finding freedom in Mary Quant striped mini dresses. Unknown in our demure land of pastel sweator sets, these dresses of electric lime green, purple and orange earned me respect. A little notoriety went with dangling earrings. Everyone knew they were worn by whores, my "weirdness" made that impossible. You could remake yourself with clothes. Twiggy had. My friend and I used wax paper and ironed our hair straight.

Another challenge to social limits, interracial dating, also happened in my 1969, though not condoned by any communities. A girl from a financially struggling White family regularly snuck out to see her more affluent Black boyfriend.  When discovered, his parents quickly transferred him to a private high school, though her folks looked the other way. Trading up by marriage was considered using one's assets ("Mad Men" got this right.) When marriage is a career, it's the obvious path. 

In our borough, founded on WW2's optimism and industrial build-up, there was no end in sight for a boom economy. Anyone willing to do an honest day's work had a financial future.  Of course this excluded women, whose unpaid home-bound work was meant to benefit their families. But typing was a required course, it opened a business career to women with a fast and accurate wpm. 

In June of 1969, for the college bound minority, graduation was a series of fast announcements of academic awards and scholarships. The main celebration was for the savvy kids graduating Vo-Tech. Vocational-Technical students apprenticed with local businesses. One young woman, halfway to her beauty license, had a chair waiting at a beauty salon. Another had a bookkeeping position in a real estate firm. Our most successful male grad was a talented auto mechanic, who had flunked a grade. (Quick to learn the new car electronics, he eventually serviced the tri-state area with his own shop.) 

Unmentioned were the disappeared, those repeating the grade or the pregnant, like the Home Ec teacher's daughter and my friend from drag-racing double dates. Though we had desperately solicited money to go to New York to get her an abortion, it wasn't enough. The girl with an amazing photographic memory practiced denial. She hid college acceptances, wearing ever larger sweatshirts. That was just the "way of the world

[baodurs]

i filled out this super cool button character profile by @extraordinarymage for sabrina! thank you for making this, it was a lot of fun to fill out <3 the bulk of it is under a cut and oh boy is it long !!!

Short, Quick Reference

Name: Sabrina Wiseman

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Love Interest: Kent

Main personality trait: Confidence

Secondary personality trait: Morbidity

Relationship with Nick: Full of love, haunted by unaddressed guilt and frustration. But mostly full of love.

Nickname for Nick: Saint Nick (used sparingly)

Resentful or accepting?: Slightly resentful

Main strategy (interpersonal, insightful, innovative?): Insightful

Ethical or expedient?: Expedient

GENERAL

Name: Sabrina Larkspur Wiseman

Nickname(s): Sab, used by anyone; Sabby, only Nick and Sally; and, of course, Button for Nick.

Birthday: I think I made her an October Libra for the purpose of a template I did months ago, but I’m not sure! No concrete birthday yet, I’m always very slow to nail down details like this.

Age: 20

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bisexual

Hair color + style: Blonde. A little past shoulder length, sometimes wavy. Usually a middle part. For Aeon, tied back in a bun.

Eye color: Blue, entirely because of the section of Frank O’Hara’s “Meditations in an Emergency” that goes, “My eyes are vague blue, like the sky...”

Height: 5′5

Piercings: Multiple in each ear, but a couple have started to close.

Tattoos: None yet! Sab likes the idea of a tattoo but is worried about finding the perfect design, whether she’d end up hating it, that the pain might be greater than she expects and she’ll look like a baby in front of her tattoo artist. I’d like to think she eventually consults Sally and/or Glitch to come up with an idea that she falls in love with, but I haven’t come up with what that would be!

Clothing style: Mostly solid colors, not a lot of patterns. Nothing super bright, but a fairly varied mix of pastels, neutrals, dark colors, black. Partial to denim skirts and sweater tops. Ankle boots. Likes a good turtleneck. She’s bolder when it comes to formal wear, and especially loves suits. Big fan of silk and satin.

Since she has a pretty accurate face claim, I’ll link some gifsets I’ve rb’d for appearance ref if you are so inclined.

STATS

I’m always adjusting minor things and swapping scenes around, but these are from my most recent Sab run! Most scores hover somewhere around these values.

Personality:

Confidence: 53%

Humor: 5%

Morbidity: 22%

Resentful: 57% | Accepting: 43%

Strategy:

Interpersonal: 12%

Insightful: 50%

Innovative: 10%

Ethical: 43% | Expedient: 57%

KEY DECISIONS:

What is Nick’s nickname and why?: Saint Nick, used very rarely. It’s a joking reference to the time she thought Santa was an evil Ment out to ruin Christmas, and a point about Nick overdoing it with the cheer. “Saint Nick” is usually code for “I know you mean well, but please mind your own business.” Otherwise, she just calls him Nick.

What is their favorite type of cookie (and its name and why?): Salted caramel chocolate chip! No special name.

What was their initial reaction to Sally hugging them, as kids?: She just froze. That could just be me projecting adult Sabrina onto her childhood self; I don’t imagine that she was as uncomfortable around strangers or quite as cautious back then. But that’s what I’ll stick with.

How did they ace the ASE test?: The in-game option she takes is “My entire life has revolved around strategic avoidance,” but the one about being just plain smart also sounds like her. If Sab has the chance to thoroughly (over)prepare for something, she will do it. Her mind blindness also has her constantly (over)analyzing situations. So, hard work and relentless anxiety!

Did they manage to win their first assignment? How?: Yes, by having Sally block the door. I’ve headcanoned some slight differences in how it plays out, which I wrote about in-depth here. To summarize, Sab thinks of blocking the door as a desperate last resort, not a clever loophole, and she pushes back against Rosy’s praise because she wishes she could have done it the “real” way. Rosy goes from being impressed to being annoyed that she’s willfully missing the point.

What was the primary emotion Button felt during the Aeon bombing (love, gratitude, etc?): Guilt. She feels very guilty about how much Nick has given up for her in general, but I think that in the moment, it’s on a smaller scale. The fact that Nick was on the phone with her when it happened, coming to her rescue like always, becomes emblematic of their whole relationship for her, and she really fixates on that.

Who drove them home from the hospital from and why?: Glitch. Sab responds to her initial text with “Are you sure?”, and is relieved when Glitch takes that as “Yes, please.” She doesn’t relish the idea of being around someone more connected to her family or Nick at that point.

How do they feel about Nick riding around in their mind?: Worried, at first. Just because it’s so unknown and absolutely insane. After seeing Doctor Amari, she’s excited! Sab is thrilled to be a Pollard Five and intends to take full advantage of it. I am not looking forward to seeing how she reacts when that’s taken away from her.

Why did Button agree to do the undercover mission?: To prove she still deserves to be an MIV. Sabrina feels stupid and reckless for putting herself, Nick, and Aeon in this position, but she knows she’s smart, and she hasn’t worked this hard for nothing. She wants to prove what she could do with a normal Pollard Score and make herself too valuable to give up even when she’s back to Zero.

Told Glitch about your mind blindness?: Depends on the playthrough. I’m constantly going back and forth on whether Sab meets Glitch for coffee or wanders the city with Nick in her second chapter 5 slot (after trying to track down Kent). If she does meet Glitch, though, she absolutely tells her; with how touchy Sab is about privacy, she couldn’t stomach not warning Glitch that Nick could hear everything they said.

Figured out K’s secret?: Nope. She finds enough of the clues to be given the “I knew it!” option in-game, but she didn’t actually put it together. Sab is too angry and embarrassed by learning that Kent is an AMO to find any reason to interrogate it. “The random guy I met before school just happens to be a jerk” is a perfectly sound explanation to her.

Found Noh’s clues?: Not at the metro station. Sometimes she sees the Vengeance brooms in chapter 5 (again, depending on the playthrough), but that’s it.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP:

Love Interest: Kent

Why them?: Sab feels an immediate kinship with Kent after learning about the NPO program. It’s kind of funny how quickly he moves from the least sympathetic position in her eyes (Ment who got past me and read my mind without my knowledge) to the most sympathetic (non-powered child of a prominent family aiming a league above where he “belongs”). A lot of new respect for his competence. Her fate is sealed when she realizes that his kindness at the hospital wasn’t him trying to make up for some wrongdoing, but just him being very sweet. (She had scoffed over “You needed help.” But now she’s like, “Oh. He meant that?! Fuck.”)

As they spend more time together, Sab realizes how weirdly similar they are in other ways, too. And she starts to feel safe/secure around him in a way that she’s extremely not used to. Growing up surrounded by Ments, Sab has a lot of issues about being too much, too difficult, needing to “be worthy” of love. So someone like Kent who is not a Ment, who has no “obligation” to care about her, and whose judgement she trusts implicitly? Being around him and being loved by him mean a lot, and I think will go a long way towards helping her reflect on her other relationships!

What are their first impressions of each other?: Okay, there are like 3 first impressions with Kent. First: he’s tall and handsome and secretly adorable, and they have similar career goals, so she’s drafting a five-month plan to woo him and get his number. Second: he’s a lying, self-obsessed loser who owes her many explanations. Third: oh no, the first impression was true! And he’s been continually, selflessly kind to her in spite of her overt hostility. Scratch the five-month plan, because the crush was only fun when it was entirely superficial; now she really, really likes him and that just sucks.

We know that Button makes a good impression on K by stopping for their dogs, but apart from that... I mean, the “we confused each other” from chapter 7 is very apt. Sab has lots of shifting personas, and Kent sees pretty much every one within 24 hours. The prevailing impression before everything gets cleared up is probably just that she cares a lot? About everything? Her stopping for the dogs, how seriously she takes the first assignment, the way she seems so deeply affected by something he said or did that morning. It’s a rare side of her to meet first because she usually pretends to be above everything.

What feature does your Button find most attractive in their RO (ex. appearance, personality, etc.)?: Probably his composure. And his... steadfastness? The way he seems unruffled by anything, his soothing presence. She really admires that about him and finds the calm contagious.

What do they do to spend time together?: Going on drives together! Kent driving while Sab plays songs she thinks he’ll like, talking or not talking. Cuddling on the couch while reading their own separate books. Museum dates. Walking the dogs together.

Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: I imagine that the first month or so of their relationship would be difficult, just because they’re both bad at expressing themselves and not used to relying on other people. Kent kind of negates a lot of Sab’s impulses to get defensive or hostile, so instead of arguments, I think there are more likely to be awkward periods where she’s just stewing in something without addressing it. Most of their fights would be, like, one of them becoming really distant for a concerning number of days until the other tries to awkwardly check in on them.

What does their future look like?: Uhh some random lore: I think eventually they do get married, despite neither of them caring that much about it. Sabrina would be excited to have something to plan, and she knows it would make the people around her happy. They have a long engagement; there’s never really an “official” proposal, just an acknowledgement that yeah, they’ll get married one day, and then eventually they get rings. The engagement is almost Sab’s favorite part, honestly. She likes planning and showing off her ring and calling Kent her fiancé, a lot of fanfare on her part for a wedding that ends up being very modest and chill.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS (Feel free to go in depth!)

Relationship with Nick: When I first started developing Sab, I thought that with as difficult/prickly as she can be, her relationship with Nick would be worse than it is. Never bad, but certainly strained, with more jealousy/resentment on her side. However, she rejected this. She is resentful, but never towards Nick—she internalizes the negative parts of their relationship so they manifest as guilt instead. And that’s the problem, not resentment. Sab thinks he’s overprotective, but that doesn’t make her angry; it just makes her sad. She wishes things were different and he didn’t feel so responsible for her, but she also doesn’t know how she could manage without him taking on so many of her burdens. So, guilt! So much love, but always looming guilt.

Having Nick in her head has helped. It’s added a new kind of guilt (“I’m a horrible person for being so giddy that people can’t hear my thoughts even though that requires my brother to be in a coma”), but getting inside Nick’s head for once and really feeling his love for her changes things. Makes her feel way more secure, I guess? It’s easier to see her brother as human person, a friend who loves her, rather than a perfect selfless paragon who sacrificed everything to raise her, which is an important shift.

There are also Things happening with self-presentation in the fact that they’re both models, and flirts, and pretend to be shallow. And the ways that they’ve responded to vastly different expectations. And selflessness versus selfishness. But I have no idea how to talk about that yet.

Relationship with Father: Strained and distant. Sabrina doesn’t necessarily blame him for leaving, but she hates how he’s handled it. She’s incredibly frustrated that John insists on keeping them in this miserable limbo of uncomfortable visits, even though moving away was (to her) a tacit acknowledgement that she and her parents are better off without each other. He’s trying to force a relationship that Sab thinks is ultimately harmful for everyone involved. For Nick’s sake, she’s willing to grin and bear the visits, but it never works because John can obviously tell it’s an act. He pushes her, she gets defensive, and so on to infinity.

Relationship with Mother: Like with John, Sab doesn’t resent Hope for the incident itself, or for leaving afterward. It was terrifying, and the idea of being around Hope makes her panic—but she thinks of that as just another irrational anxiety symptom, and she’s trying to work through it. What she does resent Hope for is letting it get to that point at all. Sab is incredibly bitter that Hope will suffer silently to the point of almost killing her (during the incident) and potentially herself (with the BRS), while Sab has no choice but to be completely open. Especially because they’re so similar in that way—she’s almost jealous. “Oh, so your silence is allowed to almost kill me and it’s ‘nobody’s fault’ but I can’t pretend to enjoy a single lunch with Dad without him calling me out for lying?”

And even though she doesn’t hold the incident itself against her, Sab is very hung up on “Why are you never quiet? Why are you always there?” She knows, on some level, that this was not a Personal Judgement against her. But because Hope keeps so much quiet, this is the only honest expression of her mother’s feelings that she can remember! It would take a lot for Sab to believe that Hope was really, genuinely interested in reconnecting with her, rather than just pretending to love her "enough” this time because to do otherwise would reflect poorly on Hope as a mother.

Relationship with Sally: Besties <3 Sally is the only member of the Wiseman inner circle that Sab doesn’t have complicated feelings about. They both have hidden morbid streaks that they bring out in each other, and can laugh about. They both have competitive streaks that work well together because they’re always on the same team. And their wants/needs from the relationship complement each other well, I think. Sally has always felt valued because she’s useful and not because she’s loved, while Sab has always felt smothered by love/care without feeling like she genuinely adds value to other people’s lives. So it means a lot to both of them that they’re able to help each other practically, while also genuinely loving and supporting each other outside of that.

Relationship with Gray: Full of trust and genuine care, but predicated on distance. Sab loves him a lot for being so careful not to cross any boundaries, physical or emotional, with her. She’s grateful that he’s there for Nick in a way that she doesn’t feel she can be. But "I like Gray because he doesn’t push me and is good to Nick” means that any hand he extend makes her defensive, because she’ll either view him as an emissary of Nick or start to panic because their normal routine is being disrupted (she doesn’t tell him about Hope in ch 3, for example).

They get along very well in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way, and bond over being cautious counterparts to Nick. Also, Sab never had a crush on Gray, but she is not immune to tall superhero and thinks it’s fun to fake flirt with him. (You know Isabela’s “You have pretty eyes” routine from DA2? Sab does that to Gray when conversations steer towards things she’d rather not talk about.)

Relationship with Glitch: I’m really excited about these two! They click from the start, and Sabrina feels immediately comfortable around Glitch, which makes her feel distinctly uncomfortable whenever she catches herself. Externally, they have pretty different personalities, but they’re both perceptive and... socially manipulative? aware of their self-presentation?... in ways that they both pick up on right away. So it’s a lot of conversational maneuvering and trying to figure out what the other’s game is, while also genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

Relationship with Kent/Kenna: I could go truly insane here. See the romance section above instead.

Relationship with Kim: Sab wants him to like her sooooo bad. He’s one of the only people to ever really get through to her, re: my headcanon conversation after the first assignment. Authority figures tend to treat her as special, whether that’s negatively because of her mind blindness or positively because she’s such an overachiever. She had no idea how to respond to that not being the case (and didn’t handle it well at first), but chapter 6 solidifies her respect for him.

It also turns Rosy’s opinion of Sab around; he was impressed by her in class but left his office thinking she was self-absorbed and naive. But the bombing is a reality check, and her response is very measured and practical in a way that surprises him.

Relationship with Lev: She doesn’t mind the comparisons to Nick or the “maybe one day they’ll fix you” comments as much as you might think. They aren’t her favorite, but she prefers that sort of thing to the inspirational platitudes belied by coddling that she got from her family growing up. Sab has fond memories of Lev and is grateful that he’s always been kind to her, but doesn’t have any particular feelings apart from that.

Relationship with Clarence: Holds a grudge against him for causing a scene, making her late, and generally being a jerk. But she can’t fault him for being right, after what happened! Mostly she just wants to avoid him, but she’ll be thrilled to lord her success over him if/when she proves herself.

Relationship with Dean Branham: Like Rosy, another authority figure that Sab desperately wants to impress. But without the personal investment she has in Rosy’s validation, more “Oh, this person is in charge, so I should make her like me!” Despite Nick’s and Rosy’s reservations, Sabrina doesn’t really have a problem with being “strongarmed” or manipulated into cooperating; for now, she figures Branham was just doing her job and respects her tactics.

Relationship/attitude towards Ments in general: Mostly just uncomfortable and wary around them. Sab doesn’t want her mind read, and she figures that no Ment wants to be forced to read it either. So she has a pretty strict “no Ments” rule for close personal relationships (excluding Nick, Sally, and Gray, of course. But only Nick really counts because he’s the only one who can hear her thoughts whenever she’s nearby). Not out of hatred or resentment, just because she knows it will be easier for everyone in the long run.

Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): Not many, but yes! Sab dated around a lot in the 2 years before Aeon (more like year and a half, because she completely shut it down once she was more focused on preparing for the MIV program), but there are 2 relationships that were formative/important for her. A high school sweetheart, and someone Sab met through modeling. She doesn’t keep up with her high school ex, but the model is her best friend outside of Sally and Nick, and they still keep in touch! I’m still developing them/the relationships, and I’ll probably post more about them someday. They’re fun!

PERSONAL BIO

Describe their personality: Confusing and contradictory. She has two main modes that confuse people who meet both (e.g., Kent). She’s either cold, stuck-up, and sometimes hostile, OR she’s charming, frivolous, and sometimes flirty. Mode 1 is tense but stoic and inexpressive; mode 2 is seemingly relaxed but very posed and insincere. Mode 1 is for when she feels uncertain or has no agenda apart from “get to point B”; mode 2 is for when she’s more comfortable or trying to manipulate someone. Her actual personality is a bit closer to the second, but she doesn’t pretend not take things seriously or hide when she’s annoyed.

Strengths: Analytical, methodical, detail-oriented. Very driven and hardworking. May not always act like it, but does have social skills/charisma; a great liar, if you can’t read her mind. Unfailingly loyal and loving to her favorite people, so so so warm and affectionate and supportive if she really loves you. Very perceptive.

Weaknesses: Way too proud. Can be petty and vindictive. Self-absorbed (she doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s hard for her to see past herself sometimes). Stubborn, hates being wrong. And... emotional isn’t the word, but strong negative emotions can really cloud her judgement. It ties into her being proud, petty, and stubborn; if she’s really upset about something, she can cling to that emotion instead of re-evaluating it or moving forward.

Phobias: From this ask about the phobias that are planned to show up in-game, there are a few that I could see fitting Sab, but I want to wait to see how they’re implemented before I fully commit. Which is very metagame-y, I know (and I am very metagame-y about IF), but “fear of X” is so broad that it really does depend on when/how it manifests in the text.

That being said, agoraphobia is almost a lock; crowds do make Sab very anxious if she can’t keep track of everyone within a certain distance, and if she can’t leave when she starts feeling antsy. Claustrophobia is a maybe. The choice that triggers it (in chapter 4, about hating MRI machines) suits Sab, but I’m not sure if she hates MRI machines because she hates tight spaces, or if it’s more related to her general anxiety about hospitals, medical tests, etc. Which she definitely has!

What activities/club did they do in school?: She avoided anything group-oriented as far as possible. She took piano (maybe violin?) lessons and did recitals, but wasn’t in orchestra. The one exception was maybe National Honor Society or some equivalent, which she would have joined for her resume’s sake. And I think she would have tutored!

Where do they escape to when they need space?: A little used library corner, where she can people watch without being seen/heard.

How do they feel about/cope with their mind blindness?: Sab hates it but tries not to dwell on it. She knows that it’s no one’s fault, and she mainly just tries to... minimize it? Drown out her thoughts, limit her contact with Ments. And, least healthily, very rigidly managing herself. Because there’s so much of her that exists outside of herself, without her control, she tries to either filter or completely suppress everything else. Part of why she got into modeling, she can perform and be perfect and have total control over the final product of her body in the photographs for whatever campaign. Some Day This Will Be Better. But definitely not where she is in current canon.

How has your Button changed since the Incident with Hope?: Developed many new anxieties and disorders and syndromes :) She also became way more self-conscious, as in literally conscious of and way more tightly monitoring herself, what she’s thinking, what she’s expressing, how she’s sitting, etc. Less emotive face, more rigid posture.

If they weren’t an Aeon student, what would they be doing?: Sab would have beaten herself up forever if she “proved everyone right” by avoiding Unity/Ments entirely, so she’d want to stay in the family business somehow. She probably would have ended up doing scientific research on mental agility. Maybe even working for Mirrortech or some other biotech company, which I imagine would have been an interesting conversation to have with the family.

RANDOM FACTS:

Zodiac sign: Like I said, I assigned her Libra months ago for the sake of a template. But I don’t know enough about astrology to commit. Libra or Leo, probably.

Hobbies: Music, reading poetry, “cooking” (i.e., sitting on the counter and not helping while Nick makes dinner)

Likes: Watching other people (Nick) play video games, dressing up, taking long showers/baths, dark chocolate with caramel, back hugs

Dislikes: Being patronized, hot weather, going to the doctor, driving, doing anything she is not good at

Type of bedsheets: Bamboo.

Drink of choice: Cucumber mint lemonade! For hot drinks, some kind of caramel coffee. For alcohol, she refuses to get drunk because she’s terrified of having even less control of her mental broadcast, but at home/around people she trusts she’ll have a glass or two of wine. Doesn’t know enough to be picky, but doesn’t like it too sweet.

Favorite food: Probably some pasta dish Nick makes with asparagus and tomatoes and a lot of garlic.

Favorite color: Like a light turquoise!

Favorite music: Music to her was another mind-shielding tactic before anything else, so she tends to like upbeat-ish electronic/pop stuff. Catchy and repetitive, and/or with lots of personality to drown out her own thoughts. On the other end of the spectrum, she does have a soft spot for crackly, lo-fi, old or old-sounding slow songs—something about fuzzy recordings simulating a weak telepathic signal.

Favorite season: Hmm, spring and autumn are both good. She likes either side of winter.

Anything else you’d like to share: My heart and a long, fulfilling marriage, with anyone who reads all this 💍

[thewayshedreamed]

Side Bar

An Elriel fic

This fic is set in the “This Time” Nessian AU— Starting with Elain’s birthday party from Part 3. Here’s the back story of those texts that haunted Elain, how the conversation with Azriel went, and mention of the eventual date that Nesta interrupted in Part 6 😉

You can catch up on This Time here!

A/N: It only took an eternity for me to finish this chapter. It’s the first thing I’ve posted that’s Elriel-centric, so I found myself deleting/re-writing to try and get it right. Eventually, I had to cut myself off and just put myself out there, so I hope y’all like how I’ve written them! Shoutout to @keshavomit and @acourtofmarauders whose comments inspired me to share this!!

——————————————————————————

Once Nesta dropped her off at her apartment post birthday breakfast, Elain drew herself a hot bubble bath. She hoped the warm water would ease her achy muscles and her unsteady nerves; both from the night before. It wasn’t that she had completely blacked out. She remembered the majority of the night, with only the time after her body started to succumb to exhaustion being a little fuzzy.

She lay back onto the back of the tub, taking a deep breath of eucalyptus scented bubbles and easing her eyes closed. She couldn’t help but reflect over the night, heart swelling with love for her family and friends who had truly made her 23rd birthday one to remember. It was increasingly rare that every one of them were able to get together on the same night, and she was feeling extra loved that they made it out just for her.

She had a few laughs to herself as the memories ran through her mind. She thought of her and Feyre dancing for hours, being joined by the others on and off throughout the night. Cassian grabbing her hand when Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” came through the speakers, spinning her around and singing loudly with her. Her friends keeping her drinks full and making her laugh. Being so excited that Nesta finally joined them for a couple of songs. Spinning into Azriel accidentally and hearing his deep laugh as he steadied her.

And just like that, her thoughts hanged on Azriel; like they always seemed to. She was no moron. She knew they had a natural sort of chemistry, but she always struggled to tell if he truly saw her that way or if he would ever be open to her. She was struck with a memory of him from the night before, something that hadn’t come back to her until now.

——————————————————————————

Somehow, she had ended up near the edge of the dance floor, semi-cornered near a table by Grayson. She remembered being so annoyed that he’d been there and even more annoyed that he was insisting on polite conversation. She wanted to yell at him that she knew he didn’t give a shit how she was doing and that he had no right to know after he’d wrecked her heart a couple of years prior. She wanted to swat at his hands when he would laugh and playfully touch her or reach for her. The alcohol in her system was begging her to do all of it, and she was almost completely convinced. Just one more touch or one more attempt at familiarity, and it was game over. She steeled herself, waiting, until a pair of arms wrapped gently around her waist from behind.

“There you are, love.” Azriel’s smooth, deep voice ran over her, and she relaxed immediately.

He was closer than usual, more affectionate. She realized the show they were supposed to be putting on, and she leaned into him. She rested her head back on his chest, and turned her chin way up to look into his face. He was looking down at her, mere inches away, with amusement sparkling in his hazel eyes.

“Hey,” she breathed, lamely, if she was being honest with herself. She felt the impression of cool glass in her hand and looked down.

”Sorry it took me so long to grab your drink. The bar was really backed up.”

She looked down at the half-empty glass in her hand. Definitely his existing drink. She decided to give him a little hell. Why not? They were pretending, anyway.

“Babe. It’s half-empty,” she pointed out through a laugh.

He narrowed his eyes at her playfully, telling her he knew she was being difficult. “I may or may not have gotten thirsty on my way back to find you.”

“Az, you remember Grayson.” She gestured toward her ex as she spoke. When he looked up, she noticed the tension in his jaw.

“Of course. How are you, man?” He released her waist with one hand, extending it toward Grayson. Grayson only looked at it, ignored it completely, and addressed Elain.

”Really? This guy? You’re better than that.” She felt Azriel tense behind her. Grayson gripped her upper arm, pulling her toward him. “You can’t be fucking serious, Elain. Guys like him are good for one thing. Maybe you can have a few good rolls around in the sheets, but you can’t honestly expect to settle down with a guy like him.”

All too quickly, Azriel’s large hand gripped Grayson’s wrist where he was holding Elain’s arm. There was a layer of darkness to his tone that Elain had never heard.

“Get your fucking hand off of her. Now.” He gripped Grayson harder in warning, but Grayson’s eyes stayed on Elain’s.

“Elain, come on,” Grayson said.

She was fuming. His company had been unwelcome from the beginning. He’d been far too comfortable entering her personal space. He had openly insulted Azriel on multiple levels. He was manhandling her. The words left her before she could stop them, the alcohol delighting that it finally got its way.

“Even if you’re right, he’s the best fuck I’ve ever had and has ruined me for anyone else. So allow me to indulge myself for as long as I feel like it,” she seethed.

Grayson’s eyes widened and quickly narrowed in anger. Nevertheless, his grip on her arm softened, and Azriel shoved his arm back toward his body. He shook his head and walked away, totally speechless.

“You okay, Ellie?” Azriel was in front of her now, looking down into her face. He was running the back of his fingers up and down her arms, and she cursed the goosebumps that erupted over her skin.

“Yeah. I really am. Thank you for coming over. You didn’t have to do that,” she said. She glanced up at him and watched his features soften when he realized she was serious. Shortly thereafter, he started laughing.

“Elain, you can’t just go around saying things like that about me. Word will travel, and I may not live up to people’s expectations,” he joked.

She groaned, feeling guilty that she had completed objectified him without his consent. She leaned into him, resting her forehead on his chest for a couple of seconds before looking at him again.

“I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what got into me. I just felt like humbling him a little, and I didn’t like how he was talking about you.”

Azriel laughed as he pulled her into a hug, his forearm braced around her neck.

“No apologies, Ellie. Come on. I owe you a drink; you know, a fresh one.”

——————————————————————————

Elain’s eyes popped open, and despite the heat of the bath water, she felt herself flush further at the memory. He hadn’t seemed bothered, but holy shit. Who would take it upon themselves to call someone “the best fuck they’ve ever had” when they’d never so much as hugged long enough to be considered intimate? Gods above.

She was obsessively thinking about her deleted messages again. She grabbed her phone off the side of the tub, hoping that when she opened her messages app, all of her texts would magically reappear. They didn’t, just as they hadn’t the other 15 times she’d done it that day.

She removed the plug from the bathtub, letting the water out and begging it to take all her memories along with it. She toweled off, put her lazy Sunday clothes on, and padded out of the bathroom.

She was startled by her phone ringing and dragging her back to the present. To her absolute horror, Azriel’s name flashed on her screen.

She steadied herself before she answered. She was glad to hear that her voice sounded as if she were a perfectly stable person.

“Hello?”

”Hey, Ellie. How you feeling today?” he teased.

Hungover. Fucking mortified.

”About how you would imagine,” she laughed. “What’s up?”

”I wanted to check in on you. And I wanted to see when you would have some free time to meet up. I still have your gift,” he explained.

Of course he’d gotten her a gift. Because he was wonderful. And she’d treated him like a glorified escort. She answered him before she lost her nerve.

”Oh. You didn’t have to do that, Az,” she paused. “What about now? You could come by?”

It took him a couple of seconds to respond. “Um, sure. Yeah. You know, it doesn’t have to be today, though. I didn’t mean to impose or anything.”

Shit. Was she too eager? To hell with it if she was. Waiting would kill her.

”You’re not! Really. I’m just being a bum on my couch today. I’d like the company,” she replied.

——————————————————————————

After about thirty minutes, Elain was convinced she was being stood up. Maybe he didn’t have the heart to tell her he wasn’t wanting to see her today. She was about to draft a text to him before she heard his knock on her apartment door.

“Come in!” she called. She had unlocked her door during her fitful pacing minutes ago.

He poked his head in before opening the door and stepping inside. The sunshine flowed into the apartment behind him, and for a second, she was almost convinced that he was superhuman. His dark hair was damp and brushed haphazardly to the side, and she couldn’t help thinking about how unfairly attractive he was. He was wearing a black v-neck with black jogger sweats, and his scent of cedar and mist washed over her as he plopped on her couch.

“You look way too alive and well today. Seems a little unfair,” she pouted.

He breathed a laugh as he turned toward her. “Some of us drank water throughout the night, birthday girl,” he teased as he tapped her nose with his index finger.

“Hey!” she exclaimed in faux annoyance. “I drank water. Maybe it was today, but I did.”

He tapped her knee with his hand, and she swore she felt it throughout her entire body.

”I’ll be nice. I’m here bearing gifts, after all,” he replied.

She thought back to the night before. The memory of their bit with Grayson, her deleted texts. She thought of Nesta’s words of advice that morning to ask him about the only remaining text she had: his reply. It was now or never, she supposed.

”Before you give me my present...” She bit her lip. “...can I talk to you?”

She watched his eyes land on her lips and jump immediately to her meet her stare. His brows furrowed in concern.

“Of course, Ellie. About anything. You okay?” His words, so similar to those he asked her last night, flooded her nerves all over again.

“I woke up this morning to a really confusing text from you. Not that what you said is confusing necessarily, but apparently, I deleted all of my texts last night. I must have done it right before you responded, so I have zero context to our conversation.” She could feel the heat of her blush on her chest, her neck, her face. She wanted to be literally anywhere else. She showed him the text for frame of reference.

Azriel: 😂 Not cool. You had me worried there for a minute, Ellie. Goodnight. Hope you enjoyed your birthday.

She watched his eyes scan the text, his lips spreading into a small smile. He wasn’t speaking soon enough for her liking.

”Oh. That. We had been texting a little at the table right before you left, but at some point between you standing to leave and getting home, you sent me this.” He scrolled through his phone until he landed on her message. He turned it to her so that she could read it for herself.

Ellie: I’m v mad at you Az

Another one, several minutes later.

Ellie: Nvm talked to Nessie. We’re good. Night 😘

Cauldron, Elain. Kiss emoji, really?

The only other message was his response that she’d already shown him.

She shook her head. “I have no idea what that’s about. What was I saying before that?”

Now it was Azriel’s turn to blush, the tips of his ear turning a faint pink. “Oof. I don’t know if sober me feels as bold as the drunk me in those. I think I’ll just keep those tucked away.”

She blinked at him and his nerve to insinuate he was going to keep them from her.

“Azriel Spion. You better show me those texts.”

”Mm. Don’t think I will, Elain Archeron.” His blush spread to his cheeks.

She lunged for his phone, but he dodged her at the last second. He lifted it into the air out of her reach, her body sprawled across his lap. Elain with less adrenaline would have been mortified to find herself there, but this was critical information. She pushed herself back onto her knees, reaching for the phone in his outstretched hand. He evaded her yet again.

”Why are you so giant? For the love of the Mother, just let me see!” she exclaimed.

”No! It’s not my fault you deleted yours,” he retorted.

She knew she would never be able to overpower him, and he was too stubborn for her to talk him into giving in. She landed on torture, hoping it would work in her favor.

She stopped reaching for his phone and instead turned her hands to his torso. His position left his underarms wide open, and she took her chance, hoping he was ticklish. Otherwise, this would only be even more awkward than it already was.

To her absolute delight, Azriel yelped in surprise. He immediately snapped his arms to his sides as he tried, and failed, to hold back his loud laugh. He tried to move away or grip her hands, but doing so would mean he would have to shift his arms. His body wouldn’t allow it.

“Elain!” he bellowed. “Stop it. I said STOP.” He let out another loud belly laugh, and Elain fell a little bit harder at the sound. It was one of the most precious things she had ever seen. Azriel, who was always so reserved, so dry, letting out such a loud, deep laugh felt like an honor to witness.

”Not until you show me those texts! They’re just as much mine as there are yours!” She had to raise her voice over his laughter, the words coming out through laughter of her own.

“You didn’t keep yours,” he said through clenched teeth between laughs. “Not. My. Problem.”

She pushed her fingers in a little harder, and he yelped again, dissolving into laughter once more.

“Fine! Alright!” he yelled. “You win!”

He tossed his phone on the cushion behind her. She stopped immediately to retrieve it, leaving Azriel spent and gasping for breath next to her.

“You tiny, brutal woman,” he breathed, eyes locked on her.

She waved him off, scrolling up through his messages to the beginning of last night’s conversation. The first messages were mild enough. She thanked him for her birthday drink, for saving her from that conversation with Grayson, for humoring her with a slow dance despite the fact that he wasn’t one to dance much. His responses were polite and friendly, barely on the flirtatious side. She was about to toss his phone into his lap and call him dramatic before her eyes landed on a message that sent her pulse through the roof.

Ellie: That feels nice. Thank you 😊

A: Anything for the birthday girl.

Ellie: I mean, I can’t believe everyone hasn’t offered to play with my hair. Seems a little rude.

A: Very. I guess you’ll have to get new friends.

Ellie: Except you. You have to stay 💕

A: Like I said, anything for you.

She shot her gaze up to look at Azriel. He was watching her with the focus of a surgeon, scanning her face for any reaction. She was doing the same to him. She had a vague, fuzzy memory of sitting next to him in their booth for a portion of the night and assumed that’s when these had occurred. They had likely resorted to texting considering their friends’ nosiness. There were more messages, the time stamp about thirty minutes later.

Ellie: Stop being so nice to me. I’m going to fall in love with you.

A: Promise?

Ellie: 😅 Very funny. You’ve been warned.

The rest were the ones she’d already read about how she was mad at him, whatever that meant. She could hear her own heartbeat; feel her blood pressure in her gums. She knew her blush was at an embarrassing level, and she had to take a couple of deep breaths before she looked at him again. He was still looking at her, an almost pained expression on his face.

She cleared her throat. “So. Did you?”

”Did I what?”

”Stop being nice to me,” she murmured.

”No.”

She locked his phone and handed it back to him as she settled into the cushions. She wanted so badly to close the distance between them, but she knew she’d already pushed him beyond his comfort zone. His answer spoke volumes if she was interpreting him correctly, but she was terrified to find out. She decided to stay the course, keeping the focus on her deleted messages.

“I guess I should check in with Nes. Just to see what I was mad about,” she said quietly.

”I talked to her this morning,” he murmured.

Her eyes locked on his yet again.

”And are you going to tell me?”

”Do I have a choice? You’ll torture it out of me otherwise,” he joked. She was grateful for the laughter as a break in the tension. He cleared his throat.

“You told Nesta you were mad at her, too. When she asked why, you told her it was because she and I are such close friends,” he said. He glanced at her, giving her a chance to react.

“Why would I care about that now? I only know you because of your friendship.” She was so tired of being lost, of being the only one who didn’t know what was happening.

His voice remained quiet and even, as if speaking any louder may scare her away. “You told her it was because I would never look at you. Because you’re her little sister and I was considerate and wouldn’t want to make her mad.”

She swallowed thickly, hoping she looked more put together than she actually was. “And what did she say that made me so quick to drop it?”

That evoked a small laugh and the sound of it made her want to curl into him. “That I’m not scared of her in the slightest,” he began. “And that I was basically the only person she would find worth of you.” His blush deepened as he finished.

She nodded, processing his words. Her mouth was dry, and she was totally speechless. The distance between them was almost painful now, but she was so terrified to make him uncomfortable and potentially ruin their comfortable friendship.

He shifted on her couch, scooting a little closer to her. She was still facing him, her legs curled under her and her elbow settled on the back of the couch. She propped her head on her fist and fixed her gaze on his thigh, an inch away from her knees.

“When I told Nesta that I’d deleted my texts, she told me to talk to you. That you would be understanding.” She glanced up at him. “I basically bit her head off. But it’s because she knew without a doubt that you would understand, isn’t it?”

”She’s known for a long time how I feel, Ellie. Without me having to say a word.”

All she could do was nod. He shifted forward, turning his attention back to the reason he’d come over.

”Az, you really didn’t have to—“ he interrupted her my lifting a scarred finger.

”None of that. I wanted to, and I did.” He placed an envelope in her lap as he ran his hand through his damp hair.

She opened it, scanning small documents inside to figure out what he had gifted her. Two tickets to see the Velaris Philharmonic Orchestra. One of the first true conversations they’d had, she shared with him that she wanted to go one day. With the hustle and bustle of life and the expenses that came with it, she’d never gotten around to it.

True to her sensitive spirit, tears brimmed her lower eyelids. She was so touched that he remembered but simultaneously felt guilty that he’d spent so much on a gift for her.

“You can invite who you want to. I know Nesta has wanted to go, but you can bring a friend, too. I just wanted to make sure you had company. It didn’t feel right to give you a gift where you’d have to go alone.” Her heart melted at his rambling. Azriel never showed his nerves, and he had let that wall down for her several times today.

“Azriel.” She glanced at him, willing him to look at her again. His elbows were resting on his knees and he’d been staring straight ahead as he spoke. He finally turned his head toward her, his onyx hair brushing across his brow. She leaned forward, resting her chin on his shoulder as she took in his elegant bone structure.

“Thank you. I love it more than you know,” she whispered.

His eyes lit up at her words, and her chest squeezed at how much joy it brought him to make her happy. His eyes fell to her lips, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched him wet his own. He brought a scarred hand up to cup her cheek and pulled her face even closer to his, using his thumb to pull her lip from her teeth. She gasped softly, and he pressed his full lips softly to hers. She leaned into him, letting out a small whimper when his grip tightened slightly on her cheek.

Something shifted in him at hearing her whimper into his mouth, and he sat up to orient his body toward hers. He deepened the kiss, then hooked his hand behind her knee to pull her over his lap. She settled into him, moving her hips against his, and he let out a low groan as she moved.

She pulled back from his kiss to look at him, still a little in disbelief that this is where their day had taken them. She ran her fingers through his hair and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. He let out the most indecent moan, and it took everything she had not to slant her mouth over his again.

“What are you doing Thursday?” she asked.

His eyes popped open, still a little glazed over from the heat between them. His hands were under her sweater, thumbs tracing small circles over her ribs.

“No plans, why?”

”A very dear friend of mine gifted me two tickets to see the orchestra, and I’d really like to take you on a date, if that’s okay.”

He smiled at her, his eyes turning up at the corners as he looked at her. “I would say I feel bad for the guy, but there’s no way I’m missing that,” he replied, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. “I’ll be sure to pull out my best suit.”

Her returning smile was so broad, it almost hurt. “Perfect. I can’t wait,” she whispered as she started to rock her hips once more. His lips crashed into hers then, their conversation over for the time being.

Before she lost herself in him completely, she had one fleeting thought as she reflected over their earlier words. “So, did you?”— “Did I what?”— “Stop being nice to me.”— “No.”

It looked like he was hell bent on keeping it that way, and she knew she was beyond screwed.

She was already in love with Azriel Spion, and even still, he was never going to stop being nice to her.

——————————————————————————

Well, there it is! A brief timeline note: Nesta’s phone call falls on that Thursday, during their post-date sleepover. I hope y’all enjoyed it!

Tags (This Time taglist + masterlist):

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling // @sayosdreams // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @b00kworm // @courtofjurdan // @sannelovesreading // @acourtofmarauders // @candice-dick-fit-in-your-mouth // @gisellefigue08 // @girl-who-reads-the-books

[ironxkid]

why don't you like endgame or civil war

((hoo buddy, idk what brought this up but salt under the cut!! Like... a lot of salt - specifically regarding Endgame lmao

I’m gonna start off with CACW because it’s a short response lol

I don’t like it simply because I was done with the infighting between the Avengers. The found family crumbs we were given in Endgame was something I really wanted to see, and them just... ripping them apart frustrated me lol

honestly, the movie was... fine? Idk, I found it to be a lil slow for my taste (it felt like it just dragged on when I watched it in theaters), and I just don’t care for it in general  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, ngl, I’m really bummed that Captain America: Serpent Society was a joke announcement because that sounds dope as hell and I really wanted to see that before I realized it’d been a joke dfgjhdsfhj

but, yeah, literally just because CACW is specifically an infighting movie annoys me to no end so I just won’t watch it again dgsfjhsfdhj

now, Endgame?

fuck Endgame

I. have a lot of issues with it, all of which are major grievances throughout the fandom. I’m pissed they killed Natasha and didn’t even bother giving her a fucking funeral because, I quote from Joe Russo, “Well, Tony does not have another movie. Tony is done. And Natasha has another film. And Marvel Universe obviously does not have to move forward linearly anymore. But that character still has more screen time coming.” (see here) and that annoys the hell out of me. She’s getting another movie - great! So you killed one of the few characters doing her fucking best to keep everything together at the compound, the one who was taking charge, give her a big role, and then murk her and... give her nothing but a brief mention at the end. Like... what the fuck? Natasha deserved so much better than what she was given. Tony’s funeral could’ve (and, frankly, should’ve) been a funeral for him, Natasha, and Vision because god forbid we see anyone mourn Vision other than Wanda

(actually this post covers how Endgame fucked over the MCU women perfectly, though Wanda’s not mentioned :c )

plus... Tony’s not done lol - he’s still a massive figure in the films/shows despite RDJ not acting in them, so his character has left shockwaves that aren’t dying any time soon. Natasha... basically disappeared, and I believe she would’ve been dropped completely if it wasn’t for the fact she does have a film coming out soon. Which, frankly, seems awesome and all, but it’s a film that goes back to post-CACW pre-IW and... frankly doesn’t give me any reason to understand why that means she didn’t get a funeral. She’s not coming back in future movies/shows that are in present MCU timeline - her movie is set in the past. She could’ve gotten a decent sendoff 

now, Clint’s arc as Ronin rubs me the wrong way. I know it’s a huge thing in the comics, and it’s not him taking a different mantle that I have an issue with. It’s the fact he, a white man, went around murdering people and got off scot-free. Yes, he was targeting genuinely bad people, but... to show that, they specifically singled out Mexican cartels and the yakuza (Japanese mafia, essentially) - so, in other words, the bad guys were people of color! I feel like I don’t need to explain how fucked up that is. And, to clarify, I love Clint! Clint is honestly one of my favorite characters, and the whole thing was just handled... poorly in the film

Tony’s arc genuinely hurts. This is a man who has suffered for years and has tried to make things right, and finally got a chance to settle down. He finally retired from the Avengers, finally settled down, and had a fucking life he could enjoy despite his ghosts, and yet... His arc ends with a message of “tortured soul finally gets rest by dying”. Because, y’know, it’s great seeing yet another long-suffering character only reaching peace through death, because god forbid they let characters heal! He could’ve still caused the second Snap, and he could’ve survived. He could’ve finally been able to step away for good and focus on his family, focus on recovering, and be truly happy. What’s so wrong with letting him stay alive so he can rest and be with his family? What’s so wrong with letting a long-suffering character finally find peace after one last bang? 

plus it pisses me off that they’re now using him as a reasoning as to why bad things are still happening. Why is this person the bad guy? Because Tony Stark somehow may or may not have done something that hurt them! Even though most of that really stems from Howard or Obadiah. Tony just ends up getting the blame in their place. He’s just an easy target to use, much like the tesseract seems to be the go-to answer for why things go wrong. But this is a different train of thought

Steve’s ending pisses me off just as much as the next person lmao. You take a character who has acknowledged he no longer belongs in the past (which, funnily enough, was written by the Russos), aaaaaaand have him go back to the past while ignoring two important people in his life that were still right there. He got Bucky and Sam back, and he leaves them. His arc is ruined within a matter of minutes, and it paints a hella bad picture of him in the process. He goes back in time to stay with Peggy (which ultimately destroys her own arc, and the fact she’s a person outside of her relationship (or lack thereof) with him because, y’know, why have her be able to move on and be her own person?), and we’re supposed to believe he’s fine with everything he knows from the future? Fine with knowing Bucky’s trapped with HYDRA and is suffering as the Winter Soldier? Fine with knowing HYDRA has infested SHIELD from day one? Fine with knowing Howard and Maria are going to die? Fine with royally fucking up the timelines? We’re supposed to believe he sat back and did nothing with all of that? They could’ve had him still hand the shield over to Sam - they could’ve let Steve stay an Avenger without the mantle

also the fact the Russos said he didn’t recognize Red Skull when he returned to Vormir to return the soul stone? Like... what the fuck?? Not to mention he literally returns the stone to Vormir, which “soul for a soul”, and they didn’t bring Nat back that way??

and now onto Thor. Thor... holy fuck is this hitting something personal for me. Thor was ridden with guilt - he was furious with himself, hated himself, and blamed himself for failing to stop the Snap. He fell into a massive depression, and... was promptly danced around as laughing stock. Like, “oh! look at Thor! he’s fat and drunk because he’s depressed haha!” - like fuck off. It’s not funny in any form. His suffering was made into a joke and it pisses me off because I suffer from depression. A lot of people suffer from depression. It’s not funny. It’s fucking terrifying at times. I wasted a shit ton of money on a stupid online sim game because it was a distraction - it gave me... god, I wouldn’t even say temporary happiness, but it gave me something to temporarily help, and I still hate myself for doing it. It was a poor decision on my part, and I wish I could change it. And, during that time, I was scared because I couldn’t see myself pulling out of it. I thought I was gonna feel that way forever. I called out of work multiple times because there were days I couldn’t stop crying (something I still feel horrible for doing), I couldn’t get myself to contact any of my friends for months, and it was all because the medication I was on at the time... stopped working. Thankfully, my depression doesn’t work in a way that makes me a danger to myself, so that wasn’t an issue, but it still fucking sucked. And to see a character that I could relate to on such a personal level treated as laughing stock fucking hurt. I’m not sharing this for sympathy - I’m sharing this because it Thor’s arc hit home and it’s literally the main reason why I will not watch Endgame again

this is more of a nitpick than anything else, but... I didn’t really care for Carol in it tbh? Which is unfortunately because Captain Marvel is one of my absolute favorite movies! And I’m well aware she was introduced in Endgame while CM was being drafted, but that in itself is annoying?? Because Carol was originally going to be introduced in AoU, but was cut because it wasn’t going to introduce her character properly. And yet they decide to introduce her character in a clusterfuck of a movie before her movie is in the final stages, and proceed to release her movie first and then give a complete different characterization in her following appearance

honestly I just wanna cover this now to clarify some things regarding Carter and her backstory: the only reason I keep Endgame as is is because it felt easier for me to do so for the purpose of bending canon for specific threads. I wanted to stay as true to the given plots as possible to help with fudging of both the movies and her background, and also because I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was trying to force my own headcanons onto them, y’know? 

I’m just gonna plug this here because fuck it lol, but I did start a fix-it fic regarding Endgame that you can read here! I... probably won’t finish it tbh, and I haven’t gone over it in a hot minute so it might be riddled with errors ahah - plus I’m not sure about how I wrote the characters! I get nervous when writing canon characters because I feel like I’ll miss their characterization completely, which is actually why I,,, rarely rp canon characters dgfjhgsfdhj

also the image in the doc was created by @/archervale!! 

[chupacabrahhh]

*~{ Garden of Golden Deer }~* a Fire Emblem: Three Houses Part 1 drabble

okayyy this is kinda brazy, I've never written fanfic for a video game before but man fe3h really got my imagination juices goin, and it's all thanks to my wonderful Golden Deers Q v Q

[ set during the aftermath of ch5 when Miklan is defeated & you rescue the Lance of Ruin. I recruited Sylvain the previous chapter and he replaces Lorenz in my house. The professor tells her students a story her father Jeralt once told her long ago. ]

~

It was nearing late afternoon, and the end of the Golden Deer’s lesson for the day. Byleth had everyone practicing combat moves they had drafted earlier, the sounds of weapons clashing ringing throughout the training grounds. The professor herself was locked in special dedication with Sylvain, the Sword of the Creator parried against his newly acquired Lance of Ruin. This was the first time he was allowed a feel for the relic in combat, but his clammy grip and furrowed brow gave insight to inner turmoil unlike Byleth had ever seen on her student’s face, especially when wielding a lance with which he was already very proficient.

“Of course he must still feel some type of way over Miklan. I bet he hasn’t laid a hand on the relic that stole his brother’s humanity since the day it was handed over to him. This must be very difficult for him..” she thought empathetically. Next to Claude, Sylvain was her most cocky and skilled student with their weapon of choice. She had never seen him mishandle a lance or without a confident smile on his face, but in front of her now he kept changing grip position and shifting the weight of the Lance of Ruin away from him, his body language screaming that he still wanted nothing to do with the thing. Byleth wished she could ease her student’s troubles, but she didn’t know what to say to comfort him about wielding this Hero’s Relic when she herself still wasn’t all that acquainted with the Sword of the Creator. And her past experience as a mercenary made her nothing if not numb to the taking and end of life, either around her or by her own hand. Suddenly, a memory from years past flickered back into her consciousness from a time when she was very small and had questioned death for the first time, before it became a daily part of her existence.

“Sylvain, that’s enough for today,” she nodded at him with eyes as kind as she could emote, and sheathed her sword. “Everyone, wrap up your sparring and meet me underneath the oak tree outside of the training grounds.”

She turned her back to the sounds of her students exclaiming victories over the others or getting into teasing squabbles. Byleth grabbed her water canteen on the way out and took a few gulps, knowing she would need the hydration for what she planned next. A part of her felt nervous at the coming prospect but an even greater part was assured in the comfort she hoped to bring her Golden Deer. Taking a seat on a large rock underneath the shade of the great tree, Byleth closed her eyes and tried transporting herself years back in her memories of being a small girl in her father’s arms. She could recall the feeling of his fur coat’s neckline as she gripped it, could smell the crisp air of winter’s final gusts as spring made its grand appearance across the land. At this time the mountains were still capped white but the valleys were turning lush and verdant, and buds of the bravest flowers were starting to stand tall, yet withheld the magnificence of their blooms.

Opening her eyes now, she gazed upon seven colorful and expectant faces all looking up at her with mixed expressions, her own little garden she was tasked with tending. Sigh, but the face of their biggest problem plant- er, child, was not among them.

“Claude, get your golden butt over here and sit down with the others. I haven't dismissed you yet.”

“Augh Teach, I was just a few steps away from making it home free, if only you had stayed in your trance a moment longer,” the house leader lamented teasingly but obediently plopped down in the back of the bunch beside Leonie and the Lance of Ruin, which Sylvain had expectantly distanced farthest from him as he sat towards the front of the bunch.

“Professor, are you going to make us meditate because that’s really not my thing and I already promised to meet someone for tea so,” Hilda piped up next and smiled sweetly as she twirled the ends of her pink hair, hoping to be obliged to leave as well.

“No, Hilda, we are not going to meditate and I promise this won’t be long. I’d like to share a quick little story with you all.”

“A story?” Lyisthea spoke next with a twinge of annoyance coloring her tone, but her doe eyes gave away her true excitement.

“Yes, this is a story my father told me back when I was a young child, and it’s stuck with me ever since. As we continue receiving missions that send us onto the battlefield, you’re all going to have to become very acquainted with death, which still might be a difficult or painful concept for you to grasp, understandably.” The mood had shifted from playful to pensive as she brought up death, and the change had caused that prickle of anxiety to return. Lecturing about battle tactics was something she had been forced to get used to by now, impersonal, automatic and well within her wheelhouse, but storytelling with colorful language and emotional sentiment was definitely leagues outside of her comfort zone. She gulped back the fear quickly and cleared her throat to begin, not wanting the silence to stretch any longer than it had.

“This is a story about what becomes of those who die on the battlefield.” Her opening statement grabbed the attention of all her students, with Leonie leaning in the most, obviously setting her expectations high as she hungrily awaited the words of Jeralt. “It was around the end of the Lone moon and I was small enough to be carried by my father but had already seen the handiwork of what he and his fellow mercenaries were hired to do. The image of bodies lying facedown on the land had been imprinted into my mind, and as we walked among the melting snow and coming flowers, I asked him what would become of those who died fighting? Accomplished nobles had grand sendoffs, and villagers were lovingly prepared by the hands of their families, but what was to become of those violent strangers who met their end in a random battlefield? Without missing a beat, he said…”

Byleth took a moment to appreciate the looks on her deer’s faces, with Sylvain’s amber eyes gleaming the brightest of the bunch.

“They become flowers.”

“Flowers!?” Raphael booming incredulous tone contrasted the professor’s soft spokenness.

“Yes, the fighters become flowers. As their blood and life force seeped out of their bodies and into the land, the great exchange was transmuted by the goddess into the most delicate and lovely creation, flowers. What’s more, he explained, was that the soul of each warrior who had taken life as their means of living would spend their next reincarnation as a flower, to learn the lessons of fragility, powerlessness, and surrender. A brief moment in their soul’s journey back to the goddess where they embody what it means to be defenseless. A child could come running along to pick it, a deer grazing and eat it, or at the end of the year it withers to the natural cycle of the seasons, never once harming another soul in its lifetime. He says that is how balance is restored  and how all warriors learn the lesson of gentleness.” Byleth concluded her storytelling with a breath and leaned back with a tiny amused expression watching the unexpected existential and poetic tale turn over in their minds.

Leonie was the first to speak up. “Pardon me, Professor, but I have trouble believing Captain Jeralt the Blade Breaker came up with a story so… uh, flowery.”

“Very perceptive, Leonie, you do know him well. You’re right that that tale didn’t originate from his thoughts. My mother told it to him. But I can assure you he does believe in its message.” Leonie blushed and huffed embarrassedly at being praised by her one-sided rival but nodded once in acknowledgement.

“So Teach, do you believe in that myth? That you and he and all of us will reincarnate as flowers in the next life?” Of course she was expecting that from Claude, a languid smirk on his face as he awaited her answer with interest.

Byleth pondered her inner self for just a moment then nodded slightly. “Yes, I do.”

“Oh, I knew that to be true, Professor! I always noticed that wherever you walk, you always take care to never step on flowers. It’s something I always admired about you..” Marianne was softly glowing with a rare joy then remembered she was in the company of all her classmates and immediately wiped the smile from her face and looked downwards.

Ignatz spoke next, the stars of inspiration lighting his whole body language. “Professor, thank you for sharing such a moving tale! I believe it must be true, as it aligns with all that I believe the goddess values as well! A-and if I may, Professor, I believe that in your next life, you will be a grand and magnificent tree, just like the one we’re all gathered under.”

“Ignatz, so bold! I’m impressed with you!” Sylvain smiled teasingly and ruffled his peer’s olive bowlcut, causing the boy to blush an even deeper shade than his proclamation had him before. “And I have to say, I agree with you. The Professor has to be a majestic and wise tree,” he said, turning his smile towards her. Byleth noticed most of the darkness had left his amber eyes and his inner light was shining through once again, so even though the storytime was a bit embarrassing and uncomfortable, seeing him embody a bit of his old self again made it all worth it, as much as the wonder in the rest of her Golden Deer’s faces. Yes, she felt herself smile genuinely, they were indeed a vibrant garden of individuals.

[aaluminiumas]

Old Junk

        They didn’t meet often.

        In all honesty, Heisenberg himself didn’t know what he was waiting from those meetings: Julia couldn’t teach him any specific techniques, nor was she able to give him a piece of advice that may come in handy in the future, but somehow her decrepit hut on the outskirts of the village turned into a temporary shelter, a haven where he could conceal himself from Miranda’s omniscient eye and Dimitrescu’s stupid jeers.

        Julia barely spoke; in fact, she preferred to express herself by gestures and smiles as if she were mute. Unlike the secretive Donna, who'd rather stay aside and never mingle with the crowd, this particular woman never failed to be understood – touches and glances helped her reach her goal. Conversations were not her forte, but she didn’t need them anyway: something within her lukewarm brown eyes mildly directed the discussion, and Karl felt at ease. Albeit he rarely warned her about his visits, she seemed to be always waiting for him – and, spotting the familiar bulky figure clad in an old coat, she tended to stare at his swarthy face. Sometimes she brushed her hand across his hand and tenderly dragged him into the room. She beamed, literally. Why did he keep coming anyway?..    

        Heisenberg couldn’t remember where and how exactly they encountered: Julia had appeared in his life long before the factory, and, evidently, owing to her modest taciturnity, this manufacture was finally outlined and constructed. Fed up with Moreau’s mourn wailing, Alcina’s commanding tone, and Angie’s shrills, he set off to the shabby shackle on the riverbank and got down to his drafts. Julia never diverted his attention – she kept knitting, humming an ancient lullaby under her breath while Karl was trying to recall whether he’d heard the melody before. Someone had sung it in the past, but he failed to recollect who exactly did it.  Or maybe it was an illusion, and he’d caught the lyrics just because of the brief visits. Every once in a while he sneaked a look at her askance, from beneath the dark glasses:  gaunt and tiny, she practically dispersed in the ugly fuscous-colored sofa that creaked and squeaked so loudly that drove him crazy in a matter of seconds. Karl had offered to throw this monster away and get a new one, but Julia, laughing quietly, shook her head. She always loved old junk. Old junk like him.  

         Actually, Heisenberg wasn’t prone to nostalgia at all, as his reminiscences had always fallen apart in fragments; however, Julia's visage was printed to the back of his brain. If anything, she became the only person who wasn’t afraid of him. Her surprisingly smooth hands cautiously slid across his scars on the back and the chest, scrutinizing them and lingering on the blemishes that once had been the most painful wounds. She even dared touch his face and carefully took off his glasses. Did she think he wanted to show off and tried to evade her stare?..

        Putting the glasses aside, Julia tenderly took his visage in her hands.

        ���I can’t quite grasp the color of your eyes,” she explained with a smile, “they are constantly changing.”

         Her fingertips soared over his nose bridge and flew over to the mark on the cheek, then lingered on the thick lips and softly ambled towards his chin and neck. The odor of car exhaust and cigar smoke didn’t scare her away; she still wanted to stay by his side. Till this very day, he racked his brain about her behavior: did she ever care about her life knowing she was crossing the line?..

        And then – Miranda, of course. A presumptuous witch with a local goddess’s manners. Called on him, invited him to visit her – and for the first time, he was there alone, without that sarcastic super-sized bitch.

        “What?” Heisenberg frivolously leaned over his hammer and lit his cigar. “Problems?”

        “Yes, Heisenberg,” replied Miranda revealing her holier-than-thou attitude, her pale eyes glued to him. “Problems indeed. And one of them is you.”

        The engineer saluted her jocularly.

         “At your disposal! As a matter of fact, I was sure that was the crux of your, ahem, system.” 

         “Don’t be a clown,” she snapped, “You perfectly understand what I am talking about. And you must get rid of her.”

         “What’s the point?” the glasses glimpsed from beneath the hat, his face imperturbable and slightly disinterested. “Lycans are going to take care of it anyway.”

         “Did you hear my order, Heisenberg?” Miranda repeated, completely ignoring his answer. 

         “I did,” he extinguished his cigar. “I’m on it.” 

         Arrogant bitch. He grabbed his hammer and left.

        “Just don’t hurt me too much,” Julia pleaded quietly, “I’m afraid of pain.”

        He couldn’t wrap his head around it. What was it like, to be afraid of pain? His entire like was somehow entangled with it, but he barely remembered those bits; he could count the highlights by the fingers on his one hand. First off, The Cadou, obviously; and the cold caused by the medical instruments – somewhere in the bowels. Then that goddamn steam machine that exploded in his hands. Thanks to it, his hands are now covered in scars. Details that flew off under pressure, a broken cyborg – something had almost blinded him, but luckily, all went well: the

only repercussion that remained was that his eyes were sore when the light was too bright.

         He killed her that night. Well, he didn’t like that – unlike the atrocious, brutal Dimitrescu, Karl didn’t see any point in regular, commonplace slaughter. Of course, he had little patience with intruders and those who got in his way, but the majority of the villagers rarely ventured to stick their noses outside, let alone confronting any of the lords. But Mirada obviously, hated this non-committal relationship of his: her “children” belonged solely to her. They must guard her and her interests. Advocate her. No one had the right to compete with her or to rebel against her. And Heisenberg, who had managed to avoid her omniscient eye, did fall into the category of the mutineers, even though he initially denied the mere idea of revolution. She loathed his independence and free will, she detested his attempt to break away from the others, and she showed her teeth, thus involuntarily revealing her intentions.

         Heisenberg gave his workshop an apathetic look, then glanced at his contorted reflection. Grinning to his doppelganger in the old sooty mirror, the engineer fished a cigar out of his pocket, fumbled with it, and lit the tip. The gloves and the coat were saturated with odors of oil and tobacco – that must be the reason why both the witches, Miranda and Dimitrescu, sniffed at his sight. Prigs. Useless creatures ready to slit anyone’s throat for power, butchering those who dared impinge upon what never truly belonged to them. He did not belong to them; but Miranda, that crazy bitch concerned about her own safety, held a different view and amplified her positions. Julia’s death – or Dimitrescu’s so-called daughters', – did not mean anything to her. In the former case, she found a quiet insurgent in those short meetings: they undermined her authority and monopoly over her ‘son’. As for the latter… she simply didn’t give a shit. Winters’ intrusion may have ruined her entire game, but his resolute resistance and Bela, Daniela, and Cassandra’s murder just proved his abilities and evinced his fighting qualities. He was a rival to be cautious about. Alcina’s feelings were never a thing to her.

         Go to hell, he thought. Instead of dealing with the problems on her own, Miranda keeps them on a tight leash impelling to clean things up after her. The villagers believed in her piety while their reputations got distorted and finally sullied. In the end, they were demonized to the extent that only the Duke dared speak to them. Well, there’s nothing to complain about, though: his cigars significantly dropped in price.

        Heisenberg leaned back in his chair and smirked under his breath. We’ll see what’s next. Not all his drafts had disappeared – the abysmal factory preserved a variety of secrets that would eventually help him overthrow this viper. Just you wait – and the decision will come by itself. Every minute counts: Ethan Winters has already got disposed of Donna and Moreau.

[drawlfoy]

Soft Spot

masterlist request guidelines requests are open!

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

request: yes! there are two of you who requested something very similar, so i’m knocking this one out first to take care of both of you!

summary: you’ve had a crush on draco malfoy for as long as you can remember,...but the funny thing is, you’ve never even spoken to him. he’s mean, he’s spoiled rotten, he’s everything that a hufflepuff could ever want...but you will keep it a secret, right? won’t you? because it’s not like he even knows you exist...

warnings: language and cringiness

a/n: this is gonna kinda be my farewell fic for the summer, something that breaks my heart. i’ll be slowly drafting other requests and i WILL start posting that dramione one once it gets to late fall for the ~aesthetic~. thank you to everyone reading this! you’ve inspired me to keep writing and growing my skills. i love each and every one of you, and i hope you enjoy this last little tidbit of my writing for the summer! but also... i might have a little cringe surprise of a fic i already wrote like 6 years ago saved for later on. this isn’t goodbye, it’s just a see you later!

also... i don’t really know if seekers shake hands at the beginning of the match. i think it’s just the captains but like....let me live and let the plot thrive in a slight harry potter AU where seekers shake hands before games okay

music recs: 1980s horror film II - the wallows

word count: 3,383

tags tags tags! @accio-rogers @geeksareunique

also i literally cannot believe myself i was supposed to write this over a period of a week not 3 hours wtf

“The more concise the flick, the more concentrated your magic will be. No, no, Longbottom, I said concise, not unhinged...try again.”

Y/N watched sympathetically as the Gryffindor struggled to turn the vinegar into wine, Professor Flitwick peering over his shoulder and cringing as the boy flailed about. 

“Poor Neville,” Hannah murmured to her right, her vinegar already having been turned into a deep crimson. “You’d think they’d let up on him by now and just let him do his thing with Herbology.”

“Yeah, but then again, he is abnormally talented at that,” Y/N said, watching the boy carefully. “He probably has the skills. He just needs to tap into them.”

Hannah smiled at her, leaning back into her chair. “Oh, Y/N, always seeing the best in everyone.”

“Oh, stop it. I’m just optimistic.”

“Are you, now?” Hannah leaned forward, wiggling her eyebrows. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it takes more than just simple optimism to have a crush on--”

“Hannah! Quiet!” Y/N’s cheeks flamed at the suggestion. “You’re talking too loud.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She rolled her eyes, still wearing a mischievous grin. “It’s just so funny to me. Have you ever even talked to Mal--”

“Do not say his name!” Y/N hissed. “And...yes, for your information, I have. Last year he bumped into me. I said ‘sorry’.”

“And?”

Y/N looked puzzled. “What?”

“And what did he say back?”

She blushed even harder, slinking down in her seat. “Okay, okay, he didn’t say anything. He just nodded and kept walking.”

Hannah grunted, looking entirely unimpressed. 

“At least he didn’t say anything mean! That’s an improvement!”

“Y/N, I love you,” Hannah began, “And I think you need to have slightly higher standards.”

“You antagonize me,” Y/N moaned, dramatically throwing herself over her chair. “Let me have a little fun. I know nothing’s going to come out of it. So do you.”

Hannah giggled. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. And if something did come out of it....” --Y/N laughed at that-- “...I would still love and support you no matter what. Besides, I think Nott is kind of a catch. Think you could set us up once you have your own Slytherin?”

Y/N smacked her arm good-naturedly. “Anything for my Han--”

“Ladies,” Professor Flitwich greeted. “I’m not seeing much magic occurring over here.”

“We’re done, Professor,” Hannah responded, motioning to the two charmed goblets of wine. Y/N simply nodded along, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the eyes of all of the students in the room. It had grown silent, and it seemed as though the Slytherins over in the corner were smugly awaiting a deduction of points from the Hufflepuffs. Draco Malfoy looked entirely uninterested, choosing to absentmindedly levitate a quill instead.

“Very well.” Flitwick nodded briskly. “But I would prefer if you two took your conversation out of my classroom. It seems as though you both have a grasp on this lesson and no longer need to be here...if you so wish.” There was a twinkle in his eye that reminded Y/N why Flitwick was one of her favorite professors.

“Thank you, Professor,” the two said in unison as they began to pack up their things. Flitwick waved his wand, effortlessly changing the wine back into its original form. 

The Slytherins began chattering again, filling the room with its usual ambiance. 

“Malfoy was looking at you,” Hannah hummed into Y/N’s ear.

“No, he wasn’t,” she responded. “I saw him. He was levitating a quill or whatever.”

“Not the whole time. And, oh, the way he was looking at you...total fuck-me eyes.”

“You’re gross, Hannah,” Y/N managed in between laughs. “Was that before or after he stood up on the desk and confessed his unconditional love for Hagrid?”

“During. He always did strike me as a polyamorous guy.”

“Stop!” Y/N burst into a laughing fit, drawing some attention to them as they walked out the door. “You’re bad!”

Hannah chuckled a bit herself, skipping down the corridor. The fall afternoon sun shone through the windows, casting a warm glow on everything inside. Y/N jogged up to meet her, struggling to shove the last of her supplies into the right pockets of her satchel. 

“Slow down, will you?” Y/N called, stopping to catch her breath.

“Damn, Y/L/N, you really expect to be able to seek this weekend? With that lung capacity?” Hannah joked, skipping back to her.

“Says the person who has never played a single match of Quidditch in her life,” Y/N countered, raising an eyebrow. 

“Okay, you got me there.” Hannah raised her arm in a surrender. “I watch you enough, though.Speaking of watching you...”

She sidled up close to Y/N, shoving her playfully. “How does it feel playing your very first game against...Slytherin? With Malfoy as the opposing seeker?”

“Oh, stop it,” Y/N groaned. “It’s nervewracking enough. I saw how he treated Harry in the last game. He plays rough.”

Hannah’s eyes widened. 

Uh, oh. She only ever did that when she was plotting.

“That’s it,” she sang, skipping circles around a confused Y/N. “That’s how you’re gonna find out if he has a soft spot for you!”

“Huh?”

“You just said he plays dirty with Harry,” she explained. “And I’ve seen him mess with Cho too. If he’s nicer to you and doesn’t shove you off your broom...then you know that he likes you!”

“Hannah, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Y/N admitted, beginning to walk forward again. “First of all, even if he did like me, why would he be willing to be nice to me in front of the entire school? To a half-blood Hufflepuff? He couldn’t, it would ruin his reputation. And second of all, there’s no way he does like me. You said it yourself...he’s never said a word to me.”

Hannah sighed, cracking her knuckles as she looked at the stained glass on the ceiling. “That’s true. But you liked him even before you talked to him. Why do you assume he couldn’t feel the same way?”

“Because he’s a Malfoy, and I’m not his caliber,” Y/N said, her voice flat. 

“And how come you get to decide what his caliber is?”

<>

Hannah’s suggestion rattled around in Y/N’s head. It frustrated her--it really did. She was supposed to be training for her very first match, not daydreaming about how Draco’s hair would look under the setting sun of the pitch. But she couldn’t stop. 

She started paying even more attention to him, if that was possible. She stole looks at him from across the dining hall, watching as he rolled his eyes and laughed at something Pansy Parkinson said. Now that she thought of it, she rarely saw Draco without Pansy...but she couldn’t decipher if that was a mutual decision or if Pansy clung to Draco like Hannah told her she did. 

On Friday night, instead of discussing strategy with the captain, Zacharias Smith, she was watching a particularly interesting scene at the Slytherin table. Pansy was pushed up next to Draco, whispering whatever she was whispering into his ear. He didn’t look thrilled, but he certainly wasn’t pushing her away. Anger boiled in her chest, so much so that she almost didn’t notice the tap on her shoulder. 

“Y/L/N.” 

The firm male voice finally caught her attention as she spun around to see Blaise Zabini looking down at her.

“What?” Her tone was sharp, clipped from what she had just seen over at his table.

“Malfoy wants to talk to you,” he said blankly. “You are the seeker, right?”

“Er...yeah.”

“Come with me then, we don’t have all day.” Blaise grabbed her arm, hauling her up rougher than she would’ve liked. Hannah shot her a shit eating grin which Y/N did not return. 

She was too nervous. Why would Draco want to talk to her? 

Blaise dragged her across the Great Hall as the rest of her house curiously watched. The Slytherin table, hostile as ever, quieted down to a hushed murmur as she neared the group that always surrounded Draco. 

“Here,” Blaise spat, pushing Y/N forward to him. She stared daggers at him in response. No, she was most certainly not in a cheery mood today. 

“I said bring her over, not drag her by her hair,” Draco said, slowly dragging his eyes over her. She flinched in response, not quite knowing what to say. 

“What for?” Her voice was strong, something that surprised her greatly. 

He raised an eyebrow as Pansy scowled in the background. “It’s concerning our match tomorrow. I want to propose a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes.” Draco sighed, looking rather irritated that she hadn’t caught on yet. “You agree to not catch the snitch, and I’ll give you something that you want. Galleons, perhaps?” He smirked. 

“No, that’s quite alright,” Y/N responded breezily, instead focusing on quelling the raging blush on her cheeks. The way that Draco looked at her made her feel like he could see into her soul, and she couldn’t tell if she liked it yet. “I’m perfectly content with just playing a fair game.”

“A fair game?” Draco snorted, and the rest of his friends followed suit with canned laughter. “I think you’ve forgotten exactly who you’re playing against, love.”

“If you’re so good, then you shouldn’t have to bribe me,” Y/N shot back before she could hold her tongue.

Wait...what did he just call me?

Draco shrugged, seemingly unbothered, but Pansy sprung to his defense. “Draco, I think you ought to teach this little Hufflepuff to mind her manners around you.”

Y/N, stunned by her realization, simply stared at him, waiting for a response.

“No need, Pansy,” he said, holding eye contact with Y/N. “There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow. You can...er...go now.”

Blaise seized her arm again, but before she could move to yank her arm out of his grip, Draco’s voice broke the silence again. “Zabini, I hardly think that she needs an escort.”

Dazed, she pulled her arm away from him and dashed off. Hannah was waiting back at the Hufflepuff table, her plate long forgotten.

“What was that??” she squealed, nearly bouncing in her seat. Y/N just stared at her.

“He called me love.”

<>

Thankfully, she had long cast aside her thoughts of a particular white-blonde by the next morning. Y/N was so nervous that Hannah nearly had to force down her toast.

“C’mon, you need the energy!” Hannah pleaded. “At least drink some water. I can’t have you passing out on the pitch! Hufflepuff needs you!”

Zacharias, or Arias, as he asked her to call him, was sitting next to her, calmly going over the strategies for the game. 

“You really do need to eat,” he informed her. “I know you feel like you’re gonna vomit, but you’ve just gotta force it down. You’ll thank me later.”

Under his watchful gaze, Y/N began nibbling on her toast, forcing it down.

“Atta girl,” he praised. “Anyways, your biggest worry right now isn’t the Beaters...it’s the other seeker. Normally it wouldn’t be like that against, say, Gryffindor, but you’ve seen how Malfoy plays. He isn’t afraid of a few fouls.”

Y/N nodded, the nausea returning.

“But you’re smart, and I chose you for a reason,” Arias said, patting her shoulder. “You’re going to do great. I know it. And our Chasers are great, so even if you can’t catch the Snitch, we’ll be okay.”

She nodded again, leaning into him and blinking hard. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a pair of ice grey eyes trained on her.

<>

“...and I want a clean, fair game today,” Madame Hooch finished. Y/N was ashamed, but she’d spaced out on the entire speech, instead focusing on how nervous she was. 

She was obviously shaking, and she felt even more pathetic standing across from the Slytherin team. They were all buff and tall and scary looking, and she was short and shaking. 

Arias placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Don’t worry, Y/N/N. It’ll all be over before you know it.”

She nodded, swallowing to try and combat her dry mouth. It didn’t work, especially when she saw that Draco was watching her with an amused look on his face. When she caught his eye, he raised an eyebrow quizzically at her and smirked. 

Arse. 

“Seekers, shake hands.” Hooch’s voice cut into her thoughts. Arias prodded her forward, and Y/N complied, stepping closer to Draco. 

He clasped her hand firmly, leaning forward just a fraction. 

“Don’t be so scared,” he stage-whispered. “We’re playing a fair game, remember?” 

At this, his Slytherin teammates chortled in the background as Arias frowned.

“Leave her be, Malfoy,” he hissed, pulling Y/N back to the Hufflepuffs. “I swear, if you lay a hand on her, I’ll...”

“Relax, Smith, I’m not gonna touch your girlfriend,” he drawled. 

“She’s not my girlfriend!” 

“Mhm.”

At Hooch’s command, the two captains stepped forward and shook hands, Arias glowering at Malfoy and Malfoy smirked down at him.

The game started before Y/N knew it, and suddenly, her worry slipped away. She was no longer a lowly Hufflepuff--she was a seeker, and a damned good one at that. 

She had watched enough Slytherin matches to know Malfoy’s dirty strategies. He generally relied on faking out the other seeker, which she found a rather cheap tactic. 

Y/N decided to just take a few wide sweeps around the arena, dipping up and down through the air. Draco clearly hadn��t seen anything--he was flying in lazy circles much higher than her, clearly trying to get a higher vantage point of the arena to search for the gold glint in the air. 

Speaking of which...when she flew past the Ravenclaw section, she caught a glimpse of a slight shimmer in the air.

No way. This early in the game?

Y/N squinted, pausing in the air for a second. The gold shimmer moved again, just a few hundred feet away from her. 

She’d spotted it!

Glancing up, she saw that Draco was watching her intently. As casually as she could, she began making her way towards the Snitch, still flickering around a little next to one of the columns of the pitch. 

When he turned away for a second, Y/N gunned it, speeding towards it. It began to move away from her rapidly, but at the same, time, she was gaining momentum. 

“And it appears that Y/N Y/L/N has spotted the snitch!”

The Hufflepuff section roared as she closed in on the distance. She began stretching her hand out and was just inches away from it when something lightly bumped her shoulder.

Draco.

He moved so his shoulder was pressed to hers, keeping up with her exactly and leaning forward, mimicking her movements.

“You’re not half bad, you know,” he mused as nonchalantly as the whistling air would allow. 

“I do. Same with you.”

Y/N’s broom was going as fast as it could without being uncontrollable, and it seemed that that was the case for Draco as well. His arms were longer than hers, though, and he was just inches from grabbing the snitch. 

She could’ve just shoulder checked him to throw him off balance like she had seen him do so many times, but at the same time, he could’ve as well--but he wasn’t. 

In a sudden stroke of creativity, Y/N dived down , throwing Draco’s attention off just enough to lag behind for the briefest of seconds. Darting forward, her fingers managed to close around something cold and vibrating with energy.

“HUFFLEPUFF HAS CAUGHT THE--”

<>

Her head was heavy in the middle and light at the sides. Had it always been like that, or was she just hyperaware of the fact?

Her surroundings were dimly lit with a single candle, but even that hurt her eyes as they fluttered open. She vaguely recognized that it had to be nightime--wherever she was. Y/N tried to sit up, whimpering as the small of her back ached. 

“Whoa, slow down,” a familiar voice cautioned. It was posh and male, but she couldn’t quite place it. 

“Mmmhmm.” Her acknowledgement of the person speaking to her was unrefined and embarrassing, but she didn’t care. Whoever it was clearly cared enough to watch over her.

The memories came flooding back...the sensation of the snitch humming in her hands, Draco flying next to her, awe written all over his pretty face..but then the white hot sensation in her back, the sudden halt of her broomstick, the rushing motion as she plummeted to the ground...the boneshattering impact, the sounds of Draco wailing for help...

But then it cut off there. 

With newfound energy, Y/N hoisted herself up, taking in more of her surroundings. It was most certainly at some hour in the night in the Hospital Wing. A figure sat at the chair next to her bed, and a candle illuminated the currtain surrounding her. 

She squinted at the figure. “Who are you? I can’t see.”

“Oh.”

Dark arms rustled about, pulling out a wand and whispering Lumos. A ball of light revealed a very disheveled looking Draco Malfoy. Y/N gasped.

“Sh, you’ll wake Pomfrey up,” he whispered. “It wasn’t me who hexed you. It was Harper.”

Y/N blinked up at him. “I know.”

“You do?” 

He stared at her for a few seconds, his mouth agape.

“Of course I do, I heard you yelling for help. I wouldn’t do that to someone who just hexed me.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Bet you wish you took that bribe now, huh?”

Y/N snorted. “No. I won.”

Draco just shrugged again. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great.”

“I figured.” He shifted in his seat a bit. “Listen, I...er...”

“What?”

He scooted forward just a few feet. “I’m sorry for trying to bribe you. I’ll be honest, I was just kind of looking for a reason to talk to you. Winning this match would’ve just been the cherry on top.”

“You...what?” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Stop it right now. What did Pomfrey give me? She must have me on some hard stuff...wow...”

He laughed, leaning forward even more. Y/N could smell a clean whiff of pine and black tea. “No, no, you’re not on pain potions. That I know of, at least.”

“So you’re telling me the truth?”

“Why would I wait her for...I don’t even know how many hours for you to wake up only to lie to you?”

“You were here for the entire time?”

“I mean, I had to shower and eat, but yeah, basically.” He cleared his throat, carding his hand through his hair. “I find you kind of interesting. Always have. Is it a crime to want to get to know you more?”

“I must be dreaming,” Y/N muttered, turning her eyes up to the ceiling. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“My parents aren’t as strict on half-bloods,” he hastily said. “And your academic and athletic record kind of...outshine the fact that you’re a Hufflepuff.”

“Charming,” Y/N responded dryly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that...” He wrung his hands together, gazing down at them instead of meeting her eyes. “I’m saying that I have...I don’t know, a soft spot for you? And if you feel the same way, I think it’d be, er, interesting to maybe see where this goes.”

“You’re saying that you have a crush on me?” 

The abruptness of her comment caused her to shyly look away at the ground. 

“No, look at me,” he murmured. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Y/N let out a lengthy exhale.

“What is it?”

“Could you tell? That I’ve had a massive crush on you since, well, forever?”

He shakily laughed. “Oh, thank god.”

“Well, could you?”

“Hm.” Draco thought for a few moments, placing an elbow on her bed so he could rest his chin in his hand. “Yeah, kind of. I couldn’t tell if I was overanalyzing everything, though.”

“You weren’t,” she assured him, turning to face him again.

He stared at her for a few seconds, his soft grey eyes wide with wonder. Inching his free hand closer to her, he paused. “May I?”

She smiled then, ignoring how her face hurt. “I mean, you waited hours for it.”

“No,” he corrected. “Years.”

With that, he gently slipped her hand into his, rubbing slow circles onto it as she drifted off to sleep. 

final a/n: me: so i’m not posting any more imagines until i’m literally into college and an adult! also me: here’s a fic i wrote in two hours because i couldn’t focus on my sat prep! also so so so sorry for any spelling mistakes/plot holes/grammatical errors in here. i just slammed this one out

[bytheangell]

A More-Than-Friendly Competition

Flufftober Day 23: Poetry (Read on AO3) 

Magnus, who just ended things with a man who had, unfortunately, become a bit too enamored with him and started prying a bit too deeply into Magnus’ past, sits in the parlor of his home with a drink in one hand and a piece of parchment in the other. He’s doing a rather dramatic reading of the poetry written on the parchment, by hand with the finest quill around, and so he feels the need to deliver the words with the flourish they deserve.

It doesn’t hurt that the poetry is about him and that the long-suffering audience of his reading is Ragnor. Ragnor, who Magnus may or may not have an unfortunate set of unrequited feelings for. Ragnor, who Magnus might, possibly, not that he’d ever admit it, be trying to make jealous.

“That was dreadful,” Ragnor says immediately upon Magnus’ completion of the reading. “Nevermind the man’s concerning obsession with you, you should’ve left the moment you read a word of this drivel he writes.”

Magnus huffs. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have any poetry written about you.”

“Who says I don’t?” Ragnor demands. “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t make it public knowledge.”

“Of course,” Magnus says, in a tone of voice that implies he doesn’t believe Ragnor at all and gets a small burst of satisfaction when Ragnor bristles at his tone.

“And I wager that I could get better poetry written about me any day,” Ragnor continues. “In fact, what do you say we do just that. A friendly wager?”

“I’m listening,” Magnus says.

“It’s simple - we each go out and find admirers to compose poetry about us. Catarina objectively judges which of us gets the best poem written about them at the end of… one year,” Ragnor suggests.

“A year? That seems excessive. Afraid you can’t get a single poem by then?” Magnus laughs.

“Fine. Three months?”

Magnus considers, then nods. “Alright. You’re on.”

---

Magnus doesn’t know why he agreed to this. He doesn’t want more poetry and adoration from casual romantic acquaintances, that was never the point. And now all it’s done is make Magnus jealous every time Ragnor comes to him with a new poem to show off. All Magnus can think about is the person it came from, whoever Ragnor’s latest tryst is with for the sake of their competition, and how that person isn’t him.

It’s all rather unfortunate. Magnus keeps up appearances, flirting his way through artistic circles he knows are full of budding writers, but it doesn’t take long for him to lose his motivation. After one month he tries to call the bet off, even willing to cede victory willingly, but Ragnor will hear none of it.

“You just know you’re going to lose, and I refuse to win on a technicality. Come now, you’ve never been one to back out of a gentleman’s bet before, Bane,” Ragnor goads, and Magnus sighs.

“What if we call it early and choose from whatever we have now?” Magnus bargains.

“Why are you so eager to stop?” Ragnor questions. Magnus knows he’s looking for the real reason, the one that has Magnus pacing slightly during this conversation and biting his lower lip in thought.

Magnus knows he can’t say anything, he can’t ruin the best friendship he has, so he shakes his head in reply. “No reason. You’re right - I’m just getting nervous I’ll lose.”

Magnus has a feeling that Ragnor knows he isn’t telling the whole truth, but Ragnor doesn’t press and Magnus drops the subject entirely.

Two more months. Surely he can get through two more months of this?

---

Magnus cannot get through two more months of this.

In fact, he’s been lying about his own dates for two weeks straight now, having lost all motivation for this little game of theirs. At a loss for what to do and after much agonizing, an idea strikes him that’s equal parts brilliant and terrifying: Magnus decides to write a poem about Ragnor.

Poetry is not a particularly strong suit of his, but knowing Ragnor Fell inside and out is, and that’s the advantage he puts into play the moment he sits down at his desk and begins to write. It takes Magnus days to craft the perfect lines, to convey the little details he’s noticed over the years, the subtle emotions that always seep into their conversations and time together. By the end, many scratched-out drafts and crumpled sheets of parchment later, Magnus has a poem that practically oozes fondness from every carefully chosen word.

The next time they meet for drinks Magnus hands Ragnor the poem almost immediately.

“What’s this?” Ragnor asks, giving the parchment a precursory glance.

“It’s a poem,” Magnus says simply. He doesn’t need an explanation, the poem itself should be obvious enough. “For you.”

Ragnor looks back down at the poem and begins to read silently to himself. Magnus watches his eyes scan the paper, the few times it looks like Ragnor wants to look up from it and over to Magnus but forces himself to read it all once through first.

“Well then,” Ragnor says, finally looking back over to Magnus who, to his credit, keeps his head raised high to meet his gaze instead of looking away like he so desperately wants to do in these rare moments of true transparency. “I suppose I can agree to that premature end of our wager you wanted now...”

Magnus assumes the worst - that Ragnor no longer wants anything to do with him, that he ruined everything.

“...Since I can’t imagine receiving a more perfect poem than this one,” Ragnor continues.

Magnus allows the words, and the slight smile on Ragnor’s face, to properly sink in for several long seconds before he trusts himself to speak.

“What are you thinking right now?” Magnus hazards.

“I’m thinking it’s about time you admitted it. I suspected, but I could never be entirely certain,” Ragnor admits. “And I’m thinking that I’m not mad about my suspicions being right.”

Magnus relaxes visibly and gives a proper smile for the first time that day. “Shall we give the poem to Cat and tell her it’s over?”

Ragnor pulls the parchment closer to himself instinctively at the suggestion, and when he speaks again his voice is softer than Magnus expects. “I’d like to keep this one for myself, actually. If that’s alright with you.”

It’s such a sweet sentiment that Magnus is temporarily stunned. He expected a wide range of reactions, but somehow simple sweetness was not one of them.

“Of course,” Magnus agrees quickly, once he’s regained his composure. “I could always write another, too, if you-”

“I wouldn’t push your luck. This one was charming, no need to force it now,” Ragnor teases good-naturedly, and Magnus laughs, rolling his eyes. Now this is the sort of reaction he expected from Ragnor. This he can work with.

Magnus writes Ragnor a poem every day for a week out of equally good-natured spite, and though Ragnor tells him to stop being ridiculous and rolls his eyes at each one Magnus also notes that he keeps them, each and every one.

[dragonnan]

Everyone is encouraged to join!  

FYI - yeah I know it’s actually Saturday... Didn’t feel like changing it though, lol!

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The work I thought it would be fun to share is an in-progress unpublished work that will likely take a while to put together.  I was incredibly inspired by the brilliant writing of both @hanuko and silentsaebyeok who both have stories about Wilson Fisk.  Here is my take on that character in an Avengers fic!

Untitled Fic

Setting: near the end of Homecoming and just prior to Tony reconciling with Pepper

AU of Daredevil season 2-3 (Karen didn't murder Wesley as Fisk's mother didn't remember her visit.  She only remembered Ben)

Late afternoon sunlight had turned every pane of glass into a pool of gold.  The patio doors of the tall office building had been left open – allowing the haze of late day warmth to coil upwards; carried on drafts of air heated from the concrete below.  Rubber soles squeaked softly against marble that knew mainly Italian leather and the rare alligator hide.  Two-hundred dollar sneakers were incongruous to the wealth of the man sporting them, but then, Tony Stark had never been a fan of the expected.    

“So what wrong side of the bed did I wake up on this morning to earn this clandestine meeting before my Kai Jiew has had time to settle?”  One hip resting on the edge of the railing, Tony managed to shudder back a yawn before it became embarrassing.  Behind him, the familiar snap of a briefcase lock barely drew a glance as “Dilbert” pushed up his glasses and withdrew a thick file from the depths.

Further in the shadows, the larger man, silent, stood with his head at an oddly subdued angle.  Often reticent in the blessedly few interactions Tony had ever had with the man, it was little surprise that it was his assistant who spoke.

“Apologies, Mr. Stark.  I assure you this won't take long.”

The unstated request, of course, was that Tony sit at the table positioned within the large room.  Tony raised an eyebrow.  “You didn't say please.”

A smooth, tight lipped smile, followed his quip.  Meanwhile, the still silent other member of their trifecta finally stepped forward – grasping one of the stuffed leather office chairs and rolling it back before seating himself.  Wilson Fisk wove his hands together above propped elbows.  “I appreciate your willingness to meet me so early, Anthony.  I felt it best to speak with you privately given the... delicacy... of the issue at hand.”  He gestured towards the single remaining chair.

Well that wasn't at all circumspect.

Returning the tight lipped smile in kind, Tony grabbed the chair facing the head of the table and sat; leaning back and settling his arms on the padded rests.  “You know, usually I let Pepper handle SI business.  Not sure if you got the memo but I'm not actually CEO any longer.  How was prison, by the way?  I heard the kitchen got a new chef.”

Ignoring the comment, Fisk tapped his thumbs together and kept a close study of the polished inlay before him.  “That is something we share in common,” he looked up, then, finally, “I, too, find that most business affairs tend to be... tedious.”  Fisk grinned, a flash of small, even, teeth, before he nodded towards his assistant... Wilbur?  Weston?  “Mr. Wesley, if you would please?”  He turned back to Tony – also leaning back and resting his thick hands over his thicker waist.  “I can assure you, however, that what we're here to discuss is a matter that falls somewhat outside the purview of Stark Industries.”

While his employer spoke, Wesley neatly stacked the pages of the file before sliding the bundle across the polished tabletop to Tony.  Eager to just get everything done with, Tony pressed his hand flat on the cover to slide it close, flipped it back... and froze.

Across from him, Fisk continued speaking.  “I have found that I have an over-abundance of pressure on me as I attempt to rebuild was was lost during my incarceration. Aside from the judgement of the good people of this city I also have faced an ongoing assault from a number of vigilantes.  This city, for all of its potential, has the unfortunate side effect of breeding these... vermin... faster than the rats that inhabit the sewers.  As it is they are beneath the notice of those who claim to protect the people of this city.”  His hands stilled – lying one on top of the other as Tony silently turned to the next page.  “Too busy protecting the rest of the world, perhaps.”

Tony made himself turn to the next page; his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Of course it isn't in my nature to harm innocents.  I find it distasteful to involve women and children in such matters.  And, yet, I find that it is, in fact, a child at the center of my current dilemma.  Of greater irony is that this child has both power and connections that would, under normal circumstances, place him outside the reach of those who would wish him harm.”

The forth page was a photo – clipped from a newspaper and a duplicate to the framed image that sat on the worktable in Tony's lab.  In the grainy image he stood, one arm slung around a young man's shoulders, as the kid received his certification for completing the “Stark Internship”.  Tony licked his tongue across his teeth before closing the file once more.

Fisk let out a soft hum.  “As it is, prison has a way of creating strange bedfellows.  I met someone – a man you may know.  Adrian Toomes.  After some persuasion he had something very interesting to share with me.  Something that, I can only imagine, you would wish to keep out of the hands of certain individuals.”

Tony wanted to clench his hands – his fingertips twitching before he pushed them flat against the wood beneath them.  “Just to clarify you're threatening my intern?”

Fisk leaned forward; hands folding tight before him on the table.  “I was hoping we wouldn't have to play any games but given your refusal to read the rest of the documents Mr. Wesley provided, I will summarize them for you.” Here he stood; walking to the open doors facing the patio.  “I know who Peter Parker really is.  I know about his aunt.  I know the names of his friends, where he goes to school, and where he buys his favorite sandwich every afternoon.”  He rested his hands behind his back; squinting in the sunlight.  “If he continues to disrupt my affairs in Hell's Kitchen, the consequences could be... unpleasant.” He glanced back at Tony; his face serene.  “You realize I'm asking for very little.  Keep your new pet leashed and allow me to conduct my business in peace.  The child will never have to know my name. Other than what he may learn from news reports; of course.” Tugging his cuffs, Fisk turned to more fully face into the room.  “I never wanted to involve you.  This is the sort of attention I have spent a fortune to avoid.  As it is I find myself in a position where reticence could cost me even more.”  

Pushing to his feet, Tony could no longer stop his hands from fisting at his sides – though he managed to control the tremor as he joined Fisk.  Side by side, the other man practically loomed over him.  

“So you aren't just threatening a kid – you're threatening everyone he cares about.  Little bit budget TV villain but you do you I guess.”  Pulling off his tinted glasses, he stared up at the other man.  “The thing is this little weekly drama you're playing?” he waggled his fingers back and forth, “way above your pay grade.  Maybe stick to collecting on gambling debts and playing whack-a-mole with the other lowlifes in your contacts list.”

The smallest of smiles twitched at the corner of Fisk's lips.  “I know you're someone who prefers visual aids,” his voice became guttural – losing the soft quality, “perhaps a demonstration would help to convince you.”  

A glance to the side, the barest nod to Wesley, and the other man typed into his phone.

There was a moment – silence this far above the city.

And then an apartment complex, three blocks away, exploded into flame.

Horrified, Tony gave Fisk a single look, seeing the purpose in that cold gaze, before twisting the dial on his watch and backing up just enough to turn and take a running leap.  One foot caught on the railing and with a surge of his muscles, he launched himself out into open space.

Terrifying free fall – the ground racing towards him at breakneck speed.

And then smooth metal wrapped his body and he shot towards the blaze.  

:Cutting things a little bit tight, aren't we, Boss?:          

      “No time to chat, Fri.  Emergency response status?”  He twisted his body into an angle as the building grew large in his visor – too few residents stumbling free out onto the pavement.

:Fire and Rescue are three minutes away:

“Shit.”  Aiming for a top floor window that had been blasted out with the explosion, Tony shot through the opening and made a quick scan of the room.  He winced at the sudden burst of heat that briefly enveloped his suit.  “Anyone on this level?”

He almost swore he could hear his AI sighing.  :Apologies, Boss.  I am unable to differentiate life signs from the ambient temperature.  Also the heat is steadily rising and will soon be at levels exceeding this suit's tolerances.:

Ignoring the warning, Tony finished his check of the room and moved on to the next apartment.  “Yeah, let's put a pin in that.  Adjust audio input and scan for human voices.”

In the second apartment he found a single person – deceased.  Same for the next two.  In the forth apartment there were two dead but he also found a child – burned and terrified but alive – buried beneath the blankets in her parent's closet.  Tony kept her wrapped to protect against the flames and rushed her to the sidewalk and into the arms of one of the firemen who had just arrived on scene.  

“Explosion – multiple charges – there's still people...”  He coughed at the black smoke boiling from the ruined building and dropped his visor back into place before returning inside.

Even with the protection of his suit the heat was breathtaking.  There were no more survivors on the top floor so Tony proceeded to the next level down.

:I'm detecting instability in the surrounding structure.:

“We got three apartments left on this floor.  Stop listening to the walls and keep listening for voices!”

The next sign of life he found, however wasn't a human but a howling dog still locked in its kennel.  Tucking the kennel under one arm, Tony finished his search of that floor – finding three additional people and four more pets.  With everyone holding their respective creatures he didn't risk another flight but, instead, soaked several blankets in a shower and guided them to a stairwell FRIDAY had located that was still relatively flame free. Then, turning back to his task he set out to locate more survivors.

Another five minutes in – fire and rescue now dousing the building as fireman began going door to door on the bottom two floors, Tony took the last one remaining.

It was then that disaster struck.

He'd just entered the first apartment – already racing towards the elderly man collapsed on the floor when there was a sudden burst of flames across the ceiling above – overlaid by a warning from FRIDAY.  

:Boss, there is a weakening of the...:

“Shit!”  His heartbeat was a drum in his ears as hooked a thick blanket from the ratty chair in the living room – slow motion tornados of smoke lifting up from the surrounding dry surfaces.  Propulsion would actually take longer – factoring in the time to slow his speed before reaching the man.  It was a fast paced eternity bolting across the ancient carpet.  The blanket billowed out ahead of him and cloaked the man just moments before he wrapped arms around him – knowing that even inside the blanket he was burning the old man with the super heated surface of his suit.  

He managed two steps to the window.

And then the world shattered in a concussive blast.

[kaleidiope]

September Project updation post in October because, well, i’m silly

This post I’ll mainly talk about my plan for my stories, and the things that’ve changed along with my plans for them and such. This was suppose to be in September but, I procrastinated, so yeah!  And, a ‘keep reading’ line to keep things tidy looking! Also, I actually had this as a draft, but forgot about it! Also, also, please don’t mind all the spelling errors that i’m sure is in here, this is quite long, and i’m so sorry for all of that!

You all know the drill, this is an update for the story I've been working on. It was made in roughly February of 2019. Or at least, that’s when I got the idea for it. I’ve been working on it seriously since September of 2019. So, for about a year. On this blog you can find a good bit of random things about it, including drawings. A lot of the drawings I've done I never posted, maybe one day, probably never, but still! A lot of this Blog has actually been WIPS of my story. And, since those past updates, story pitches and such, a few things have changed, and that's what this is about!

First, for those who don’t know, I feel in love with One shot, Deiland, Moonlighter, Borderlands, and a few other games. Mainly One shot for it’s vibe, it’s feel. I loved it, maybe too much? And, really wanted to make something like it. I don’t see that atmosphere much, personally. On Music box maniacs, a lovely site, I was given the idea to make a melody for a character. And that’s how Umber came along. Over time, I kind of made Umber, and left her. Started trying to get into digital art, but without a tablet I tried to create a character that would be easy to free hand with a mouse. Which became Pax. Over time, I feel in love with Pax’s design. I drew him a lot, he was my first, and only OC. I’ve drawn random people and thing’s before, but he had a name. An age. And soon, a back story. He was set in a different world than Umber’s. Which, at this time, is almost abandoned. He was a potion seller’s child who only wanted to go on the adventure’s the customers where experiencing. And one day, he’d face a dragon, and possibly his fate. But that was scraped because each time I drew him, more and more, the backgrounds reminded me of Umber’s story. So, he became a child in her story and his was abandoned.  Umber was suppose to be a child traveling with no family trying to get awareness of her light to others. And once meeting Pax in another shop, he agreed to help her. So, you could say, Pax was Moonlighter based, and Umber was One shot based. The idea that her light was a bad thing and there were ‘”bad people” didn’t come until later. Though, Crimson was suppose to be a bully type of person who mocked, and even at times, almost hurt Umber. Because also, at this time, everyone was children. Once it was thought over for awhile then did we get the story line we have now. Umber was an inventor in a world suffering a seeming eternal eclipse. which was ruled by a corporation that was money hungry and didn’t care for the greater good. The world had glowing bugs that somehow emit a good amount of light, and through time and a lot messing and discovery, oddly power? Which is what the corporation sells, Starworm lights, and “batteries” of a sort. The bugs also allow some things to grow, but with them being harvested as much as they are, the corporation is killing the world. But, that won’t be their problem, they’ll be dead by the time it’s an issue. Now, we have a lot of characters and general world building stuff, along with the flora and fauna and how things work. So, let’s begin! (Yes, this is going to be a long post. I’m so sorry!) But, I have since changed a few things, which I will now state. I was pretty heck bent on giving them ages, but, I don’t wish for them to have any, anymore. This is not earth. It’s a planet without a sun. Keeping track of time is easier than days, let alone years. So for many, it’s just a toss up on how long they’ve lived for. Just a mere, rough, idea. I wanted ages for personality comparisons and height ideas for when I draw them. Which, was never my idea at first. This was just for OC’s to draw, yes, but then it became a story for them, along with for my own enjoyment and somehow it became more than that. Which, I oddly love. But, ages were more for an even sillier reason I've since abandoned as well, and I think the story’s better off now since then. Also, they were all children at a time. Adults wouldn’t even have names or faces, All adults were originally suppose to get full face masks. Instead of half masks. But Indigo ruined that, and after that, some of the characters were being made older. To fit with the personalities, for say, Talos. He was also a child, who I didn’t feel being a child would fit the character and mainly, their job in the story as a whole. So yes. The story itself wasn’t the main idea. Having OC’s to draw were. But I was given a lot of support on MBM with my story pitches, also, I enjoyed making them. So I continued. And I really enjoy this. World building has been the hardest, trying to make things make sense, like the eclipse lasting years. And the fact a moon bigger and that much closer to the planet would most likely make the planet itself, the planet’s moon, and the moon, the planet. And how is life still possible, along with, isn’t it cold? And to that, yes, yes, yes, and maybe XD Mainly, this is fantasy, yes, I do want it to make sense, yes, this isn’t earth. The people’s races aren’t our races, calling them human might just be an insult to them. I mean, they don’t even have pupils. (Thanks, odd drawing style.) So, my answer to a lot of this is, it’s not earth. This is fantasy. I’m doing this for fun. And I’ve done a lot research for something that was never suppose to be as much of a thing as it is, but i’m having too much fun to stop now. And with that as well, yes, a lot of my characters are suppose to have a deeper skin color. Talos, Mauve, Indigo, and so on, are suppose to have a more deep olive color. But, at the time of drawing a lot of them, I didn’t have the faith to execute other skin tones correctly. So I just didn’t. Just like drawing illustrations for my story. I didn’t think I would because I didn’t think I could, but i’m now willing to try. So, here is where we stand so far! I want my characters to have a rough age, but it could be depicted to give of take about three years. I’ve said I wanted Pax to be about 11, but I also see him to act older for his age and such. The idea of him being any younger seems odd, but if you wanted to give him a 9-15 age for an example, that’s more than cool. That goes for all my characters. I want a lot of my characters to look like their own character, i’m working very hard with redraws to make sure there’s noticeable differences with their noses and eye shapes and such.  I want different skin colors and face shapes and so on, but the idea of different races on such a small planet and even the idea of tanned skin in a world without the sun to give one a tan seems odd to me? But there will be differences, because I always wanted there to be. This story will indeed cover some heavy topics. Including but not limited to, alcohol, death, suicide, murder, mental and physical disorders and illnesses, such as DID, alzheimer’s, dementia, memory issues, abandonment, and a form of racism. All things are not straight out talked about or referenced, but lightly implied.  I took inspiration from a lot of things. (including places, animals, other stories and people) And I will not refer to any of it within my story, such as DID. There is already too much falseness and other wrong info on that and other things. I do not trust myself to paint it in a good light, nor a correct light. And will re-frame from actually stating a character has an identity disorder. The idea this world knows of DID and would use the same word is also something I question. But the characters disorder is based on DID. (Also, it’s Tobias.) The idea of genders is something that’s a toss up. I’ve never said anything of the sort and would rather not say anything. The idea that they have genders or sexuality is just something I don’t really want to think about and is rarely mentioned. The idea of love and such is mentioned, purely more for a joke/bit. But still I don’t wish to think of my characters with genders or those parts no matter what I refer to them as. Not mention these characters still aren’t human. I do use She/he/they pronouns for my characters and as of now have used phases like, “That guy” But, it’s become a personal running joke I want to make clear at the start of my story that it was translated and adapted to fit this worlds standers of word form. There are roughly 25 characters as of now, only five main characters, or should I say, five characters that get there point of view expressed. And about six support characters, and the rest are minor support characters. Some of these characters are only mentioned, or referenced, as an attempt to build the world. Questions are always open, and this story is undergoing many changes and constant consideration. As I learn, grow and improve my skills.  I have no hope or want for this to get big or anything of the sort. this is for fun. 100%. If it looks like I talk about this a lot, but never have anything to show for it, it’s because I want it to be perfect or close to it before I show anything. Which will be never, because I can never make perfect. I’m just trying to do the best I can and am pushing the limits of my skills to get there.  I should note, I am fine, I’m not “Pushing” myself. Which is why it’s taking the time it is.  I am really working on character personalities and keeping them coherent and sane along with the same. And talking about all this helps with that. As for now, I know what I want to do, and where I want my story to go, i’m just figuring out how to execute it best.  I’m more skilled in writing where I describe things, mainly emotions and the scene it’self. Along with script writing. I’m not skilled with writing conversations which is a large part of my story. Same with drawing backgrounds or anything that isn’t people. So my story so far reads a lot like a script due to how the conversations are laid out and due to how I describe how each thing is done. This is something I want to get a bit away from because it was purely so I wouldn’t get lost and confused with who was talking and the emotion/feel of each scene.  That’s because I have the attention span and instruction following skills of a carrot. I use my characters names far too many times along with a lot of other things I use for self help clarity which I hope to fix by the end. I do think it’d be cool to start dropping parts of the story and other things of what I have done, with the note that it could change. I feel it’d be fun, but i’m very hesitant to do so.  I do wish to make character bios and such for them all at some point and just have a post that lays down what has been decided so if anyone wants they can follow along with the process. But, that’s all a toss up as of now. Thank-you for reading, and for your time, I hope you have an amazing day! And I dearly apologize for this length! 

[whatismarvel]

ruin the friendship • tony stark

summary; in which Tony admits his feelings for you.

warnings; i’m terrible at titles omg. fluff. bad writing. one curse word. unedited (the usual).

a/n; this has been sitting in my drafts for a few months now so I thought why not finish it. also I’m kind of experimenting with my writing so I apologize if this is extra shitty. enjoy loves.

“Peter. No.” You jokingly warned him.

“C’mon! He’s never gonna see it coming!” He threw a pillow at you from across the room. “Peter it’s 1am! He’s asleep.” You retorted. “As should we be!”

“We both know Mr. Stark does not sleep.” He stated matter-of-factly.

You sighed, nodding your head in agreement. “Secondly, it’s Saturday. Live a little Y/N!” He grinned.

Picking up the pillow that was recently thrown at you, you flung it back at Peter. He grunted as it clashed with his face. You giggled, taking a seat next to him on your bed.

“So are you in?”

You rolled your eyes. “We aren’t robbing a bank Parker, we’re just going to spray him with silly string.” You reminded, grabbing the can of silly string from behind you.

“Let’s go!” He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of your room.

___

“Do we really have to do this?” You questioned as you both reached the door. It finally dawned on you how dumb of an idea this was. “Too late to back down now Y/N.”

“Is it?” You wondered out loud. He shrugs, “Unless you want me to tell Mr. Stark about your little secret.” He says casually, smirking.

Your eyes widened, “Mr. Parker, are you blackmailing me?”

“Maybe.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, darling.”

You rolled your eyes once more at the spider boy and huffed. He was the only one who knew about your crush on Mr. Stark and you sure as hell was going to keep it that way.

Peter knocked on the door, the loud sound echoing throughout the halls. “There are assassins sleeping in this compound Peter!” You hissed.

“Right! Sorry-Should we just go in?”

“I guess.” You chuckled, shaking your can. You didn’t really have much to lose at this point. Wearing an old t-shirt of Peter’s and pajama shorts, you were going to silly string Iron Man himself. This was one for the books.

Peter instantly went into stealth mode, he quietly opened the door, trickling in, with you following closely behind.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Tony snarled, not even looking up from his desk.

“B-But how the fuck did you hear us?” Peter exasperated.

“Mr. Parker this is my compound I know everything that goes on in here.” He chuckled.

“Did you know Sam sometimes sleepwalks?”

“Oh my god. You knew that too?” You jumped in the conversation.

“Yeah-one time he-“

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay! Okay! Yes I know Sam is a sleepwalker! Can we get back to why you two are in my room at-1 in the morning?”

“Well, Y/N wanted-“ Peter started.

“Wha- Don’t blame this on me! This was your plan!” You jokingly punch his arm.

“Plan? Were you going to assassinate me?”

“We were going to spray you with silly string.” Peter muttered, to himself mostly.

“What? Didn’t hear you Parker.”

He took a deep breath. “We were going to spray silly string at you!” He blurted out.

“Peter,” Tony sighed, “That’s pretty lame.”

“Tell ‘em Mr.Stark.” You muttered, plopping down on his bed as you tried to contain your laughter. Peter was flushed right now.

“Hey! You were part of this too! Stop laughing.” Tony accused, a smile playing on his lips.

“I’m only here because he blackmailed me.” You confessed through laughs.

“Oh really? What’s he got on you Y/N?”

“Something that I’ll take to the grave.” You revealed, trying to regain your composure but failing miserably as you broke out in another fit of giggles when you caught a glimpse of Peter pouting like a little child.

Tony grinned at your laughing state. The way your eyes crinkled as it formed tears of joy and the way your hair lightly bounces around your face each time you laugh, the way it caresses your skin has him feeling some type of way. Your smile disappears for a second as you try to catch your breath, and Tony feels as if his heart stops. A frown is slowly creeping onto his face until he sees your smile reappearing. His mood changes instantly and he feels something. He doesn’t know where it’s coming from, his whole body is tingly but he has a hunch it’s his heart causing this mess. His insides are all warm and fuzzy and his stomach is doing backflips as he is just so smitten by you and it’s like he’s back in high school again.

With your breathing steady, you realize how red your face must be. You’re shaking your head and grinning as you come down from your high. You can feel a pair of eyes on you and you’re suddenly nervous. You don’t bother looking up, you know it’s Tony. Your heart is beating so loud you’re wondering if he can hear it from here. Or worse, if Peter can. He’d never let you hear the end of it. You’re trying your best to not act like your stomach is filled with butterflies, your palms are sweating and a blush appears on your cheeks, for a second you thought your face was on fire.

You constantly reminded yourself that this was just a silly crush that would blow over soon, but goddamn Tony made that incredibly difficult for you to believe every time he was near you.

You both knew there was something there, but Tony and you never acted on your feelings. Why? You didn’t know. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was the thought of ruining your friendship. You really didn’t know.

“This was an absolute failure,” Peter started, “No shit, Sherlock.” You giggled, interrupting him. He rolled his eyes, “I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.” He whined and scuffed out the room.

“He’s such a drama queen.” Tony uttered.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You chuckled. “I should probably go-“ You were cut off by Tony’s phone ringing.

“Hey Pep! How was your flight?”

You instantly got off his bed at the sound of her name. You didn’t want to hear this conversation. You already felt sick, heading for the door you were stopped by a crumpled up piece of paper hitting your arm. You glanced at Tony, ‘Stay’ he mouthed to you. Your heart fluttered at that.

You opened your mouth to reply but he motioned for you to sit on his bed. You didn’t know what to do. You stood there pondering for a good 10 seconds as Tony wrote something down on a piece of paper. He looked up at you, his brows furrowed as he noticed your uneasiness.

“Pep, I’m gonna have to call you back.” Your eyes widened, you didn’t want him to cut his conversation short because of you. It’s not like you didn’t like Pepper. She was a sweet woman, but god did you envy her and Tony’s relationship. Even though they weren’t together anymore, it still got to you.

“What’s up with you?” He queried, strolling towards you, his eyes never leaving your figure as he plops down on the side of his bed. He pats a seat next to him, you hesitantly sit.

The tension in the air? You could cut it with a knife.

You sigh. “Just tired is all.” You reply, your back hitting the plush bed. You’re not even that close to his pillows but you can smell his cologne. The scent lingers in your mind as you relax. You feel comfortable now. He hums in agreement.

“So, what does Parker got on you?” He asks, shifting his position on the bed so he faces your horizontal figure. He picks up your dangling feet and places it on his lap. You fix your body to suit and now your head hits his pillows. God, it feels so right, being here, lying on these pillows. Him touching you so lovingly. It feels too good to be true. You heart is beating a mile a second and you swear he can sense it with the way your chest moves.

You’re in such a serene trance that you forgot he even asked a question. “Hmm?” Tony mutters. “What? Oh it’s nothing, really.” You shook your head, trying to play it cool.

“Is that Parker’s shirt?” He asks out of the blue, lines appearing on his forehead as he pays closer attention to your choice of garment. “Uhh. It is actually.” You laughed uncomfortably. He locks eyes with you and you know this is something different.

“Hmph,” he grunts.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You questioned, his disapproval slightly exciting you.

“Oh nothing.” He says sarcastically getting out of the bed, leaving you dumbstruck.

“Are you serious right now?” You groaned as your feet hit the soft bed. You were enjoying the very rare and intimate moment you had together and he had to ruin it with his antics. You sighed, as you got out of his bed and faced him.

“Are you? I don’t know how else to say this Y/N. So I’m just gonna come right out and say it.” He rambled, putting his hands on his hips.

“Well?” You ask, folding your arms. He was just blabbering right now and you were in no mood for his jokes.

He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it. “W-Well-“

“Spit it out Tony. C’mon you can do it.” You encouraged him, the faster he’d say what he needed too, the better for you. You couldn’t handle all this anxiousness.

“I like you Y/N! Okay? Are you happy? There you go I said it!” He says sassily, as he rounds his desk and sits on his chair.

His eyes fell on you. Your whole body was frigid. You were stunned, to say the least. Your mouth was dry as you tried to form coherent sentences. “I-I’m sorry. C-Could you repeat t-that?”

“Uhmm, no.” He murmurs, twirling a pen between his thumb and forefinger. He never breaks sight of you as he tries to appear calm outside but inside, he’s a mess. He’s freaking out. The thought of him ruining the friendship frightened him. He didn’t want to scare you away. He could handle the rejection but living without you just seemed like a hell he didn’t deserve.

“A-Are you serious Tony?” You stammered, unsure if he was playing games with you.

“Yes Y/N goddamn, you’re making me nervous!”

You laughed, walking towards him behind his desk. You leaned against it. “I like you too, Tony.”

“Oh, thank god!” Tony blurted, clasping his hands together, making you giggle. “I love that sound.” He mutters softly, standing up from his chair. Tony gazes into your eyes, and everything just feels right in that moment.

“Can I kiss you?” His voice is soft with affection and you melt, right then and there.

“Yes.” Your voice just below a whisper.

“Can’t hear you.” He teased softly.

“Tony I swear-“ His lips are on yours in a second, his hands gently brush your hair back and then tenderly cups your face. You can feel his grin through the kiss and it makes you so happy. You’ve both waited for this moment to happen so long and it’s just magical for the both of you.

You both break apart, your gazes linger as you stare lovingly into each other’s eyes. Tony places his hands on your hips and brings you closer to him. He goes to kiss you again, but you jump apart when the door flings open.

“What the fu-“ Tony begins, only to stop when he sees who’s at the door.

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now, Sam. You little shit.” He mutters, making you chuckle.

[nxjacbbnc-blog]

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