#why would I do that to myself. why would I make me have to figure out how that’d work

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

You Had Me at...

He didn't know why he was even still awake.

No, that was a lie.

He knew exactly why, but he also knew it was stupid and silly and completely outside the realm of possibility. He just hadn't been able to help himself.

He'd stayed up and watched the clock, waited as the minutes ticked by until it was officially Valentine's Day, and held his breath...

And then nothing.

He'd huffed out a laugh, telling himself he was more embarrassed than disappointed because honestly, what had he expected?

Evan to show up at the door to declare his love? To want to get back together?

To want him?

That wasn't Tommy's life. That was fantasy. The stuff of romcoms, not the real world.

Reality was getting into his ratty pajama pants and an ancient, worn-soft LAFD t-shirt (that still had a B and a U and a half-peeled Y on the back) and accepting the fact that he was once again alone for this stupid, fake holiday...that he absolutely loved.

Sighing, he made his way out to the kitchen and dug around in his freezer until he found the pint of cookie dough ice cream that Evan had left there and Tommy had been avoiding for the past three months. What was the point of leaving it? Evan was never coming back. It wasn't like he'd be there to get mad at Tommy for eating it and why let it go to waste?

He stood there, staring at the ice cream.

His therapist would have plenty to say about him struggling to let himself have things, but that was a problem for Tuesday Tommy.

...screw it.

He was eating the ice cream.

Tommy snatched the container out of the freezer and set it down on the counter, ignoring its accusing stare as he grabbed a spoon out of the drawer.

"This is for the best," he muttered. "I'm putting us both out of our misery, okay? We can't wait forever. He's never coming back."

He tapped the spoon against the lid, frowning when a faint knock sounded back.

"What the fu-"

The knock again, louder this time and clearly coming from the front door.

Tommy set the spoon down beside the ice cream, grabbed his phone, and crept down the hallway toward the door. He was still debating calling 911 when he caught sight of a familiar silhouette through the window and his heart stopped.

He'd know those curls anywhere.

Evan startled, hand still raised when Tommy whipped open the door.

"Shit," he said, eyes going wide. "I mean, not sh-not that, I just...I wasn't expecting you to answer so quickly and I'm still kind of working on what I'm going to say..."

"...did you want me to close the door and give you a minute?" Tommy asked after another weighted beat passed between them. He'd stand back in the hallway for as long as it took. As long as Evan needed.

"No!" Evan jolted forward, hand flexing like he was ready to catch it - as if Tommy would willingly close a door between them ever again. "I..."

Tommy waited, drinking in the sight of Evan as he fidgeted on the front porch. He itched to tug the lip free that he was chewing on, but he was equally afraid to touch him.

He didn't think he could bear it if this turned out to be a dream.

"I watched them all," Evan blurted out suddenly. He rubbed at the back of his neck, cheeks going red. "All of the movies I could remember from your shelves. T-the romance ones? And then Maddie recommended some more."

Tommy didn't know what to make of that. "Why-"

"Because everyone said I wasn't allowed to bake anymore," Evan said, as though that was a sentence that would clear things up. "But I had to do something, right? To stop myself from calling you every second that I was awake."

Wait, what?

"And I figured, if I couldn't stop thinking about you, then at least, I could maybe get inside your head and try to understand where we went wrong - where I went wrong," Evan barreled on like he wasn't completely upending Tommy's brain. "I watched them all and in every single one, ever single one, the couple has a fight and b-breaks up because, well, for all kinds of reasons, but it was because they were always missing what was right in front of them."

Evan took a deep, steadying breath, bracing himself on the doorframe. "I said a lot of stuff that night, but I missed saying the most important thing of all. I felt it, felt it so much it felt too big to say, but that was a mistake." He looked up, meeting Tommy's gaze with bright eyes.

"I love you, Tommy. I love you. I'm sorry I did everything backwards and managed to leap ahead all at the same time." Evan shook his head, blinking back tears as Tommy fought to hold back his own.

"I'm sorry I ever made you doubt that what I feel for you is real," he said "The most real and right thing I think I've ever felt in my life and I don't want to lose you. The last few months have been...I felt like I was missing a part of myself. Like my heart has been out there in the world without me and I've hated every minute of it."

"Please," Evan said, searching Tommy's face, hope threaded through every letter. "I know we have a lot we need to talk about, but can we - can we try again?"

Tommy took a shaky breath, still half-convinced he was about to wake up and have all of this ripped away from him.

"Please say something," Evan whispered, his shaky plea finally snapping Tommy into action.

He reached out to cup Evan's cheek, stroking a thumb against his skin as he leaned in. "You had me at 'shit'," Tommy said, a helpless smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

Evan's mouth dropped open as Tommy's words sank in. Relief warred against an extreme pout as he poked at Tommy's chest. "Did you seriously just Jerry Maguire me? I can't even-"

The rest of his protest was cut off when Tommy yanked him inside the house for a searing kiss, kicking the door shut behind them.

"I love you too," Tommy murmured against Evan's lips as he pressed him into the wall. He tried to get the apology he'd been agonizing over for the last three months out between kisses. "I'm sorry I ran. I got scared and stupid and I want this. Want you. Want everything."

Evan groaned, grabbing at him as he gave back as good as he got, kissing every part of Tommy he could reach without letting him move an inch out of his arms.

"Stay," Tommy gasped when they finally broke apart for air. "Please stay and just sleep beside me and we can talk properly in the morning?" He wasn't prepared to let Evan out of his sight any time soon.

"Try and get rid of me," Evan said with a little laugh as he rested his forehead against Tommy's. They kissed once more, softly, knowing they had time now. Letting out a happy sigh, Evan dropped a tiny peck on the end of Tommy's nose before releasing him and moving toward the kitchen.

Tommy went to lock the door, freezing when Evan let out a garbled noise of outrage.

"Is this my ice cream?"

Biting back a grin, Tommy headed toward Evan and his continuing grumbles...

And let his grin actually spread when he rounded the corner to find Evan standing there, holding out a second spoon.

[glassrowboat]

Letters For You

Valentine’s Day letters from Anaxa, Aventurine, Gallagher, Jing Yuan, Phainon, Ratio, Reca, Sampo, Sunday

Wrote these for my online friends, so I hope you all have a lovely Valentine’s. Love you all, xoxo

Anaxa

My fellow scholar,

I won't lie and pretend as if I wouldn't rather be spending my time doing something actually worthwhile like studying, but whenever I finally bring myself to put pen to paper in my hectic schedule I find myself unable to use my quill for its intended purpose. I bought it for note taking and truly wished to use it for that purpose, only for me to find myself unable to focus on the words before me as I am stuck thinking of you.

You see, these were originally meant to be notes, so excuse the scribbling at the top. It's all mindless drivel and half-baked theories I'm certain you're already planning to jump at. Your curious mind never rests, just like mine. Which is why I'm so loath to admit that even us scholars need a break.

With that in mind, I ask that you find me at our usual spot to enjoy the current festivities. I'm sure once we're done, it will leave us both refreshed and ready to return to work.

In best regards,

Anaxagoras

Aventurine

Dearest friend,

I already know what you're going to say about the gifts I have left for you. “It's too much or you should save your money on something else, Aven.” To the point I can almost hear the words ringing in my ear in that scolding tone of yours. It's just as bad as the higher ups scolding me for breaking the cornerstone and yet I can't help but want to spoil you.

But I'll be nice. Just this once.

Instead of dinner at another fancy restaurant you'll roll your eyes at, let's just get takeout from your favorite place and we can play dress up with all the clothes I got us. And yes some are for me, too. I'm sure if you dig around a bit you'll find a particular lacy item you and I can both agree has its merits.

Until tonight,

Aventurine

P.S. No overtime. I promise.

Gallagher

Babe,

I'm sure you've already figured out the bag of candy is for you. I even wrapped it up with a neat bow and everything for ya, so I hope you like it. If you want, we can even try making a drink out of a few of them like we did with the cotton candy vodka. Remember that? It was interesting, that's for sure.

We can even have what's left after dinner tonight. I'm cooking. Just for you, too. I was thinking of Clockie Pizza with all those toppings you like, and we could have it at the lounge? I'm sure Dreamjolt Hostelry will have open seats even on Valentine’s Day, knowing how dead the place usually is. I'll even dress up if you want me to. Though it might just be best to put myself in your or Sioban care to choose an outfit. Either way, I'm trusting you here, so don't let me down.

Your man,

Gallagher

Jing Yuan

My darling,

It's a beautiful day out, don't you think? The sky is clear and bright blue, the wind is just right, and the sun as artificial as it might be is perfect for dozing under its shining rays. I even found a record to play a song I remember from days long past. The only thing missing on this perfect day is you. And my work to be done, too.

I take it you're wrapped in endless stacks of paperwork just as I am, aren't you? Even after all the time, they managed to keep you this week. I'm merely lucky I'll have you all to myself once the day ends. The weekend will be ours to enjoy the garden, eat good food, play with our adorable little lion, and each other.

While we may not get Valentine’s Day together between your work and mine, I am happy to make sure we still get to enjoy being together. Besides, choosing only one day to love you when I would rather do so every day for every year you're willing to share with me is far more appealing than showing you appreciation only on special occasions.

Yours,

Jing Yuan

Phainon

My favorite shopkeeper,

Time really does flash by in an instant, huh? It feels like only yesterday that I came to The Holy City with the weight of the prophecy, both bearing a heavy weight on and lifting my shoulders all at once. Back then, I was ready to face the world as a Chrysos Heir alongside the others of golden blood without daring to think anything could stop me. I was going to be the one who takes Nikador's Coreflame, and I'll be the demigod of Strife. It will be a title I wear with honor.

And that is still my intention, mind you, but I've found something else that fills me with just as much conviction as being a hero to the masses. Do I even have to say what it is? It's you.

Ever since we first ran into each other at your shop and you were giving me a side eye (yes, I saw that) at all the questions I was asking about your collection of antiques I knew I would be willing to take a moment to step away from the duty I have sworn to uphold to simply be with you.

So I guess what I'm asking is: will you be my valentine?

Your hero,

Phainon

Ratio

My dear,

Today has already been full of one headache after the next from students deeming fit to load my desk with gifts to dealing with Aventurine texting me about how many roses is “too much.” At this point, all I want to do is go home and fall into your embrace.

Still, I have tests to grade. And from what I've seen of them, it's looking like some of them have finally learned how to pick up a thing or two after I started to use the method you suggested last time. As loath as I am to admit, I never would have thought to have my student role play as great mathematicians from the past to keep them engaged. It worked.

You truly astound me. Always finding new ways to show that creative thinking plays a part in being knowledgeable as well. You put the term genius to shame, my dear.

Sincerely,

Veritas Ratio

Reca

My love interest,

I have met countless actresses and actors who have been praised as if they were Aeons themselves. Looks, skills, the way the camera is naturally drawn to them, why you could name it all! Yet they all pale in comparison to you, my snookums.

No shot is truly complete without your radiance, without your smile, or without just the thought of you lingering in the back of my mind and changing how I see each scene laid out before me. You have changed how I view romance, entirely flipping the genre on its head for me to make something entirely new and unique. You inspired me in a way I never would have thought possible despite all the stories of star-crossed lovers I know. You have simply made me, for lack of a better word, more.

The only thing I could possibly regret about you is not meeting you sooner.

So allow me to make up for all the time we have had apart, my honey bee, by coming to a play with me as my valentine.

Your charming director,

Reca

P.S. I have entrusted the Assistant Director to be in your care today while I am away. She shall take care of you in my stead while I am away, my valentine.

Sampo

Boss,

It's me, your good old buddy, your pal, your bestest guy, Sampo! Now, now, before you go and throw this letter in the trash or worse yet, set my poor heartfelt words on fire, hear me out. I only have the purest intentions for you today, and that is on my honest word as a businessman.

It is Valentine’s Day, after all, and I can't have such a profitable holiday be soured for my favorite customer. That would just hurt my coin purse. So to ensure that doesn't come to pass, I took it upon myself to give you a gift as a show of gratitude for all you've done for me these past few years.

I'm sure you've noticed them by now.

Now, I hope you like the roses I left for you. They have a bit of an extra boom to them if you know what I mean. Just not the bomb kind. Though you do always manage to blow my heart away so who knows, maybe it is.

Your number one guy,

Sampo

P.S. Okay you can light the letter on fire now just know that if you do I'll be left with nothing to do but drink at the bar until I'm crying my eyes out all by my lonesome. Orrrrr…you could join me. I would never complain about getting some time in your delightful company.

Sunday

My dove,

This is my first Valentine’s Day away from Penacony, let alone on the Astral Express with a lover I can call my own.

I find myself still adjusting to the sudden change. There's no one watching my every move and expecting utter perfection from me now but me. I still find myself checking my clothes, assuring my feathers are neat, and shining my halo to the point that it shines in the light of the stars surrounding us. They remind me of just how vast this galaxy truly is. How my past choices were a flicker of a flame to everyone else, but to me, it was my last ditch effort at saving a dying light.

Everything is different now.

I find myself mourning.

Only for you to walk in the room and wash each thought away like the oncoming tide to a cluttered shore just with your gaze and a twitch of your lips. It's like I'm hit with a revelation again: that things do in fact get better.

So please, keep smiling as you always do, my valentine.

All the best,

Sunday

[leashybebes]

one | two | three

"It's - it's hard," Buck says, annoyed at himself. "It shouldn't be hard."

Karen tilts her head, her face a picture of slightly drunken puzzlement. "Why not?"

"I'm a grown ass man."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Buck opens his mouth. Closes it again.

"Maybe if I'd worked this shit out earlier he wouldn't have left me."

He hasn't said that before. Hasn't even really let himself think it. It's not about him. Except for the parts of it that are.

Karen's whole face softens. "Oh, Buck."

Buck looks away. "No, it's. It's not about him. Not really. I'm just. Embarrassed, I guess. Twelve year olds figure this shit out."

Karen shrugs. "So do seventy year olds. It's okay, Buck."

"I just…" Buck lets his head drop down onto his folded arms. "I told him I was an ally, right? Like, on a date. I said that. Out loud."

Karen scratches her fingers through his hair. "You know, before I came out, I used to get so mad about homophobic shit kids at school would say."

"Yeah?" Buck addresses it down at the tabletop.

"Mm-hm. The ally to queer pipeline is a time honored tradition," she tells him.

He makes himself look up at her. There's no judgment on her face at all.

"I've never had a problem," he says, picking his words as carefully as a night of mixing drinks on an empty stomach when he's already exhausted will allow. "With anyone. Gay or straight or anything. So, like. Why didn't I know?"

Karen pats his hand, after a failed attempt where she mostly pats the table.

"You get there when you get there, it's okay."

"No, but." Buck screws up his courage. "Makes me wonder if I did have a problem. Deep down. You know? Like why would I not let myself acknowledge it before - him?"

"Oh, Buck, no. Internalized homophobia - biphobia? - is a bitch."

Buck thinks it's meant to be reassuring, but all he hears, like a heartbeat, is homophobia, homophobic, homophobe.

[ethereacals]

so american <3

Chapter Four: Operation: Get Him Back!

synopsis: Remus grows attached to an American transfer student from Ilvermorny

trope: idiots in love, grumpy x sunshine

pairing: remus lupin x american!reader

(R is alluded and mentioned to be in gryffindor)

content: r and remus are seperated ):, but not for long <3

wc: 1.2k

series masterlist

a/n; happy valentines day!

EVERYTHING WENT WRONG so quickly.

And you were still trying to wrap your head around the situation regarding Remus.

“I trust you, Remus.”

“Can I kiss you— Remus?”

“I—I don’t want to force you to do anything—“

He lashed out.

“Why do you want to kiss me? Out of everyone?” He moved himself back a bit, and you frowned softly.

You were drunk and still recovering from your closet incident.

“You don’t want to kiss Sirius?”

“I— no I don’t want to kiss him! I’m asking you!”

“Y/n, you don’t want to kiss me.”

“Remus—“

“Y/n, you don’t want to kiss me.”

“If you don’t like me, Remus. You can just say it.”

“I’m just protecting you!”

“Protecting me from what?”

“Myself!”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause i’m a bloody Werewolf, okay?”

Once Remus had realized what he said— silence fell upon both of you.

“Remus..—“

“I have to go.”

“No— please— Remus—“

“I’m dangerous, Y/n. And if you’re smart, you’ll never speak to me again.”

Never speak to him again? Absolutely not.

Were you a bit bold in asking him to kiss you so abruptly? Absolutely, but why did Remus assume you weren’t being truthful and wished to kiss someone else?

And why did he run away?

Did he mean to say he was a were-wolf?

You needed to know more, and potentially bridge the gap between yourself and the boy of your dreams.

But where to start?

So, you came up with a plan. (after you spent hours being inconsolable, [sorry, dorcas.])

Operation: get him back.

First; You needed to speak with Sirius (or James, he works too.) immediately, figure out if Remus really is what he said he was.

Second; Explain to Lily your situation, perhaps she would know how to make amends? They do study together.

and Third; Regain your friendship with Remus and vow to never fall in love with him ever again.

That third step will be the hardest.

"JAMES!"

The bespectacled boy quickly pivoted to lay his eyes on you.

"Y/n? What's the matter?" He strutted across the common room towards you, and Remus shared some uncomfortable eye-contact with you for a moment.

"Um.. we need to talk somewhere... private." You urged, all while ushering him away and into the portrait hole near the entrance.

"Merlin, seriously- what's all of the fuss about?" He whined.

"It's about Remus, last night- He took me to the Boathouse after the whole incident with Lockhart and- I was stupid and jumped the gun and asked him to kiss me-"

"Stop, you asked him to kiss you?" James gawked.

"Yes, now-"

"That's rich."

"Stop interrupting me!" You snapped.

"The point is, Remus freaked out and blurted out that he was a.. a werewolf- and ran off and I don't know what to do and-"

"Calm down, okay? Wow, that is incredibly unlike Remus to just blurt that out." James perceived from your situation.

"What do I do?"

"I'll talk to him, try to help him sort out his feelings."

"Godric bless you, James Potter." You patted his cheek in thanks.

"Mum always told me I was a god-send." He beamed, clearly a bit full of himself but you know what they say- James had an ego the size of a lake but a heart to match it.

"Do make sure he knows that I'm not... like- against lycanthropes?" You suggested gingerly.

"I'll make sure." James grinned, before going back to his company.

First step- Complete.

REMUS IS EXTREMELY AND irrevocably torn.

It's been three days since you have spoken, three.

And he's beside himself with how upset he is.

He didn't mean to lash out, he really didn't.

"Remus! That's the girl of your dreams!" Sirius argued from across the couch.

"Maybe, she was meant to be- but I fucked everything up!" Remus took a long sip from his fire-whisky.

"Then go un-fuck everything up!" Peter cheered, clearly missing the memo.

"It's not that easy! I told her about my- problem.. and she probably doesn't want anything to do with me anymore!" Remus defended.

"No, mate. She distincively told me that she had no problem with your problem." James explained simply.

"Ha! I knew she wouldn't care!" Sirius barked.

"Still, I told her to never speak to me ever again."

"Ooh.. that's low, mate." Peter ceased his mindless celebration and silently judged Remus' life descisions all while taking a bit out of his bread.

"Do you think I don't know that?"

"Well- you need to fix it! Both of you need too!" Sirius slammed his hand down on the coffee table.

"I know- but how?" Remus sighed, his face falling into her hands.

"Perhaps when you have to meet for astronomy?" James suggested. "That's not till Saturday." "At the Slytherin Vs. Gryffindor game?" Sirius pointed out. "She might not even go." "Send her a lovely letter from an anonymous sender to meet somewhere rather romantic and pretty?" Peter joked, but Remus' face lit up.

"Yes! Peter, you are a genius!"

"What did I say?" Peter asked, confused.

But Remus couldn't find time to respond, as he rushed to his parchment and quill.

This was going to be the best damn letter ever written.

"SO, REMUS ISN'T SPEAKING to you, hm?" Lily combed her fingers through your hair.

"I totally messed everything up." You cupped your face into your hands.

"No- honey, you didn't. Everyone was a bit intoxicated and you should never feel the need to apologize for liking someone." She wrapped her arms around you consolingly.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Lily." You smiled softly.

"Same to you, lovely." Lily cooed, brushing a stray hair out of your face.

"What do I do, Lily?"

"Well... Remus does like chocolate." She suggested wirily.

"But what kind?" You turned to face her.

"Well he loved Galaxy Minstrels, but that's a muggle chocolate-"

"I'll get him those then." You announced.

"Y/N, Galaxy Minstrels aren't sold at Hogsmeade." Lily warned, an expression of concern for your determination.

"Those are his favorites, right? I'm getting those for him come hell or high water." You insisted, and Lily couldn't hold back her smile.

"You're going to bribe him with chocolate?" She chuckled softly.

"Exactly." You smirked, a wicked smirk if Lily had any input.

A FEW DAYS LATER, the chocolates so graciously provided by your parents arrived.

And you had recieved a letter from someone to meet you by the Black Lake after hours.

And with some help from Lily (and a hint from James), you were almost certain it was from Remus.

You had flowers and chocolates in hand, and you looked like you had just stepped out of a grocery store with an post-valentines sale.

You were nervous, understandably so.

As the Black Lake came into view under the star-stricken night sky- he came into view.

Remus, and was it a relief to actually be able to speak with him again.

You stood infront of eachother, silent as a grave.

Godric, let this go well.

Tune in next time on; so american (:

(this one is a bit short, i've got cool stuff in the works!)

so american taglist;

@hisparentsgallerryy @lydpop @amatoanima @po3tbbygirl @thequeen0fhearts @yourlittlefries @jsprien213 @liviessun @wandasbitch22 @michtellch @hellokitty-girl666 @bmyva1entine @n1ght-vngel @anehkael @wolfstcr @assorted-knives @mrsblackx @moonyswifee @sunset-toast @sammyreid @wsplalala @msfandomsblog @yimthesynonym @flowerytombx @rubyinthebooks @

[factual-fantasy]

24 Asks! Thanks ya'll! 🐼

@holly-opal-2 (Sorry for the late reply!)

Aw <:( I'm so sorry to hear that. I hope that doesn't happen again.

Also of course they are! :}} I have always considered them as such 💞

Thank you! Happy (late) Valentines day! :DD

@stargirldrawsx3

Man, I feel you there. I'm sorry you weren't able to study. I hope things go well for you 🙏

@narrator-girlart

I saw Markiplier play it some weeks ago, but mostly forgot about it.. I was surprised to see it gain such traction on Tumblr. Maybe I'll have to go rewatch those videos and figure out why people love it so much :00 (I cant remember the events of the game 💀)

@dreamweave01

That could work!! :DDD

(ALSO THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!😭😭💞💞💞 )

Yeahhh.. I have been battling some health problems for almost a year now. Trying my best to work on it but thing's aren't going so well. <://

Thank you very much though, I hope the same for you! :))

@milk-powrit

Tom Nook is an angel, the "only good landlord" he's been called. And I agree! This might explain why though I didn't read all the way through- just skimmed over it and thought "yeah I think this has the right points"

@necropencil (Referencing this post)

AAA THANK YOU!! :DD

(I am also slowly going insane thanks to Wheeljack XDD)

@badlyblurry

XDD Well its like they say, great minds think alike! Also thank you so much!! :DDDD💞💞💞

AAAAA thank you!! :DD Or- you're welcome? <XDD

@shyzonkstudentlawyer

Oh wow, welcome back! :DD And thank you! I'm trying to try to work on my health and make improvements where I can manage it.. so far things have uh.. Well, it could be worse I suppose!😅

Also AAAA THANK YOU THANK YOU!! :DDD I'm so glad to hear you like what I've made! :DDDD

Now for you questions...

When it comes to the Welcome Home stuff, just imagine our world through a puppet/sesame street style show lens. They have the same food but its all colorful and has silly names. Their trees are like ours but they're crazy colors and grow fantasy fruit. Their technology develops like ours but its all colorful and silly. Etc, Etc-

Now for TADC... I hadn't actually thought about it <:0 maybe Sneemos jester hat things would flail around :0 I haven't thought about it otherwise though😔

Lastly, PFFF XDDD

(Item-dying woes post in ask)

😔You feel my pain.. I feel your pain........

@wolfie-777

:000! You heard it here folks! I'm silly!

She always looks lovely! :))

@tearsofsolace

AAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! :DDD🥰🥰💞💞💞💞

@eggswastaken

XDD That I did!

..Well, I actually got into it back in 2020-- but recently I have dragged myself back into the fandom a bit. 😂 The biggest obstacle I have to rejoining the fandom fully is just making time to sit down and rewatch the show.

I have such a hard time switching tasks and just doing something 💀 but hopefully I'll get there soon! <:)))

@minnesotamedic186

@little-goober

Oh yeah, sorry! I have very bad memory 😅 I can only really remember people by their profile pictures.

Also thank you so much! :)))

Thank you so much!! 🥰🥰

@bluetootsiepop

My advice is to study references closely. When it comes to making faces up/drawing faces without a reference? Like if its an OC? I'm afraid I cant think of any advice <:( I struggle with that a lot too. 😔

(Also thank you so much!! :DD )

@ourlifestooshort

I have drawn them, but I don't feel comfortable sharing my ref sheets.. Sorry! <:/

I looked up Tailgate with no mask and I will never sleep well again 💀

Also feel free to tell me anything you want about the comics! I don't plan on reading them 😔 I only plan on rewatching Transformers: Prime.

@bitesyoubitesyouchomp

SCEAMSSSS THANKYOUUU 😭😭 THAT'S ALL SO SWEET IM IN TEARS💞💞💞

@beryl-shade

Imagine if my blood was blue XD I'd be a transformer!

[astarionancuntnin]

Bad Blood (Chapter 2)

summary: astarion was cast out by the sorceress following his confession. he wants to blame her, he really does, but deep down he can only blame himself for the course of actions that led him there.

rating: M

word count: 3.7k

pairing: astarion x tav (previously femtav!reader, sorcerer!tav)

cw: angst, astarion POV, near death experience, alternate Araj scene, reunion. full list on ao3

a/n: remember bad blood? this is her now, feel old yet? (aka woops i let this one sit for months)

guilty

chapter song inspo: bad blood (see what i did there) by boywithuke and 11 minutes by halsey

previous chapter - read on ao3 - next chapter (soon, i swear)

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or keep reading down below~

Toxic apathy

You're way too good for me

You're better off all by yourself

Stoned, cold, losing sleep

You're way too cool for me

You're probably with somebody else

It's bad, bad blood

-

Gone?!

“Are you completely out of your mind?!” Astarion shouted. “Do you have any idea what is out there?” “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she sneered. “You seem to have a knack for plans — why don’t you craft something out now?”

He stared at her in disbelief, his previous anguish turned to outrage in a matter of seconds. Leaving now after everything he had done for her, everything they had gone through—

“I won’t repeat myself, Astarion,” she continued, breaking his train of thoughts. “You either leave, or I’ll make you.”

He scoffed, “Come off it now, darling. I hardly believe that you could get on your feet with your injuries, let alone cast whatever spell you have in mind that would rid you of my presence.”

He spoke as if he could change her mind, as if his masquerade of charms had any powers left over her, but deep down he knew he had no choice; he could either leave of his own volition now, or she would make him leave in a more brutal way. Even injured, he could see the bright halo of sorcery around her wrists, threatening to destroy her feeble bandages. Not something he was interested in seeing unfold — not if he were on the receiving end of it.

“Fine,” he said, before she could do anything she would regret, with his tone cold and detached. “If this is how you choose to see this, then so be it. Our relationship was nothing but another transaction — you are welcome for my services, and I hope the next time you blow yourself up, it takes you out.”

He spat the last word out with as much venom as he could muster, noticing the magic around her fists dimming as he turned around and left the tent in a furious haste, leaving her alone with her thoughts. 

Leaving was simply the best outcome for him. He had spent the night ruminating, his mind rushing with everything he wished he had said, and everything he regretted saying. Nothing had worked out, it was a bloody mess, and it was all…

Her fault. 

Her fault for acting out irrationally and not hearing him out when he needed it the most, her fault for being careless and almost dying by her own hand. Her own damn fault for not seeing that she needed him as much as he needed—

No. He didn’t need anyone. Not now, not before, not ever. It would do him no good to try and talk his way out of this mess now, either way — whether or not he wanted to, the sorceress wasn’t going to let him stay anywhere near her.

As he packed his things ��� grumbling and cursing her out under his breath all along — and set off on his own, watching the first lights of the morning sun peaking across the horizon, he barely spared a thought to his fellow companions; the same ones he couldn’t bring himself to give proper goodbyes. Deep down, ke knew he wasn’t wanted by anyone here — aside maybe from the godsdamned dog who whined as Astarion pet him and walked away — so it wouldn’t do anyone any good to lament on his fate and watch their crocodile tears as they pretended to be sad from his departure. He knew damn well someone, at least, would be glad.

It didn't matter, Tav or not — group or not — he needed to clear his head or he wouldn’t survive a minute on his own. Glooming over this situation wouldn’t fix it, and as much as he hated her for saying it, she was right; all he could do now was find a new plan. 

Going back was not an option — that much was clear — unless he had a death wish. 

This was for the best, he thought. After all, what good would it be for him to stick around, now of all time? Plus, this whole thing had been a chore since the beginning, something he forced on himself, once again. Maybe this was freedom at long last.

Now, he was on his own, again. Truly and utterly alone. As the dread started to set  into his mind, he shook his head, seizing himself back with an artificial confidence, one that accompanied him like a devil on his shoulder. 

No more pretending to care for any of them, no more sharing space with the beast whom he used to give his rations to — obviously only to cover up his real self, it's not like he cared for it, even after Scratch caught the bad habit to sleep next to his tent — no more witty banter with the wizard or the sorceress as they debated which one of them was the most powerful, no more so-called security from a group of weirdos who attracted all kinds of dangers more than anyone else in the realms, no more annoying laughs disturbing the peace around the campfire, no more…

Gods… what had he done? What was he doing, and what absolute foolery pushed him to say the things he had said? Out here, he was vulnerable again, weak, and without the artefact near, who knew how long he could make it before turning into one of those monstrosities? He could only hope they were near enough, if only to keep the effect of the artefact working on him. At best he could follow them around from the shadows, but what good would that do? No, that would only put a bigger target on his back.

To the Hells with them, I don't need them, he thought.

I don’t need her. 

I don’t need anyone.

I'll go to Baldur's Gate and face Cazador on my own.

He kept repeating this mantra to himself over and over again while he made his way through the Shadowlands, and as the words echoed in his head, he realised just how wrong they were. 

His false bravado might’ve worked once upon a time, before tadpoles, absolutes, and companionship, but now, the lies he tried to tell himself fell on deaf pointy ears, only getting him so far. 

In truth, he could never face Cazador alone. It was obvious, trying it now would only assure him a slow and painful death. Hells, he barely managed to hold his own among their group, often getting saved in extremis, whether it be a healing spell from Shadowheart or a close kill from Karlach, or even a destructive spell from Tav. 

Just as he thought about her, his eyes fell upon the carnage they had experienced at the Last Light Inn. How he felt when he thought she was dead, the suffocating fear of losing her, how he would've given everything he didn't have to have her back, only to ultimately lose her for what he had done.

No, he shook his head. I can’t go back. I can’t…

The walk to Baldur’s Gate promised to be lengthy, giving him plenty of time to think about a new plan, but his thoughts became conflicting; on one hand he was well aware of the impossibility of going back, but on the other, he refused to let it be the end, not after getting so far together, not after falling for her, whether or not it was part of the plan, and fuck this plan for putting him in that situation in the first place. 

But then… How could he show her that he cared? What could he possibly do to make her forgive him if she was the one who had cast him out in the first place? Chances are she’d cast a fireball at him the very moment her eyes laid on him again, no matter the risk it could impose on her — that much was made clear last night. As much as he wanted to fix this, he couldn’t put her life, and even less his, on the line so carelessly.

No matter what he would end up doing, the answers didn’t lay in the remains of this inn. Maybe, just maybe, travelling alone would allow him easier travels to Baldur’s Gate, where he could find something — anything — to fix this. 

Perhaps he could get her to see his side of it — truly, if she just understood better why he had manipulated her in the way he did, things wouldn’t have escalated that far. They wouldn’t have to stay apart, and she could forgive him for whatever tricks he had played on her, and they might even laugh about it! Ha! 

Really, when he took a step back from it all, this situation wasn’t as bad as it looked; only their first encounter truly had been intentional manipulation, the rest just came ever so naturally. Did it really count as a trick tactic if he had fallen for her as well? That part for certain wasn’t intentional, and if he could’ve, he would’ve avoided it. Wouldn’t have been in this mess otherwise, or it would be far less messy, probably. 

Maybe. Gods, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

If there was anything he was certain of, it was that if she met Cazador she would understand him instantly. She would probably kill him herself, which he would be curious to see how that would go down but also disappointed if he didn’t get to kill the bastard himself. Not a concern for now, he’s still far from within his Master’s reach, but he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. After seeing what kind of monster Astarion was subjected to for the last two centuries, she would surely empathise — or he liked to believe so.

Oh, wishful thinking.

Wait. That’s it! Make it so she meets Cazador, then they can kill him, and she can forgive him for tricking her. She had been so caring in the past, with further proof of his horrible past, she should forgive him. She had to—

Or at least, she would if he could reach the damned city in the first place, which wouldn't be possible with the troop of heavily guarded githyanki guarding its gate. Bloody Hells. Sneaky bastards hiding in the shadows, waiting to ambush the first sorry soul that would cross their path. Not Astarion, though, so here goes option A.

As he walked back to where he came from, Astarion realised it wouldn’t be an option either, as shadows and lost Harpers that had been claimed by the darkness roamed the lands he had previously crossed, putting him between a rock and a hard place. 

The choices were now either definitely die at the hand of ruthless, bloodthirsty giths who would decapitate him for having a tadpole, or potentially die against cursed soldiers he had faced before. The choice seemed obvious.

He opted for the silent approach, sneaking back on the trail he came from and taking out two undead soldiers before getting noticed by a third one who rang the alarm.

Potential death it is.

The first soldiers that threw themselves at him had been easy pickings; they were undead, after all. Well, not the smart kind. Not a single thought behind those lifeless eyes of theirs, as if something else was controlling them. Nothing but puppets to their master, now. 

The real trouble started when the shadows appeared closer and seemed to multiply as they surrounded Astarion. It wasn't long before he got overwhelmed by their numbers and let his concentration falter.

All it took was one shadow’s Firebolt, who he completely overlooked, hitting him in the back to render him incapacitated, making him wince in pain and his vision flash. This distraction was enough for an undead soldier to plunge its knife into his side and drive him on his knees, putting him out for the count.

This single fight had proven to him just how weak he really was on his own. It had barely been a few hours after his banishment, and upon his first encounter he had already failed, with no one this time around to cover for him or raise him back on his feet. No one aside from the overwhelming amount of enemies closing in on him. How he had believed he could make it to Baldur’s Gate alone is beyond him.

Surrounded, and yet, he had never felt more alone.

As his body landed over the corrupted ground, his ears rang and his surroundings began blending together, the sounds of the on-going fight fading in the back of his mind. Screams from all around led on, as if the fight continued long after he fell against the floor of this courtyard, but he couldn’t make out who was fighting whom at this point, only having a few moments of consciousness before feeling himself succumb to his wounds.

—

Death was oddly peaceful. After centuries without a semblance of rest, with his nights plagued by horrid memories — or even nightmares at times when his body and mind were too exhausted by the abuse — this was a welcome respite. 

Darkness beyond horizons, a cool feeling enveloping him like a cocoon, and true solitude. It almost felt nice. In a world where everyone else had abandoned him, the darkness felt like an old friend coming to take him away. 

“Oi, wake up!”

A harsh woman’s voice snapped him back into consciousness, roughly breaking his quiet world of emptiness and clearing out of the way the possibility of his death.

Of fucking course it couldn’t have been that easy. When had anything in his life been simple?

He groaned as his eyes opened, the bright light from a nearby fire lamp blinding him as he tried to take in his surroundings.

A plain old cell, by the looks of it. Larger than what he's used to, and much warmer than his standard under Cazador. Although, it was nothing like where he remembered passing out; how it had gotten here in the first place was a mystery he would need to uncover.

He managed to get on his feet with a hiss, clenching at his side to hold onto where he remembered getting hit, and although a sting remained, the wound was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re lucky we found you when we did.” He finally looked up to notice the guard sizing him up. “Those shadows would’ve claimed you if our patrol didn’t stumble on your fight.” She huffed, “The Absolute works in mysterious ways, but I won’t question where she guides us.”

“Right, our mighty Absolute,” he sighed, “what about her now?”

“You’re a True Soul, are you not?” She inquired.

“Well I— argh!”

Before Astarion could give his answer, he felt the reach of the guard standing on the other side of the gate from him, her own tadpole searching for his, lodged way back in his mind.

“I sense her power within you.” She says, breaking the connection between them. “Yes, you have been blessed by her indeed.” “Great!” He groaned, rubbing his temples. “Now that we’re all friends, I’m sure you'll agree that the Absolute would want me out of this cell, wouldn’t she?” The guard chuckled, “You’ll get out once our blood expert has examined you. She has a particular affinity for people of your kind.” “My kind?” He asked with a higher pitch in his tone. “As in absolutely dashing? Drop dead gorgeous, maybe?” “Ah! A vampire!” 

Another voice echoed in the larger rooms of the dungeons, this one coming from a drow woman who was just approaching his cell. The sound of her voice was quickly followed by an horrid smell assaulting Astarion’s senses.

“Why yes, that would be correct,” he said, trying to cover up his disgust from the smell, “what about it?”

“Do you have a name, spawn?”

So much for introductions. 

“Astarion,” he answered with a light scoff. “Who’s asking?”

“My name is Araj Oblodra, trader in blood and the sanguine arts.”

Oh, that was bound to be interesting, “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m in need of your services. You see, ever since I was a little girl, I've dreamed of being bit.”

“Wait—” he blurted out loud. “You want to be bitten?”

“To feel your life’s blood slipping away? To dance on the edge between life and death? Yes, I want it.”

And here I thought our group was weird.

“And why would I do that?”

She chuckled, “Do you truly believe you have a choice here?”

Choice or not, there was no way in the seven Hells that he would get anywhere near her, but he had to find a way out, and that might as well be it.

“Well, I’m simply not sure my Master would agree with this being the best usage of my talents, is all.”

Araj sighed heavily, “Well your Master isn’t around to get a say in this, so that leaves you with one option only. It’s simple — if you do, I’ll free you. I’m not asking for much, just a simple transaction.” She eyed him up with a salacious look. “It's either this, or we keep you for further… examinations. So, what will it be, spawn?

Gods, he did not want to stick around to find out what kind of twisted ideas she had for him, and he was thirsty. 

It would’ve been a nice meal, if her blood didn't absolutely reek. He could smell her corruption from where he stood, and he was suddenly glad for the gate keeping them apart. Unfortunately, that gate didn't protect his senses from her stench, and he wasn’t desperate enough yet to dive in for just about any neck. With a smirk, he bowed and delivered his answer.

“I… will have to decline.”

Before she could retort anything at all, a voice rang not too far away and Astarion’s head snapped to the side, finding the source of it.

“Fangs?”

His heart clenched at the sight of the friendly, fiery tiefling he recognized — with only her eyes wearing a shade of sadness in them, one he rarely noticed in her. They only partially glinted as she paused to look up to him with a newfound hope, as her companions stepped closer. 

“You know the spawn?” Araj asked the group.

“He’s with us.”

Karlach and Lae’zel stepped aside to let the source of the voice appear and a wave of emotions struck Astarion all at once, forcing him to take one step back. 

Shadowheart stepped forward, reaching out to their leader, “Tav, are you sure—”

“It’s okay,” she reassured her friend with a faint nod of her head, one that the cleric reciprocated, and a soft voice, all the opposite from the one she used to announce herself. The sorceress stood tall against Araj, and only allowed herself a quick glance at Astarion to acknowledge him. 

She looked… rough. He could spy the bits of bandages peeking from underneath her robe, her wounds from the explosion still healing, with a burn noticeable just on the side of her face and tired, dark eyes that hinted at her lack of sleep. Just a few seconds peering into her eyes was all he needed to notice the guilt and sadness she carried with her, before she turned her gaze back onto the Drow woman as she spoke up. 

“Ah, so he’s yours then, marvellous.” Araj clapped her hands together gleefully. “Would you mind asking your spawn to bite me? I have something to offer in return, of course, it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask otherwise.”

With those same lifeless eyes, she looked up to the pretentious Drow, unimpressed.

“I’m listening,” she crossed her arms across her chest. 

“I have in my possession a powerful potion that will permanently increase your strength, should you drink it. It’s not for sale, but it’s yours if he bites me.”

She hums, “That does sound tempting, doesn’t it, Astarion?” She looked in his direction, awaiting his reaction. 

“Oh, believe me darling, I would,” he answered, without skipping a beat. “That is, if her blood didn’t absolutely stink up the place. It’s foul, really.”

“You can smell her blood?”

He scoffed, “Can’t you? Gods, it’s rank.”

“Are you really asking for his opinion? This lowly spawn?” Araj asked, interrupting them, “He’s under your ownership, he answers to you.”

Her gaze lingered on him, her frown softening, “He’s his own person, he can decide for himself.”

Astarion’s brows lifted in response.

“Oh I’m sure he believes that!” Araj laughed. “How utterly adorable.”

“Yes,” Tav continued, snapping her gaze back to Araj. “So you should ask him.”

Araj’s laugh halted to a stop, briefly looking over Astarion before glancing back to Tav, “Well I did but—”

“And what answer did he give you?”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Astarion, awaiting his answer next to a frustrated Araj who turned back to him with a sneer.

His eyes remained on Tav, and he hoped his face didn’t betray the mixed emotions he felt towards her in that very moment. He turned his attention back to Araj, his expression seamlessly blending back into his pompous self.

He shrugged, “It’s still a no, I’m afraid.”

Tav turned her head back to Araj, with a slight smirk, “Then you have your answer.”

The Drow grunted, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?!”

Tav frowned, dropping her smile, “He said no.”

“Fine.” Araj sighed. “How very disappointing.” She turned to the guard, still next to Astarion’s cell, “Release the spawn to the True Soul — he’s her property.”

Following her orders, the guard unlocked the gate from his cell, allowing Astarion out. Araj and the guard let them be, begrudgingly walking away from the group with one last side glance before stepping out of the dungeons. 

Once they were gone, Tav let go of a heavy breath, dropping her shoulders and turning on her heels, rallying her companions, “We’re done here, let’s go.” 

Karlach, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart followed, leaving Astarion standing still at the entrance of his cell. The sorceress turned when she noticed his absence near them and stopped in her tracks when she saw him unmoving. “Well? What are you waiting for? An invitation?”

Her voice was tired, and those sarcastic comments that Astarion was so used to didn’t strike the same with the weight they now carried. Her words struck something within him; a memory of an explosion, her corpse resting in his arms, a cleric without healing powers, and him powerless in the middle of it all.

He gulped, trying to wash away the feelings he couldn’t find the will to process, and slipped back into his haughty self as he spoke up to break the silence.

“To go where exactly, Master?”

“Camp,” she said. “You’re coming back with us.”

-

Call me stupid, call me sad, You're the best I've ever had, You're the worst I've ever had, And that keeps fuckin' with my head. You're 11 minutes away and I have missed you all day, So why aren't you here?

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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[luckypunklemonade]

2/14

“Second guess these words of mine, I always thought that I’d be fine with you. But ever since we crossed that line…”

[Implied smut MDNI 18+; friends to lovers; mutual first time; 2k words] You made a decision with your best friend, Stiles Stilinski, that it was logical to be each other's first time. After all, you trusted each other, and, well, it made you both safer.

an: I love this concept, but I wanted to get this out today, so It's sort of rushed, sorry :( Happy Valentine's Day :)

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

It started just so we could both get out of the victim pool. Another supernatural event killing off virgins. Shocker. So, naturally, I proposed the idea to Stiles. One of my closest friends who also happened to be a virgin. I trusted him, had known him for years, and knew he’d also hopefully see the logic in it. It’s not like he could make fun of me. I’ve seen him say and do much more embarrassing things. I won most debates because of that. It was starting to become a problem now that it had happened, though.

“Do you remember what this hieroglyphic is?”

Studying a new round of killings in Beacon Hills, the category was Egyptian, and the suspect was a Sphinx demon. Having had a bit of a fixation as a child, I could be of help. 

“What does it look like?” 

“A bird–a stork.” 

I leaned over his shoulder to look at the computer, my hand pulling his shoulder back toward me so I could get a better look. I got the answer out, “Amenophus,” but his cologne cut me off after that. The scent only reminded me of him in my bed, softly and awkwardly humming to try and make it less awkward as he tried to figure out how to take my bra off. He was sort of hugging me, his head next to mine as he peered over my shoulder at his own hands, fiddling with the clasp. He laughed, “I can’t figure this shit out. I don’t know how this is allowed. It’s like a Chinese finger trap.”

I laughed into his shoulder, glad he could tell I was nervous and that he wasn’t making it a big deal. “It’s nothing like that. Here, I can–”

My heart seemed to drop with the weight of anxiety as I felt him finally succeed. He noticed, holding the bra together between my shoulder blades. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just nervous.”

“Hey, me too.” I scoffed. He was more likely excited or just wanting this to be over. Stiles tilted his head and brought it back to look at me. “I’m serious. You couldn’t feel my hand shaking? Why do you think I had so much trouble undoing this freaking restraint?”

“Oh, so you’re otherwise an expert?”

“I can figure out a Rubix cube, puzzle boxes, secret Celtic runes; I think I can figure out how to take off a bra.” “You saw it in porn.” Stiles leaned his forehead onto your shoulder, an embarrassed frown audible in his answer, “Yup.”

Now, all I could notice were things that made me think about him above me in my bed. The way he sat down on Scott’s couch, getting comfortable by pushing his hips up to settle back down into the seat. I realized just how determined he was in his endeavor with me when I noticed his ‘focused’ face the other day and matched it to the one he was making as he stared down at me. He would scratch his forearm, and I’d think of him sliding it beneath me to help me get comfortable, and then his voice as we talked each other through the nerves.

We’ve been close for forever, but I never realized how often I touch him mindlessly until it felt like static every time I did it. My hand twitched as it rested on his back, for the first time, wanting to ease up to the back of his head and play with his hair. A lot of things were the same, and it just felt like I was the problem. I felt like I was reading too far into my own emotions. Of course, I’d be a little frazzled and attached to my first time, but I had to remind myself I see him every day. He’s one of my best friends. This confusion will blow over.

Valentine’s Day was coming up. He should get you something, right? I mean, yeah, you guys aren’t dating, but you were each other’s first time. You were best friends. Does this qualify as friends with benefits? He wished he had asked before things settled back into normalcy–when he woke up with your head on his chest. It’s the week of. He could use a conversation with you about this. Friends for seven years, he knew Valentine’s Day was your second favorite holiday behind Halloween. Not because you’d ever had a valentine, but because you loved the definition you gave it. You did that to everything. Even if there was a preconceived understanding, you defined everything. He might’ve been the only one to notice.  He loved your version of Valentine’s Day. You dress up, you curl your hair, do your makeup.

You take the morning to get yourself coffee, listen to music, and be with yourself. You always came back with donuts for your friends because the day was about love in every aspect. 

He needed to do something. Love in every aspect, right? Even in the weird, unsure, sort-of-still-stuck-on-you-when-he-shouldn’t-be way? He was a little late to be planning too much. You weren’t really a candy or chocolates girl; seven years of friendship, and you only had a select few stuffed animals; you liked to read, but the only thing he knew about the romance genre was that you didn’t read it often because it was getting more and more difficult to execute correctly. So, you stuck to the books you both needed to blow dust from, certain classics, banned books, and miscellaneous genres on your “To Be Read” list.  Whatever he did, he was going to try and be cool about it.

He spent the day before Valentine’s Day in his kitchen practicing. The sheriff came home to his son washing a sink full of dishes and trying to force-feed him his dish. When his critique was satisfactory, Stiles let his dad go to bed and kept washing dishes. He set his alarm a little earlier than usual and went to bed, reassuring himself that he should show you he was thankful. You kind of made sure he wasn’t brutally sacrificed and, of course, that he got laid. And he did learn a few things about sex. Everything real so far, actually. Now that he thought about it, everything he knew was applicable to you. It wasn’t just girls in general who liked it when he made sure their hair was out of their face, it was you, and he did it because he knew you didn’t like your hair in your face. He was going to have trouble associating sex with anyone else for a while, at least. Or thinking about much else around you. 

Of course, you took a late start form school, which left Stiles to think about you and what he should do for you more. When you showed up, he was in the hallway talking to Scott, walking down the stairs. He stopped talking, not at all helping Scott’s already unbearably correct assumption that you and him slept together. He stared at you as you glowed your way through the hallway. He stared at your red lipstick and the ribbon tying your hair out of your face, a job he wanted to do instead at that moment. How satisfying would it be if he walked down that hall and slung his arm around you? How good would it make him feel to walk around that day with a red kiss print on his cheek? On his neck. All over his goddamn face if you felt like it. 

You saw him and grinned, holding up a bag of donut holes. He nodded, swallowing the urge to call you “honey” down. Partly because that was weird and partly because “Sunshine” fit you better at that moment. Before you reached him and Scott, you handed out the respective treats to Lydia and Allison, checking in on them once again after the latest test to the pack’s mental health. By the time you turned back to them, he was already following Scott to meet you. 

His hands kept waking me up. On the sides of my arms, on my hips, my shoulders. I kept sitting up in bed and missing the feeling by milliseconds. It wasn’t ceremonious by any means, but it meant a lot to me. Not just because he did it, but because of how he did it. He made sure it felt right. He didn’t lose me in awkward silence, he encouraged me to speak up. After a while, I did the same. It was awkward, but I knew it would be. We just laughed it off. His fingers didn’t go through my hair smoothly at first, but he took the time to brush them out. I didn’t quite know how to lie down for him, but he had made me comfortable enough so that I felt okay asking. “Here,” he said as his hands guided my shoulders down, cradling my head before it hit the pillows. I wanted to kiss him, but I couldn’t ask for it. I wanted to pull him down by the back of his neck and feel him kiss my head deeper into the pillows. His hands would wander further and get distracted, and he’d let go and forget why we were doing it. We were holding hands. He was mumbling questions for me as he lined himself up. Why shouldn’t I know what he tastes like? 

You’re wearing the smile you always have when you do something nice. A little flustered as you hand people gifts or compliment them. The smile that kept distracting him when you walked up the bleachers with his number painted on your cheek. It was only the second game he was starting in, but he had your full support, even in the freezing weather. Lacrosse season is in winter, which is also sick season. You got sick this year, of course, and you showed up to two games with a cold. He met you after the game, trying not to cough on any proud parents. He was sweating, and you were shivering. With a congested cough, you gave him a thumbs up, and he sent you home to get some rest.

Now, you had a content look on your face, sort of like how you looked when you slept, watching your friends dig into your gifts. Stiles started walking, tapping your shoulder and nodding his head toward an empty classroom. You followed, not without hearing your friends giggle. When you both got away into the classroom, he turned quickly.

“Come to my house tonight. I don’t know if it’d be weird, but I sort of have this whole thing planned. If you think it’s weird, you don’t have to come, I just wanted to find a way to- to thank you, but if today wasn’t the right move–” “You planned something?” “I know just because we had sex doesn’t mean we’re dating. I know we didn’t do it because of that, but I keep getting this feeling like I…”

He stared at you, not worried about ruining the friendship, but terrified you didn’t feel how he felt. “I feel like I want us to be dating after. I know it’s probably because it was my first time and I feel attached or whatever.”

“You feel that, too? I thought it was just– well, yeah.”

“You–” He watched you nervously stare at the ground. 

“You know we never kissed? You were my first time and we never kissed.”

“I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. I didn’t think you’d want that.”

“Me neither.”

Stiles leaned in and you knew. He kissed you gently, just pressing his lips against yours before you pulled away, eyes widening. “Oh, shit.” You wiped his mouth off with your sleeve, your red lipstick nearly staining his chin. You made sure to wipe as much as you could off without smudging it. Stiles flinched away and stopped you, “I want it.”

“I got it all. You can’t walk around like that. Am I good?”

He checked for smudging and softly wiped the side of your lip, “You’re great. I can walk around like that and proudly, too. Watch.”

You stopped him before he could kiss you again, laughing away the flush in your cheeks. He saw it regardless. “Uhm…Here. This’ll be more managable.” 

You brought his hand up to your lips and kissed it, leaving your red kiss print on the back of his hand. Stiles admired it for a good thirty seconds before beaming up at you. When you promised to kiss him the right way at his house that night, he finally nodded and followed you back out into the hallway. 

I opened the door and took my shoes off, hearing a small sound of panic from within the house. Stiles had heard me come in, running around the kitchen on a mission. Sitting where he told me, I was faced with two generic three-wick candles. He doesn’t exactly own a candelabra, I smiled to myself. Stiles had the food plated, he was just cleaning the area before bringing it out. I stood up to help, laughing when he whipped around and ordered me to stop, but continued into the kitchen. I didn’t stop laughing as I slipped past him to grab a few miscellaneous things off of the counter or when he took them out of my hands and backed me against the counter. “Stay there,” He said as he turned to put more utensils in the sink. He turned back to hold my shoulders because I was moving again. I smiled and caught him off guard, pressing my lips to his. 

Admittedly, I should have been more considerate and wiped my lipstick off, but I liked the idea of how he’d look. His hands went slack on my shoulders, dropping to my waist. My nerves surged when I felt him hum into my lips. My heart rushed when he took the chance to deepen the kiss, the enthusiasm he put into it pushing my head back into his hand. I mirrored his movements as I slid my hand up to his shoulders. His face was tight with eagerness when I pulled away. He swallowed, lips pressing together. I then noticed my lipstick smudged across his mouth. It strayed above his lips in a hazy pink. I could only imagine what I looked like. I held in a laugh, which he met until we couldn’t. My laugh lasted longer while he focused on the red smeared on my chin. He pulled out his phone, holding it up to his face to take a picture. 

“C’mere,” He mumbled, pressing his cheek to yours and snapping a picture of your mouths both messy with your lipstick. You hid your face until he led you to your seat again, taking away your napkin so you knew he wanted to sit together and eat with both of your mouths covered in smudged lipstick.

[holycowboytiger]

(Platonic!) NikPrice x Reader

this thought has been kicking around in my mind for some time now so i decided to let myself ramble

CW: Neglect, child abuse, alcoholism, underage smoking,

Author knows nothing about cars yet writes about them

(Reader is implied to be in their teens and is a little shit at first)

(mostly uneditited and not re read, word vomit if you must)

Imagining Nikolai and Price finally settling down together in some small town, planning to live out the rest of their years in peace, away from the danger- away from everything.

It's quaint, even if it takes a while to get used to, it's a nice coastal town, John always loved the seaside, and Nikolai likes colder weather, this town seemed perfect for the two of them- even if the housewives fill the streets with gossip, and the teens are rowdy, and everyone manages to know everyone's business, it was never too hard to just.. blend in.

Price is scarily good at keeping himself away from the gossip circles, but every once in a while he'll indulge to get a better idea of what the people are like around here, he doesn't care that Mary is getting a divorce, or that Phil is sure that his kid is actually the mailman's, but he does care about whose dangerous, and who could be a threat.

To his relief, whenever he brings up troublemakers, the only name that is spoken of is yours, just some random teen with an attitude that likes to scuffle with other kids and graffiti walls or bridges sometimes.

He figured you were just a stereotypical teen who thinks the world is out to get you, and you'll settle down in a few years, he's sure your parents will straighten you out, he does feel a little bad that grown adults are gossiping about you tho..

''Really they are so disrespectful!''

''Ugh Charlotte I know! My daughter came home smelling.. weed, turns out she was hanging out with them, you best fucking believe I nipped that friendship in the bud''

''with any luck they'll turn out better than that father of theirs, disgraceful''

Ok this was just.. foul- you cant be that bad? You're just a kid..? Shit maybe the world isn't out to get you but this town certainly is.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At home, John opened the door and kicked off his boots, still annoyed with the neighbourhood gossip session.

''John?''

''It's me Nik''

''How'd It go? Make any friends?'' He chuckled, obviously teasing, walking into the hallway with a bottle of beer in his hand

''Think I'd rather go back to active duty before I even consider befriending any of those cunts''

''That bad?'' Nikolai raised his brow before he handed John his beer, watching as John downed the thing in seconds ''They're so.. Judgemental..''

''They've got nothin better to do hun''

John shook his head, moving towards Nikolai and wrapping his arms around his waist, sighing into the crook of his neck ''You weren't there Nik''

He stepped back, letting Nik hold his face ''What is it? Are you ok?''

''I'm fine its just... they seem to have it out for this one kid-''

''Maybe they're a little shit-''

''Nik-''

''I jest- I jest..''

John rambled about everything as Nik led him to the living room, about how they wouldn't let their kids be friends with you, and how weird this one sided beef was with a random teen, Nikolai tried to play devil's advocate for a while before he eventually stopped and let John talk, he knew how it got under his skin, and truthfully, as an ex ''bad kid'' it irked him a little.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Months went by and John and Nik had found themselves settling in nicely to the little town, beginning to remember names, and even making some friends at the local pub, but it wasn't so easy when both were very secretive about their life.

People started to talk, which led John to reveal that he's ex special forces, hoping it would calm the chatter, but then came the questions on his wedding ring, and where his wife was, why he lives with Nikolai-

Soon enough he heard rumours of him being a widower that wears his ring for comfort, and Nikolai was his friend from the army.

They weren't completely wrong....... He was married- just not to a woman, and Nikolai was a friend from the army, before he became his husband.

Both men knew that it was best to wait a while before they revealed their marriage, test the waters.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You somehow still made your way into conversation every once in a while, You'd pass by with a cigarette in hand and the insults would fly, and whilst John still felt bad, he slowly started to understand the town, seeing you push past someone without apologising, or walking around with bruised knuckles, glaring at any and everything, you even bumped into John once- and the only thing you uttered was

''Fuckin' watch would you? old man..''

Ok.. so you were a right piece of work, disrespectful and antagonising, and maybe he started to agree with the gossips, maybe.... guilty as he felt, you were a bit of a dick.

And when he found out his house had been egged one night, he didn't doubt it was you..........little shit.

Nikolai laughed at him as he grumbled on ''I told you so..''

''Shut up Nik'' he sighed as Nik kissed his temple ''Disrespectful little-''

''They're a kid John'' Nikolai playfully reminded, and John scoffed, now he understands what its like to be in your 40s and beefing with a teenager.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nikolai didn't hold an opinion on you, you were a little dickhead, and that's all he thought, better to not get so upset over some kid, even after you'd egged his house, he made sure to glare at you when you walked past him, but he was only met with your own, bruised face and all, still staring at him like you knew you could take him down. He was never serious when he looked, it was only an effort to scare you off, to make sure he doesn't find toilet paper littering his garden, but it didn't seem to work...

''Fuck you lookin at? Auditions for grease are that way.'' you scoffed

......ok that was fucking hilarious, fuck you.

He was perplexed, you weren't afraid of him, or John, seems like you feared no one, which was a funny concept, Ex special forces couldn't even make you flinch, what could?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One day, Nikolai was in his driveway, trying to bring an older car back to life, something he'd picked up to keep himself busy, he was always in a trance like state when he was working on cars, like nothing else mattered, but he found his focus being pushed to the side when he heard footsteps approaching the bottom of the garden.

He turned, curiously, and his eyebrow raised when he spotted you, your eyes scanning over the car, not even giving him a second glance,,, its rude to stare you know..

''Can I help you?'' finally, you looked at him

''No. Just looking''

''..Shouldn't you be at school?'' he tilted his head

''didn't go today.'' Of course.

He looked you up and down, noting the bruised knuckles and busted lip, another fight? How many enemies did you have- and how on earth did you make them?

''That a mustang?'' you shifted your gaze back to the car

''It is, 67''

''old ass car.'' You replied, he chuckled

''well I'm an old ass man'' you smiled, looking back to him ''How long have you been trying to bring that hunk of metal back to life?''

''Couple months, I think I'm almost there''

''uh...Can I,, take a look?''

Your gaze shifted to your feet, you and him both knew that you really didn't have a right to ask, you weren't the nicest, but- Nikolai found you entertaining enough, and he figured the worst you could do is mock his hair again..

''come'' he gestured for you to come over, you looked surprised at first, before a small smile made its way to your lips and you walked into the garden, still hesitant.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John looked out the window from the kitchen, shocked to see you, sitting against the hood of the car as Nikolai rolled underneath it, he even saw you pass a wrench to him.... how on earth-.......

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 Weeks flew by, and without fail, every Friday and Saturday, you'd find yourself in their garden helping Nikolai fix up the ''scrap of metal'' with John occasionally coming out to greet you and provide snacks and drinks for the two of you, lingering for just a moment.

Neither of them said anything when you would light a cigarette infront of them, or when you would appear in their garden with busted knuckles, they simply just.. let you be.

They noted that you'd never join them for lunch, but always find excuses to stay later and later, never wanting to go home, and whenever either of them would remark how late it was, your shoulders would drop, and you'd seem upset at the fact that you had to leave.

You'd flinch away from them when they got to close, or get defensive when they'd push too much into your life, but you had no problem prying into theirs, you were quite the spitfire.

But as the 2 weeks turned to 3 Nikolai and John started to grow concerned

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Something else that had entered their routine would be patching you up from time to time, when you would let them close,,

It started after John noticed you could barely pick up a tool for Nik, wincing as your hand closed around the bottom of it, he sighed and gathered ice and some bandages from the first aid kit, and some rubbing alcohol to clean whatever wound you had found yourself with.

He doesn't know how he convinced you to sit down, on the hood of the car, or how he convinced you to let him fix you up in the first place but that doesn't matter.

John had picked up that unless you were glaring or threatening someone, eye contact wasn't something you were good at, and it became significantly clearer now as you stared at your hand guiltily whilst he cleaned and wrapped it wincing every time he was a little too rough...

He's used to hauling injured grown men over his shoulder to get them out of the crossfire or putting half of his body weight onto someone to stop a bleeding gunshot wound, not gently wrapping your smaller bruised hands in bandages, but-

As time went on, he found himself doing it more and more, same question everytime, with the same answer

''What happened?''

''Woke up like this man.''

It frustrated him, but it didn't take a detective to figure it was another fight, he always wondered why you found yourself in them so often,, until one day you actually answered

''What happened?''

''Kids were talking shit...''

''What did you do?''

''Not about me..''

''Well then? Who-''

''You and Nik... called you guys weirdos and.. gay.. and ...stuff I dont remember much after the first swing''

He stopped wrapping your hands to look up at you, his gaze trying to study yours... You always looked half dead, and today was no excuse, as unreadble as ever kid

''A- hah... as much as i appreciate you standing up for me and Nik, i promise you that a few kids calling us gay isnt hurting anyone, I dont want you throwing yourself into fights over us two geezers''

''They said Nik's hair was stupid.... only i can do that''

''MY HAIR IS LOVELY-'' He heard his husbands gruff voice call out from under the car, shit he forgot he was still under there....

———————————————————————————

Admittedly, you were growing on them.. They'd never really had the conversation about kids, they knew they'd be lucky to retire, but now that they actually have, John finds himself,,, longing for some reason, and Nikolai jokes a bit too much about being referred to as someone's ''old man'' down the line, he thinks the title suits him.

And John's habit of picking up strays, and Nikolai's hobby that was fixing broken things.., you seemed like a perfect fit, a feral skittish thing.. you reminded them both of Simon...

You let them both in...slowly, so slow that questions would still burn in their minds..

Why did you never want to go home? Why were you always getting in the scraps and scuffles? You were abrasive and confrontational, like a cornered animal.. but why?

It didn’t take a genius to figure that life at home wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows for you, and as the two men got closer to you, they found themselves wanting to pry more and more.

They wanted to shield you, to help you find your way through life, but how could they? They were just two fellas that you fixed cars with on the weekend, neither of them were your father, or in any sort of authoritive role in your life-

Even if that fact reigned true, it didn’t stop you from valuing their opinions.

John told you it was bad to smoke, and despite your glare to his cigar, you stopped smoking as much around them, Nikolai advised you stopped fighting as much with the neighbouring kids, and you showed up at their house with less and less bruises.

They were both happy to know that you listened to them, and you were just happy that they hadn’t thrown you out yet, that they hadn’t got tired of your defensive nature, that they hadn’t yet realised how much of a bad kid you really were.

You were happy that they didn’t know who you really were…. Yet.

As the days flew in, you itched more and more to tell them what was really going on, why you were the way that you were.

And one day you did.. subtly, and you only spoke to Nik, but he was able the piece it together, and soon after you went home, he found himself telling John about his concerns

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It was late, you and Nik were sitting on the grass, staring at the car you’ve spent so long on fixing up, your knees were tucked under your chin and the two of you found yourselves in a comfortable silence, even if you were itching to break it.

“..so you were a pilot?” Your eyes didn’t leave the car, but Nik turned to you, a confused smile on his face

“Yes.. how’d you know?”

“You have a patch on your jacket” you pointed out “my dad has the same one,,, tho he threw it out years ago.”

“Pops also a pilot then 'm assuming?”

“Was…. Helicopter”

“Ahh..” he shouldn’t ask…

“He got into an accident… lost his leg,, couldn’t fly no more”

“That…-“

“Fucking sucks I know” you chuckled dryly “just wish he wasn’t so angry at me about it.”

“Why would… he be angry at you?”

“He says I ruined his life..” you shrugged, still not facing him “Momma left him after he started drinking too much, and he thinks it’s my fault”

Nikolai stayed quiet again, you were finally opening up, and he didn’t want to say something that would cause you to clam up

“He still drinks a lot.. but most of the time I’m lucky and by the time I get home he’s knocked himself out.”

“Most of the time?”

Oh.

Oh.

“Kid- Are you-“

“M’fine.. made it this far, I just need to wait until I’m old enough, I’ll enlist and leave this shithole of a town behind.” You scoffed, now turning to him

You could see the concern written on his face, and the anger that bubbled beneath the surface, he had half the mind to show up at your door and show your old man what it was like to have all of his ribs cracked.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

“For what kid?”

“….. for egging your house….. it was a dare….. also for saying you look like you belong in grease…….. and for calling John … old”

he chuckled at your apology, his hand landing on your shoulder, patting you like an old dog

“…. All is forgiven kiddo… come on… it’s getting cold,,,, join me and John for dinner?”

“I can’t -“

“You can stay for dinner Kid, it ain’t no burden to us.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner was… nice, you can’t remember the last time someone cooked for you, nor the last time you sat at a table with people and actually.. talked, you don’t remember the last time you acted like…. A kid..

But as the two men shared stories with you, mocked each other, told you of their comrades (with some ridiculous names mind you.. who the fuck is Soap?) and filled your plate, you found yourself relaxing, for the first time in years it felt like you were safe….. even if it was just for now.

(pls im open to more ideas on part two)

[cantfightmoonlight]

"Um actually," She muttered under her breath, as she snuck a peek Aaliyah's way, not bothering to actually point out how saying 'that doesn't exactly sound like you care' is opinion and not a fact though. Not after she was called a fucking nerd in a nearly endearing sort of way. The corner of her lips tilted up ever so slightly at the sentiment. Though any semblance of a smile fell just as quickly as it appeared when Aaliyah carried on. "No, I don't know you, just as you don't know a thing about me. Though, your whole don't give a shit routine, doesn't exactly make me want to?" She countered. Her gaze moved back to fixating on the crowd out on the dance floor as she admitted quietly, "I have enough people in life who may or may not be genuine. I'm not really up for having to decipher another one. Just as an FYI."

"That's bullshit!" She scoffed under her breath as her gaze snapped back toward Aaliyah's. "I had already stopped and if you truly cared about making sure the starving vampire controlled herself then why not tell the one person antagonizing said vampire to shut up? I wasn't going to bite Frankie. Not after Poppy had stepped in. I might have shoved Jake, but you can't tell me he wouldn't have deserved it and, last I checked, pushing someone over isn't against any accords," She huffed. "So the coven advisor's sister gets special treatment? The witches are nepotists, is that it?" She could feel the anger rising in the back of her throat at the hypocrisy of the situation, but when Aaliyah said 'He was acting out of fear' any bite to her words were replaced by blatant distain. "Fear? The six foot white boy whose built like a linebacker and can fucking electrocute people with his bare hands was acting out of fear over what? A teary-eyed 5'6 brunette decked head to toe in pink?" She asked, as if clarify, despite knowing the hypocrisy of the situation all too well at this point. "The witches are the ones who created us, weren't they? That's what it says at the Historical Society. A coven sought power and immortality, so they invented a whole other species. It was witch magic that trapped us in the Emerald Hotel and the Rec Center, wasn't it? And it was witch magic behind pretty much every hellscape the Catalyst put us through over the past two years and, yet, we're the ones to be afraid of?" She lifted a brow up at Aaliyah as she found her jaw tightening even more in resignation. "Because we have fangs, we have to suck it up and wait to get back at them strategically, because we're the ones who have to prove we're not a threat? Okay."

"You know when I came back from the dead, a witch called me a murderer," Her voice dipped into a low murmur as her gaze fell once more. "They told me I was living a life that belonged to another, and, yet, when the pretty blonde supreme died, the entire coven voted to kill someone on her behalf. She was the leader. They 'needed' her, while I was a different story. And you wonder why I don't see a point in a caring anymore. We're always going be the monsters and, the more we treat ourselves differently from the humans and the witches and the fae and the wolves who can't control themselves either, the more we're all going to believe it too."

"I... I'm sorry your sire was a piece of shit. Truly. I can't imagine what that was like. But, my sire murdered me and the left me on my own. So, let me ask you something, from someone whose been trying to figure it out by myself- do you honestly think that your advice would suck more than the trial and error I've already been enduring?" She asked her genuinely, because if getting help was truly worse than wasn't this all futile anyway?

"Are you for real right now?" Her expression twisted into a look of horror as Aaliyah actually laughed before her. "Or maybe you really are a monster," She shook her head in disbelief. "Humans aren't weak and I would never dare act like they are and, if you ever have, then you are the weak one for needing to make someone feel small so that you can feel tall. He doesn't need anything from me. But, we protect each other, because that is what a partnership and love is. I didn't think I'd have to tell you that and I'm not fighting anyone's battles for them. I'm defending the man I love and I know he'd defend me too if someone called me a name to his fucking face and, if you do it again, then we will have nothing else to say to one another." And she meant it. While, she was willing to accept that Aaliyah and her might never see eye to eye on certain issues, if the woman before her truly believed that humans were inferior, then she was no better than any other prejudice asshole in this town who considered vampires to be freaks.

"We can agree to disagree. Death is a part of life. We all experience it eventually. But, those skulls in the wall are sad because no one cared about them enough to give them their own resting place and you're really not helping your case right now when that roommate of mine is a vampire and a clan member who likely needs your help even more than I do," She pointed out. "It's a movie." Though now that she thought about it, Aaliyah might be more similar to Lord Farquaad than Shrek, though she wouldn't say that part outloud on the off chance the woman actually googled it.

"I didn't plan the party," She muttered under her breath. "And the word people is plural, implying that there is more than one. One would be a person and, yes, I know I'm a fucking nerd. Though, I'm sorry you what? If you wanted me to step out of the booth you could have just asked. It wasn't as if I was going to carry on this long of a conversation through a screen door anyhow and I didn't ask for any of this. I wanted a small funeral themed birthday party between me and two of my friends two years ago in celebration of my new life and as a fuck you to the exe who killed me. Only they forgot until now when I was surprised with this and... if you mean it when it comes to helping me, then... I'll try it. I'm not saying I won't complain, but I'm not against hard work. Though, if it doesn't work, I'm allowed to walk away and I mean it when I say no more insulting Ben in front of me. Trying to piss me off, isn't tough love. It's being a dick and I'm not going to put up with that kind of shit."

"I told her while she was sunbathing at the country club that she wasn't a meal on display," Aaliyah said, raising an eyebrow. "I might have also mentioned that to both of you, but, really, I'm not going to spill species secrets around just anyone. That's how I was taught. Was it wrong? Probably." She laughed quietly before rectifying it. "Absolutely." She sighed. "Okay, smart ass. Keep 'um, actually'-ing me, you fucking nerd." She wasn't attempting biting, and she hardly found herself to be defensive. It was mildly amusing, and there was something close to pity, but Aaliyah made it a habit not to really pity anyone. A product of her upbringing, both living and unliving. "Again, you don't know me, Brielle. Very few do, I get that. I go for that. But you can't just state hard facts about me, like who or what I care about, without actually knowing me." She took the clan position because maybe, just maybe, she cared too much. Aaliyah didn't really have the language for it, but she cared deeply about the state of the vampires in this wretched town. Enough to sift out the tough love. Enough to take up the mantle of leader while only really wanting to desperately search for her friend, one of only a handful that she'd ever had in centuries.

Aaliyah just shook her head. "No, you're right, I didn't give you the chance to make a rational decision because we don't get those extra moments, Bri. We don't get the choice of, oh, I'll be a little mad. A human woman not controlling herself? She might yell, maybe hit. Perhaps she could cause some damage. A starving vampire not controlling herself?" She shook her head. "I'm not going to sit in front of the council while those fucking witches drag a clan member through the mud for fucking eating someone at a party. I won't even risk the chance of that happening. So was it rash to grab you? Perhaps. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. I was protecting the best interest of the clan, I was protecting you, hell. I was protecting your fucking boyfriend from the potentiality of having to listen to your trial while Meena and I have to figure out your punishment. Something that wouldn't have been light for even contemplating hurting the coven advisor's sister." She got what Bri was saying, but there hadn't been much she could do about Jake. "His words were cruel. He was acting out of fear. Does that mitigate it? No. If he doesn't apologize, then I can offer to rip out his tongue, but he also wasn't my priority in that moment. Suck it up in that moment, yes, but wait. Get back at them strategically. I do recall telling you that I didn't want to put you in a box."

Any effort to get through seemed to be a mission in futility. Aaliyah almost didn't understand what she was trying to accomplish. "I'm not trying to be menacing. I'm being honest. You won't like it because it sucks. It will suck. It's not a pun. When you have control issues, when you have feeding problems, it's not easy. It fucking sucks, and it continues to suck for years. I think that you could have an easier time of it than I did. You wouldn't have to deal with my sire, for one. If you think I'm a bitch, then you have no idea. And you have a daylight ring." She was almost wistful, just for a moment. "I missed the sun so much. Longed for it. I used to try and grind up marigolds. I thought if I could put it on my skin, the way that they sooth and heal would help. It didn't. I burned, many times. I was called a fool. She was right, of course, but." She gave Bri a long look. "It doesn't matter if you were or weren't meant to be this. You are this. You have to find a way to live like this."

Aaliyah couldn't help it. She laughed, actually happy. "I'm really not, but it's nice of you to come out of the closet. I have been rather curious if you fight all of Professor anak Bandi's battles for him, even the ones he's unaware of. You were practically ready to break his computer when he was Zooming into council meetings. I've always wondered how human lovers must feel. Do they find themselves as weak as we so often act like they are? Does he need your protection as much as you offer it?" She couldn't help the curiosity, and it was genuine. She'd never stayed with a mortal for so long as to see them as anything more than a temporary fascination. She'd only turned a handful for companionship, but she'd never been especially coddling of any of them. "It's beautiful. Mankind used to spend hundreds, sometimes thousands of years building monuments, cathedrals. Some desperate clawing at permanence. And they are sad. But... ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Whether you're a skull in the wall or dust in the wind, it's sad because they're dead, not because of their eternal resting place." She snorted. "I've lost my touch if the only reason you think I'm a bitch is because I insult your boyfriend. I think I've also kicked your roommate out of my club three times. Her picture's on the wall, now. Do Not Allow Entry. And what is a Shrek?" she asked, like she hadn't seen the movie when it first came out, a fascinating innovation in animation. "I like to think that I have layers like a hornets' nest. Far more applicable." Full of tiny, dangerous little components packed with stinging, hateful creatures.

The irony, in Aaliyah's eyes, was that Brielle was just as set in her own thought processes as she believed everyone else was set in their opinions about her. "I really haven't heard the eulogies. Such a thing is fun in theory, less so in practice. Making an entire town come to a party and then speak about someone that they may not properly know very well is a well intentioned idea that is, more often than not, less than ideal in practice. Besides, I didn't say that everyone in this goddamn town cares about you, I said people. You still have people that care about you. Maybe it's one hundred, maybe it's just one, but that can be enough. And Benjamin has lived here long enough to understand the risks. I remember the former Coalition leader, and I remember that your professor stepped up as soon as he was needed. He loves you, and he loves this town. I don't think something like that is going to do him in." The man had more backbone than she felt obligated to give him credit for. Most humans did. They willingly chose to live in a place where their neighbors had wings or turned into wolves or craved blood. There was an incredibly amount of bravery there.

"I'm not being condescending. I'm not patronizing you. I'm just talking. This is the way I talk, and it's the way I've talked for a while, now. And I'm attempting to get you out of that booth. It worked. But if you want to have a drinking, go for it. Maybe make me a little card. One sip for saying 'fuck.' Down a shot for moral superiority from a confess serial killer," Aaliyah said, laughing a little before she looked at Bri, her eyes a little soft. "If you want an actual funeral, this isn't it. I imagine you didn't get a lot of mourning done in there." Her expression ticked up in amusement as she listed off some of the members of the clan and their various selling points. "She's eccentric. That happens, sometimes. He has cultivated a displeasure for most things. That happens, too. It's nice that they're happy, even if unhelpful. She needs all the rest she can get right now. And you're right, they're both rather new, and the last people I'd wish to get advice from about control are Tried to Eat My Boyfriend's Leg and Had a Sunburn for a Year From Sleeping Outside." She hummed. "No, not a bat signal. We don't turn into bats. Look, I get you might think it's too little, too late. And that's fine. But I work on payroll for Eclipse on Tuesday afternoons. I offered you help with payback at the gift exchange. I'll offer you something similar, now: help with being a vampire, sans neon sign. No non-vampire pals, no busy crowds where I, and most people, really, are so often on defensive. Again, I'm telling you that you probably won't like it. Not to cow you but to let you know that it's just not fun. I didn't like it. I hated it, really, and it took me years to get the hang of this bullshit. But you're much smarter than me."

[pleasedontcareaboutme]

It's missing my father hours rn so imma just dump a bunch of pictures here and cry

( sorry i don't know the source of anything I just had them on my phone)

(also dont read the tags i just need to let it out lol)

[wishchip106]

i can feel a wave of depression building up rn ☹️😧

gonna read a bunch of cherik fics to settle it down before it gets too bad

[wundrousarts]

Going to do a Nevermoor series reread in June + July + August ? if anyone else also wants to do a reread around that time, could be fun to have more of the fandom prepping for Silverborn

Did initially make a roadmap plan to split the books up into weeks on top of already being months, so that people could focus on specific parts and discuss each week….. but between the fact that I messed it up the first time, Silverborn kept getting delayed as I planned it, and I’m actually really bad at keeping to stuff like that (looking at you, Silverborn Countdown Challenge…) I’m deciding to just go for it at whatever pace happens.

[awardenandacrow]

Alright, so sorry for the long wait, but I’ve finally circled back around to write for prompt 22, @hyperions-light ‘s other ask, which is Grey Warden Rook encountering their first Darkspawn. I’ve been ruminating on it, because I need to do some setup, which will make this kind of long for a prompt answer, but I hope ya’ll will enjoy it still!

There’s a familiar (?) face here for y’all because I CAN.

CW/TW: strong language, blood, violence, body horror (Darkspawn)

Note: there’s a LOT of setup and y’all probably didn’t sign up for that but it’s important to me telling myself the story as well as telling y’all. Also I don’t know if this will actually make it into the fic but we’ll call it Snippet 45 for fun anyway.

——————————————————————————

“Why not send Naimeryn out with them?”

Naimeryn froze, her knuckles inches from the door. It had been Markus, the librarian’s, voice.

Was he… vouching for her?

“Who?”

Naimeryn rolled her eyes. All these years of putting her through the abyss, and he still didn’t even know her first name.

“He’s referring to Warden Thorne,” Lucienne’s voice chimed in. “While I’m hesitant to share Markus’s… *enthusiasm,* I can see the wisdom in the suggestion.”

“You’re *joking,*” The First Warden’s tone was livid. “You want me to send that girl out of the fortress?”

“There is nothing for her to do in the library,” Markus said. “My notes are impeccably organized. There isn’t a spec of dust to be found. The old tomes have been meticulously repaired — I didn’t even teach her how to do that, she taught herself. Not a volume out of place. I simply have no work for her.”

Naimeryn knew pride was dangerous, but she felt her chest swell with it anyway. Figuring out how to repair the damaged bindings had been a long, slow process, but seeing all of the books looking clean and new on their shelves was worth it.

“Warden Lucienne,” the First Warden tried again. “You *truly* think unleashing her on Thedas is *wise*?”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Lucienne snorted in that derisive way she had. “It’s a scouting mission, most of the members of which are experienced Wardens. We aren’t sending her alone into Minrathos on a recruitment mission.”

*Good thing,* Naimeryn thought. *I would* definitely *fuck that up.*

“Do you remember when she —“

“It was nearly *ten years ago,* First Warden,” Lucienne snapped at him. “There have been no such incidents since. She completed her final project perfectly. She recovered well from her Joining. She has done everything around Weisshaupt you have ever asked, but she has *never* faced even a single Darkspawn. She has nothing left to learn within these walls. And frankly, none of us think it’s right to keep a Warden, *especially* one hand-picked by Warden-Commander Mahariel, locked up here, what? Until her Calling comes?”

“What harm can she really do?” This voice belonged to another of the senior Wardens, though she didn’t know his name. “This is my mission, so if you truly think this Naimeryn Thorne would be a detriment, I would like to know why.”

“We are discussing a *barely competent* elvish mage with no specialization or talent,” the First Warden boomed, and Naimeryn felt herself shrink back from the door. “She has been running around Weisshaupt since she was a teenager, wreaking havoc and causing chaos no matter what she touches. It’s a wonder she isn’t an abomination and Weisshaupt’s halls aren’t flooded with demons!”

“With all due respect, First Warden,” Naimeryn gasped. That was *Amaya.* “Not having a specialization *does not* make her ‘barely competent.’”

“Warden —“

“I would like to hear what Warden Amaya has to say,” Lucienne cut him off. “She comes from a prominent Altus family, and she is a member of Naimeryn’s Joining class. She is more than qualified to speak on the subject.”

“Thank you, Mage Warden Lucienne. Naimeryn is a friend, and I will say that up front, and allow you to make of it what you will. As one of the more junior Wardens selected to join this reconnaissance mission, I can tell you that Naimeryn can *only* be an asset to the team. She is dedicated, and dilligent. Her attention to detail is impressive, and her instincts are *good.* She wants nothing more from the Wardens than a chance to do something good. And if I may be frank, First Warden, she *deserves* the chance to prove you *wrong.* She can be a good Warden, if only you allow her the chance to *try.*”

Naimeryn’s eyes stung. Amaya’s speech was so impassioned, and on her behalf? She waited with bated breath. Would it be enough?

“I’m convinced,” said the senior Warden who was to lead the mission, “though as always, I defer to you, First Warden.”

Should she go through with her plan? Knock? Say her piece? Beg for a chance? Would seeing her undo any shift in his mind the others’ words had brought on? She chewed her lip so hard she tasted blood.

“Warden Amaya, are you prepared to assume responsibility for Warden Thorne?”

Everything went deathly quiet. Naimeryn closed her eyes and turned away from the door. Well, that was that. If that was the only way he’d let her leave Weisshaupt, then leave Weisshaupt she never would. She felt her shoulders slump and her head drop.

“It would be my *honor,*” she heard Amaya snap. “I can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

Dread stirred in the pit of Naimeryn’s stomach. No, no! What if he was right? What if she proved a liability? What if she messed up? She didn’t want to be the reason Amaya got into trouble! A purple haze floated at the edges of her vision.

*No,* she thought resolutely, squaring her shoulders and holding her head high. She *wouldn’t* be the reason Amaya got into trouble.

…

“Warden-Commander?” Naimeryn said nervously, hesitating before following Amaya up the inn stairs.

“Carver, please, Naimeryn,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s just… you’re Carver *Hawke*, aren’t you?” She asked cautiously. His arm paused, his glass halfway to his lips.

“What of it?”

Naimeryn sensed she was on thin ice. Maybe she should drop it? She took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry if this is out of line, ser,” she said. “I don’t pretend to know *anything* about you just from reading Varric Tethras’s work. I just… I heard about what happened, at Adamant? With the Inquisition. I… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for your loss.”

Warden-Commander Hawke looked genuinely surprised. The other senior Wardens were staring at her, some shifting uncomfortably, some wearing thinly veiled expressions of disapproval. No matter what their relationship had been like… that had been his last blood relative, to her knowledge. She knew the sting of that loss, how strange it was to know that you were truly, finally, completely alone. To be the last one standing, whatever that really meant, trying to navigate it on your own.

It had been some years, now, of course. Maybe she shouldn’t have…

“Thank you, Naimeryn,” Carver said finally. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Rest up.”

…

“It should just be a small band, if anything,” Carver told them, pointing at the smoke at the center of the village. “Looks like they broke through right at the heart of town.”

“So what do we do?” Naimeryn asked.

“I’m sending Fraeska here to Weisshaupt for backup,” Carver said, patting the slim elf on the shoulder. “She’s the fastest runner I know — she’ll grab a mount in the last town we passed, and be there by morning. The rest of us, we’ll split up into pairs and establish a perimeter, make sure civilians can safely get to the outskirts, and contain any Darkspawn that get too bold and spread out from the sinkhole. We should have reinforcements by tomorrow night, next morning at the latest, and then we storm the hole, end the incursion, and go home heroes.”

Fraeska nodded. “See you soon, Warden-Commander.”

And then she ran, with a swiftness Naimeryn would not have believed had she not seen it herself.

“All right, so. Antoine and Evka, you obviously work well together, so you’re team one,” Carver said. Elf and dwarf nodded in unison. “I’ll have the two of you go the long way; circle up to the north side of town, there.”

He pointed past the smoke plume, closer to the foothills. Antoine and Evka voiced their acknowledgement. Hamish and another dwarf, Egherd, were assigned the northeast, two young rogues were assigned the east side, while two older Wardens, were given the northwest. West and southwest were also given to older Wardens.

Naimeryn scooted closer to Amaya. She didn’t *know* Naimeryn knew she had accepted responsibility for her, but she also likely would think Naimeryn just *wanted* to be paired with her. But when Carver spoke, he paired Amaya with the last of the older Wardens, a man named Goff.

“Not Naimy?” Amaya asked in surprise.

Carver smirked. “No, Warden Amaya. I’d like to take Warden Naimeryn along myself, if there are no objections?”

Naimeryn hadn’t realized she’d made that good of an impression over the last few days. She swallowed thickly, shaking her head. She smiled at Amaya, who gave her a quick nod.

“All right Wardens. Let’s move.”

…

“I feel them,” Naimeryn said suddenly.

“Me too,” Carver nodded solemnly. “It feels… wrong. Larger than a small incursion.”

He knocked on the next door. The villagers inside were wide-eyed, terrified.

“Oh, thank the Maker!” The woman sobbed, a young girl clinging to her skirts. “Grey Wardens! We didn’t know if we should stay and hide, or —“

“It’s all right, ma’am,” Naimeryn said gently. “We’re evacuating everyone to the cliffs to the sou—“

Eerie whispers flooded Naimeryn’s head, without having passed through her ears. The Blight in her blood sang beneath them, sinister notes dripping in rage and malice. She shook her head against the headache mounting at the base of her skull, aware of Carver rushing the villagers out, but barely able to hear him.

“They’re under us,” she told Carver, even as his arm was circling her waist.

The ground where they’d been standing fell away as Carver spun them to safely, a yawning mouth down into the Deep Roads now gaping at them where none had been. Carver released her and loosed his sword, and on sheer instinct she grabbed her staff.

They came flooding from the hole like ants from an anthill one had been unlucky enough to disturb, clawing their way through and over one another. Their eyes glowed red. Their skin was taut against their bones, mottled red and black and pale, pale white with bulging black tendrils of Blight choking their limbs and necks. They snarled and roared and growled and moved *wrong.* Jerky, uncontrolled steps and wild, unpredictable swinging of claws and weapons made of bone or old, rusted metal.

And the smell. Rotting flesh and blood in equal measure.

Naimeryn thought she might be sick, or freeze in her panic, but neither of those things happened. Instead, she swept her staff out in front of her, sending a wave of magic in an arc in front of Carver and herself, knocking the first wave of Darkspawn back into the second. Carver let out a battle cry and charged. Before joining him, Naimeryn sent sparks of magic into the sky above them. If the others weren’t already fighting as well, they would know they were needed.

She returned her attention in front of her in time to slam her staff into the ground to blast three Darkspawn back away from herself.

“There’s too many!” Carver yelled to her. “This was just supposed to be a small incursion!”

He grunted in pain as a genlock barreled into him, knocking him into a wall.

“Carver!” Naimeryn shouted, summoning all of her mana and throwing a blast of arcane bolts at the line of Darkspawn. They shrieked as they caught aflame, and she fought her way to him as he relieved the genlock of its head.

“You’re hurt!” She said, seeing blood at the torn seams of his armor.

“We’ve got to fall back,” he grunted, shoving her away from him and starting to follow. “Move, move!”

She turned and ran the direction he’d indicated, periodically throwing blasts of magic over her shoulder. Where were the others? Were they all right?

Naimeryn came around the corner and found herself face to face with an ogre.

She’d known they were big. But this monster towered over her, nearly three times her height, breathing hot air down at her while it’s glowing red eyes narrowed and its fanged mouth seemed to *smile.* She screamed, falling backward, barely conjuring a shield in time to protect herself from the downswing of its giant bone club.

Carver leapt in front of her, using the club as a springboard and sinking his sword deep into the ogre’s chest. With a roar, it collapsed. Naimeryn leapt to her feet, fending off the incoming ghouls from behind them with blast after blast from her staff, all the while backing towards the ogre carcass and Carver, struggling to retrieve his sword from its flesh.

“Incoming!”

From the rooftops, arrows began to rain down on the Darkspawn. With them preoccupied for a moment, Naimeryn spun and ran up the ogre’s body, wrapping her hands around the hilt of Carver’s sword with him. She planted her boot on the damned thing’s jaw and threw all of her weight back with him. The two of them nearly fell as it finally came loose.

“Goff! Is anywhere clear?” Carver shouted up to the roof.

“They’re not on the north side yet!” Came the reply. “But you and Thorne need to get out of the streets!”

“Working on it!”

Carver slammed his body into the nearest door, and with a splintering of wood, it gave way.

“Go, go!” He pushed her in ahead of him. “Up the stairs!”

She started up them as he toppled a heavy piece of furniture across the open doorway. His footsteps behind her were as thunderous as her own heartbeat in her ears.

This wasn’t a small incursion. This was damned near a *horde!*

The second floor landing ended in a locked door.

“Wait, wait!” She waved her hand at Carver to back up a step, then blasted it open with her staff. She ran into the small bedroom ahead of him — there was only one window, on the back side of the house. Naimeryn crossed to it quickly, throwing it open. The street below was clear, but there was nothing to break the two-story fall. She twisted to look up, but there was nothing to climb. They’d have to jump to the eaves and heft themselves up, but the rooves she could see didn’t look very sturdy. It was their best shot.

“Can you jump?” she asked Carver, turning to face him. He had gathered the bedspread from the single bed against the back wall, and was attempting to stuff it into his torn armor to staunch the bleeding. He was pale. Too pale.

“Warden-Commander?” She asked nervously. Before he could answer, a ghoul burst up the stairs into her room. Naimeryn blasted it back down the stairs, cracking her staff across the head of another. She ran to the wardrobe, jumping onto one side of it and toppling it, rolling out of the way just before being crushed herself. A ghoul who tried to sneak under before it completely blocked the doorway was not so lucky.

“That won’t hold them long,” Naimeryn fretted, rushing back to Carver’s side. “I’m no good with healing spells. We need to get you to Amaya.”

“Can we get to the roof?” Carver wanted to know.

“Can you jump?” She repeated, guiding him to the window. His steps were wobbily. Creators, what was she going to do?

“Ladies first,” he smirked at her. He looked suddenly very boyish, though she knew he was not.

“I’m not an idiot,” Naimeryn shook her head. “We have a better chance of both getting out if you go first and can take your time. Come on.”

Carver hesitated, then stepped onto the window frame as the wardrobe began to rattle in earnest. He puffed out his cheeks and jumped up, grabbing the roof. As he did, the windowsill crumbled, leaving a hole in the wall where Naimeryn would have stepped. Behind her, the wardrobe rocked.

“Goff!” She heard Carver yell. She stuck her head out the hole in the wall in time to see the others hefting him over the edge. Creators have mercy.

The wardrobe flew across the room, smashing into the back wall and crumbling into splinters over the bed. Naimeryn whirled around and threw a blast at the charging Darkspawn, forgetting she stood at the edge of a whole in the wall.

“Naimeryn!” Someone shouted as she fell backwards towards the street.

She twisted, throwing a spell at the ground and just barely managing to break her fall.

“Thorne!” Goff was shouting. “Get your ass up here!”

Naimeryn clambered back to her feet and ran, not needing to see them or be told that the Darkspawn were hard on her heels. She leapt up onto piles of crates, onto a wagon, across an awning, onto a narrow balcony, and finally up onto a rooftop on the opposite side of the street.

“Head north!” Carver was shouting to her. “Find Antoine and Evka! We need to regroup!”

Hey! 22 or 17 for the Rook story time prompts!

So I initially was going to jump on 22, because my knee jerk reaction was to laugh at the thought of Naimeryn teaching someone else a skill. BUT, then I remembered that I have this headcannon that Naimy wouod totally wash everyone’s laundry for them, kind of out of habit to fill the time, but also kind of as a “I care about you so I will voluntarily do for you this thing I was for years FORCED to do”, and then I was that gif of excited Chris Pratt as this idea came to me. So, I will circle back to prompt 22 at a later date, and right now here’s the answer to Story Time Prompt 17: Rook teaches someone a new skill.

This functions as FANFIC SNIPPET 37; and will chronologically fall shortly after the snippet where the Bellara and Lucanis find out Naimy’s favorite breakfast food is pancakes.

[Lucanis finds out Naimeryn does everyone’s laundry for them.]

——————————————————————————

“Rook? What are you doing?”

“Oh, Lucanis!” Naimeryn squeaked, jumping and dropping several of the linens off the top of her basket. She turned to face him so she could see him. He looked surprised to have startled her.

“Sorry,” she said before he could speak, stooping to pick up what she’d dropped with one hand, holding the basket against her hip with the other. “I didn’t hear — or see — you leave the pantry.”

“Apologies,” he returned. “I did not mean to startle you.”

Naimeryn straightened up and shrugged with a shy smile. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just still getting used to the dead zone.”

She waved her left hand next to her face good-naturedly. A thought occurred to her, and she quickly dropped her hand. A master assassin would probably think someone who was half-deaf and half-blind an unfit leader. She smoothed her tunic over her thigh anxiously.

Lucanis watched her for a moment, then said “You… didn’t answer my question. What is all that?”

“Oh! It’s everyone’s laundry. I try to do it on days I don’t have to leave the Lighthouse. Make sure everyone’s sheets are nice and fresh, that kind of thing. I know it’s only been a few days, and you don’t really… sleep. But, do you want me to do yours?”

Lucanis frowned. “You… do the team’s laundry?”

“Yeah…” Naimeryn’s chest squeezed. Was that… wrong? “It’s just something small I can do so no one else has to worry about it, you know?”

Lucanis looked unconvinced. “Doesn’t the Lighthouse just… provide clean sheets?”

Naimeryn opened her mouth. Shut it again. She hadn’t thought about that. “Oh… I don’t know. I found the laundry room right after Bellara moved in and I just… started doing it.”

“Do the others know?”

“I… I don’t know that either. Does it matter?”

“I feel like I’m upsetting you.”

“*No,*” Naimeryn said quickly, dropping more of the laundry as she reached out to touch his arm reassuringly. Quickly pulled her hand back. What if he didn’t like being touched? She shouldn’t be overly familiar. They’d really just met. “No, no, I — *ow*!”

They’d both bent down to pick up the fallen laundry at the same time, and their heads had collided.

“I am *so* sorry,” Naimeryn said miserably as he rubbed his head. “I — I’m gonna just. Go.”

“You have a lot there,” Lucanis said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “Would you like some help?”

“I —“ Naimeryn didn’t know what to say. No one had ever offered to help her with a chore before. Would it be all right to accept his help? Before she could decide, he’d gathered the fallen items in his arms.

“Let me help,” he said firmly. Naimeryn felt her cheeks flush at how earnestly he was looking at her.

“All right,” she mumbled. “It’s this way.”

She led him past the stairs up to the deck, to the stairs that lead down, beneath the dining hall. It was still strange to her how the room had simply not existed when she’d first explored the Lighthouse, but once there were four of them, the stairs had just… appeared.

“I must warn you,” Lucanis said, stepping onto her right side as they walked down together. Her heart fluttered. What was wrong with her? “I have never done laundry in my life.”

Naimeryn started to laugh, then caught his expression. “*Never*?”

He shook his head. “I’m the First Talon’s grandson. We had servants for that.”

*Servants?* a nasty voice prickled at the back of her mind. *Or* slaves?

Naimeryn swallowed the thought and forced herself to smile at him. “I guess that makes sense. I guess I never really thought about how lucrative being a Crow must be.”

“Our services are *very* expensive,” he allowed with a slight bob of his head.

“Good thing Varric’s coffers are paying then,” Naimeryn wanted to sound carefree, but nerves stirred deep in her core. It never occurred to her to think about the money. “Anyway, here we are.”

She walked to the large round tub at the center of the room, reaching up to pull the chord to fill it with hot water.

“Where does the water come from, I wonder?” Lucanis said, more the himself than to her, setting the clothes and sheets in his arms on the stone edge of the tub.

“Hm, dunno,” Naimeryn eyed the spout as she put the basket down as well. “We’re basically right under the kitchen, so logistically it makes no sense. But then, Fade logic is its own beast.”

As the room filled with steam, Naimeryn went to the shelf and gathered the soaps and two washboards.

“This is not easy work,” Naimeryn warned Lucanis, turning back to him. He was already rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Naimeryn swallowed thickly.

*Get it together!* she groaned internally. *They’re just forearms, Creators have mercy!*

“I am no stranger to hard work,” he cocked an eyebrow at her, further dizzying her feelings. “I did not mean to imply that.”

“Okay, Crow boy,” she smirked, opting to tease rather than reveal how uncomfortable she was making herself. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Unexpectedly, Lucanis proved an *excellent* listener. He followed her directions exactly as she explained how to measure out the proper amount of soap, and watched intently as she demonstrated washboard technique. Once he’d gotten the hang of it — it was a simple enough task, this was nearly immediately — they settled into a rhythm, and a companionable silence.

Naimeryn found she rather enjoyed his company. She supposed it could have been any of her companions, really; it was just nice to not have to be alone, even while doing something as mundane as washing clothes. He needn’t even have been helping. She supposed he could just have easily been reading a book or, she didn’t know, sharpening his knives. Just having him in the same space at the same time was… comforting.

Once the clothes were washed, she showed him how to hang things on the lines to ensure they dried completely — spread out, nothing overlapping. When they were done, she admired their handiwork and smiled at him with her hands on her hips.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” she teased.

“The credit all goes to my instructor,” he smirked. Naimeryn’s cheeks burned again, and she ducked her head.

“You were an attentive student.”

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[bunnyboy-juice]

spent the first hour and change at work deleting some old files and am having a grand ol time laughing at myself for not realizing i was a lesbian sooner

[jrueships]

can you please walk us through the relationship between wemby and jabari the people need to know

i think the most notable thing about vic and Jabari's relationship is that they don't have one, when it would be so beneficial if they did. they're like two soldiers fighting for the opposite sides of a war, too loyal to the cause to stop and think about what could have been if they just lowered their respective weapons aimed by cold hands larger than their own. foils by fate, friends by freedom.

' remember, you will Always be Different. '

' remember, you will Always be Replaceable. '

'Replaceable'

Jabari's dad made it in the NBA, then didn't. He was a big that could shoot, but wasn't a post-up man. Back then, post-up was the desired style. Ironically, now, it's all about shooting. But his dad didn't live in the now, and his career in the US was short-lived, to keep it cordial. Jabari's older brother played basketball throughout his whole life, but stopped after college. Jabari's cousin, Kwame Brown, was drafted 1st overall in the lottery, and became a notorious bust for the Washington wizards.

Basketball is a business. Basketball is fleeting.

It doesn't matter that a big with sharpshooter skills is valued as something so 'prized' in today's nba, not back then, not when it would have mattered for Jabari's dad. Making it is one ballpark in its own, but Staying in it? Can perhaps be an even more painful ordeal when the hoops to accomplish it aren't circus hoops, but a plain hill some just don't have the strength, mentality, or the materials to help climb without distraction or pitfall.

Jabari's dad made sure Jabari had this threat forever ingrained in his mind. When he yells at Jabari for misplaced eye contact, for typing the wrong words in a public social media reply, for reacting in a way a camera might misinterpret, it's out of love. Jabari's dad was known for being a hassle to coach back then, maybe because he knew his potential and no one else did because it was too new to the mold. So he makes sure Jabari doesn't follow his same habits. Jabari is polite to authority, simply replies with a 'Yes Sir' or a 'No Ma'am', he holds eye contact, he wakes up hours before he needs to just to jump rope, just to uphold the standards that his family could not. He is Everything his father is and isn't, plus more. When his team wins, he's still talking about his missed freethrows even 8 hours later. Because someone else could have won the game And hit those free throws too . someone from a family that gained success and stayed in that success. Someone who wasn't Just Another Son of a basketball player trying to do what his father couldn't, someone who was Different .

Everyone knew wemby was different. When his literature class was asked to write an essay about your future dreams in life, he wrote a fictional romance about a couple where the woman got in a car accident and was comatosed as a result, but got better in the end. He didn't write about being a great basketball player one day, because his parents don't pressure him to hunker himself into the norm, even though his mother once was and now coaches. If Wemby one day realized this wasn't for him, they would encourage him to leave and follow whatever greater passions propelling him. He's so agile for his size because his dad was an Olympic talent in track and field. He is someone who has hobbies and talents that are considered common alone, but strange combined, because he loves what he has and what he does. He reads every night for one hour before bed not to appear as some pseudointellectual, but because he Genuinely loves it, and when he loves something, he excels at it. He does try to be different, but not out of ego. He just loves to be. He either accomplishes at 200% or zero. It may be 200% in an unexpected direction, but it's His direction and that's what matters. If he somehow does wind up a bust, a possibility he considers without fear but acceptance as potential fate, then he won't go down as yet another failed first pick. He'll fall as he flew, Victor Wembanyama.

' Different '

' Replaceable'

Jabari winces each time he's subbed out, even for a second, even on an injured ankle, he's silently Stubborn, his posture shrunken and his gaze at the ground yet his eyes, big, wobbling, staring up always at the speaker, he's silently scared.

Jabari doesn't Want to be different. He just wants to be what his family couldn't be when it came to fame: irreplaceable . His parents split when he was younger, he tries his hardest to appease them both as to not cause any more issues. The relationship relies on his shoulders more than ever, and he can't fumble it again. He has to be what his dad couldn't so his dad can stay, commenting on commonality or surprises. He wants to support his still working mother, especially after the split. He doesn't Want to be unique, he just wants Security.

Because this can crumble any moment now, it doesn't matter how high your pick was or how bright the future Could Have been or how the game would later shift to your style if you had just somehow Stayed. Why bet on low chances if you know you can't handle the risk. He shakes any college coaches' hands that showed up to his practices, personally thanks them for coming even though he's one of the best in the country so their presence should be a given to him, it's not. When he picks a college, he picks one that guaranteed their faith in him from day One, and didn't require any further prodding to finally say '.. Maybe we'll offer you a position' like Kentucky did, as big and famous as it is, it wasn't Secured . They saw him as a risk at one point, and that's everything he's been trying to avoid when it came to attention, negatively standing out.

Jabari wants to be known as the strong shoulder to the world. He WANTS to be known as That One Guy who can just carry everything, nameless but Good. He just wants to be Good. Please tell him he's good. Please tell him what he's doing is Good. That basing his entire personality around yet another soldier who ultimately fell in battle but fought nonetheless being nameless is Good. Please feel free to give him all your burdens to bear like he's just some mule, an animal, a Tool .. because that means he's Useful, at least. That means he's Good. And if he isn't good, then he's nothing. Because you can always just buy another one anyways. A better one.

'Different'

Although his parents try not to treat Wemby by simplifying his differences into a strictly labeled, simple FUTURE BASKETBALL PRODIGY box at birth, that doesn't mean that can always stop others from doing it. Wemby signed his first autograph at ten years old.

It didn't matter if he was a kid who was so much more than just his basketball future, basketball fans wanted one thing from him and one thing only: Success. People didn't care about his literary skills or his drawing hobbies. The eyes on his alien needed to be smaller 'so your shoe can sell better, trust us, it's still Your drawing.. your weird little .. not money-making hobby, do believe me, Vic, We know what We're doing. You just stick to whatever you do.'

His differences, in the end, are minimalized just to that. He's just Different. That's what everyone says who wouldn't really care to say anything at all if he never hooped as well as they wanted in the first place. The youtube videos of 40 year old men criticizing his 15 year old games didn't Really care if he was just a kid, they just cared in the 'imagine when he reaches peak physicality? imagine the points (money) he'd make for the nba.' His beautiful differences, artistic, soft, unique but oh-so wonderfully common and passionate.. are all dissolved into 'Different', the Base definition.

he's an alien. Someone you can just dump all your poverty franchise worries onto because don't worry, he's Different. Trust me, he'll save your team. 'He's Different. ..am i talking about how he'd effortlessly answer questions in class while also trying to hide the fact that he's playing on his phone by tucking his bony legs awkwardly in his chair and crouching his spine over that it looked almost scary? HELL NO? what does THAT have to do with BASKETBALL?? no, he's just freakishly long, but like. Gifted. Though. ... I don't know, man, he's just DIFFERENT, okay? you can trust me, i'm a sports podcaster, okay? everything i say is gold.'

A celebrity approaches him because he was different than most famous basketball athletes. He was Different. And yet, when he didn't recognize or notice her presence due to Different cultures ( due to Being Genuinely, Detailedly Different ), he was scorned and ushered out of public eye so another possible pr bomb couldn't injure his reputation as a Difference That They Really Would Rather Not Want.

that's what his reading falls into, his old friends, his family, his art, his personality. If it's beyond ball, if it's beyond Business. The world only cares if it's marketable. Sure, some reporters will ask a question outside of sport, but only because it'll be a Different.. funny little nugget of knowledge for fans to laugh at then soon disregard for what Really made him famous. But, Wemby is what he always wanted to be. He's Different. So What if it's not exactly the kind of Different he actually wants, he actually functions on? No one has the time to perform 200% anymore. Slap the label you wanted and call it quits, stop being so High-Maintenanced. That's not marketable.

You're just different. And to some people, that's all you'll ever be. No need to explore it any further. Who knows, your Consumers might find something they won't like. And we can't risk that happening to our greatest circus freak.

i mean. Generational basketball talent .

If there's a press conference going on that somehow includes the two, then Wemby just wants to be sure everyone can hear what he really wants to say, in his own words, not echoing anyone else's, and Jabari just wants to Be in the Room.

His brother stopped playing basketball because his family said he didn't try hard enough. Jabari Can't have that. His whole life revolves Around basketball, around sport. He doesn't WANT to be DIFFERENT if that isn't the soundest option, he just wants to be GREAT. Because GREAT is SUCCESS. Jabari Smith is not success. It's just a retry at it . His father shares the same name.

Wemby's life did not always revolve around basketball, to people, at one point. At one point, Wemby's life was just his life. Now, it seems like only his family think that, and they're from a whole other country. When he comments on videos critiquing his playstyle, he doesn't do so out of anger or questioning, he does so because he genuinely Wants to improve. He Does want to be great. But, he wants to be great in Everything that he finds interesting. He always did. When he likes an author, he reads All their books, not just their most notorious novel. He wants to be transported into other people's worlds so he can learn, so he can change, so he can be Different. Even if he somehow were to lose all of this fame, this Greatness, this job, this opportunity, he will never really lose. Because he's someone who's always taken opportunities to the fullest, so even if they pan out a little differently, that's Fine, really, because he's different. Not in the minimizing, dictionary definition then leave the meaning at that different, but in the butterfly effect. What he once was ten days ago is not exactly the same of what he is now, and it hurts, sometimes, when people fail to see that, or simply don't want to because textbook different is easier to digest than worldly different.

IN SHORT.. theyre foils. i can't Exactly walk u thru their relationship bcs .. there Isn't one.. & that's what's so Interesting about them. That's what makes their relationship, to me. Because if they WERE to be friends, if they somehow in some alternate world WERE to get paired up on the same team... they would be friends. I really think they would be. Not only because their signs are so compatible, or their differences are so stark, but because their similarities would triumph everything beautifully. Maybe. We don't know because they Weren't paired together, we can only speculate. But i think it would be big and beautiful, whatever they would have, it would be Something.

unfortunately, we don't live in an alternate world where they're teammates though ! Double unfortunately, Jabari and Wemby's biggest similarity is their loyalty to the game (a double-edged sword in both their lives from Jabari's silent unhealthy desire to be limited and Wemby's silent desperation not to be) Wemby, in Jabari's eyes, is Indeed a powerful...

Problem.

He's not really a person to him . In all fairness, no one really is when they're involved in the basketball world, not to Jabari, not from the way he's been taught. Everyone's supposed to be Replaceable, a faceless tool in the pocket of good business.

.. except for This freakazoid. Apparently.

APPARENTLY, he's some supposed 'saint'. someone to be feared for being more. APPARENTLY, the reporters just LOVE yapping about him SO much, that Jabari HAS to take the time out of his training just to talk about some guy who doesn't even GO here, yet when they ask him about his opinion on future prospects. WELL, that's ALL wemby IS to Jabari, just another future prospect. Just another problem.

A problem he'll be sure to check off his list.

... okay, so Maybe he's a bit more than a problem.. maybe.. he's just a really persistent problem? yeah, that's it, nothing more. Jabari will work through this. He Always does. That's what he does well, Work.

Wemby wonders if that's all he ever does .

But he doesn't have long before Jabari's marching down the tunnel to beat himself up over all his mistakes other people would never make, and Wemby's being escorted to an interview that other people would never make solely to show how Much he just Stands Out as a soul... in basketball .

I hope they find each other in basketball, and out of it as well. I just feel like

Something would Happen