#cannot wait to write him with you!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

70% of Tumblr users say the Dashboard is their favorite place to spend time online.

#cannot wait to write him with you!!!

truethes · 2 months

Text

❛ well ... he surely must feel a little bit familiar to you, right? ❜ query is rather rhetorical, spoken aloud with an uncanny amusement, suggestion, eyebrows raised far above irises of gold and perhaps some would consider it the slightest it too far for him to take on such a personal attack like this but he can only focus on such sadness when presented in front of him as promised to turn to grief, to rage. ❛ don't you have any suspicion at all as to why that may be? ❜ / @yeonban ♥’d!

#yeonban #❛ ♤ › shiro : 𝗶𝗰.#for the record. he's having the time of his life.#shiro gets one (1) secret and the whole entire world ends. amusement is the most important bit for him #TRULY SO APOLOGETIC THIS IS SOOOO LATE but honestly is it 2024 if they do not get the opportunity to fight once more yk HDFGHDJJSHD #cannot wait to write him with you!!!

1 note · View note

paimonial-rage · 3 months

Note

hey i'm the anon who asked the questions about lyney and it's totally fine! you can just do question 21 then i really don't mind lol<3

[Character Analysis Ask Meme]

What's Lyney's breaking point in a relationship?

It's hard to imagine, really. With how much Lyney may seem in love, the idea there's a point a relationship would be too much for him is hard to believe. But when you really think about it, his breaking point is simple. As strong as his feelings may be for you, his devotion to his family and its cause outweighs everything else. Should your relationship with him ever reach a time where it encroaches upon that which is the most precious to him, then there's nothing more he can do than let you go.

#genshin impact #lyney #lyney x reader #i think the key thing to take in here is that lyney cannot function without his family #he is extremely reliant upon them to the extent that he will become unstable without them #just look at the archon quest when wriothesley captured his siblings #any and all logic completely went out the window #lyney is an anxious insecure mess and the only thing that holds him together is playing the role he has to as big brother #if your relationship with him ever reaches the point that you transcend into being counted as his family....#he will have no breaking point #the breaking point will be his mind or body. whichever breaks first #my writing #sorry for the wait on this i have no excuses orz

52 notes · View notes

not-poignant · 2 months

Text

Birthday Spotlight - Caleb Crawford

[9th April - Aries]

(Note, some of this information hasn't yet been posted on AO3, but has been written into Underline the Red!)

Caleb Crawford, an Indian-Australian alpha who works at Hillview as an alpha companion, is known for being the alpha that blows beta Faber Castle's mind during an ill-negotiated one-night-stand sex marathon that ends with Faber sore from overuse with a bad case of unrequited love, and Caleb uncertain why Faber rejected his offer to see each other again.

Caleb is a bold, well-educated, intense, and occasionally overbearing with his partners. He is most respectful to omegas and alphas, and displays some beta bigotry which is common among alphas and omegas in particular.

'I don't think you should be alone today. Just saying, when someone dicks you down as well as I just did, maybe someone should be looking out for you.'

Underline the Red

Underline the Black - Caleb first appeared as one of the alpha companions who is supervised by Dr Gary Konowalous. We first meet him via a supervision session between the two of them, and then later again when they share a conversation about his omega, Lucien, being ready to graduate, and Caleb admitting it will take some time for him to recover from the bond being broken.

Underline the Red - Also his main appearance, Caleb steals Faber's heart after a one night stand. They don't talk nearly enough, so Faber doesn't know that Caleb's doing an interview at Hillview to become a companion until the following day, at which point his heart is broken, and Caleb is shocked and horrified.

Over time, Caleb proves himself to be a competent omega companion who is still pursuing his PhD on Omega Studies, and despite Faber's best efforts, they keep being drawn into each other's orbits, time not soothing any wounds between them.

Small for an alpha, Caleb is Efnisien's height. He has medium-brown skin, and straight dark brown hair worn in a quiff. His hair is well-maintained and styled, and he cares a great deal for fashion. He has sharp, golden eyes, and wears thin gold-rimmed glasses, as well as button-up shirts and business shirts. He likes wearing bright colours with a dark ensemble.

30 years old.

Caleb's scent is earthy and clove-like, with glittery spikes that feel almost like poprocks.

It's joked that Caleb is arrogant enough and bold enough to be more like a peak alpha than an alpha.

Unlike many of other, softer-natured alphas at Hillview, Caleb is uniquely suited to a specific kind of jealous or possessive omega that is often at risk of murdering other omegas out of jealousy. As a result his cottage is kept more separate than the average cottage, to keep his omegas as far from other omegas as possible.

Caleb learns the skill of domestic discipline to deal with his latest omega, Lucien Beaumont, and ends up in the world of BDSM as a result.

Definitely most memorable for absolutely destroying Faber's ass and being cheerfully confident about it in a sex marathon that ends in Faber falling in love and Caleb developing enough feelings to be willing to not go to the Hillview interview to keep seeing Faber.

While it hasn't been mentioned yet, Caleb cares about fashion so much that he knew who Alois Flitmouse was before anyone else at Hillview, because he knew of his fashion and clothing and role as a Perth fashion icon.

Caleb's father is a well-known secondary gender-sex academic, and Caleb initially wanted to follow in the footsteps of his father and become a professor. He landed in Omega Studies and decided to interview for Hillview after a tour of the facilities for his doctorate. He paused his PhD as a result, and often continues to work on his PhD between omegas.

Despite Caleb's bold, arrogant, and sometimes crass nature, he is extremely thoughtful, calculating, and insightful. He often sees far more than he lets on, and he has one night stands to relax his over-active, busy mind.

I was always scared that Caleb and Faber wouldn't be strong enough to carry their own narrative, and started writing Underline the Red really scared of how it would turn out. As I wrote it though, I realised these two were a powderkeg that were ready to ignite over and over again. I can't wait for the journey these two are on. In some ways, it will be much bigger than the other journeys. For a start, some of the story will take place in another country!

You're the best thing in this town and you don't even live here. Maybe we'll see each other again one day.

Underline the Red

30 notes · View notes

superhell · 1 year

Text

ok so it’s fully established that house has an incredibly hard time verbalizing his emotions (specifically the positive ones) due to a fear of rejection and a deep deep aversion to displaying vulnerability

which makes the incredibly few times he’s admitted to someone that he cares about them, well, incredible. to list every single time that i can remember off the top of my head here:

instance one: he tells stacy he loves her directly before he goes into a coma. the statement itself is undeniably romantic in nature.

instance two: he tells cuddy he loves her after they hook up and she gives him a whole long speech on how she doesn’t want him to change. this is the culmination of years of dancing around each other. the statement is undeniably romantic in nature.

instance three: he tells wilson their friendship means more to house than any patient

instance four: he tells wilson he likes him

instance five: i mean i can keep going. there’s wilsons transplant surgery there’s everything with amber theres just so much. anyway

all of which leads me to the conclusion that of the three people house has ever sincerely expressed affection for two of those are people he’s canonically in love with which means that the third one must also be someone he’s [gunshots]

#like i very much understand that telling someone you love them and telling someone you like them are two different sentences but in this #case the deviation is EXCEEDINGLY easy to explain the first two are people who have firstly already told him they love him #which greatly reduces risk of rejection and secondly in both those instances the people he's saying it to are already committed so #really what is he risking. whereas in wilson's case he displays his affections through spending time with the man when they're on good terms #and it is when he thinks he's losing wilson that he starts verbally presenting his heart on a platter. furthermore he cannot say that he #loves wilson because wilson has not firstly said the same to him. telling wilson he likes him is far lower risk than telling a man #currently insisting you're not friends that you love him. that's simply not a risk he's willing to take #anyway sorry for being crazy and writing a novel in the tags carry on #house #wilson #hilson #lisa cuddy #huddy #stacy warner #house md #hatecrimes md #also something about how wilson is the only one he verbalizes affection for throughout the show #oh fuck wait just remembered that one time he told wilson he loved him when wilson upped his pain meds in the hospital #which still mcfucking fits. anwyay

199 notes · View notes

thefrogdalorian · 2 months

Text

Four years ago today I watched The Mandalorian for the very first time!

It's a date that I will always remember because it was the first day of the national lockdown here in the UK. Luckily, it also coincided with the launch of Disney+.

I was already a Star Wars fan, so I wanted to watch the show when it premiered but it didn't launch here at the same time. But I vividly remember waking up one cold, dark morning in November and being confronted with Baby Yoda everywhere I scrolled. He definitely made me smile and made that particular commute a lot more bearable!

I was desperate to watch it but honestly, I was too busy drowning in work during my final year of University to sail the high seas. So, I waited.

And I'm so glad I did.

I truly feel like this show and the character of Din Djarin came to me at a time in my life when I needed him most. 2020 was a terrible time for me, as I'm sure it was for plenty of you, too. So being able to watch a new Mando episode watch every week was a rare bright spot in all of the darkness.

I remember leaning forward in my seat when Din repelled the Ravinak with the Amban rifle, the tension was real! But I was truly hooked when he grabbed the Mythrol and froze him in carbonite.

Who is this guy? Is he good? Is he bad?

Honestly, I still feel like I don't know for certain and I love that about the character.

It's hard to believe it's such a short amount of time while it also feels so long ago. I think that's true for most of us but I truly feel like I have lived several lifetimes since 2020. Some good, most bad.

Throughout it all, though, I've always had The Mandalorian to watch when I needed a bit of comfort and escapism from the real world. I don't think I can put into words how much joy watching it brings me, but I know you all feel it too.

I'm truly so delighted that I created this blog and carved out a little corner of the internet for me to ramble about all things Mandalorian with some fellow freaks [affectionate]. It's definitely going to help me get through the wait until the movie in 2026... it actually hurts to think that I saw SIXTEEN EPISODES in 9 months in 2020 but anyway...

Wanted to thank anyone who has ever interacted with me or said a kind word about anything I've posted in the few months I've been here. I really appreciate it! I'm so glad we all found The Mandalorian and Din in our own ways and it brought us all here together.

If anyone would like to share their own stories of how they first watched the show, I would love to hear them!

Anyway, Happy Fourth Mandoversary to myself and, as always:

save me din djarin.... din djarin save me..... save me din djarin......

#din djarin #the mandalorian #text post #spud rants #miss him so much it's SICK AND TWISTED HOW AM I MEANT TO LIVE WITHOUT THIS SHOW #come home din the kids miss you #also oneshot coming later tonight its angsty and soft and cannot wait to share it bc i'M SO PROUD IF IT AAAAH #the tin can inspires me with writing in a way no character ever has previously #he is the ultimate blorbo

17 notes · View notes

wayward-wren · 1 year

Text

I forgot how much I loved BlackSun until rewatching RWBY tbh. Sun is one of my favourite characters in the whole show and I love him so dearly and his devotion and love for Blake makes me so soft.

He followed her halfway across the world, he refused to leave when she pushed everyone away. They're such a good pairing--he lifts her up, and she mellows him somewhat. He's so genuine, he cares so openly and it's honestly so refreshing to see among a cast of traumatised individuals (whom I love also don't get me wrong)

Blake spent her whole life making decisions she regrets and running, and Sun is exactly who she needed. He ran with her--he followed her, he saw all her mistakes and said "I love you anyway." And he helped her because he loved her, not for any personal gain.

Volumes 4 and 5 are probably the weakest seasons imo, but I love them so much if only because of Sun.

#wren rambles #blacksun #sun wokung #blake belladonna #not gonna maintag beyond that tbh #like morning follows night came on shuffle and I'm here like AUGH #THEM #the scene where he's like “you pushing us away hurts more than anything the badguys do to us” stuck in my brain as a teenager #i miss sun so much #i wrote a short thing from his pov recently and I feel like I gotta write a full fic focusing on him one day #cannot WAIT for volume 10 cos we'll be in VACUO (hopefully) and maybe my BOY will be BACK #tbh i feel like sun wokung refusing to be pushed away and LITERALLY PERSUING Blake #cos he could see she needed help #gave me unrealistic standards in men #me and who

20 notes · View notes

balladetto · 6 months

Text

unprompted / always accepting / @dragetunge

"Oh Tooooothless~" The viking called out the dragon as he had a rather large grin on his face. He had woken up early this morning to surprise his dragon for the simple fact the dragon had earned it. Placing down the basket he had been heaving it was a very rare treat. Toothless' favorite kind of fish as he leaned against the baskets top to the larger salmon the fishermen brought in that morning. "Come on bud don't keep me waiting now." He teased.

He smells Him before he hears Him, the scent of the best fish mixed with the very so best human who is his precious thing sending him onto a high perch as He enters the prison-den. There is a want to warble back in greeting, excited-warm-loving as He is excited-warm-loving, but he stays silent in order to better surprise — looming and watching for the perfect time to strike.

Mischief holds him at bay while Half Of Him puts the food down. Has him shifting his hind weight from paw to paw while He chatters again, voice bright and full of teasing-teasing-teasing. The waiting and waiting lasts until finally the chance comes: in the second his human looks up past the edge of his rock-perch to unthinkingly meet his eyes.

He trills! He pounces! He cushions his landing with a big flap of his wings, but Half Of Him is very so tiny that He's knocked over anyway. It is a cute smallness in times like these, and for a few moments, he has to ignore the fish that spills out of the dead-bark thing He brought to lick several marks of "this precious thing that I cherish" onto all His skin and furs. Half Of Meeee~!

Only when he is satisfied with His smell does he move to eat, rubbing his head on gentle paws one last time. This very so best Half Of Him, come join him! Eat with him!

#dragetunge #( kris i cannot thank you enough for this absolutely ADORABLE ask #and for waiting so patiently!! the boy is FINALLY coming around in terms of writing oh my god #got early bond vibes here where the love is still deliriously like...intoxicating for too.thless because of its novelty #like that's his half of him!! that's his heart-in-another he chose that chose him back and!! [sobbing] he loves him So Much #so i am placing this in the htt.yd verse <3 a missing scene after test drive or smth...hope that's okay! )#* dragonscale / ic.#* dragonscale / answer.#* ic / para.#* v / freedom taken; freedom given.#* dragetunge & toothless / alone: we are good. together: we are best.

4 notes · View notes

lupismaris · 1 year

Text

The Opening Act of Spring- a Black Sails Fic. Chapter 3

The Ranger’s have a castle above the clouds, the delta bayou’s favorite undead son hasn’t changed much despite appearances, and we meet the patriarch of The Walrus- one of the beloved queer bars in west Brooklyn- Hal Gates.

The condo The Rangers shared on West End ave was high up in a shiny new building, overlooking the Hudson river and the west skyline of Manhattan. Silver wasn’t surprised that his sister had opted for a sleek home with floor to ceiling windows and polished wood floors, she had always day dreamed about a place above the clouds, untouchable like the men and women they conned for eating money. And now, as he and Anne stepped out of the private elevator, it seemed as if her dreams of that life, to a point, had come true. Of course the life time of suffering and blood that had gone into it could hardly been denied, but as with all things Max did, no one would know it. Grace and Elegance masked all, by careful design.

Silver whistled at the well lit space, kicking off his shoes at the door. Sunlight was starting to spill into the open concept living and dining room. The lime washed walls were decorated with elegant pieces of art, contemporary and colorful to contrast the neutral tones of the condo itself, the furniture mid-century modern with its rich honey toned wood and brass metal accents. House plants and vases of flowers, well loved and flourishing, were tucked into every sensible corner and open surface, bringing life into an otherwise sterile home, one that Silver would have expected to see in a high end magazine review.

“She’ll be in the studio, through there,” Anne said, nodding to a room past the kitchen. She handed over the bouquet of Irises. “Give these to her. I’m gonna make sure Chaz is up for work.”

“Sure, thanks, by the way-”

She waved it off and disappeared down the dim hallway.

“Right. Good talk.”

The studio had, as expected, the best lighting in the whole condo. It was a corner unit and the studio sat right at the corner, able to scrape together whatever sunlight available at whatever time of day. Silver had to guess that Max’s bedroom was graced with either the next best natural light, or the best light fixture money could buy to mimic it. The room was filled with various dress forms and metal figures, each draped in different fabrics that would, in time, become cocktail dresses and gowns. Two work benches were littered with supplies, pages of sketches and two sewing machines, boxes of sexing tools, pens and pencils and drafting tools, shelves covered in bolts of lush fabrics in jewel tones and soft neutrals. All that was what Silver expected to find, the heart and soul of his sister’s enterprise laid bare.

But over by the windows, where Max was seated, stood an easel and canvas, with several half finished canvases of varying sizes leaning against the glass awaiting their turn. A small table attended to Max’s right, carrying a tray of oil pastels and a cloth for her hands, a pair of chamois for blending, and her morning cappuccino long forgotten, its foam clinging to the sides of the porcelain bowl.

His sister had always wanted to take up the finer arts, or so she had told him, but their lives had never allowed them the time. Too much running, too many lies, too many masks, and whats more, gutter rats like them had more important things to worry about than the delicate curve of a shadow on the page or how to blend charcoal, didn’t they?

Silver stood there silently for a few moments, watching as Max blended the soft peach of sunlight into the clouds she was attempting to capture, the view from her window shifting ever so slightly so that her canvas was a perfect dream of the Morning sky. Her dark curls, coiled more tightly than his own, were tied up high on her head with a silk scarf, the rich green and gold of it reminding Silver of laurels, a perfect contrast to her darker skin.

Of them all, Max’s laurels were most deserved.

“No one likes a ghost in the doorway, mon cher,” she said over her shoulder, taking up a robin’s egg blue pastel.

“I’d disagree but I’d hate to ruin so lovely a morning-”

Her laughter was as sharp as a jaybird’s call, joyful and just a little mocking. “Oh you’re exhausting. Come on then, you’re already half an hour late as it is you cad.”

Silver felt himself smile, his first honest smile since landing at JFK, and let himself enter the room properly. Max set down her pastels and wiped her hands, twisting on the stool to face him. Her lounge set, knit leggings and loose tank top of bone white, looked soft and well loved. She wore no make up, the only colour on her cheeks the stray smear of blue pastel along her cheek bone from a misplaced finger, and the only jewelry Silver could see was the delicate gold bracelet he had given her years before after their first big score.

And a simple gold diamond ring on her left ring finger.

“Well now when did that happen?” Silver asked with some astonishment. He’d expected a phone call if not a photo if Anne had finally popped the question after years and years of domestic bliss.

“It hasn’t, it’s a place holder,” Max said, though the soft blush in her cheeks meant it still meant the world. “She grew tired of people presuming things, had me pick out something classic until we could custom order something better. You know I wouldn’t choose a diamond for the final product.”

“No you had always been partial to pearls or emeralds, I remember that.” Silver kissed her temple and passed over the irises. “These are from her by the way.”

“Thought as much, you never bring me flowers.”

“No I bring you shiny things worth stupid amounts of money and leave the romantic gestures to your beau.”

Max rolled her eyes and got up to find a vase for the flowers, leaving Silver to poke around the studio like a curious stray cat. “I imagine those gifts are still at your hotel, since you look like shit and Anne said she found you drunk in a bathtub this morning?”

“Mmm it wasn’t my best wake up call I’ll give her that.”

“You don’t drink, mon Cher, I take it Jack’s plan didn’t go as well as he hoped?”

It was a question, but Silver felt the rhetorical tone even with his back turned.

“Did you suggest it to him or did he think it up all on his own like a big kid?”

“Now now don’t be too cross, it could have been worse.”

“How exactly? With Flint gutting me in public? Strangling me in an elevator? Tossing me off a balcony? Or do you have a more romantic kind of murder in mind?” Silver asked dryly, dropping onto the vintage loveseat by the windows.

Max set the vase of Irises on the closest work station and turned to face him with a sigh. “Are you finished feeling sorry for yourself? Or would you like to wallow in self pity for a few more minutes?”

“Few more couldn’t hurt.”

“You’ve had more than enough time I think and I don’t want to hear it.”

Silver pushed his sunglasses up onto his hair and blinked and the sun filled room. “As you wish. I’m just saying it was a dick move. And I’m a little surprised at you, shacking up with Flint after all this. When you were the one who knew before we all did that it was worth it in the end.”

Max crossed her arms and leaned back against the workstation, taking in Silver’s haggard face, bloodshot and shadowed eyes. “More than just a drink then hm?”

“Oh I’m sorry if it was Ellie would you have done better?”

It was cruel and he knew it. His sister’s eyes hardened for a moment as she considered him.

“Yes. Because I did the work you haven’t.”

Silver sighed and turned his gaze to the window.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she said after a moment, “You abandoned us. You had the opportunity to stay and have a real chance at something better and you walked away, so what I choose to do in my business ventures is none of your concern, Silver. You gave up that right.”

“Then why ask me here?”

“You abandoning us does not mean we have chosen to abandon you.”

It took effort not to look up as she crossed the room, coming to sit on the love seat next to him.

“Even if you’d rather we did,” She added.

“That- that’s not-” He sighed, turning to her and shaking his head. “I don’t wish that, you know I don’t.”

Max smiled at him and reached up to tuck a few stray curls behind his ear. She said nothing, just let his empty lie hang lifeless in the space between them for a moment, before asking about his flight in from Istanbul.

He had never been able to lie to her, and she had never been able to lie to him, not in any way that had mattered. Little white lies and surprise parties were possible, sure, but when it mattered? Eventually it would unravel, the fibers fraying and thinning as they tried to spin them, faster and faster until they were left empty handed and shamefaced. The only lie that stood was, in a sense, a shared truth- that neither of them had existed before their meeting, that their lives had begun the moment they had met in the back room of a dusty and dirty whore house in some city they pretended to forget the name of. Before that there had been nothing. That was the only lie they would permit.

And maybe it was better that way. Maybe it was better that Max knew Silver was lying when he said he didn’t want to be forgotten, abandoned to his self made misery while she and her lovers built new beautiful lives for themselves in castles on clouds. Because otherwise he’d have to admit it out loud, admit that he wanted to play the martyr and be left to the consequences of his mistakes.

That he didn’t think he deserved a second chance.

Some people didn’t deserve to be saved, right? Didn’t deserve to prove themselves bettered? Maybe, just maybe, he was one of them and the best thing he could do was let that be the case. Especially if it meant he didn’t have to acknowledge that he had in fact made the mistakes in the first place.

But he’d never win that argument with Max, not if she had it in her head that, for whatever reason, he was meant to be a part of their bizarre new lives.

Did he resent her, and the others, a little, for said beautiful new life? Despite it being everything they had bled for all those years? Yes.

Did it make sense? No not even remotely.

He found himself chewing over the thought all afternoon as they had an early lunch, the other Rangers joining them in the dining room. Rackham tried to be a gentleman and offer Silver his one punch to the stomach over drinks-gone-ary, but Silver refused him with a tired laugh.

“Let’s keep a running tally for now,” he said, letting Rackham pull him into a hug. “I’m sure you’ll earn another soon enough. Besides, I think both of us have had our nerves shaken enough over the last twenty four hours-”

Rackham laughed and kissed his cheek as he let him go. “Haven’t we just. There is nothing quite as terrifying as that man stalking you across a room. I thought I’d forgotten that fear but no, no, it has been thoroughly reintroduced to my nightmares after yesterday.”

It had never left Silver’s dreams, the way it felt to have Flint watch him from across the room, move with him, appear suddenly at his side like a phantom.

“You try bein’ in a fuckin kitchen wit’m,” Vane said over his shoulder, his rumbling voice raised slightly to be heard over the rhythmic thud of the knife against the cutting board. “One moment you’re alone gettin’ mise set no body but christ to talk to n’the next he’s there raining hellfire down. If he didn’t announce himself he’d get gutted for scaring a man.”

Rackham sat at the breakfast bar so he could watch Vane cook, “That’s a trait you share darling.”

“Doesn’t mean I gotta like it on him now do I?” Vane asked, feeding Rackham a slice of radish with salted butter.

Silver fought the urge to roll his eyes. They’d become bizarrely domestic and exhausting in their retirement, Rackham smitten in his expensive lounge wear and Vane wearing an apron with his name embroidered on it, putting the finishing touches on a cheese board and salad while the spanakopita finished baking.

It would have been gross, in the way it was for you to see your best friend mack on their new beaus. That is, if Silver wasn’t ultimately struggling with the concept of Vane as a kept house husband who fixed lunch for his roommates and only had a job to keep him out of trouble and wore, of all things, embroidered aprons.

Silver could distinctly remember the day he learned that Vane had removed another man’s head for pissing him off, after all. He had seen the aftermath alongside Max, her ex and the rest of the Guthrie smugglers. It wasn’t something you easily forgot.

Rackham had done the truly impossible. He’d take the wild thing and domesticated it, just enough to fool to world into thinking it had always been so. Silver made a note to never question his capacity for sex, romance, or sheer power of will ever again.

If nothing else, the embroidered apron was going to take a lot of getting used to.

He said as much later that afternoon, relishing the loud burst of laughter that rang out in reply.

“If Jackie hadn’a spent two days makin’ the damn thing-” Vane shook his head, his long hair tossing as he did. “Shoo ain’t catchin me wearin’ another that’s for damn sure. Jackie made it, understand?”

Another park, this time across the bridge, with a stunning view of the river, the sparkling glass and metal skyline of Gotham across the way. Silver had followed Vane to Brooklyn once lunch had finished, Max and Rackham off to a busy afternoon of fittings and model interviews for the summer look book, Anne joining them as she often did. So Vane had found Silver a spare helmet and pulled his vintage Harley out of the private garage, slipping the valet a few bills on their way out of the back entrance in a way that felt very routine, and they made their way to Brooklyn, slicing through traffic.

Silver watched the various pedestrians pass them by, the two of them seated comfortably on an ornate promenade bench, Vane’s bike parked a few feet away on the curb. “Still, considering you used to pitch such a fit about things like that? I distinctly remember you giving Flint so much shit whenever he told you to wear a shirt. Or say please.”

Vane snorted, all sharp teeth as he smiled in amusement. “Mmm but it is fun fuckin with that old queen innit? He cared far too much about respectability when it didn’t right matter n’he knew it, but it made him feel better to scold about it anyhow. Sense of control when it was all falling apart.” He shrugged. “Just cause Jackie get’s me playing nice doesn’t mean I believe it. Just means I believe it enough for his sake, you know? Makes him happy, makes him smile, so I believe in it enough to bring bout that result and keep one foot toeing the line should Jackie forget they don’t play fair. Means, end.”

There was that all encompassing “They” again, alongside a shadow that Silver thought he recognized, of the man who’d burned off his own finger prints at 13, who never quite understood Flint’s need for decorum, but seemed perfectly at home with Silver’s deeply rooted fear of commitment.

“And the means of working for Flint?” he asked when Vane didn’t continue.

“Mmm.”

There was a pause then, as Vane watched the clouds slowly roll in over head. A small, ghost of a smile played on his lips, as if he’d remembered some little joke that Silver wasn’t party to.

“Why I get the feeling you been asking this question all day?” he asked in turn, rolling his head over to look at Silver. “It’s eatin’ you up real bad innit, us tolerating each other again?”

Silver looked away with a sigh. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Shoo, does anything about any of this? Johnny we stole the world out from under those fuckers and what’d I get in turn?”

On the expressway below the promenade, a truck’s exhaust backfired. Smoke, the smell of burning oil filled the air for a moment as the clouds continued to shift over head, memories taking shape in the altered light as Vane continued.

He hadn’t been there, the day Charles Vane had died. It hadn’t been long after he’d lost his leg and despite a clean amputation and proper antibiotics, his lack of rest had lead to an infection. Silver had been laid up in a safe house for three weeks, during which Vane had been captured on a raid.

“A noose,” Vane continued, “A coffin. If it had gone any different, if a fucker had been a smidge less upset that afternoon-” he laughed again, a darker, older sound and dropped his head back to look up at the clouds. Silver could see clearly the scar the rope had left, resting where his adams apple should have been, faded slightly with the years but haunting them all the same.

In the small courtyard of Rogers’ largest factory town to fall, Charles Vane had been strung up like the animal the world had thought him to be. Silver had learned later that some small speech had been made, the warden being kind enough, or stupid enough, to give Vane parting words. Whatever was said had been the last bit of fuel for the fire. In the riot that followed, his body went missing.

Silver had never been brave enough to ask him how, whether it had been sheer dumb luck or all part of a grander plan. Something told him that Vane would just level him with that tired, oddly wise look, and just smile, before changing the subject entirely.

“You and Flint tried to kill each other. More than once,” Silver reminded him, trying to change the subject. “Couldn’t agree on anything-”

“Who says that’s changed?” Vane shrugged, getting to his feet and stretching his arms high above his head, cut sleeves of his work tshirt riding up to show the faint edge of old scars long the underside of his pecs. “Said it before, Say it again- ain’t no body making that queen into a trophy but me.”

“Yeah but-”

“’Sides, something healthy bout that if you askin me. We different men, sure, he may be soft, but only I know just how so. Certain kinda intimacy you only get with a man you decide to be the end of, one way or another. Wouldn’ you agree?” Vane’s smile was teasing as he pulled out a cigar from his bag and fished around for his lighter. Silver pulled out his and waved for him to lean in.

Vane did so and held still, lips pulling at the cigar while Sliver lit it, smoke curling around his tanned face. “Thats a kind of love ain’t nothin’ gonna replace. Not comfort, not peace, not gold. Not even sex.”

Their eyes met as Vane pulled back, Silver feeling pinned under a gaze not for the first time that day. It was all he could do to stare back at the gray eyes that shifted behind cigar smoke.

“You used to want comfort, now I think bout it,” he continued, “easy comfort even. Mmm. Now you lookin more like me every day, Johnny. It’s a lean look on you. Pity we never wanted to be the end of each other. Otherwise, I think we’ a been interestin, you and me. Guess I gotta leave that to the old queen.”

Vane patted Silver’s cheek when he didn’t reply and moved around the bench towards his bike. It was time to head to the bar and for Silver to disappear back to Manhattan. That was the safest thing to do.

“Vane.”

“Mm.”

“You’d tell me if he wasn’t retired.”

Vane straddled the bike and puffed at the cigar for a moment. Silver didn’t look back at him.

“If he was out of retirement, I’d be out of retirement. Game’s not fun without that fucker in it.”

That might have been the truest statement he’d heard in the last 24 hours. Silver sighed and nodded, letting his head hang and his body sag into the bench a bit. He listened as Vane kickstarted the old bike, the engine revving to life.

“Make sure ya get home before the sky opens. Don’ want them findin’ ya in the gutter-” came Vane’s shouted goodbye before the roar of the bike echoed away down the street and Silver was again left with the settled ambient sounds of the promenade and the dark clouds building overhead.

The patriarch of the Walrus sat in the alley when Vane’s bike pulled up, where he could almost always be found before the happy hour rush began, his heavy form settled comfortably into the old bar chair they kept propped up against the wall. Hal Gates looked up with an unimpressed look, tired eyes peering over the reading glasses that sat on the tip of his nose to read the now forgotten copy of the week’s Brooklyn Daily Eagle that sat on his knee.

“Bout fuckin’ time you got here,” he said flatly as he watched Vane park his bike with a laugh.

“Shoo I got five minutes n change, can’t fault me for that-” Vane paused to pull out his lighter, which had been in his front picket the whole time, and relight the cigar.

“You know damn well that’s not what I’m talking about you shit. You want to tell me whats got him in a fit this time?”

“Why should I know, boss?” Vane flashed him a sharp smile and climbed off the bike, grabbing his bag from the saddle box.

Gates sighed and pushed himself to his feet, tucking the newspaper under his arm. Vane had a couple inches on him sure, the cocksure attitude that drove some people to the edge, but Gates didn’t need to posture when he closed the space between them. Two steps across the alley and he hummed in tired amusement as Vane watched him expectantly.

“Because,” Gates said simply, reaching up to take the cigar out of Vane’s mouth, “He’s looking for you.”

With a sharp smile of his own, Gates helped himself to the cigar and returned to his chair. Before Vane could make his no doubt clever remark, or at least follow up on the cigar stealing, the back door to the kitchen flew open.

“Ah, there he is, on cue-” Gates murmured, puffing at the cigar and going back to his paper.

“Now wait a goddamn-” Vane tried to say, as Flint came out of the open door like a wolf from a cage, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. The momentum of his movement had them stumbling backwards, Vane pushing back against him, the two of them half wrestling on their feet.

“Where the fuck is he?” Flint snarled. “Where- So help me Vane I will break your fucking jaw where is he-”

“Fuck is that gonna do- break my jaw ya cunt how is that gonna-”

“I know you’re a part of this Rackham can’t keep shit to himself-”

“Hey what’d I say about ya goin’ for Jackie-”

“Jackie can go to hell unless you tell me where the fuck he is!”

Flint managed to get his ankle around Vane’s, getting him off balance enough to shove him back against the alley wall. He kept one hand in Vane’s shirt while the other closed around Vane’s throat, threatening but not so tight that he couldn’t get the words out.

“Tell me,” he repeated.

“Get fucked.”

“I will make you talk so fucking help me Vane-”

Vane smiled, all top teeth, and pressed into the hand at his throat. “How ya gonna do that hm?”

Flint didn’t move forward, the way Vane’s goading invited him to. He could feel the slightest pressure of Vane’s hand against his stomach, it acted as a warning. Sure enough when he glanced down, Vane’s trusty old butterfly knife was resting against his shirt, the same empty threat as Flint’s hand around his throat. Vane held his gaze with a lazy, hungry smile that called Flint’s bluff with the satisfied smugness of a card shark. Flint hated him in moments like that, hated him deeply. It would have been so easy to tighten his hand and squeeze, but only if it were anyone else. Vane knew just how to make good use of that butterfly knife.

“If you two are quite finished stroking each other off,” Gates said after a moment, “I have a bar to run and happy hour starts in twenty minutes.”

It took a moment, but with a snarl and a huff, Flint shoved Vane against the wall and stormed back inside without another word, leaving Gates puffing at his cigar and watching Vane toy with his butterfly knife.

“So you want me on bar or-” Vane asked.

“Oh no, he will be on bar. He needs to be on a tight leash tonight and I will be holding it, thank you. You keep your head down and behave yourself on the line please or I’m calling Jackie.” Gates folded his paper and stood again, pushing his reading glasses onto his head and gently stubbing out the cigar to save the rest for later. “Do I even want to know what this is all about?”

“Silver’s back in town.”

Gates blinked, then sighed with a decade’s worth of resignation. “My personal twink from hell. Fantastic.”

He stopped Vane just inside the kitchen. “Don’t tell the boys. Not yet, not with Flint so keyed up about it and all. We don’t need it to be a bigger mess that it clearly already is.”

“Shoo, alrigh’ boss.”

“Go on with you then. I’ve got a hell-hound to keep in line tonight.”

Vane’s laughter followed him through the kitchen. Said hell-hound was braced against the darkest corner of the bar, staring into a glass of dark rum.

“Are we talking about this?” Gates asked.

Flint glared at him from the corner of his eye and knocked back the rum. He poured himself another drink and put the bottle away.

“Alright then. You’re on bar with me and Muldoon-” Gates held up a hand as Flint made to argue. “No. I don’t care. This is how it is, am I clear?”

The alternative was, as it was for every member of staff (Gates included) going home for the evening. If Flint went home he’d spend the night driving himself insane or worse, wandering the city, tapping into contacts and allies, trying to eliminate all place where Silver couldn’t be. If he was at their bar he could at least stay tethered to something that felt like reality, at least for now.

“We can talk it over after close tonight,” Gates added softly, resting a hand on Flint’s back, “Figure out a plan if you like. But you know you can’t be in the kitchen with your head in the past.”

After a pause and a slow deep breath, a bit of tension eased out of Flint’s shoulders.

“Fine.”

Gates rubbed his back for a moment. He grabbed the rum bottle again and topped off Flint’s drink, before pouring himself a matching glass. The bar was mostly empty, one high top occupied by someone with a beer and a book, a booth hosting a late lunch date, one regular nursing his aviation at the end of the bar. They could take a moment just the two of them.

“We’ll figure it out, Jamie,” Gates told him, knocking the glasses together. Flint nodded weakly and said nothing, taking up his glass, tapping it gently against the bar top, and downing it with ease.

Across the street, watching the foot traffic and cars pass the brick street front of the Walrus with its custom neon sign and myriad pride flags catching the growing winds, sat a busker. He was a familiar sight on the block, playing his bass guitar under the scaffolded walkway to whatever audience would stop to listen. As the sky opened up and people hid under the scaffolding, his audience grew for a time.

Amongst them, a young man with a camera who was as interested in the bar across the way as he was in the busker’s performance. Silver had to admit he was grateful for the cover, between it and the storm, not a soul from The Walrus, patron or crew, noticed him.

Yes it was risky, even with one of his casual get ups on (you’d be surprised how often people ignored trucker caps and hoodies), and no it wasn’t like he thought Vane or the others were lying.

He just needed to see it for himself, needed to see Flint’s retirement happily ever after with his own eyes for it to seem real. Or so he had thought.

Seeing it in that moment, seeing Flint slip out front for a moment and stand under the awning to have a smoke, his attention fixed wholly on the storm clouds overhead-

It didn’t help. It just sent him running back to Manhattan with his metaphorical tail between his legs.

#my fic #opening act of spring bs mdau fic #black sails fic #black sails modern au #silverflint #silverflintham #john silver #max black sails #charles vane #hal gates #james flint #for anyone wondering Vane is Appalachian born but grew up in the mississippi delta and louisiana areas #i cannot put into words how much i love writing this fic and writing him and writing hal and writing flint HHHHH god #i love these men these ridiculous stupid men #Anne and Max are just lovely #i can't wait to reintroduce you all to everyone AUGH

9 notes · View notes

zorkaya-moved · 6 months

Note

“ don’t you understand? i love you. and nothing you’ve done, no matter how much of a monster you think you are, is gonna change that. ” from :) kaveh :)

@avaere

It feels like this is something that happened before, but there is dissatisfaction with his words. She does not deny her logical viewpoint of herself from the point of view of a normal citizen of Teyvat, but it’s not something she thought Kaveh would speak of. He is acutely aware of her hidden sides, but she is doing her best to open up because she promised to him to be more honest. He asked to be let in and she does so, bit by bit by trying to open up, expose sides others will never be privy to. He does not see the faux happiness and sunshine she represents before the scholars and citizens of Sumeru or the public of Teyvat. She is known as a sunflower, as a woman with a stubborn streak, bright mind and even brighter potential to help others without asking much in return. Sumeru knows her as the light, as the guiding star, as someone who keeps their happiness and their future bright. A reputation built over more than ten years, hearts won over by lives saved and help offered when it was needed so much as if she knew where issues would start. Beloved silver flower of Sumeru who may show her thorns if someone disturbs or insults her experiments, her job, and the passions she clearly showcases in public.

But Kaveh is allowed to see what happens behind closed doors. He is allowed to step into the house that is her internal world, he is allowed to catch glimpses of reality that is not so bright and sunshine-like. He now sees the sharpness of her tongue, the subtle cold and analytical looks, he knows of her ability to read people and her ability to turn the conversation favorably for herself. The architect is allowed to hear more honest words about those they are surrounded by, the way she may rationally explain why the present rule of Sumeru is not exactly beneficial for the current generation and how she denies being a Sage solely because it will limit her opportunities as a scholar. Kaveh is allowed to see past comedy, he is allowed to learn and know the truth behind Zarina Sokolova.

And yet, as much as he is allowed and let in, slowly studying everything that she is… The words spoken by Kaveh suddenly strike her as odd. The internal denial of her natural skills in reading people makes the metaphorical cup of concern spill, exposing the growing concerns that continue to be ignored to ensure that Kaveh himself will open up. As love meant trusting the other person with everything you are, the learning slope was supposed to be tough, but Sokolova slowly started to notice more and more about her beloved that started to concern her. The switch of topics, the denial of care, the mentions of injuries she hasn’t heard of from Kaveh himself, and more instances that caused her to start thinking on how to properly approach this topic with her beloved as to not push him into anything.

However, the gentleness she usually would attempt to use to approach certain sensitive subjects would be gone for this very moment. Perhaps, the word ‘monster’ caught her attention or perhaps her speaking with several people prior to their meeting today caused her to finally allow herself just a tinge of analysis. Not like she never analyzed Kaveh before, on the contrary: she learned his behavior, she studied his expressions, she memorized his body language, and she knew exactly when he’d wish to be left alone or when he’d need her by his side. Reading him now wasn’t hard, but solely because of that she did not allow herself anything more… breaching. As she did not have the same emotional output as the architect did, she approached his mental and emotional state with more caution because of care. Not that he was fragile, but certain topics may be fragile to him while not being to her. It was a natural deduction, but sadly… Her straightforwardness won today.

“I am well-aware but I’m having doubts you understand that it’s a two-way street, Kaveh,” she tilts her head to the side, not hiding away her confusion. There is no gentleness in her gaze nor is there the tenderness she usually gazes upon him when she tries to gently offer him a listening ear. Zarina doesn’t enjoy arguments with the architect, knowing full well that he sees the world differently from her and vice versa. It does take time to understand his point of view, but when she lacks information, it becomes harder to comprehend. Manipulation is easy because there is no care, but genuine attempts to understand his point of view clashes too hard with her survival of the fittest mindset. “It’s not all about one person, it’s about us learning more about each other, relying on each other, and supporting each other. However, it seems you…”

Suddenly, she snaps out of her deductive state, signing out and closing her eyes to massage her temple for a second. The silverette understands he must have his reasons, but she hopes to at least hear about his well-being in an honest manner. At least, that. Ranting, venting, screaming, crying. It doesn’t matter how negative, but he does and should and must not always show her the positive, he must let her see the negatives as well. Just as she tries, step by step. It’s not something she ever wishes to push him into or force him into, which is why Zarina finds herself letting out a soft groan while trying to word what she means in a better way instead of coldly analytical.

Kaveh said it to be supportive, but that is very much the issue as she comes to a crashing understanding. He doesn’t seem to care enough about himself as he cares about her, and it makes her think she does the same without yet knowing just how indulgent and selfish she is. He gets glimpses, the richness of alcohol, the outfits, the people who speak with her, the accessories, the parties, the attention she obviously basks in now that he had the time to learn of her extravagant behavior for the sake of entertainment. He learns, but will she ever learn more about him? What will he let her see?

Another sigh, Sokolova opens her eyes to study her lover’s face. It makes her wonder if he worries he’ll burden her. Such kind-hearted souls like him always worry about that. But the difference is that others do not matter, but he does. She’s always been told that love is a two-way street where love persists despite, but there is a flicker of concern in those golden orbs while looking at the architect. So now, Zarina reaches out to take his hand in hers. A physical contact to prove she is here and she is not going away, but also to keep him here. (Don’t run away from me.)

“Do you understand that I, too, will love you no matter what, Kaveh?” Her voice adapts that gentle note as well, gaze returning to soften the molten gold and cool it off so it won’t be so brightly shining. “Do you think I expect you to be perfect? I do not, you can't be perfect. There is no perfect human in Teyvat. Anyone who seems perfect is simply good at hiding their negative traits, but we all possess them because we are humans.”

Kaveh seems to never listen to others when they show worry. Not only that, she rarely hears from him where he got his bruises or cuts until she points it out. Why not tell something so important she so obviously can assist with, monitor and check in? His girlfriend is a doctor, but she also does not wish to pressure him which now starts to make her relook at her approach. Perhaps, she was incorrect in ignoring her own deductions and studies. The architect is the only one who knows how he feels and what his pain points are. Maybe being too cautious might actually harm them in the long run, but she still approaches with clear concern and love for him.

“I think you are good at hiding what truly hurts you or worries you,” she confesses, not looking away from his face to see what subtle expression changes will appear. “I think you have things you fear telling me because there is worry that my perception of you will change in a negative way.”

Another silence to linger, to study, to wait out a moment to let those words sit there and become another weight to her attempts at showing him it’s alright… to someday open up. Not even today, but someday. To try. At least, to try. Nothing more. He doesn’t need to do more. An attempt, a try, a wish to try.

“If you will love me even if I might see myself as a monster, why do you act like I will not love you if you do the same to yourself? Perhaps, not a monster, but still something negative,” she does not continue her train of thought, thinking it’s not needed and it’s better left unsaid. Her hands keep his in her tight hold, but also can be easily broken if he pulls away. “I’ve seen the worst in people, Kaveh. And there is nothing you feel, experience, or have gone through that will make me see you in a different light. I only wish to learn more about you, to understand you better, to hopefully offer a listening ear, to be there for you. Because I love you.”

Because I want to be your support where others will never be. “You don’t need to keep this honeymoon phase going, Kaveh. I’m not here to only love your good sides, I won’t leave you no matter what,” her thumb caresses the back of his hand. Does he understand she means every single word? “I want to love you for everything you are. As you are willing to do for me. Can I ask you… to try? To try and trust that I will never, ever see you differently or love you less when you let me in?” It’s simply impossible, it’s impossible to not love him for her. “Not today, not tomorrow. Maybe not this week or this month, but… someday. Because... No matter, I’ll wait for you. I'll wait until you're ready. Because nothing can make me love you less, nothing can make me see you differently.”

There is nothing more she wishes than to give him anything he wishes for. She just wishes for him to show some selfishness, something he wants only for himself. The only time she heard that he said he wanted something was on his birthday when he said he wanted her, out of all things he could ask for, he asked for her. Thus, he'll have her and she'll wait while loving him eternally.

#avaere #i teared up writing this #zarina just wants kaveh to know she'll always be there for him #because no matter what he says to her she isnt changing her view on him #solely because she knows what SHE has done cannot be worse (aside dottore)#so its just!!! she will always remind him he's not a burden and he never is a burden #she may wait for him to open up but from now on he'll be hearing more from her in terms of reassurance and reminders #you are not a burden. you are always welcome to ask for more. i'm here to listen. you will always have a place here.#all of the gentle words and reminders until someday maybe she can dream of him opening up bit by bit #maybe. or maybe he never will but even that won't stop her from waiting because she promised.#IM SO INSANE ABOUT THEM #❄ ― IN CHARACTER. ╱ you breathe by the sun，i breathe by the moon.#﹙kaveh | avaere﹚ ♥ | ― i'll enter the shadows to protect your light. ❞

4 notes · View notes

gojoest · 6 months

Note

i got good news for u: i started writing a kishibe one shot and i will probably publish it later today if i finish it teehee

omg omg I AM SO EXCITED ! ! ! please tag me so i don’t miss it :3

#[ ai—mail ]#ᓚᘏᗢ — meowtuals #i will feast !!!!!!#you write him so well i cannot wait to read it #btw your ask from the other day — i am thinking hard ! it might result in a drabble of some sort we shall see

2 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs