#and its been veeeery distracting

[lilisette]

god they're so...... i cant choose....

xavier has my heart but rafayel is getting to me... zayne is hmm... hes nice but yeah. i got distracted by the other two.

i'm always a sucker for xavier's type, aloof, seemingly emotionless at first but once you get to know him, hes this cute awkward guy and its FNQFGQGQG

cute/innocent looking guys aren't usually my type but when i realized hes basically a wolf in sheep clothing type i just. i'm sold. the way he lures mc in and teases her MAN.

zayne is... i'm still not sure about him actually, i like the back and forth mc and him has though! its cute and mc mistaking his ice seals for snowballs is LMAO. poor guy is hurt hahaha

anyway yeah. new hyperfixation acquired and i KNOW i am done for.

[ervotica]

loved up?

pairing; fred weasley x fem!reader

series; the bestfriendverse NEW! (ongoing)

warnings; allusions to self harm (reader), pining, idiots in love (but they don't know it yet), a lil sad but also fluffy

synopsis; fred gives you - his obviously platonic best friend - a cuddle in the common room. an interrogation ensues.

a/n; i'm veeeery rusty but i'm back bitches!! and proud to present.... the bestfriendverse. turning this into a lil series of drabbles (& hopefully longer chapters) if my brain keeps braining for long enough. so requests are muchly appreciated and my inbox is always open. cannot wait to explore these two in more depth!!! missed you all </3

You're halfway into Fred's lap when George and Lee round the corner to the common room, melty soft and warm with your legs over his thighs, eyes closed and lashes brushing at the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

He smells lovely.

He feels even lovelier – that soft rumble of his chest that lazily pushes its way through you, his hand at the side of your neck, keeping you nuzzling against him like a needy kitten. He hikes you further up and you preen, eyes still closed, half asleep and well on your way to drooling on his shoulder.

You stretch and wheedle your arms underneath his own until your shoulder is squeezed beneath his armpit. He makes room for you, as expected.

"Oi! They're having a love-fest in here!" Lee says. You groan and dig your head further into Fred's neck. Your heartbeat ticks up when he scrubs a sweeping circle over your back with his palm outstretched –you don't even mind when he rucks up your t-shirt.

You diligently ignore the hammering in your own ears.

The other end of the settee dips and George's weight settles at your back, knuckles brushing at the back of your neck in a way he knows makes you bristle and squirm. You squeak and make to dive behind Fred.

"Leave her be, Georgie," Fred says, mock offence dripping from his every syllable. His arm lifts instinctively and he ushers you right under until you're well and truly squashed, your whole body curled inward against his chest. It's endearing how seriously he takes defending your honour. "We were very comfortable before you interrupted, you silly sod."

"I resent that comment."

"You resemble it, more like."

George gasps in faux horror. You tip your head upwards just in time to watch Lee throw his arms around the pair of you, a devious grin on his face.

You know what he's going to say, no matter how much you wish he wouldn't.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you two looked proper loved up. Wouldn't you agree, George?"

"Absolutely."

If Fred feels you deflate, he's gracious enough not to mention it. Your lips purse and you busy yourself picking at your cuticles.

"Shut up," Fred snorts as though the thought alone is utterly ridiculous. Your heart does this awful sort of flip-flop that knocks the breath right out of you– it leaves an ache that carries right down to your toes.

You try to disentangle yourself from him as smoothly as possible. You want to run and hide from this conversation, the very conversation you've been rehearsing over and over in your head for months.

Being in love with your best friend isn't for the faint of heart.

Fred clings when you attempt to slide out of his grip, tugging you right back into his side. Heat rises to your cheeks so fast you feel faint.

Honestly, you might pass out right now.

Lee's already distracted, animatedly discussing the next upcoming prank with almost concerning fervour. Fred absentmindedly fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt as he listens.

Godric, you're burning up.

You can feel George's eyes on you. You know what he wants to say – can picture it right down to the pitying look in his eyes. He's always been the more observant twin.

You don't want to hear it.

Fred won't let go no matter how much you fidget. You pick at your nails until red pools at the edges of your cuticles. The sting prickles at your eyes.

"Hey." Fred's attention snaps to you suddenly. "What's the matter, lovie? You feeling alright?"

Fucking hell. He must be doing it on purpose, surely. Your throat burns.

"Nothing," you croak. "I'm okay."

It's just convincing enough for him to leave it, though you're half sure you'll be questioned later.

He smears a kiss to the crown of your head before he stands and it almost finishes you off.

That boy is going to be the death of you.

[dnangelic]

-Comes out of nowhere with no warning- I've always been really curious about this, but what would Dark think about a place like Penacony's Dreamscape world?

@guhamun

WOAHHH GUERILLA SHI IN MY INBOX alkadk this one actually isn't too difficult to answer but i will disclaim that i haven't played HSR in such a long time and penacony was around where i started falling off, so my HSR lore might be a bit fuzzy. anyways, that aside, one of the most important manga arcs (imo) is baku's (as in a dream eater baku) and their whole thing is veeeery similar aesthetically to penacony's dreamscape in some regards. dark gets a face full of it by surprise at first meeting and here's his reaction

'no good, it's too tacky, what the hell is this?? it’s pissing me off.'

it's somewhat ironic that the phantom thief who's meant to be part 'magician' in occupation finds the more surrealist/light-hearted 'circus' aesthetic gauche, but it's also completely true to his character; he craves class and mature, sensual elegance, he wants confident, grounded subtlety that seductively catches the eye, and not the sort of harsh, las vegas style neon-noise that penacony's filled up to its corners with. between all of the flashing lights and slot machines, the creepy mascots worshipped everywhere, the talking food and walking billboards, the drunkards puking literal rainbows, everything to him is 'too much' and therefore unbearably annoying. to him, it's all forcefully trying to snatch for attention (which he hates!) and fundamentally feels like it's trying to distract from the uglier parts of the city, which are the sorts of places he knows (that as a criminal!) he's going to have to crawl though and thereby witness the absolute worst of. dark is not a gambler or an easy addict, he's not an escapist, (just an escape artist,) he's not even an unjaded innocent --- which is why it's only daisuke who would look at penacony with oblivious wonder and think it was amazing (at least at first,) just like with baku ^ up there.

anyways, back to dark since this was supposed to be mostly about him. he's always the more suspicious and guarded half, but his senses are still good. there'd be a constant deep nausea and malaise that he couldn't shake off (yet couldn't quite name) inside of the dreamscape. for him, something bad is definitely lurking, and not even the quieter rooftops he'd take refuge upon can dispel that feeling. penacony at its base feels hollow and inverted; dark would be sharp enough to realize that he's pretty much a bird in a fishbowl or a fish in a bird cage, penacony itself being a repurposed prison (and a literal portmanteau of 'penalty colony') iirc. the controlling families within it don't bother him, he deals with people like those all the time and has his own pride as a solo thief, but it's hard for him not to feel something else --- just a drop, of pity, a little hollow and apathetic snideness, for the rest of the people wandering about the dreamscape. the ones who wholeheartedly love it, who gave up their real lives to live in a dream, the ones who don't want to face anything and only want to enjoy themselves, the small avoidances that can so easily turn into deeper problems. to quote his watching everyone during insomnia arc:

'they're gonna live like that forever. i don't know whether that'd be fun or not.' for dark and likewise daisuke, they can always leave a place like penacony as readily as they arrive. the only real 'rule' is that because it's a dream, daisuke's form becomes even more flimsy and 98% of the time he's going to be dark since dark himself is daisuke's dream. dark alone wouldn't want to say any longer than they ever had to in a place like penacony, though--- for him the whole place is just one long eldritch-escher nightmare. it fundamentally offends just about all of his aesthetics and his personal character!!

[waffleweirdo]

On the topic of vestigial rules in dnd 5e, 5e is honestly a pretty cluttered and unnecessarily difficult system for new players, which sucks because it’s popularity vastly eclipses every other system to the point that if someone is trying ttrpgs for the first time it’s veeeery likely to be 5e.

The worst way to get someone to understand a system is to hand them a hundred page rules book. 5e lacks both a clear central fantasy and focused rules to support any central fantasy. Instead it has fragments of systems so that you can ‘kind of’ create any sort of generic fantasy, which isn’t really the case. The rules don’t really let you play a harsh survival campaign, or help you manage political turmoil in courts, you can’t really create Legolas, but dnd attempts to give rules that kind of work for all these things. Ultimately though this creates a bloat of rules that end up being distracting to new players and ultimately pointless in a vast majority of games.

Today I was helping my friend as he was teaching new players how to build characters for the first time, and the amount of times I had to say, “that’s not really important” or “don’t worry about that” as they had no experience and essentially a giant boon of gibberish in front of them which doesn’t really help them understand what they need as new players (or if it does it’s buried somewhere that they can’t easily uncover without help), was frequent. In reality creating 5e characters is pretty simple, but to someone who hasn’t trained their brain to navigate the rules and zone out 70% of them it’s overwhelming!!

Honestly other games like Monster of the Week and LANCER have, in my experience, been much easier to learn. They both have very specific styles of play and types of narrative that they encourage. MotW is really good at simplicity and immediate clarity in its mechanics, but even LANCER which has a variety of in-depth rules and interactions in its combat due to heavily focusing on tactical combat encourages you as a player to build a character and mech in a way that makes sense because you have a clear goal.

I say all this not because I dislike 5e. I’ve played 5e for years and some of my fondest ttrpg moments stem from it. But largely my play group had to shoehorn the game into working how we wanted. Ignoring a bunch of systems, home brewing constantly, and frequently ignoring or changing rules to fit us. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this! But I do think there are a variety of other ttrpgs that are much more focused and have rules to accomplish the specific style of game that you want, and are a lot easier as starting points because of it!

Anyways that was meant to be short, but unsurprisingly I ended up rambling. I just want it to be as easy as possible for new players to learn how fun ttrpgs can be!

[weaselle]

hard agree

here is a screenshot from a listing in my area i found last year. If you have trouble with decimal points or can't see the picture, that's a one bedroom home for over a million dollars

I make 22.50 per hour, which after taxes comes out to about 3k per month. The mortgage and taxes on this house would be more than 9k per month. Plus you'd have to give them 300k up front just to qualify for the mortgage.

but that's the town i work in not the town i live in. And it's from like a year ago when prices were a little higher

so here's some listings from today in the town i live in. lets see

on the "bad" side of town you've got this 1 bedroom house for 599 thousand:

closer to the center of town you can get this one bedroom condo for 650k (condo means when you buy it you don't even own the building, you just own the unit, it's like buying a single apartment from an apartment complex)

or if you want a place with some land, you can go out to the edge of town and get yourself 4.7 acres with a one bedroom house on it for only 2.2 million

and let's just see what's happening in the town i work in, ah yes here's a one bedroom condo for 875k

and since the cheapest one on there is 599k, let's look at what a 600k mortgage looks like

ah yes. Only over 2k per month more than my total income

y'know, as long as i can give them 150k up front to qualify.

well, lets look at rent then. Aaaaaand it turns out that while i CAN find one bedroom rentals for only 2k i have to sort through this

and even if i do find something for 2k per month that leaves me a thousand dollars for everything else. Let's check that out

car insurance ($100) gas ($250 because i have to commute) phone ($50) electric bill ($150 because PG&E are criminals) internet ($50), clothes (call it $50 per month means i buy like 8 items a year including shoes) groceries (jesus christ if i'm veeeery careful it costs me like $500 a month to eat) health insurance (i currently can't get health insurance but when i had it, it was a little over $200) water ($150)

oh look barely surviving costs me $1,500. Plus the cheapest rent i can find puts me at $3,500

and i'm earning like $2,880 after tax working my $22.50 an hour job

LUCKILY my parents are dying and need me to live with them. And I love them, but also they do fuck me up to live with. So, y'know, very privileged to be able to live here with the people who keep my mental health at its worst while i watch my mother die of cancer. Yep. Everything is, just, like, working out super great. Good thing I'll never be able to own a home or retire, that might really distract me from helping the rich get richer.

Oh hey, remind me, what was my incentive to not burn down the seat of government, or steal all the federally insured money from the banks, or murder every politician who has been instrumental in creating this situation? Because i just can't seem to remember why i wouldn't do those things. I know there must be some reason i wouldn't want to do those things... must have written it down with my retirement plans

saw a house that sold for $80,000 in 2014 now going for $400,000. ten years later. We have to start killing

[hanniejji]

date me, please. oh, we're already dating?

[ kaedehara kazuha x s/o ]

summary: drunk and utterly wasted is kaedehara kazuha. but he's also drunk in love. it's a good thing you are too.

notes: was typing the phoenix fic but i have to get this out of the way so I DON'T KEEP GETTING DISTRACTED GOD DAMN IT KAZUHA | m.list

words: 928 | warnings: alcohol ofc

you're about to punch venti into a pulp.

by the time your group had left the tavern, it was already dark and most of the city folk were already tucked inside their home, with the exception of a few knights and drunkards outside who greeted you a good night… and a concerned look at the boy hanging over your shoulders.

"i want… a ukulele!" he gushed, giggling uncontrollably, "did you see,"—he cuts himself with a giggle—"that one bard with a small… a veeeery small! oh it was a tiny little thing! with strings!"

"yes, i saw love. i was there with you."

the walk to the inn was quiet, only his occasional rambles of traveling, the things the wind tells him, and the random giggles that he does.

archons, he's adorable.

it didn't take long before you reached the inn, lugging kazuha over your shoulder across the stairs and to your room. the man simply fell into the bed like a sack of potatoes, plopping on the soft sheets with his whole weight. yet his face sports a dreamy smile—his eyes are still closed and he resumes his faint whispers of his dreams.

"you better be glad i love you enough to deal with this."

with slacking limbs and weary drowsy eyes from exhaustion—not to mention it's been a long day of traveling for the two of you, with the addition of xinyan—you quickly went around the room to clean up, taking a damp towel and a glass of water with you to the bedside table, taking a seat besides a giggling mess of a kazuha.

"love, are you asleep?"

he muttered something in response, eyes still shut and a loopy smile.

despite the extra weight on your way to the inn, you can't deny that the sight of kazuha being vulnerable and loose—albeit with the influence of alcohol—does not make you feel a little at ease. he doesn't make it look obvious, but kazuha had always been on the guard for something. perhaps it had been a natural thing for him to be cautious and careful even from his younger days, but it certainly makes you happy to see him having his moments to let his guard down, even for a while.

you just hope it won't always be from the influence of alcohol, he can barely handle a few drinks.

you press the damp towel on his forehead, wiping down around his face. your other hand thread through his hair, combing and taking it out from its usual ponytail.

at your concentration and inner state of mind, you failed to notice how his half-lidded and woozy eyes opened to stare at you. sluggish, but desperate to touch you in some way, he wraps his hand weakly around your wrist.

"love?" you glance down at him quizzically.

"am i your 'love'?"

"huh?"

he squinted his eyes right back at you, lips tilted to a pout.

"you called someone 'love'. am i not your 'love'? do you call someone else your 'love'?"

you couldn't stop yourself from huffing, amused. however, this only made him frown, an uncharacteristic whine coming from him and his hand that was holding your wrist flails in a mini tantrum.

"whyyy? why, why, why? why not meeee? are we not lovers?"

"kazu—"

"noooo," he whines, taking your hand to place sloppy kisses on your knuckles, "you can't call me by that name! date me right now! call me love! i love yooou, it's not fair!"

you just hoped that no one would complain about the loud laughing fit you made at this time of the night, but can they really blame you? here he is, drunk and being the most adorable idiot there is. who are you to not find this endearing?

"love—" you grin at the satisfied happy hum he made at the pet name, "—we're already dating."

his smile fell to a shock look, gasping audibly and his eyes lighting up, putting the moon and the lamp beside you to shame.

he looks very much awake—and breathtakingly handsome—despite being wasted.

"w-we are?"

ah, he looks as ecstatic as he did when you first reciprocate his feelings.

"yes, we are, love."

as if to accentuate your words, you litter kisses all over his face, grinning at the chimes of delighted giggles and slight upward tilt of his head. his face is practically asking for more kisses. flustered and pink in the cheeks, yet his drunken state seems to diminish his sense of bashfulness.

"i love you," he sang.

"i love you too, love."

he looks so content right now. his rosy cheeks lifted into a precious smile that only tempts you to kiss them—which you did, as you should—and the happy little giggles that he makes. you place another kiss on his nose.

"get some rest, love. we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow."

he doesn't resist this time—probably because he got his dose of affection from you—easing into a curled position on the bed, your hand is still in his. the smile on his face softens, eyes shutting and his voice more sluggish.

"can you say it again?"

"which one, hm?

"say… say you love me again."

almost immediately, you leaned close to his ear, kissing just above his ear.

"i love you, kazuha."

"aga… again?" he drowsily asked once more, slipping into a peaceful sleep.

"i love you, kaedehara kazuha."

and i'd repeat it however many times you want me to.

"i love you too~"

maybe you won't beat venti into a pulp. for now, at least.

[cxsmicmyeon]

MORALS AND DREAMS ; KJM [M] (SNEAK PEEK)

incubus! kim junmyeon x fem! reader

new jobs are always known to be extremely nerve-wracking. especially if said new job is directly under the ceo of the company you’ve been at for years. it didn’t help that said ceo was nothing if not mysterious and devilishly sexy. but when you start to have strange, sexual, lifelike dreams involving him, your job becomes a lot more difficult trying to stay professional. but little do you know, ceo kim has a demonic secret up his sleeve.

genre: supernatural + ceo! au. smut wordcount (for this sneak peek): 556. projected word count: likely 4-5k warnings: explicit sexual content (IN A DREAM)

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

author’s note: here it is!! i hope you all enjoy this little sneak peek of my halloween fic!! i’ve been planning and writing this baby since august, and i hope to have it finished and out by the week of october 25!! hopefully after i kick this midterm’s ass i can finish it up!! hope u all enjoy <3 tagging: @yeol-jae​ @exo-l-atina​

Four hours into your first day and you already felt yourself drifting off into a daydream.

While you were skilled in many fields, you, like most, were prone to procrastination. While others would scroll through social media or partake in hobbies over doing their hours at a desk, you usually got lost in your imagination. Often staring into space for a little too long, you knew as soon as you saw a clear image in your mind that you were not going to be available for a little bit.

You laid your head onto your desk, blinking slowly as your mind began to construct the image of CEO Kim. The image of CEO Kim that began to walk over to you, cup your cheek and smash his lips onto yours. Not realizing how unprofessional you both were acting, you kissed him back, tugging on his tie as he walked you over to his desk. Said desk that he bent you over on and began to pound into you as if his entire life depended on it. You could only gasp at how realistic this felt, as if his hands were actually gripping and squeezing your breasts, as if his cock moved in and out of you better than any other man’s did, how your name left his lips as if it were a mantra. The repetition of your name, however, made its way back to reality.

You felt yourself being shaken awake by someone. You jumped, eyes quickly opening as you jolted up, wiping excess drool off of the corner of your lip. Your surprise only grew as you made eye contact with the very subject of your dream.

“Are you alright? I heard you gasping and saw you laying on your desk.” He asked with a worried expression on his face.

“Yes! Yes, I’m so sorry I fell asleep, sir. Rest assured, I’m fine.” You answered, your words a little too quick for your own good. You looked down, discreetly wiping more drool off of your desk with the sleeve of your cardigan.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?”

“Um… yeah. And I got a little distracted earlier as well. I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“It’s okay, please don’t be worried. It was hard for me to sleep last night as well,” CEO Kim placed a hand onto your shoulder. “Were you having a bad dream?”

You sputtered, eyes widening as you looked down at your shoes. It was anything but bad. “Yeah. I was being chased by bears. Veeeery scary stuff.” You lied, shifting in your spot as you fidgeted with your hands.

“Ah, I see. Well, I hope you’re feeling okay after that. Take a few if need be, but otherwise, try to get back to work.” You sighed, relieved that he bought your lie.

“Will do, thank you sir.” You chirped. He smiled curtly before turning on his heel and walking back to his office. Taking a deep breath, you turned your chair back to face your computer. You shook your head a few times, deciding to take CEO Kim’s advice and take a quick breather. You stood from your chair, legs wobbling slightly as you power walked to the bathroom. And as you passed his office, you missed the humongous, devilish smirk on CEO Kim’s face as he watched you.

[grayfilmsandstuff]

Hi!!! Is it ok to ask for a romantic madcom matchup? It's ok if not! <333 I'm 5'3 tall and my skin's pretty pale since I rarely go outside, including short dark brown hair, I wear glasses and I struggle a lot with socializing in person without getting nervous/getting very distracted. Like, when talking to someone in person I sound pretty calm yet hesitant but when talking on text I sound very happy and charming-

I would really need to hold something to keep myself calm, otherwise I go full anxiety mode. I also love them cuddles and plushies- Lots of my friends say that I'm very kind/supportive and take well feedback, but I kinda struggle seeing that about myself (aka low self steem), I also love drawing and making comics and stories, playing videogames too!! I'm also she/her, autistic and I'm very quiet-

There you go! Again, it's ok if not! Thank you anyway <33333

yes yes here you go!! again im really sorry this came out so late ive been real busy as of recently aggdwgdjd

I match you wiiiiiith...

Auditor!

- you met Auditor because you worked for them as a mag agent keeper. you would make sure the big guys were healthy and fit to fight and Auditor took a liking to you because of your gentleness

- you went well with them because they're often very stern and the one giving orders, so when the two of you have a conversation they're the one doing the talking for the most part

- they also understand when you're uncomfortable or need a moment to regain your posture and such

- they are. not good with physical affection. but they try their best and you think it's quite cute

- you get stressed and anxious a lot, and Auditor can always tell when you need something to hold so they'll just hold their hand out to you and you'll take it. they get all blushy and it's really sweet

- cuddles are something reserved for when they're in a good mood. when you do cuddle though, they wrap their arms around you and allow you to get comfortable and you allow the rest of the world to fall away because the only thing that matters to you is where you are right now

- whenever Auditor is struggling with something you'll always be their little cheerleader, giving them really motivational messages either on notes laid around their surroundings or out loud

- they adore your drawings and think your style is so pretty! if you ever draw something for them they keep it in their room in a safe place so they can keep it for a very long time

- you enjoy playing video games during your time off but if they ever offer to play with you, you feel bad because you know for a fact that you're going to destroy them. they are not very good at games

- one time the two of you were playing a first person shooter and they ended up at the very veeeery bottom of the leaderboard with 0 kills and 16 deaths

- "hey y/n? honey? how do you shoot again? i can't- oh. nope. i'm dead. how do they always DO that?!"

- "Audi i love you but you're so hopeless"

eee i love the idea that audi is like real stern on the outside but when its just them and their s/o then they're really sweet but still awkward as heck hehrgr

[tickle-bugs]

Certain Comforts

Summary: Bones is...not fond of leaving their warm, comfortable bed--especially when they could be lying in Spock’s arms. Spock, however, is very fond of his partner being on time for their meetings. Nonbinary!Bones (who uses they/them!)

@groovyfluxie: May I please request a cute Spock x Non-binary Leonard McCoy where Leonard is veeeery ticklish and Spock decides to be lovingly mischievous and tickle them? (I thought my own request too cute to resist sending it in but changing Reader to Bones!)

Like it says above, Bones is nonbinary and uses they/them in this fic! I am also enby so this prompt made me Soft. Enjoy!!

“Leonard.”

“Mmn.”

“Leonard.”

Bones squinted angrily from a crack within their blanket cocoon, hissing at even the minimal influx of light. 

“It is getting quite late.” Spock unearthed as much of Bones’s face as possible and gently kissed their forehead.

“Time?” Their voice floated up from within the layers. 

“11:30. You have a meeting at 1:30.”

“G’night.” Bones pulled the covers completely over their head and sunk deeper into the mattress.

“No.” Spock felt around the top edge of the blanket until he could grab a corner and start tugging it out of Bones’s grip. 

“‘Leggo.”

“You know I cannot do that.” Spock tugged harder but the blanket didn’t budge--at least, it didn’t budge towards him. The blanket corner flew out of Spock’s hands and was promptly consumed by the mound in the bed.

“Then cuddle with me.” The demand was muffled by the layers but it still brought a smile to Spock’s face.

“You are ridiculous.”

“Are you cuddling or not?”

“Not for long, but yes,” Spock sighed, and the blankets opened like some sort of mythical gate. Spock hummed at the pleasant warmth while Bones tugged him close, draping their arms over his body. Bones tucked their face into the crook of Spock’s neck and, within seconds, snored their way back into hibernation. 

If there was anything Bones had taught him, it was the art of indulgence. Although he would have liked to have started his day in the early hours--as is proper for anyone in Starfleet, regardless of rank--Bones’s sleeping face was enough excuse to stay put. Spock closed his eyes and focused on the warm body holding him tight. 

It was not necessity but warmth that pulled him back to sleep, floating in and out of dark unconsciousness. To be held by a lover in a time of unrest was a blessing all on its own, and Spock gave into sweet indulgence like a stone returning to the sea. 

He blinked awake an hour later, rising quickly and gently from the depths of sleep. He pushed the blanket away from his face to peer at the bedside clock. 12:30. Hmm. 

“Leonard.”

“Hng.” Bones pressed their face deeper into Spock’s collarbone.

“If you sleep any longer, you will be late.” Spock tried to pull away from Bones but they held him tight, throwing a leg over his body for good measure. They whined sleepily, attaching more and more to Spock until he finally stopped resisting. 

“Don’t care,” They murmured, pressing a sleepy kiss to the back of Spock’s neck. The attention was very…persuasive but the blinking green numbers of the clock were ultimately more compelling. Bones sighed softly, showing no interest in their responsibilities. Spock looked back towards the clock.  

He’d been nice enough. 

Spock latched a hand onto Bones’s hip and pinched until they too were compelled into consciousness. 

“Spock!” They tried to roll away but Spock grabbed their knee and pulled it back over his body. He wiggled his fingers under Bones’s knee and they yelped, curling up against Spock’s back. 

“Yes?” 

“Stop!” Bones choked out, grabbing fistfuls of the back of Spock’s shirt. 

“You desired affection and I am providing it.” Spock scribbled over the back of Bones’s thigh, clawing up and down in neat, maddening little lines. Bones’s laughter rose and fell in pitch as Spock conducted them with his evil hands. 

“Not like this!” 

“If you agree to start your day, I will relent. What is your answer?” Spock pushed Bones’s leg off of him, using the momentum to climb atop their thighs and pin them more thoroughly to the bed. He rested his fingers atop their ribs, slowly scribbling over each rib and divot. Spock opted to do what Bones wanted rather than what they expected, so he rapidly poked in a circle around their waistline. 

“N-No!” They swatted at his hands but the accuracy was embarrassing, especially for a doctor of their caliber. Watching them try to suck in their stomach to avoid his fingers only fueled the sudden playfulness within him. 

“No?” Spock raised his brows and leaned back. Bones’s eyes widened to saucers as a goofy, nervous smile overtook their lips. They grabbed his wrists but he shot his hands beneath their arms, pressing just so to make Bones writhe. 

“Spock!” Bones shrieked, arching their back into the mattress. They shook with helpless, wheezy laughter, desperately pressing their arms to their sides. 

“You are fond of saying my name but you refuse to answer my question.” Every twitch of Spock’s fingers made Bones jump, and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t endearing to watch them squirm. 

“Fine! I’ll get up! I’m up! Let gohoho!” Their voice broke over a bout of particularly violent laughter and Spock relented, rolling off of their legs. Bones sunk into the bed with a huff, tiny snickers falling from their lips. The rise and fall of their chest grew less desperate until they seemed relaxed.

Too relaxed.

“Waitwait wait!” Panicked laughter erupted from Bones’s core when Spock vibrated claws into their lower stomach. They kicked their legs and tried to twist away but every motion brought them closer to Spock’s waiting fingers. 

“We had a deal, Leonard,” Spock chided with a smile. He rapidfire poked along Bones’s pantline and made a quiet noise of interest when their voice got stuck on high-pitched, frantic giggles. He chased that beautiful sound with pinchy fingers and Bones hid their reddened face behind their hands. 

“Stop it!”

“Get out of bed.” Spock countered, still pinching. Bones pulled Spock down into a kiss, sweet and slow, bringing them both down from the clouds. 

“Distracting me is hardly fair,” Spock murmured, pulling Bones’s bottom lip between his teeth. Bones hummed, clearly pleased at Spock borrowing their signature move. He gently threaded his fingers through their hair, smiling at the way Bones would twitch when his fingers strayed too close to their ear. 

“Not my fault you’re easily distracted. I’ll see you after the meeting.” Bones pecked the tip of his nose and fled to the bathroom before Spock could indulge in their laughter any further.

[putflowersinmyhair-callmepretty]

The fate of a nun (Finan x OFC); part 7

GENERAL A/N: Hi there! This story is my first attempt to write a fanfiction. English is not my first language, so feel free to let me know how to improve my writing/language skills 😊 I will try and post a chapter per week, let’s see how it goes! The story takes place in season 3 and you will notice that I have used some of the sequences and dialogues from the tv series, changing them to include my OC. I did try not to be too colloquial and informal with my writing -giving the time of the story- but I preferred to make it more enjoyable and “readable” than realistic, same goes for Finan’s accent. I’m nervous and excited to share my work, hope you enjoy! Bacini, Cate.

A/N: Hiiiii! Sorry for the long break, I’ve been veeeery busy with uni :( Happy New Year and I hope you like this chapter, cause I love it!

Summary: The life of the young novice Aoife completely changes when the Lady of Mercia arrives to the Abbey of Wincelcumb. Oaths, battles and love will turn her in a warrior.

General warnings: Violence, Blood, Strong Language, Smut, Fluff, Graphic description of violence

Chapter’s warning:  Blood and little of Finan in this chapter.

Chapter Six.

Chapter Seven: Cenric

Abbey of Wincelcumb, Mercia, five years before. The harebells brushed against Aoife’s ankles, leaving an itchy kiss on her soft skin, and she laughed lightly. She had few memories of her mother, but every time the breeze moved her hair, it felt just like her touch. “Quick, quick, child!” Sister Aeskel mumbled patting her back lightly “Always so distracted! God really takes special care of you, I’m surprised you haven’t fallen into a ravine yet.” she growled in her thick Northumbrian accent, but she was trying to suppress a smile. “But you wouldn’t let me die, would you, Sister?” “ Course not! I wouldn’t waste precious help!” Aoife’s cackle was covered by a drumming of hooves, so close that the ground under her naked feet trembled. A beautiful black horse was galloping up the hill, right towards them. “I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.” Sister Aeskel cried terrified, but Aoife was not scared, nor believed that the horse was an omen of the apocalypse. As a punch on her stomach, a memory came: a young Aoife was running her small hands on the smooth coat of a horse and her mother was begging her to be careful, a worried look on her ripe, sweet face. “Aoife!” the Sister screamed, pulling her aside just moments before the horse trampled the ground she was standing. It did not stop, running straight towards the Abbey. On its back, a body lay pathetically, like one of those rag dolls sprawled in the corner of her room. “Sister, ‘twas a person!” “I know child, I’m old not blind! Come, quick! Try not to harm yourself until we’re at the Abbey!” There was a library in the nunnery, a square room with the four walls covered with books from floor to ceiling. When she was six, the Abbess forced her to read each of those books. “Books clear your path to Heaven. A full mind is a full soul” she used to say, and at the time Aoife was too scare to disobey; little by little, she started enjoying reading, which pleased the Abbess greatly, and many months before her fourteenth birth she had already read every book in the room. She especially liked the pictures, she would run the tips of her fingers on the lines, her touch light as a feather, careful not to ruin the thin parchment. There was one particular image that intrigued her: a deposition of Christ, his body covered by a thin cloth. The man, lying on the infirmary bed, reminded her of that image. He was sleeping, his breath shallow and heavy. A sheet covered his waist, and a wide and deep wound run down his chest. When Aoife and Sister Aeskel reached the Abbey, the horse was neighing loudly and banging his hooves on the ground. The man had fallen down its back and was now laying on the stairs, a puddle of blood widening under him. Four sisters had hurried him in the nunnery, where Aoife, frozen in horror, had watched Sister Aeskel trying to save his life. “He will live, Aoife.” Sister Aeskel approached her with a motherly smile “Can you please wash him?” She still had his blood under her nails, pressing uncomfortably again her skin and she tried to brush it away on her smock. No matter how hard she tried, she could not take her eyes off the man. He had red hair, messily falling to his broad shoulder, harsh skin burnt by the sun and strong features, with a wide jaw and high cheekbones; she had met men before, bishops, priests and farmers from the village, but no one as handsome as him that even now, passed out and covered in sweat, resembled an angel. She dropped on the chair next to his bed and without thinking about it, took his hand in hers. She knew then that he would be her despair. “Are the ropes tight, Aoife?” She felt weak and feverish, her fingers trembling on the knots. “Aoife!” Sister Aeskel insisted “I need your head to be clear for once.” “They’re tight, Sister.” The nun nodded, gripping nervously the iron poker and pulling it out from the fire. Its red, angry spike made Aoife’s stomach turn. The man’s wound had infected and poking it with burning iron was the only remedy Aeskel knew. “Keep his head still, Aoife.” she ordered. They had moved him on a wooden table, and he was lying unconscious, ankles and wrists tightened with thick ropes. Aoife stuck between his teeth a thick piece of leather, then, with a hand on his cheek and one on his forehead, she kept him down against the wood. “Pray for him, child” Sister Aeskel whispered and pushed the spike in the open wound. There was a moment of celestial peace, then the man squirmed in pain, an animalistic scream exploded from his throat and Aoife was crying, shouting her apologise over his shrieks and she had to push him down with the entire weigh of her body, Aeskel prayers a distant noise in her ears. It lasted not more than a minute, but at the end Aoife was exhausted. Her limbs were shaking violently but she forced herself to pat a fresh cloth on his face, cleaning the sweat and tears from his eyes and skin. His eyelids quivered under her touch and his breath was short but deep, and she smiled gratefully, thanking God for the miracle. And then, she met the palest eyes she had ever seen. The man was awake, for the first time in days, and a weak smile cracked his harsh features. “Are you an angel?” he whispered and passed out again. She entered slowly, careful not to drop the tray with ale and food, while keeping the door open with her hip. “Sir?” she called “I bring food.” He was sitting with his back against the wall, legs stretched and a book on his thighs. He has been awake for a couple of days now, healing faster that she would have expected. Aoife had brought him food since the day he had woken up and he still hadn’t addressed her, and each time she grew more annoyed with the ungrateful man and his surly attitude. He shot her the usual glance, followed by a nod and she stepped closer, putting the tray on the table. She smoothed the creases of her skirt and stood, right in front of him, with her arm crossed. She could not stand ungrateful people, even less being ignored. She felt like she deserved a word of thanks, or at least some kind of acknowledgment. And her sisters too. “Why are you here?” He looked up, an amazed grin on his thin lips “You should change your tone, nun.” She gestured her unveiled head “Clearly, I’m not a nun.” “Why are you living here, then?” “I do not own you an explanation.” “Neither do I.” “I saved your life!” He chuckled coldly “You did not. I clearly remember your pretty face right in front of my eyes, you could not be the one pushing the iron against my flesh, lady.” “But I was the one who took care of you afterwards.” “You expect me to thank you?” Aoife raised her arms exasperated and, with a last venomous look, she left the room. “I apologize, lady.” Aoife did not look up from the herbs she was grinding. She was being difficult, of course, the man’s attitude was annoying, but he had not offended her seriously, not enough to deserve her silence. But, in that world that had stripped her of most of her freedom, her voice was the only power she still owned, and she was allowed to decide who deserved her time. He had not offended her seriously, but he had still been disrespectful and she would not waste another moment being kind to him. “Lay down, lord.” she instructed, and still pushed him down before her words could reach his ears, just because she felt the urge to treat him like a child. God would forgive her, he would even laugh, she was sure of it. Despite her prideful thoughts, she could not help but admire his pale bare torso, the soft blonde hair covering his chest and the bright red line of the healed wound. He had a mark on the base of his neck and the desire to press her lips on that area shook her to her core. “Yeah, just skip this part of the story, would you?” Finan mumbled, eyes fixed on the dancing flames. Aoife blushed, both for the cold breeze and the embarrassment of her words, and nodded quickly. Somewhere, deep in her soul, she acknowledged his jealousy and the small, sinful fairy in her, who enjoyed Finan’s attention more that her Christian education would allow her to, smirked viciously. At some point while she was talking, his hand had dropped in her lap and she had held it since and with every stroke of his rough thumb on the back of her hand, she felt her heart rate speed up. “Of course, yes. Where was I?” She spread the poultice all over his irritated skin, careful not to hurt him. “It shall fasten the healing.” she explained coldly, all her attention fixed on what she was doing. Still, she could not help but look up when his hand closed around hers. The man was already watching her, with a tentative smile, and when he noticed her attention, he retracted his hand quickly and she found herself missing the warmth of his touch on her skin. “Lady, I must apologise for my previous words. I did not intended to offend you.” She scoffed, getting back up and stepping away “You did offended me, lord. You can or cannot tell me who you are, it is not in my powers nor my intentions to force you to tell us what you might desire to keep a secret. And I apologise for demanding it.” She was rushing her words, afraid that if she would stop, she would not find the courage to keep going “However, you own words of thanks and an explanation to my Sisters that had sheltered and took care of you, only with kindness, but you’ve been patronizing us and treating the people that are healing and feeding you with arrogance.” she collected her mortar and pestle “You could be the king of Northumbria, for all I know, but this is the house of God and before him we’re all the same.” she smiled coldly and with a little bow, she walked to the door. “I am no king, lady.” he raised his voice to hopefully stopping her from leaving. She turned around slightly, watching him with her eyebrows raised. “I am no king, lady. I’m just a man and you can call me Cenric. If you’ll allow me, I will tell you my story.” Under his hesitant gaze, she smiled tenderly “Thank you, Cenric. I’d be honoured.” It was a cloudy, calm spring day, but the summer was coming, she could smell it in the breeze. The lord was walking slowly, carefully leaning on a wooden stick she had grossly carved during the night. Sister Aeskel had asked Aoife to take him for a walk and she had more than gladly obey, she was craving any piece of information over the man. He was breathing heavily and Aoife asked him many times if he wanted to rest somewhere for a while, but he was as stubborn as a bull and every time she pointed out his fatigue, he sped up his pace, so she stopped asking, humouring him to prevent his wound to open again. They walked for a while in silence, and she patiently let him enjoy the clear air and peace; wherever he came from, she was sure there was no place as restful as the gardens of the Abbey. Somehow, they ended up in the stables. Cenric’s majestic black horse was the only one in the stalls and was chewing hay slowly. “Poor thing” Aoife said lowly “It must miss running.” She could feel his gaze on her skin “She sure does, she’s always being restless.” he stepped closer and the horse pushed her face against the palm of her owner. Cenric caressed her with long, slow strokes and gestured Aoife to approach them. “Put your hand under her nose, let her smell you.” The horse sniffed her deeply, tickling Aoife’s wrist with her warm breath. She couldn’t help but laugh lightly and the sound amazed the animal that shot her a wary look and then pushed her long face against the girl’s shoulder. The strong, affectionate touch took Aoife by surprise and she stepped back, losing her balance. She felt Cenric’s strong touch against the small of her back, sending shivers down her spine. Aoife held her breath, careful not to break the perfection of that experience. No man had ever touched her before, not even a brush of fingers, and the pressure of Cenric’s hand on her was secure and strong and made her head spin. It was just a moment, though, then he drifted away to run his fingers through the mare’s coat; she mimicked him and it felt like the most precious velvet under her fingertips. “What’s her name?” she asked then timidly, she hoped he would not notice the shortness of her breath and the blush on her full cheeks. She could hear him smile through his words “Godiva.” “Godiva!” Finan turned around shooting a knowing smile to the black mare that was grazing grass a few steps further. “Ye’.” Aoife smiled fondly at the creature “A valuable gift.” “He must have loved you dearly.” Finan noticed, watching her through his thick eyelashes. Aoife could not meet his eyes, fearing that she would break in tears in front of that stupid fire “Shush, let me talk.” “She must have cost a fortune.” “She was gifted to me.” Cenric answered and his amused smirked appeared under Godiva’s neck “You’re a curious little thing, aren’t you?” She smiled brightly “You promised me you would tell me your story.” He chuckled, watching her intensely “Indeed I promised. What do you want to know, lady? You can ask me freely.” “I have to ask?” He raised his eyebrows, a blank expression on his face, and with an exasperated groan she pointed at his chest “Who hurt you? And how? And why?” “So many questions…” “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” He rolled his eyes “I will, you eager woman, but I’m tired and sore. I say we rest for a while.” The sun had begun peeping out from the clouds and its warm kiss tinted Aoife’s face of a dark pink; she took of her shoes and settled her long skirt to cover her naked feet while she sat on the soft grass. She had dragged out from the stables two hay bales, for him to sit on, and was now waiting patiently for him to answer her questions. Knowing exactly, and enjoying greatly, the effect his secrecy had on her, he took his time to get comfortable and enjoy the warm sun, a rarity in his lands. When he reopened his eyes and they got used to the light, he found her already staring at him, with her pretty, fresh face on her bent knees that she was hugging tightly. He smiled again, impressed to still be able to do it; he had tortured her enough and, as hard as it was for him to open up, she had treated him much better that he deserved and, for reason he could only associate with the attractiveness of that young peculiar woman, he was eager to guide her through the lighter path of his dark past. “There’s not much to tell, lady.” “It won’t take long, then.” He was playing with the wood stick and Aoife waited patiently while he collected his thoughts. “My father gave me Godiva.” he finally said, eyes fixed on the grass. “I was seventeen at the time, ready to leave for my first battle against the Danes. He gifted me his best horse because he was certain I would die in that battle and he wanted my last friend to be that majestic horse. I would never forget the surprise on his face when I returned home, alive on Godiva’s back. I left for battle many times after that and I returned each time. I’ve been a warrior for the past seven years and I am certain I’ll be a swordman for the rest of my life.” he patted his chest lightly “And this wound is nothing more than a misunderstanding between swordmen in the ale house down in the village. Warriors are proud people, especially when ale is involved.” he raised his eyes to look at Aoife “I’m sorry if you were expecting a compelling story, lady. My life is not worthy of songs.” She knew he was lying, or at least he was not telling the entire truth, no one would be that much secretive about such normal life. Also, she was just a nun, but she knew that no tenants could afford a horse like that, and she was quite offended he would think she was fool enough to believe his simplistic explanation. Yet, she accepted what he was giving her, hoping that time would also heal his wary soul. “Thank you for talking to me.” He looked up to her, astonished “You’re a peculiar creature, lady.”

“Aoife.” “Pardon?” She shrugged timidly “You keep calling me lady, but I am not. Just call me Aoife.” He tilted his head, in a caricature of a bow “Well then, Aoife. It was a pleasure to walk with you.” “I do not trust him, Sister.” The Abbess was standing at the window of her room, watching, if not spying, young Aoife and that ungodly man. Even from distance, she could see that their hands were brushing against each other. Months had passed since his wound had completely healed, but he had asked permission to extend his stay. “I need God’s forgiveness, Mother” he had said, and the Abbess was in no position to refuse, but she knew, without the slightest doubt, that his soul’s redemption was not the reason of his stay. “I’m not blind, Aeskel, nor a fool. They think they’re outwitting us with their sneaking around during the night, but I’ve seen them.” She turned around, and looked Sister Aeskel with her sternest glance, the other nun nodded cautiously. “We’ve always known we couldn’t force her into becoming a nun; it is not the path God had planned for her.” she reached her Abbess and they watched in silence the shy lovers laugh under the sun of the hottest summer Mercia had experience in a long time. “I’m aware of that, Sister.” the Abbess then broke the silence “But she’s our responsibility and she won’t leave this Abbey with less than the most respectful and god fearing man she deserves.” Aeskel sighed sadly “I do not trust him, Mother.” she admitted “There is something under his perfect appearance that does not convince me.” “You’re freezing, my love.” Cenric’s hands run up and down Aoife’s arms, trying to warm her up; with the sweetest smile, she held his hand, stopping his frantic movement. “It is weird, isn’t it? How hot the days and cold the nights are here.” “You balance it, though.” He trapped a strand of her hair with his long fingers “Cold during the day, the warmest during the night.” In the holy house of God, their love was blossoming like the most beautiful, strongest rose in England; every step was new for Aoife and she had blindly entrusted her soul and heart to his experienced hands. She knew he had known other women, in deeper ways that she had allowed him to know her, but she preferred not to wandered too much around those thoughts, knowing way too well that she could not compare to the beauty and wit of women outside that Church. “You’re insulting yourself, Aoife.” Finan interrupted her again sternly, squeezing her hand “I’ve known my fair number of women…” “Not interested to know those stories…” “Let me finish” he scowled her and she silenced, and his harsh features softened in the tiniest smile “I’ve known my fair number of women and your beauty exceeds every man’s desire.” he tapped her temple with two fingers “And your more brilliant than any man, king, priest or warrior, I’ve ever met.” he patted her blushing cheek sweetly “There’s still work to do on your innocence, though. But we’ll get there.” he smirked smugly “Go on with your story.” “You know why I am distant in front of the nuns, Cenric. If the Abbess find out what is going on between us, she will separate us forever.” she caressed his cheek, and his stubble tickled the palm of her hand “She has the power to do so.” “Then come with me!” he exclaimed fiercely, gripping her hair tightly “We shall escape this miserable place and ride back to Wessex, where we could get married.” he embraced her hips, pulling her body against his “And birth children.” “This miserable place is my house.” she protested lightly, yet she could not hide how torn she was. “Do you love me, Aoife?” he whispered on her lips. She did, how can she not love the man, who held her with passion and promised her the freedom and family she had ever longed? And yet again, how could love be such a selfish feeling, was she in love with him or was she tricking herself into believing she did, only because he was the key to the life she had always aspired? Her response to his offer would change forever her path, and she should have reflected more than she actually did. But she was young and hastier that she would have like to admit. So she kissed him, with such force to make him stumble backwards, and whispered “I will come with you.”

“I’m in love, Sister.” Aeskel looked up from the herbarium “Are you now?” “I am.” “You’re just a child, dear.” “Girls younger than me have already birthed children!” The nun stopped what she was doing and sat on a chair “Come, child.” she patted her knees and Aoife chuckled lightly but followed her silent order and sat on them, careful not to hurt the nun. Years had passed since the last time she had been in that position, yet wrapping her arms around the nun’s shoulders felt natural and familiar. Time was leaving its mark on her face, but, behind the deep wrinkles and the patches on her skin, she still was a beautiful woman, with big doe eyes and a pretty nose. “Listen to me, baby.” the woman said, caressing Aoife’s back and hair “Cenric is a good person, but you’ve known him for less than a butterfly’s life.” Aoife’s looked up to heaven, trying not to cry. She knew she was stubborn, and it was too late for the Sister to try and change her mind, she was to leave with Cenric. And yet, her heart was breaking in a million pieces, because escaping that place also meant leaving behind the only family she had ever had. “I cannot explain my heart, Sister. I wish I knew the words to describe such a deep feeling.” She kissed the nun on her forehead “But I leave this place with a burden on my soul.” Aeskel stiffened “Are you to leave?” The girl smiled and stood up “I will forever cherish our time together, Sister.” and left. She had packed her bags too soon. Cenric had instructed her to meet him at the stables, when the moon was at its highest spot in the sky. At dinner, she had excused herself early, as the emotions swirling in her stomach would not let her eat, and at the last lights of sunset she had already packed her few belongings. Surrounded by the silence of the dark, she had watched her feet scrape the wooden floor and waited, long enough for fear to overcome excitement. Luckily, when she was about to reconsider her choice, the moon touched the top of the dome of the sky, and she left, with her light sack and heavy heart. When she reached the stables, the cold had already pierced through her mantle and into her bones and she gladly welcome the warm of the horse’ breath. “Hello my love.” she greeted Godiva, patting her on the neck, “Are you eager to leave?” The horse neighed and pushed against her hand; Aoife grew fonder of Godiva every day and the animal too seemed to prefer her attention to those of everyone else. And so she waited her lover, patting his horse and listening to her heartbeats and the noises of the animals in the night. At some point, she slipped down to the floor and, when the first lights of the day brighten the stables, she was still laying there. No sign of Cenric. “That’s it? He was just gone?” Aoife smiled sorely “Just like fog. Nobody saw him leave or had the guts to tell me that he did, but he was gone.” she chuckled bitterly “The coward took his time to go to my room and leave his weapons as a gift. How generous of him, right?” “I really don’t know how I should answer to that, Aoife.” “You shall not.” she brought her hands to the fire, grazing the flames with the tips of her fingers. “Did you love him, Aoife?” Finan asked, before realizing that he didn’t want to know the answer and the more she thought about it, the more he wanted to pretend like he had not asked anything. She noticed his discomfort and put a hand on his face; her skin was hot and welcoming, and he relaxed under her touch. “Don’t take my silence as uncertainty, Finan. It’s hard for me to interpret my feelings at times, but I’m sure about this. He was handsome and I desired him, but I know now that love is something deeper, it is longing a body as much as a soul and a heart and a mind. I craved his body and the freedom he promised me, but when I closed my eyes and pictured a family and a happy life, he wasn’t part of it.” she shrugged, unsure “Sometimes I wonder where I would be now if he hadn’t left.” “Well, we’ll never know. And I’m glad about that.” Finan smirked smugly, then the sound of footsteps made him turn around. Two companions were approaching to replace them on guard duty. Finan patted Aoife on her back “Come on. Time to sleep.” “Thank God, I’m freezing.” she stretched her limbs and got closer to her friend, to enjoy the warmth of his body until they reached the tents. She hit his hip with hers “Thank you for listening.” He wrapped her shoulders with his strong arm “I have to say, I preferred you when you were quiet, you blabber wee thing.”

“Oy!”

[worldsentwined]

Two for the WIP game! "Ailurophilia" because I'm guessing it's from one of those "obscure words" prompts lists, and I wanna know what it means! And I don't even go to this fandom, but "hair fluff" intrigued me, so "Reynir/Onni Hair Fluff" please?

Reynir/Onni Hair Fluff: I’ll do this one first, because it’s shorter - the fic itself is only a few sentences, which tells me it was a scene I had in my head and jotted down part of before I could forget it...and then I either lost interest or actually did forget about it. Anyway, I think it was supposed to end with Onni brushing and braiding Reynir’s hair (which is veeeery long). Here’s the entirety of that document:

It’s completely unfair, the way the firelight reflects off of Reynir’s hair. Even half-dry and tangled from the sauna, it catches the light and glows like banked coals against the gloom. It catches Onni’s eye, too, no matter how he tries to shift his focus elsewhere. His fingers never falter on the kantele strings, but the song is too familiar to provide the right distraction. Onni looks, and looks away, and looks again.

Ailurophilia: Surprisingly enough, “Ailurophilia” is just a word I sort of...figured probably existed? “Ailurophobia” means “fear of cats”, so I figured “Ailurophilia” would mean a love of cats. I was trying to write this for an anthology (it called for F/F romances that involved magical pets in some way) but never ended up finishing because the pandemic has tanked my attention span. The story is about a pair of old ladies (I reused Agnes and Rosie from a story I wrote called Rebooting the Wizard (Tumblr) (AO3)) who are married and find a kitten in their woodpile. One of them loves cats. The other one...reluctantly tolerates them. Eventually the kitten starts exhibiting all kinds of weird magical abilities when the cat-loving Agnes isn’t home, so Rosie has to work things out on her own.

Anyway, here’s an excerpt:

There was a creature haunting the woodpile.

Rosie almost missed it at first; it blended so well with the bark that she didn’t spot it until she reached for a log and saw a pair of eyes staring at her. Rosie stared back. The creature hissed. 

Rosie shouted and threw a log at it.

“Sweetheart?” The screen door slammed. “Rosie, what’s going on?”

“You and the girls haven’t been summoning again, have you Aggie?” Rosie asked, backing toward the porch. “I think there’s a demon under the tarp.” She held out a hand, not taking her eyes off the woodpile. “Can you get my—” Before she could finish, the handle of an umbrella pressed into her palm. “Oh, thanks.”

Agnes patted her on the shoulder. A crackle of energy accompanied the contact, all the way down Rosie’s arm to outline the umbrella in purple light. When the light faded, Rosie was holding a sword. “Of course. Now, what did you say about a demon? No one has been messing with those since the incident with Ethel’s grandson. What did it look like?”

“Yellow eyes,” Rosie said, moving back toward the woodpile with her sword extended. “Some kind of invisibility powers, maybe, I didn’t see it until it hissed at me.” She watched the shadows around the tarp. She’d seen how fast it could move--she didn’t want it slipping past her and attacking Agnes. 

“Hmm.” Agnes trailed behind. “Are you sure it was a demon? Because it doesn’t sound--oh!”

There. Movement, a scrabble of claws on the wood. Rosie lunged.

“STOP!” 

Everything froze. Rosie wanted to keep moving, but she couldn’t. The sword stopped mid-swing, poised to strike the woodpile creature. Its eyes met Rosie’s, round and gold with enormous pupils. 

Agnes started to laugh.

Rosie felt the spell loosen; the creature scuttled back under the tarp. She turned to glare at her wife. “What was that for?”

Still laughing, Agnes approached the woodpile. She pushed the sword aside and reached under the tarp. After a moment she pulled out a small, squirming, grey-brown blur. “Sweetie,” Agnes said, “I don’t mean to laugh at you, but you have to admit it’s a little funny. A witch’s wife, scared of a tiny kitten!”

[wookieejamcrew]

i caved and read the first eight chapters of light of the jedi (i thought i’d wait for the full release, but i had free time and was very curious)

points of interest (and mild spoilers) below

first things first, slicer antics: 

[...] sometimes slicers pulled pranks or showed off by breaking into emergency alert computer systems.

good affirmations for the troll-y wiles of my oc, Surret

bits of galaxy-building: 

Chancellor Soh has pledged to bring the Outer Rim worlds into the embrace of the Republic through ambitious outreach programs such as the Starlight Beacon. But until it is brought online, order and justice are maintained on the galactic frontier by Jedi Knights [...]

effectively a lighthouse on the deep, dark shores that is the outer rim! aesthetic! and maybe a dismal failure, but hopefully we get to that in a satisfying fashion. and ~fashion~

“And stop trying to slice into the archive to see the age-restricted titles.”

lol. 

[...] about 80 percent filled with settlers heading to the Outer Rim from the overpopulated Core and Colony worlds, seeking new lives, new opportunities, new skies.

love every smidgen of lore we get implying the cost of living on coruscant and the core must be BONKERS.

She was Twi’lek and he was Mirialan, but what difference did that make? We are all the Republic. Chancellor Soh’s big slogan—but people actually believed it.

hrmmm. very int-a-resting. i’m sure for as large as the republic is and for as long as it’s existed there has been an ebbing and flowing of the standard...taboo. culture to culture (and there must a many in a gffa) the definition of standard would hardly apply on world, but that must be the reason for this snippet’s inclusion: setting the stage for Chancellor’s Soh’s unification of the galaxy. what kind of predecessor did she inherit the republic from that facilitated the success for this kind of campaign? veeeery int-a-resting.

Probably one of the Jedi romances she was always obsessed with. Merven didn’t get it. He read a few—they were all set at outposts on far Republic frontiers, full of unrequited love and longing glances...the only action was the lightsaber battles that were clearly a substitute for what the characters really wanted to do.

sjahkjsfhkal. OKAY. not like we didn’t already know this shlock (? or could this be space bronte? space austen?) existed in-universe (see: star wars adventures #12), but I WILL REACT AS VISCERALLY EVERYTIME BECAUSE OF THE IMPLICATIONS. a) what the galaxy thinks of jedi based on the most accessible media “”””about””””” them b) what the jedi think of this? they probably don’t. but picture the blush on a padawan’s face from indulging in this hooplah c) bolded. *holds a lightsaber at crotch-level, deeply meeting my foe’s eyes, a sweaty, perhaps exhilarating struggle for dominion over your repression* aka it’s a rod, and it’s a metaphor: 9/10 romance authors agree. 

jedi are cool and i love them, cntd.:

The Jedi reached to her shoulder, where a long white cape was secured by a golden buckle made in the shape of her Order’s symbol—a living sunrise. This was ceremonial clothing, appropriate for the joint Jedi-Republic conclave [...] Starlight Beacon. [...] considering the task at hand the ornamental garments were a distraction. Avar tapped the buckle and the cape released.

Her [...] hair, seemingly on its own, moved back and away from her face. It folded itself into a complex knot, a mandala, the creation of which was itself an aid to focus

He closed his eyes and opened his spirit, and there it is was, the small light within him that never stopped burning. Always at least a candle flame, and sometimes, if he concentrated, it could surge up into a blaze. A few times he’d felt as bright as the sun, so much light pouring through him he was afraid he might go blind. [...] like coals in a fire, but enormous reservoirs of strength [...] This was his master, Loden.

[...] impressions, a map of emotional zones, not so different from the patchwork of cropland [...]

Weapons on a Vector could only be operated with a lightsaber key [...] every time they were used, it was a well-considered action.

❤️❤️❤️

oh yes and more fantasy aesthetics. the description of the Longbeam alluding to a mobile castle in the moat that is space. gimme solemn grandeur that will in due time be lost to it:

The ship’s surface rippled along its frame like waves on a silver sea, tapering to a point, with towers and crenellations along its length, like a fortress laid on its side, all wings and spires and spirals.

[bestworstcase]

what are some of your eldritch horror inspirations?

oh hm lets see

in no particular order: 

my first introduction to the genre was actually a kim possible fanfic series? i remember reading it as a teen and being like woah

the discworld series to an extent? pratchett’s riffs on the genre are excellent, in particular those from later novels in the series eg the summoning dark. (thud! was actually my first discworld novel for some baffling reason and i spent the whole book like “i have no idea what’s going on but i love this” skjdffklshsdk). this has also definitely had an impact on my lean into the more humanist or optimistic end of the scale

gideon the ninth is not eldritch horror per se but hot damn if it doesn’t have some glorious imagery. 

annihilation (the book much moreso than the film, though the film has some nice visuals too). i keep meaning to read the other books in the trilogy but haven’t got around to it yet. the crawler hoo boy 👀👀👀

a pretty large assortment of books and short stories and plays actually. probably too many to list really; not all of them are eldritch horror themselves but anything with the right atmosphere or aesthetic or lore tends to work its way into my brain as an inspiration for my own particular blend of eldritch horror and dark fantasy; as a random selection off the top of my head, poe’s entire oeuvre, the road, the bacchae, euripedes in general actually, pretty much anything that was inspired by the year without a summer lmao, the dragonoak trilogy and sam farren’s work in general... magical realism anything, marisol comes to mind in particular just for its extra closeness to theatre of the absurd... 

this one is a bit silly and honestly mostly just because it’s the Queen Hyperfixation and i will find a way to connect it to every single one of my other interests somehow, but alice’s adventures in wonderland, through the looking glass, and the hunting of the snark have all had a pretty marked influence on my development as a writer and have absolutely contributed to how i approach eldritch horror tropes in my own writing; and also nonsense literature is basically absurdist eldritch horror for children. 

(especially the hunting of the snark, tbh. like go read it now if you haven’t before; it’s a treat and it’s gay and boojums are 100% just your classic eldritch abomination presented through a light-heartedly witty, child-friendly lens.)

relatedly: i love the american mcgee alice games. they riff on some aiw-related tropes that irritate me but idc that much because the atmosphere and aesthetic is just. so good and the gameplay is fun

relatedly again: a blade so black and the subsequent books in the trilogy (one of which isn’t due out until next year i’m suffering) do some really great stuff with nightmares as creatures that are empowered by humanity’s fears and, esp in the second book, the weird mystery of wonderland itself. and is just a neat urban fantasy take on alice in wonderland in general.

pathygen’s work and especially strings has been a big source of inspiration for me in the last, like, eight or nine months since we met. read it.

adhd distractibility has me stalling out in the middle of season 3 of the magnus archives but. yknow. it’s my jam 👌

like, theatre of the absurd and theatre of cruelty? in particular i recall a production of waiting for godot which i saw in college that leaned very hard into a horror-esque reading of the play and that was kind of a game-changer for my own creative outlook; in general these forms of theatre and the experiences they seek to evoke and the narratives they center share a lot of emotional overlap with the experience of good eldritch horror and, like aiw, have had a significant influence on my writing generally.

darkest dungeon is really fun and has a great aesthetic and strikes exactly the right balance between bleak and hopeful. the crimson court dlc especially was a total game-changer for how i think about vampires because holy shit

it’s not eldritch horror per se but subnautica is like. its ability to provoke dread is second only to the trial of blindness in hellblade (which is also def an inspiration, though again not eldritch horror per se. the enemy designs are really good tho) and the creature designs and lore are super cool and it does an excellent job of of getting across that... feeling of being insignificant in a vast uncaring cosmos (or in this case: ocean planet infected with virulent water-borne bacteria) and that’s enough to make it like, eldritch horror-adjacent in my mind.

tyranny is? another odd one in that it isn’t eldritch horror by any stretch of the imagination but idk. there’s something about the lore surrounding the archons and the spires + oldwalls that speaks to me and i love that so much of it is simply left unexplained. not in a way that feels half-assed or like the lore wasn’t well thought out, but rather in a way that truly gets across the feeling of an ancient civilization whose culture and magic/technology have decayed and been suppressed to the point of being completely lost by the time of the game; that’s a hard balance to strike and it’s totally my jam. 

my gf got me into pathologic and i am veeeery slowly playing my way through the original game rn and holy shit. holy shit. the atmosphere and the slowly unfolding lore and increasingly bizarre plague itself and the despair and the grind it’s all so good.

i still need to actually play bloodborne, it’s been on my list forever, but every image and video i’ve ever seen is. hoo boy. hoooooo boy. 

and honestly??? growing up as a very non-spiritual person in an evangelical family i think definitely predisposed me toward this genre because, idk. god as presented by evangelical christians is an eldritch abomination and i don’t have the spiritual inclination to convince me otherwise. so that’s something i draw from a bit as well lol

also as a final note i think it’s v important when talking about eldritch/cosmic/lovecraftian horror and inspirations thereof to say that hp lovecraft (and many of the contemporaries of his who participated in the expanded/shared universe we now call the cthulhu mythos) was virulently racist and xenophobic and this absolutely had an impact on his creative work. they codified this genre and that means that racism and xenophobia is kind of baked in to a lot of the basic tropes and they must be very rigorously, very critically evaluated when we use them to create new fiction. 

[firemagicked]

Maw: Desperation

There was no sunlight in the Maw.

And death knights didn't eat.

There had been before him and since, other mortals into the Maw. The Ebon Blade even said some had gotten out again, but Lyren was less focused on that.

The light in the Maw was weak and pale, more shadows than light. And never changing. Nothing changed. It could have been days or weeks or mere hours. It could have been months. Time keeping devices and magics flowed too strange to be depended on.

Magic was in technical abundance… but it was that which came from souls. A literal river of them and Lyren hated it, hated every bit of arcane magic he needed to use that needed more than he could give it. So he rationed his own magic, and ate conjured mana buns and ignored the way his internal fire didn't like this place of Death at all, the his dependence had to be on arcane over fire because at least there was an outside source to sift through and transform into arcane if necessary.

At least he had brought his sword instead of using a staff as was more common focus when he had a companion that preferred throwing their face at the enemy. It was the one upside.

He was surviving. Not thriving. But he was surviving - and it was finding Darnath, the first time, that nearly outdid him.

The mark barely gave him any notice as two bodies dropped next to him, a furious and familiar death knight, and one of the winged beings who was paying for attempting to abduct him. The mark lit up with recognition - if it was weaker than it should have been, if other signals even now still felt stronger, it didn't compare to Lyren physically seeing him.

"Darnath!" For expediency's sake, now he used fire on the winged being.

He was hoping for a greeting. Even just his name. Any sort of words. Instead what turned toward him - was Darnath's body and none of his intelligence. Darnath's body gave a snarl, raised his sword in Lyren's direction - then paused.

"Darnath?" he asked it again, so, so hopeful. Not-Darnath strode toward him - but though there was a glimmer of recognition now as hands that had both once held his children and tried to strangle him came closer. Lyren tensed up, and swallowed. "Now would be a great time to say something if there's any part of you in there."

Instead, one hand left the sword to tug at Lyren's robes - still with enough magic in them they were recognizable, if dirtier. Darnath's head gave a nod, as if satisfied - and then just began walking off.

Lyren - stared. It was… There was no sign of improvement. Nothing. So much for the former Lich King's idea this whole adventure would "fix things". They had been better off on Azeroth. He should have - should have just dragged them back to Atlas. Fuck, what had he been thinking? Jumping into a death portal. Now they were far away from home *and* Darnath was still… gone inside.

Maybe if he brought him home, Alinith could have fixed it. Or Javinth, or maybe Mira would have had an idea. Any of them, a better resource that was more - … or at least equally trusted as the guy that had lost his very important Hat of Death that led to their world breaking.

(Mira was a little crazy but her heart was in the right place.)

(Javinth… was pretty good these days and knew some sort of soul magic he absolutely refused to divulge.)

(Alinith couldn't be trusted as far as Star could throw him but he seemed invested in Darnath's continued existence at least and had fixed Lyren's fuck ups before.)

Anything would be better than now and for a brief, brief moment Lyren closed his eyes and wanted to sob. The burn of moisture was there, the pit of despair, the yawning loneliness and guilt. For just a bare moment it seemed overwhelming.

He gave himself that one moment, before tucking all of that into a ball to deal with never and straightened up, and opened his eyes. "Wait up!" he called to what was left of the man he loved, and ran after him.

(Reaching for his shoulder was how he found out that not-Darnath might not be trying to kill him anymore, but he now bit. Unrelated, he now would have a scar on his right ear perfectly matching Darnath's teeth.)

-----

The first time he lost Darnath's body in the Maw, one of the Ebon knights grimly declared, "It may be for the best."

The subsequent fight was how Lyren ended with his magic chained and unconscious. When he was let go, he immediately left the camp, struck out into the Maw, and went to find Darnath.

Eventually, Darnath simply… wandered right back up to him. As if he hadn't been gone in the first place or in an entirely different area. He also tried to immediately bite him. Lyren was beginning to think Darnath was seeing it as a greeting now. Lyren did not approve, but he was so relieved to see him even the newly bleeding wound wasn't deterrent of his happiness.

His magic was stretched thin, his food had basically no true nutritional value, the lack of sunlight was possibly making him actually sick, they were cut off from all contact - but he had Darnath. It had to be enough.

The third and last time he lost Darnath's body in the maw was both the worst and the best. It was yet another rescue attempt of Azerothian denizens. Sometimes it was other knights, sometimes it was the original leaders stolen… sometimes it was new people that had come into the Maw since. Lyren had, honestly, stopped keeping track. They almost all failed except maybe to get one or two people through a supposed gateway to somewhere not the Maw.

They were over the river of souls when Helya herself popped up… and Darnath threw himself straight at her while the rest of them went flying off… on the opposite side of the bridge.

Lyren had felt the river of souls. It was impossible not to when he had first opened his senses up. But being in it - being in it the river was no longer like a singular piece of the Maw. Now he could feel each individual coursing through it. Some endlessly. Neverending in their rush onward - except - there was something -

"LYREN!"

It was his name. It was a voice he hadn't truly heard all this time in the Maw.

It was a soul. It was Darnath. Lyren was still spinning from that fact alone when Darnath came up with a plan and put it into action. `"Maybe Just...stay put. And. This, is going to be a wee bit uncomfortable."`

One of the souls was there, pushing at his mind until it penetrated his defenses and shoved inward and he knew it was Darnath but - `"Wha - Hey!"` - that was still his mind! And his body and most recently he was all too used to a close Darnath meaning he was about to get hurt. It was natural to resist and evidently Darnath knew that.

But they both knew it had to be done. Darnath's soul clung on but his voice was in Lyren's mind, soothing at the necessary hurts. `"I know I know. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, but if I don't get in fast and lock the path others might realize and try to follow."`

The mark on Lyren's back warmed, welcoming the new presence… and Lyren felt such relief he wanted to be able to just focus on nothing but the warm feeling of Darnath with him. Except he couldn't. They didn't even have time for the full explanation Darnath wanted as Lyren struggled out of the river of souls with one burrowed determinedly into him. Not a long term solution to be sure - but Lyren wasn't going to let it be a long term anything.

Somewhere in here, there was a body to find.

Unfortunately… they refound the Ebon knight before Darnath's body. A couple of them stared at him like they could see and Lyren ignored it, traveled with them on autopilot with a new murmur of Darnath banter in the back of his mind. It was wonderful.

It was distracting.

They were at the portal out before he knew it, surrounded on all sides… and there, out of nowhere, was Darnath's body crashing through the enemy.

`"...Am I really talking with just grunts and growls? No wonder he's not getting laid."` Darnath seemed less than impressed with himself. Which was a confusing sentence Lyren was never again going to think.

The thing was, the waystone portal was glowing. It was active. They had to go now if they wanted to go.

The problem was, last time he went through a portal he had lost Darnath. And right now his body housed Darnath's soul. If they went through again, there was no guarantee that this time, he would be able to find him again and soul and boy might remain separated. It was insane, and impulsive, but he knew it had to be done. `"Hold on a minute you two."`

He took a breath and stared at the body, empty of the usual soul occupying it. Occupying. A lot more made sense, but not all, and none of it was to contemplate now. He could only hope the feral death knight who absolutely was not really Darnath at all right now would give him a little leeway. `"Okay, we need to go through the glowy thing veeeery soon, but can you do something for me real quick first?"`

Disturbingly, feral death knight had learned to parrot some things… including a key phrase of the Ebon knights as he glared, full of wrath and a hunger wholly belonging to the undead. `"Get on with it."`

Notably, he did not give Lyren his hands. The phoenix stared before rolling his eyes and mentally going, 'fuck it'. It had to be done. Likely only from surprise, he was able to yank one the death knight's hands toward his back. He began struggling - and biting at him - almost immediately but Lyren still got one palm against his back where the demonic mark was anchoring Darnath's soul.

`""Lyren wa-!"` Oops. Evidently Darnath's soul wasn't quite ready for it to be suddenly connected to its more usual occupant as immediately after the soul left him… the big death knight slumped unconscious over him. He kept his feet, but only barely.

There was still fighting going on - fighting they were losing. Lyren couldn't risk it. He dragged Darnath's unconscious form over to the waystone step by step, aware with each breath how less and less blades rang out. He didn't look back. He could focus on hating himself later for it.

They made it through the portal.

But not intact. @darnath

[coffeefairy]

Writer’s Month August 2020 - Day 8

Day eight of the challenge, still late, because I am a still a helpless procrastinator

Day 8, Prompt: Eight

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Ship: Sheith

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Lance throws a party to celebrate that he and his roommates are going to be friends - for infinity. At the party, Keith meets destiny. Or as he introduces himself, Shiro.

Veeeery loosely based on the New Girl dynamic but not close enough to call it an AU.

Excerpt:

“Ta-da!” Lance stepped back and revealed the decorated room behind him.

Keith tilted his head. “The theme of the party is...eight? Eight what? Why?”

Pidge peered around Keith to see. “Did you realize it’s your age in emotional maturity and decided celebrating reaching it?”

“It’s not eight, it’s infinity. We’re celebrating we’re going to be friends for infinity!”

Keith grimaced and shrugged, Pidge made a gagging noise and Hunk shushed them both.

Tags: first meeting

Infinity

“Ta-da!” Lance stepped back and revealed the decorated room behind him.

Keith tilted his head. “The theme of the party is...eight? Eight what? Why?”

Pidge peered around Keith to see. “Did you realize it’s your age in emotional maturity and decided celebrating reaching it?”

“It’s not eight, it’s infinity. We’re celebrating we’re going to be friends for infinity!”

Keith grimaced and shrugged, Pidge made a gagging noise and Hunk shushed them both. 

“Guys, Lance has worked really hard on this party.”

“God knows why,” Keith muttered under his breath and Hunk elbowed him. “Yeah, yeah. There’s beer, right?”

Walking into the apartment he had to fight his way through streamers, balloons and even past a pinata. Behind him he heard Pidge point out that at least half the balloons said “Happy Eighth Birthday!” on the backs. Lance shot back all the balloons were tilted ninety degrees, which clearly made the eight into an infinity sign.

Going about tapping the keg, he realized with a shock that they had all lived in this loft for eight years. Moving in right out of high school, the building deep enough into a sketchy enough area that he could afford it, he and Lance had spent the first days emptying it of the previous tenants’ rubbish. Once it looked presentable - essentially bare, but not the drug den it had clearly once been - they’d posted an ad for the two spare rooms. Pidge had arrived, narrowing her eyes at the print out in her hand. She’d believed the apartment was shared by women. Not that it mattered to her, she stated, as long as everyone left her alone to study. Hunk had seen the open plan kitchen and promised muffins on the spot. Lance had shaken his hand, welcoming him to the apartment.

And that was...eight years ago. The apartment had changed over the years. It had furniture, for one. Adding to it through donations, or a purchase when someone had some cash to spare. Keith had bought the coffee table because he refused to use a tray balanced on his knees to eat in front of the tv. Lance had replaced the couch at some point because the first one - inherited from Pidge’s grandmother - was ugly as sin, covered in large roses and wearing some kind of furniture skirt with bows on it. Hunk had picked up appliances on Gumtree, installing them one by one himself. Keith had used the printer at work to blow up some large scale pieces he’d done. The joking picture he’d drawn for Lance for his 21st birthday of them all as superheroes held pride of place. 

He hadn’t really thought about it but they’d all changed, just as the apartment had. Lance, his one and only friend from high school, still loud and animated, but instead of the messy haired loudmouth he’d been, he was now a tidy, suit-wearing marketer. Hunk, who’d finished his degree in mechanical engineering, had worked in the field for three years before pursuing his real passion - cooking. His own restaurant had just celebrated its second birthday. Pidge, still the same height as when she moved in, to her chagrin, had finished her PhD in astrophysics and found her place at the Observatory where her father and brother worked. She’d taped “Dr.” in front of the K. Holt on the door to mark the occasion. 

Though if he was comparing, the one who’d changed the most was possibly himself. 

Leaving high school he’d never imagined he’d want to go to university, or that he’d ever know what he’d want to do. It was Lance, who had drunkenly filled in his application to art school, attaching blurry cellphone pictures of what Keith deemed his “doodles”. Lance who had pushed him out the door to the interview to “just see what it’s about”. Now, Keith had just heard from his publisher his comic book, Voltron: Legendary Defender, had been renewed for another run, with more zeroes attached than Keith had ever dreamed he would make from his art. In truth, he didn’t think any of them needed to live together for financial reasons anymore. But there had been a time when his part-time job and scholarship money didn’t stretch to everything a month would need, when the other three had quietly “made too much food” or “felt like overpaying on gas this month - I did have a few long showers”. Just as he had when Lance had been between jobs, when Pidge didn’t have enough time to work in the last two months before her PhD was due, when Hunk had struggled to make ends meet at his new restaurant. 

Sipping his beer, he woke from the reverie to realize people were arriving. He recognized a few of Lance’s work friends, some of the people from the Observatory, Pidge’s brother, staff from Hunk’s restaurant. 

Lance came beelining over.

“Keith, Allura is here! She came!”

As his friend was in love at least twice a month, Keith just hummed.

“Allura, Keith! The woman who owns the model agency we give a lot of business to.”

Memories of this particular woman being a recurrent topic of Lance’s he obediently looked to where Lance was indicating. A tall, slim blonde was talking to Matt - who looked like he’d never finished Standing Like A Human Being 101. Awkwardly hunched, he laughed entirely too loudly at something the woman had said. 

“I need you to talk me up to her if you speak - nothing big, you know, how I’m a model employee, earn three figures, drive a Range Rover, and that from what you can tell through my bedroom door I can make a woman have an out-of-body-experience.”

“If she’s with you in bed, she’ll wish she was out of her body,” Keith joked automatically.

“Keith, focus!” Lance tugged at his shirt to stare into his eyes. “She’s the most beautiful woman on the planet, she’s smart and she’s funny. She came to this party and I have a chance to make this work.”

Sighing lightly, Keith put his beer down. “Lance.” He put his hand to his shoulder. “Remember that none of what you listed me to say matters. You’re a good guy, you take care of your friends, even when they don’t want you to. You’ve been my mom, my partner and my friend for years. You don’t need to brag about whatever car you drive if you could just believe that the people who love you, love you for you and not for being cool, or suave or whatever epitaph it is you’re always pursuing. Just go talk to her and be yourself.”

Lance blinked rapidly. 

“Don’t cry, man. If you do, I take it all back.” 

Lance kept blinking, sniffles starting.

“Stop it. I’ll tell Allura you’ve got syphilis if you cry.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” The tears sank away and Keith breathed a sigh of relief. “Besides, first I need you to distract Allura’s date.”

“She brought a date?”

“She brought some guy who looks like he models. They’re probably just colleagues.” Lance’s voice was high pitched with his own disbelief. “In any case, it shouldn’t be a hardship for you to talk to him, just don’t drool on him too visibly. I don’t want Allura to think my friends have no class. Even if they don’t.”

“Hey, watch it. Remember I can tell anyone, at any point, you sing Backstreet Boys in the shower.”

“They have an underrated emotional intelligence in their songs!”

Keith snorted, “As if “I Want It That Way” isn’t about a breakfast egg order.”

Lance drew a deep breath, about to go on a tirade. Then he deflated, narrowed his eyes. “Later. We’re doing that later. Now I am going to talk to Allura, because the guy is coming over here for a drink. Distract him for as long as you can!” Lance hissed the last bit under his breath and slipped away. Keith shook his head. Parts of Lance were certainly not older than the eight years Pidge had claimed.

“Hey, could I get a beer?”

Keith turned around and choked on his beer. There could be no doubt that this was the date Lance had described because he looked like an underwear model - however sadly clothed at the minute. Parts of him punched through Keith’s nervous system like lightning flashes, splayed across his retinas in shining technicolor. Wide shoulders, biceps coiling out of a t-shirt as a gift to mankind, narrow hips showing off jeans to their best advantage, a jaw that could cut glass at an angle that made Keith’s mouth go dry with its wish to latch on like a barnacle to a ship and never let go. Dark hair, soft and shining, stubble that made Keith’s stomach clench, and eyes that edged somewhere between silver and mercury.

“Ah…”

He had to take another moment for the speech to get turned into coherency in his head through the interference of his hormones screaming “Gimme, gimme, gimme”.

“Of course. Beer. Sure.”

Standing behind the kitchen island laden with drinks, next to the keg, he realized he looked like he was there to serve drinks. Setting his own cup down he pulled a fresh one from the stack and poured. Bracing himself to turn his eyes back on the god standing in his kitchen, he turned back. 

“Here you go.”

“Thanks. I’m Shiro.”

“Keith.” 

Keith saw that one of the sideways eight balloons hovered behind Shiro like a halo. Suddenly it did look like the sign of infinity.

[capseetra]

uhhh heres a bit of a long post just incase i get murdered at some point and we need some sorta clues as to what happened -_- k so when i got off the bus today i saw some little stickers on the speed limit sign as you enter our neighbourhood. i had to get up rly close to read them and i didnt understand the 2nd sticker but the first one translated from french as "minorties on our land? never" and i was like..... okay......... i mean our neighbourhood is literally entirely white unless my neighbours of colour have been staying indoors for the past 10+ years ive lived here. like if those were deliberately placed there then theres no one else they could be directed at but me so..... hm. they looked ""proffesional"" or w/e, they werent just written by hand they were printed out and had a logo on them (ill try n get pics later when my mom comes home but im absolutely not going back outside alone lol) oh and more importantly: when i got off the bus there was a man in a red car with a taxi sign thing on top so i assumed he was... yknow a taxi (but taxis dont just wait for ppl on the side of a highway so???)..... he was in the shoulder of the highway right behind my bus as i got off, and he only (VERY slowly and pretty close to where i was walking, might i add) got back onto the highway and drove off when my bus left. the speed limit sign with the stickers was just across the highway (in the direction of my house), and when i got up close to read what they had on them, i heard a car honk behind me and it was that same red car!! he must have turned around and came back on the highway p quickly considering i had only seen him drive off a minute or 2 ago. there was no one else + no other cars around, and his window was rolled down with him staring @ me. i kinda gave him a "whatre you looking at??" gesture and he drove off. so yeah. i mean im glad its the weekend but im definitely nervous about going to school now lol. hopefully im overthinking this but that dude literally like.... turned around on a highway after waiting for my bus to get here then watched me, the only Visible Minority within 100 miles, inspect a sticker calling for minorities to leave our land is cause for :/ also when i was waiting for my bus today i was alone at the stop but there was another girl waiting at the stop across from mine (where i get off on my way home). i was distracted by my phone while waiting but once the bus came into view, a man walked by me in the direction of it. i dont know how long he was there for (if he got there after me and waited or if he was just passing by, but again.... the shoulder of a semi-busy highway isnt usually a hotspot for taxis + pedestrians/?? i see veeeery few ppl walking along unless theyre going for the bus stop). i thought maybe he was gonna catch the bus too but he totally walked by it and walked in the direction it came.... idk gamers but if that was the same guy driving the red car im very ://///// rn