I think a lot about Lumi was supposed to die at the end of the comic and how I never got there. It’s a concept I’ve had set up in my mind since the beginning, but it’s also one I’m hesitant to keep because it feels too cruel.

the last days of judas iscariot — luke castellan + reader : betrayal hurts the saints the most. 

tags : mdni, dark!luke, angry kissing, religious imagery & symbolism, body worship, angst and smut, love confessions, p in v sex, corruption kinks, implied blood kink, hints of cannibalism

there was something off about luke castellan. 

he used to be caring, sweet and selfless— he did everything for the people around them, offered them smiles even if it was difficult on his lips, did anything to ease their pain, built himself up into a saint. but eventually, saints will fall, whether it be their own doing, or a martyrdom. 

this was no martyrdom, he was not crucified, strung up on an olive tree, nor stoned. 

this was a conscious decision that nobody else, besides his own self, would understand. it was so, so unlike him, luke was never one to betray the people around him, well, at least he didn’t portray himself that way. if you really knew luke, you’d know how much he hated the gods, he felt as though he was a despicable creation of theirs, and he’ll return the same despising looks. 

but the story starts days before that, luke was as he always was. he offered you a smile from across the training field, and you returned it full - heartedly, waving at him. he moves to approach you, ignoring his sparring partner, “hey, do you need a partner?” 

you glance around for a second, “don’t you already have one?” 

his lips curve to a smirk, “i’d rather be with you.” 

luke castellan had a thing for flirting with you, even if he was just being a tease, and didn’t entirely mean what he said— sometimes you thought he didn’t, or he never did, but in all honesty, he meant everything. 

he admired you beyond proper comprehension, and you did the same with him. having been friends for years, it was no shock when your gazes would linger on each other for longer than they should, when he would do anything to make you smile even if it costs him his reputation. 

on the first day, luke was as he always was, confident, grinning and sweet. 

then the second day came, and luke’s smiles began to fade faster, he looked more tired, there was a certain mournful air that clung to his skin and radiated off of him. you picked up on it immediately, frowning at him and pulling him off to the side even when he was busy, “are you okay?” 

“what?” his saliva feels thick in his mouth, like globs of nectar that feel poisonous underneath their sweet skin. 

“i said— luke, what’s going on?“ you can’t deny how he seems to be out of order on everything, he was even fighting angrier, too, with a revengeful glint in his eye. 

“i really, really don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“yes, you do.” 

and it only got weirder from there, on the third day, he looked straight up exhausted, like he hadn’t slept the past two nights, and now he was being told to take a break from sword fighting because of how rough he was being. smiles were common from him now but cut off quick, and laughs became rare. he wasn’t trying to make anyone else around him smile or laugh, and he always just looked angry, guilty angry. 

when you waved at him, he didn’t wave back, nor approach you. 

he didn’t want to speak to anyone, so he just didn’t talk. 

he’s suffering from something, you just don’t know what, and whenever you asked him, he shrugged it off with, “i’m just tired.” 

“i know, you look really tired, luke, do you need melatonin?” 

his teeth grit together, and the taste of nectar in his mouth had disappeared, now it was all just bitter poison, “i need to be left alone.” 

“luke—“ 

“please leave me be.” 

if anyone were to ask you now, they’d know you regret leaving that night, not forcing him to speak about it with you. the next night, another camper told you about what luke had done, and you hate the way you don’t feel entirely shocked, not even a little bit, not even at all. 

luke castellan had a fig tree branching out in front of him, so many possibilities, so many stories to be told, and yet his fingers wrapped around the only rotten fruit on the whole ripe tree. two thousand years ago, there was a man exactly like luke, one who went by the name judas, and in luke’s complete distaste of the bible and anything to do with it— he found himself undeniably following the same path of the man who betrayed jesus. 

“ i desire the things

that will destroy me

in the end ”

  — sylvia plath. 

it was a bad idea to seek out luke that night, you knew it well, and luke knew it too when he frowned at you almost immediately after seeing you. he was still in the woods, only alone now, closer to the shore, closer to the riper fig that called his name— the one labeled captain. 

“why are you here?“ his tone is sharper, harsher, but you don’t shy away. 

“why’d you do it?” you watch him visibly swallow at the question, as if he doesn’t want to answer it, even when it’s on the tip of his tongue, but for some reason it would hurt to say out loud. 

he bites the bullet, “you know— the gods, they’re awful, don’t you think they deserve this?“ 

“is that where your heart lies?” the question seems to scorch his skin more than the last, because it’s just a continuous waking to what he’s truly done, how the prophecy haunts him even in his desperate attempts to evade it. 

“i’ve suffered enough, because of them, because of him— so yes, that is where it lies.” 

“you think your suffering is just a one way street?” you pester, anger bubbling in your veins— this was selfish, entirely selfish, he was never the selfless man you once knew, this wasn’t the luke you knew, “it’s not, it wasn’t— you had the chance, luke, to deprive yourself from it.” 

“are you just here to lecture me?” luke’s jaw locks. 

“why are you being like this?” 

luke’s eyebrow twitches, as if he’s mentally debating saying it out loud, but albeit all odds, his lips part, “why don’t you ask that guy you’ve been hanging out with?” 

“what?” it’s hard to realize certain things when you’ve been so focused on one person, you were so caught up on your fears for luke you didn’t even realize that the whole time you were thinking of him, you were blatantly speaking with another man in front of his eyes. 

to the trained eye, they’d know you never had any real feelings for the man you spoke with, but luke was too blinded by his own guilt and resentment that he didn’t realize it himself. it was a wild string of miscommunications formed into a single spider’s web, exactly like judas’ betrayal of jesus. 

INTERLUDE : JUDAS ISCARIOT ( A STUDY ) 

judas iscariot is often portrayed as the traitor in the story, fueled by greed and his resentment that jesus has something he never will. in the original story, judas is put in the narrative as satan’s pawn, judas’ fate is already written down, and he has no way of pushing it back. satan selects him from a group as he is weak, easily moved, and satan had possessed him body and soul and lived out his personal purpose through the vessel. 

the son of perdition : the one doomed to destruction. 

god personally protected all of his other saints from satan, so why not judas? why was judas never enough? was he never righteous enough to be saved? jesus loved him, jesus held his face in his holy hands, and yet he never shielded him. 

judas is a pawn, a thief, a coward, and a denier of the lord. 

judas, in all fairness, is the spitting image of luke castellan. 

“is it ever anybody else, luke?” 

as if arrow met skin, luke’s brows furrow together like you’ve hit him. 

there’s a pause, a deafening silence. 

“i miss you,” you speak again. 

luke’s nose crinkles, “uh-huh.” 

“i miss you, luke.” 

luke castellan is going to hell tonight, he’s going to be scorched in the underworld, so he bites his tongue and he moves in. the kiss is angry, teeth clashing, tongues twisting, lips bruising, but luke wouldn’t want it any other way. he wonders that if, in this kiss, do you forgive him? having been someone praised by the gods, the favored one, did you forgive the one who seemingly betrayed them to most? 

the kiss says how could you? and i’m sorry at the exact same time. 

his hands are quick to grip on your skin like you were his lifeline, tugging you in closer, and smiling against your lips when you melt into his touch so easily. you knew how cruel of a man he was, all the things he did wrong, all the people he had hurt— and yet you’re easing against him like he’s a saint. 

his teeth show his hunger well, nipping at your lip until you hiss and pull away with blood bubbling from a fresh wound. at first, he wants to smile, but he finds some mercy, moving his hand to hold your chin, thumb smudging the blood, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to, swear.” 

you knew he was lying, you knew he wanted to see you bleed, he liked the way your skin trembled under his touch, the way that even when shock dilates your pupils— you don’t want to pull away from him. in fact, something about it is oddly attractive to you, how sick is that. 

his other hand grips your waist, fingers curling cruelly, “could i..” 

undress you? touch you? luke isn’t sure of the proper words, they sit on the tip of his tongue, but something has him too afraid to say it so bluntly. that’s ironic, considering he didn’t hesitate to steal and lie. luke was still the loser he’s always been, deep down, he’s never known how to actually speak to women. 

you knew this well, it was something you always made fun of him for, but now you only smile sweetly at him. “of course, luke.” 

luke’s hands are desperate when they move to take off your clothes, quick and ruthless, but still so caring at the same time. it was confusing with luke, everything he did had two different sides that would merge together in an unlikely unison. harsh and gentle, bitter and sweet, mean and kind. 

his brows furrow when he dips in, pressing his lips to the skin of your neck, pushing you back into the scratching bark of the tree behind you. adam and eve, right after the bites of the apple offered to them. luke wants to sink his teeth into you, to bite until he draws blood, to devour you whole and call you his. 

that’s… normal, right? 

he doesn’t care, he’s only focused on the shallow breaths that pass by your lips with every scrape of his teeth on the skin being pulled between his lips. his fingers lead themselves further, dipping below the waistband of your underwear and further until you’re gasping and gripping at his wrist. 

“luke.. luke,” you plead, whimpering out for his fingers to have some mercy on your clit— luke ignores you, focused on the pleasure that’s coursing underneath your skin. he memorizes the thump of your pulse against his lips on your neck, the way it speeds up when his fingers dare to graze your entrance. you want it so bad, and it’s taking everything in luke to not be a cocky asshole about it. 

he eventually pulls away from your neck to admire his work, “have you always wanted me to touch you like this?” 

there’s something so poetic about someone who has betrayed the gods you love the most, ruining you. you truly could be awarded for how much you worshiped them, so unlike to everyone around you. they thought their parents were like anybody else, albeit just a little cooler, but you— you felt like a prophet. 

maybe you were, maybe luke was. 

maybe when the oracle whispered the prophecy she mentioned the fall of a saint, and the way he tugged another down with him. 

you look at him fondly, lips parted and puffy from biting, “always.. please.” 

please ; a simple plea, but it makes luke grin like a devil. his eyes follow your hands when you move to undo his belt, tugging at his jeans as if his fingers aren’t making your knees buckle. luke licks his lips, and finally allows you some mercy when his fingers leave your underwear, although you frown from the loss of friction. “i’ll make it up to you, yeah?” 

luke’s boxers and jeans are falling to the floor in seconds, he stifles a chuckle at your shocked expression to his size, only growing cockier and cockier with each second of this ordeal. it reaches it’s peak when he’s pushing into you, hand on your thigh holding up your leg with ease. 

his nose brushes against your cheek, whispering sweet nothings in between faint grunts with each thrust. you’re so pretty, always dreamed of this, better pray the gods aren’t watching. the last comment should piss you off, but it doesn’t, not at all— in fact, it only makes you wetter, the idea that the people you have given everything for are watching you being fucked by someone who despises them. 

his free hand moves up to your neck, wrapping around the bruised skin there, and gripping it enough to barely constrict your air flow. 

due to the choking, and the force of his thrusts, along with all his taunting words, it doesn’t take long for you to cum on his dick— and he doesn’t last long either. 

he finds himself panting against you, slowly pushing out. 

“you really should pray for forgiveness.” 

hi :3 can i req fem!reader dryhumping w euronymous and he’s just being mean 😵‍💫 i love when he’s being mean

ooh this one got my brain working!!

"grinding in the pale moonlight." | euronymous

body electric. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @livingdead-reilly @oliviah-25 @lankysimp @auggiethecreator @livingdead-materialgirl @monkeyfart

female!reader x euronymous

word count: 861

contents: fighintg (verbal), dry humping, degradation, orgasm denial

a late-night argument held a bundle of potential for a much-needed release to the sexual tension that had been building up between you two. you stormed out of the kitchen with euronymous coming up behind with just as much fury.

this was your third fight of the week and it was only tuesday. with every argument, you couldn’t tell whether it was burning hatred or desire growing inside of you. everytime he spat out a smart remark or made a rude gesture, you wanted to shut him up with whatever it took.

he grabbed your shoulder, spinning you around and pinning your back to the wall, bringing his face right to yours. his glare burned a hole into your soul, but you mirrored his stare, refusing to show even the slightest sign of weakness. he speaks to you in a low voice, clearly trying to intimidate you. “tell me, darlin’: when did you become nothing but a massive pain in my ass?” he brings his hand to your neck, pushing you back a little more.

you shoved him off of you with more force than he’d expect, earning a snarl from him. “and when did you become so fuckin’ mean?!” his pale cheeks flushed brick-red, highlighting the anger that was brewing in his blood. he got a hold of you again, but you fought under his grip, desperately trying to free yourself from his grip.

“let go of me!” he sneered. “or what? you gonna hurt me or somethin’, doll?” you stopped moving for a second, taking a moment to shoot him with a bitter glare. you mutter something under your breath, quietly but he could detect every word you said. he tightened his hands around your wrists, staring you down.

“wanna repeat that?” his words were sweet but his tone dripped with malevolence. you turned your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. “last chance, darling.” 

your cheeks flushed as he taunted you. you couldnt give him the reaction that he was craving, so you ended the arguement with one last remark. “fuck you.” you shoved him away, sending him back a few feet before plopping down on the couch, an angry pout resting on your face.

he uprighted himself, managing to hold back his anger as he made his way back to you, a little grin on his face. he sat beside you, pressing against you just enough to get your heart racing.

before you had a second to think, he already had you pulled onto his lap, your crotch resting on the raging boner that pressed against his jeans. he met your gaze with hunger eyes. his voice came out as a raspy breath as he spoke to you.

“i’d be lying if i said i hated fighting with you… it only makes me want to do so much more to that mouth of yours.” as he spoke, he ran his hands up and down your thighs, making sure to brush his thumbs over your clothed clit.

a short gasp slipped from your parted lips as his bulge pressed against you at the perfect angle with just the right amount of pressure. he chuckled softly, pushing himself into you just a little more before wrapping his hand around your neck. he grabbed your hips and started moving you on him, using your body to pleasure his clothed cock.

each slight movement caused your body to heat up, the wet patch under your shorts spreading by the second. though he tried his best to keep his moody disposition, you took note of his shaky breath and soft whimpers, feeling as his bulge throbbed underneath you. you clasped a hand over your mouth to suppress your noises, but he snatched your wrist away.

he chuckled darkly. “oh, now you want to quiet, huh? try it, bitch.” you wanted to give him a piece of your mind for his harsh words, but his gentle, hypnotic movements captured those thoughts and stopped them in their tracks, leaving your mind completely blank. 

his eyes traced down to where your bodies connected, gazing at the wet spot that had formed on his pants. ironically, he teased you for being so desperate when he was already leaking through his fabric. he subtly bucked his hips into yours, trying to get as much friction as he could while still maintaining his self-control.

you rutted your hips downward, your dripping cunt getting more sensitive with each waking moment, you didn’t even care how you looked right now. the sensations travelling through you prevented any logical thought from passing through your brain. through breathless gasps, euronymous taunted you once again. “y-yeah, you desperate little whore…”

you felt his cock started to twitch, even through the many layers that were in between you two. he had a firm grip on your clothed ass, surely tight enough to leave crescent-shaped marks all over it. you wrapped an arm around his neck as your moans crescendoed throughout the room, alerting all unsuspecting neighbours of your current activities.

the closer he got to reaching a climax, the more insults he threw out at you, clearly to mask the effects of the stimulation he was getting. “l-look at you, s-so desperate to cum, hm? you’re lucky i’m even letting you cum tonight.” you squeezed your legs around him, causing him to swallow a low groan as he threw his head back.

the pleasure was becoming overwhelming, even for him. the mix of friction and pressure was perfect, just enough to draw out beads of thick precum from his tip as he saturated his trousers with his liquids. 

the closer he got to an orgasm, the louder his strained groans became. his grip on your hips and waist became looser as his hands began to tremble. it was almost amusing what could happen to him whenever he got so drunk on your pussy. he gripped your thigh tightly as his body shook from his orgasm, warm moisture filling the space in between you.

while he came, he used you to drag out his orgasm, draining out every last drop. he wheezed as he came down from his high, needing a moment to recover. he took one final look at you before tossing you off of his lap, standing up and dusting himself off before walking away. but not before flipping you off one more time.

author's note: thank you for the request! its been a long time since I've written anything for euro. this was definitely a good refresher :))

« Importance || Peter B Parker ||

A/n: this was gonna be fore Miguel but I decided it fit Peter a bit better.

Prompt used:

Holding your jacket over your lover’s head as they hide from the rain, finding their formal outfit more important than your casual wear.

Peter knew he messed up when he ended the relationship with you, he couldn’t help but feel bitter when MJ informed him of your new relationship with Harry.

He thought the two we’re friends, that you were off limits but then again he fucked that relationship up too but if you were happy then he could be happy too, right?

Wrong. Miles may have given him the boost of confidence he needed but he wasn’t about to run up to you to confess that he still loved you and that he was an idiot that messed up. Though it seemed that the universe had other plans for him because he never expected to see you standing outside an awning wearing an elegant dress. You hadn’t spotted him of course, you were to busy yelling at someone on your phone.

He knew he shouldn’t butt in, that he should just keep his head hung low and be on his merry way but then it started to rain and you started to curse.

After hanging up on Harry you were about to step out onto the streets until it started to rain, though that was putting it nicely.

Hearing your name being called your eyes went wide for a moment. Peters name falling off your lips in a single breath, you didn’t expect to see him again. You hated the feeling of how your heart lurched, you hated knowing how you still felt the same way for him. “Peter you look good, though you might want to step out of the rain.”

Quickly making his way by your side the man let out a nervous laugh running his fingers through his wet hair. “Ah thanks…you look great, you look wow, you look beautiful.”

Feeling your cheeks warm you averted your eyes for a moment. “Thank you Peter….um I…I should really get home…this looks like it’s going to last all night and I have a feeling I’m going to be soaked…god I spent so much money on this stupid dress.” You muttered.

Opening his mouth for a moment, Peter quickly slipped off his jacket covering you head. “I’ll walk you the rest of the way….I don’t mind.”

Chuckling for a moment you stepped closer to Peters’s side. Still the same sweet man you feel for all those years ago and knowing that he won’t take no for an answer you grasped his hand. “Okay…shall we.”

It was a quiet walk, minus the rain hitting the side walk though you hated the silence. “Me and Harry are done.”

“What?!” Peter hadn’t been paying much attention, he was doing his best to keep you dry. “Shit….I’m sorry.”

“He cheated on me, confessed after our date….apparently he felt guilty. It was a one time thing, it’s who I was yelling at…and wow I’m sorry for dumping all of that on you” though you were grateful that you managed to get back to your little apartment.

Frowning, Peter adverted his eyes. He hated seeing you look so sad. He hated that Harry even had the chance to hurt you because he blamed himself, what could he even say to you.

‘I’m sorry? Ya that’s real nice.’

“Peter you’re talking to yourself?” Placing you hand on his door knob you squeezed it. “It was a little cute though…I.” Biting your lip smoothed out your dress thankfully it was still dry thanks to Peters efforts.

“Shit..I..Okay I’m gonna go. I….I still have the same number if you ever want to hang out and I’m going to stop talking so I’ll stop making an even bigger ass out of myself.”

Shaking your head you grasped his hand before he could leave. “Would you like to come in an dry off?”

“I..”Straighten his back, he gave you a smile. “I’d love too.”

so happy for you about the qpr!! that’s just wonderful news! wishing u all the best <3

Thankyou! I truly appreciate your sweet words. 

I want to use this as an opportunity to talk about how this non-traditional relationship came to be - mostly because I love talking about him, but also because I feel queerplatonic relationships need to be talked about more! 

So, what is a queerplatonic relationship? It isn’t really one specific type of relationship with a strictly defined set of rules or boundaries. It is an umbrella term for “non-romantic significant-other relationships”… so, emotionally intimate relationships that fall neither into the category of a “typical romantic relationship” nor into the category of a “typical platonic friendship”. This is not so much about behavior but about the feelings of the people involved. The way one queerplatonic relationship looks like  (activities, language, touch, future planning etc.) can be completely different from the next, it’s all about what works for you! 

The term “queerplatonic relationship” (or qpr) originated in the aromantic community, but you don’t need to be aromantic to be in one. 

I am not aromantic, Alex (name changed for privacy) is. When we met, I didn’t know that yet. We met online. Not on a dating app, we just found each other over shared interests, so romance wasn’t on my mind. We became online friends and found out we actually live close to each other. As time went on, I felt like there was a lot of chemistry and some mutual attempts of awkward flirting, so I decided to ask him on a date. And he said yes! 

We grew closer, my feelings for him grew and quite honestly, in the deep corners of my heart it was already a fact that we would become a couple. We didn’t call each other boyfriend yet but it was only a matter of making it official. Really just a matter of asking… and so it hit me like a brick when I scrolled through social media and saw him coming out as aromantic. 

I’ll admit that I didn’t handle it well. I felt blindsided by him not telling me directly and carried this feeling into our conversation about it which led to it not going well. I should’ve given him time to explain and given us space to figure out together what this means for us. If I did, I would’ve learned that it was a new realization for him as well and that he himself was not sure yet what it meant - but I didn’t. I jumped to assumptions and felt bitter about them. 

After fruitless discussions turned into a fight, we made the hard decision to stop talking. We were both heartbroken about it but it just seemed like a situation with no solution. He didn’t want a traditional romantic relationship, I didn’t want a traditional friendship. We did briefly talk about a queerplatonic relationship but we both couldn’t imagine how that’d work. Would that essentially just be a traditional relationship/friendship by a different name? 

For two weeks, I cried into my ice cream. Kept checking his social media secretly even though we mutually agreed to unfollow each other before the split. Went back on dating apps and went out on a virtual date with the first poor guy who said yes and hated every second of it. Texted Alex about it in some shitty attempt to make him jealous. Cried some more. Until I found a list in my notes that I had made months earlier, with all the things I like about him. 

This list made me think I can’t lose him like this - I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him in my life at all. I sent him the list and was relieved to learn that he missed me just as much. After some (much more mature) discussion, we agreed to just be platonic friends. 

One of the first “normal ” conversations we had after our split - normal meaning a topic that wasn’t related to attraction or identity or relationship status - was just us talking about a tv show he used to watch as a kid. This has become a fond memory of a realization that is hard to put in words: I’ve always been someone who wants clear definitions and labels. But there’s beauty in things being undefined as well. In that moment, we weren’t a specific label. We were just us. And us, our unique dynamic, is what I fell in love with - regardless of how we name it. 

So, we named it friends and that worked great. But one thing kept bothering me: With a friend, even a best friend, it’d be silently assumed that you may pursue other people romantically. You can have a best friend and a boyfriend, you’re not taken by your best friend. This wasn’t a matter of jealousy - Alex wasn’t interested in pursuing other people romantically anyway and I don’t mind that he has other close friends. This was about me, not him. I didn’t want this to be a situation where I’m assumed to potentially pursue others. I want to be taken because that’s how I feel. I’m not open to dating someone else, Alex is my significant other even when it’s not a traditional romantic relationship. 

I reached out to other aromantic people online and talked to them about these feelings. They encouraged me to talk to him about this and suggest an individually defined relationship to him - one that isn’t based in romance but has the level of commitment I feel. Communication is key, they said, you two can set your own rules. 

And that’s exactly what we did! I wrote him a letter and put these feelings to paper, and asked him if he wants to have an individually defined relationship with me, be my friend I’m in love with and am committed to, and he said yes! 

(We don’t usually use the term queerplatonic in our everyday conversations, I just use it as a practical umbrella term here - we like to keep it a undefined unique relationship status) 

Could you do the Earthrealm champions being invited by GN!reader to dance with them in a video?

If you need song ideas for this request, I got you covered:

Bet y’all ain’t know I like K-pop. Expect the unexpected. My internet is being dumb asf and I cannot add gifs so you’re getting dumb pictures I found on Pinterest

Johnny Cage

“I’m a star sweetheart, I don’t have time for silly videos”

*Proceeds to dance with passion*

Johnny cannot take shit seriously so if you think he’d be too proud to do a little dance for a video, you’re smoking 

He probably wears something way over the top for the video as if he’s actually performing for a crowd 

I don’t think Johnny is a natural dancer but he makes do. He probably practices to make sure he doesn’t look stupid and you’ll have to record the video multiple times until he’s satisfied 

“I don’t like that one or that one or that one or-” “I’m gonna find a new partner. Oh my gosh”

Honestly I think he has more fun than you

“I think I should add ‘dancer’ to my lists of talents”

He probably asks to do it again

Idk if I see Johnny being into K-pop but the interest would start here and spiral 

I also feel like he enjoys dances from girl groups more than boy groups. I once again don’t know why I think this way but it makes sense in my head 

Likes more simple dances. It keeps the focus on his pretty face and outfits 

“I think I’d be fantastic in a girl group” “Ok Johnny”

It’s giving “nurse! He’s out again!”

He has a new hyperfixation now. I hope you’re proud of yourself 

Favorite thing to dance to is Cupid by Fifty Fifty 

Kenshi Takahashi 

Only does it because you asked him to, and even then he doesn’t really want to 

He doesn’t hate dancing but he just doesn’t do it 

Considering he escaped from the Yakuza, him being in a video with you isn’t the best idea. You can call him paranoid. He calls himself careful. 

When he finally agrees, he's wearing the most obnoxious get up; hoodie, sweatpants, a hat, glasses, a mask and gloves. It's so no one can know who he is, but who in the Yakuza is randomly watching dance videos?

He won't change his mind though and wears it all.

You have to do an easy dance otherwise he'll sweat himself to death 

I don't see him going out of his way to do it again. It was alright to him. He's not big on dancing so learning a dance then doing it wasn't the best way to spend his time. Also he was extremely sweaty so he's not tryna do it again 

He will if you ask, but he won't bring it up first 

He's trying to not be noticed but people can't help but notice him 

I feel like he favors boy groups only slightly. Favorite thing to dance to is Still 24K by 24K but only the chorus because once again, sweat and heat. And YES I picked 24K because I'm never letting their name die. I miss them 

Kung Lao

“I have better things to do, like training new recruits at the Academy” “If you're too scared of me dancing better than you, just say that”

He learns the dance that night 

He's competitive so what's supposed to be a sweet couples thing, turns serious 

Wants to do a hard dance just to prove how great he is even if it's stupid 

Legit is angrily typing “hard kpop dances” and picking one at random 

He has you ask the audience to comment who danced better or do a poll

If he wins, he's ecstatic and wants to continue showing off. If he loses, he's bitter. The vote was rigged. Real “Stop the count!” type shit 

If he loses he wants to do it again so he can do better. He legit can't let it go. The problem is he keeps diving into hard ass dances and refuses to start simple 

You have to pry his hands off the keyboard and help him pick something simple 

Once he stops being stubborn then you two can actually have fun. Dancing can become a regular thing, but he's gonna keep making it a challenge 

In his eyes, he always wins 

Idk if he has a preference for boy or girl groups. I'll say his favorite thing to dance to is Monster by Exo because I feel like he'd want to do Chanyeol's jump 

Raiden

I think he'd be shy at first. Super Shy if you will 

He doesn't wanna fuck it up, yk? After being told it's not that deep and it's just for fun, he agrees 

Besides Johnny, he's probably having the most fun. I feel like he enjoys spending time with the people he cares about and this is doing just that 

Wants to do it again because it's spending time with you and it makes you happy 

Before I even end this, he's a girl group stan and I'm standing on it

Idk why but I think he'd like 4Minute and I'm not changing my mind. He'd be bummed they're not together anymore 

Honestly, his favorite groups have probably all disbanded or are on hiatus. He's not having a good time 

“I like 4Minute” “disbanded” “2NE1?” “disbanded” “Miss A?” “disbanded” “CLC?” “I don't think they're disbanded but they're doing their own thing” “I hate my life”

I just feel like he'd have bad luck 

Dancing becomes a new hobby though. He can't always be getting rid of threats. 

Mainly does it with you 

His favorite thing to dance to is Whatcha Doin’ Today by 4Minute. Honestly I can see that being his favorite song which is a real shame cause I think his favorite would be Jihyun and she got like, one line (I'm projecting)

Liu Kang 

Big problem with your plan. He has glowing eyes and shades hardly dull them. How's he gonna hide that? 

With TWO pairs of shades of course 

I think he'd be reluctant to make the video because his existence isn't supposed to be known by random people 

He'd be willing to dance with you alone, he's just not sure about the video and he won't be sure until you come up with a good idea that'll get rid of that problem 

You can post it on your close friends though. They make sense 

I feel like he'd like dancing to some random ass unknown group from the 80s or 90s. Who even are these people?

He did watch as civilization grew so he's seen tons of groups form and disband so I guess it's not surprising he knows smaller groups. 

Idk if he'd have a preference for boy groups or girl groups. If it's good music, it's good music 

I don't think it'd become a new hobby for him. He's not reluctant about it like Kenshi, it just doesn't interest him as much as you'd like 

He makes it known he's doing this for you. Not in an asshole way, but in a “I really like when you're happy” type of way 

I'm NOT looking up old ass groups just for this so imma say his favorite thing to dance to is Kard in general. Why? Idk. I’m spreading an agenda

I wanna write more MK1 intros but I’m brain empty. I’m miserable This was also short. My bad anon. Everyone has around 230 words

Sweet… and bitter.

Summary: A sweet embrace (Xiao), and a bitter spiral (Scara)

Warnings: Cult AU, first half is very wholesome. Pure fluff! Second half includes spiraling thoughts, and implied murder. Scara is a yandere, or pretty close to it!

The flowers around you swayed gently in the breeze, as you breathed in the slight scent of Qinxin. You smiled, as you held one of the delicate flowers in your hand. Twirling it around, you slowly brought it closer to Xiao’s face. The adeptus frowned, confused by your action.

“Your Grace… what is the meaning of this?” He asked, his golden eyes swirling with curiosity, and a mix of anxiety. He truly didn’t wish to disappoint you, if this was some strange human tradition he was unaware of.

You chuckled, as you brought the Qinxin up to the soft teal tufts of hair on his head. With a gentle motion, you swiftly placed it in his hair, before he could protest. You smiled, admiring your work. It would be a shame to tear your eyes away from such a lovely sight… the light dust of pink forming across Xiao’s face, combined with the pale petals of the Qingxin. Truly a shame… especially when it suited your dear acolyte perfectly.

“Perfect…” you whispered, as you leaned in and brushed your thumb over his cheek. Your soft smile sent his mind into a frenzy, causing him to immediately debate what to do in response. Should he back away? No, that would be disrespectful… He could always smile back, but he didn’t have the confidence for that, especially in the presence of The Creator.

Xiao’s face got darker with the passing seconds, as he was suddenly reminded of how long he was taking to respond. His lips parted, and he let out a soft sound that sounded akin to the beginnings of a word.

“A-ah… um…”

How embarrassing… he couldn’t even form an intelligible response, from just slightest hint of your affection. It was always that way… you were just so overwhelming. So overwhelmingly beautiful, and sweet to him. Similar to the late nights when he’d imagine you next to him, gently stroking his hair as he recovered from the mind breaking bliss he’d brought himself, as he imagined what would happen if you ever saw him as something more than just one of your worshippers.

“Oh my, don’t tell me you’re thinking of something else right now. Your face is awfully red…”

Your words snapped him out of the memory, as he stuttered heavily in response. He simply couldn’t remember a time where he’d been this mortified. Not even in his 2000 years of life.

“Uh… you see… ahem. The adepti do not think of such impure acts.”

He spoke sternly, even though his cheeks remained in a cute shade of pink. His tone cracked at the end though, further confirming your suspicions. You decided to tease him a bit more, leaning in until your soft lips brushed against the shell of his ear.

“Is that so? I find that hard to believe, especially when I can see… how you got quite worked up about something.”

Your eyes trailed down to his lap, pointing out how he was visually aroused. Xiao blushed harder, if that was even possible at this point. He always hated it when you teased him, because it would only elevate whatever he was feeling in the moment.

“…My apologies.” He murmured, looking off to the side, in a futile effort to avoid your gaze. “I-I shouldn’t be responding in this way. Not in your presence, Your Grace.”

Your hand reached out to cup his face, slowly angling it back to make him look straight at you. Your face had a warm smile on it, reassuring and serene, although it did little to quell his worries.

“Xiao, I don’t think I’d mind if you respond in this way. Don’t you know that I favor you? That I… prefer your company over most?”

Your words took a few seconds to register, as his eyes flew open in shock. All of those times you had asked for him to be near, or simply sit with you outside… it wasn’t because you wanted him to protect you.

Oh.

You… wanted him.

As… a person? Not just as a weapon to be used and discarded, and not as some kind of accessory to be owned.

And that gentle, kind smile of yours, combined with the way you were patiently waiting for him to process your words? Too overwhelming… he wasn’t used to being cared for like this. His eyes grew watery, as his emotions swelled within him. Waves of happiness, combined with an even greater feeling of thankfulness overwhelmed his mind. You were too good to him… such a benevolent god for even caring for someone like him.

“Y-your Grace…” Xiao choked out, as tears streamed down his pale cheeks. He appeared to be torn between wanting to feverishly press his lips against yours, and wanting to cling onto you as a way of grounding himself.

Before another tear could streak down his face, those plush lips of yours were against his, in a comforting exchange. His arms wrapped around you, as he returned it wholeheartedly, still in disbelief that this was even happening. He didn’t let go, not even for a second. After a few moments of pure passion, you pulled back, just enough to speak.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that, sweetheart.”

Your smile widened, as you pressed another kiss to his forehead.

“You wouldn’t mind if I were to call you that, hm?”

The only response you got was a stiff nod, as he quickly latched onto your body again. This time, he rested his head on your chest, in an attempt to hide his face. You laughed, hugging him back. He was just… too endearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A distance away, a soft clatter sounded through the clearing. What was intended to be green tea for two now lay on the ground… with the pot and cups shattered into many pieces. The path gradually soaked up the now cooling tea, as the puppet stood there in silence.

A tense atmosphere filled the area, as he observed you embracing Xiao.

This feeling… it was jealousy.

Pure and unbridled jealousy, as Scara narrowed his eyes at that pathetic and insignificant “adeptus” from afar. How dare he steal your attention. How dare he waste your precious time, when it could be spent with him instead?

Why would you even want to while away your time with such a weakling?!

Scara’s nails dug into his hands, as he continued staring at the two of you from a distance. Karmic debt? What a joke. If anything, that was likely a mere lie intended to steal your attention away from him. To make you fret and give your divine presence to Xiao.

You were too kind for your own good, always bound to fall for the simplest of tricks if it meant helping another person. Such a kind god… one that would be oh so easy to manipulate.

The thought only amplified his feelings… this meant that the other man was taking advantage of you.

Disgraceful.

He wouldn’t allow it. Nobody would hurt you, physically or emotionally, especially after all that you’ve done for him.

Scara’s hand reached up to readjust his hat, effectively shielding his eyes from view. He would take care of this, one way or another.

That’s what a good puppet is supposed to do, isn’t it? To serve it’s master to the extent of it’s abilities.

It doesn’t matter if he gets a bit bloody in the process.

A small smirk formed on his lips, as he contemplated his next move… he wasn’t going to let that degenerate get off easy.

After all, washing blood off synthetic skin has never been an issue.

From what I gather, people tend to dislike Riptide because he’s just kind of some guy. He’s just awfully average. He’s only really describable vaguely because his personality isn’t very loud or well-spoken for. Next to Tsunami, he ends up hitting kind of dull, simply because she’s louder and bolder and, for the duration of her book, has a lot of other, more important shit she has to be getting to.

Ultimately, though, I like Riptide as much as I do because of these elements. I think he’s an interesting balance to the characters presented in Book 2, and I think he’s incredibly interesting as a love interest to Tsunami.

Riptide doesn’t really seem to aspire for much; nothing like the grand, sweeping, war-ending efforts of the DoD. He joins the Talons for information on his dad, which is perfectly understandable given that he was a dragonet when he did it, had no reason to believe they were abusing children under a mountain somewhere, and was already orphaned for the crime of being related to his deadbeat father.

He’s uniquely hated by, and also works for, a Queen known for flying off the handle and brutalizing guards in the main foyer. His simplicity in response to horrific circumstance is frankly compelling to me.

The fact that he remains a generally sweet, amicable person is interesting simply because I’d argue he has every right to be so much more bitter than he is. The quiet half-lengths of his personality make sense for someone who kind of necessitates the background, when his boss would happily kill him without second thought if she found the given impulse at any moment. Tending to omit information is an understandable practice if you’re kind of expecting to live with the guillotine above your head.

Maybe I’m just aromantic, and so I’m missing some secret element to romance writing that all the allos are keeping from me, but I didn’t really need more of Ripnami to be sold of the dynamic. They’re young love, they’re allowed to be fast to me. They don’t have to be built to last, but I think they’re cute if they or for however long they do. And frankly, I think Book 2 is incredibly well paced. It’s a mystery narrative, there’s not much time to get her kisses in while Tsunami’s solving what’s up with that murder statue.

Riptide’s presence in the book did sell me on the two of them though. In direct contrast to Coral, where Tsunami is her own DAUGHTER, Riptide simply… Trusts Tsunami’s competency and ability. At every turn. Yet he keeps information from her, as previously mentioned, but in every case where she’s had to strike out on her own in that book, he’s simply gone, “Okay. Stay Safe. I Believe In You.”

When Coral’s the most other prevalent relationship in the Sea Kingdom at that point-beyond Anemone who’s baby leashed and isn’t even allowed much in the way of her own personal opinion with Coral almost always around-It’s so important for Tsunami to have someone who wholesale believed in her abilities. After being loomed by the constant guilt and questioning and doubt of the Arena and Starflight’s sudden shift in behavior, it’s especially important that Riptide always trusted her personal character at that.

I think it makes sense that the Talons deal wouldn’t be a dealbreaker for Tsunami. She’s brash and opinionated, not unreasonable. Riptide, as mentioned, joined the Talons as a dragonet, and was kept much in the dark about the details of the DoD. Tsunami’s not so hasty as to not understand where he’s coming from or be able to get over it, especially not about someone she comes to care about.

I especially like them because there’s nothing in Riptide’s simplicity that inherently asks Tsunami to “settle down”. Tsunami is not someone wanting for an easy life, and I think Riptide’s reworking of the Talons of Peace in junction with the Jade Academy makes a lot of sense. I understand that, Oh, Kids Book, returning readers will be so excited to see old characters in new series! But I do think Tsunami feels a little shoehorned in at the Academy, and I ultimately think her epilogue of Arc 1 being helping with the Talons effort would’ve made more sense; especially with how her outrage with the original Talons are so outspoken, a very “never let this be used to hurt anyone else like me” type ending for her would’ve been sweet I think. She doesn’t really ever seem the teaching type, not even when she’s actively trying to be in Arc 2.

I just think maybe people don’t give Riptide the time of day, which is unfortunate, because he’s one of my favorites. He doesn’t get much, but I think what we do see implicates a lot of interesting subtext to him.

All that said, he’s still better as a butch he/him lesbian, but that’s not because i think he’s bad as is I just am also a lesbian. hope this helps

Strong and Sweet – Garreth Weasley x GN!Reader

Summary: Modern coffee shop AU; The ever lovely Garreth Weasley catches your eye from behind the counter of your local cafe. Pure fluff.

A/n: Once I got this idea into my head, it would not leave, so here we are. It's been edited, but only lightly. This is genuinely the longest fic I've ever written, I'm usually a sucker for short and sweet, but not in this case. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral, but once again let me know if you catch a mistake. Also, the topic of the paper is incredibly self indulgent. With love, your friendly neighborhood anthro major <3

Word Count: 2897

You let out a sigh, fingers pressing almost painfully to your temples as you stared at the screen in front of you. You’d been trying to write this damned essay for hours, but the words didn’t seem to want to get out of your brain and onto the page. Not to mention that nearly every potential source you found was useless to you for one reason or another. 

The article currently open on your computer began to swim in front of your eyes, words blurring together as you tried to read them. As much as you wished you could take a break, you’d procrastinated this paper for far longer than you should have, and you were now to the point of questioning if you’d even be able to get it done before the due date. The due date, you realized, that was now only six hours away. Why’d your professor have to be special and make things due at 10pm on a Tuesday, instead of midnight on a Sunday like a normal person?

Dragging yourself out of your train of thought took more effort than you’d have liked as you once again tried to read through someone else’s science. You were slightly more successful this time, but once you’d gotten through the next three paragraphs, you let out a frustrated groan. There was no sense to this study–it ignored nearly all precedent and was trying to test a theory that anyone with common sense would know to be impossible. 

You slammed your computer shut in mild frustration and closed your eyes, taking a breath to calm yourself down, only for your meditation attempt to be interrupted by a familiar voice. 

“Careful now, doll. If you get much more frustrated you might start throwing things, and as much as I love having you here, I’d hate having to clean that up.” Your eyes open and you glance up to look at the redheaded boy standing over you

Your face relaxes as your gaze lands on him. You couldn’t be stressed when he was smiling at you like that.

The two of you had first met in this very coffee shop at the beginning of the term–him behind the register and you desperately needing some caffeine to get through your first week of classes.

“Give me something strong,” you’d said when you walked up, and he’d given you a playful salute in response.

“Yes ma’am, one americano coming right up.” 

His playful demeanor and charming smile had you grinning right back at him despite your exhaustion. When he’d handed you your drink, though, you couldn’t hide the grimace that crossed your face. You needed the caffeine, but boy did you hate the bitter taste that it left on your tongue.

“You should have told me you didn’t like it straight when I took your order.” You weren’t expecting to hear his voice and you looked back at him.

“I’m sorry?”

“You asked for something strong, but you didn’t have to take my first suggestion if you knew it wasn’t something you’d enjoy. Tell me what sorts of flavors you like and I can make you something you’ll actually drink.” You could tell he was eager to make you something new, though you weren’t sure if he actually wanted you to like it or if he just wanted to show off; either way, you rattled off your usual order, and some likes and dislikes, answering his questions when he asked and before you knew it you had a brand new cup in front of you.

This time when you took a sip, you practically moaned. It was spectacular. “How the hell did you do that? I don’t think I’ve ever had something this good in my life.”

His cheeky grin widened. “What can I say, I’m great at what I do. Though if you’d told me from the get-go that you like it strong and sweet, I could have just given you my number and been done with it.” His wink that followed sent flames through your cheeks and you’d turned your head to try and hide them.

Despite his flirtatious remark upon your initial meeting, nothing more had ever happened. Well, except for you developing one of the biggest crushes you think you’ve ever had in your entire life.

Against your better judgment (and to the chagrin of your wallet), you found yourself back in that cafe nearly every single day, always hoping to see his green eyes glittering at you from across the room. You knew the crush was stupid, but you didn’t blame yourself for it. How could you? It wasn’t your fault he was so ridiculously charming, and handsome, and kind. Nor was it your fault that he somehow always seemed to know exactly the drink you needed for your current mood–after that first day, you’d never had him hand you something unsavory again… well, at least that was intended to be enjoyable.

Every once in a while you’d come in during a particularly slow spell, when there was no one else around and Garreth–alongside his coworkers–were clearly extremely bored. It was days like these when you’d get to try his little experiments.

You’d see him furrow his brow, deep in thought, and then wander from place to place in the store, tossing various syrups, powders, and milks together in incredibly interesting combinations. Yes, interesting was definitely the word to describe them; sometimes they were spectacular, but other times… not so much.

“Oh my god, Gar, this is absolutely disgusting.” 

He had called you over a few moments prior, insisting you try his most recent mixture. You didn’t know what was in it, but it wasn’t good. It was almost slimy in texture, and the flavor certainly left something to be desired. Through your wince, you saw the twinkle in his eye. The bastard knew it wasn’t going to be good but he had you try it anyway.

Attempting to hide the grin that threatened to poke through, his face had twisted into a look of mock betrayal. “How could you say such a thing? I poured my heart and soul into this. You wound me, love.”

Your heart had nearly stopped at the nickname but you did your best to play it off, grinning at him. “Well, perhaps you should pour a little less of it next time, that might help with the texture issue.” He’d scoffed at you playfully, and the memory of his playful expression is still one of your favorites.

His expression was eerily similar as he stood beside your little table, eying the books you had spread about from your research. 

“Garreth! I didn’t realize you were here, I never saw you walk in.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been here for hours. I would’ve said hello earlier, but you looked focused and I didn’t want to bother you. However,” he paused, “it was about time for my break and I noticed you looked only inches away from violence, so I figured I should come intervene. Distract you with my relentless charm and all that.” His grin was contagious, and you found yourself smiling fondly at him.

“You should well know by now that I’m a pacifist,” you quipped back. “Violence would never be my first reaction. You wouldn’t have anything to worry about until after I’ve wallowed in self despair for at least 30 minutes.” He sat down in the chair opposite you and it’s not until he placed the cup and plate on the surface in front of you that you realized he’d been holding them. “What’s this?”

“A refill, and some sustenance. Figured you could use them, based on the fact that I haven’t seen you move in the entire time I’ve been here.” Your heart gives a little squeeze at the gesture as you take in the items. He had, in fact, brought you another coffee and the pastry that he by now knew to be your favorite.

“I can’t accept this, Garreth. I didn’t pay for them.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on the house. Don’t bother resisting, you know I won’t stop pestering you until you’ve eaten.” 

You relented with a sigh, taking a bite. “Happy now?” you mumbled.

He smirked at you. “Happier. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s frustrating you so much. Maybe clearing your mind of it will help you make some progress.”

You proceeded to rant to the ginger about the articles you’d been reading, the roadblocks you’d been encountering, and the various other issues you’d been having.

“I don’t know why it’s so difficult for people to have some common sense, y’know? It’s not so hard to realize ‘Hey, perhaps if you can’t sex an individual via this bone without population specific numbers, perhaps we shouldn’t try to sex an individual of an entirely different species.’ You’d think that’d be easy!” Garreth nodded along, a small smile playing at his lips. “And this one!” you gestured to an article on your computer, which you’d reopened part-way through your rant to show him evidence of your problems, “in this one, they try and argue that grave goods can be used to accurately sex an individual, which might be fine in some populations, but it’s a know fact that gender and sex variance is a common occurrence in this population.”

You finally paused to take a breath, and you realized that you didn’t really have much more to say. “And… and yeah that’s about it actually. There you have it.” You glanced up at his face, mildly surprised by the expression he harbored. It seemed to be a combination of amusement and… fondness?

“I do hope you know I don’t know what any of that means. Do you feel better though?” He rested his chin on his hand, hair falling just slightly in front of his face.

You immediately nodded in response. “Yeah, actually. Loads. Thanks.”

“My pleasure, love. Now, I do believe my break is over, so I should get back to it, but good luck on your paper. I believe in you.” A wink was sent in your direction before he turned and walked back behind the counter, deftly tying his apron behind his back.

With that, you dove back into writing. You were almost surprised at how much easier the words came to you now that you’d gotten all the swirling irritations out of your brain–before you knew it, you’d surpassed the page minimum, wrapped up all your thoughts, and read through it a few times to make sure there weren’t any errors. Thoroughly pleased with your work, you grinned and threw your hands up. “I’m done!” You turned your head around, searching for the smile Garreth was surely throwing in your direction. You weren’t surprised to find you were correct. “And with…” you turned back to check the time, “45 minutes to spare!”

Wait a second…

45 minutes to spare… that meant that it was 9:15. You turned to glare accusingly at Garreth.

“Don’t you guys close at 9?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “Technically, yeah. I was supposed to kick you out 15 minutes ago. But you looked so focused and I could tell you were close to done. I didn’t wanna be the reason you lost your stride. Besides,” his usual cocky grin came back to his face. “I’m not sure you could rob this place if you tried.”

The boy turned back to mopping the floor, ignoring your huffed “hey” in response. You began packing up your belongings in a hurry, trying to get out of his hair as quickly as possible. Despite your efforts, though, he had still managed to finish closing before you were completely ready to go. 

“I’m so sorry Gar, I really should have been paying closer attention to the time. I didn’t mean to be an imposition.” You rushed the words out as you exited the building in front of him. His only response at first was a small huff of amusement.

His words came a minute later as he turned back to lock the door to the building behind him. “As if you could ever be an imposition. Any time spent in your presence is time well spent.” You couldn’t even begin to process what those words meant as you took in the parking lot, empty except for one single car. A string of curses swiftly left your lips. If you’d thought yourself stupid earlier when you struggled to write your paper, it was nothing compared to how stupid you’d felt in that moment.

You’d completely forgotten that you’d taken the bus today. And in your time-blindness, you’d also forgotten that the bus stopped running at 8.

You glanced over at Garreth beside you, and let out a frustrated sigh at his barely concealed laughter. He knew that you sometimes took the bus, and by the lack of car in the parking lot belonging to you, it hadn’t taken him more than a moment to figure out what was going on.

“Don’t look so down, it’s not like I’d let you walk. Get in the car.” You immediately began protesting, not wanting to burden him any more than you already had this evening. “It wasn’t a question, get in the car. It’s too far back to campus for you to walk during the day, let alone at night. I’d be the world’s biggest asshole if I let a pretty individual walk home alone after dark. Get in.”

You conceded with a sigh, walking around to the passenger side door. “You think I’m pretty?” you grinned, trying to joke away the nerves you felt at getting in his car.

Sure, you’d become pretty close throughout the term, but your interactions had always, always been limited to that building. And now here you were, getting into a car with the guy you’d been crushing on for months. 

“If you’re just now noticing, then maybe you’re dumber than I gave you credit for,” came his snarky reply. He got in the car and grinned at you over the console. You hoped he couldn’t see your cheeks turn red in the dark. His gaze held yours for a beat too long and you looked away nervously. He cleared his throat before starting the car. “Where to?”

You directed him to your place, basking comfortably in the silence of the car in between instructions. Against your better efforts, though, you also found yourself staring at him. It was such an odd thing to find attractive, you thought, but the sight of him driving made your heart do a flip. 

You were admiring how his gentle features looked under the red of a stoplight when he turned to glance at you and caught you. “See something you like?” 

“And what if I do?” You replied, lips quirking into a smile. You had no idea where this bold streak came from, but you weren’t complaining. He didn’t reply immediately, focused on turning into the parking lot of your building. He parked, and then turned to you. 

“I’m less concerned about the ‘what if you do’s and more concerned about the ‘what if you don’t’s if I’m being honest.” Your face twisted slightly in confusion as you tried to decipher his meaning.

“I- what? I don’t understand.” Stumbling over your words, it took you far longer than it should have to realize how much closer he’d gotten to you. 

“What I mean,” he said lowly, his voice barely above a whisper, “is that if you don’t, you need to tell me now because otherwise I’m about to do something really really stupid.”

Oh. Oh.

“Oh,” you said in reply. “I see.” You wet your lips nervously but didn’t move away from him, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips. “Well, there’s not really a good way to know if it’s stupid or not until you’ve done it.”

Apparently that was all the approval he needed, because the next thing you knew his lips were on yours and his hand was cupping the back of your neck and a low whine sounded in the back of your throat. This was happening. Oh my god this was happening.

He pulled back after a moment, panting just slightly. He was nervous, you realized. You’d almost never seen him nervous before, but right now, in this moment, you were sure that’s what the expression on his face was. 

You let out a soft giggle that apparently eased his nerves, causing him to break out into a wide smile and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, was it as stupid as I thought it was?”

“Verdict is still out,” you said with a grin. “I’ll have to let you know tomorrow. You work?” 

“Same time as usual, yeah.” He chuckled at the smile on your face as you unbuckled yourself from the car. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to let you know then. And maybe after you’re out, we could go get dinner or something. If the jury rules in your favor, that is.” You grin at him over your shoulder as you get out of the car.

The last thing Garreth sees as he pulls out of your lot is you pressing your fingers softly against your own lips, grinning like an idiot. And though he’d never admit it, in his head he was doing the same.

The door swung shut with a nudge from Akihiro’s heel. He dropped the grocery bags onto the counter with a sigh as he took in the intruding odour, the one thing about this island, he thought sourly, it simply wasn’t big enough if people could stroll into another’s house uninvited, though Akihiro doubted any distance would suffice when it came to Logan.

“What do you want, old man?” He didn’t bother turning to face his father, simply went about his business putting away the food and other nicknack’s he’d picked up in New York. If the old man wanted his attention he’d damn well have to go about it the right way and breaking into someone’s home was anything but right.

“To talk to ya son.”

Akihiro hated that. He hated even more that it still triggered him, his irritation only heightened at the soft tone Logan was using, the one he used for those simpering creatures Logan always had time for, time he never had for me, he thought savagely.

“How did you get in?” He asked, finally facing him.

Logan elbowed himself off the wall where he’d been looking out of the window. It was Laura’s favourite spot though she usually used a chair. “Laura let me in, said you wouldn’t be long.”

That annoyed him as well, perhaps a little irrationally but he didn’t like the idea of Logan talking to his sister when he wasn’t around, last time that happened she’s been dragged through hell and Akihiro almost lost her, again.

“Well here I am. Get on with it.” He flopped down into the armchair kicking his feet up on the table, Logan seemed to take this as an invite to get comfortable. He’d be sure to change that soon enough.

“It’s about Gabby-“

“What about her?” Akihiro sat up with a start, half rising from his chair. A slither of dread coiling itself around his heart. Logan flapped a had at him, dismissive.

“She’s fine, sit down. ‘am talkin’ about me son. Me and Gabby.”

This surprised him enough that he sat without complaint. “What?” He asked, baffled more than ever. “Since when has there been a ‘you and Gabby’, when did this start?” Akihiro could feel the heat rising in his face now that panic had subsided. Of all of them, Gabby had the least interaction with their father and Akihiro intended to keep it that way. Life was fucked up enough without him adding to it.

“That’s what ‘am here to talk about. I wanted-“

Akihiro laughed. Logan huffed in annoyance. Oh how perfect, all this time, all these years and suddenly daddykins has found a conscience. “I see where this is going-“

“If you’d let me finish-“

“You honestly think I’d let you come in here, fuck up the little bit of normalcy we’ve got because what? You’re guilt is creeping up on you, is it? Or is living with the Summers making you look bad?” He laughed again, a grin plastered on his face full of malicious humour.

For a moment Logan looked ashamed, for a moment Akihiro rejoiced in it. He’d grown in a lot of ways, thanks to Laura. He was better now, a better person, better brother maybe even a friend though he didn’t think he could be better at something he’d never even tried before but he was trying… for Laura. It was Laura who wanted him here, Laura who’s silent disapproval made him bite his tongue when he felt like giving someone hell and for Laura that he even tolerated Logan being in the same room as them but Laura wasn’t here now and she might never have been had Logan been left in charge. He hardened his heart to the piece of him that mourned what he never had, what Logan gave to everyone else but them, everyone but him. He smiled bitterly across at Logan. Bitter and broken because that’s what Logan made him and he’d have to kill Akihiro a hundred times over if he thought he was getting his claws into Gabby, sweet little thing that she was. If Akihiro fucked her up that was on him but he couldn’t live with himself if he stood by and let Logan do to her that he’d done to himself and Laura. Think of Laura. He urgent himself to play nice. Sat back, loose and relaxed in his chair. They’d only bought this one a month ago, be a shame if he let his wastrel of a father make him ruin it.

“I’m asking for a chance son, let the kid decide even. Let her tell me where to stick it if that’s what she wants.” It was a surreal feeling, having Logan look at him like that. Wounded and pleaded as if it was Akihiro’s fault he’d never put in the time or effort with his own kid. A kid Akihiro was raising with Laura, Logan’s biggest disappointments.

“Alright.” He said quietly. He felt calmer than he thought he’d be, calmer than he should be. “Alright, I’ll ask her. No, you ask her. Come back at dinner time and you ask her. Look her in the eyes and tell her what you want and if you ruin it, if you so much as turn up a minute late I’ll rip your guts out.” He didn’t give Logan a chance to reply. He strode out of the living room and down the hall to the bathroom, he shut the door with more force than necessary and turned the taps on full blast. He felt, more than heard Logan leaving. The door clicked softly behind him and when the quite settled over the house Akihiro let out the breath he’d been holding. Air rushed out of his lungs at the same volume the water was gushing from the faucet, he turned them off with a shaking hand as his senses became overwhelmed. Laura found him sat between the toilet and the sink with his head between his knees a little later. Akihiro couldn’t remember when he sat down, he didn’t hear her come in or even walking down the hall until she was crouched in front of him with a gentle hand on his knee.

“Logan.” It wasn’t a question. He huffed a self-deprecating laugh feeling embarrassed. The last time he’d found himself huddled in a corner was in his teens, when he’d been Romulus’ pet. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the cold tiled wall, breathed in four out seven. Laura patted his knee and stood up, he cracked an eye open to look at her. She was wearing his jacket and Gabby’s worn out boots, the ones with the yellow laces. He could smell her now, the sweet floral scent of soap and the crisp leather of his jacket. She jangled when she moved, she was wearing the bracelet Jubilee had bought her last Christmas. A tacky little thing with loads of mismatched charms, she said it was whimsical and he had laughed and teased her for it.

The faucet turned off with a squeak that made his teeth sting. He stepped out of the shower in a puff of steam dripping onto the rubber mat. He could hear Gabby chatting away in the kitchen more at Laura than to her, he knew Laura didn’t mind. He wrapped a towel around his waist and started to comb the wet out of his hair when the knock came. Akihiro felt his breath clog up in his throat.

The pizza was cooked by the time he’d dressed himself. Gabby was laying out plates, four he noticed instead of three. He bit his tongue. Laura was cutting up garlic bread and chatting idly with Logan. He ignored him as he stepped into the room.

“Logan’s taking me for ice cream after dinner.” Gabby chirped to him the moment her eyes found him. “Wanna come?”

He scooped the bread basket out of Laura’s hands and plopped it down in the middle of the table. He ruffled Gabby’s hair, she had a clip missing. She was smiling up at him, he felt his heart slowing to a gentle beat and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Sounds great.” He said softly smiling back.

“So you wanna come?” She seemed unsure.

“Nah… you have fun though. Spend all his money.” She laughed. She had a bark of a laugh, it always made him chuckle. How opposite she was from Laura, bold where Laura was mild and soft and quiet.

“It’s only ice cream Aki, not the Crown Jewels.”

“He couldn’t afford them even if he want to.” Akihiro said with a sly smile, he heard Laura snort.”

“Food.” She said bringing two trays of pizza all sliced into even half’s. Her bare feet padded across the floor with a gentle pit pat that he’d so grown accustomed to. Logan sat opposite him between the girls, he still hadn’t looked at him.

“What ‘bout you Laura.” Gabby said through a mouthful of food. Akihiro wrinkled his nose at her.

“What?” She said amused, eyes flickering between himself and the washing machine that was their little sister.

“Are you-“ swallow. “Are you coming?” She took another bite. Grease glistening on her lips and fingers.

“To ice cream? No. I am going to watch Fargo.” Akihiro snorted, Laura threw her crust at him.

“Ew.” He said accusingly but she only rolled her eyes. He noticed Gabby’s expression.

“Oh ok.” She’s nervous, he thought as he watched her push another piece of pepperoni to the side for Johnathon. He felt guilt tugging at his heart and by the time dinner was over and her shoes were on he’d found himself agreeing to ice cream with daddy.

They’d made him soft, he found himself thinking as they strode down the sidewalk, he was only half begrudged by it though. The air was chilly with the promise of rain but Akihiro didn’t mind, it made the stench of New York a little easier to bare. They trudged through the streets lit by buzzing lights and the glare of neon signs and headlights from cars and trucks that whizzed by, the noise was deafening. That was another inconvenience of living in paradise, coming through the gate to New York was like stumbling into another dimension when you’ve been surrounded by nothing but birds and grass for months on end. Akihiro used to thrive in the stickiest and filthiest places in New York, used to come alive at the sights and sounds of people and music yet here and now he found his teeth grinding together at the insult to his senses with all the chatting and beeping.

The ice cream shop was a back alley hovel at best. There was one angular counter filled with tubs of all kinds of flavoured ice cream, the back wall was stacked with cones of different shapes and styles and in the corner a slush puppy machine was whirling round and round, sloshing blue and red mulch through metal arms in its glass cage. A few tables and chairs were squeezed into one corner, Akihiro immediately regretted sitting down when his palm came away sticky from the menu laid flat on the table. He grimaced as he wiped his hand on his jeans.

“-And chocolate sauce with sprinkles.” Gabby was saying to the man behind the counter. “A double cone.” She added as an after thought. “And a mixed slushy please.” She danced along the counter on her tippy toes following the guy along his station. Her shoes were odd. One pink, one yellow. He noticed she had Laura’s yellow raincoat on.

“You want something son?” Logan half turned to him, an amused look on his face.

“No.” He said shortly.

“We should get Laura a Slushy.” Gabby thought out loud.

“Sure kid. You want one Akihiro?” Logan asked. And he did. He did want one but his pride stuck the words to his tongue. He felt his face get hot as Logan turned to him, fully now, that stupid look still on his face. His smile grew as he felt Akihiro’s emotions swimming around in the confined space between them.

“Red or blue?” His tone had a suspicious edge, almost like pity. It left a sour taste in Akihiro’s mouth.

“Blue.” He went outside. The bell chimed as the door closed behind him, he kept his back to the window. The air was crisp here as it was funnelled down the alley out onto the road, there was a burger bar somewhere to his left, he could smell the meat sizzling in its pan. The bell chimed again as Gabby came skipping out hands full and cold from the weight of her prize. “Don’t go too far.” He called after her as she danced her way towards the mouth of the alley. Logan handed him his drink without a word but Akihiro could feel the presence of them anyway. He marched off down the alley towards Gabby who was leaning against the wall waiting for them.

When he’s finally settled in bed, eyes closed and drifting into fitful bouts of sleep he heard his door creak open. He lay still and took in her scent. He smiled softly. She crept along the edge of the wall and climbed in on top of him from the end of the bed, up until she was resting her head on his chest.

“Thank you.” She whispered into the covers. Akihiro hummed in question. “For coming with me.” He wormed his arm out from under the quilt and stroked her hair. I’ll always be with you, he thought as her breathing shallowed. I’ll never leave you alone.

This was absolutely BEAUTIFUL!!!!!! I just love it so much!! Everything! I love the tension between him and Logan, I love the gentle relationship he has with the girls, I love them all staying together! This was so perfect in every single way!! It’s so sweet that Gabby needed him there to feel comfortable being around Logan and I think it’s even sweeter that Akihito set aside his own differences with Logan to be there for her! The details of Gabby and Laura mixing and matching clothes and shoes and Laura wearing Akihiro’s jacket was such a nice touch 🥰 and I so appreciate your acknowledgment of Logan’s lack of care when it comes to Gabby! Wonderful, wonderful work!! Absolutely perfect!

Unresolved

She’s sits on the rock, ostensibly keeping watch but really, she just needs some time alone.

Which seems utterly ridiculous. She’s been alone for literally years now. Things were easier in some ways when she was by herself. She didn’t have to compromise or debate. If she wanted to do something, she did it.

She hears footsteps on the hard ground and doesn’t need to turn to know it’s Callum. Things haven’t exactly gone well between them. She probably shouldn’t have got so angry when she found him, Ez and Soren in Xadia. She was worried and scared but that tended to come out sounding angry.

Of course, he’d started yelling back at her. Rightfully so, to be fair.

She’d been impressed with Ezran’s diplomacy when he managed to end the argument. Not that anything was resolved but well, the yelling had stopped at least.

They just couldn’t seem to stop sniping at each other though and she could tell that Soren and Ezran were getting pretty sick of the tense atmosphere at this stage.

“Hey.” His voice is softer than it has been of late. “Em, do you mind…?” He gestures to the large rock she is sitting on.

She shakes her head, not quite trusting her voice. She hates fighting with him, especially after all this time. And in her defence, she had tried saying sorry to him but he’d rejected her apology and had thrown it back in her face.

And so, here they were.

This was not how she wanted to be reunited with him and she wanted so desperately to make things better… she just didn’t know how.

He sighed, eyes on the dark forest before them. “I’m, em, sorry for how I’ve been acting…”

She snorted, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re sorry?” Why was he apologising to her? He might have said some harsh things, but it was nothing compared to what she did to him. Soren had told her how much he’d changed since she left the Moon Nexus and she hated that her sweet, kind Callum had become angry and bitter because of her. Because of her lies and deceit.

He seems to read her words wrong though, looking hurt and upset for a moment before the now familiar sneer crosses his face.

“No, that’s not what I-” She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes in a vain attempt to stem the tears she can already feel on her cheeks. “I’m sorry. For… everything.” Her voice cracks and she pulls her knees into her chest as she tries to control herself. She owes him so much more than that, but the words stick in her throat, threatening to suffocate her.

Callum sighs, moving around a little to look at her better. “I know.” He sounds calmer and more like the Callum she remembers from before.

She risks a peek at him, confused by how in control he seems for the first time since they started travelling together again.

He’s watching her, his own eyes glassy but he smiles a little when they make eye contact.

“I don’t want to fight with you, Callum.” She swallows past the lump in her throat. “I wish I could just make things better. I wish we could go back to how we used to be.”

“Me too.” He takes a shaky breath, looking back to the forest again. “It can’t though, you know that, right?”

She looks away too but she doesn’t answer him. She can’t. She did all this because she couldn’t bear to lose him and she’s lost him anyway. Nodding stiffly, she hopes that’s good enough for him.

This is it. They’re over. It’s stupid that she held out hope he’d still want to be with her after everything, but she’s been stupid more than once in her life.

“But maybe…” He breathes out slowly, turning to look at her. “Maybe we can begin something new?”

She feels tears spring afresh from her eyes, but these ones are happy. Hopeful. “I’d like that.” She barely manages above a whisper but from the small smile that crosses his face, she thinks he heard her.

His hand reaches for hers but she finds herself unable to resist moving next to him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. “I missed you, Callum. I missed you so much.”

twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by @mightymizora (thank youuu)

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 94. 

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 1,108,787, ahahaha. I’ve been at it for like 20 years though. 3. What fandoms do you write for? Baldur’sGate 3, Cyberpunk 2077, Mass Effect, Dragon Age and Lucifer make up the bulk of my fics but I’ve dabbled in some more fandoms.  4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

There are names for what binds us - (DAI; Blackwall/Trevelyan) The free parking jackpot rule - (Lucifer; Lucifer/Chloe) Blaze Me a Sun - (BG3; Astarion/Tav) And Hate the Idle Pleasures of These Days - (Lucifer; Michael/Ella) Kiss by Kiss I Cover Your Small Infinity - (Lucifer; Lucifer/Chloe)

5. Do you respond to comments? I always try to!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? All of my A Song of Ice and Fire fics are angsty since they’re about women who die in various horrible ways. But I’m generally more of a bittersweet writer, I think. 7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Like I said, I lean towards the bittersweet and most endings are more sweet than bitter.Compared to canon outcomes I’d say my Michael fics for the Lucifer fandom are the happiest ones because you can’t give me a wretched, bitter, jealous mirror to Most Loved Boi Lucifer and not expect me to root for him in some way. 8. Do you get hate on fics? Not since my Jamie/Brienne drabbles ended up on a rabid Jamie/Cersei reclist. I also had some snippy comments/PMs on a Michael fic where I closed down Hell because Lucifer the show gave me an American Dream ending with self-improvement through therapy in Hell instead of questioning revenge as a moral solution. 9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Gods, I used to. Not so much now, no. It’s just not that interesting to me anymore, I rather write around the smut. The kind of smut I like to write is emotionally intense and/or angsty, at any rate.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Very, very rarely. I’m uninterested in reading them myself but I’ve used crossover as a concept in two stories: Troy Lies in Ruins (Cyberpunk 2077) in which Johnny is the Clementine inside V’s head and I use Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind as inspiration for their post-game quest to find each other again.

The Gods That Answer After Dark (Lucifer) in which I crossover Deckerstar with the novel The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue and had a chance to shut down that damned hell again.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes, someone more or less paraphrased my Johnny/V fic And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire by posting their own fic with pretty much entire paragraphs stolen from mine. I didn’t do anything about it, though, it had no comments/kudos at the time. 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, it was flattering. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I don’t think so, not that I can recall. I’d be up for it, though, it would be kind of cool to co-write a romance story where two authors write two different characters. 

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? I don’t think I can pick just one. 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I always intend to finish the WIPs. That said, it would require a lot of willpower to return to the oldest WIPs I have, by now. 16. What are your writing strengths? I think I’m good at concepts, characters and hopefully keeping a distinct sort of style. I used to be more pretentious. I think my writing has become better by dropping some of the most literary concepts in favour of focusing on emotions and social dynamics. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plot? I think I could write plot - I like to plan stories out - but I don’t really want to dedicate time to write it. I’m also really bored by action and exposition. Ugh at having to explain and describe shit beyond a tightly packed sentence or two.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don’t even understand this question and will blame it on English being my second language. 

19. First fandom you wrote for? The Legend of the Ice People, oh my lord. If only for my desk drawer. https://www.amazon.com/The-Legend-of-the-Ice-People-19-book-series/dp/B075TY2F5M The US version of the covers have removed ALL suggestive and thrillingly forbidden vibe from the original though. What 13 year old me loved about them was that the first book was about a horny 16 year old girl who falls in love with a 40 something demonic and cursed (also solitary and very angsty) dude after having intense sex dreams about him as Satan. Every book after that just added to the cocktail of sex, history and ancient curses and for years so much of what I wrote was fanfic versions of this series.  20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written? I’m rather fond of this Aeducan/Gorim story: so I wait for you like a lonely house

I'm tagging @wanderingaldecaldo, @thievinghippo, @icescrabblerjerky and @threewhiskeylunch if you're up for it. Otherwise feel free to ignore.

As My Friend Has Stood By Me, So Shall I (Part 18)

Sweet Then Sour

(Warning: This chapter contains a lot of discussion about Weight and Loss of Weight)

Even with a quickened pace after the Orc encounter, it takes a few hours to reach Dale. Tauriel is waiting for them at the entrance to the city, and as soon as they can see her Kili breaks away to rush into her arms! She laughs and easily sweeps her dwarf up off his feet and to her lips. Fili pretends to gag, and Bilbo laughs at it. Kili and Tauriel are very sweet, and he’s happy for them- but he understands why Fili may be a little tired of his lovestruck brother.

“Did you face any dangers on the road?” she asks as she sets Kili back down.

“Only one Orc, easy enough. I shot it straight through the eye.” Kili mimics nocking and firing an arrow.

“Almost the eye.” Fili grins as Kili shoots him a ‘shut your mouth’ look, and Tauriel just smiles. She looks at Bilbo and nods to him.

“It’s been some time since we’ve spoken, Master Baggins.”

“Bilbo, please, I’ve had enough Master Baggins to last a lifetime.” Bilbo adjusts his belt a bit- it’s looser on him than it once was. Tauriel’s smile fades a little as she takes him in. Bilbo notices, and waves his hand as though it can wave away her concerns. “I hardly see you around the mountain.”

“I try to make myself scarce. While the King may accept me…”

“He’ll get the others sorted out soon,” Kili promises, taking her hand. “He sent a raven to Amad about it already, and she sent back saying as soon as she read that you fought for us against Thranduil’s orders she began planning our ceremony.”

Tauriel laughs lightly. “The lack of love for my king is genetic, then.”

“Nah. I don’t hate him- I’d just put salt in his wine the next time we have negotiations.”

“You will not.” Bilbo puts his hands on his hips. “Let’s try to avoid a second war, thank you. Just pour him a poor vintage and give him food that’s been sitting out just slightly too long to be truly fresh- just excusable enough to be poor planning or bad manners, but still a slight. I did it all the time with my less savory relatives.”

“Ooooh, that’s a good one.” 

“And here I’d hoped you would keep your dwarves out of trouble,” Tauriel says as she leads them into the city, eyes gleaming. 

“Then you forgot about my breaking them out of your prison.”

“I suppose I did.” She waves to a couple of children who shout hello to her as she passes by. “For all the woes of the mortal world beyond our borders, I’m glad you did break them out. I’ve seen more of the world now than I did in centuries within our own borders.”

“I know how you feel. I hadn’t even been out of The Shire before this whole adventure.”

“Your lands are to the West, aren’t they?”

“Yes, past Rivendell a good ways.”

“I’ve heard there are trees in the West that my kin of old woke before we settled in the East, along the borders of a river in a quiet land of green and growing.”

“Really? … Suppose that explains the Old forest in Buckland, then. We always thought it was the river flowing through it.”

“Hang on, you said there’s no magic in The Shire. What’s this Old Forest?”

“There isn’t magic. The Old Forest is just… odd. They say the trees move and speak, and- well, like Tauriel said. They’re awake.”

“That is magic!”

“Well, Hobbits didn’t do it! We avoid those trees! Terrible business, they’re all dangerous- sometimes the pathway through just changes places.”

“Many of the trees that were woken before the Third Age have grown bitter, and cruel,” Tauriel says sadly. “I cannot blame them- they were felled for the ambitions of Men, and then again when the great evil waged war on the world. The loss hardened them against love, and hope.”

“Why didn’t we learn any of this before we went to The Shire?” Fili pokes Bilbo. “We could’ve ended up there by accident!”

“You couldn’t, there’s borders. Very clear ones.” Bilbo looks up into the sky, squinting. “Is it midday already?”

“Huh, it is.” Kili looks at Tauriel. “Once we get to the market, actually, I need to have a word with you. Just a quick one.”

“Of course- oh, my lord Bard.” Tauriel pauses to give a slight bow as the King of Dale passes by. Bard pauses, arms full of firewood, to take in the party.

“Is this a royal procession, or a friendly visit?” he asks after a moment.

“We’re just here to see the market,” Fili says, speaking not as a prince to a king, but a traveller to a local resident. “We heard you’d gotten in some nice fabrics and seeds and stuff, and thought we’d treat Master Baggins here to a day out.”

Bilbo regards Bard with a polite, somewhat stilted small bow, and a pull like a wince to his expression as he avoids eye contact. His last words to Bard months ago had been… dismissively rude at best, after all, and not said in the most clear of headspaces.

Bard just nods politely at him. “It’s good to see you all out of the mountain, then. I was beginning to worry I’d offended your Master Baggins, and your King by extension.”

“No, I uh- I’d like to apologize, actually.” Bilbo clears his throat, rocking on his heels a bit and still not making eye contact. “I was more than-than a bit rude, when we last spoke, and I’m… sorry.”

Bard shrugs. “No harm done, then. Our kingdoms remain friendly.” He looks Bilbo up and down a bit. “We just got an old bakery cleared out, and the oven was well-preserved. There’s baked goods to be bought in the market now.”

“Oh, ah, thank you.” Bilbo adjusts his belt again. “I don’t suppose there’s clothing, either?”

“Not for sale at the moment- only spare fabrics. All of our proper clothing is still being distributed among the people.”

“Right. Um, thank you.”

Bard gives the group one last nod, one last lingering look at Bilbo- and then he leaves.

Bilbo huffs and pulls his tunic a little above his belt, trying to make it a bit baggier, a bit less showing of his lack of weight. “If I get one more comment about eating more, I’m going to start stuffing pillows down my shirt. That goes for you boys, too, and everyone else in our Company.”

Fili and Kili hold up their hands. 

“You’re the one who said Hobbits need seven meals a day to us,” Fili defends. 

“Seven a day?” Tauriel says as they begin walking again. “That must be a joke.”

“Not in the slightest. But seven meals a day are a bit hard to come by here and now, as we all know. I’m managing just fine on three, and I’ll keep managing until we won’t all starve just to satisfy my want for Elevenses.”

“The Shire must be a very plentiful land, to support peoples of such appetites.”

“Plentiful, peaceful, and perfect.” Bilbo straightens up a bit with pride. “Honestly, I think once Erebor is all settled we should all go back- yes, Kili, I mean Tauriel as well. Hobbits have the best parties of any of the people of Middle-Earth, I guarantee you.”

“His pantry was bursting,” Kili says to Tauriel, and for the rest of the walk to the marketplace he describes all the foods he and his kin had downright plundered from Bilbo’s pantries and larders. Fili begins humming the song they’d sung as well, and Bilbo, despite the panic it had brought him then, begins humming along with Fili.

When they reach the marketplace, it’s as close to ‘bustling’ as a slowly-rebuilding city like Dale can be. Hardly close to the stories of old Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin had shared before, but far more cheerful and prosperous than Laketown had been- prosperous in terms of fair trade, at least. With few traders from outside of Dale itself and a small group of tailors and whittlers from the mountain involving themselves in it’s burgeoning economy, most prices are based solely on the amount of money that each family has so far been given by Thorin- which is quite a bit, but still slow-coming, after a deliberation by Thorin, Gandalf, and Bard in which they agreed it best to send the shares out in parts to try and avoid any such as Alfrid or The Master from rising to be claimed by gold sickness. 

And, indeed, there’s the smell of fresh-baked goods in the air. Bilbo’s stomach suddenly growls, quite loudly, enough for his three companions to turn and stare in shock and amusement while he turns red from embarrassment. 

“We knew you weren’t eating enough!” Kili finally bursts out, getting Bilbo and shoving him towards the source of the smell. 

“It’s just because I skipped breakfast to make it to this outing!” Bilbo protests.

“Uncle had breakfast delivered to your room hours before you came out! I knew you were skipping meals!”

“What?” Bilbo hadn’t even noticed any food- which, actually, is alarming. He’d been so busy searching for a hiding place for his Luck…

Another thought takes that one’s place. “Hang on, who has access to my room while I sleep?!”

“Just us.”

“Us- everyone in the hall?”

“Course. Why wouldn’t we? What if someone got past the guards and attacked one of us?”

“Fili. Don’t you think it’d be harder for that to happen if we have good locks that no-one but the person in the room can unlock?”

“... But then we can’t either.”

“This can’t be a dwarf thing. This is just you thirteen, surely. I want locks, thank you.”

“But-”

“Locks, Fili! With a key just I have!”

“... Alright, I’ll tell Uncle. But that means no more meal deliveries.” 

“I’ve already been demanded to have group meals whenever possible as it is, I can live with it.”

They get inside the bakery, and Bilbo is plunked unceremoniously into an ancient salvaged chair by Fili while Kili gently leads Tauriel to sit and kisses her hand before joining his brother at the counter.

Tauriel watches Bilbo try to smooth out his tunic while grumbling to himself. “You are much thinner than I remember you being in the tents.

“Not you too,” Bilbo grumbles. 

“Your dwarves have lost far less weight than you.”

“... Too tell you the truth,” he casts a glance at the princes to make sure they’re out of earshot, and then says lowly, “My appetite's been a little thin these last few months. I think it’s all the being inside The Mountain.”

Her worry smoothes out into understanding. “Your people are more like mine?”

“Not quite living in trees, but not living so far underground either, and certainly not spending nearly all our time indoors. Back home I have- had, a little garden of my own, and plenty of good windows, and a nice bench by my gate where I liked to sit with my pipe and occasionally a book.”

Tauriel nods. “I worry about Kili asking me to come live with him in the mountain for the very reason you feel ill at ease.”

“He’d probably move into Mir- Greenwood, with you, if you asked.”

“My Lord Thranduil has… not made it clear if I’m welcomed in his kingdom anymore. I last spoke to him before I carried Kili to the tents, and though he was no longer angry with me…”

“He wasn’t clear.” Bilbo nods. “I’m sorry, Tauriel.”

It’s then that Fili and Kili come back with one of everything available- which isn’t much by Shire standards, but quite a bit by the standards of Bilbo’s last two years of meals now. Seed cakes, scones, breads, and a nice bit of butter- apparently in the last months someone had discovered the descendants of domesticated cows of old, and their mild tempers still carried in their blood after all this time, and so a few in the city had managed to set up a small dairy farm.

And, after months of an appetite so weak he hardly picked at anything other than that single feast of Hobbit-like cuisine Thorin had arranged one day, Bilbo finds himself actually digging in. He eats happily, hardly even contributing to conversation, and Fili and Kili seem more than happy to let it remain that way.

They return to the counter twice more before Bilbo finally feels satisfied, as though he’d been starving to death this whole time and somehow never noticed. His belt no longer bothering him by sliding down so much, he thanks and praises the baker as they all take their leave to the markets outside. The sun, shining down on them with loving warmth, feels all the brighter now that Bilbo feels well.

Yes, that’s it. He’s felt unwell these past months. How had he not noticed?

Fili and Kili whisper something to each other in Khuzdul, and then Kili looks up to Tauriel and whispers something in stilted, broken Silvan. The sound shocks Bilbo so badly that he trips and needs to be caught by Fili lest he break his nose.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just never thought I’d hear an Elvish language come out of any of our parties’ mouths.”

“It sounded alright?” Kili asks nervously. “Did it uh, make sense?”

“I couldn’t understand it,” Bilbo says, apologetic even as something in Kili’s face seems to lift at the revelation. “I’d like to, but I only learned a bit of Sindarin during our stay in Rivendell.”

“I’d be happy to teach you Silvan, after I’ve helped Kili refine his. I don’t know that I could teach two at once.”

“Focus on you two, I’ll just send for some books when things are settled and learn it that way.”

Tauriel nods, and smiles down at Kili. “You spoke well, my love. I understood it completely.”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The three hang slightly back from Bilbo as the hobbit flits about the stalls, examining the fabrics and seeds and any other goods available, meager as they are. He seems more at home here than any of them have seen him- no small feat for Tauriel, but quite a large one for Fili and Kili. Even in his own Smial all those months ago he hadn’t seemed completely natural or at home- probably because his home was quite literally invaded. 

Now he barters and haggles and schmoozes and makes quick acquaintances, and even seems to pick up on what is, judging by his expressions, some delightful gossip.

And all the while, his hands barely twitch to his midsection- only once or twice, and only for a brief moment.

But still Kili points it out when it happens. “That,” he whispers. “In the mountains it’s worse. He can’t keep his hands still, and without pockets he usually has whatever trinket it is gripped in his fist.”

Tauriel nods in understanding. “I’ll speak with one of the elves I know to still hold respect for me. If I’m allowed to pass through our lands again, I’ll find Mithrandir and tell him of this.”

“Do you have any ideas about it?” Fili tries, keeping his voice low and pulling his brother and who he’s pretty sure is his future sister-in-law into a more hidden alcove of the ruins. “Right now our best guess is the gold sickness, but it’s… different.”

Kili nods. “Uncle doesn’t seem completely convinced either, but we don’t know what else it could be.”

Tauriel shakes her head. “It’s no magic of the elves, and I know little of the magic of other races beyond what I encountered as captain of the guard.”

“There you three are,” Bilbo huffs, quickly walking over with arms full of fabric scraps and seed pouches and an ancient but surprisingly well-preserved book on Gardening In Mountainous Areas. “You’ll never believe what I’ve heard from the vendor over there. There’s been a party of men from some other settlement trying to sell webs gathered from Mirkwood. Apparently the spiders are trying to flee the forests and setting up nests at the edges, only to get killed by just about everything under the sun.”

“Serves those things right,” Fili says with a grin.

“Ha, couldn’t agree more! Dreadful things.”

Fili perks up, and then looks between Kili and Tauriel with a look that says ‘This is going to be important’. “Hey, remember when I bumped into you at the market weeks ago? You said you heard them talk.”

Bilbo’s demeanor shifts. His satisfied smile melts away, his bright eyes taking on a wary look. “I-I might remember.”

“What’d they say again?”

“I fail to see how that’s relevant.”

“Aw, come on.”

Bilbo shifts his feet, hugging his goods closer to himself in a guarded fashion, like he’s trying to create a barrier between himself and the other three. “Something about sticking you all and eating you, if you just have to know,” he snips. “And that Sting stings and then screaming.”

“Well, that’s not surprising,” Kili says, though his own expression had soured with worry at the way Bilbo just… changed, when it was mentioned.

Bilbo nods, and then looks away. “I’m going to ah, go wait by the bridge entrance for you all to finish up.”

And just like that he’s gone, disappeared into the crowd without a trace.

Kili and Fili both look up at Tauriel, who’s eyes trail after where Bilbo had headed.

“The spiders do not speak,” she says finally. “... It could have been the dark poison in the air along the path.”

“Maybe,” Fili agrees, “But when he mentioned it before he did that thing, reaching into his pocket and getting all strange. I think it’s connected.”

“Gold sickness wouldn’t give him ears for the language of Fell creatures.”

“No, but, like we said, whatever he has might be magic. Or it could be both at the same time.”

“Could even be three things,” Kili says. “Sickness, the trinket, and warrior weariness. What if whatever he’s got on him is making the sickness and weariness worse?”

Tauriel lets out a long breath. “Something wicked ails him,” she says softly. “I cannot see what, but I feel it.” She looks down at the princes. “I’ll go to Greenwood before nightfall tonight.” 

“Thank you, Tauriel.” Fili gives her a respectful bow.

Kili hops on top of a nearby bit of broken building and leans up to kiss her. “The sooner we have Gandalf here, the better. I’d hate to lose an Uncle before he’s even our Uncle.”

Figment | Chapter 7 (Finale)

Chapters:  7/7, Complete Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne Additional Tags: Mix of TV Dream and Comic Dream, Spice a little later, kinda enemies to lovers, Cause Dream likes when people backtalk to him, lots and lots of tension Summary: She had only been able to enter other’s dreams two years ago, but she knew the rules. Don’t interfere with the dream. Don’t create anything in another’s dream. Don’t destroy anything in another’s dream. But then she stupidly broke one of those rules and the Lord of Dreams does not take kindly to others messing with his domain. Chapter Summary:   In the light of the morning after. Read Here on AO3 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Next in Series: Touch Starved (Reminder that the entire series and sequels are on AO3)

CHAPTER 7

Cross legged, I sat on my couch and let the Sunday morning light cover me through the window. I chewed on my nail, distracted completely, images from the night flashing through me. I’d jumped off the knife’s edge and it had been glorious, all consuming, nothing I could have imagined. Though it had been in the Dreaming, I’d woken with faint marks dotting my skin and delicious aches all over. It had happened. There was no denying it. I could still feel Morpheus’ touch and lips on mine. But there had been a bitter sweetness when I awoke and alone in my room, insecurity had settled in, swift and brutal. The game was over so what was there now? We’d been so drawn to each other but now that it had reached the end goal, would that be it? The fun was over, what else was there to draw Dream to me? In the eyes of gods, maybe that’s all humans were. Quick games to preoccupy their eternity. I felt frustrated, falling into the same dumb mind trap of wondering if a person liked me or if was just a one-night stand and it felt so petty and small considering the person I was wondering about was barely a person. He was bigger than a god, a lord of his domain. Older and more powerful than anything I could even fathom. And I was busy wondering what we were.

I felt pathetic and I hated that. The courage that had propelled me forward in the Dreaming gone in the stark bright morning light. Throwing on some jeans, a loose black shirt, and comfy sweater, I shoved my feet into some boots and left the house. I needed to get out and distract myself instead of thinking. The emptiness of my apartment for the first time in a while was pressing in and I needed sound, voices, anything. There was a certain irony that not that long ago, I had done this very same thing but to avoid thinking about Morpheus possibly killing me. I hadn’t wanted his attention, hid from it, feared it. And now it was the opposite. A mere caress could send me tumbling into a deep chasm of longing and my body still hummed, feeling the ghosts of his power running over it. Maybe because of that reason, I ended up strolling around until I arrived at the café. The morning air was a bit chilly, but my long hair covered my neck from the wind and the sweater did its best to keep me warm. The sun heated my skin, working to fight off the cold, but I didn’t really feel any of it as I slowed to a stop on the sidewalk. Because there, sitting at the same table we had shared before on the patio, Dream sat there and caught my eyes. Thick black wool coat, messy hair, pale skin, and sharp blue eyes. So beautiful that my breath caught under his gaze. A faint smile painted his lips and my heart skipped, thumping loudly in my ears. My brain raced to reason it all away, that smile having to be because he’d managed to catch me off guard, not because of me exactly. Slowly, he stood, hands in his pockets, and waited while I anxiously approached the table, filled with trepidation and something close to fear. I wasn’t sure what I was scared of, but this felt unexpectedly big. His rejection maybe, telling me it was fun but he had work and don’t forget not to break any rules. In the wake of all the games and passion, I was left with uncertainty and any of the bravado that had fueled me. “Hi,” I whispered in greeting, voice breathy, shivering but not from the cold. His lips curled even more, amusement playing in those blue eyes, “Hello, little dreamer.” Silence and tension filled the space between us, my tongue heavy and dry as I tried to find the words and he didn’t seem all too eager to help. Finally I cleared my throat and sat down, him following my lead like a gentleman, sitting only after the lady herself was seated. “What are you doing here?” I asked with clenched fingers under the table, feeling so small under his gaze. Morpheus’ brow rose, a slight tensing under his relaxed façade, “Do you not wish for me to be here?” “No!” the words all stumbled together as I tried to backtrack, “Uh, that’s not what I meant! I want you- I mean, I’m thrilled you’re here! Uh, I’m just confused I guess.” I groaned and covered my face in my hands at the growing smirk on his face, “Sorry, I’m an idiot and am going to shut up now.” His soft chuckle reverberated through me, velvety and rich and not unlike the sheets we had laid against. The table shifted as he leaned forward and cool, long fingers pried my hands from my face and intertwined them on the table between us. I stared at them, the way my hands seemed dwarfed by his and the feel of his skin against mine. “I rather like when you are flustered, but there is no need,” Morpheus reassured, thumb tracing over my palm, “As for why I am here, I wished to see you. Nothing more.” And my heart wrenched at that, the sentence chipping away at the insecurities that had been eating at me all morning. I took a shuddering breath, allowing myself the small privilege of tightening my fingers in his and enjoying the feeling of holding on to him, “I thought…I don’t know, maybe after last night that you would be done with me.” The waitress decided to come by then, always at the perfect moment. I wasn’t particularly hungry or wanting anything but Dream spoke up, eyes not leaving mine and not letting go of my hands, “A black coffee and a London Fog for her.” I raised my brow at that, the knowledge he had remembered something as dumb as my drink last time and had ordered for me, and watched the waitress walk away, “Are you going to pay her in leaves or something and make her believe it’s gold?” He shook his head, wind teasing the wild locks of black hair, “That is a Fae trick and I am no Fae. It is in my capabilities to pay with real money if I have need to. I learned that lesson years passed when my elder sister admonished me for it.” From the few times he’d mentioned anything personal, it had always been about his sister. Who happened to be Death. But besides that small fact, I could tell he was closest to her and held her in high esteem. I would say I wanted to meet her, but refrained. I wasn’t in any way eager enough to have Death on my doorstep. The waitress came and left quickly enough with our drinks but Dream didn’t move to release me, letting the air chill both hot mugs. He seemed to ponder for a moment before drawing me back to my previous remark, “I am not one who easily gives my attention freely. If you are not opposed to it, I am most definitely not done with you yet.” My breath hitched and my body suddenly felt too hot, too tight under the intensity of those blue eyes. Shakily, I nodded and blinked under long lashes, “I think I’d like that.” With hands so pale against the bright light of the sun, he raised my own and pressed a soft, long kiss to the knuckles of one and then the other. Memories of those lips on mine, lips and teeth dragging down my neck and in the hollow between my breasts, assaulted my mind. From the satisfied smirk on his face as he finally let go to drink his coffee, he knew exactly what I was thinking about. Anthropomorphic personification or not, he still had the pride of a man. I picked up my own cup and drank to hide my blush. “So should I expect you to be showing up unexpectedly in the waking world now?” I asked over the rim of my mug, the hot liquid warming my body even further but it was a welcome heat in the chill of the morning. “Not all the time, I’m afraid,” he leaned back in his chair and those long legs of his brushed my own. This time I let myself enjoy it, leaning my own against his. “There is much that needs to be done in my realm, but sometimes, yes. I would like to visit, if you’ll have me?” “Yes,” I replied quickly, face quickly heating up, “Um, yeah, I think I’d like that.” The dream lord seemed endlessly amused at my eagerness but he simply smiled and nodded, “Good.” “Good,” I repeated, smiling back, “I should warn you though, I’m not good at whatever this is.” Tilting his head, Dream stared down at his cup in understanding and almost a tinge of regret, “Then we are the same in that. Most would say I have not been the best in handling others…and so I ask for your patience. I am…trying…to be better.” The statement felt loaded, a history in those words, but I didn’t want to push it. This was still so small and new. An agreement to keep doing whatever this was but it’s not like he had said he wanted to date or whatever immortal beings do. Court? I’m not sure. So having the previous relationships talk wasn’t on the table yet and I didn’t want to open my own bag of trauma. My book had been blank in the library meaning he didn’t know everything about me. That made me feel slightly better, like we were more on equal footing, even if his past was eons long. It meant he had to get to know me just as I had to get to know him. “Deal. If you’re patient with me, I’ll be patient with you,” I agreed, chewing on my lower lip. The weight didn’t completely leave his body but he nodded and some of the lightness came back, “Apologies, but I do have to leave. I do not have as long as I wished I did.” He seemed genuinely remorseful at that, like leaving the small little café that had come to be where we had our first real conversation was painful for him. Standing and pulling some money from his pocket, he moved to leave it beside his now empty cup but I grabbed it and raised it to the light of the sky. “What are you doing?” he asked amusedly. “Checking if it’s real or if you're handing out counterfeit money,” I grinned, squinting at the bill in my hand as if I even knew what counterfeit money looked like. At that he actually did roll his eyes, a first that I’d seen, and plucked the paper from me to set it back down. And before I could comprehend the movement, he gently grabbed my chin and leaned over me, pressing his lips to mine. The experience of kissing him in the waking world felt so different than in the Dreaming. He felt real, not just a figment of my imagination. His lips were slightly chilled from the air but demanding and I breathed him in. He tasted of coffee, something that surprised me because of how normal that was but shouldn’t have. I let out a breathy moan and he managed to drag himself away, pulling back just far enough that his eyes the color of the sky filled my vision. “Take care, little dreamer,” he whispered along my lips. I let out a barely audible goodbye, wanting nothing more than to wrap my hands in his hair and drag him back down to me, but he pulled away fully and the absence of his heat creeped along my body. With a nod, he left and I forced myself not to watch him go, knowing I was already down bad. Seeing him leave would just make the longing worse. I wanted to hide and soak in the lingering traces of his scent and taste of his lips, but I settled for holding my blushing cheeks in my hands. “Dahlia,” that familiar voice called behind me. I turned at the sound of my name, jarring at hearing it for the first time from his lips. The sound was heaven and I wanted to bottle it up, save it just to hear him say it over and over again. Looking over my shoulder, the King of Dreams stood there still a few yards away. With a downright devious smirk, hands in the pocket of his rich black coat, he spoke, “I suggest you do well to go to bed early and get a restful night’s sleep. We wouldn’t want our plans to be interrupted.” My face burned hot and liquid fire shot through me. That wicked asshole. I playfully glared at him, shaking my head, and watched him finally walk away. We both knew full well how loaded those comments were and how now I was going to be anticipating the moon to rise just so I could go to sleep early. Our game may have been over, but I guess we were due for a rematch.

do you have any thoughts about the perfume/cologne/deodorant of Roy or Keeley?

Oh, Keeley’s hard, because I think she’d know a lot more about perfumes than I do, and have a far better idea of what is fashionable or not. Then again, I can also see Keeley saying fuck off to fashionable and just go with whatever floats her boat. She’s sure to have a collection of scents for different occasions, selecting what suits her mood and outfit, even if she might have a few favourites that she wears more often than others.

Generally, I’d say she leans towards very feminine and sweet scents, preferably floral and/or fruity ones, rather than very fresh or very aromatic or woody ones. Amber florals, mostly, I’m thinking, or maybe a fruity gourmand.

I’d love to say Twilly D’Hermes Eau Poivrée, because I think the aesthetic of the little bottle with a bowler hat and a colourful scarf is very much up Keeley’s alley, and I do like the symbolism of the cute packaging hiding something surprisingly spicy and strong. Unfortunately, I just can’t square the actual smell with Keeley, especially since the dry down turns rather mature (read: old-fashioned). She might pick up the Eau Ginger, for the odd occasion when she wants to go all out on the sweet candied ginger, baked goods quietly having it out with a flower bouquet. It’s rarely her first choice, though.

I can see (smell) her in Valentino Donna Born in Roma, especially when she’s gearing up for a night out or day about town. There is a woodiness to it that always gives it a hint of smoke, but there’s lot of sweet floral notes as well, and vanilla. It’s pink too, so it’d go nicely with her everything. But maybe this is something she would have primarily worn a couple of years ago, back when we first met her on the show. These days, and especially when she’s at the office or doing business, I think Gucci Guilty pour femme would be a solid choice: it’s a little less in your face, still very sweet and floral but with a hint of citrus freshness to it that makes it lighter, and a quiet undercurrent of spice that lends it a certain air of elegance and (fashionable) maturity. It’s also supposed to be for “women who are truly liberated. A modern declaration of self-expression and fearlessness” and while that’s obviously marketing bullshit it’s also very fitting for Keeley, right? It’s not her party perfume, but yeah, quite possibly her everyday office choice.

For a classic, she might turn to Coco Mademoiselle, as might we all in times of trouble. When she’s feeling the need for something a little less sweet and more purely floral (and woody), the EdT Euphoria Blossom by Calvin Klein might do (if she can get hold of it, it’s no longer produced and I’m very bitter about it), or maybe something from the Gucci Flora Gorgerous line.

Roy is far easier: it is my very learned and expert opinion that he’s recently been rocking Ralph’s Club by (you guessed it) Ralph Lauren.

It’s not a hugely original scent, perhaps, but it is very likeable and not at all boring. It’s got a freshness to it, a little sweet velvety floral layer that turns the aromatic wood into something more than just your average masculine scent. It’s sleek and casually elegant with a nice (if not extremely surprising) twist to it, and smelling it I can smell Roy. I don’t think he’d want anything too out there, but if he bothers getting a perfume at all, he still wants it to be nice and somewhat fashionable (even if he’d hate to admit it) and not just out and out traditional musky spice and wood and leather. The freshness also makes it something suitable for a well-groomed athlete even if it’s very much not a sport scent. Can be worn to any occasion, too, which I think Roy would appreciate – one bottle of perfume is plenty, thank you.

Also, it comes in a all black bottle, so yeah. My main concern is that I’m not sure that Roy would care to be part of any club of Ralph’s, but I have decided that he’ll suck it up. At least he’ll be smelling nice while sulking about it.

Then and There

“There you are!” Glass Joe said, leaping out of his light brown chair. He took his round, black sunglasses off and placed it on the small, white, cafe table. “I was starting to think you got lost. What took you so long?”

He leaned against the table, sleek, dark brown shoe tapping impatiently on the sidewalk as Sandman grew closer.

“Sorry.” Sandman said, “Got sidetracked.”

“With what?” Before Sandman had the chance to answer, Joe motioned towards the food on the table, an everything-bagel sandwich with egg, bacon, and tomatoes stacked between the slices sat on a white plate, along with a side of kettle chips and a glass of water, “I ordered for you. About half an hour ago.” Joe adjusted his black turtleneck, “They’re closing soon and weren’t going to take anymore orders. It’s probably cold now.”

“All good.” Sandman eyed the water, “Kinda sad ya didn’t get me one of those small boxes of chocolate milk. Ya know, the one with the li’l cow on it.”

“I schedule this breakfast-lunch get together, I save you a seat, I order for you, and what do you do? Show up forty minutes late and complain about the beverage selection!” Joe sat back down with a huff. He crossed his legs and stared down at his sienna-colored pants rather than his friend.

Sandman’s mouth twitched, “I was just messin’ with ya, Joe. I appreciate it.” He sat across from Joe, the seat creaking under his weight. He turned his head and saw his reflection in the tinted windows of the cafe. He could just barely see the other tables inside. There were only a couple other customers in there. Most of them had a drink in their hand and maybe a small pastry.

Sandman then looked to the dusty magenta walls of the cafe, then to the neighboring brick buildings, then to the cafe’s cyan awning, then to the trees towering above with their array of autumn leaves nearly blocking the blue sky. He then watched any and every leaf that passed by. He watched them drift through the wind and slowly hit the ground, only to then have his eyes glued to the leaf and acorn-covered ground itself. He stared anywhere, anywhere else but at Joe.

He couldn’t avoid Joe forever though. This was supposed to be their morning together. They’re supposed to talk and enjoy their food, but how can they do that if they’re not even looking at each other?

Sandman’s eyes flickered over to Joe for a moment. To Joe’s plate. There was nothing but crumbs left on it now.

Sandman pulled at one of the white strings on his gray hoodie, still avoiding eye contact with his friend, “Sorry, Joe.” He finally said. Joe hardly lifted his head.

“I didn’t wanna be late, I know how much ya hate waitin’ around and it ain’t easy with our schedules ‘n all but–” His other hand clutched at his black sweatpants, “Some fans saw me. Kept followin’ me around and gettin’ in the way. Didn’t want to make a scene, so I hadda go a long route. Thought I’d take a few minutes, ended up gettin’ lost instead.”

“That’s much more than ‘getting sidetracked’.” Joe brought his head up, “I wish you had started with that instead.”

“I’m sorry.” Sandman said again, shifting around so his body faced Joe’s.

Joe sighed and rubbed his eyes, “No, no. It’s fine. I know you’ve had your troubles with fans before.” He grabbed his sunglasses and unfolded the temples, “You can’t control them, and–and I shouldn’t get upset with you, it’s–”

“Nah. I was late. I’d get upset too.”

The sweet smell of bread and the glory of autumn’s day did nothing to ease the bitter feeling in the air.

Sandman looked at his breakfast. It looked great, despite how cold it might be.

“I didn’t even say ‘I’m glad you’re okay’.” Joe said, “You finally come here, and the first thing I do is complain.” Joe stopped and took a sip from his coffee cup before pulling it away, “I am glad, by the way, that you’re okay. And I’m sorry about those deranged people you had to deal with. And I’m…” Joe faced away from Sandman and mumbled, “I’m sorry, too. For getting frustrated.”

“Hm?” Sandman leaned in a bit closer.

“I’m so–” Joe’s cheeks grew pink, “Your bagel is getting cold.”

Sandman blinked, “Right.”

He took a bite and wiped the crumbs off his face with a napkin.

It was quiet for a moment.

“I’ll forgive ya if you forgive me.” Sandman said.

Joe looked at him, mouth parted slightly before he shook his head, “What a ridiculous thing to say. I already forgave you the moment that apology left your mouth.”

“I might forgive you if you buy me one of those milks.” Sandman said. Hearing Glass Joe sputter got a chuckle out of him, along with lifting a heavy weight off of his shoulders. That little bit of attitude was what he needed to hear to know the tension was fading, that Joe wasn’t upset at him, that he didn’t hate him because of his delay.

Joe could never hate him, Sandman knew that. Joe told him there was nothing in the world that could make him hate him, but he still felt awful about making him wait.

“Well, I’ll forgive you even more if we walk around the block together. Make up for the lost time, yes?” Joe tilted his head.

“Only if we can pick up that boxed milk.”

“Oh, you and that milk! That box is far too small for your hands, and that little cow drawing on the front hardly even looks like a cow! I’m sure there’s far better brands than–”

“Ey, don’t go talkin’ bout Calla th’Cow like that.” The serious expression on Sandman completely fell apart when he saw Joe’s mouth hang open.

“You’re defending a fictional cow now?! I can’t believe this.” Joe folded his arms, “I’m not taking my word back. I tried that milk once because of you, and it was mediocre at best.”

“Wow. Calla is workin’ her butt off to make th’best milk out there, and this is how you repay her.”

Calla the Cow was a well known drink mascot in this part of the city. People saw her face in any place that sold drinks. Children loved her. They loved the variety of colors her boxes came in, they loved the little crosswords and mazes added onto the back of the boxes, and they loved her goofy, spherical design. Honestly, she really didn’t look that much like a cow. She was just a circle with a snout, goofy dot eyes, and pink cow spots. But Sandman’s enjoyed those boxed milks for as long as he can remember, and he’d be damned if he didn’t defend her.

Plus seeing Glass Joe’s reaction over a fictional cow was funny.

“I gotcha somethin’.” Sandman then said.

Joe dropped his petty anger and propped his head up with his hand, “Really now?”

“Yup.” Sandman dug into the pocket of his sweatshirt and pulled out a teardrop shaped leaf. It was a vibrant orange. At the very tip of it was a hint of yellow, while the very bottom was a deep umber color like the stem Sandman was holding. Umber also coated the bottom edges and was speckled across the orange.

“A leaf?” Joe raised a brow.

“Yup. Reminded me of you.”

“How so?”

“Looked cool.”

‘Looked cool’, that was a very vague way to put it.

Sandman didn’t know how else to say it, though. That seemed to be the best way. The only way, really. He didn’t know how to describe his thought process to Joe when his eyes landed on that leaf.

When he was walking over to the cafe, he kept his head up. He admired the branches full of colorful, puffy leaves that adorned the sky with hues of yellows, oranges, reds, and greens. He watched as they’d all get whisked away by the wind and decorate the average world with their colors. And then he brought his head down, and that’s when he saw it.

It was nearly hidden in a pile of dried, browned leaves littered across the sidewalk, but Sandman spotted its bright yellow tips and just had to grab it.

He’s not sure what compelled him. He doesn’t completely know why he went and grabbed it. It caught his eye, what else could he say?

Well, he could say how the shape of it was simple yet perfect. It looked symmetrical at a glance, but all those little tears Sandman saw along the edges, those little rips and pulls, he couldn’t help but study them, appreciate them, even for just a moment.

He could say that he loved the colors. He really did.

Despite how it was aging at the bottom, despite falling from its tree and undoubtedly being trampled by the hundreds of people who walked through the streets, despite being buried by hundreds of other leaves, despite how harsh the winds were and the intense weather that fall brought, despite everything that could’ve worn it down, it was still vibrant.

He could say how much he loved the fact there was so much in so little.

The leaf itself was quite small. It was just barely the length of his palm, yet there was so much to enjoy.

The marks, the speckles, the little holes where tiny bugs chewed through–when Sandman picked it up, when he held it up to the Sun, it was then he could see everything the leaf had to offer. To show off. It was then that he could truly love what he had found.

As Sandman handed it to Joe, he thought to himself.

He thought about how he wanted to tell Joe more. How, in a sea of hundreds upon hundreds of leaves, he had looked down at the right place at the right time to find this special one. How, despite it being an ‘average’ leaf to everyone else, this one claimed his attention. How, when he looked at it for more than a few moments, he was able to see how wonderful it was.

But he was never good with words.

Glass Joe carefully took the leaf from Sandman. He held it carefully by the stem and raised it into the air, studying it, before slowly bringing it to his face.

“I love it.” He said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.