#you can see where my writing inspo for him comes from vaguely here

[falindankovsky]

For anyone who’s interested in Falin here’s a whole playlist for his character <3

[scarletwinterxx]

my 200 - mark lee imagine

helllooooo, it's been a while😅 well to sum up the time i was gone, i've been busy with work, i cried alot after taeyong's enlistment, i secured tickets to see dreamies, i cried some more. i think that's it hahah anywayssss Mark Solo!!! i love love love the song🥺 and that's my inspo for this scenario, hope you like it!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics and gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"So, are you still mad at him?" Haechan asks again. The same question he's been asking since the other night you went home upset. Ofcourse being your brother he knows you, he might be annoying as heck but he does care for you.

"I'm not mad at him"

"Then why aren't you talking?"

"Who says we aren't talking?" you asked back

"You haven't charged your phone since yesterday. I would know since I can track you. Number two, you're actually hanging out with me"

You hit him on the arm, glaring at him

"No but really, you good?" he asks

"I don't like it when you get serious. But to answer your question, no I'm not so fine right now" you finally admit

"So you two really fought? wow, never thought I'd see the day"

"Shut up, we didn't fight. I just said something and he freaked out then I freaked out now we're here" you vaguely explain, Haechan look at you with a confused look on his face.

"Care to share?" he prods

"I said I love you to him, I'm not even mad if he didn't say it back because that's not why I said it but the way he reacted got me thinking maybe I shouldn't have said it. There, now you know"

Haechan looks at you for a few seconds before shaking his head and walking ahead without saying anything else

"Yah! Where are you going?"

"Away from your stupid" he teases you, "I'm already upset enough, you can atleast pretend to be on my side"

He stops walking making you halt too. Haechan takes a deep breath before speaking as if he's preparing to make a speech

"I'm only gonna say this now because it's still weird my bestfriend is dating my sister, so you listen okay? This is Mark we're talking about. The same guy who let me boss him around just so I finally let you go out for coffee with him. The Mark that stayed with you at the hospital when you sprained your ankle and wouldn't let you lift even your finger for weeks until you got better. The Mark who would get coffee for you when don't even like the smell of coffee. I have to listen to him swoon over you every time we hang out, I hate it but I like him for you. Is that the guy you're doubting?"

As you listen to his words, all those scenarios play in your head. Each one making your heart fill with warmth only Mark could make you feel. Haechan and Mark have been friends longer than you and Mark have dated, he knows his bestfriend and you trust your brother.

"Then what do I do? I don't want to freak him out"

"If anything, I think he freaked himself out" Haechan chuckles, "Believe me, when it comes to you his brain cannot function right. He speaks many language but he forgets all of them when it's you he's thinking about"

You smile at that, feeling better.

"You're still coming to open mic night, right?" Haechan asks

"Ofcourse, Mark's still playing so I'll be there"

"Good, talk to him after. Not before, after. He won't get the words out if you talk to him before"

That night you arrived at the chill bar rented for the event. Mark told you a weeks ago he's playing, you were excited to hear him play live.

Just because you're in a bit of a situation doesn't mean you won't cheer for him. That's why Mark has been looking at the door ever since he arrived. Every time someone walks in, he gets his hopes up to finally see you since he had his freak out infront of you but it's been 40 minutes and you're still not here.

He should've picked you up. As your boyfriend, he thinks that's his job but Haechan told him the two of you will meet him there. Atleast you're coming.

"Hey Mark, you're next" Dejun calls him, gesturing to the small stage. Mark takes a look at the door one last time before walking onstage, strapping his guitar on before facing the audience.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the dark corner you concealed yourself from his view. You've been watching him watch the door, a pang in your chest when his hopeful eyes turn sad.

You watch him get on stage, getting his guitar and tapping the mic to make sure it's on.

"Hello... Hi... Okay it's working. Uh Hi everyone, I'm Mark. For tonight I'm going to sing an original song I wrote. Hope you like it" he smiles, earning cheers from the crowd.

You don't miss the squeals from the females in the crowd, whispering amongst themselves while looking at him in a way you don't really like.

Standing straight against the wall, you wait for him to start

"First you crashed into

my life and you just broke

My roof and my window

girl you had me shook"

You knew Mark's singing voice is good, countless times he serenaded you. Him and his guitar and you as his only audience.

"Who told me

love would come down

like a million rocks"

"You are my rockstar

Without you

I’ll always feel alone

When I’m lost

you guide me home yeah

You make my whole heart

When nothing adds up

I’ll be your number

You’re a 106 and I’m 94 yeah"

You can't even say or do anything but listen to him. Each word sinking in, in your head you're wishing to the universe that the words were meant for you.

In that moment, his eyes meet yours. Just like that, Mark's gaze changes. Like his purpose for being here finally arrived. Now he's not closing his eyes as he sing, he's looking right into your eyes straight into your soul as he says the words

"A million different stars but you’re the one

First you crashed into my life and you just broke

My roof and my window girl you had me shook

I’m living that Drama in my head again

Who told me love would come down like a million rocks

The rock you came with was an alibi

You and I we have the same disguise

Even that long brim of grey cap can’t hide

So till night rolls in again, together Can we rise up

You are my rockstar

Without you I’ll always feel alone

When I’m lost you guide me home yeah

You make my whole heart

When nothing adds up I’ll be your number

You’re a 106 and I’m 94 yeah"

The crowd cheers as he finishes the song but all he can see is you. He puts down the guitar then makes a beeline towards you. Everything else is background noise to him.

When he gets to you, he can't say anything. The words getting stuck.

"You sound great. The song too" you tell him

"Thanks" he mumbles, making you laugh. Instead of saying anything else, you just throw your arms around him, instantly he hugs you back. Burying his head in-between your neck and shoulder, a few days is too long without your hugs so he missed you terribly.

"I missed you" you hear him mumble

Tangling your fingers in his hair, you bask in his warmth. You missed him just as much. Any misunderstanding already forgotten.

"Let's get out of here" he says, breaking from the hug first before leading you out the door

"Where are we going?" you ask

"Anywhere, I just want to be alone with you" he smiles, giving you a quick kiss on the temple before the two of you started to walk with no destination for the night.

"So... tell me about the song"

Your intertwined hands swings in between the two of you, you watch him smile to himself like he just remembered something funny.

"It's called 200"

"200?"

He nods his head, "like you know 106 plus 94" he reference the lyrics to his song

"Yea that too, what does that mean by the way?" you ask, genuinely curious as to what inspired him to name the song 200 and the meaning behind the love filled lyrics

"94 days, that's when we had our first kiss. On the 94th day since we started dating. We went ice skating, then I walked you home. We kissed outside your door" he tells you, his eyes stay on the ground while yours stay on him

You can't even begin to describe what you're feeling right now. Kind of confused but also very very much moved with his words.

"and the 106?"

"You know... the first time we... yea that." he scratches the back of his neck, getting shy to explain the second reference but you already know what he meant.

This time you stop walking making Mark stop too. Finally he looks up at you, "So 200?" you ask

He bites his lips, his mind trying to process the words because he doesn't want to mess this up. He moves so now he's full facing you, pulling on your other hand so now he's holding both and you're now facing him too.

"There are a lot of meaning for 200 actually. But one of them could be 'Divine Timing', it means to trust the universe and Heaven are working on it, that you need to wait before everything falls into place. You know I used to think it would be so hard to fall in love, I used to wonder how would someone know that that person is the one for them. What if they're not? What then? I had so many questions, I had so many doubts" he admits, explaining the meaning behind 200

"Then like an answered prayer, you came into my life. I've never questioned anything since. Not until you told me you loved me, that night I was at lost. Not because I don't feel the same, it's because I do. I do love you. How is it that the girl of my dreams and my reality loves me too and she said it first before I could? Do I deserve her? Do I deserve you?"

By this time, tears welled up on the corners of your eyes. Mark looks at you in awe, wiping the few tears that managed to escape

"Sorry I acted that way, I had so many things to say but I didn't know how"

"Haechan did say you tend to forget how to speak when you're with me" you joke, making Mark laugh

"Well he's not wrong, you just render me speechless every time" he tells you

"So the song was about me?"

"Yes, and each and every song I sang. Some of my own, others I've picked because it reminded me of you. You are the music of my life, my only muse. I'll be your music for this lifetime" he takes your face in his hands, memorizing every detail of this moment so he could sing about it for the years to come.

"You love me?" you ask, pouting adorably at your boyfriend. He nods at you with a smile on his face before kissing you sweetly

"Very very very much. I love you, so so much" He whispers against your lips, sealing each word with a kiss like sealing a promise to you.

You smile with each peck, your grin growing until you were giggling. Music to Mark's ears. "I love you, too" you tell him

"I know you hate math, but when nothing adds up just think 200" he jokes making you laugh

"You and your way with words" you playfully roll your eyes at him

"You love me"

"That I do, Mark Lee. That I do.  

[phdmama]

Hey lovely, how about 43 from the smut dialogue list if you’re still looking for inspo - and maybe buddie as the ship? (I may have started reading a few fics and it might be about to become a problem…) but any ship that takes your fancy if you’re prefer!

Hello my dear pal!! I am so so excited you're reading some Buddie!! xox

I am so sorry this took this long to write (I've had some real rollercoaster ups and downs over the past few days with this silly broken leg bullshit). So anyway - here is where my brain went! (Keep in mind, I am lots of painkillers and have barely written in months!)

43. “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

Show My Mouth (Your Favorite Places)

Buddie, ~2300 words, Explicit tags: getting together, first time, Eddie Diaz has yet another close call, gratuitous use of italics, only lightly beta'd by me, set somewhere vaguely post season 7ish?

They’re barely through the door of Buck’s loft and Buck immediately has Eddie backed up against it, reaching out to run a hand over Eddie’s chest.

“I’m fine, Buck,” Eddie says again, and yeah, okay, it’s probably the tenth time he’s repeated the words but that was too close a call, and Buck says as much as Eddie tips his head back against the door, his eyes closed.

“Take your shirt off,” Buck says, reaching for the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. It’s dirty and torn and Eddie doesn’t protest, doesn’t even open his eyes, just lifts his arms and lets Buck pull the rough fabric over his head.

“If you wanted to get me out of my clothes, all you had to do was ask,” Eddie says and Buck freezes.

“I just. I need to see you’re okay,” he says finally, and Eddie just smiles. 

“Help yourself. I told you, the thing barely grazed me.”

Buck doesn’t answer, just flips on the light and runs his hands lightly over Eddie’s chest. There are some scrapes, a few spots that will probably bruise, but Buck has to admit Eddie is probably right, the damage is superficial. Buck doesn’t really pay attention to what his hands are doing, caught in the memory of the way the tree had come down and for one, brief, terrifying moment he’d thought… He’d thought. That’s all.

He’s still thinking, lost in it when Eddie says, his voice rough, “Buck.”

“What?” Buck startles back to the moment and realizes he’s been, well. 

He’s been gently stroking Eddie’s bare chest, and Eddie’s eyes are open now, dark and intense, fixed on Buck’s face. His skin is slightly goosebumped and his nipples are tight buds on his broad chest. Buck rips his gaze away and swallows, his throat dry.

He’s worked so hard to just be chill, is the thing. After he and Tommy broke up (no real drama, just Tommy gently letting him down), Buck has been so, well. Aware of men, is the thing. Men in general and one man in particular. Buck knows he’s been weird about Eddie from the very beginning, and he knows Eddie is just as weird about him, and there have been moments where he’s thought… maybe… but he’s never been sure. Never seen a look on Eddie’s face like the one currently leveled at him.

“Are you, um. Are you cold?” he whispers and Eddie’s mouth curves.

“Not even a bit,” Eddie says, and his voice is so low and gravelly, it legitimately sends a shiver down Buck’s spine.

“Are you in pain?”

Eddie just shakes his head, not breaking his gaze. 

“I, just.” Buck’s heart is pounding. It feels like an avalanche in his chest, and under his hands, he can feel Eddie’s heart racing, just as fast. “Eddie,” Buck says, his voice pleading, although he doesn’t even know what it is he’s asking for. 

Eddie knows though, the way Eddie always knows.

Eddie simply replies, “Buck,” and then lays one hand over one of Buck’s where it’s still resting on his bare skin. 

For one brief, agonizing moment, Buck worries that Eddie is pushing his hand away, but it immediately becomes clear that's not what’s happening. Eddie is not pushing Buck’s hand away, he’s pushing it down. Eddie slides Buck’s hand down over his own toned abdomen, slowly enough that Buck can feel the expansion as Eddie takes a deep breath, and then, oh god. Then he shifts Buck’s hand even lower to where he’s hard in his LAFD sweats.

Buck stares at him as Eddie presses his hand to the hard length of him under the rough cotton. “Eddie,” he whispers.

“I’m not cold,” Eddie says quietly. “I’m not in pain. I don’t need you to fuss over me.”

“Then what,” Buck swallows. “What do you need?”

Eddie just grins, and he lifts the hand that’s not pressing Buck’s against his cock to curve it around Buck’s face. 

“I think you know,” is all he says and Buck breaks.

He surges forward, tightening his fingers around the hard shaft under his hand as he pushes forward, his mouth landing on Eddie’s. Buck is frantic, gasping as he lets himself go, lets himself take what he’s been longing for for so long. He’s afraid that this might be his only chance, that if he takes his time, Eddie will change his mind.

But Eddie doesn’t seem inclined that way. He meets Buck in the middle, strength for strength, passion for passion, kiss for kiss, until he begins to gentle things between them. 

Eddie pulls back, and whispers, “Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

He leans back in and this time he sets the pace with deep, slow kisses, syrupy-sweet, until Buck thinks his knees might genuinely give out.

“Buck,” Eddie whispers and shifts, letting his mouth move over Buck’s face to his neck, a quick nip to the sensitive skin behind Buck’s ear that has Buck groaning and shaking. “Buck, baby. Let me take you to bed.”

“Too far,” Buck mumbles, turning his head to catch Eddie’s lips with his own. “Can’t wait.”

“Couch then,” Eddie insists and doesn’t stop kissing Buck, just gently herds him backwards through the apartment until Buck’s dropping onto his couch and pulling Eddie down with him.

For several moments, Buck doesn’t think about anything at all except the feel of Eddie’s chest against his own, the taste of Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s hand in his hair as they kiss. He finally has to pull back to take a deep gasping breath, and just stares at Eddie over him.

“Is this… is this really happening?” Buck finds himself asking and Eddie grins, drops a quick kiss to the tip of his nose.

“It is if you want it to be.”

Buck just blinks at him. “I didn’t know. How did I not know you wanted this?”

Eddie shrugs, shifts his weight off of Buck so he can pull Buck up to sitting. “Let’s just say… when you started dating Tommy, I figured a few things out.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

Eddie shakes his head. “Of course not, Buck. You and Tommy, well. You were happy. Having fun. I didn’t think this was possible, but then when you guys broke up, and we were back to hanging out all the time. I started to think that maybe…” his voice trails off as he hooks his fingers under the hem of Buck’s t-shirt and starts to remove it. 

Buck automatically lifts his arms. “Have you ever… with a guy?”

Eddie just smiles, shakes his head. “Never let myself even think about it when I was young, and then. I guess it was just never the right time. Until now.” He lifts his hand, brushes his knuckles across Buck’s cheekbone, skates his hand down to curl it around Buck’s jaw. “I want to, though. With you, if you want that.”

Buck stares at him. “If I want that? Eddie. Of course I want that. I just. What does it mean?”

Eddie leans in, kisses him once and then again. He feels so good that Buck can’t help but groan as Eddie’s mouth moves to his collar bones as he slowly pushes Buck down onto his back, slides between his legs.

Eddie lifts his head after pressing one last kiss to Buck’s chest. “It means whatever you want,” he says finally.

“But,” Buck is compelled to ask, “what if it changes everything?”

Eddie laughs, low and rough. “Of course it’ll change everything, Buck, and I want that. I don’t think it’ll take anything away though. It’s just another way for me to love you, and I already do, so…”

He pauses and Buck grabs him by the shoulders. 

“Up, up, up here now,” he says frantically, suddenly sure that if he can’t kiss Eddie immediately, he may genuinely die.

Eddie snickers and Buck realizes he’s said that last part out loud. Then Eddie’s mouth is back on him, and Buck stops thinking at all.

He’s aware that this is Eddie’s first time with a guy (and holy hell, that’s a thought so hot that Buck’s brain might melt out of his ears) but there’s nothing in the way Eddie’s moving against him that suggests any hesitation about what they're doing. He lines them up, hard cocks pressed together, both of them still in their sweatpants, and sets up a slow, filthy grind. It’s good, so fucking good, that all Buck can do is wrap his legs around Eddie, grab onto his shoulders, and hold on.

Eddie’s kissing him again, those same deep, slow kisses, his tongue fucking into Buck’s mouth in counterpart to the way their bodies are moving together. Buck’s got his hands firmly planted on Eddie’s ass now, and it’s just as spectacular as Buck always thought it would be, especially with Eddie gasping into his mouth, sexy punched out groans that bring Buck closer and closer to the edge.

“How do you…” Buck starts and then shudders at a particularly innovative shift of Eddie’s hips. “Eddie, fuck, how…”

“How what, babe?” Eddie whispers against his lips, not letting up on the way he’s rolling his hips for even a moment.

“How do you want to come?” Buck finally grits out, holding on by sheer force of will now.

The question seems to surprise Eddie and he eases up now, rocking his hips so slowly as he considers Buck’s face.

“I mean,” Eddie says and then a wicked grin crosses his face. “You’re the expert here, Buckley. Walk me through it. What are the options?”

Buck stares up at Eddie and then can’t help himself, starts to laugh, deep belly laughs as his head drops back onto the couch cushions. “Not an expert,” he gasps finally, and sweeps his hands from where they’re resting on Eddie’s shoulders down his arms to his wrists and then back up again, to link his fingers behind Eddie’s head, pulling him in for a kiss. “Journeyman at best.”

Eddie is still grinning and rolls his eyes affectionately. “Fine. Journeyman. Whatever.”

Buck kisses him again, reaches down to grab Eddie’s hips and pulls them flush to his own, before working his way down Eddie’s neck.

“Lots of options,” he mumbles into Eddie’s collar bones. 

Eddie is grinding against Buck harder now, gasping, and Buck can taste the sweat on Eddie’s chest under his tongue. 

“We can keep doing this,” Buck manages to say and then groans at the way Eddie feels. “Fuck, that’s so. Oh my god, Eddie.”

“What else?” Eddie pants.

“I could… oh shit, Eddie, I could.” Buck swallows, his own breathing ragged in his ears. “I could suck you, jerk you off, whatever you want. You could fuck me,” and Eddie goes rigid above him, head thrown back, tendons in his neck standing out in stark relief as he lets out the sexiest sound Buck has ever heard, and Buck feels Eddie’s cock jerk as he starts to come.

For a long moment, the silence in the room is broken by the harsh sounds of Eddie’s breathing. Then Eddie opens his eyes, and the look on his face cracks Buck’s heart wide open. Eddie looks astonished, awed almost, as if his entire worldview has been shaken, and maybe it has, Buck thinks, remembering some of his own recent revelations. Maybe it has.

Eddie stares down at Buck as his breathing starts to settle, and the weight of him pressing Buck into the couch is as intoxicating as it is reassuring. There’s something so raw and honest about this moment — the way Eddie’s eyes are fixed on Buck’s face, the damp heat between them, the smell of sex intermingled with the scent of the peonies Buck bought at the Farmer’s Market the other day. Buck feels like every sense he has, and maybe some he didn’t even know about, are dialed all the way in.

“Buck,” Eddie breathes and his smile makes Buck’s throat tighten and his eyes prickle suspiciously. “My god, Buck.”

Eddie leans down and brushes a kiss across Buck’s lips, gentle and sweet, but as he does so, the extra pressure on Buck’s aching cock makes him hiss, his hips jerking up not of his volition.

“Oh fuck,” Eddie says, and without further ado, slides down Buck’s body and sticks his hand down Buck’s pants.

It doesn’t take long after that. Objectively, it’s nowhere near the best handjob Buck’s ever had — Eddie’s hand is dry, his grip a bit too tight, and his rhythm isn’t great, but none of that matters because it’s Eddie staring down at him, Eddie whispering things like “God, Buck, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart, c’mon baby, give it to me,” and Buck is helpless to do anything but obey.

It feels to Buck like his orgasm is being drawn out from the very depths of his being, starting deep in his belly and rolling over him like the tide, inevitable and inexorable. Eddie keeps muttering words of encouragement, and when Buck’s head tilts back and his back arches, Eddie grins in satisfaction.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Just like that.”

It turns out Eddie is mistaken. They clean up, make some dinner, collapse on the couch with their food and beers, and it’s no different than any other normal post-shift hangout. In the morning, Eddie good-naturedly submits to the ice packs Buck presses against his bruises, lets Buck make him coffee and bring it to him on the couch. No different from any other close call aftermath.

But Eddie’s never spent the night at Buck’s like that. Never brushed his teeth side by side with Buck before crawling into bed, wrapping himself around Buck like an octopus, the bare skin of his chest pressed to Buck’s back, his hand resting possessively on Buck’s hip. He’s never brushed a kiss to the sensitive skin at the nape of Buck’s neck. And he’s never said I love you quite like this before. So yeah, it turns out that he was also 100% correct. It changes everything.

And it’s amazing.

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Disgrace Chapter 7 : Crosshair x F!OC

Estkle City, hugging the base of the equator mountains, alive with the winds peeling away from Ga'hah's storm spot; This city is port du call for the grand rail that brings civilians through to the Sohn city state in the North. It's the last stop before Tah'nyem finds herself home. Armed with a satchel of casino winnings and a posh nightlife these two are determined to enjoy their evening. They talk about their families, their doubts, and she even bullies him into telling her how his toothpick habit started. For once the world feels slow.

Chapter Specific Warnings: Nudity, Angst and Fluff in a constant tug-o-war, drug use (smoking, drinking), Implied sex and sexual situations, I was hungry while writing this. This is also the chapter where I zoned out and forgot clone twins was fanon. Kark it we ball.

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Authors Note: My stars, are these two actually talking to each other? Self Indulgent chapter, jam packed with cute, watch Tahny die from cute overload. Am I stress posting my work at 5 am again? haha yeah.

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Word Count: 8687

Dynamic: Princess x Guard, Speed running Co-dependancy, A Mangy Cat and his Aggressive little Chihuahua. She's a damsel, she's in distress- she can handle it.

<-Previous Chapter - Read On Ao3 {START HERE}

Music Inspo- Sugar Water, Cibo Matto

Listen on Spotify - Listen on Youtube

Chapter 7 : Sweet Water

The cargo hold bounced with a protesting rumble and I stirred from the light dozing that had taken me.

I was on the cot, laying flat against the rough fabric, nude besides a cloak draped over the narrow bed like a blanket. Crosshair was squeezed next to me, head laying on my shoulder, eyes only half lidded as he relaxed against me. 

There was a slight burning sensation against my sternum and I looked down to see him tracing lines on my skin with the end of a toothpick. Same pattern, over and over, etching a red symbol into my chest. A circle, then a cross through it. 

“You're an artist now?”

He didn't answer, nor stop his work. 

Circle, long vertical line, short horizontal line, circle. 

“Right over my heart?”

He finally slowed, tossing the pick aside, and blew softly over the hot scratches. I murmured sleepily against his forehead at the soothing, cool sensation. 

“What's on your mind, Cross?”

Crosshair still hasn't said anything, just moving to be more over me, taking the rosey peak of my breast into his mouth to suck on softly before coming even to look me in the eyes. 

He was making me a little self conscious, being so quiet… so intimate. 

“Again.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

He was dropping his hips, wedging my thighs apart and I groaned in exhaustion. 

“You can't have anything left by now…”

He wasn't listening, leaning in to kiss my neck and I giggled softly, nuzzling him in his persistence. 

“I need a shower, li’nen…”

We had been on the road for hours now, sections of the trip having the truck slowed to a complete stop.The channels could only do so much against the inclimate weather between the Ga'haiian city states. 

There hadn't been much to occupy us. I had tried to pull open a holofilm but we had gotten… distracted.The tiny sink made washing up pitiful and I was once again dying for hot water. 

The intercom over the workbench crackled to life and Ger'nahei’s voice came over the static. 

“We're pulling into Estkle, twenty minutes till we get to East Station, we'll be stopping just before to let you guys out… better be de~cent,”

That last part was delivered in a sing-song, answering my question about how much they could hear up there. 

Crosshair slumped dramatically against my chest, sighing and letting himself become dead weight on top of me, making it hard to breathe. I struggled, chuffing in showy annoyance. 

“Oh, get off… I need to figure out where our clothes even are,”

“Speak for yourself, mine are right there,”

He vaguely gestured to the pile of discarded armor next to our belongings on the floor. 

“What about your blacks?”

His eyes fluttered open and he glanced around before shutting them again. 

“Don't need em’”

I quit struggling with a short exhale of amusement. Instead, I wrapped my arms about him, stroking his back. 

“Guess I'll be walking about Estkle stark naked… lucky day for the locals,”

He scowled up at me and I shot him a smirk. 

“Not appealing, oh heavy one?”

“People already look at you too much”

He complained, sighing into my breasts but lifted himself to his elbows regardless, drawing the back of his relaxed fingers over my cheek as I raised a brow at him. 

“You're the one that wanted me to be bait,”

“It's the way they look at you…”

It was true, I've never attracted a… normal range of attention. The looks that came my way could never be called innocent; no matter what I tried. 

“Jealousy is still foolish, li’nen”

I stroked his brow, finding his gaze, trying to get through to him that I meant it.

“Men, Women, they look at me, always have… it's not likely to stop till I'm old and gray. I'm used to it,”

My fingers caressed the hollow of his cheek, the sharp jawline and he pressed against the cup of my palm, letting me hold him. 

“They'll stop if I'm with you,”

“I'm not yours to protect, You can't be with me forever…”

His expression darkened.

…

“Cross… you said you didn't care about how it ends-”

Lips pressed to mine without warning, his arms sliding between my back and the cot to hold me to him. 

“I don't…”

He mumbled against my lips, kissing me in quick little pecks. 

“Just… don't talk like that, not as long as there's for now,”

Kisses down my chin, my neck, down to the still hot symbol etched on my chest. 

“For now you are mine… you swore it,”

Is that what I promised?

My eyes were growing hot at the affectionate outpouring. 

How am I supposed to keep this in check while he keeps… doing this…?

But I was pulling his lips back to mine, wrapping my legs about him to get closer. 

…

Bzzzkrt

“Ten minutes,”

~~~

Ger’nahei had opened the door to a rather disheveled duo; A certain someone making a nuisance of himself as I attempted to get some semblance of clothing on. 

At least we found his blacks in time…

They were replacing our weight with sacks of gravel from the side of a depot and closing up again. Crosshair and I stood off to the side on the pavement between the tall, cubic pillars of the Estkle slums. 

The tall woman turned back to us, pulling up a holomap and approaching Crosshair. 

“The station is a few blocks this way towards the city center,”

From here we just grab our tickets and ride the train to Sohn. Easy peasy. 

The rail system being called a train was a vast understatement, the magnetized track powerfully propelling cars that were the size of buildings. The many floors containing sleeper cars, massive cargo storage, an entertainment holoplex and more restaurants than you’d ever actually see attempting to navigate the massive, moving city. 

East rail was more popular for civilian travel, whereas the West rail on the other side of Nohct used to be solely industrial, connecting the mining colonies to the ports but now it was reserved for military and political transport. Not exactly easy travel.  

The holomap was snapped off, and Ger'nahei made to leave. I moved in to give her a hug and she put her hands up, side stepping me.

“I ain't touching you after that concert we heard,”

She was laughing, Sevill was staring daggers at me. Not unusual. I smirked and gave them a little wave as I stepped away from the humming vehicle.

“Good luck, kids,”

Ger'nahei climbed into the rig with a salute and they chugged off, headed to the cargo loading bays of East Station. 

Crosshair casually draped an arm over my shoulders, opening up his own copy of the map to check our heading before steering me out of the alley to the main street lined with ramshackle stands and door stoops full of laughing chattering groups enjoying the weather together.

It was pleasant… strange to me, but pleasant. I watched younglings play along the curb while their families argued jovially about something nearby and was overcome with something wistful and aching.  

Hugging tighter to the side of my escort I tore my eyes away from the smiling faces. 

“It's so peaceful, this busy little world of yours…”

His voice seemed to reflect the ache that gripped my heart as we traveled farther from the residential buildings.

“Yeah… not that war has never touched us, these ghettos are a result of conflicts after all,”

“Still…”

He looked back towards the laughter carried up the street on the breeze to flow through us, then picked up the pace, distancing us from the source of the discomfort coiling around us.

The shopfronts lining the road began to have less bars over the doors and more spotlights casting warm lighting over the stone street with their displays. 

As we rounded the next corner the station pavilion came into view. 

A towering, steaming railcar clung to a tall wide track that stretched off to the horizon. The structures to the sides of the station kept most of the train out of view, but it blended against the gaps to look like parts of the building, almost even with the skyline.

“That's impressive,”

“Mm, it's the only way to get from Nohct to Sohn anymore, the Western line is a lot smaller and not open to civilians… especially since the occupation,”

“No one just… goes through the mountains?”

He looked in the direction of The Equator Range and I shook my head. 

“It's too dangerous… Weather's mild but the ground is unstable, there's Cockerexes everywhere, and above all else it's vast,”

It would take nearly two rotations with a ground vehicle just to cross the desert between the mountains and Sohn’s farmlands, and that's after navigating the mountains and valleys of the dividing range. 

“Besides, the train route is scenic,”

The tracks skirted the Eastern storm Mehaklei, cutting through the rain eroded valley that was now a misty wetland, shimmering and prismatic with the stray rays of light that managed to reach it from the sun facing hemisphere. 

“I’ll get us a view then…”

“My Vah'hadarr should have left us tickets…”

“It'll be safer this way,”

I could see thoughts whirring in him again but was afraid if I asked he would try to distract me with… well, himself… again. His increasingly reckless behavior had me worried what he'd deem appropriate in the small city square. I was trying to gauge when the shift in demeanor started. The private box, the moon… maybe since we left the watchful eye of the military?

He was steering us across the open block, approaching the lit kiosk selling tickets for the massive railcar. 

“Stay here,”

He instructed, angling me to a lamp post,

“I don't want anyone working for the rail to see your face till we're out of the city,”

He pulled my hood up, drawing the cloak about me a little tighter,

“Crosshair, your name was on that list too… and what about chain codes?”

He paused a moment but took my hand reassuringly, gently brushing his lips against my knuckles. 

“They shouldn't be able to recognize me, as for the codes…”

He jiggled our heavy satchel of credits. 

“Nothing money can't buy, Stay.”

He squeezed my hand and backed away, turning into a confident step as he wove his way to the sales counter. 

I leaned against the light and watched him go, his own cape blowing in the soft breeze, giving a peek here and there at the armored physique beneath. The glimpses were teasing as he drifted off and I smiled at the memory of what those hips felt like. 

Minutes passed with him at the counter, chatting to the clerk. A flirty tilt to his shoulders and a smolder in his stern brow was making her giggle while she made our reservation.

Look at him flaunting it.

I chuckled and entertained myself by taking in the surroundings. 

The open street wasn't as busy as the center of Nohct City, though people still drifted about the sidewalks navigating around the speeders that would occasionally pass through. The buildings were close together, shops and restaurants interlaced with hotels and apartments. 

Everything looked a little dingy, the buildings some of the oldest I've seen on Ga'hah. However, the updated storefronts still shone brightly, luring in the foot traffic of the evening diner crowd and a higher class of tourists waiting to depart on the train in the morning. 

I sighed, releasing a tension that I had been holding in my shoulders. Cross was right, this was peaceful. It felt safe… 

I knew the sense of security was foolhardy… Behind the facade of the train square there was the crime, the turf wars and the instability caused by Sohn's absolute disregard for the problems it created in the Southern hemisphere… But for now it felt, safe. Peaceful. 

A hand on my shoulder made me jump and the soldier smirked down at me, handing over a set of train passes. 

“You let your guard down,”

“Can you blame me? Its nice out here,”

I looked down at the passes in my hand and my eyes widened. 

“Cross, a whole suite?”

“We have a lot of credits, and the clerk was easier than I thought she'd be… this much is no good to me, and nothing to you…”

I caught the hint as he gave the satchel another jiggle, sharing a conspiratorial smirk.

“A last night hurrah huh?”

He shrugged.

“How much we got left?”

I was passed the still heavy casino satchel and whistled, checking the time on our tickets. We left early, first thing on the new rotation.

“Let’s find a hotel first, somewhere nice or somewhere less conspicuous?”

We could backtrack, go to something less formal off the beaten path. 

“It's safer where there's more people,”

“Then we'll stay somewhere close, your winnings, your pick,”

He leaned into the lamp post, an arm over my head, talking lower. 

“Then what?”

“A warm shower, then we'll get dinner,”

“Dinner?”

“Dinner”

“Mm, after dinner?”

“We’ll have a few hours, I'm sure we'll think of something…”

We pushed off quickly, an eager sway in his step I couldn't help but mimic as he pulled us to the first hotel within our line of sight. As we made towards the lighted porte cochere his pace faltered in front of a patio packed with patrons clinking cutlery against fine plates. The smell drifting from the restaurant was heavenly, a mix of grilled meats and wood smoke. 

“Let's go here,”

“Mm, sure, but there's a dress code, we'll need to stop and get you a dinner jacket…”

He grimaced, causing me to laugh lightly, patting his chest. 

“Don’t worry, it'll suit you,”

I looked about at the glowing storefronts and hurried us to one that was still open. 

~~~

Our room key guided us to the fifth floor, three doors from the main lift. I held my hand out for the key and Crosshair slipped it to me quietly.

The store experience had left him flustered, having let me take the lead in picking him an ensemble. At least flustered beat the heated irritation the experience started with. The switch in the shop keeper's demeanor between taking in our shaggy appearance and catching sight of our heavy wallet rubbed us. Cross about punched the man on principle and I probably would have let him. 

The door clicked and slid open leading to a simple king suite. A small kitchenette was just inside the door, opposite an alcove leading into the fresher. The large bed took up most of the room, but the feature was a nice set of chairs in a sunken sitting room overlooking a wide window. 

I sighed out a bit more tension, the safety of walls, silence and a locked door. 

“This'll do…”

Cross immediately went to the window and drew the curtain, locking us away from searching eyes. 

“You say that a lot,”

“What?”

“This’ll do,”

He was mocking me slightly. 

“Ever happy with your accomodations?”

“Maybe I'm just greedy…”

My things were starting to pile on the floor. Desperate to wash up and change into something clean, I was already walking to the refresher midstrip, bouncing on a foot stuck in a pant leg. 

“Greedy, huh?”

Cross seemed amused as he followed my half naked, self imposed obstacle course to the tiled room. He growled something under his breath I didn't quite catch, that familiar fire behind his eyes. No time for that though.

I almost cried at the sight of the oversized tub and double headed shower stall, we had been slumming it so long. It did raise a question though…

“Bath or shower?”

It was whispered in my ear, but his hands were busy undoing his armor.

“Mm, let's let fate decide…”

He raised a brow at me as I made my way back into the room undoing what remained of the buttons on my shirt, letting it fall to the ground. 

I picked up the directory next to the complimentary com. After making sure the display scanner was off, I opened a channel to the restaurant we passed. 

“Yes, hello… What time is your next reservation available?... Great, I'll take it… Tah- uh… Tahny. Of course thank you,”

Closing the com, I looked at the device, sparing a moment of regret that I couldn't contact Kahtzi. Changing coms so frequently, you would think I'd have her register memorized but… I was overdo by at least a day, she must be worried… maybe Jar'ath commed her. I shook myself mentally and turned back to the man watching me. 

“Plenty time for a bath,”

As I finished talking I realized the water was already running. 

“Can you still read my mind, Crosshair?... You have to tell me if you can,”

He strutted over and pushed me down onto the bed I was sitting on. Any lingering thoughts of home were wiped clear when my lips were his again; hard, hungry kisses while his strong arms wrapped about me. 

“No… unfortunately, but I can tell the future,”

“Oh yeah? And what does the future hold?”

I was breathing heavily already and he chuckled as he shifted, scooping me off the bed to drape over his shoulder like a rag doll. We headed back to the sound of echoing water.  

“Clean, warm, bath,”

He shifted me down slowly, pulling my body against him as I slid off his shoulder.

“Futures looking bright then…” 

The porcelain was filling quickly with nice clear water and I glanced about for the house soaps on the counter, smelling a few of them before dumping something delicately floral into the forming pool. 

Bubbles sprang forth spreading over the surface and I looked back at Cross. He was fiddling with the light panel, setting the tone to something warm and low before he finished undressing, slipping his blacks to the floor. 

Testing the water briefly, I stepped in with a refreshing slosh that swirled the bubbles. 

“It'll be easier if you settle in first,”

He breezed to the side of the sunken tub.

“Should we let it fill more?”

“Don't worry, you'll displace most of it,”

There was no further hesitation, he stepped in with me and lowered himself into the water causing it to lap at the sides of the smooth tub. I followed, nestling my back against his chest and sighing into the warmth seeping into my senses. 

We let the water finish leveling around us before I tapped the spigot with a toe, not wanting to shift from where I was. It had been a long day and I think both of us were more weary than we let on. 

The water slowed to a trickle and the soft tinkling echoed in the large room with its smooth stone surfaces. 

We had let exhaustion win this time. Curled in the tub in an odd kind of stasis as the world that had been spinning since the night we jumped ship slowly crawled to a stop… letting us be still. 

His fingers were trailing up my arm and back down again. The line he followed was faded, barely visable against my skin now tanned a few shades darker then when the ink was applied. He finished his tour by lacing his fingers in mine, cupping the back of my hand in his, and turning my palm upwards. It was the dark scars on my fingers he was after, stroking his thumb over the small marks. 

My eyes were wandering over his arms, taking in his own sets of markings patterning the skin. Shiney burns, raised rips…

“What's this one?”

I used my free hand to trace a set of parallel marks on his forearm and he groaned, a low laugh, sounding embarrassed.

“Wrecker’s lothcat… he snuck it onboard, guess who found it?”

I smiled softly. 

“Don't like cats?”

“I like cats, that one just didn't like me,”

“And Wrecker… who's that?”

The name had conjured an odd image in me, not really a picture but an impression; loud… apprehension. Odd. 

He took a moment to answer, I was starting to think he'd let another question of mine go flat, but eventually he spoke… softly, fondly. A nameless warmth that I hadn't realized was missing.

“He's my brother, one of, He's a big sweetheart… you'd like him,”

He nuzzled my hair encouraging me to pry further. 

“There's four of them?”

“Three… no, Echo counts, four, I have a sister too now…”

“They make female clones?”

“Yeah, special…like us, but she's just a child,”

“Aren't we all,”

Crosshair had gone quiet again and my heart and mind ached with him. He missed his family. He felt betrayed by them, replaced even, but he missed them. I could feel a tension starting to coil between us, in his muscles pressed against me. A now distant memory of a darkened service tunnel.

“... I had hoped they'd come back.”

I sat up, and turned to straddle his legs, wrapping my arms about his shoulders to pull him into a wet, tight hug against my chest. 

“How do we quell that storm in you, li’nen?”

…

“This helps…for now,”

For now. 

“What do you call the rest of them?”

There was still that lingering guilt of not learning the names of the clones that had traveled with me and his references stirred an odd feeling of familiarity in me, tinged with hurt and longing… a deep sense of broken trust… will I always be colored with his memories, or will this fade? 

He leaned back against the side of the tub to look at me more comfortably. 

“Hmm? Besides Wrecker… I mentioned Echo, he was a Reg before the Clankers got a hold of him,”

“Clankers?” 

“Uh… droids, tore him to bits, now he's part Clanker himself, Then there's Tech, we came from the same tube,”

“That's a thing? You have twins?”

“A few… Echo was a twin too,”

Was a twin?

A pang went through my heart again.

“Are you close? With your twin?”

“You could say that, he's the one of us that does all the talking… then there's Hunter, he's our leader… mainly cause no one else wanted to do it,”

He snickered softly at his own dig, the rumble of it in his chest caused me to smile a little too. I was glad he was talking for a change.

“Is he any good,”

…

His eyes went dark and distant at that, the little crook of amusement leaving his lips, I pivoted,

“... And the girl?”

…

“Her names Omega, honestly… I didn’t get to know her, didn't seem… prudent… seems like a good kid,”

You know the word ‘prudent?’

I was scanning him in the nice warm lights, finally getting a chance to really look at him. The red sun had filtered out our imperfections, making us like new in each other's eyes. The cargo hold was lit, but barely… This was the first time we were able to truly see everything.

 Like his arms, his chest was patterned with the stripes of war. Long gashes here and there, over a peck, across an ab. Countless healed burns from blaster bolts. I ran my hands up his stomach to trace the tattoo over his right rib.

“Ninety-nine…”

“That's our squad… we all have one of these,”

He stretched to give me a better look at the skull over the number. 

I sighed in exaggerated disappointment.

“Guess you're married then…”

His brow furrowed, not expecting that… I winced, rushing to explain the joke.  

“Sorry, old… Ga'haiian stuff, before we adopted the Republic’s ideas of marriages we had our own ways, rather than splitting into couples we would form tight knit clans and they would share a mark… military squads and their tattoos are kind of… similar,”

I leaned, moving my drape of hair to show him the tiny diamond star hidden behind my ear.

“Kahtzi and Jar’ath have matching ones, it's a promise to take care of each other, today people try to equate the two, clans and marriage, to make the fact that clans aren’t legally recognized any longer more palatable,”

“You and… Jar'ath? Not to judge a book by its cover but…”

I shot him a look, but I guess it was a fair question.

“It's not like that, doesn't have to be for the clan to work, he's like a brother… but that's why equating the two is kind of absurd,”

He was quiet again running his fingers over the ink on his ribs. 

“They left me behind… so much for taking care of each other.”

His voice was suddenly thick with bitterness.

I didn't really know what to say, every word feeling hollow as it passed over my tongue just to be swallowed again. The phrase was simple, but I knew the tempest that lived in him. What could match the devistation of such a storm?

“How could they?”

Was all I could really manage, cupping his jaw to turn his eyes so full of hurt to me. 

“I don't know… but they left me again, and again, They just don't want me anymore,”

“That can't be true…”

He choked back a dry, humorless laugh. 

“I guess not directly, Wrecker offered me a half assed invitation… but I've known him my whole life, the very thought of me on the Marauder again made him nervous. And when I didn't immediately jump on their very enthusiastic offer, they left. The second my back was turned, without even another glance… they left me for dead,”

“That can-”

“Thirty two rotations, Tahny…”

“What?”

“They left me, alone, on a platform in the middle of a raging sea, nothing but the smoldering remains of our home for company, it took. Thirty. Two. Rotations. for scouters to find me,”

I froze. 

“How are you alive?”

The words came out as a whisper, my lungs unable to fill against the tightness forming in my chest. 

“I shouldn't be, I should've died out there… I don't belong anywhere anymore,”

I carefully shifted, coaxing him to lean into my arms, to let me cradle him against my breastbone. 

“What about the Empire?”

He sighed,

“Might as well stay… rigid and unyielding, just like me,”

…

The phrase sent a wave of hurt through the back of my mind, alienation, loneliness,

“I don't find you rigid…”

“You don't know me… not everything,”

“Have you not been yourself with me?”

There was a heavy pause, reflecting his contemplation. 

“I don't know…”

“Do you like who you are with me?”

…

“...yes,”

His answer came soft and unsure. I took a deep breath, noting how heavy he felt against me as he surrendered to my touch, his muscles finally relaxing. The waves in him may never cease, I suppose…but I might be a shore for him to crash upon… for now.  

“Then… that's who you are, not what you've done, or what someone says you are… so I do know you, as for the details… tell me, don't tell me, I'll have your back either way,”

He lifted his head from my breast, a shimmer in his eyes as he searched for truth from my words, clinging to it once it was found. 

“I might not be a good person, Tahny,”

“You don't have to be li’nen… might be better if you're not,”

I'm not exactly a good person either… 

I found his lips, pressing against them to sooth him, reassure him. Arms wrapped about me, crushing me against his damp skin. My muscles ached in an unfulfilled bid to protect my lover, all I could do was cradle him, kiss him. 

…

The water began to cool around us, and I made to turn the tap back on to add more heat but Crosshair caught me, tapping the stopper lock instead.

“I’d love to stay like this, cy-uh… but I'm ravenous, and if I remember correctly… we have a dinner date,”

I snorted at that. 

A dinner date after everything?…

“This feels a little backwards, doesn't it?”

“Welcome to Strange.”

“Ha. Ha.”

It seems we had recovered from the shadowy place our thoughts had turned. 

I shifted to stand, but first turned into the soft kiss that was waiting for me. I had started to expect this temporary goodbye between our brief moments of private, quiet intimacy. 

He watched me as I dried and left the refresher before I heard the water slosh again as he made to do the same. 

Picking up the duffle from the floor I tugged out the paper bag from the casino. The shift I had purchased was black and slinky, the satin quality of the fabric making it shine like wet ink. I stepped into it, pulling the tight cut over my hips and sliding my arms into the straps. I hooked on the beaded filigree pieces to drape over my bare shoulders and adjusted the cleave cut that made a sharp line between my breasts down to my navel. It wouldn't drag, and the long skirt had enough flow to hide the egregious slit to either hip. Until I walked that was. 

On second thought, maybe this was too much for Estkle. 

I reached into the bag and grabbed the simple blazer and catsuit that I snagged as an alternative, laying it out on the bed. 

As I slid my thumbs under the straps to undress again, Cross rounded the corner, new slacks pulled up and hanging from his hips while the rest of him was still exposed. 

I looked at him and he looked at me. 

“Is that what you're wearing?”

“No… I was about to put this on instead,”

I gestured vaguely at the outfit on the bed and once again made to lower the straps. 

“Don't. I like this one,”

He had made his way over, catching my hand from its task and turning me to get a better look at the plunged neck line. 

“It's gonna draw attention,”

“I'm with you, their eyes won't linger…”

I doubted that, but admired his confidence. He was intimidating… maybe he'd be right. 

“We're still laying low, right?

His fingers traced the gapped fabric between my breasts down to the dip of my navel.

“As low as can be,”

~~~

We integrated into the posher crowd gathered on the busy patio alight with fiery torches, a few heads turning at his tattoo and my faded markings but otherwise no one paid us much mind. I did catch a few brief glances, the start of a head turn as my thighs split the hem of my dress as I walked, but they quickly turned back down to their food.

It was amusing, the slight man commanding such presence. He wasn't even that tall by Ga'hah standards. And yet…

By Be'llahl, they are scared of him aren't they?

I leaned into Crosshair's arm as he guided us to the host podium. The dark gray lapel jacket was soft despite its chunky knit, the leather patch on the elbow making a cool spot against my skin where my arm wrapped about his.  

He cleaned up well, the coat accentuating his slim waist and broad shoulders. I had picked out a thin, ribbed sweater to wear underneath, simulating his comfortable black bodysuit. The loose cut slacks had a crisp crease drawing the eye to the length of his stride as we strutted forward. 

A slim Ga'haiian girl looked us over briefly before taking us up a staircase past massive vases stuffed with fresh flower arrangements in vibrant, saturated tones. She showed us to a table for two on the second floor, snugged into the open bay doors overlooking the busy street below. 

A brief explanation, a bottle of nectar requested, and we were left to our devices. 

Cross subtly angled the window shades, his foot reaching between mine to hook the chair leg, drawing it slightly more into the room to obscured me from outside observers and keep a better eye on my back. 

“Want to see the cold bar?”

“Not yet,”

He clicked the flag device at the table which switched the glowing pattern from red to green. Almost instantly a muscular man brandishing an oversized skewer laden with a sizzling roast appeared at his side. He explained the cut and marinade then asked if we'd like a portion, which Crosshair eagerly accepted. 

A quick slice of a traditional blade and the seared meat fell to the waiting stone plate. 

“Should I wait for you?”

I shook my head, standing.

“Dig in, I'll be back,”

I sashayed across the wide stone floor, past a stories tall glass wall. Droids puttered about behind it, pulling nectar bottles down from the vast floor to ceiling storage racks just feet behind the glass. Buff men and women in leather aprons and chefs coats carried various roasted meats on skewers to the packed tables filling the space. Voices echoed off the dark stone walls, droning out the soft, live music drifting up the stairs that led back to the lobby. 

Finally I reached the massive bar laden with more fresh flowers framing overladen trays of cheeses, smoked fish and various salads. It didn't take long to fill a chilled dish. 

Cross had several cuts of meat laden high on his plate by the time I had found my way back to the table. He looked up at me, a subtle red tinging his cheeks. 

“I forgot to turn the flag off,”

I covered my mouth as I snorted back a giggle. 

~~~

Stacked plates, a case worth of empty bottles and a settled tab found us a little over an hour later. 

“... And that's how Ga’hah stayed out of the war… for the most part, not sure what the point was with the Empire moving in the second it was over,”

“I was there you know, in the field… at the end,”

“Yeah?”

“Our last order… was to kill the Jedi generals that turned on the Republic… I was the only one of us that complied,”

I was eyeing the flush tinging Cross's cheekbones trying to determine if he was actually a lightweight. I knew I was, and glanced back at the empty bottles scattered about the absolute carnage of the evening's feast. He just shrugged trying to hide the odd look creeping up on him. 

“You're serious…” 

“Lot of good it did,”

“What do you mean?”

He swirled the last of the nectar in his glass.

“It just doesn't feel any different, It's not called war anymore but the blaster fire sounds the same…”

“And now it's brother against brother,”

He downed his spirit, emptying the glass and drowning the ghosts in his inner storm. 

“They were cowards for running, nothing can be changed from out there… and now there's no choice for them,”

“You could have still gone with them… I'm not sure how much change we're really doing here,”

…

“Maybe I just stayed cause it was comfortable,”

He was starting to look really down. I took his hand around his cup, sighing,

“It doesn't sound like you've been comfortable at all honestly,”

He didn't answer, instead, checked the bottles for any remaining nectar. So I rambled…

“Hurts the pride though, just… enforcing some status quo, just look at me,”

He obediently met my eyes, though I really meant that figuratively. 

“Uh… look, I stay in my Vah'hadarr's shadow of progressive legacy, I uphold the appearances… but there's reasons we kill Bly’ju’s guards but not Bly'ju, there's consequences for one and not the other, some changes… people like you and I can't make them. Not without martyrdom and there’s better deaths out there than rotting in a jail cell for shooting some asshole,”

“Do you feel bad about the guards?”

“Nah… kark ‘em. Even a life contract can't compel you to act… they knew what they were doing,”

His brow furrowed in confusion, not really making the connection I was getting at.

“Maybe we just…chose the path of least resistance because we're too tired to really get what we want, holding your guard up your whole life will do that to you,”

“What is it you want?”

I felt like that should have sounded accusatory, but when I searched his gaze I found the same desperate questioning in his eyes. Like I might have an answer he was looking for. Chugging the considerable amount left in my glass I blurted,

“Peace… some quiet too, for myself and the few people I give a shyte about,”

“Sounds nice…”

“...Quiet?”

“Having someone to give a shyte about…”

His gaze matched mine, eyes shiney from the liquor. In amazement I tracked the occasional flick of him scanning around us, even drunk he was ever the professional.

“Oh Cross, you'll find your people!...some kindred spirits, plus I'll always be about in my tower for you to visit… or just find a familiar face and cling on, I'm sure there's one or two or three thousand at the GAR,”

I giggled, the absurdity of his reality dawning on my addled mind. 

“That's not funny,”

But his cheeks were tight from trying not to smirk. I found his eyes with mine again, laying my head on my arms, folded on the table. He mimicked my posture,

“You should know the regs don't like me much…”

“They're just jealous… just wait till they find out you have connections to Kahtzi Zho,”

He blinked,

“Wait, Zho? Why does that sound familiar…”

I smirked, raising a brow at him.

“The holocal? In the GRSO relief packages,”

“No… your Kahtzi is the Kahtzi Zho?

“Mm, which month was your favorite?”

“Nelona.”

“Of course you like Nelona.”

“What's wrong with that one?”

“Nothing… I took that one myself,”

He chuckled, closing his eyes a moment,

“So you want some peace, princess? Good luck if you plan on having your girlfriend in tow,”

“Mm… you know, I'd probably hate it,”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah… I need chaos, Crosshair. I need speeders racing through the night and bar fights, and toying with people who could easily kill me in sick, brutal ways, Without it I itch… without it I'm just my Vah'hadarr's… pet,”

The last word was spat with contempt and he started stroking my hair, leaning into the table to reach me. We were quite drunk…

“Peace still includes your father?”

“Family is important, Kleinthu Vah'hadarr nam’patri… there is no me without mine Vah'hadarr, so… all my rights flow through him till I'm married off…unless I abandon my station,”

I dramatically gestured to the red smudges under my eyes,

“It is my duty as a low-born Lady of Sohn,” 

“Well there's a Ga'haiian custom I'm not in love with…”

His brow was pinched in frustration on my behalf, charming me yet again so that a sad smile colored over me,

“It's not… Ga'haiian, not really. It's Sohnese. These marks under my eyes may as well be a for sale sign, but unlike your common slave I’m to be traded for political favors, I have my freedom on Coruscant… for now, but one day I’ll be sold just the same, It’s not so bad, symbolic mostly… and my Vah’hadarr has been good to me, teaching me and letting me have a life…”

Crosshair's eyes had darkened as I spoke, fingers sliding through my hair to cup my chin. I was too inebriated to really read his expressions, Maybe he could relate,

“Besides, I like the work for the most part… It suits me, Perhaps that's why you stayed too, not cause it's the right thing exactly… but because the blaster fire sounds the same… if you left, if you never had to fight on a battlefield again, Too quiet. You'd have to think about it all like… like I would,”

“It all?”

“Mhmm… all of it,”

“Sounds like a lot.”

“Isn't it though?”

“Mm, I think we're drunk, and overstaying our welcome,”

The man was keeping his cool though, trying to mask his slight wobble as he stood up to take my hand. I couldn't help but giggle drunkenly.

He takes himself so seriously…

“You're… kind of funny sometimes, you know that, Crosshair?”

“...funny? I don't think I've ever been called funny before,”

“Deal with it, it… it rounds you out, Mr. Rigid and unyielding,”

“If you say so… up you get ner’burc’ya,”

I leaned on him as we turned, with dread, to the long staircase. Giggling again, I checked that I still had my clutch.

“They must have a lift…”

“I can still handle stairs,”

He was maintaining balance fairly well, even with me hanging on him, and we haphazardly navigated the descent. 

“Where to?”

I jiggled the casino purse, there was still a good chunk of credits to spend. Once we were on the train I could charge my father's account to my heart's content, so splurging on souvenirs seemed in order.

He leaned in, the smell of nectar rolling sweetly from him as he wrapped his arms around me. His weight guided me to lean against a pillar, and he pinned my arms over my head, brushing his lips to mine. He still tasted like the fruity spirit and I drank the flavor of him as he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue over mine before withdrawing.

“I just want to get you back in that bed…”

Maybe saving some cash would be wise…

He angled us out of the restaurant and we swifted back in the direction of the hotel, passing storefronts and groups of chattering people in a hurried stride. 

The fresh air was sobering, though it was getting cold, the smaller of the moons positioned to the West. The wayward winds from the Mehaklei pressure front made Estkle a breezy city, and they ran through the loose cloth of my skirt, making it dance about my legs as we briskly made our way up the street to where the buildings thinned to a view of the plains…

Until Crosshair slowed and stopped, staring into a glimmering display of fancy bottles. 

“What was it… that scent you wore, the night we met? Is it here?”

It was my usual bottle, long gone now somewhere in our travels. The perfume was something my mother had gotten me as a graduation present. Nothing too fancy, I wouldn't have used it, but the flowery scent was complimented by a fiery resin musk underlay. It smelled like a late summer evening. 

“That one,”

I pointed to a square of the display housing a red and gold bottle in various sizes. 

“Stay here,” 

He left me on the sidewalk, disappearing into the store with a staggered gate. 

I mean… I think I know what you're up to…

I shook my head but smiled to myself, turning to lean on the stone storefront. 

My eye was caught by a tiny store at the corner a few paces away. It was barely the size of a closet, with only a service window facing the street, a thin man zoned out behind the glass in front of his rolled wares. 

Cross had the big bag, so I rifled my own stash of credits in my clutch as I approached the dingy little stand. 

“You have Darh?”

“Sure do, plain, flavored or spiced?”

“What flavors do you have?”

“Berry or citrus,”

“Berry then,”

“Good choice,”

The clerk slipped the rolled herbs into a small tube to hand to me, took my credits, and I was at the perfume shop again before Crosshair had finished his purchase. 

He stepped back onto the sidewalk moments later and handed me a small bag. It was heavier than expected and I looked in curiously. 

“You got one of every size?”

I pulled out the tiny travel version to glint in the light from the shop window, lips quirked in amusement. 

“That one's mine,”

Cross lifted it from my fingertips, tilting the small vial to puff against my pulse point before he tucked it into his breast pocket. 

I looked at the small lump under the jacket lapel and felt my face flush with more than alcohol. 

“How you surprise me…”

Shaking myself, I pulled the tube from my clutch. 

“Now for me to surprise you,”

…

“What's this?”

~~~

My pumps hit the floor with a muted thump as I kicked them off and slumped into one of the chairs. The room was dark, the only light coming from the refresher. 

I flipped the hollow tube in my fingers, watching Cross carefully rip into the wiring panel, finding a way to disable the smoke detector without setting off the alarms.

Neat skill.

He had scoffed at the idea of lighting up in the stairwell, which was traditional, but I wasn't gonna complain about the privacy. 

I popped the tube and took out the paper roll and strike, waiting for the go ahead. There was a quick skrtt and Cross nodded that he had figured it out, before he came to sit with me by the window. 

“Have you ever smoked?”

His toothpick habit was suspect, but I wasn't even sure clones were allowed to pick up such things…

“No…”

“So the toothpicks?”

He turned away, hiding a new flush blooming over his cheekbones.  

Okay then,

I got up from my chair and moved to his,knees about his hips to face him.

“I'll help, first time rookie mistake is resisting the inhale,”

I put the end of the Darh stick in my mouth, hitting the strike to create a little flame. There was a crackle as the plasma caught the end of the paper and I drew air like a straw to pull the heat into the herbs, lighting them. A sweet smelling smoke coiled lazily from the fresh ember and I drew another breath, pulling smoke from the herbs, coughing a little. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it's normal… now here, just breath in through your mouth, slow and shallow,”

I pulled deep on the smoking herbs, filled my lungs and leaned into him, grabbing his chin to coax his lips open, exhaling slowly into his mouth. Smoke leaked between our lips, as we shared the hit, his arms wrapping about my waist as I pulled back again. 

He coughed as he exhaled what I gave him, but tried to suppress it, putting on a brave face.

Cute. 

I took another puff, but let him sit with what he had. 

“What's supposed to happen?”

“Give it a minute, it'll absorb into your blood stream and travel to your brain, everything will feel a little slower…”

Clipping the burning end of the roll, I set aside the rest. The first wave was already starting to hit me, the air taking on the thicker quality of water, the illusion of more resistance. More importantly my thoughts slowed.

The ever whirring flow of information halved it's speed and I could peer through my thoughts a little more carefully, examine them longer before they slipped out of sight again. 

Right now I was staring at Crosshair. My position was slouched, even to his face. A small crack in the drawn curtains was letting in a beam of moonlight to cut across his features, highlighting his tattoo. 

I love this tattoo…

My fingertips were reaching out to it and he leaned into my touch, closing his eyes. He was probably floating by now. 

I scooted closer, resting my elbows on his shoulders my one hand still cradled his temple, thumb tracing the thin lines of ink over his brow. I set the other to stroke his head, starting from brow to neck. 

Bristles of new growth had began to come in across his scalp, coarse against my skin. I delighted in the tactile feel of it, bringing both hands up to massage with my nails and fingertips.  

“So you do have hair,”

“I actually have amazing hair… it's just been easier to keep it off,”

“Is that so?”

I scratched a tad more vigorously and he leaned into it. 

“Maker, it's been driving me crazy,”

He giggled,

“Whatever you do, don't stop till it's fully grown back,”

I laughed lightly at his sudden, boyish demeanor, but my fingers were starting to cramp and I eventually had to stop to a sad whine from the intoxicated man. 

I quieted him with kisses, soft, small kisses… to the corner of his mouth, his nose, the cheekbone and brow. Feeling the shapes against the sensitive flesh of my lips, mapping his face, imprinting a memory. As I pressed my lips lightly to his forehead I felt his breath heavy against my neck, breathing in the scent that had been spritzed there,

“You'll come back to Coruscant… won't you, Tahny?”

“No one could keep me away, once whatever this is has blown over I'll be back,”

“...and I can come see you?”

“Of course, Cross, whenever you want…”

He relaxed into me, arms tightening slightly as he sat still, breathing me in.

“So…”

I slowly rocked back, sitting even with him again. 

“...the toothpicks?”

“If I tell you will you scratch my head again?”

We both giggled a little at that,

“Sure,”

…

I waited while he gathered his thoughts through the haze of the Darh root. 

“Back when we were cadets, there was a holofilm, Tech somehow managed to get a hold of it… an old Outer Expansion story about a gunslinger,”

I raised my brow, those old films were hokey, but I couldn't deny I liked them occasionally. 

“This gunslinger kind of became my hero…”

“What was the name of it?”

He flushed, looking down. 

“We didn't know… it was a silent film, the text files had gotten corrupted so the cards between scenes were just blank, I was meaning to ask Tech if he could look for it again…”

He trailed off. 

“So, your hero…?”

“He was the stoic good guy, never missed a shot or took insults, good guys could smoke in those days… but, obviously I couldn't,”

I was starting to put the pieces together and my heart started to warm. 

“I started taking toothpicks from the mess hall, and chewing on them to… look tough like the gunslinger,”

He said the last part fast and looked away, his cheeks turning bright red. 

My heart melted completely. Though I had little reference, I couldn't help but try to imagine a young Crosshair on Kamino. 

Tiny Crosshair with toothpicks. Tiny Crosshair making finger guns at the other clones. Tiny Crosshair acting like an Outer Expansion action star. By Be'llahl, can I survive without a heart?

I couldn't handle this story high, that was for sure, and resisted the urge to start bawling from the adorable imagery that flooded me. To disguise my distress I pulled him to me in a hug that could probably crush bones. 

He leaned against me, yawning. 

“Don't ever tell anyone that…”

“Who would I tell?”

…

“Jar'ath.”

“I absolutely would not tell Jar'ath.”

“Kahtzi.”

…

“Okay, I might tell Kahtzi,”

He groaned into my shoulder but seemed to accept that reality. 

“Scratches?”

“Mhmm, let's move though, you're getting tired and my legs are falling asleep,”

I slid to the floor and he obediently followed as I took his hand, guiding him from the sunken alcove back to the bed at the center of the room. 

I stacked the pillows into a nest and crawled in, fancy dress and all, reaching for my lover staring down at me dreamily through an addled haze. He crawled, more clumsily than usual, over me, resting his head against my chest with a relieved sigh. 

Starting slow I worked my nails in little circles, up and down, careful around the edge of his scar. His breathing eventually became heavy, the drinks and food and smoke catching up to him after an absurdly long day. 

I wasn't fairing much better, my hands folded around him and still, eyes heavy but… watching him sleep, not thinking much of tomorrow.

It felt important to remember him like this. Unguarded, content. There wasn't much time left, it was important to drink him in… like sweet water. 

~~~

BONUS TRACK: This kept playing while I was doing the illustrations.

It's them ✨

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Tag List:

@feral-ferrule @here-comes-the-moose

[punishandenslavesuckers]

Heyoo tears of the kingdom next month so I’ve been replaying botw and re reading my fav botw fic, Interim. Thank you for this story, reading it now is like tracing the well worn and loved groves of an old backyard tree. How did you come up with/where did you draw from canon Draga/Geurdo culture’s understanding and mechanics around magic? The simplicity and perfection of blood, bone, and breath paralleling earth, wind, and water. The sea of lives?? Hell yeah. I hope there’s something tasty for you at the feast of totk.

Hello! Answering all these far too late now that TOTK is here.

I honestly didn't draw inspo from anything specific. I think I've read lots of posts, stories, etc that have elemental ties to magic. Like there was a vampire book called Sunshine by Robin Mckinley where a particular character's main totem/type of magic was worked through sun. Like she draw power from the day itself to do magic. The elemental magic types came from I thiiiiink.

That book was probably the biggest inspiration for the VIBE of the magic, how I wanted it to feel and come across. Highly recommend. It's a formative read for me and if you read it, you'll see its influences in my writing for sure.

Draga's stuff I vaguely took from some of Dune media over the years. The idea that power from the desert and time can make you insane and is very, very dangerous was definitely something I wanted to bring to the front of his story. His power has ties to the demonic and to risk etc and I wanted it to feel like he was just barely in control

Link's magic too, wild magic, is VAAAAAAGUELY tied to the Tamora Peirce books I read back in the day about wild magic, but I genuinely dont remember anything beyond the name. I just knew Link too was afflicted by the same dangers as Draga is -- the connection to past lives and time being a threat to sanity and self. Mostly because Link's internal suffering is not well touched on in most games so I wanted to make the stakes for him clear. He's a little eldritch sometimes.

So the sea of lives is something both he and Draga understand and commiserate about. Zelda bears it too, but because she's part divine, some of the harshness is gentled. Her mind is made to handle it while Link and Draga - wholly human - are not really.

Anyway, hope you enjoy TOTK

[ynscrazylife]

Kate bishop x reader

Taking place during episode 2. Reader is a young surgeon and kate's girlfriend. Kate comes back injured with a clint.

Steady Hands

Summary: The last thing Y/N expects is to open her door to face her girlfriend with an ex-Avenger.

Authors Note: I combined this with another Kate request. I hope you like this!

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/bevongf

“Are you usually this happy after your life gets turned upside down?” Clint Barton’s judgmental and slightly jealous voice floated into Kate’s ears as she trailed behind him, surveying the aisles of the grocery store.

Kate had calmed down enough from her awe that she was with a literal superhero to roll her eyes at him, although he didn’t catch it. “No,” she stressed. “Can you blame me for being a little excited that I’m going to a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house?”

Clint stopped short, and Kate just about caught herself before she walked into him. “What?” He asked over his shoulder, straining his voice to not sound too shocked. He reached out to sift through some bags of pretzels, though does it absentmindedly. They were all bland, anyway.

“What ‘what’? We’re going to a safe house, right?” She asked, shifting from one foot to the other. The familiar sting from her injuries came back and she wished she could be anywhere else but this stuffy, grimy supermarket.

“Why would you assume that?” Clint questioned pointedly, resuming their walk as he spoke.

Kate shrugged. “I dunno, but you were once a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. I figured you’d have it figured out,” she admitted, now realizing just how immature and lame it sounds when she hears herself.

Clint heard it, too, because he scoffed. The minimal reaction dug a pit in her stomach. Great, the hero she admired liked her even less. “If only everything in life was that easy.” His words were vague, but she caught the disappointment and resentment in there.

Kate frowned. Where were they going to go to now? Her mother’s penthouse was out of the options, there’s no way she was gonna go crawling to Jack . . . That only left one place, or, person.

“I know where we can go,” Kate announced, surprising herself with how confident she sounds. A nervous grin slithered onto her face. Yes, she was excited to see this person again, but couldn’t imagine how she’d react to all this.

Y/N sighed as she leaned back against the couch, immediately feeling the relief as her muscles stretched from the tense position they were in. She forced her grip on her notes to lessen before she crumpled the paper, rubbing the tiredness away from her face.

Why didn’t someone tell her that medical school would be so difficult?!

Okay, she relented, Kate did warn her of that. But it was worth it. It had to be. She goes through medical school, qualifies as a doctor, and then can become a surgeon! All she had to do was remember all these procedures and information to pass her up-coming exam.

A knock interrupted her train of thought, and Y/N rose from her chair curiously. A tiny part of her was grateful for this brief distraction, but the smart part of her wondered who the hell was at the door at this hour. Peering through the peephole, Y/N saw the loving face of her girlfriend staring back at her. She made out the shoulders of someone else, but couldn’t quite determine him from this view. Thinking perhaps it was Kate’s soon-to-be step-father, but not knowing why, she pulled the door open.

“Holy Shi—” Y/N just barely caught herself before she cursed, eyes widening at the people in front of her. Indeed it was Kate, but also the man known as Hawkeye. A superhero. An Avenger who Kate had adored all her life.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” Kate greeted, wearing an over-the-top smile. Y/N snapped her eyes to meet her gaze and felt herself become grounded.

“Kate, what’s going on?” Y/N asked, now beginning to wrap her mind around this. Her girlfriend had come to her apartment late at night, with an Avenger, and appeared to be cut up and bruised — she had definitely gotten herself into some sort of trouble.

“Nothing I can’t handle! I was just wondering if my new friend Clint and I could crash here for a couple nights? Please? We’re kinda on some important superhero business,” Kate pleaded, ignoring the elbow Clint gave her.

Y/N looked between the two archers, gobsmacked. Clint offered her a small, forced smile which did nothing to lessen her confusion. Nonetheless, she forced that aside. She trusted Kate and Kate needed her.

“As long as you help me study for my test tomorrow,” Y/N conceded, letting herself share the brunette’s ever-contagious grin. Kate practically jumped in excitement, bouncing on her feet as Y/N stepped aside to let them in.

“There is one thing though,” Kate added. After locking the door, Y/N spun around on her heels suspiciously. “This guy is kinda injured. He insisted he was fine, but since you’re here, I figured he should be checked by an actual doctor.”

Y/N looked at Clint and sighed, letting the back of her head lightly hit the door. “I’m a med student, studying to be a surgeon not a—” she began to reiterate, but was cut off.

“Yeah, well, it’s like the same thing,” Kate insisted, shrugging her shoulders.

“It’s really not,” Y/N tried to convince her.

“Let’s just — just make sure I’m not dying, okay?” Clint reasoned, trying to keep them from going any further as he saw Kate begin to open her mouth. He was far too exhausted to deal with stubborn teenagers making no sense.

Y/N relented at that and them both sit down on the couch while she went to grab her makeshift first aid kit. Kate sighed as she spotted all of her girlfriend’s messy notes, instinctively going to organize them. Y/N was usually very organized, but those skills failed her in times of stress. Kate knew her well enough to know that if any of these notes got lost or damaged, that would only send Y/N spiraling into tears and yells.

Clint observed his new ally curiously, a little surprised to see her displaying an act of such genuine kindness. He smiled to himself, deciding that maybe she wasn’t so bad for a teen that was definitely in way over her head.

When Y/N returned, she quickly got herself situated. Opening up the first aid kit, she asked Clint the standard questions or if he was in any pain and how much. He told her that he had bruises and cuts all over, but the main pain was mostly in his left arm. Y/N gave him bandaids and disinfected the cuts on his arms. Since that didn’t take much time, she was able to quickly move onto the main concern. Y/N knew enough to tell that no bone was broken or anything, but made him a makeshift sling for good measure.

Kate wore a fond smile as she watched her girlfriend work. The way she tucked her chin and furrowed her eyebrows in deep concentration made Kate swoon. She would never get tired of watching her do what she does best. Her hands were rock solid as she worked, and Kate marveled at that. If she was dealing with a potential broken bone and risked injuring her patient with one wrong move, she’d be a trembling mess. That was probably the thing that fascinated Kate the most about Y/N — how steady she was. In high school Y/N had sewn, and Kate always wondered how her stitches came so perfectly, beautifully. No wonder she’d want to become a surgeon.

“All set. I have a guest room you can stay in and Kate’ll stay in my room.”

Y/N’s words caused Kate to blink, looking up to see Clint thanking her and rising from his seat. He bid them a quiet goodbye before retreating into the hallway, in search of the room.

Once they heard the door close, Kate smiled, about to go to her girlfriend’s comfy bed. To her surprise, Y/N went in the opposite direction. She nestled herself further into the couch, reaching over to grab her notes. Quicker than a snap, she was back in the zone, mumbling to herself as she tried to stick something in her memory, glancing to and fro across the notes.

Pouting, the brunette sat back down and leaned forward, tugging at the notes. “Hey, what are you doing?” She asked.

Y/N promptly pulled her notes back, eyes never ceasing to dart around the inked words. “I have an exam tomorrow. I need to study,” she said, in a monotone and rehearsed voice.

Looking around the room, Kate sighed. “How long have you been studying for?” She asked.

Y/N gave a small shrug. “Since I after I finished my takeout,” she murmured.

Kate eyed the takeout bag on the counter and reached it in quick strides. Peeling it open, she noticed that barely half of it had been eaten. Frowning, Kate made a decision. She walked right back to her girlfriend and easily slipped the notes from her loose grip, beginning to organize them and put them away.

“Hey!” Y/N protested, immediately leaping forward. “What are you doing? I need to study!”

Kate spared her a quick glance and caught, out of the corner of her eyes, her hands shaking like a frail leaf. Oh, god. That was never a good sign. She knew Y/N well enough by now.

Quickly dropping the notes, she encased Y/N’s hands in her own, meeting her gaze. “Hey, hey, take a deep breath, okay? You need to rest,” she said, her tone low and gentle but also firm.

Y/N just shook her head and bounced her leg, dissolving into her nerves. “No, no. I’ll-I’ll fail without the notes. Please,” she begged, lightly struggling against Kate’s grip. Tears quickly brimmed at her eyes, finally having broken out against the dam she had kept them behind.

Kate nearly started crying herself when she realized how bad it had gotten. Standing up close, she could see the bags under her girlfriend’s eyes. When was the last time she gotten a good night’s sleep?

“Oh, babe,” she said, frowning sadly. “You’re going to do great on the exam. You need to sleep, though. What’s all the point of studying if you fall asleep in the middle of it?” She attempted to reason, keeping her grip steady.

After a moment or two, Y/N lowered her head tiredly and sighed. Slowly, she began to relax. Her breaths grew deeper and her leg stopped bouncing. Yet, her hands still trembled.

“I know, but if I don’t get a good grade—” she trailed off, unable to finish her sentence in fear of jinxing it. She leaned forward, allowing her forehead to rest on Kate’s shoulder. In turn, Kate pulled one hand away, patting Y/N’s back.

“C’mon, let’s go sleep,” Kate said. At Y/N’s nod, she maneuvered them so her arm was wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders, one hand still holding hers. She led them to her girlfriend’s room, turning on the light as Y/N practically collapsed on her bed, snuggling under the blankets.

Kate smiled, rummaging through Y/N’s drawers for pajamas. She tossed a tee-shirt and shorts at Y/N, laughing when Y/N promptly whined as she dragged it off of her face, and grabbed one of Y/N’s oversized shirts for herself. The two changed in silence, both opting to disregard their daytime clothes on the floor.

Once done, Kate jumped onto the bed, making it bounce. She curled up beside her girlfriend, wrapping her arms around her waist and nestling her head into Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N let out a content sigh, leaning back into Kate.

Soon, the only sounds that filled the room were their breathing evening out. Neither of them had even bothered to turn off the light before they fell into a peaceful, heavenly slumber.

Kate’s last thought before she slipped into sleep’s clutches were how Y/N’s hands had finally stopped shaking in her hold.

The next morning, Kate awoke bright and early. A goofy smile rested on her lips, not at all bothered by the fact that sometime in the night, Y/N had shifted so her hair was in Kate’s face. At some point, Y/N had shifted to lie on her stomach, nearly pulling Kate on top of her.

Mindful so as to not disturb her sleep, Kate carefully disentangled herself from Y/N. She managed to stand up and looked down at her girlfriend’s still sleeping form with a smile. She had slept! She had rested! Her mission was a success.

Checking the time, Kate was relieved to see that it was still early in the morning. Y/N wasn’t needed at her exam until the late afternoon, so that gave Kate plenty of time to enact the plan she had whipped up when she first saw her girlfriend studying the previous night. She changed into an outfit of Y/N’s (that she had actually stolen from Kate) and got herself ready for the morning.

After packing a small bag, she scribbled two notes out, both saying that she had to run out for an errand but would be back soon. She stuck one on the fridge in case Clint woke up first and one on Y/N’s beside table.

Pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head, Kate left the apartment, careful not to make noise.

Kate couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she trudged up the stairs, bags hanging off her arms. She didn’t even mind that Y/N lived on the third floor! The moment she had purchased all her goodies using a secret credit card her mother hadn’t cancelled yet, she had dreamed of Y/N’s reaction. She almost wish she had a camera with her to capture it.

It was a couple hours later. She had spent the morning going from shop to shop, buying Y/N all the fancy and somewhat expensive things that she knew she deserved. From her favorite chocolate and candy to fancy perfume and a big cuddly teddy bear, Kate had definitely spoiled Y/N. Would it do a number on her credit card and on her mother’s reaction? Most definitely, but she didn’t have it in her to care.

With all the things she was carrying, she was forced to kick the door to get somebody’s attention. Clint answered, in his hands a cup of coffee. He sent her a confused look, clearly wondering what she hell she had bought, but didn’t say anything about it. When he stepped aside, Kate entered. She had the perfect view of her girlfriend, sitting cross-legged on the couch, papers and books surrounding her.

The brunette sighed, but she wasn’t surprised. At least this time, the bags under her eyes were gone and she looked more awake now.

“Y/N/N!” Kate said in a sing-song voice. She missed how Clint rubbed at his head and took a long sip from his coffee. It hadn’t even been a full day and she already exhausted him.

Y/N’s hands snapped up, eyebrows furrowing when she saw her girlfriend. “What’s all that?” She asked, notes forgotten.

“It’s for you!” Kate answered, dumping them on the couch.

Curiously and a little suspiciously, Y/N moved forward to peer inside. Gasping, she said, “You did not—“

“I did,” Kate said, sitting next to the bags. She said it in such a way that someone could practically hear the grin in her words.

“Oh my god, you are too much. Thank you!” Y/N said, as she dived into the chocolates, practically ripping it open.

Kate watched her happily, filled with her own glee at seeing Y/N so relaxed and excited. “Anything for you,” she said, and she meant it.

Her hands didn’t shake once throughout the entire day, even when she sat down to begin the exam. Kate’s presence had been the trick to calming her down and getting her through this. 

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[i-is-a-fan-weeb]

first off:Happy Birthday Percy!! And second:thank you to @percydarling for giving me the inspo for my first fic here! So here we go(also i set this in Percy's fourth year so yea) also TW in the tags

Penny walked into the empty Great Hall and spotted Percy sitting at the end of what is normally the Slytherin table,reading on of his many books on mythology.

"Hi Percy! What mythology sre you reading today?" Penny plumped down next to Percy

"Chinese." Percy simply replied,not looking up.

Percy has always been into mythology,ever since his Uncle Gideon brought a book on Greek myths when he was 4 and Percy read it while Gideon,Fabion and Molly talked downstairs. After that,the onky thing Percy wanted for his birthday and Christmas was a book on Greek mythology,before he branched out to other mythologies and muggle religions when he was 10. Then he asked for books on any myths and religion(Arthur got him an actual Bible on his 11th).

This year,Penny,Oliver and Marcus were planning to do more than that.

"Ooo,Chinese. You're so lucky your parents let you read mythology and explore other religions at home." Penny always complained about not being able to read mythology at home because her parent were over-religious muggles and it took her mother everything to not have her father disown her for being a witch. Penny also wasn't allowed to visit or write any of her friends over breaks either.

Out of nowhere,Oliver and Marcus sat down across from Percy and Penny.

"Hey Perce." Oliver took one hand away from Percy's boom and kissed the knuckles. Then he took the book away from Percy.

"Hey!" Percy cried out,reaching for his book,but Oliver,whose much faster,managed to keep it away.

"Na-ahhh. You're not getting this back until we're done." Oliver said,closing the book shut(but not before taking Percy's bookmark and putting it in Percy's place in the book)

"Done with what?" Percy asked,narrowing his eyes at his friends(and boyfriend)

"We have sonething to ask you." Marcus said

"If it's about me being tiebraker for whatever Quidditch match is coming up,the answer will always be no." Percy said,slowly sitting back down.

"What? No. The next Quidditch match is in November." Oliver said increduosly

"We wanted to ask you if you're ok with surprises." Penny tiredly said,already done with Oliver.

"Huh?" Percy asked,confused by this.

"Are you ok with surprises?" Marcus questioned,bored.

"Um,yeah I guess. I live with Fred and George so I got used to surprises pretty early on." Percy suspiciously said.

"Cool." Marcus said,before getting up and leaving,Oliver and Penny following behind.

Percy looked after them confused,before leaving himself.

A week passes,and Oliver comes into his and Percy's dorm,with two random people.

"Hello Penny,Marcus." Percy greeted his friends who are under the influence of Polyjuice.

"Come on." the boy on the right-who is Marcus-said inpatiently.

"Wha-"Percy didn't even get to finish his sentence before the girl on the left-who is Penny-grabbed his arm and pulled him downstairs,followed by Marcus and Oliver.

"Where are we going?" Percy asked as he got dragged by Penny

"You'll see." Oliver whispered in ear teasingly,kissing his cheek.

"Can you save all that romantic sh!t for when you are alone?" Marcus asked.

"Oh shut up."Oliver said said

"All of you shut up!" Penny whisper-shouted,and ponted to Filch and Mrs.Norris up ahead of them.

"The h3ll are we doing?!" Percy whisper-shouted back.

"Shhhh!!" Penny shushed him,and threw out what Percy presumed to be a dungbomb at Filch and his cat.

The dungbomb exploded and Filch and the cat ran away,Filch yelling about who knows what,Mrs.Norris yowling.

"Ok,coast is clear." Penny gestured,and she,Percy(still being dragged by Penny),Oliver and Marcus went in the direction Filch was previously(covering their noses) and out the grand doors.

"Where are we going?" Percy choked out,struggling to get his inhalor out of his pocket*

"I said you'll see." Oliver offhandedly replied

The four of them were walking out towards...Hogsmead?

"Why are we going towards Hogsmead? It's not even close to December!" Percy asked Penny,who didn't give him an answer.

Penny stopped outside of the Three Broomsticks,the Polyjuice finally worn off.

Penny dragged them inside(but not after Marcus took another small dose of Polyjuice).

"Hello,Madame Rosemerta!" Penny gleefully greeted

"Hello,youngsters. Your room is ready,and so are your guests." Madame Rosemerta said,vaguely gestering upstairs,before retreatingto the back room.

"What does she mean by that?" Percy asked,fed up with them keeping these secrets. No one gave him an answer,instead they went upstairs and went all the way down the hall to the very last room.

Marcus went up,the Polyjuice now officially worn off,and knocked some sort of special code.

A little boy with light brown hair and big brown eyes opened the door.

"Hey! We've been waiting!" Cedric Diggory held the door open,and Percy saw birthday decorations,a cake on the table in the middle and a bunch of presents in a corner.

"W-what?" Percy asked quietly.

Penny,Marcus,and Oliver went up and joined Cedric and Adrien Pucey around the table,and they alk started singing "Happy Birthday".

Percy just stood there amazed and confused.

"But-but it's not my birthday?" Percy dazedly said

"We know its not you birthday,which is why we did this!" Adrien said

"We wanted to do something for you because we can't celebrate with you." Cedric said excitedly

"So,you all snuck out of the castle and risked getting expelled,for 𝘮𝘦?" Percy asked

"You act as if we haven't done it before." Marcus snorted

"Yeah,but that's different. Penny and I know which rules to break and how to break them. This is breaking who know how many rules,and Cedric is only a First year,he can't get expelled already." Percy protested.

"Just sit your cute a$$ down and eat some cake." Oliver grabbed Percy by the wrist and sat him down around the table.

"Madame Rosemerta said she'll cover us,as long as we pay for the Butterbeer." Cedric said

"What about this room?" Percy asked

"Madame Rosemerta said we could use it anytine we wanted,no charge unless we damage something." Penny said

"So you and lover boy over here can do what you want behind closed doors." Marcus added

"We have a dorn for that." Oliver countered

"Ew!" Adrien and Cedric exclaimed at the same time

"This is a private room Percy,no one except us and whoever we want to invite can come in." Penny quickly explained

"So,this is some sort of late birthday treat-for me?" Percy asksd quietly

"Yes for you." Oliver said,kissing his boyfriends cheeks

"Can you not do that while I'm here?" Adrien asked,while Cedric stuck out his toungue in disgust.Oliver rolled his eyes.

All of them had a good time eating cake and drinking Butterbeer.

"Here." Oliver handed a gift to Percy.

"What is it?" Percy asked after opening thebpresent which turned out to be a sort of old book.

"It's a Qu'ran. It's another muggle religion book." Oliver explained. Percy's pale,icy blue orbs widened in excitement,almost childlike.

"Here! Here's mine!" Pennt excitedly gave Percy another book-shaped present. Percy opened it,and it turned out to be a empty notebook,with a dark purple cover.

"I put a charm on it,so we can all communicate without having to tire our owls! And I can talk to you all over breaks!" Penny was practically jumping on the tips of her toes in excitement

"Perfect!" Percy exclaimed,and looked up to see everyone pulled out colorful notebooks;Marcus had a dark red,Oliver's was bright green,Penny's was a cheerful yellow,Adrien's was a deep pink and Cedric's was a dark blue.

Percy opened up the rest of the presents-Marcus got him two books,one on how to get away with mûrd3r and the other on how to hide a body.Cedric got him a book on how to speak Latin,a book on how to speek Greek and a book on Russian folklore. Adrien had gotten him a book on Italian myths and superstitions.

"Thank you. Thank you guys so much."

"Don't mention it." Marcus wrapped his arm around Percy,giving the ginger a small grin.

"No,seriously don't mention this to anyone. We can't let the whole castle know that us Slytherins are hanging out with the all of you." Adrien said in a serious yet still sad tone.

"And Fred and George would go the extra 10 miles to make Percy's life even more miserable than the already do." Oliver said grimly

"Enough of this sadness! It's Percy's late birthday and we are going to celebrate it happily!" Penny stomped.

Everyone murmered their agreements and went back to celebrating Percy.

They stayed for another hour before they decided to leave.

As Cedric and Adrien downstairs,Oliver,Percy,Penny and Marcus stayed behind.

"Soo,you wanna do a slumber party?" Marcus asked

"Ok!" Percy exclaimed giddily.

"Who's turn is it?" Penny asked.

"I think it our turn." Oliver gestured to him and Percy

"Ok." Marcus said simply and went downstairs,Penny following him. Leaving Percy and Oliver alone.

"We should-" Percy was cut off by Oliver smashing his lips onto Percys. Percy was at first in shock,but quckly melted into the kiss. The two boys stayed like that for what felt like forever before Oliver slowly pulles away,not really wanting to let go.

"Happy birthday,Percy." Oliver said,putting his face into the taller boys chest.

"Thank you." Percy murmered into the Keepers soft,brown hair.

"Ahem." Oliver and Percy quickly jumped away from each other at the sudden sound,but relaxed when it was only Madame Rosemerta leaning against the doorframe.

"I know you two have hormones and stuff,but please not in my private rooms." She said

Both boys muttered their apologies and quickly walked out

"You forgot your presents!" Madame Rosemerta called out. Oliver quickly ran back up the stairs and ran back down with Percy's gifts.

"Thank you for letting us use this room!" Percy called up to Madame Rosemerta

"Of course! I know what it's like having to hide a relationship!" Rosemerta called down from inside the room.

Percy and Okiver walked the rest of the way back down the stairs and met Penny and Marcus outside.

"What did you think,Perce?" Penny asked,now her and Marcus back to their Polyjuice forms.

"It was great. Honestly,thank you." Percy said gratefully.

"No problem. We know ever since Fred and George took the spotlight,your birthday has been forgotten about." Marcus said grimly.

"What did I say about sadness today!" Penny stomped her foot angrily in the ground.

The four walked back to the castle in a comfortabke silence,snuck back in with no problems and manage to get into Gryffindor tower with out a hitch.

"Here." Percy handed Penny and Marcus some spare pajamas that they all kept in their dorms for whenevr they have sleepovers.

After Penny and Marcus changed and brought out the blow-up matresses that they also keep in their dorms,they all stayed up late and talked and ate some junk food and got drunk off of Firewhisky and Brandy that their House Elf friend Dottie had brought. They stayed up and laughed and had a great time. They all eventually fell asleep at different times(Marcus being the lightweight he is fell asleep first).

Percy will never forget that day.

*Ok so i headcannon Percy to have allergic asthma(if u dont know what that is look it up,i aint google) and that he has like a crap ton of allergies bc who else doesnt like torturing their comfort character? Also before anyone asks,i do have a headcannon that a student that was way before Molly and Arthurs time,much less Percys,also had asthma but couldnt bring her inhalor bc it was muggle technology,so she petitioned for muggle health devices be allowed into hogwarts,and evetually they were allowed but only for health purposes. Im not telling you who that student is tho hehe.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY WEASLEY! And once again thanks to @percydarling for giving me this suggestion!

[tarantulas4davey]

Youtuber!Ralbert Au

originally done by the lovely @we-are-inevitable you can find the original concept here

part two to this series can be found here

and my valentine’s hcs can be found here

ok so let’s set up the basics first

albert is a faceless gaming youtuber known for his voice (thing corpse husband but instead of how deep it is it’s cause of his distinct accent)

race is a vlogger/lifestyle youtuber who makes chaotic content that shows off his bubbly personality p e r f e c t l y

they also happen to be roommates (and boyfriends, but that’s not public just yet)

at first, their fan bases were pretty separate, as their content didn’t really mix

until one day race posts a video of him trying on outfits picked by his subscribers through twitter (video inspo by phil lester here)

and he brings in his vague, never-shown-on-camera roommate that he mentions occasionally in vlogs to help him

enter, albert dasilva (aka chaotic red on twitch/youtube)

now albert’s voice is distinct, especially to his fans considering it’s the only thing about him that’s consistently in videos

so IMMEDIATELY the comments are full of “holy shit is chaotic red race’s mysterious roommate omg-“

the whole video is full of playful banter and fond looks from race to behind the camera, and waY MORE LAUGHTER FROM RED THAN ANY OF HIS SUBS ARE USED TO

it’s basically a goldmine for albert’s fans cause it’s the first time he’s out of his usual element of video games

and about 2 days after the video drops, albert tags race on his public twitter saying their going live on twitch to play among us with their friends

(friends meaning all of the other newsies, who in this au are also youtubers)

THIS TURNS OUT TO BE ANOTHER ABSOLUTE GOLDMINE FOR THE FANS

apparently, the thing about al’s laughter in race’s video wasn’t “red being out of his element,” it was the fact race was there making him laugh

cause this stream is the happiest they’ve EVER heard red be (albert usually plays horror games and among us, there’s just a lot of yelling and swearing and a bit of banter in usual gameplays)

he’s joking with everyone more than normal, you can practically HEAR him smiling, and race is making him genuinely laugh every couple minutes with his stupid one liners and general confusion at “how to video game”

albert is really lucky his alias comes from the face race nicknamed him “red” in middle school, cause race manages not to accidentally call him by his real name at any point during the stream

it’s actually al who makes a mistake

now it’s not an “i accidentally revealed my secret identity mistake live on stream” mistake-

no, it’s almost w o r s e

he calls race babe, live on stream to thousands of people, more than once

twitter absolutely looses its shit, as expected

race may or may not have sat on their living room floor laughing his ass off at what he can see of albert’s distressed expression as he lays face down on their couch

yeah let’s just say the next week he’s in race’s vlog again (kinda? like his voice is in it but he’s still not ready for his face to be all over everywhere just yet)

now albert’s fans have a vague description of him, the basics of sorts, and the voice to guess his general region of origin

they know he’s stockier and muscly, got red hair and hazel eyes, covered in freckles (he may or may not get compared to a weasley or two on twitter more consistently then he cares to admit)

but racer’s fans know A LOT about him, he’s a lifestyle vlogger ffs, it’s his j o b to share his life

so long story short there’s a segment in race’s vlog where they’re just like “yeah we’re dating and have been since junior year of highschool it be like that lmao”

and the rest of the vlog is just them doing domestic shit? like albert’s face is off camera but for the first time you can s e e him on camera

they bake cookies at one point and you can see his trademark necklace race got him for graduation when he was 18, his troye sivan concert tee that he’s cut the sleeves off of, the freckles all over and the fact he wears stacks of bracelets on both wrists and his hands are covered in rings

you can see the scar on his shoulder from when he jumped the fence sneaking out to hang with race freshman year, and the semicolon tattoo on the side of his right hand

you can see his personality, not just hear it, and believe me he’s got SO MUCH OF IT

he’s funny and witty and he teases race like nobody else does and his fans can finally see the way he leans back and laughs with his whole body when race does something stupid

all of their fans are slowly combining, cause race shows up on the chaotic red gaming channel more often from dramatically popular request (and the fact albert loves making fun of him for having no idea what he’s doing

and albert is in almost all of race’s vlogs at least once, because he’s a massive part of race’s life and he’s finally allowed to share that piece that was missing

the amount of fan content made for the two of them is ASTRONOMICAL (think jenna marbles and julien solomita levels of fan content, it’s two massive fanbases combining and theyre so hyped up)

they’re just happy vibing together on youtube once they finally start posting together, and absolutely nobody’s complaining about it

and if they have to do a little extra editing cause of kisses on camera or impromptu slow dances in the kitchen or race accidentally saying albie, then it’s worth the extra work for how happy everyone is

lmk if i should do more of this cause i love this au more than anything

also seriously go follow jac their blog is one of my favorites and everything they write is pure gold

fín :)

[amphtaminedreams]

Sitting Front Row at...(On a Budget Obvs): Lookbook no.15

Hey to anyone reading!

And welcome to my fave lookbook I’ve done in a longggg ass time! Yes, that’s partially because it involved making collages and doing the low effort work of scouring Vogue Runway for “research purposes”, but I promise, that statement wasn’t made out of COMPLETE laziness-I am super happy with it too. It’s been a good use of pre-part-lockdown-lift time in the interim between that brief period of Christmas celebrations and eateries finally fucking opening again because let’s be honest, I always knew I was gonna get distracted by oat milk vanilla lattes and veggie all day breakfasts once I could actually sit down with them at my fave local cafe. You could say I was very much operating on a self-imposed deadline.

The “what I would wear to sit front row at...[insert designer here]” TikTok/Instagram reel trend was something I wanted to get on board with ever since I first saw one and whilst the option of doing my own live action take-I really cannot bear the thought of having to edit footage of myself awkwardly attempting to sit nonchalantly in front of a camera for hours on end-was off the cards considering my complete lack of screen presence, I decided a Tumblr text post would work just as well, and if not even better in a way. Given the absence of the time limitations you face when you’re making a reel or a TikTok I thought it’d be cool to present the looks as part of a mini moodboard for each designer which adds a bit of context to each look even if you aren’t familiar with their past collections and establishes the general vibe of the brand I’m attempting to replicate. Not to sound snotty or as if I am the font of all knowledge on anything high fashion related but even with my amateur knowledge I noticed that as the video trend took off and was adopted by big name influencers, it became less about the average person putting their own personal spin on the aesthetic of the labels we can’t ordinarily afford and more about them building outfits that only vaguely resemble the general public perception of the brand around the real corresponding (and often gifted and thus inaccessible to someone who doesn’t makes thousands for a sponsored post) pieces they own SO I thought I’d take the trend back to its roots and get a bit resourceful. All that being said, in no particular order, here are the outfits I would wear to sit front row at Gucci, Vera Wang, Miu-Miu, Marc Jacobs, Dolce & Gabbana, Brock Collection, Alexander McQueen, Etro, Burberry aaaand Saint Laurent based on their past collections and guess what? They didn’t cost a shit tonne of money :-)

-disclaimer: will include an asterisk before any new purchases if from a high street store though to be honest, I don’t think there are any, we shall see! I do include where I got old purchases from in case anyone wants to search anything on Depop/Ebay-

1. Saint Laurent (formerly Yves Saint Laurent)

-blazer from identityparty on Depop, pleather trousers from Zara, jewellery from Dolls Kill-

I know technically abbreviating Saint Laurent to YSL doesn’t really make much sense anymore given the brand’s name change in 2012, but I’ll always think of it as that in the same way I’ll always associate it with the slightly dishevelled yet simultaneously glitzy rock n’ roll aesthetic. The thing is, whilst YSL hasn’t done anything wildly out of the box for a long time, it’s rare they put a look on the runway that I wouldn’t wear; they never end up being a fashion week standout but the Parisienne take on grunge we’ve seen Anthony Vaccarello establish as his go-to will always have a place in my heart. 

2. Alexander McQueen

-embroidered leather jacket from Ebay (originally Topshop), harness from Amazon, dress from ASOS, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

Alexander McQueen is a brand that is pretty much universally liked, from the historically extravagant and groundbreaking shows the man himself put together to Sarah Burton’s more toned down but still beautiful collections. Obviously I didn’t attempt to do justice to the former, so I tried my hand at putting together a look inspired by Sarah’s blend of delicate femininity and nomadic edge, and it went...okay? Like it’s definitely not my favourite of all the looks because it does give off slightly cheap copycat vibes buuut outside of the context of this lookbook it’s cute.

3. Brock Collection

-boater hat from Ebay, midi skirt from morganogle on Depop, corset top from ownmode_, heels from amybeckett1, bag from Primark-

Brock isn’t as well known a brand as most of the others in this list but I adore everything Laura Vassar Brock does and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to try and channel the vision of one of the OG pioneers of the cottagecore vibe through my own wardrobe. I mean fr, this woman’s work as a steady provider of meadow photoshoot worthy dresses and corsets and skirts is v slept on and I will not stand for it. I will sit in front of a camera and then write a paragraph in my blog post begging anybody who reads to give LVB (an abbreviation I acknowledge is unlikely to catch on because Lisa Vanderpump anybody?) some form of acknowledgement for her services to period romance novel inspired moodboards everywhere.

4. Marc Jacobs

-coat from House of Sunny, white shirt from Retro World Camden, co-ord from Sugar Thrillz, bag from Poppy Lissiman-

If there’s one thing Marc Jacobs always does, it’s COMMITS. TO. HIS. THEME. I just KNOW he has a secret Pinterest with separate boards for every fashion era of the 20th century and he is putting those boards to good use providing us with collections that are as immersive as they are eclectic year in year out. 

5. Miu Miu

-beret from H&M, hair clips from H&M, jewellery from Primark, coat from mollyyemmaa on Depop, shirt from YesStyle, sweater vest from YesStyle, skirt from Depop, diamanté belt from Brandy Melville, shoes from Koi Vegan Footwear-

We all like to talk about Bratz dolls and Monster High dolls and Barbies as fashion inspo but can we all focus on Cabbage Patch dolls for two secs so as to acknowledge the fact that a Miu Miu collection is basically all their fits grown up? And made boujie as fuck? If I want my fix of Wes Anderson meets Scream Queens (what a combo) inspired outfits, if I want prissy and girlish but also glam, if I want to look like a bratty rich girl whose one redeeming quality is her eye for vintage clothes, I know where to look and that is the Miu Miu section of Vogue Runway. 

6. Vera Wang

-blazer as in no.1, velvet bralet from catdegaris on Depop, harness from Amazon, skirt from Ebay, knee high socks from Ebay, lace up boots from Ebay-

Vera Wang’s RTW aesthetic, a blend of the ethereal, ultra-feminine bridal designs she’s known for and British style punk rock influences, is something I feel has only become firmly established in recent years but it is everything I ever wanted and more. I always find myself trying to balance the part of me that loves everything girly and delicate and pretty and the part of me that would love to be in a biker gang and Vera’s collections are always an inspirational reminder of just how well it can be done.

7. Burberry

-coat from charity shop, suit from emmafisher3 on Depop, top from simranindia, shirt underneath from Zara, jewellery from ASOS-

Now I’m not gonna lie, I’m not the biggest fan of Burberry but there have been a few looks over the past few years I’ve really liked and as someone who owns numerous trench coats, high necks and way too much plaid, I thought it’d be an easy one to replicate. Plus, if you can count on Riccardo Tisci for nothing else you at least can rely on him giving you some layering inspo which is very much needed in a country where it literally just snowed in April and where my plans for today have just been cancelled because the iPhone weather app did a Karen Smith and didn’t predict rain for today right up until it started raining so thanks for that one British meteorologists. Your incompetence strikes again.

8. Etro

-corset from Urban Outfitters, vinyl trench coat from Topshop, boots from Ebay, black slip dress from kaoanaoleinik on Depop, fur trim afghan coat from louisemarcella-

Like with Brock Collection, Etro isn’t a hugely well known brand, but it is always one of my favourites-to add a spanner into the works of any attempts to cultivate a firm sense of personal style, I live for the ornate Bohemian look that Etro does so well just as much as I love both grungy and girly pieces, and so I really wanted to include a brand whose collections go down that route. It was a toss-up between this and Zimmerman, the flirtier, free spirit counterpart to the dark romance of Veronica Etro’s designs; her vision really shines through the most when it comes to the brand’s winter collections, imo, and given that I live in a country where winter or some weather state resembling it does seem to take up 70% of the year, I did decide on channelling her work rather than that of the equally talented Nicky and Simone Zimmermann this time round.

9. Dolce & Gabbana

-flower crown from ASOS, tiara from Amazon, earrings from YesStyle, dress from alicealderdice1 on Depop, opera gloves from Ebay, boots from Koi Vegan Footwear-

D&G is a brand I felt really conflicted about doing-I don’t include their current collections in my fashion week reviews based on the actions of designers Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce over the last few years because I don’t want to mitigate the collective effort of fashion critics to push them towards irrelevancy. Though people like to claim the brand has turned a corner since Lucio Di Rosa was brought on board as the manager of celebrity and VIP relations last year (they are as prolific a force on red carpet fashion as ever), we haven’t seen any real meaningful apologies or reparations made by Dolce and Gabbana themselves which once again leaves us in the all too familiar quandary of whether or not we can separate the art from the artist especially when it is far too much of a simplification to only credit the two men for their work given there’s a whole design team behind them. There are a LOT of shitty people working in fashion, the whole industry is a bit of a cesspit if we’re honest, but I don’t think that should stop us from at least being able to appreciate old collections if we make sure we aren’t engaging in any kind of promotion of current works whilst doing so. D&G are a brand of high highs and low lows, with looks that range from hideously ugly to showstoppingly beautiful in a single show-when the looks are good, they are GOOD-and their presence in the fashion world is most definitely felt whether we want it to be or not. It would just be shit to refuse to recognise the existence of some real iconic runway moments, the practical work that went into the ornate detail and opulence that helped cement D&Gs place in sartorial history, the styling that’s made goddesses and fairytale queens out of modern day women as they’ve glided down catwalks, the far more extravagant and, let’s be real, sexier version of our world D&G shows have transported us to in the past. Will I talk about D&G ever again? No, and if you Google the scandals their brand has faced over the past few years, there are more than enough reasons why, but just this once I did want to pay homage to some of the collections, the snippets of which I saw on my Tumblr dashboard back when I was about 13, that first got me into fashion.

10. Gucci

-fur coat from Topshop, clips from Zaful, glasses from Ebay, dress from gracewright246 on Depop, shirt from Boohoo, blazer from charity shop-

Now last but, if you ever read any of my fashion week reviews (the likelihood of someone actually having read one of them and reading this is incredibly, incredibly slim lol, I wouldn’t read me either) you’ll know, definitely not least, is Gucci because Alessandro Michele comes through every!! single!! time!!

The man is truly the king of quirky throwback maximalism and it hurts my heart that a lot of people seem to think of it only as a brand associated with ostentatious displays of wealth. Year after year since Michele was made creative director he has released purposeful, fully-fleshed out collections which unravel themselves to us on the runway like time capsules containing the belongings of the rich and whimsical and yes that can sometimes result in outfits which are *ahem* a bit mismatched but it doesn’t matter because through fashion he manages to take us to a vivid version of the past where people could dress as freely and lavishly as they wanted to, into the wardrobe of a person unaffected by the side-eyeing of others. You get the impression he doesn’t design so much as plays around with some kind of enchanted dress up box and takes inspiration from there and to give that impression is only a credit to his talent-to make outfits so kooky and extravagant look like they were meant to be takes a boldness and genuine love for clothes that I do tend to feel a lot of the big name designers have lost in the pursuit of profit and the necessary placating of the dying customer base that keeps that coming in. Of course I'm not for a second saying Gucci does not care about profit, but at the very least, they have on board a creative director who genuinely has fun with what they’re putting out there and wants to make a statement too and that really shows; you can rest on your laurels and sell tweed boucle jackets to rich old white women for eternity but nobody’s going to mention your brand name and the word groundbreaking in the same sentence ever again unless they’re talking about what it was a century ago, you know (mentioning no names...unless...did I hear someone say Chanel)? That feels like such a shady way to end, lol, but I’m sure said brand will survive-to be fair, they’ve been included in every other What I’d Wear to Sit Front Row At video I’ve seen so although I’m always slagging them off for doing the saaaaame thinggggg year after year, for that same reason their aesthetic is instantly recognisable and so will always be a source of imitation. There are obviously pros and cons to being a brand which constantly reinvents itself but I think it’s totally possible to do that whilst maintaining an overall mission, and Alessandro Michele’s work at Gucci demonstrates that with ease.

Anyway, if you got to here, thanks for reading! I know I’m super behind on this whole TikTok trend and I know a Tumblr post instead of a video is a bit of a cop out but all the real, physically awkward ones out there know that watching yourself back is excruciating lmao, so I hope this does the trick. After this, I’m gonna get back to the reviewing S/S21 collections post though knowing me I’ll probs take a few days to get back into that because I feel like since I left full-time education (RIP me going back in a few months) writing continuously like this for any longer than about 15 mins fries what brain cells I have left. Again, thank you for reading and if you are, sending many good vibes your way! Stay safe!

Lauren x

[anistarrose]

Summary: Stan finds a recording from a fateful puppet show, a few disjointed memories fall into place, and the Pines family has some tense conversations.

Relationships: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines

Characters: Stan Pines, Ford Pines, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher (posthumously)

Set in early September, probably a little less than a week after Dipper and Mabel went home.

(It felt good to write some Stangst again! Title is from Monster Town by Go! Child because when I can't think of titles on my own, I go to my GF playlist for inspo, and that song jumped out at me today)

***

“We should probably bring a backup camera on the boat,” Ford mused, in a tone that made it impossible to tell whether he was talking to Stan or just to himself. “Maybe even multiple backup cameras. There’s no telling what the Arctic climate could do to their circuitry, and people hardly take cryptid reports seriously even with photographic evidence, never mind with just an eyewitness account and an excuse about a broken camera —”

“Easy, Sixer.” Stan set down his fully-packed suitcase at Ford’s feet, satisfied with its contents. “I’ve got a camcorder up in my room, or maybe in — actually, I can’t remember where I decided to keep it, but it’s probably still in the house somewhere. If I can find it, you can add it to your camera horde.”

Ford zipped open Stan’s suitcase, revealing hand-knitted sweaters and Hawaiian shirts in approximately equal numbers, and sighed. “Some brave wardrobe choices you’re making here. Or have you forgotten that the first beach we’re stopping at is in Alaska?”

“Well, someone’s gotta lead the fashion revolution in the Arctic Circle, and it sure ain’t gonna be you,” Stan called as he headed upstairs, provoking a resigned “hrmph” from Ford.

Stan decided to look for the camcorder in his bedroom first — because while his memory still had some scattered gaps, his gut instincts rarely lead him astray, and checking his room had been his first impulse. Sure enough, he found it sitting on a shelf and covered in slightly less dust than the adjacent stack of magazines, just as he ever-so-vaguely remembered it.

“Better make sure this thing works, before Ford declares it too unreliable for yeti hunts or whatever,” he muttered to himself, leaning back onto his bed and fumbling for the power button. The camcorder blinked to life, presenting an interface that was probably hopelessly outdated — but Stan didn’t care, while Ford would have no way of knowing what modern Earth technology looked like.

What’d I even record on this thing anyway? He selected a random video from June, was greeted with his own voice singing the first line of the Stan Wrong Song, and immediately deleted the recording. With a sigh and silent vow to never let Ford learn of the song’s existence, he moved on to a video from July.

Once again, it was Mabel’s handiwork — heh, no wonder I couldn’t remember what I used this thing for, since the kids were always borrowing it from me — but this time, Stan himself wasn’t in frame, though the craft supplies strewn about the living room were enough to stir dormant memories.

“Dipper! Puppet Dipper! Smile for the camera!”

Dipper yawned, then somewhat half-heartedly mimicked the motion using the sock puppet on his hand. “Puppet Dipper’s not really feeling up to it this morning.”

“Did Puppet Dipper stay up too late trying to solve a mystery? Bwap!” The footage blurred as Mabel nudged Dipper with a sock puppet of her own. “Do I need to make him a little puppet-sized pillow?”

“How about… some puppet-sized sunglasses, for a puppet detective?” Dipper suggested.

“Good idea!” Mabel agreed. “Then no one will notice when Puppet Dipper falls asleep standing up!”

Stan shook his head and smiled.

Man, I wish I’d found this back when my memories were still a mess — Mabel kinda skimmed over the whole puppet saga in her scrapbook. Wonder what else got recorded from that week…

He selected the next video chronologically, noticing that it was also the final recording on the device, and the smile vanished from his face.

“You can’t stop me!” It was Dipper’s voice, yet not Dipper’s voice — all fury and arrogance, and the camcorder’s cheap speaker crackled with static, like the voice was too much, too wrong, too alien to properly record and then replicate. “I’m a being of pure energy with NO weaknesses!”

Without a doubt, Dipper’s body was onscreen, but he was staggering towards Mabel with arms twisted at impossible angles. He lunged for the journal in her hands, eyes glinting the same gold color as the emblem of the six-fingered hand —

Stan hit the power button, rolled over on the bed, and buried his face in his pillow as the wave of memories crashed into him.

Brushing off Dipper’s sorry state as sleep deprivation, until the kid collapsed on the way out of the theater. Seeing the cuts and bruises all over Dipper’s hands as Stan helped him to his feet, and grilling the kids on what happened the whole drive to the hospital. Not getting an answer beyond “sleep deprivation.”

Not being able to give the doctor an answer beyond “sleep deprivation.”

Telling the twins’ parents it was just “sleep deprivation.”

A tense phone call, assuring Mr. and Mrs. Pines that Dipper’s recovery would be swift and tha Gravity Falls was still safe for their children. Stan’s hands shaking as he holds the phone, having no idea if that’s the truth, if he’s doing the right thing.

Mabel crying over a crumpled-up scrap of paper — a note? — she’d found in the car, and refusing to show it to Stan. Half-overheard secrets, whispered between the younger twins when they think Stan isn’t paying attention — apologies, worries, and murmurs too soft to be in any way decipherable.

Dipper, still with bags under his eyes, spending the next few days doing almost nothing but looking over his shoulder and burying his head in the journal. Stan pretending not to notice, but secretly finding it far too familiar for comfort.

Later memories, too — memories of demons, and handshakes, and feeling his body go numb. Memories of a voice, a furiously shrieking voice — both terrified and terrifying, but more than anything, alien.

Now, far too late, Stan recognized it.

***

“We’re calling the kids,” Stan barked, barging back downstairs, and Ford jumped.

“What’s wrong? Are your memories —”

“Better than they’ve ever been, actually.” Stan stormed directly to the living room table, flipping open the laptop on loan from Soos and clicking the video chat app. “Good enough to figure out something that apparently no one thought it might be important to tell me!”

“Are you sure?” Ford put a hand on Stan’s shoulder. “We can still call them, but let’s talk this through first, make sure you’re not missing any gaps —”

Stan paused, cursor an inch away from the call button beneath Dipper and Mabel’s profile picture. “Did Dipper tell you about the time Bill possessed him?”

Ford started to say something, stopped, and tried again. “I… I assumed you knew. I’m sorry.”

“Did you know I ended up taking him to the goddamn hospital afterwards?”

“No,” Ford whispered, and Stan felt Ford’s fingers dig into his shoulder. “Call the kids, Stan.”

Mabel must’ve been online, because she picked up almost immediately. The video opened with her sitting in her kitchen in Piedmont, Waddles in her lap. “Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford! Guess what I —”

The joy drained out of her smile when she noticed her grunkles’ grave expressions. “What’s going on?”

“Mabel, pumpkin,” Stan murmured, trying to tune out the sound of his heart thumping in his chest, “could you go get your brother?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Dipper slid into view, almost falling off his chair, and Mabel scooted out of the way so they could both comfortably face the laptop. “Is something wrong?”

“Not anymore,” Ford explained, “but Stan and I wanted to talk about… communication, among other things — Stan? Are you sure you’re alright?”

Stan wiped the sweat from his forehead and shuddered, forcing himself to take a deep breath as he stared at the computer.

Dipper’s back home. Dipper’s safe. They’re both safe, and they’ll never have to worry about Bill again.

“Stanley?” Ford echoed, increasingly distressed. “Please, if —”

“I’ll be alright,” Stan managed, because even he wasn’t a good enough liar to convince anyone he was alright at this exact moment. “Promise. But kids, why didn’t you tell me when Bill hijacked your puppet show?”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a guilty look.

“Was it because you thought I’d take away the journal?” Stan regretted his ‘only self-defense’ stipulation for the third journal more than almost anything else he’d said that summer, because he’d always known deep down that it wouldn’t stop the kids — and in hindsight, he would’ve much rather known what trouble the kids were getting into, not have them hide it from him with their late nights out in the woods and nonspecific excuses.

“At first,” Dipper replied. “But we ended up worrying a whole lot more about you sending us home early —”

“Your parents almost made that decision for me,” Stan admitted. “They were ready to drive up here and come get you when they heard what happened. I dunno how I convinced them to let you stay —”

He sighed. “And maybe knowing the truth wouldn’t have actually helped me that time — but it would’ve been nice to know how big a lie I was telling when I told them this town was safe for you kids, y’know?”

He regretted voicing that thought immediately, but regretted it even moreso when Dipper looked away from the camera, mumbling: “I’m sorry, Grunkle Stan.”

“Stan’s not trying to guilt you,” Ford spoke up, “but we want you to know you can talk about these things honestly with us — and that goes for both of you, Dipper and Mabel. We’d never want to punish you for something that was obviously… someone else’s fault.”

Thank god one of us has finally learned to think through what we say before we say it, Stan figured.

“I’m sorry too, kids,” he added out loud. “For getting angry at you a minute ago — ‘cause I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at Bill for what he got away with right behind my back, and I… I just…”

He brushed a finger across their digital faces, a gesture that no doubt failed to translate to the video feed Dipper and Mabel were viewing, and smiled. “Thanks for picking up so fast, ‘cause I really needed a reminder that the two of you are safe and sound and all.”

The kids smiled back, visible for just a second before Mabel leaned forward to hug her laptop and the screen went dark.

“Anytime, Grunkle Stan.”

***

“Coffee?” asked Ford, ever the early riser, as Stan trudged into the kitchen the next morning. “You look like you need it.”

“Gee, thanks, Sixer,” Stan groaned, slumping into the seat across from Ford at the kitchen table. “I’ve heard of backhand compliments, but now I’ve gotta live with your backhanded coffee offers too?”

“Sorry. I’m sympathizing, not mocking — I promise, when I woke up today, my eyes were just as bloodshot as yours are now,” Ford replied, sliding Stan a mug of steaming coffee. “How are your memories?”

It was a routine question as of late, but Stan still managed to botch it completely.

“Too good,” he muttered under his breath, and earned a quizzical look from Ford.

“Pardon?”

“…Good enough that I can remember all kinda things to feel shitty about,” Stan reluctantly admitted. “Like not even noticing when Dipper was possessed, for one thing. I spent the whole summer worrying about him, except for when he was actually in danger —”

“Oh, Stanley,” Ford sighed, “that’s not your fault. You know Bill was an expert liar; he scammed too many people to count —”

“Yeah, but I shoulda seen through it!” Stan brought his fist down on the table, and the contents of his mug sloshed precariously close to the top. “Of all people, I should’ve known better —”

“Right.” Ford grimaced. “Right. Because no one else who should’ve known better was ever tricked by a dream demon for a whole lot longer than a few hours —”

“Shit. Ford, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like —”

With a controlled glowering expression and deliberate motions, Ford stood, marching across the kitchen with all the fury and hesitation of a slow-moving thunderstorm.

“I didn’t mean it was your fault! I’d never — ”

“…I know.” Ford came to a halt at the door, bracing one hand against the frame. “But if you can say as much about me, then… then why can’t you just say that about yourself?”

“What?!”

“You would’ve caught on soon enough, if Mabel hadn’t defeated Bill when she did — I wasn’t there, but I’m sure of that because I know you, and I know how well you know Dipper.” Ford shook his head. “I didn’t catch on to Bill’s lies for years. I gave him free reign to hurt people for so much longer than one evening —”

He crossed his arms, and his imposing silhouette in the doorway seemed to shrink.

“So if you’re not blaming me for anything to happen this summer, then you’d better not blame yourself, you — you knucklehead.”

“Are you kidding me?” Stan leapt out of his seat. “It’s no wonder you didn’t see through Bill’s lies, when your whole life, you had me watching your back — and then I wasn’t there for you, when you needed me more than ever —”

“Because I pushed you away!” Ford shouted, whirling back around to face him. “Do you know what I realized while I was trying to fall asleep last night? That if I’d just stood up to Dad when he kicked you out, if I’d just done the right thing for once in my formative years, then the end of the world as we knew it would’ve been averted altogether! No falling for Bill’s flattery, no arguing over the zodiac, no Weirdmageddon! We could’ve had it all, but we just couldn’t live in that better world, all because I convinced myself you were suffocating me —”

“But it sounds like maybe I still am, huh?” Stan growled. “If all I do is just make you furious like this —”

“No,” Ford gasped, all the hostility in his voice and his glare immediately melting away. “No, no, absolutely not! I’m not furious at you, Stan, I’m…”

“Furious at yourself,” Stan accused, “for being even worse than me?!”

“No! Don’t even say that!”

Before Stan could process what was happening, much less protest it, Ford was hugging him, burying his face in Stan’s shoulder.

“Maybe — maybe I am angry at you, after all,” Ford admitted, “but you’re my hero, Stanley. My inspiration. If am angry with you, it’s — it’s just because you’re too damn stubborn to forgive yourself…”

Stan gingerly placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder. “…Yeah, and you’re one to talk.”

“I won’t deny that,” Ford mumbled. He went quiet for a few seconds, and when he spoke up again, his voice was quieter, yet slightly more composed. “Maybe we need to just… call a truce. Find something positive to agree on. We’re both too stubborn for this argument to end with either of us admitting we were wrong —”

“At least for give-or-take the next forty years,” Stan interrupted, punctuating his words with a bitter laugh.

Ford barked out a laugh of his own, loud and cathartic, and withdrew from the hug, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. “If Dipper and Mabel were here, they would have told us to stop being stubborn old men a while ago. I wish they were here.”

“They’d probably also tell us it’s more Bill’s fault than either of ours,” Stan added. “And… I guess they’d have a point.”

“I can see the logic in that.” Ford smiled faintly. “I’m sorry for making this about me, by the way. You opened up to talk about your own issues, and I —”

“Hey, I made it about you just as much as you did, Brainiac,” Stan reminded him. “…But damn. You think we’ll ever be able to talk about our feelings without shouting our lungs out at each other?”

“We’re still no good at thinking through anything before we say it,” Ford replied, “though I guess we must be getting a little better, since we didn’t even stop speaking to each other this time.”

“Thank god. I’m tired of not talking to you.”

The two of them settled back into their seats at the table, and Stan reached for the morning paper, but Ford spoke up once more.

“I know forgiveness, especially self-forgiveness, can be… complicated,” he told Stan in a low voice, “so maybe I’m biased, speaking as someone who’d rather not grapple with my own personal guilt — but even more important than whether you forgive or blame yourself, I think, is acknowledging that you made mistakes, yet still deserve good things from the universe. And that goes for you and me both.”

Stan took a sip from his mug, pleased to find its contents were still warm. “Good things like coffee, and adventures sailing around the world?”

Ford chuckled. “My priorities exactly.”

[satoruvt]

only for you, i will dance

pairing → lee chan x reader

word count → 677

genre → magical realism-ish.... not exactly fluff but not angsty either, non-idol au

song inspo → lilili yabbay by seventeen

warnings → none i think

a/n → this is like very very vaguely inspired by a fic i read on ao3 called promises to keep by figure8... very vaguely HAHA but i did write this with a universe like theirs in mind so i figure i might as well link it <3 anyways no thoughts just chan thank you goodnight

Dressed in white, he comes from the moon.

You don’t really know much about him, aside from that. Not what he is or his age. The first time you met, in a dream, he told you his name. He never said you couldn’t ask questions, but you rarely do. You’ve almost never needed to. You know what you need to, what he’s given you, and in this world - the one he created, for you, for him - what matters more than knowledge is feeling. 

Tonight, again, you pray for him.

Tonight, again, he comes to you from his place on the moon.

Tonight, again, you are taken to a place only the two of you can exist.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been with him, how long it’s been since he first showed himself to you, and you’re not sure if it’s still a dream anymore. You’ve only asked once, whether or not this was all real, and he had only brushed hair away from your face, murmuring he was just as real as anything else. You haven’t asked about it since.

“Chan,” you breathe into the open air. He feels too far away, like he might slip. The last time you saw him was longer ago than usual - most nights you look at the moon and pray for him to see you and he comes, beautiful, down from the sky without hesitation. “You made me wait.”

Chan smiles at you from his place by the pond, nudging a lotus’ petal gently with his finger. It sways softly in the water. “I did,” he says. “I’m sorry. Did you think I disappeared?”

He stands from the edge of the pond and turns towards you, white robes following his movements. You’re sat on a still-surprisingly clean sofa, the kind seen in magazines and high-end furniture stores. The white of its cushions is never damaged, never stained, despite its constant time outside. You suppose Chan can keep it that way; it is his world.

“Almost,” you respond truthfully. Chan moves towards you. “I don’t think you ever would, though.”

“Not willingly,” he says. You watch him as he comes to stand in front of you, bends until your noses are touching. His hands find yours and your fingers tangle together.

Minutes pass like that, or maybe hours, dressed in gentle candlelight and close to Chan. Your eyes are closed but you feel him there, heavy and warm in your grasp, breathing him in and letting him fill you. You think you could spend forever like this.

“Will you dance for me?” You ask eventually, voice soft against the sound of crickets. Chan hums, something amused, and you squeeze his fingers in retaliation, though you can’t hide your own gentle smile.

“Only for you,” Chan tells you, whispers it like a promise against the skin of your cheek. Like a reminder that he always comes back to you, that he made a world where the two of you could be.

You miss his touch when he moves away, but not for long. Chan dances like something beautiful, like it’s a vulnerability. My movements are for you, he had told you once, spoken against sheets and lips and heavy breaths. He dances on moonlight to the sound of your heartbeat and the tender tide of the pond, flowing through everything around him. Nothing feels the way his dancing does; nothing matches the warmth and weight in your chest when he finishes.

You go to him when he’s done, just like how he came to you before. His hands glide for you easily, pull you in closer to him. His chest rises and falls quickly, catching his breath after exertion, but with time it slows to normal and you hold each other until it does.

“This will always be our own time,” he says. “We’ll meet here.”

You know. He says it every time. It never fails to make your heart soar.

“Our thirteenth month,” you say, just like every time. Chan smiles.

He kisses you so strong you feel yourself falling.

[roughentumble]

oh!!! in case anyone was wondering, i did finish that AU that was half-formed as i was falling asleep last night. i dont think anything ever came of it haha-- its basically just misao. not so much in the "little girl gets sexually assaulted and brutally murdered at school" sense, but more like an overarcing "some people enter a haunted building and are locked inside, forced to learn its violent secrets" sort of thing. the ghost-- the "misao"-- in this equation is geralt. he's been missing for a long time, and when they find the house and physically see him as an apparition, that's confirmation on what's become of him.

he's twisted, and violent, and his features look... wrong. innocent people who'd wandered into the house long before any of geralt's friends found it, all lay dead beneath the floorboards. but it is, despite everything, very clearly him.

jaskier is the one who agrees to stay with him(the "aki", if you know the true ending of misao), to abate his loneliness. despite everyone's pleas, he steps forward into geralt's arms, and then the two of them vanish.

it's a bright, sunny day outside. birds chirp. the front door hangs open on its hinges... and jaskier and geralt are gone. their remaining friends take a moment to huddle together and mourn...

and then, miraculously, a few moments later, out of nothing falls geralt and jaskier.

now, what they'd learned along the way, somehow or another, is that the reason geralt is such a strong and dangerous apparition despite not actually being dead that long is because he didnt die normally. he was trying to reason with a mage, it had come to blows, and in his dying moments the mage had been angry. vengeful. "if im to die here, you'll be trapped here too. alone." sort of thing. those feelings, a giant explosion of magic, and the next thing geralt knows he's trapped. not just within the four walls of the building, but he fades in an out, in a sort of... pocket dimension. time passes differently in there, he's been trapped for longer than a few months, or a handful of years, and it's broken him on top of amplifying whatever power he'd have as a specter.

but the two key factors are that he was never actually dead-dead despite what everyone thought, and when jaskier agreed to stay he was no longer actually alone, breaking one of the stipulations of the mage's dying curse.

its obvious, though, despite the brief amount of real time passed, neither is alright. even jaskier shrinks back from the light, clings to geralt wordlessly. it's been far longer for them. (let's say a year for simplicity's sake, but you can make up whatever amount of time works to you.)

that's basically the conclusion, then the epilogue is them healing. jaskier gets better, mostly, but geralt's problems are life-long. it takes a LOT of help, and healing, and magic, to get him anywhere near functioning, and he can't return to the Path. he has a panic attack if he's alone in a room for too long, and he and jaskier are codependant, completely attached at the hip.

to my mind they probably take up residence in oxenfurt. jaskier is offered a position teaching, and even though it's a LOT of people(which is hard for geralt to handle) it's safer than life on the road, and they never have to be apart for any particular reason. geralt sits in with him for his lectures, finds himself comforted by jaskier's voice. no more excitement, or contracts, or daring adventures, but they manage to carve out a life for themselves that's happy enough, make peace with the more painful parts of their past.

im not sure how to make a story of it, or even if i'd want to make a story of it, but it was fun to think about. and you can definitely feel my aversion to major character death, lmao, it'd honestly be simpler to just have them both die, but i do think there's something appealing(for lack of a better word) about there being something so terrible that even the famous white wolf cant come back from it. the isolation was too much, and no matter how much he heals, geralt cant be who he was, but he can become someone who's happy where he is.

of course, there is the supernatural problem-- if you make "passage of time in the void" a direct 1-to-1 to some regular unit of time, then geralt very quickly becomes trapped and tortured with solitude for an unreasonable and frankly goofy amount of time(see dean winchester getting tortured for decades. its not a comprehensible amount of time. that's not a thing a person can endure.) you can either lean into that, and give it the feel of A Ghost Story(numbers arent as important as a proper atmosphere in this case), or you leave the numbers intentionally vague so it doesnt get goofy.

now, you could make an argument for any match-up you like-- instead of jaskier choosing to walk beside him and follow him as he always has, it's yennefer in a clever play on "you've condemned yourself to me". now she's condemning herself to him. or perhaps eskel, two drops of water, it's always been the two of them, and now it will always be just the two of them. lambert, who knows loss and loneliness and agony and decides he cant leave geralt to that fate, even if its reckless to jump into the abyss with him. regis, who's lived a long life and decides the best way to end it is in comforting an old friend. any manner of ship(or gen) works perfectly well-- i choose jaskier because i'm a one trick pony, but i'd honestly read any of these other matches, it all depends on what an author wants to write. and if anyone for some reason feels inspired by my spiel, feel free to write it, as long as you send me a link to the finished product! (and perhaps credit me for inspo? thats not required tho it'd just be nice.)

[axemetaphor]

Hey, I'm that guy from ao3. I was wondering, do you have a specific place you get inspo for monsters in Auckland? I'm making a DnD campain in the J&D world, aaand I kinda need help haha. Yours are like perfect <3 (Also, if you wanna join us, you can, we haven't even had our zero session and we're not playing actual DnD, I don't know how to play that, so it's ok if you don't know that, it's super easy and fun i swear, you can get a link to our discord, love you)

:0 oh shit hi !! a jdate DnD game sounds cool as fuck! im really bad at games like that tho so im gonna politely pass on that one but wish y'all the best of luck!!! 

as for making monsters my inspo is Kind Of Weird? i mean i look at a lotta horror art for sure (my favourite artist atm is Trevor Henderson aka slimyswampghost on most medias, u may know him as That Guy Who Made Sirenhead but he has a lot of other fantastic art as well!), but since i dont wanna feel like im rippin other people off i actually Dont often use that as inspo! aaaand heres where its gonna get a bit weird

aside from the times i pluck a creature from my nightmares (and boy, do i have a lotta material to work with there), i usually either look into folklore (bein mindful of closed cultures like, i believe most Native American monsters are off-limits for non-Natives to write; im white as hell so i try to stick to british/irish/more recent american shit) or... i look to this one game i played Obsessively when i was in elementary/middle school: Spore (which you can find on Steam i think or their hilariously hasn't-been-updated-in-a-WHILE website). I literally played it so much I can just kind of... imagine the whole creature-creator process. I think it’s a curse. I think Todd Howard cursed me for the crime of Having No Friends.

Now, if you dont wanna download a probably-poorly-aged EA game from 2007 (i dont even know if it’d run anymore if you Just Now bought it, i remember the security measures that thing had damn near broke the game before i could even play it, thanks EA) and play through the first two stages (theyre Long) to unlock the creature creator and all the Bits for it, you can either watch people play that shit on YouTube (Monster Factory is a favourite of mine, they did I Think a 3-video run of Spore) or, 

You can also do somethin that I once did as an assignment for Character Design class: go to a random animal generator, let it spit out 2-3 animals (or as many as you like, i guess, but i find 2-3 to be a Manageable number) and mash those motherfuckers together! Hell, you can even start to mix in stuff like objects/minerals/whatever the fuck too. Make something that’s a dog, hammerhead shark, and the concept of entropy. Go nuts! Here’s an example, some shit I made for that class (which mayyyyyy appear in Auckland...... perhaps. if i feel like it) :

They can range from “cute” to “nightmarish” as you please! Fun fact, that spider/shark/scorpion is meant to be the size of a house. I honestly come up with a lot of messed up shit by just asking myself "What's the worst thing I can think of right now?" and then I just Go For It with whatever my brain's thrown at me. I did that with Nightmare E.T. and the fucked-up ostriches. 'Scary' is often a sort of personal thing for people, like phobias and shit, you know? Lookin inward can be pretty helpful there. Not like you have to make something of your phobias, just maybe run with something that disturbs you a little. If you press yourself for why it bothers you sometimes you can find something deeper and maybe more universal in it. I'm not talking about unearthing trauma or anything tho that likely Wouldn't Be Healthy just like... if you think spiders are creepy, ask yourself Why: is it the eyes? the legs? the venom? the way they just kinda creep up on you, like, you dont notice em til you see them? etc.

As for the monsters in Auckland while most of them aren’t gonna be references (maybe a few more in future chapters...) I will admit the “morning wood monster” is a reference to the Pokémon Trevenant; the "most fucked-up dog [Dave had] ever seen" was a creature from The Moomins just described as horribly as possible--I can't find it on the wiki anymore??? it was from the 2d animated one, though; the Shitsucker is a regular ol’ Wraith (following a specific mythos where they aren’t just Random Ghosts but beings that feed off negative emotional energy, I can't re-find which one I'm sorry lmao); and the haunted ship thing at the beginning is a vague reference to the Buzzfeed Unsolved episode on that big ass boat. Isn't directly tied to it (obviously, 'cause Buzzfeed Unsolved never has much Actual Ghost Activity, let alone one Throwin Shit At Em jhgfds), more just inspired by it.

Maybe when the thing is done, I’ll sort them all into one of three categories--references to stuff/folklore, things i had nightmares about, and things i just kind of thought up. Make a post on here about it, idk

wow! this was fuckin long. i hope at least some of that is helpful!! also im adding this here cause i just remembered some people use Spore to sculpt like?? beautiful monsters and shit?? like i Know i watched a “speedrun” of someone creating a beautiful ass dragon in it. there’s probably a whole community of people out there making epic and/or fucked up shit and you could watch them build it or just scroll through thumbnails for inspo, but i do feel like Building Stuff Yourself is best, cause it just kind of Feels Nice to make something yourself and go “hey man, look how fucked up this is ! scary, right?” and get that Success Feeling when the other guy recoils and goes "yeah man what the fuck though"

[the-darklings]

—𝗖𝗢𝗔 𝗙𝗔𝗤;

Hello, everyone! So with COA being such a long-running series and new readers finding it constantly, I have come to realise that a lot of questions I get often repeat. So to keep everything easy and clear and friendly for everyone regardless of whether you started COA at the very beginning of the story or just recently found it, I have spent the day relaxing, eating junk food, and compiling this FAQ. Please read through it because chances are the answers are here somewhere. I have sectioned the guide into following: general, story, ships, original squad (OCs), AUS, OC!V and tips/advice. If the answer to your question is not here, please feel free to send me a message and have a wonderful day! <33 - kat.

GENERAL:

when does this story update?

I try to keep a bi-weekly schedule (now usually Sunday updates). But I always let you know when the chapter is done by making a final word count post (pre edits). 

do you have a masterlist?

yes, you can find it here.

do you have a tag list?

not for COA. they’re very time consuming and I’m already really busy sorry :(

are your requests open?

I rarely open my inbox for requests. the only exception being the monthly blurb nights. then I reblog a prompt list and let people send some requests in for any fandom/ship. however, usually due to how many I get, it only happens every few months. that being said, you can still send me ideas/suggestions and if it inspires me, I will write it. that’s how the majority of the AUs have come about. but i’m also a very busy person so sorry if I can’t. 

can I make X or Y for COA and tag you?

yes. yes. yes. please, please, feel free to create whatever for COA (no matter how small or silly) because I consider it a great honour that I’ve been able to inspire someone else. whatever it is, please tag me. I wanna see.

okay, I made a thing and tagged you but you didn’t respond :(

Tumblr is notorious for eating my notifs. whatever it is (art/post/etc) if I don’t respond to it in a day or two, please give me a nudge. you’re not being annoying, I promise. chances are I missed it/tumblr ate it. 

I wanna scream/discuss/theorise about COA with others, is there any way for me to do that?

my amazing readers have set up this reddit page that is full of lovely people, theories, and memes etc. I check it often and interact on there, too, so feel free to drop by.

STORY:

how many chapters will COA be?

25. the last one being a very long epilogue.

have you decided on the ending yet?

yes. from as early as part 2. it's barely changed since. 

will we ever see more of Prague/Naples? hoe, please say yes.

yes. I plan to write both as COA bonus stories after the main story-line concludes.

will there be a sequel? 

depends. on two things: 1) if anyone will even care by that point 2) time. this story has consumed 5 months of my life entirely. i’ve been incredibly strict with myself when it comes to writing it (in a good way) but at best it won’t be finished till the end of august/beginning of september. so likely even if I do, there will be a break for a few months at least. I do have ideas though.

you promised us smut. where is it?

patience is a virtue. ;)

happy ending or tragedy? (please don’t say tragedy, you monster)

I would describe it more as “bittersweet” but whether it leans more towards bitter or sweet you’ll have to see.   

SHIPS:

any endgame hints?

you know more about the ending than you probably realise

can v/s finally go to Paris? for the love of GOD? pLEASE?

no

hector + v? powerful. will there be more of them in the future? 

agreed & yes. hector and v have their own arc to go on. it’s actually one of my favourites in this story. I don’t want to say more than that right now because I have plans for their dynamic so no spoilers. :)

please stop bullying john. give us some j/v content please? 

i, for one, adore john. it’s team S that’s bullying him lol. but wait till parabellum. i’ve always referred to that portion of the story as the second coming of j/v.

does lucien actually have a thing for v or is it a creepy obsession? 

it’s both.

I ship v with everyone :/ is that bad?

the sky is the limit. ship all the things proudly (but seriously, no, it isn’t. I ship all the ships, too, and that’s the fun of it) 

v/elder tho? 👀

🔫🤡

j/v or s/v? be honest.

you fool,,,, you buffoon. ot3 j/v/s is where it’s really at. imagine their POWER.   

ORIGINAL SQUAD:

what do the Elites/Lovers look like/how old are they?

please refer to this

will there be more step??

of course. he’s my baby. :)

will we see more of camorra/learn more about the elite’s and their backstories?

while I would love to take the time and flesh them all out with full backstories, only hector will be getting his backstory explored in the main canon because plot.

does lucien care for mika anymore or has he replaced her with v?

lucien is a messy hoe. mika is his subject of “affection” but v is his foil and equal. he recognises the same hurt in her that he has gone through himself so it’s more of a fixation. with time, lucien would likely destroy v so no bueno. 

I ship our OCs.

I do, too.

can we write about your OCs/V?

so you would have to come to me and discuss this more in private but I’m fine with this sort of thing usually. in fact, a prequel hector story already exists so you’re likely good but please contact me first. 

AUs:

when/how often do you update the vampire!au?

whenever I have time/inspo. mainly time. so this means you can get it daily or not get it for several weeks because COA is priority. I keep you all updated on when I have something cooking tho.

what is the actual pairing for vamp!au?

undecided as of yet. i’m leaning more towards ot3 right now but we shall see.

how often do you update flowing in me?

same as the above. whenever I have the time but I will keep you updated.

how many parts will flowing in me be?

I have 5 parts(ish) planned.

do you have a tag list for flowing in me?

I will. please leave a comment on the story if you want to be tagged in future parts!

will flowing in me feature other characters (john, winston etc.)?

this story is mainly camorra-centric but I do plan for John to appear at some point.

how did you come up with your lore in vamp!au?

to be completely honest....I just wrote a bunch of stuff down and used what stuck. mostly the ideas were pulled out of thin air while still trying to keep within the spirit of the canon material (the high priest, the holy church, the twelve priests, john being the boogeyman etc). camorra as the natural enemy seemed fitting and santino as a vampire prince even more so.

can we send you new au ideas/expand on old ones (manager!V etc)?

yes, always. I always try my hardest to reply but ofc I can’t promise I’ll be able to use them all but thank you in advance.

OC!V:

who is the face claim for OC!V?

weronika spyrka

what is her real name?

clara

how old is she at the beginning of the story and now?

23 beginning of chapter 1, 30 beginning of chapter 4 (current timeline)

will/would you ever write an original story about her?

I have considered creating something original out of COA itself or one of its sister series/concepts (like FIM). since I really started working on COA during last year’s NaNo, that might be the time I create something original this year. 

TIPS & ADVICE:

how do you write so much, so quickly?

I don’t think that word count is really reflective of the quality work itself. I don’t think you should worry how much you write, either. 100 words can be just as valuable as 1k. most of them time I have a deadline breathing down my neck and I do work well under pressure so that inspires me to force the chapters out. I also do very long days because despite what it might look like I’m not a fast writer.

how can I improve my writing?

read and practice. I know it’s dumb and overused advice but it’s how I learned english and found my style (still a mess and WIP) but still this advice does help. 

how do you keep motivated?

spite, your support, genuine adoration for these characters/word, a lot of spite. 

do you plan? outline?

I have a vague story outline with specific scenes in mind as I go along (helps to set up foreshadowing, twists, and those ‘full circle’ moments). I also plan each chapter scene by scene and know what each chapter is meant to accomplish. So yeah in a sense. 

[skeletonwoman]

J is for Jacket

A little something different now! I’ve always loved Jason Todd best but recently i’ve actually started to learn more about the entire batfam and Jay himself, so here’s the inspo from that

Edit: i created a second/alternate POV part called Jay is for Jacket

This city is damn terrifying.

You’re a little crazy obsessed with it, the damn crazy terrifying bit.

Like its truly damn crazy terrifyingly sick.

Just a little though, right here on the corner of your buildings roof, with the moon hidden by the clouds above, and the lights sprawled before you, its incredible.

Four different people land on the roof behind you, coming from some other building somewhere, and you try not to move. This high up its usually some kind of hero running around trying to stop something bad.

Funny that, the heroes on the rooftops and the villains in the basement.

I wonder if that’s a metaphor…

Usually, if you keep still, the heroes move on quickly enough without even noticing you.

This time, you’re so zoned in on the lights and being still and quiet that you don’t even notice it until those 4 people sit themselves beside you on the ledge.

“Oh, oh!” You jump, hands gripping the edge so tightly as you wobble. None of them move to touch you, and you’re unsure if that’s good or bad.

What if you’d fallen?

“I’m not going to jump,” you offer to your visitors but they remain silent.

A quick dart of your eyes left, shows you a mop of red hair and a bat mask, and right, shows you a red almost ski mask hood. You can’t tell who’s beyond the two immediately on either side of you. Ignoring the non-gothamite voice in your head, you settle in with your guests and just watch.

It’s a long hour before they leave and you wonder how many people got mugged while they sat with you.

Then you go back downstairs and to bed.

  “You’re such an ass!” You shout, kicking out at Dick, who dances away from you with a laugh. “You’re always bullying me!”

Dick laughs harder at that and you scowl. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best,” he promises, a twinkle in his eye and your heart thuds hard. He’s so romantic.

“Hey, Dicky,” you say softly and he pauses grinning to himself to look at you earnestly. “I think you’re wonderful, and you’re the most handsome person I’ve ever met, and I love that I got to know you.”

A bright blush fills his cheeks as you speak and he beams at you.

“I freaking wish we were in love, we would be so good at it,” he bemoans, gazing at you, eyes full of love, and you cackle.

“You couldn’t handle this, baby boy, I’d break your sweet heart.”

He nods, eyes serious and lips twitching.

Ahead, your building looms and as you step onto your stoop, you turn to your best friend. “Really, Grayson, you’re my best friend and you’re special.”

“And you’re mine. I suppose you’re special too, but, y’know, I’m extra special.” He grins at you charmingly and you ruffle his wind-mussed hair.

“You going to your class tomorrow?” The two of you both have classes on Tuesdays and Wednesdays and usually walk to and from campus with each other, even if it means getting there an hour early or leaving an hour late, just so you can spend some time together. Of course, sometimes you, or he, just don’t go to class.

“I don’t know, I’m hanging out with Jay tonight and you know how he is,” he says and shrugs.

You do know. You’ve been hearing about Jay for the past year, since you’d met your platonic soulmate in Dick Grayson on campus. Jay his baby brother, Jay the maniac, Jay as an idiot, broken Jay, stupid Jay, Jay his favourite sibling, Jay the best.

“Well, tell him I say that its time for bed and give him a Fredo kiss for me, throw him off his game.”

Your words bring another smile to Dicks face, your intent, and you trot up the steps and through the door of your building, offering him a last wave before you shut it. The plan is to make, eat and clean up dinner, then hunker down with your assignments.

That’s the plan.

  It’s 10.48pm, you’d just checked the time on your phone, and you hear a distant explosion.

There’s no flash of light or mushroom of smoke so you figure its just another Gotham night, though you wouldn’t be too shocked if there was.

  An hour later, a hero lands on your buildings roof and sits down beside you. He’s alone, the red hooded guy, which is odd but not suspect.

Your ass is cold, you should be doing your assessments and yet…

You shiver and startle when the man beside you moves- you’d both been so still for so long you’d forgotten he wasn’t a statue.

He sets his jacket over your shoulders and you whisper a soft, “thank you.”

“No problem.”

His voice is startling as well. It’s not rough and unused like you’d expected from someone so comfortable sitting in silence for so long. It’s actually- hell, what’s the word?

One minute he’s there, the next he’s gone.

Without his jacket.

Pulling it tighter around yourself, you’re glad. It smells nice, if a little smokey, and the residual warmth when he’d placed it on your shoulders had felt like nothing else. It lingers, fighting a losing battle with your body heat.

You’re never taking this off.

Unless he asks for it back.

Not even then.

  “Where’d you get that jacket?” Dick asks, his eyes squinting and suspicious. “And when?”

“I stole it, obviously, and last night.” You don’t want to tell him you consort with superheroes, it’s a little weird, maybe braggy, definitely not something you should advertise. “I found it hanging over this,” you pat the round ball at the end of your stoops stone railing, “and now it’s mine.”

Dick stares at you for a long minute as you both walk toward campus. “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean, am I sure, Dicky? Obviously I’m sure.” You bite your lip. “I didn’t steal it, if I thought it belonged to someone in my building I would’ve asked around, you know that. I don’t want to get beat up by some angry guys girlfriend.”

Dick grins at the image, momentarily distracted and you bite out a quick question about Jay and their night last night, and he takes the bait.

He does look at the jacket strangely several times though.

  It’s 6pm when a banging knock hits your door. For a second, you’re terrified.

More than a second.

Checking the peep hole, your breath whooshes out of you at the sight of a red mask.

Damn!

Unlatching your locks, you pull open the door and stare at him. He’s got to say it if he wants the jacket back. He has to ask.

“Can I have it back?”

Damn!

Your lips curve upwards even as you sigh loudly. Leaving the door open, you head across your tiny apartment to your armchair and pick up the discarded garment. For a moment, you hug it close and catch a teasing whiff of that just… Something scent.

“Here,” you say, crossing back to where he stands in the doorway and holding it out. “I’m sad to see it go, its amazing and I’m very jealous you own it. Where’d you get it?”

“No,” he says and you frown.

That’s not fair. But you don’t argue, since he’s totally capable of killing you and hiding your body.

“Thank you for lending it to me, I appreciated it, and have a wonderful night, Red,” you call after his retreating back and you watch him pause at the nickname before continuing back to the stairwell.

  The next morning, rushing out the door for work, your feet tangle in material and you catch your falling self on the wall. There, waiting on the ground outside your little apartments door is the jacket. The jacket!

Grinning from ear to ear, you snatch it up and shove it over your arms and run for work.

  Midway through the day, a shockingly good looking guy enters the store and you watch him browse the leashes and collars section for a long time before he wanders to the dog toys, then to the cat toys.

Your supposed to go ask if he needs a hand but he’s a bit rugged and controlled and intimidating and handsome and you’re unsure if you can move from this spot.

The shock of white at the front of his hair would be his most striking feature if he didn’t look up at that exact moment and lock eyes with you. Pretty, pretty, pale blue eyes.

This is what you were supposed to have with Dick.

This is love.

Or lust.

Both work.

Seizing on the eye contact, you head toward him with a customer smile. “Anything I can help you find today?”

For a second, his breathing seems to pick up as he stares at you and you force your smile brighter.

Oh boy.

Then he clears his throat. “Dog toy, great dane.”

His voice is weirdly deep and curt but you push past the strangeness. He’s a customer and they just be like that.

Beaming a smile, you gesture to a durable and hot pink stuffed elephant.  “Some customers have issues with the colour but this guy is really the best on the market right now for dogs like great danes. It’s tough, light weight, machine washable and there’s a squeaker inside.”

He snatches it off the shelf, his eyes on you before they drop to the elephant and his lips tip up in a small smile. You wave him after you and check him out.

“Thank you,” he says, just as gruffly as before and you smile a goodbye. He turns, then pauses before turning back to you. Clearing his throat once more, he nabs a pen from the pen cup beside your till and your hand in one move. Quick as a flash, you feel the end of the pen tickling over your skin and you look down to see a number forming.

“Text me,” he says before rushing out the door in a flurry of movement, stealing your pen in the process.

Something about his voice at the end there, vaguely familiar.

i assume i’ll be writing another part but i also might not, my mind is a fickle SNAKE

Edit: Part 1.5 is noted above but here’s part 2!

[miracle-sham]

Vent Your Spleen Until You Keen.

| {Maribat 2k20 – Day 3: Out Sick} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

| Triggers/Warnings: Major Character Injury, Major Illness, Pneumonia, Concussions, Blood and Injury, Drowning, Explicit Language/some swearing. |

| Bloodied Robins aren't built to swim with clipped wings. Good thing the bats, birds, and bug are there to patch him up before it's too late. |

| Word count: 1968. |

==–==

| A/N: So as I mentioned in the authors note of the previous Ficlet, I got mugged in the dark dank alleyway by the Maribat2k20 MariTim prompt calendar and stabbed by the knife of inspiration. Except this time it was the angsty knife of inspo. So enjoy a nice but of hurt with comfort. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

 Crashing into the Miller Harbour waters after being thrown from the roof of a warehouse is not how Tim thought his evening would go. Then again, earlier, he hadn't realised this drug trade would be a trap, meaning now he just so happens to be the unlucky bat to get caught. Or in this case, dumped in the harbour. Which is great. Lovely. Abso-fucking-lutely spectacular.

 The crack of the armoured suit and gear slamming into the dubiously murky waves is accentuated by the thrumming pain from where his back and neck take the brunt of the impact. Tim arches in pain as the air is knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for breath. It's not helped by the chilly water breaching his suit and stinging his open wounds. I'm going to get so sick from this, urgh. He grumbles internally. Even if he wasn't lacking a spleen, the harbour's waters are polluted enough to make probably even Superman sick.

 Tim kicks upwards and is struck with the realisation of oh no, oh fuck. As the water weighs his suit down even more and he starts to sink. The cold saps his energy and makes him clumsy. Fingers slipping at the straps and zips and security measures on his suit. Grimacing, he struggles, strength waning too quickly. Sploosh-Thwip-thwip-thunk-clink, chunks of his armour detach and sink below, significantly slowing his descent but he's still sinking.

 He fumbles around his belt for his rebreather and manages to get it over his mouth just as his vision loses colour and goes fuzzy around the edges. Breathing heavily, he listens to the creepy sound of the rebreather working and flurry of air bubbles surrounding it.

 Shit, I'm running out of time. Tim curses in his head. He keeps kicking and the water is looking lighter, meaning he's close. So close. But not close enough.

There's a thunderous splash as Tim breaches the surface. He doesn't stop—can't stop, not if he wants to live. His swimming is the only thing keeping his blood pumping and head above water.

 His vision blurts violently and the darkness at the edges of his sight flares. Not enough time, not enough. The bank is closer though, I might make it?

 Tim blacks out.

 One second he was swimming for his life, now he's lying face down on the cement bank, gasping for breath like a dying fish. He pushes himself up, muscles protesting and shaking from cold and pain. There's a shallow pool of watery blood surrounding him—not good but could be worse. Just need to get back to my Nest and I'll be fine.

 Tim fiddles around his remaining armour and gear, tapping the self destruct buttons for the discarded gear, and grasping at the grapple hook in relief—it would be a pain getting back home without it. He limps forward and shoots the grapple, swinging himself home.

 He barely makes it through deactivating his security measures and stumbles through his window. Limping over to his sofa, Tim immediately collapses and passes out—still in gear.

==–==

 The next day, Marinette's halfway through patrol and already fairly banged up—with a particularly nasty headache among other things—when she spots that the window to Tim's Nest is open. She swings by to inspect and sees his handiwork on the deactivation of his security measures. She hums and glanced through the window to look inside, thinking, Probably nothing to worry abo—

 Tim's lying half on the sofa, covered in blood and muck. He's pale—paler than usual—and his hair is plastered to his forehead. Breathing laboured and nasally, and shaking like a leaf. He looks sick and injured and he's not even managed to switch into civvies before passing out—not good, really not good.

 Okay maybe definitely something to worry about. Marinette mentally amends, a spike of worry slamming itself into her chest. Especially since no one's talked to or heard from him since early patrol yesterday... She climbs through the open window, closing it behind her and then resecures the security measures.

 With a whispered “Tikki, spots off,” she drops her transformation and wobbly bolts to Tim's side. Checking his pulse and status. Too-quick heartbeat, infected lacerations to the arms, legs, and torso, bruised or maybe broken ribs—Marinette flinches and takes a second to calm herself down so she doesn't retch—bruising to the side of the head, and a ton of minor bumps, scratches, and grazes from the looks of things. She then checks his other symptoms: rapid and shallow breathing with occasional wheezing, high temperature, sweating and shivering—clammy.

 Marinette chews her lip, eyes watering. “Oh, Tim…” She shakes her head, heart-pounding, and whips out her phone, scrolling down to the contact with shaky hands. It rings twice then picks up. “Leslie?” She cuts in as soon as the call connects, shoving the phone between her ear and shoulder to free her hands. “I'm at Red Robin's place and he's hurt, really bad, I—” She breathes in before recounting all his injuries and symptoms. “He's unconscious, and I think he's either in septic shock or got pneumonia, maybe both…” As she's talking, Marinette grabs the nearest first aid kit she can find and goes about cleaning out and patching up the injuries she can with the equipment she has.

 “I'll be able to treat him at the cave. How quickly can you get there?” Leslie answers in a clipped but calm tone.

 “Uhh…” Marinette pauses both in speech and in movement, “We'll need someone to drive him there because I can't drive. I don't know who's close enough and can drive. I'll call B, O, or Agent A after this.” She continues to apply first aid.

 “I'll be at the cave in twenty-five minutes,” Leslie responds, cutting the call off not a second later.

 She grabs her phone from her precarious ear-to-shoulder position and scrolls to Agent A's number and it only takes him one ring to answer. “A.” Marinette pulls the same thing she did with Leslie's call, cutting in before the other can speak whilst putting it back between her ear and shoulder so she can continue applying minor treatment. She repeats the same thing she told Leslie. “I've also called Leslie, she's heading to the cave now, she said she'll be about twenty-five minutes.”

 She doesn't quite catch all of Alfred's response because Tim wakes with a groan and coughs, his pupils are blown and his gaze is worryingly blank—glazed over. Marinette thinks she hears something about the batmobile and three minutes but she's more worried that it looks like he's concussed as well. “Concussion. He's also got a concussion.” Marinette relays on autopilot, and maybe she hears Alfred inhale sharply but she can't tell. She's not sure when or if the call ends but she's too stressed to care.

 She's fumbling with the first aid and it takes every speck of focus she's got to make sure she isn't making him worse—next thing she knows Nightwing and Red Hood and jumping through the window (security deactivated and opened first, so no broken windows here).

 Red Hood pulls Marinette away from Tim, and Nightwing carefully scoops his little brother up. The world blurs around her and then her vision wavers, going completely colour blind as it goes fuzzy and dark at the edges, getting worse and worse. She thinks Red Hood's talking to her, he's gripping her arm rather tightly, almost painfully but it's giving her something to anchor on to… But it's not enough, her vision spins, going completely black, and distantly she hears panicked yelling and feels the world tipping to one side—

 ==–==

 The world slowly comes to and Marinette's feeling absolutely wretched. She's lying on a medical cot from what she can tell, but her mind's so fuzzy. She doesn't want to open her eyes. People are talking in hushed tones the distance. She thinks this isn't the first time she's woken up here since—

 She has vague memories of opening her eyes and people bustling in and out of view, asking questions and doing things. She doesn't remember much.

 Then she hears a voice closer to her, she can't remember whose voice it is but it's warm and rumbly but not too gruff—familiar. “Hey kid, you awake again?”

 Marinette groans in protest—she would rather not be awake right now.

 “Yeah, yeah, you're in pain, life sucks. I know.” The voice sounds amused.

 She huffs in indignation which only causes the voice to bark with laughter.

 The voice quietens down after a second. “You an' Timbo gave us quite the scare y'know. Don't think I've ever seen B that worried before, when we dragged the both of you to the Batmobile.”

 Marinette hums, unsure how else to respond.

 “You've got a concussion if you're wondering, you were lucky I was already holding you up when you fainted. Could've made your concussion worse if you had hit the ground instead.”

 She groans again, the mention of the concussion brings the full throbbing pain in the back of her skull back to her attention. She huffs again to express her displeasure at the voice reminding her.

 The voice snorts—probably at her pain like a sadist. “Timbo's fine, by the way, surgery went off without a hitch. Even woke up a few times, so if you're up and about the next time he wakes up you can help the others smother him with love and affection.”

 Marinette smiles lopsidedly. “Coo'.”

==–==

 Of course, the first thing she does once she's no longer bed-bound, and Tim's awake and somewhat healed, is take Jason's (it took her a while to recognise it was him who had been speaking to her) advice. In the form of her relentlessly hugging Tim like a clingy koala—much to his joy and begrudging dismay.

 “Mari… please.” Tim begs, staring at the ceiling as if it would somehow save him.

 If anything his words prompt her to hug him even tighter, “Nope! I will hug you for as long as I physically can.”

 In exasperation, he exclaims, “Mari, no!”

 “Mari, yes!” She shoots him a smug grin.

 “Mari please.” 

 “Tim, I will keep hugging you.” Marinette threatens

 “Mari, let go.” He says with no real intent behind his words.

 “No letting go! Only hugs or death!” She declares with an even smugger grin.

 He grins back then dramatically proclaims, “Guess I'll die then.”

 “No!” She half screeches, struggling to contain her giggles.

 “Oh no! I'm dying! Blargh!” He lays back down on the medical bed, pretending to die dramatically. “Marinette, as my dying words I must tell you that—that I—I—” He fake coughs and lets himself go limp.

 “Tim! Nooo! Clearly, the only way to save you from dying is to give you the magical fairytale kiss of life!” As soon as she says that, not giving him any time to react, she pecks him on the lips.

 “Wow, I'm alive again, what a miracle!”

==–==

 Around the corner, unbeknownst to the two, Jason eyes Dick with amusement. “You taking blackmail photos there, Dickiebird?”

 Dick makes an undignified squawking sound and nearly drops his phone. If not for his bat training, he definitely would have dropped it. Trying to pull off an air of nonchalance, he leans against. “Pfft! What are you talking about? Of course I'm not, I'm just collecting evidence that Timmy's okay. For uh Bruce and Alfred's sake. And the Teen Titans too, they've all been worried once they heard how bad he got.”

 Jason snorts. “"For evidence he's okay", sure you are.”

 Dick narrows his eyes. “If you tell anyone, I'll release all the cute photos I have of you when you were still wearing the Robin suit.”

 Jason gasps. “You wouldn't dare!”

 Dick grins. “Try me, Little Wing.”

 Raising his hands up, Jason backs away. “Fine! You win!”

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

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