#I have spent hours trying to pick between the version with background and without background btw

[nekrosmos]

Sailor Nikolai, loyal first mate of Captain John Price ⚓​🐻​

Bonus alternate versions under keep reading (no bg and lineart only)

[kivino]

Platonic!Task Force 141 x Eastern European!Reader

Word Counter – ~1.9k

Summary – a compilation of headcanons about how reader’s Eastern European background would affect interactions with Task Force 141 during an undercover mission together.

Tags/Warnings – Gn!reader, Eastern European!reader (obviously), Platonic!TF141, fluff, mostly.

A/n – RUSSIANS DNI (this is a personal boundary, so I ask you to respect it, if you don’t like it just scroll past this post). Very self-indulgent. Just showing more love to my fellow Eastern European readers. Since it is mostly based on my own experience growing up as a Ukrainian, I’m sorry if certain things don’t resonate with you! This whole thing was made for fun and fun only.

So, let’s assume our beloved Task Force needs to go undercover to get some information on Makarov and his merry band of goons. Obviously, they can’t do it without at least one team member, who is familiar with the way of living in Eastern Europe. So, naturally, Laswell introduces you to them – born and raised there, ready to help them and stop your sworn enemy from escalating an already pretty shitty situation.

“So, allow me to introduce your new team member for the duration of this mission” Laswell nods to the door when you walk in, saying your name and callsign, already catching some looks full of curiosity from Task Force 141.

First thing they noticed about you? Resting bitch face for days. Who needs a mask when you have a death stare that will give the heebie-jeebies to most if not all of your teammates? However, they feel even more taken aback when you suddenly greet them with a warm, welcoming smile and a firm handshake, not a trace of that sour expression on your face.

One would think that you’d spend hours preparing four of them for the mission by teaching them language, helping to memorize names and faces of contacts, Makarov’s trusted allies, and potential targets. Naturally, you did your job, but those precious hours were also spent with you standing next to a whiteboard, ranting about the politics and societal issues of your country, explaining certain national jokes, and teaching them swear words or poetry you studied at school. But hey, they’re not complaining (maybe a little).  

They were skeptical about this whole deal at first. However, there was a shared understanding between the four of them that they needed to do whatever it took to stop the spreading of Makarov’s influence and diminish his resources in other countries. With time, however, they’ve found things that made their life in a completely new environment a bit more enjoyable and interesting.

Soap would pick up on your native language the fastest out of the Task Force. Under all these jokes and goofiness Johnny’s a smart guy, inquisitive as hell too, which makes a pretty good mix. He’d try to write down how you pronounce things in his sketchbook, dedicating pages upon pages to making a small vocabulary of what you say, searching up the translations of words any chance he gets. Convinces himself that it just helps him to get more into his new way of life, and not at all because he likes seeing you all excited when he slips a word in your language somewhere in the conversation.

“So how do you say it?” he points to the sentence, messily scribbled on the page with the ballpoint pen he slipped from Gaz. There is a slight frown between your brows – the word looks unfamiliar, more like gibberish than something in your language. You can practically feel the gears in your head screech and come to a halt as you drill Soap’s handwriting with your eyes.

“Oh, wait. You made a mistake here. No wonder I have no idea what this is.” You quickly take the pen and scratch the right version of the word on the paper, while Johnny chuckles at your brutal honesty. He doesn’t say anything though. Some time passes and you’re already correcting other words he wrote down, explaining the right way to say them. And you can feel a pleasant warmth spread in your chest when you can see Soap’s utmost attention directed at you.

Johnny can’t help but feel that moments like these were somewhat of a way to bond for you two. He’d jokingly offer to give you some Scottish classes each time you playfully flick him on the forehead for a word he pronounced wrong. He never expected you to take him up on the offer until the five of you got stuck in a countryside safehouse and essentially had nothing to do while waiting.

On the topic of Eastern European countryside, Price is not an old man by any measure, man’s not even forty yet, but it would grow so massively on him that it’s concerning. When you finally got a good, reliable contact that gave you some useful information you had to lay low for some time in a safe house not far from one of many Makarov’s places where the next weapon deal would be held. And while you waited several days for his people to show up there, obviously almost all of you were bored out of your minds. Not Price though. The man went exploring. Of course, taking you with him (he only wanted company on his small journey through the cozy countryside, don’t blame him).

Soon enough, during your walk you two come across the abundance of berry bushes and fruit trees everywhere, and while you pick something to munch on from them constantly, Price only scolds you. You smirk in response, giving him a handful of ripe mulberries, your lips and fingers now a dark red color from the juice.  

“It’s going to rot if nobody eats it. People who plant these trees would rather someone enjoy them instead of fruits just falling on the ground, getting squished, and going to waste.” And Price takes note of that with a small smile. Soon enough the two of you find a spring the whole village uses, a willow standing tall beside it, providing shade for you two to rest, chat a bit, and cool yourself off with fresh water. The fact that there are not many people around also doesn’t miss him. It’s quiet and peaceful, Price finally feels like he has room to breathe with his whole chest.

“You know, I could get used to a life like this.” Price finally mutters, enjoying your simple, comforting presence, walking along the river shore, and hearing the distant sounds of a train passing through the village. You look at him with understanding in your eyes, as you see the tension in his shoulders finally slipping away. Your captain relaxes, which is a pleasant change of pace from the frown on his face that you got used to.  

All five of you had to live in the same apartment in an old panel building closer to the edge of town. Not the best place to live, but a good opportunity to blend in with the locals and find leads on Makarov’s criminal “friends”. More than once you’ve found yourself sitting together with Ghost on the balcony that creaked with each blow of the wind, in complete silence while he was smoking some cheap cigarettes that smelled more like burnt paper instead of tobacco.

“Can I join you?” Your voice is a quiet rasp, as you lean against the doorway, pushing the mosquito netting to the side. You couldn’t sleep. Not when the whole world will go down the drain if you fail your mission. Not when it’s been a month already and it felt like you were still right where you started.

“Knock yourself out” the man shrugs, patting the stool near him. You shuffle your bare feet on the newspapers that were laid out on the balcony floor, plopping down on the seat, your eyes immediately getting glued to the view, enjoying the breeze that seeped through the open window. You two sit in silence for so long, but it doesn’t feel awkward, quite on the contrary – weirdly calming and serene.

After that night these nightly smoke breaks became a sort of tradition for you two, a way to wind down after a long day. Ghost would nod towards the balcony, a silent invitation reserved only for you. Regardless of whether you’re a smoker or not, occasionally he would offer you a cigarette from his pack or a hit from the lit one. A gesture of camaraderie.

“Thought you’d be more talkative.” Ghost’s voice sounds gruff after the whole day working your asses off just to discover the lead that you had was absolute bullshit.

“And I thought you weren’t a type for small talk.” You grumble in return, just as annoyed about coming back to this dingy apartment with nothing.

“That I am” He lets out a low chuckle, flicking his cigarette into an ashtray in his hand, avoiding eye contact with you.  

Kyle found himself liking your cooking above everything else. The way he would eat anything thrown together in a hurry by you was quite flattering. So soon enough you offered to teach him how to make some of your favorite national dishes, and he couldn’t say no to your offer. So, you decided to start easy – picking out the fresh ingredients. And where do you go to do that? Not a grocery store, no way in hell. The market filled with tons of people is the place you need. A lot cheaper than your usual supermarket too.

The number of times you got discounts for fruits and vegetables on the market from older women just for Gaz’s pretty eyes was insane. He would just blink at you with confusion written all over his face anytime you glanced at him with that smile and refused to explain why you spent a lot less money than expected on the fresh vegetables. At some point, Gaz even questioned his ability to count before you told him just not to worry about it since you got a “very special bargain”. And, obviously, Kyle was the one carrying the plastic bags filled to the brim with fresh produce.  

“You know, your version of the dish is not half-bad,” You say, licking the spoon and giving Gaz a wide smile, which he immediately returns to you tenfold. Spending time like this with him was a pleasure. Each minute spent together made you loathe even thinking about the time when you’d have to part ways and you won’t be able to teach him your cultural cuisine like this anymore.

“Well, I have a great teacher to thank for that.” Gaz gives you a charming smile, so glad to finally have a distraction from the constant looming presence of Makarov in his thoughts. Right this moment he caught himself thinking that he was happy they had you here with them. It would be a lot harder if not for you supporting and guiding them through everything. He felt…thankful.

You’d bring the whole Task Force to different cafes that serve your country's most famous dishes, but Kyle would be the one to enjoy these outings the most, barely raising his eyes from the plate to participate in the conversation.

“Wow, are you in a hurry or something? The food won’t run away from you.” You chuckle, while Kyle ignores the odd saying coming from you and continues to eat with the huge appetite he had ever since this undercover mission started.

However, nothing lasts forever, so after finishing their business with you, getting all the information they needed, and “cleaning up the mess” Task Force 141 bids you farewell, returning to their usual duties. Saying goodbye is never easy, even if you knew each other just for several months you still got attached to them, just like they grew very fond of you (as much as some of them hated to admit that). But hey, they promised to visit you after they finish up with Makarov. They promised. And the four of them keep the promises they make.

taglist - @mockerycrow @stridersdiner

check out my masterlist for more fics or send me a request!

[hockeywhhores]

just friends?- m. tkachuk

Matthew Tkachuk x f!Reader

summary~ Matthew is your best friend, but you both want to be more. 

warnings~ friends to lovers, swearing, alcohol consumption, fight, implied sex 

genre~ friends to lovers, fluff with some angst 

word count~ 3.3K 

masterlist

Growing up next in the house next to the Tkacuk’s meant there were never any dull moments. You have been playing with Matthew, Brady, and Taryn since you could talk. Matthew was the one who taught you how to ice skate, Brady taught you how to understand American football, and you ended up teaching Taryn how to put on makeup.

Matthew was even there when your first date had stood you up. When he came you were so embarrassed about being stood up and wanted to leave, but he made you stay and ‘fixed’ your date. Really he just bought you some dinner, and then you guys went back to his house and watched a movie with his siblings. At night when you started overthinking about why your date had stood you up; he held you in his arms, and let you cry on his shoulder. Matthew made sure you knew it wasn’t because you were ugly, which you insisted that it was, by telling you how beautiful you looked. You wrote him off, because that’s what your best friend is supposed to say.

When Matthew was drafted, he insisted that you applied to colleges in Calgary. Just to ease his mind you applied to all different colleges around Calgary, and even got in. Matthew offered to share his apartment, but you decided to live in the dorms. You both knew that wasn’t really going to happen, and were right. You spent more time in his apartment than in your dorm. Your toothbrush was in his bathroom and your shampoo and conditioner were in his shower. You slept in the guest room, and whenever his family came to Canada you slept in his bed, with him. His parents would take the guest room.

You were just friends. You were reminded of that when girls would flirt with him in bars, and he would let them. You always pushed away every jealous thought. Matthew wasn’t yours, so that makes whoever is flirting with him not your problem. The team had no problem making little chirps at the two of you being in love, but at least they only did so when you were alone. Some random guy ended up on the stool next to you. He ordered a beer and started watching one of the TVs. “Come here often?” He asked you, as he looked back towards you.

“Do you ask every girl that?” you questioned him with a small chuckle.

“Only the pretty one’s,” He smirked at you, “My name’s Asher.” he said, extending his hand.

“y/n” you smiled at him and shook his hand. As corny as his introduction was, you couldn’t help but think he was cute. His blue eyes stood out, they weren’t like Matthew’s ,light blue eyes, they are a deep blue. His ashy brunette hair looked super soft, and fell slightly across his forehead. Asher looked tired, but interested in you.

“Well what do you do, Miss. y/n?” he asked you, his voice sounding deep.

“I’m a college student by day, and a mysterious girl that hangs out in bars by night.” You say so casually, wanting to mess with him a little bit. Purposely not telling him you were here with the few Flames’ players that were around.

“Well I think you're doing great at being the mysterious girl that hangs out in bars very well.” Asher's voice was smooth like honey. “I’m an editor for CalgarySun.” you could listen to him talk for hours.

“Wow, and I caught your eye?” you playfully asked him.

“How could you not have?” He asked you sounding serious. “Do you want another drink?” he noticed your drink was getting low.

“If you don’t mind. I would love another drink.” you smiled. You felt like an idiot with all the smiling you were doing. Asher ended up buying you two more drinks before you got a text that Matthew ordered himself an Uber and you could share with him if you wanted to. Deciding to save the money, and take a ride with him. You said goodbye to your new friend, Asher. Numbers were exchanged and with that you left.

When you got outside you found Matthew walking the girl to her Uber, but he didn’t get in with her. The girl’s Uber left with her in it, and Matthew turned around to find you watching him. He gestures for you to come stand by him, and you did.

“Why didn’t you go with her?” You were the first one to speak.

“She obviously only liked me, because she recognized me. Fucking groupie was what she was.” You heard the frustration in his voice. It struck you as odd, about how he never took girls back to his apartment. You always told him you would go back to your dorms for the night, but he refused. Those moments made you feel bad for being there all the time.

A red car pulled up to the curb, and Matthew seemed to recognize it. You heard the driver ask if he was Matthew, and when he got a ‘yes’, he unlocked the doors. Matthew opened the door for you, and you slightly crawled inside the backseat. Thankfully you were wearing jeans, so you didn’t flash anyone. The ride back was just like any other. Matthew and you would talk about little things, and when it got quiet you listened to the radio that was lightly playing in the background. It only got quiet in between new topics. But like a blink of an eye the ride was over, and you were in front of his apartment.

Matthew opened the door for you, and you both went your separate ways. You went to the bathroom to take off your makeup and he went to his bedroom to change his clothes. After you were both done you switched, and he went to the bathroom while you changed. Walking into the room you now occupy in his apartment, the first thing you noticed was the mess you had made while getting ready for a night out. You signed and started straightening up before you gave up, and just put on your pajamas, which was an old shirt Matthew gave to you and some sweatpants. You heard the TV turn on and knew Matthew wasn’t going to be going to bed anytimes soon. You decided to join him.

Matthew was watching some Avengers movie, and you just signed and laid on the couch. He let you put your legs on top of his; letting you lay down on the couch. You phone vibrated on the coffee table. The light makes it hard to ignore. It went off again, so you just got up to answer it. You smiled when you noticed that Asher had texted you. Matthew tried to pay you no mind, and continued to watch the movie he picked out, but he couldn’t stop thinking about who would be texting you at midnight on a Saturday.

Matthew knew he should make his feelings known, but there was so much going against how could you two ever work out? He got labeled a borderline dirty player, a fuckboy, and was told he didn’t know how to manage his anger, and he was okay with it. He didn’t let it bother him. But if he ever lost you, because of his stupid feelings, he would never forgive himself. You were too precious to lose, and he could never risk it, so he hid his feelings.

After the movie was over Matthew looked over and saw that you had fallen asleep with your phone next to you. He gently moved your legs, trying his hardest to not wake you up. When he successfully got up, without disturbing you, he picked you up and carried you bridal style. He quietly tucked you into your bed, and went back to the living room to grab your phone. All he was going to do was plug it in for you, but couldn't help himself when he saw that some guy named Asher had been the one texting you. Matthew felt jealous boil up inside him, but he just plugged your phone in and left. You weren’t his, and oh how he wanted that to change.

Both of you didn’t wake up until late into the afternoon, and by that time lunch was more socially acceptable than breakfast. Matthew ordered some chinese take out, to help with both your hangovers. They weren’t bad, but Chinese take could cure anything. You came out looking a slight mess, but Matthew thought you gorgeous anyway. Your hair was all knotted, your clothes were wrinkled, and you had no makeup on. If Matthew was being honest he would pick this version of you over any supermodel that DMed him.

“Good mornin’.”your raspy, just-woke-up voice rang out across the apartment. You smiled at him, and looked confused when he did answer you. All he could think of was, who was ‘Asher’ and why was he texting you last night?

“Morning. I ordered some take out.” Matthew said back to you when he came to his sinuses.

“You are my savior!” you giggled out. Before things could get too awkward there was a knock on the door.

“That’s probably it right now.” he stated as he walked to the door. It was in fact the food, and you went to grab some silverware, and plates to help out. You also made both of you water bottles. You heard Matthew say a quick ‘thank you’ before the door closed, and he held up the big paper bag of food out as a way of showing you. You giggled and took the silverware, plates, and water bottles to the coffee table. Matthew followed behind you with the food.  

“When is your next game?” you questioned him. You needed to know what night you weren’t really going to be sleeping.

“Tomorrow, we get to stay home for the next four game, I think.” Matthew got out between taking bites of the noodles he put on his plate. “What do you want to watch?” he questioned you back.

“Umm...want to watch ‘The Good Doctor’?” you threw out between your bites of chicken.

“Sounds good to me.” he smiled at you. You knew liking your best friend was cliche, but if you pretended there wasn’t anything there; there was nothing there, right?

After eating and watching hulu, you decided it would be a good idea to get some of the homework you didn’t want to actually do, done. Matthew kepting talking to you while you sat at the really dining room table, that you never actually used, typing away on your laptop. Then he would go back and continue on doing whatever he was doing. While he was sitting on the couch in the living room, you got a great view of his face. You looked at him, you mean you really looked at him. Your heart started beating a little bit faster and your cheeks got hot. When he smiled at his show, you felt yourself wanting to smile. You never realized how domesticated this really was. You never realized how you could live with him, like this, forever. You just noticed how much you were going to miss his soft singing when he was in the shower, and his little mannerisms that made your heart beat faster. How he held every door he could open for you.

You thought back to when you were stood up. You thought about how he wouldn't let you go home. How he made you stay so he could give you a ‘proper date’. How he insisted that it wasn’t because you were ugly, and you were actually the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Did he just say that because that was what best friends said? Did he feel the same feelings towards the other, like you did?  No. There was no way he felt the same.

The lazy day ended and you both had to go back to your normal lives. Monday was upon you, and Matthew had a game, and you had class. You were dressed in black jeans, and a flames crewneck tha Matthew gave you to wear around Calgary so people knew you were on the right side of the ‘Battle of Alberta’. Matthew was gone before you had your coffee made. You saw the note he left stating that he was going to go do some laps, and hang out with the team. After your coffee was done you locked up his apartment, and left for class.

Class was boring, but you and Matthew texted so that made things better. Your plans for the night are to now attend his game, that was getting played against the Canucks. No complaints were going to be heard from you. You loved going to watch his games.

The night came quicker than expected, and you were rushing around his apartment trying to find your jersey, that of course had his last name on it, but it was nowhere to be seen. Looking at your watch you decided that if you didn’t leave now then you were never going to make it before puck drop. Last minute decision was made, and you just grabbed one of the many jerseys he had in his closet. The jersey was several sizes too big, but you didn’t mind.

Luck was on your side, because you were somehow able to make it to your seat in time before the game started. You only have to wait a minute before the lineup is being called. Matthew looked to where you always sat, with most of the wags, and smiled bigger when he saw you sitting there in his jersey. You smiled and gave him a slight wave. The game was brutal to say the least. Whenever the Flames were able to score, the Canucks scored right after them. Nevermind all the chirping going on between the two teams, especially Matthew and Jake Virtanen. They were going after each other, and no one was able to keep them apart long enough. You thought everything was going to blow over, but then the gloves were dropped. You stood up in shock, and you were also trying to get a better view. Whenever Matthew got in fights your blood ran cold, and your hands got sweaty.

The referees got everything sorted out, and they both got pentilites. The game stayed close, 3-3, and it was now going into overtime. You could tell how frustrated Matthew was. Overtime came and went, and then shootout time was up. After two misses, it was Matthew’s turn. Your hands got even more sweaty. Then in a blink-and-you’ll-miss it type of moment, Matthew scored for the Flames. You had to sit through the Canucks last shot, but thankfully Markstrom gloved it before it could go in. You could feel the energy that was put back into Saddledome.

As everyone leaves the stadium you stay in your seat, waiting for everything to clear out a little bit. When it looked clear enough you headed to the hallway where most of the wags were already there. You kept to yourself, and quietly waited for Matthew. When the team came out everyone was congratulating them. When Matthew saw you we went straight to you. You saw him a second before he was in front of you, and jumped forward engulfing Matthew in the biggest hug.

“Oh my god. You were amazing.” You smiled, so wide your cheeks hut, but he was smiling just as big. He was holding you from under your thighs, and you had your arms around his neck.

“I couldn’t have done it without you being here.” Matthew whispered in your ear. Neither of you want to let go, but you knew the guys wanted to go celebrate at some bar. So you pulled back, and you swear you saw Matthew frown, as he put you back on the ground.

Apparently the bar everyone wanted to go to was, where you went not even three days ago. Matthew bought you a shot, and you did one with him. Then he bought you one of your regular drinks. That was when you saw Asher sitting on one of the bar stools drinking a beer.

“We have got to stop meeting at this bar.” You stated when you were close enough he would be able to hear you.

“I am not going to disagree with you.” Asher tipped his beer at you and you slightly tripped your drink back at him. “Did you come in with the hockey team?” he questioned you sounding disgusted.

“Yeah. I did. Is that a problem?” you softly asked him

“I bet you’re just some groupie, who likes men that have money and a title.” He accused you. His words were slurred, and you knew he was drunk.

“What did you just say to her?” Matthew angrily spit out. ‘Oh shit’ was the only thing going through your head.

“Oh you both heard me. I saw her get into an Uber with your Saturday night. Right after she was done flirting with me and using me for drinks.” Asher spit out just as angrily but way more intoxicated.

“Both of you stop it!” you yelled out, “Well fuck. Matthew meet Asher, Asher meet Matthew, my friend.” you tried to get everything to settle down, but after you called Matthew your friend, you saw him get even more angry, if that was even possible.

“I don’t care what your relationship is to him. Why the hell did you leave flirting with a guy to get in some other guy’s Uber.” Asher was trying to dominate over you by standing tall and looking down at you. You hated this. You wish you and Matthew just went home instead of go to this stupid bar.

“Back the fuck up, Buddy.” Matthew spits out, “y/n come on. We are going home.” Matthew grabbed your arm and dragged you to his car. It wasn’t really a drag as you were willingly leaving with him, he was just holding your arm.

The car ride was completely silent, the radio not even playing, and no one wanted to speak. When you got back to his apartment was when all hell broke loose.

“So that was Asher? What an outstanding guy.” Matthew was enraged and couldn’t help with throwing out that comment.

“How the hell did you know about Asher?” you asked confused.

“I saw your phone, when I plugged it in for you, and made sure you were tucked into bed. Like a friend would do.” Matthew wrinkled his nose at you.

“Why do you care about the guys I’m texting! You can literally get any girl you want!” you protested.

“I care because I love you! Have you ever seen me take any of those girls back here? No, that's because I was trying to show you I’m not some asshole. I love you dammit.” Matthew professed everything in that one response. Everything was said, and neither of you could take it back. The pause that followed put both of you on edge.

“I love you too.” you whispered out. “I only want to be next to you, and when I’m in class I can’t wait to see you when we grab lunch together or when you hold my legs in your lap when we are watching movies. I love you. I love you so much.” your eyes were watering with all of the emotions coming out of you.  Matthew ran up and pulled up into his arms, holding you like he was at the stadium. Then he leaned in and kissed you. It felt like time stopped, everything was still, except for you and him. You couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of you.

You woke up for the first time in his bed with no clothes on. Matthew was already up and was watching. His grip was firm like if he let you go, he would never see you again. Nothing felt better at that moment.

finished.

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] S2 Victor- Right Now Is The Time (Eng Translation)

⌚ Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a company project that is yet to be released in the global server! ⌚

NOTE: This post features S2 Victor and MC, and takes place some time in between post-Chapter 4 and pre-Chapter 10. And it’s the 4th company project. However, it doesn’t contain any spoilers regarding the S2 storyline. I’ve listed the notable storyline mentions at the end of the post, so no worries about storyline spoilers! (◍•ᴗ•◍)

ー

[ SECTION 1 ]

The day before the show is officially about to be filmed, I’m setting up the apparatuses in the lobby of LFG.

The company’s new variety event “Right Now is The Time” is a workplace observation related reality show, filming the internship of five talented students working at LFG.

According to the script settings, they have to pass a number of tests with the aim of obtaining a formal offer.

In this process, we hope to be able to display young peoples’ ardent love towards life and strive towards improving themselves simultaneously.

The format of this show has been introduced via overseas. I have spent a long time in obtaining the copyright, and also spent quite a long time in convincing Victor to set the filming location at LFG.

Now that the progress is continuing without a flinch, and the filming is officially about to be started, I also can’t refrain from heaving a sigh of relief.

MC: Master, remember to take away all the wires from here when you leave later. Otherwise, the property owner will definitely say something when he sees them on his way to the office at 6 AM.

As I walk around in the construction site, I lower my head to reply to the messages in the group from time to time. Suddenly, as I turn my head, I almost bump into the person standing behind me head-on.

MC: Victor.... what are you doing here?

Victor pulls away from me slightly, sweeping his gaze at the several cameras hanging high up on the wall.

Victor: This is LFG. What do you mean what I’m doing here?

MC: ....No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, why are you still at the office now. It’s already one o’clock.

Victor: Just got finished. What have you got up here?

MC: It’s nothing. The master will be done in a moment. It certainly won’t affect your company’s regular work tomorrow.

Victor seems to be about to say something when an abrupt call pops up on my phone. I embarrassedly duck my head at him, and tap on the call button.

Anna: MC, are you still at LFG? We have just gone through the script, and kept feeling that we won’t be able to shoot so much in one day. We have to pick out some contents to delete.

Anna: How about you do a round trip to the office, and we go over it one last time?

MC: Okay. I’m also done here anyway. I’ll go back right now. Are you guys hungry? I could buy some late-night snacks and bring them up.

Anna: No need for late-night snacks. We will try to get it done within the shortest possible time.

MC: Alright. I’ll be at the office within half an hour.

I hang up the phone, and turn my head to look at Victor. Even before I can say anything, he opens his mouth immediately.

Victor: I’ll drive you to the office.

MC: It’s okay. I can go back on my own. It’s too late already. You’d better go back and rest.

Victor: You also know it yourself that it’s too late.

He stares at me for a couple of moments, and seems to sigh. Then he takes out the car key from his pocket, motioning me to walk towards the elevator.

Victor: I happen to be going to the airport. I’ll drop you off on the way.

Victor: I’ll be away on a business trip these two days. If you need anything, look for Goldman directly. He will help you in arranging it.

MC: OK. But....

Did he set off for going to the airport in the middle of the night, and is going to attend a meeting on the next day straight away? Although I’ve always known that his work intensity is like this....

Victor: But what?

I fish out a picture from my phone and send it to him, smiling at him jestingly.

MC: I’ve sent you a phone wallpaper.

There are only six words written on the black background with white characters: “Working-class people, working-class souls.”

[ Note: It’s actually sort of a running joke in Chinese “打工人, 打工魂” (dǎ gōng rén, dǎ gōng hún) about the distress of the working class people :(. It has a rhymed version of it in English, but I’m not going to mention it here cause I’m not sure if I should be typing the word haha~ ]

MC: Although I know you are a capitalist, but you are able to understand the spirit.

MC: CEO Victor~ mutual encouragement!

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 2 ]

Before Victor returns from the business trip, I specifically give him a call, wanting to arrange for one of the outstanding performing interns in the show to pick him up at the airport.

I really can’t bear to miss on a good filming material like this.

Victor is speechless on the phone for about 10 seconds before he finally sighs.

Victor: The audiences with little common sense would know that, it’s not within the turns of an intern to pick-up at the airport.

MC: Yes, yes, yes, it’s certainly not within the turns of an intern to pick-up the CEO at the airport. But CEO....

MC: You have great compassion towards considering the ratings of my shows. And you also know how important your appearance for this show is....

MC: You promised me, that you could make an appearance in the trailer for at least 3-5 seconds.

Victor: But according to my understanding of you, when you have a great amount of source materials, it’s impossible to have only 3-5 seconds.

MC: This is no surprise.

MC: You already knew this, and you still promised me. It’s clear that this 3-5 seconds is not the important point. The important point is making the appearance in the appropriate way.

MC: I think going with this pick-up method is very appropriate!

MC: Just be yourself. Whether you want to speak or not, what to say or how to say it, it’s all up to your pleasure, CEO Victor. Is this OK?

An almost inaudible sigh can be heard from Victor over the phone.

Victor: OK. I’ll arrive at 4 PM on the day after tomorrow. If you want to film the pick-up, make the arrangements in advance.

MC: The arrangements will certainly be made adequately for you! I’ll ask Goldman for the flight number.

Victor: Your tone sounds like you’re going to make arrangements with great fanfare.

MC: It’s just.... such as, since it’s a cameo, what kind of clothing and make-up....

Victor: No need.

MC: ....

MC: Yep, yep, yep. No need. CEO Victor will win the show as soon as he steps in front of the lens of the camera. We focus on the authenticity.

Victor: I still have matters to attend to. Let’s leave it here.

MC: You go ahead. I’ll get in touch with you the moment there is some progress!

Since I’ve received the special authority to shoot, I naturally arrange everything up frantically.

On the day of picking up at the airport, I sit in front of the monitor from beginning to the end, and stare at it from the first second Victor gets into the car to the final second. The result is beyond expectation—

Unexpectedly, he and the intern in charge of picking up hasn’t spoken a word.

The big brother in charge of filming laughs out loud as he looks at it: Playing this segment of 3-5 seconds would do it. Perhaps the audiences are going to feel like they are stuck in the frame.

MC: [ Talking to herself ] ....Victor wouldn’t be so stingy to really just give me a few seconds of materials, would he?

I wait until the filming clearance carrying great doubts, and is just intending to look for the intern in charge of picking up and ask a few questions, but that person disappears in the blink of an eye.

After a while, he comes over and finds me, additionally carrying a paper medicine bag in his hand.

Intern: Sister MC, CEO Victor spoke a few words with me after getting off the car. I felt his voice sounded a little hoarse. Would you like to send this to him?

MC: A little hoarse?

Intern: Mm, it felt like a cold. Luckily, we have also been on a project with CEO Victor in the past 2 days. Director Zhang said he even received an email from CEO Victor at 3 o’clock last night. The temperature difference in these two days was so huge and CEO Victor hasn’t rested well. So he might have caught a cold.

A wave of worry floats to my heart as I carry the medicine bag in my hand.

This person.... still doesn’t understand when he starts to feel unwell, nor does he know to make a sound about it.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 3 ]

I knock on the door to Victor’s office, and there is no response for a long time.

This kind of situation is very rare. I feel a little worried, and twist the doorknob to push open a little crack.

Victor leans back in his chair, dozing off. I haven’t pushed the door too loudly, but it still wakes him up.

He straightens up his back, and reaches out his hand to pinch the space between his eyebrows as he looks at me.

I feel somewhat very bad, and simply walk straight over.

MC: ....Did I wake you up? The intern said your voice sounded a little hoarse. So he bought some medicines for you, and asked me to bring them to you.

MC: Are you OK?

I can’t help stepping forward, and reaching out my hand to place it on his forehead. He has just woken up, his reaction clearly hasn’t come over, and he doesn’t even frown almost subconsciously like ordinary times.

MC: Fortunately, it’s not a fever.

Victor adjusts his suit, picks up the cup, and takes only one sip before putting it down again.

Victor: It’s no big deal.

....His voice indeed is very hoarse, and one can tell it’s a cold just by hearing it.

I rummage through the bag of medicines, and inside are throat-smoothening lozenges, indigowoad roots, fever patches– everything needed is available. It can be clearly seen that the person who bought the medicines was considerate and very attentive.

— Someone might be able to take over the job from Goldman in the future.

I eye up his cup once again. Thinking that the water inside surely have gotten cold a long time ago, I smoothly tear open a bag of indigowoad roots right away, and give it to Victor to brew up.

He actually doesn’t refuse, lifts up the cup with his both hands, letting the warm steam rising from the cup to blow on his face.

It’s rare for me to see him with the appearance of being unable to lift up his spirits like this, and I truly can’t help but frown.

MC: Why is it that the first thing you do after getting off the plane is coming back to the office, and not give yourself even a day of sick leave?

Before Victor can say anything, his phone sitting on the table starts vibrating.

I look at the lock screen illuminated by the light. Surprisingly, it really is that picture of “Working-class people, working-class soul” I have given him earlier.

Victor ignores the phone, and lowers his head to drink two sips of the indigowoad roots.

Victor: There are two more meetings in the evening, and the time was fixed already a long time ago.

The implication is that, it’s not happening.

My very soul is shaken: When the capitalists work with all their might like this, what qualifications do I have to not make great efforts.

MC: ....If this segment of yours is included in the show, LFG’s stock price will have to rise by at least three limit ranges.

Victor casts his everyday speechless expression at me. Judging from this reaction, it must have gotten a little bit slower due to the dizzy state he has been in just a moment ago.

I set my heart down, and shove my both hands inside the pockets of my coat.

MC: If you’re all right, I’ll go on and continue to keep an eye on the progress. There are throat-smoothening lozenges in that medicine bag. Remember to take them if your throat feels uncomfortable.

Victor nods, and as soon as I turn my head, he picks up the phone.

MC: Remember—

I suddenly recall when I have walked to the door, and smile at him as I lean against the crack of the door.

MC: To drink plenty of hot water!

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 4 ]

Today’s filming goes on till 10 o’clock, and wraps up without a hitch.

I heard Goldman say that Victor’s meeting has also adjourned about at this same time. I buy some food for him and bring them over. As expected, he really hasn’t eaten again.

He is probably tired, and doesn’t hold it against my meddling in other people’s business, nor does he mock my poor order.

Just as I have set the four dishes on the coffee table, he then picks up the chopsticks on his own.

MC: Chicken, fish, less salt, less oil, and high protein.

MC: How’s this? This sick meal is still not bad, right? [1]

Without making any assessment, Victor picks up the rice, and tastes two bites in order to show his affirmation.

Victor: How’s the filming of the show coming along?

MC: Surprisingly good.

When the topic of the interns who participated in the filming of the show is raised, I don’t know how am I supposed to praise them.

MC: Kids nowadays can be extremely quick-witted. They learn things both fast and well, and are also very savvy about interpersonal relationships....

MC: Each one of them are standard template for the business elite.

MC: There is this one intern who came to LFG on the first day, and the department manager called him to write a summary on the conference....

MC: He said straightforwardly that he didn’t know how to do it, and requested for someone to teach him.

MC: And at that time, we were even talking about it encircling behind the monitor.

MC: If it were up to the conventional thinking, the audience surely would have thought that he’d be stifling, be scarlet red in the face and enter the conference room trembling in fear.

MC: In the end, not only did he not have any of those, but was even very frank with his approach. This kind of self-confidence is too rare.

Victor suddenly laughs while eating.

Victor: Do you think they are all just like you?

MC: ....What’s wrong with me!

Victor: Always preferring to buff your way out.

MC: Am not!

Even if I really have, it was also a long time ago. Things are very different now.

MC: Anyway, not....

Victor is still smiling. His smile makes me feel that these few clearly light and bland dishes must be very tasty indeed.

Victor: Considering your opinion, they all possibly will get the offer smoothly?

MC: Of course.

MC: Trust me. They are all excellent. You were able to attract such a group of youngsters towards LFG, and have made the profit!

MC: And also after the show is broadcast, it will be a good thing for LFG’s publicity aspect too.

MC: Didn’t you say earlier that LFG’s Strategic Development Department wants to set up an image of high professionalism in the public’s eyes?

Victor: Since you are this set on heart about LFG’s future, you should be brought along to future meetings of the Strategic Development Department.

Victor: And give you the title of external consultant.

MC: I’ll come if I’m given the wages.

Hearing him speak in a voice a little more hoarse than in the afternoon, I think and know as well that he has spoken a lot during the meetings again. I get up to pour him a cup of hot water.

Victor doesn’t say anything, and carefully eats the food. Not a moment later, my phone rings out abruptly.

Kiki: Boss— I’ve something to ask you. How many minutes in total is the pilot episode going to run?

MC: Half an hour or so, I think. Take a look at the source material in use.

MC: ....Are you still at the office? It’s already half past ten. Didn’t I say you can take an early break today to rest.

Kiki: Alright, I’ll go back immediately. Boss, you should call it an early night too.

Victor puts down the bowl and chopsticks, and leisurely wipes his lips while shooting me an alarming glance.

Victor: It’s so late already. You’re not off work either.

Victor: And you still call someone else a workaholic?

[ Note: The phrase used here is “人家” (rén jia) which can be translated to other people/someone else. But it’s also used to referring “oneself” as “people/someone.” So basically here, Victor is saying how MC calls him a workaholic LOL. Similar to how the “a certain someone” phrase is often used in their conversation. ]

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 5 ]

I stare at Victor, and sigh in a manner as though I want to say something but am hesitating.

MC: But I came here to bring you dinner in the spirit of dedication based on “It is everyone’s duty to take care of the Boss.”

MC: Did you just classify this as autonomous overtime activity?

I hold out my hand towards him.

MC: How about you pay for the overtime?

Victor shoots me a glance, and simply purses his lips with a faint smile.

Victor: I don’t know if I can afford to pay the charges of the gold medal producer.

I laugh along with him, and raise my eyebrows imitating the way he usually does.

MC: If you can’t afford to pay, I can give you a discount.

As we are talking, Kiki sends me a rough cut of the video that’s going to be used in the pilot. I place my phone on the coffee table, and turn it in an angle that both Victor and I can see.

MC: Just in time. Let’s have a little look at the clip of the show with dinner.

This segment happens to be the scene when the interns were being interviewed.

At first glance, they all appear to be business elites clad in suits and with boundless prospects. But the tension in between waiting during the intervals is entirely visible to the unaided eye.

....Also there was a young girl, as a result of being too keyed-up, she even decided to memorize a piece of English text to loosen up for a while.

I watch with keen interest, and Victor looks at my gaze with keen interest.

Their expression and state of affairs– immediately makes me evoke all of that scene in one go, that time back then, when I stood in front of Victor.

Victor: What’s on your mind that you’re so engrossed in watching?

MC: Don’t you have a sense of resonance? Weren’t you like this when you were young?

Just as expected, Victor gives an expression of “Of course not.”

....Is the world so enormously uneven?

Victor bores through two more segments anyway, and the video happens to be onto the time when the interns were receiving their written notice of the internship prepared by the program team.

MC: Yesterday Anna discussed with me that this pilot segment is intended for setting up the keynotes for the show, and in what pattern the character are written here is very important.

MC: What we are thinking about at the moment is— Beginning from here on out, may we all have a luminous and sparkling future ahead of us with boundless prospects.

MC: What do you think?

Victor has been titling his head to the side throughout as he listens to my words, showing no expression of evaluation.

Victor: About what exactly to do on your shows, don’t you usually ask for less of my specific opinions?

I tap pause on the video, and the frame rests on the glass window outside the LFG building, reflecting off the blue sky and white clouds.

MC: This time it’s different. This group of youngsters are from LFG.

MC: You’ve worked so hard in creating LFG to have a platform so bright and beautiful....

MC: Isn’t it just in the hope that even more people will find broader future here.

Victor’s gaze remains calm and collected, and a smile has been gracing the corners of his lips all along.

It’s already very late at night. Seeing that Victor has also had his fill, I tidy up the coffee table at once, get up and gesture at him.

MC: Let’s go CEO. Time to get off work.

MC: I’ll drive you home.

Victor is clearly taken aback for a moment.

Victor: You’ll drive me?

I nod boldly and self-righteously.

MC: Goldman got off work already at an earlier time, and also greeted me just before leaving. You’ve taken the cold medicine tonight. I’m driving, okay.

Victor: ....

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 6 ]

My car is parked directly opposite the elevator. As soon as Victor steps out of the elevator, he walks straight over to the backseat, pulls open the car door, and hops in without saying a word.

I fasten my seatbelt in the driver’s seat, and can’t help from glancing over at the back seat.

MC: CEO Victor, generally speaking.... at times like this, you should be taking the passenger seat.

Victor looks down at his phone without even lifting his head for a bit.

Victor: I’m not used to with sitting in the passenger seat. [2]

MC: ....Fine.

After all, he is the CEO. It makes sense that he has never sat in the passenger seat before.

I suddenly recall the app-based taxi guidance, and repeat them without missing a word.

MC: Our trip is about to begin. Please fasten your seatbelt. Is the temperature inside the car fairly appropriate?

This time, Victor lifts up his head to look at me, his eyes laced with very obvious confusion.

Evidently, the CEO has almost never taken a taxi either.

Overjoyed, I drive the car out of the parking lot, then immediately lower half the car window, letting the unrestrained sweet night breeze of spring to blow in.

Victor hasn’t said anything all the way, typing down messages on his phone from time to time.

Halfway through the journey, Victor puts the phone back in his pocket, leans back in the seat and looks outside window, laughing in a lazy manner as though soliloquizing.

Victor: You are the person I know, who very rarely let me set down my work to rest.

I think back carefully— in fact, that was not the case. It’s just not in his memory.  *[ clutches chest ]*

But now, it really isn’t my habit to speak up too much to persuade him into something. He has his own principles and reasons for everything he does....

MC: You won’t listen even if I said so anyway.

MC: Also.... work is a very important thing to you. I can understand that.

Half the side of Victor’s face is reflected on the dark tinted car window, and his eyes are casted towards me in alarm, within which are reflected the gorgeous neon lights of the city.

Victor: Does work have to be a very important thing?

The lights of the street lamps fall on the asphalt road. This road, carpeted with light, seems so far away that it doesn’t have an end.

MC: Mm.... work is a very important thing.

MC: Work is akin to flights of steps. By stepping up and standing in an even higher place, you can then do the things you want to do more.

MC: Perhaps back then, the CEO of LFG has also been just like these group of youngsters. Clad in a suit, standing at the starting point, and then he walked on his way to this day.

In the rearview mirror, Victor locks eyes with me meaningfully. This is an expression I’m familiar with, an expression that represents his tacit  understanding.

Victor: Earlier, did you want to have me attend the show’s press conference?

I pick up on the keynote, and hurriedly get my spirits up.

MC: You agreed!

Hearing my absolutely certain tone, Victor smiles faintly.

Victor: I haven’t said anything yet.

MC: I still have some of that sharp workplace acumen, and don’t need to be told everything by the CEO to get it right. I can understand the spirit on my own.

Victor doesn’t say anything anymore, and he lowers the car window too. Seeing the night breeze messing up the fringes in front of his forehead, I’ve originally wanted to speak up, and remind him that he’s unwell and should refrain from blowing the wind....

On a second thought I feel, the breeze is very comfortable and is worth blowing.

Especially after constantly running around for several days, and after finally ending a busy and tiring day.

It’s worth blowing a little breeze, and having a look at this resplendent city.

◇──◆──◇──◆──◇──◆──

[ SECTION 7]

The press conference has been arranged at a hotel under the banner of LFG. Victor has been invited to attend, and he sits in the VIP area off the stage.

I’ve arranged the sequence of process in advance. The only thing he needs to consider is that going up on the stage– next, saying a few words to make an official speech, and that will suffice.

But today’s situation is comparatively lively, and the reporters are clearly very interested in LFG itself as well.

As soon as Victor comes up on the stage, there is constant applause, and the “click-click-click” sound of taking photos nearly overpowers the clamors of the tide of people.

The host has tried several times to ask Victor, who has already finished his speech and is getting off the stage, but couldn’t find the appropriate opportunity to do so. Thereupon, I cast an inquiring glance.

I’ve just got up, wanting to stop the reporters, but Victor lifts up his hand— which means is that, it’s fine.

Victor invites the reporters to ask questions one by one— in a manner that, he is in a very good mood today, and nobody will be refused.

Reporter: CEO Victor, is there any serious consideration behind LFG choosing to collaborate with this kind workplace related variety show?

Victor: There aren’t any serious considerations. We simply feel that, every one of the employees working at LFG are excellent, and they are worthy of being seen by everyone.

Reporter: Excuse me, CEO Victor, do you have anything to say to these young people who have become a member of LFG?

After glancing at me faintly, Victor once again looks towards the press box, and opens his mouth unhurriedly, uttering the words that I have said in front of him before.

Victor: I hope that they will set sail on their journey from LFG, and have a luminous and sparkling future with boundless prospects.

When the applause rings out, I suddenly realize that– I, too, have apparently set sail on my journey clumsily under Victor’s wings, and then slowly walked on my way to this day.

Regardless of the time, the LFG he has created, the doors of this tremendous business empire is wide open to all dreams, waiting for young people, waiting for everyone.

The letters “LFG” have long since not only been the bearer of Victor’s expectations and prospects alone.

After walking through the entire sequence of events, the press conference is officially concluded.

As soon as the hotel brings up the wine and food for the buffet, I immediately offer my eager attention to Victor, busying myself with choosing the champagne to bring over to him.

MC: Is CEO Victor fairly satisfied with this press conference?

Victor takes the wine glass in my hand, and gently raises his hand to gesture at me.

Victor: This is your show, as long as the producer is satisfied with it– that will do.

From my peripheral vision, I catch a glimpse of the interns in the show being huddled together, taking selfies against the signature board at the doorway, and am instantly struck by an idea.

MC: Victor, why don’t you wish me a future with boundless prospects too, and give me a blessing for good luck.

With one hand in his pocket, Victor turns his head to look at me.

Victor: You’re already very luminous and sparkling. Do you still need to ask for this kind of blessing for good luck?

MC: The more the better.

A smear of smile hangs across the side of Victor’s lips, and he even mulls it over for a while.

Victor: In that case, I wish that you.... can always sparkle luminously, at all times.

I’m able to intuitively grasp a little bit of the implied meaning within his words. Accordingly, I draw closer to Victor.

MC: Just like you?

Victor slightly lowers his eyes to regard me, his gaze- carrying within them a smile lands on my face.

Victor: If you want to, you can.

◇──◆──◇

[ EXTRA TIDBITS: ]

[1] - MC is referring to the time Victor was in hospital in CH 4.

[2] - Victor mentions this event during the car tampering incident of CH 10, when MC told him that he’d get penalty for running the red light, and he replies with- that it’s fine cause he has a driver LOL.

──

[wallwriterstuff]

Still Learning ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 1: Little Rabbit 

Warnings: None, this is fairly fluffy for once. 

Words: 3161

Summary: A part 2 to Little Rabbit as requested by @clowence. 

It’s been a few months since Demetri took you in now, and you’re starting to realise he’s more than just a mentor to you. 

3 secretaries, 2 weeks in the dungeons for each one, and 1 one very patient man.

That was the brief version of your time with the Volturi so far. Demetri had been enraged when the Masters’ sent you to the dungeons the first time, though he had reluctantly let you go without a fight when it happened twice more. You had tried your best to be good, really you had, but the secretaries had just smelled so good and you were so thirsty all the damn time...

“And that is why you never lose focus in a fight.” Felix’s fist was like a sledgehammer against your jaw, shattering the porcelain skin. You hit the floor hard, a hiss escaping your throat. Felix had been assigned to train you by Demetri himself, since he trusted very few people to be around you, but Felix trained you hard. Your daily routine consisted of being his punch bag for a few hours, but it gave you something else to focus on other than the grating thirst. It was like a constant itch in the back of your throat, one that grew worse and made your throat raw when you were thirsty but was slowly dimming to background noise as the months passed.

Demetri had kept a close eye on you for the nine months you had been with him. Not once in all that time had decided to tell you you were his mate of course, seeing your obvious struggle with day to day existence and not wanting to add to that. The Volturi was not a place for newborns. It was a coven of much older, experienced vampires who had harnessed their gifts and their thirst – you were very much an outsider. Constantly teased, constantly under siege by your own instincts, and yet…you made him proud every single day. He made sure you had the room next to his, Aro not denying you that privilege of living amongst the higher guard after seeing Demetri’s thoughts on the matter.

Silently, he had watched you try to adjust to your new life, and after seeing your evenings were the hardest to deal with he had set up a nightly routine of visiting you when he didn’t have a duty assigned to him or something to do. You quickly picked up the Italian he taught you, your new mind quick to recall everything you had ever thought or seen from the moment you had awoken in this life, and he had been pleasantly surprised by your eagerness to learn some Greek from him to, completely oblivious that it was an attempt on your part simply to show him a little gratitude and interest.

The truth was, he knew you better than you knew yourself in this life. The moment you started to have a little wobble Demetri was at your side like he had never left it, and the intensity of the flurry of emotions he invoked was too much for you to bear some nights. After months spent in his company, nights where reading together became nights you spent curled up next to him as he read to you, casual touches began to linger, his hand on your waist as you moved past one another in the halls or your hand touching his as you passed books between you. He no longer held you back by the shoulders as he tried to teach you some restraint as you fed (your weekly trips to Florence something you very much looked forward to as it meant a bit of alone time with him) but by the hips instead, his lips playing along your hairline distracting you more than anything so you weren’t always sure if it was your actual self-control getting better or if you were just growing more aware of Demetri.

Felix had your back pressed into the floor once more, his hands gripping your head lightly.

“And now I can take your head off of your shoulders. What is distracting you today?” he asked. You groaned, struggling weakly until Felix let you up.

“I just am.” You grumbled. How was you supposed to tell him his best friend was invading your thoughts? You couldn’t. Felix would absolutely rip you apart.

“Distractions always have a root cause.” He pointed out neutrally. A flash of irritation made you hiss quietly before you took a breath to collect yourself. Felix smirked ever so slightly, sensing your frustration and silently lowering into a half-crouch to try and tempt you to take it out on him. You ignored him and ran a hand through your hair.

“I’m making no progress.” You huffed, a complete lie. Felix seemed to know it was a lie to but he let you get away with it, tilting his head slightly in what you thought was going to be a nod before it became a shake. You frowned.

“You have made a lot of progress, even if you don’t think that you have. I have been fighting newborns for over two millenia Y/N, most would not stand up to me like you can,” He assured you, “When your heads in the right place.” He added with a smirk.

“You’ll have a chance to prove you’ve made progress tonight.” Alec’s voice was a welcome one, even if you didn’t quite get on with the twins all the time. Jane was nowhere to be seen today but Alec stood tall in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. Your frown only deepened, mind racing a million miles ahead as to what that might mean. Did they want you to fight Felix in front of them? A mission maybe? Newborns didn’t go on missions, you were told so by a very upset Caius when you had first come to Volterra and asked what you might be doing to repay them for giving you a room.

“Put the poor girl out of her misery Alec, her mind is wandering today.” Felix chuckled.

“Heidi will be returning early today, Master Aro has extended an invitation to you to join us for feeding time.” Alec informed you. If you weren’t tense before you were now, your entire body freezing up a little. Feed with them? In the main hall? You had so little experience feeding around other vampires, your control still not perfect, what if you made a fool out of yourself in front of the entire guard?

“If vampires could go pale…”Felix grinned wickedly, obviously enjoying your discomfort. You shot him a glare.

“I’m hardly a pro at any of this!” you protested. Part of you were sure this was a test, or maybe a punishment. Caius had been very upset with you for killing their pilot and every secretary you had accidentally slaughtered had only kept you further and further out of his good graces. This had to be some sort of test for you, and you feared the dungeons more than anything. The smell was awful and the dark was constant, the groans of fellow prisoners a constant echo in your ears. You didn’t want to go back there.

“Y/N stop panicking, I’m sure with all the hard work you and Demetri have put in you’ll be fine.” Felix promised.

“I need to shower.” You murmured, fleeing the room before either of them could stop you. It was a lie, of course, vampires couldn’t sweat, but there was still something so calming about the hot water flowing over your frozen skin that for a few moments, you could simply escape your troubled thoughts. When you were done you sat on your bed in nothing more than your towel, staring distractedly at the door you were sure someone would come through to fetch you when Heidi arrived. Sulu didn’t let your mind drift too long, hopping up onto your bed and nosing at your hands in an effort to get you to stroke him.

Sulu’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, tongue wagging and pounding the mattress. What was Aro playing at? What could he possibly gain from making you feed with the others tonight? Was Demetri aware of this plan? Did he think you could do it? Would he be with you? Sulu licked at your hand, his big brown eyes questioning even if he couldn’t physically ask you anything. With a quiet sigh you leaned down to nuzzle him before crossing to your wardrobe, picking something appropriate to see the Masters’ in. You didn’t want to let Demetri down today, that was your biggest fear. He had helped you so much, given you so much of your life back when you thought it had been lost to you forever. The soft sound of scratching made you look up, slipping some socks on as you padded back to your room. Demetri lay on his side, fingers scratching at Sulu’s tummy.

“Heidi will be here any moment.” He said by way of greeting. You internally flinched. Not the news you wanted to hear. Apparently your silence was disconcerting to him and Demetri looked up with a frown, his eyes raking your body slightly while you avoided the dark burgundy irises, knowing they would see through every façade you put on.

“Great.” You murmured, moving towards your shoes by the door. You had barely jammed your feet into them when warm hands pulled you into a sturdy chest. The familiar softness of his lips found your temple, and you unwittingly relaxed into his grip.

“Stop worrying so much, you will be fine.” He promised. The affection was a tad overwhelming to your already overworking mind but you let yourself drown in it anyway.

“What if I mess up? I don’t want to go back to the dungeons.” You whispered, voice wavering slightly. Demetri squeezed your hips.

“You have nothing to fear. I will be right there with you.” His reassurances were sweet in your ear and before you knew it he had led you hand in hand to the throne room. Exchanging a long look with him, you squeezed his hand tighter in the hopes he’d know not to let go. The rest of the guard had already assembled, the Masters’ stood waiting to greet their tourists. Alec and Jane glanced towards you, Felix sending you the briefest of smiles. A few murmurs went up around the room and Demetri silenced them with a fierce glare.

“Ah, young Y/N. How wonderful to see you again. I have heard good things from the others.” Aro greeted you with an extended hand and you silently wished he hadn’t, wanting to keep your worries private. Still, you knew it wasn’t a request. Aro rifled through your thoughts like it was a slideshow put on just for him, and you dared not make eye contact as he chuckled. He neither confirmed nor denied your fears, simply let Demetri lead you away towards his station in the room. His hand was tight around your own.

“You will be fine darling, just remember all you have learned. No one is expecting perfection.” He promised you.

“I am.” Caius muttered, a sadistic grin spreading on his lips. You tensed up, hearing the familiar click of Heidi’s heels. It was followed by a gaggle of voices, a thousand beats of thudding hearts and the crash of blood rushing through veins, a similar sound to what your hazy mind could recall hearing at the Niagara Falls once when you visited. You tightened your grip on Demetri’s hand, holding your breath as he had taught you to do. His thumb moved in slow circles over the back of your hand. It felt like a small stretch of eternity had passed before Heidi even opened the doors, flashing you a bright grin as she went and introducing the end of the tour. Aro stood, all beaming smiles and clapping hands.

“Welcome! Welcome friends, to Volterra!” he cried, spreading his arms wide. You could shut off your lungs but not your ears. A cacophony of heartbeats and breathing and shuffling feet grated on your ears, every little sound rattling against your already frayed nerves. It was difficult to focus on Aro’s speech as it rambled on and on, Demetri squeezing your hand every now and then the only thing really grounding you – that and your fierce determination to prove every smug guard looking your way wrong. Clearly nobody expected you to last, and you couldn’t honestly blame them. Your patience was wearing thin, your throat feeling like someone had shoved a red hot poker down into its depths.

“Easy, Y/N, try to think past your thirst,” Demetri murmured. You hadn’t even realised you’d leaned forward until you were pulled back against his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly. “Do not let them win, you are stronger than this.” He whispered, so low only you would hear. You grit your teeth, tearing your eyes away from the throbbing skin of a woman’s pulse.

“I can’t.” you hissed.

“You can.” He said firmly, tightening his grip on you. It was a horrific feeling, being unable to stop your mind from slipping away from you, but you could feel the frenzy taking hold, taking root in your mind. It was impossible to think past the roaring in your head and you instinctively began to struggle against Demetri’s hold, the warmth of his embrace starting to feel suffocating.  There was a man across from you, a living, breathing human, with blood flowing beneath the surface of sweat dewed skin and a heart that was pounding in your ears, a tattoo in your brain you couldn’t seem to get rid of.

“And so concludes your tour…I do hope you enjoyed your stay.” You could hear him, but Aro’s words had no meaning in your head, no definition connected to any of them. They were empty, meaningless. Demetri’s grip suddenly disappeared and your head snapped around, teeth bared. He smiled slightly, giving you a nod.

“Now?” you ground out.

“Go ahead my love.”

You were away like a bullet from a gun, turning and launching yourself at the human opposite you. You’d never fed in such a public space, so many people around you, so many onlookers, but it didn’t seem to matter to you in that moment as instinct took over. You were lost to that first, hot burst of blood, drowning in complete ecstasy as a maelstrom of violence erupted around you. Your mind slowly filtered back to you as you drank, the fire clearing and conscious thought becoming easier. Picking your next target was more strategic than the first, since you had to avoid Santiago’s deadly glare as you did so, and by the time your woman of choice was limp in your arms there was a warm body behind yours.  You sank into him immediately, falling back against his chest. His breath was still warm on your ear from the blood of his chosen victim.

“How bad do I look on a scale of one to ten?” you mumbled as the last of the screams died away. Demetri chuckled.

“To me, cara mia, you are always Aphrodite personified.” He promised. You smiled slightly, sure you would blush if you still could. Demetri was always dropping little compliments like that, and they almost always succeeded in making you forget where you were. It wasn’t until Aro’s slow applause echoed about the room that you remembered exactly where you were. Your head snapped toward him and you swallowed, glancing down at your shirt. You weren’t…messy, per say, but you certainly weren’t as spotless as the others.

“Well done young one, it seems Demetri has taught you well; I expected nothing less, of course.” He glanced to the tracker who stood a bit taller behind you.

“She is wearing half of her victim.” Caius sneered. You ducked your gaze a bit in embarrassment.

“But her control was applaudable, I admit I was betting against you.” Alec’s voice was warmer than usual and that mischievous sparkle was in his eye once more – he clearly enjoyed proving Caius wrong.

“Er…thanks?” you replied uncertainly. Demetri chuckled.

“If you would excuse us, Masters’, I think someone needs a fresh change of clothes.” He teased. You groaned softly but let him lead you from the room when Aro granted permission to do so. The walk back to your quarters was silent, but the air between you was charged. There were so many thoughts and feelings you had accrued in your head over the past 8 months, so many things you hadn’t actually said to him.

“Thank you.” You figured it was a good place to start. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“For what? You did that all on your own.” He pointed out. You shook your head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear and grimacing when your hand came back bloody.

“But you taught me to do that. You’ve taught me a lot, actually. I just...thank you, for giving me a chance to learn and not just…you know.” You trailed off awkwardly. Demetri paused, seemingly deliberating what he wanted to say before with a quiet sigh, he clasped the back of your neck, pulling you closer so he could press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You were the only one to survive you know, the only newborn that lived that day, because I selfishly could not imagine a world without you in it. Everything I do I do to keep you by my side, my motivations are the most selfish…you have no reason to thank me.” He murmured, his expression soft and adoring. You blinked, sure you were seeing and hearing wrong, but his thumb stroked your cheek tenderly as if to confirm his words. So he wanted you huh? The news warmed your soul, or whatever was left of it. It felt like the right moment.

“I love you.” You whispered. A hint of a smile crossed his lips.

“I have waited for those words.” He confessed, moving his lips from your forehead to his own.

“I love you.” You mumbled, already intoxicated by the merest brush of his lips on yours. Demetri hummed.

“One more time.”

“I love you.” You smiled, winding your arms around his neck. Demetri’s kiss was all consuming, deep and desperate in his effort to show you exactly how he had felt for the past 8 months since the day you had met. It was an outpouring of love and devotion and all the good kinds of things that made your toes curl, your heart soar.

“You need another shower.” He murmured, but his lips didn’t relinquish yours. You giggled, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. His low growl made your knees weak.

“In another moment of selfishness, are you planning on offering me yours?” you questioned. Demetri had lifted you off of the floor in a matter of seconds, grinning now.

“I’ll be as selfish as you let me my love.”

[pandawriterstuff]

Pinehallow Summary & Character List

This is my main WIP, if I'm complaining about characters doing whatever they want, this is them.

Pinehallow Summary-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself.

Character List

Monty (Montgomery) Cade Waller- Main character, 11, white. Monty is curious, bright, and more than a little awkward. He has a tendency to state the obvious, which can be endearing or annoying depending on your perspective. Big vocabulary and grown-up way of speaking because he’s spent more time around grown-ups than other kids. He’s quietly stubborn, particularly when it comes to being told he’s wrong when he knows he’s right. Insecure about socializing and friendships because of constant moving and traveling. Can’t hold a grudge for the life of him, even when he likely should. He likes bugs, birds and turtles, would rather read nonfiction than a story. Fills lonely afternoons with sketching, nature sketching on the ranch.

Irene Waller- Monty’s mother, 36, white. Irene is a powerful corporate lawyer, either full of energy or exhausted, never in between. She loves using words to sway minds and deciphering documents to find exactly what the opposition doesn’t want her to find. Sometimes Irene wishes she was using her skills in more meaningful ways, but also really likes the money, the traveling, and the competition. Has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes from musicals. She has a hard time letting people get close. Would stab someone for her baby, but knows it’s better to teach him to stab for himself. Only partially joking. Dolly Parton is her hero, and as much as she loves her music, it’s Dolly the business woman and Dolly the philanthropist that she strives to emulate.

Keith Waller- Monty’s uncle, 34, white. Horse Rancher. Keith loves working hard and getting dirty, and if he’s not exhausted at the end of the day he’ll be looking for something else to push him there. Otherwise he gets antsy. Loves animals and absolutely will not tolerate anyone mistreating any of the animals on his ranch-ordinarily he’s very careful of his size and strength, in that situation, all bets are off. Times that by about ten for any of the ‘barn rats’ that help around the ranch for riding lessons/time. Loves romantic comedies and telanovas and doesn’t care who knows it. Keith doesn’t read a lot, it never came easy to him, but if he’s taking a long trip he’ll always check an audio book or two out of the library instead of just relying on the radio.

Juniper - Keith’s goddaughter, 15, white. She has a calm, confident personality with a smile for most everyone she meets. If she doesn’t have a smile for you and it isn’t because her head is in the clouds over a girl, you’ve probably earned her scorn and will be ignored as much as possible. Juniper raises rabbits and it’s taught her patience, and a lot about unfairness when a kit doesn’t make it. She helps out with riding lessons at the ranch in exchange for riding time of her own, and has become a fixture, spending more time there than she does at home, and when she can get away with it, school. Loves sunflowers and her sunflower comforter is probably her most prized possession.

Nell - Caretaker/cook for the ranch house(would cooking lunch for the workers still be a thing on a modern ranch?). 38, white(?). Not about to put up with nonsense. Will make you cookies if she doesn’t have to put up with nonsense. Please. At one point she wanted to be a chef and has a year of culinary school under her belt, but quickly decided the super fast paced and competitive environment wasn’t for her. Anything that was making her hate one of her favorite things that fast could not be good for a person. She intends to live a long, long life and that kind of stress can just walk right out of the door. Loves to go on long walks, often into the hills (BLM land) behind the ranch. (maybe she was taught/took a class on foraging, and teaches Monty to find wild onions and stuff? But this would mean *I* have to learn about foraging in Idaho.) This leads to a contented, if often silent, companionship between her and Monty, who desperately wants to explore/record/sketch everything about the natural world of his new home, particularly the parts that are off limits to him without an adult along.

Ray- Family Friend/Co-Owner of R & M General (designed to feel vintage, but shiny. Bit of a tourist stop now, they decided to lean into it.), 50, Black. He uses his background in chemistry to make amazing looking candies and chocolates, using that to deal with a time he used it in less pleasant ways when he was in the military. He never expected anybody outside of his small town, or maybe the folks at the county fair to make so much fuss over them. This might embarrass him, if he weren’t so delighted. A cheerful man with a dreamer’s heart, a magazine once referred to him as a small town Willy Wonka. He dotes on his wife, often making and gifting her small surprises. An amputee in honor of my Grandpa (missing left leg at the knee, possibly missing one arm as well, but I’m not sure how that would affect candy making.). Has certain parts of his past he just doesn’t talk about.

Mavis- Co-Owner of ____ with Ray, 48, Black. Fierce and kind in equal measures, Mavis believes in protecting what’s hers, and as far as she’s concerned the entire town of (oh my god, it needs a name) is included in that. Mavis is very selective about the battles she fights, but when she chooses one she throws herself in whole-heartedly. On several committees around town, she’d be on more, but then she wouldn’t have enough time to really get into the work of the ones she loves. She knits in her limited free time, often while listening to the news, but sometimes opera. Has started knitting stuffies in the shapes of the more unusual candies Ray makes, it’s silly, but fun, and tourists and the local kids love it. Still head over heels for Ray, even though his often dreaming about things for ages instead of just doing them is also still baffling to her.

Leanna - Juniper’s sort-of girlfriend, 15, Vietnamese. Quiet, a little cynical, but very empathetic. She avoids the news because it’s that or be mad and want to cry all the time-until she hears about something she can’t not research, and goes on a 24 hour google search and learns far more than is probably good for her about a species going extinct due to logging in prohibited areas, or genocide being covered up by claims of violent uprisings. She loves manga and comics. Leanna sometimes tries for a cottagecore* type aesthetic, but mostly thinks it's too much work. She’s starting to worry about what she’s going to do with her future, and people telling her that she’s only 15 and doesn’t have to worry about it yet is NOT HELPING.

*even though cottagecore isn’t a thing in the early-mid 2000s this is maybe/vaguely set in. Shh, let me have this. Anne of Green Gablesesque maybe?

Winnie - Leanna’s mom, 45, Vietnamese. Widow? A little ditzy, but a lot loving. Everyone in town is convinced she’s the stoner type of hippy, but no one minds as she’s someone who truly wants to know how you’re doing when she asks and strangely almost always has very spot on advice. She’s rarely on time anywhere, but that’s because she’ll have stopped to talk, and often to help, whoever she’s run into. Leanna and her bicker over this when she’s late picking her up. Always wears bright colors. Loves Agatha Christie books. Calls everyone, even people 50 years older than her, hon.

Logan - Juniper’s stepdad, 40, white. Kind of a jerk, but most of the jerky things he says are actually jokes that fall flat or have simply gotten old. Tries really hard, like *really* hard, but has a tendency to get annoyed if people don’t appreciate his efforts right away-more in his personal life than professional, possibly because of his profession. A contractor, hard worker, loyal, has worked for the same company since he was twenty even though they don’t often treat him right. Sometimes tries to buy people’s affections. Wants to have better communication with Juniper, but it’s gotten really hard the last few years and he’s never quite sure why.

Candice - Juniper’s Mom, 39, white, works at a nursery that sells seedlings and baby fruit trees, has a cheerful, calm personality, but a lot softer and more lowkey than Juniper’s version. Very house proud, but has a ‘maximalist’ approach to decorating-everything is in its place, but there are places for lots of things. Loves spending time outdoors, but would rather spend it tending her garden than hiking or riding, preferably with a cup of tea by her side. On the weekends, a fruity beer or wine instead. Wants to go on one of those train rides where you get to drink wine, eat canapes and try to solve a mystery, thinks Winnie might be a good candidate for someone to go with her.

Ura - a ‘barn rat’, 12 and a half, white(maybe a Czech immigrant? 2nd generation?) . A cheerful, rough and tumble boy who is always climbing things, and often being told to stop when he gets too high for other people's comfort. Ura is fearless when it comes to physical feats, but has a fear of ‘slimy’ things like worms and frogs. He has a thick layer of pudge and a big appetite, but is athletic and strong enough that anyone bullying him over it would be doing it at their own peril. Not that he’s the type to start fights, or even finish them most of the time. Doesn’t feel he quite fits in with his family, who are all more serious, reserved people. Redwood is his favorite of the horses, and Keith has all but given up on telling him that sitting on the floor of Red’s stall to talk to the horse isn’t exactly safe.

Elliot - Ray and Mavis’s son, Black, 19 and a college student-maybe/probably at U of I. Lives on campus, but comes home at least a couple weekends a month. Has an older car that he and Ray fixed up together, that is his pride and joy. Quiet, with an irreverent sense of humor that he unleashes somewhat at random. Interested in robotics, engines and mechanics and generally has some project he’s working on, a piece of which may or may not be in his pocket. Often has oil, grease, or ink on his hands, either from working on or designing a new project. A bit of an overachiever, he can spread himself thin trying to live up to all his responsibilities at once. He’s best friends with Randy, a friendship his parents want to disapprove of, because the few times Elliot’s gotten into trouble not only was Randy there, but 99% of the time whatever it was is Randy’s idea, but never quite manage too.

Randy - Handyman at the ranch, mixed race Hispanic and white, 21. Technically head handyman, because the old head retired six months ago, and is a little young/inexperienced for the job, but he’s not the type to back away from a challenge and has risen to the occasion beautifully. Loves rock and metal music, and spends a lot of his free weekends at concerts, the ones crammed into little venues and bars where people are practically on top of each other and the beat is so loud and solid it throbs through you, connecting you to everyone even before you hit the mosh pit, are his preference. He’s been working at the ranch since he was 16, and feels like he has a claim on it, not afraid to speak up if he thinks a decision Keith is making isn’t right or that he isn’t taking something important into consideration. Can be a bit wild when he’s not being the responsible one, definitely doesn’t always think before he acts.

Alma - Local artist/worker at R & M’s, Hispanic, 25. Alma is a painter and poet, a confident young woman who’s figured out that half of surviving as an artist is being your own agent/a salesperson as well, and in addition to several shelves at the R & M that hold postcard prints of many of her pieces, both the coffee shop and cafe have some of her larger paintings displayed, and she always has a booth at the Saturday market, though the majority of her sales come from her website. Alma is cheerful, and likes to tease, and growing up the middle child of four brothers, is very able to hold her own in verbal sparring. She’s close with her family, still living with her parents, and while at first her father was dismayed at her choice of career, he now hands out her business card to basically everyone he talks to.

Miriam - Nell’s Mom, white, 71, a little deaf, speaks loudly, partially because of the deafness, partially because she spent too long letting other people push her around and when she hit about 50 decided she was going to be the one talking over people now. She’s earned it. Age has made her more delicate than she likes, bruising and scraping easily, but she’s determined to do most things for herself. Those that are beyond her she has no problem loudly ordering someone else to take care of. Volunteers a lot, often fosters kittens for the local animal shelter. Used to chain smoke, quit when Nell was a teenager because she kept leaving pictures of diseased lungs everywhere. Still uses the candy ones as a substitute.

Places

Unnamed Town- Somewhere in Latah County, Idaho, where there is not already a town in the way. Around 200 years old and has grown and shrunk and grown again, and currently has a population of about 12,000. Having grown out from a traditional mainstreet, _______ no longer has the western style boardwalk seen in old pictures, but it does have a large cluster of local businesses and ‘hot spots’ still along that old main street, a coffee shop, a diner, a combination bookshop and independent library, a hardware store, a bar, a few places I haven’t thought of yet, and of course R & M General. There is a historical barn half a mile or so away from mainstreet that has been converted into a theater/meeting hall/dance hall, and a community center was added onto it in the early 90’s. During the summer there is a farmer’s market on the property every Saturday. The elementary school and junior high are all on one property, several miles out of town, because the majority of families live on farms, ranches or small rural properties rather than in one of the neighborhood clusters in the town itself. The junior high is 7th, 8th and 9th graders, in a newer two story building, and the elementary school is divided into lower and upper elementary with the bracket shaped building basically being cut in half, K-3 on one side and 4-6 on the other. The high school is outside of town on the other side by several miles, and actually serves kids from another town(s) as well. There is also a trailer park with about forty units, not exactly sure where it is yet, but Miriam(Nell’s Mom) lives there. There is also an animal shelter, a vet’s office, a cemetery, and a couple churches, and I’m sure more things to come.

R & M General (working title?)- Ray and Mavis’s store, a general store with a candy focused twist. A vintage Pepsi sign, neon still bright, and a charming green glass juke-box filled with hits from the 1940’s onward grace the front porch of the R & M, along with a long bench that locals are encouraged to use for a spell or to listen to a couple songs, provided they can behave themselves (teenagers arguing over who their favorite member of the rat pack is might be amusing, considering they were already ‘mom and dad’, or at least older brother and sister, music by the time Mavis and Ray were teenagers, but when they get loud it also gets annoying.). The store itself still has the original wooden counter up front and built-in shelves along the walls, but all refinished and polished to a high shine. A mixture of display types going down the middle of the store, barrels and baskets filled with skeins of colorful yarn and cloth or Mavis’s knitted stuffies(and during winter sometimes socks and mittens), other sewing and craft supplies, display racks with local arts, postcards and carvings, sometimes wind up toys made by Elliot, and of course many, many displays of candies and chocolates. They also have a lot of dry goods, and some of the simpler candy types have little instruction booklets and the ingredients it takes to try out making them yourself stocked in the same display, drink coolers, and sometimes have local produce available. Basically, they have a bit of everything, except for building equipment/home repair supplies, and that’s because of the hardware store across the street.

Pinehallow Ranch-A sprawling 100 acre ranch in Latah County, Idaho where the Waller family has been doing something or other with horses for four generations now. Originally it was a horse breeding ranch, but Keith and Irene’s grandfather felt the money was in training horses, and offered boarding as well, and Keith has continued to build that up, offering lessons for a variety of styles, ages, and skill levels. Butting up against BLM land that allows additional grazing and trail riding, the ranch has four pastures, a large corral, a medium sized indoor arena and two horse barns, one for boarded horses and one for the ranch's own stock, and an equipment barn, an old bunkhouse that is mostly used to store feed-though Randy has slept there when in between places, mostly unbeknownst to Keith-and some smaller equipment sheds, placed where they’re needed. The main house is an L-shaped ranch house with a porch that goes around the entire long front of the house with a large herb/kitchen and rock garden arranged around that. There are treed pockets scattered here and there, left alone as the rest of the ranch was developed, but the creek Monty and Juniper sometimes hang out at is on BLM land, as is most of the forested area around the ranch.

Pinehallow Taglist @sleepysera @enchanted-lightning-aes @odysseywritings @thegreatobsesso @writing-is-a-martial-art and @hiitsolivia If anyone else wants to be added just interact with the post :) (My more advanced tumblr knowledge has led me to believe this is better than asking people to reblog/comment to be added, but if I'm wrong just let me know.)

[bowditch]

how do you balance creating fan works with juggling your responsibilities? I've been struggling with finding the time/motivation to write what I want.

First, my creativity output tends to come and go in waves. Some weeks I’m writing 1-3k a day, some weeks I don’t even open documents at all. Some weeks are in-between, where I open stuff and poke around and do a few hundred words here and there, but not much more. The “off” times I’m usually reading, playing games, watching movies or shows, talking to friends, and thinking about stories or scenes. Sometimes, this isn’t even anything I’ll ever write! Sometimes, I don’t think about stories I’m writing at all. It’s more whatever pops into my head and less structured.  Part of me wants to be Disciplined and write every day, but the reality is that unless it’s a very tiny limit like 100-200 words, this really isn’t doable for me. I have kids I homeschool, I have a house and a husband and a dog and there are times in life when I need to deep clean a bunch of rooms, or plan out school stuff, or go on hikes, and I still have to have time to recharge. Writing sometimes is that recharging, but I can’t afford to force it when it isn’t. 

Because the reality is that to find that time, you have to give up something. There isn’t a version of the equation where “finding time” involves creating more time than you already have. The things I can afford to cut out to work on writing are the things I do in my own entertainment time-- I write instead of doing those things at all, or as much. So, I tend to write when it’s the thing I want to do, and enjoy doing, because otherwise it would be an emotional and mental drain I couldn’t afford. When I’m writing a lot in a day, it means I’m not really reading fic or novels, I’m not watching much TV, I spend way less time chatting online, I don’t really scroll tumblr as much, I’m not playing video games. The things I usually do in the bit of time in the afternoons or evenings when I have a chance to just do something I want to do, that’s what I give up to make room. (Sometimes, I give up sleep, but I don’t recommend doing this often. I can’t say I fully regret the times when I’m on a roll and stay up super late, but this really isn’t healthy or sustainable long-term because I’m not in a position to sleep in late-- if you can afford to sleep in late, that might be different.) Two caveats: This is a fact, but not always a conscious decision. Sometimes, I might actually think, “Okay, so I’m not going to have time to watch this tonight after all,” but that’s pretty rare. Usually, if I’m giving up stuff to write, it’s just the natural consequence of really wanting to write and enjoying it and focusing on it. The same as if I’d gotten sucked into a really good book and spent the evening/night reading-- I’m not consciously deciding “I will give up other entertainment options for this today,” as much as I’m just doing the thing I want to do. The second caveat is that I have ADHD! Wanting to write and getting started can be two different things because of my difficulty switching tasks or starting a task. The rule that tends to help me the most are on the days I want to write, or think I want to write, and have stuff I’ve been thinking about writing, but keep not getting started, I give myself ten minutes alone with an open document. A timer, ten minutes, the document, and nothing else. No app switching, no scrolling, no background chores. Those ten minutes of boredom don’t always kickstart writing, but they give me the chance to determine if writing is the thing I actually want to do that day. I get going and I’m on a roll and I ignore the timer when it goes off, or I poke around, maybe write a few words, and the timer beeps and I’m free to go do something else because it’s not a good writing day. 

I’m not always the best at balancing, to be honest. Sometimes, I give up sleep, or put off minor chores. Sometimes, I forget to eat. I do not recommend these, but I think it’s okay if you’re WORKING at balancing and sometimes realize you’ve made an error, as long as you scramble to catch up and give yourself some space to learn. Because my responsibilities are centered around tiny humans, I have a framework of school and meal times I can’t ignore; if your responsibilities are more “quiet” and easier to overlook (like homework, or self-care, or work from home) you might need to just teach yourself to not even open documents until you’ve done certain tasks. Jot down notes if you’re afraid you’ll lose something! But don’t buy into the myth that a “real writer” is completely controlled by impulse and whim. Will there be rare days when you ignore everything else to write for four hours? Maybe! But that shouldn’t be the goal, or the norm, because unless you have a household staff and responsibilities that cater to your whims, it’s really not realistic or healthy. 

The big things are to figure out how to be hard on yourself and how to be gentle with yourself. If you’re too tired, really want to watch a show, overwhelmed by work, just need to talk to a friend or chat server for an hour, it’s okay to just do those things and not feel guilty. Unless you are writing fulltime as your job, it is a hobby and you don’t “have” to achieve a certain level of productivity to be valid as a writer. The times to be hard on yourself are when you know you want to write, and are enjoying the actual process, but your brain isn’t trained to focus on it for stretches of time-- when you’re writing and think of something to tell a friend, wander about a random fact, want to check tumblr when you pause to think about a sentence, that’s when you sternly tell yourself “no, give it thirty seconds before you jump away from this task” and see if you end up getting unstuck with that little breath of boredom space. If you’re really disengaging, that’s okay, but your brain might just need to build the muscle of staying focused on the structure of creative output. It’s a muscle! You might WANT to do fifty pushups, but if you haven’t made your body stick out five for a while, and then ten, and built up, it’s probably not going to cooperate and you’ll feel miserable and broken and useless if you just try to get to fifty the first time. But...building to fifty requires not getting distracted and wandering away when you’ve only done 2 of 5 the week you’re working on sets of five.  My only other recommendation if you haven’t done a lot of writing before is to not fall into the editing trap. Unless you just REALLY LOVE EDITING and it engages and charges you to write more, don’t get stuck in the loop of opening a document or a notebook to write and spending all your time editing the few paragraphs you already have. A lot of the first draft stuff will probably suck. That’s okay. Just finish the thing. You know the cake analogy in fandom? “Write that hurt/comfort, it’s just more cake!”? Getting stuck editing the first bit of a story over and over until it’s polished is sort of like looking at a bowl of three ingredients of a cake recipe and going “This doesn’t look much like cake, maybe if I add more flour...” until you have a bowl full of something that really isn’t cake and isn’t anything closer to cake, no matter how pretty you’ve made those three ingredients look in the bowl. Maybe it’s a very lovely color and has pretty sprinkles on it! Still not a cake. You’ve wasted your limited time, and worn yourself out, and you know you still don’t really have anything closer to a cake to pull out of the oven and show off. The time to edit is when the cake is done and cooling, and you’re making icing and picking out trimmings and cutting up fruit and shaving chocolate or whatever.  And then the next cake will probably be better because you practiced doing the whole thing and have a better idea of what to do and not do the next time. Then, opening a document or grabbing a pen and notebook can be a new, engaging chance to create instead of “oh it’s this same stale bowl of aesthetic half-batter.” (Again, if you find editing as you go super recharging, ignore this-- some people are just very good at tweaking batter as they go without stalling completely-- just give yourself the time to figure that out.)  I hope this helps! Feel free to send follow-up questions or clarifications if I misunderstood something or you want a differently structured answer or just MORE INFORMATIONS.

[rigelmejo]

I’ve talked about listening reading method before. And i’m bringing it up again lol! for 2 reasons - first, i found a very nice practical article on it today (skip to the LAST section to just click this ToT), and second because i’m finally in the Mood to l-r Guardian again so i’m gonna see how many chapters i can do today.

A quick summary - what is the listening reading method?

It’s primary goal: acquire vocabulary and grammar over time, also improve listening comprehension. 

You may also improve reading comprehension to an extent, but not necessarily - reading comprehension is highly dependent on how much you read the text in your target language (like if you have a parallel text and look at the target language often), if you do step 2 AGAIN after step 3, etc. Since using the text IN the target language is optional, your reading comprehension improvement is also optional.

*I personally think the activities that help reading comprehension most (that are adjacent to the activities in l-r method) are: doing step 2 AFTER step 3, or simply reading the target language text after either step 1 or step 3 (so reading the target language text after you’ve just seen the english text and have context). I often read a translation, then go and read the chinese version a few hours after, and my ability to pick up new words/follow along is MUCH easier than if i’d just read the chinese with no context. It should be noted either of these activities can be done on their own, so again its more ‘listening reading method’ adjacent rather than actually part of the method. The method is primarily listening comprehension.

What you do:

3 steps, and all of them are optional except for step 3. I do however recommend steps 1 and 2 if you have never read the novel you use before. Or if you’re new to studying the language and aren’t used to the sound of it/word boundaries yet. You will need: a novel translated into a language you understand, that same novel in your target language, audiobook in the target language. The novel can be a parallel text if you’re lucky enough to find a combined text.  

Notes: you will have a much easier time if the audiobook MATCHES the text! Especially matches the paragraphs (no paragraphs omitted in the audiobook) and ends chapters in the same places the text ends chapters. LOTS of cnovels have audiobooks which will omit paragraphs, or end audio ‘chapters’ in random places... this requires you to focus a lot harder on keeping the audio and text aligned. Its still useable, but you will feel way less exhausted if you can just find audio that reasonably matches the text (at LEAST that matches each paragraph without cutting anything... you can mark when it ends yourself if the chapter ends aren’t the same, but suddenly missing paragraphs sucks).

Step 1: (optional) read the novel in a language you understand (for me that’s english). This step is so you have context/familiarity. If you use a novel you already know/love, skip this. This can be skipped period, but if its a new novel to you then you may find step 3 more difficult.

Step 2: (optional) listen to the target language audio while following along with the target language text. Your goal is primarily to get familiar with the sounds of the language, and word boundaries. Once you are comfortable with following along to this speed of speaking, and recognizing word and phrase boundaries, you can stop doing this step. At this step learning new words is not necessary - although if you’re an intermediate learner you MAY pick up some new words and if that happens feel free to KEEP doing this step as long as its helpful. (Alternatively - you can continue doing this step, put it after step 3 at that point, and use it to match words you recently learned the SOUND of in step 3 and then match them to the spelling/hanzi/kana etc with the help of the target language text).

 Step 3: (mandatory) listen to the target language audio while following along with the translation in a language you fully understand. So basically, listening to the novel target language audiobook with a translated transcript. It is important at this step to focus ON the audio. You are attempting to comprehend the audio. You look at the english (or whatever language you comprehend) text to KEEP your place in the audio. You look at the text to lookup any unknown words/phrases etc that you hear. You are not reading the english text with the audio in the background. You need to pay attention TO the audio. You are using the english text to fill in the gaps of your understanding - to look up meanings in real time, and hopefully hear new words+see their meanings constantly enough that you start picking up new words. Your english text is to ensure you can look up any part of a sentence you don’t understand, that you can follow along with the meaning of the audiobook as you listen. Over time, you will pick up more and more. 

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You can continue to do this for hundreds of hours. Get through a novel completely - you may wish to do the same novel again 2-3 times, until there’s no more that you are picking up from it. Or you might chose to move onto another novel. There’s no major drawback i can see to jumping between novels either - if you’d like to just do segments of multiple. However, since authors usually use their own preferred vocabulary, you will most likely have MORE vocabulary/phrase repetition if you stick with one author for a few dozen hours - and the repetition will help you really learn it. With basic vocabulary, any text will likely give you enough repetition to learn them. But if you want to learn genre specific words, or author specific words, or just words used less often... sticking to one novel for a WHILE will likely give you more repetition to pick them up. (Just like intensively or extensively reading ONE novel all the way through will help you pick up a lot more author specific words, versus reading only a few chapters before moving onto a new author).

Once you can listen to the audiobook without the text, and understand it and follow along well, you may want to move onto another novel. If you want to test yourself - pick another novel of the same difficulty or slightly easier, listen to that audiobook on its own, and if you can understand it fine without any text to look up the unknown parts, then you’ve reached a ‘natural listening’ stage. The creator of this method says this usually took them a few novels before they’d get to this point. I haven’t lol so i’ll let you know if i do. I’m still at the ‘can do step 3 basically as long as it keeps benefiting me.’ 

So at the minimum, the process is - be familiar with the text already (step 1 if you need it), be familiar with the sounds of the language/listening to it spoken (step 2 if you need it), then listen to the target language audiobook while following along with a translation in a language you fully understand. Focusing on the audio and attempting to understand as much as possible, using the text as reference to help you. As you follow along, you can use that translation to learn new words/phrases, get an understanding of the grammar you hear, and continue picking things up until eventually you can understand the audiobook on its own. 

*It should be noted, the original creator of this method would do L-R for 6-10 hours a day, and would do a novel for 50-100 hours. They would intensively study. They aimed to use longer novels as that gave them more study material/study hours (if you’re learning chinese we have ample long novels to pick). So expect noticeable progress in 20 hours, 50 hours, etc. Not in 2. Study in general is like this anyway - we don’t see noticeable language learning progress doing anything in like 2 hours pretty much. But its just something to keep in mind - even if you do L-R a novel intensively and finish one within a couple weeks or a month, you should still expect that it will take a lot of hours. Look at how long the audiobook is, and then know if you do step 1 and 2 it will take 2 or 3 times as long as that audiobook is. 

Guardian is 106 chapters (before the extras), with roughly 20 minute audio files per chapter of audiobook - so it will take 2120 minutes, or 35.33 hours to do step 3 (assuming I don’t lose my spot in the text). Step 2 will also take 35.33 hours in a best case scenario. Step 1 will probably take me 17 hours on a BEST case scenario if I read at my fastest, which I might not. So to finish L-R Guardian it will take me 87.66 hours... or 52.33 hours if i just completely skip step 2 (since i already can hear word boundaries/have some basic listening comprehension). So... Listening Reading method is time consuming. A benefit might be - you get to do study hours spent reading/experiencing a cool audiobook, and getting to engage with the original novel and translation. If you were going to do that in your free time in some way anyway, then using it to study can be fun. And unlike trying to get 50 hours of another study method in, if you are a serious reader/you can keep your attention focused? You could probably get these 50 hours done within couple weeks or a month - just like how when you get interested in a novel you can read it in a few days/weeks. Which is definitely a sweet thing if you can get focused on L-R that much... definitely more hours spent studying per month compared to when i intensively read (i spend maybe 12 hours intensively reading a month when i’m reading a lot).

The person who initially did Listening Reading Method would do 100-200 hours, would go through novels 2-3 times then move onto another, and would do it intensively in the span of weeks and a few months. They made very fast improvements - but hours spent wise, it makes a lot of sense. Its a ‘fast’ way to learn a lot, in the sense you can do it intensively in a short period of days/weeks. But the hours spent is still gonna be a LOT. 

And you can also... just be lazy. I’m lazy. ToT You can also just do L-R as desired. I maybe do it once or twice a week. Or maybe 4 chapters every couple weeks lol. I certainly don’t do it intensively over a consistent period. (That said, i think you will probably pick up more things, more Quickly, if you study daily with this method using the same novel - since repetition helps you remember things and pick them up). I’ve done maybe 12 hours of listening reading overall, using a few different novels (so no significant chunk of any of them). I already noticed immediate benefit from doing it. If you’re a mid-beginner+, and already know words through reading? Simply doing the L-R activity helps with listening comprehension skills immediately. While I pick up new words/phrases, its definitely the slower thing I notice. The quickest thing I notice improvement in, is how much BETTER I know all the words I ‘kind of’ knew before from reading alone. Now I have much better instant listening recognition of words, have much better instinctive idea of how ‘phrases’ should sound in listening when people actually speak - the way they flow, how to immediately recognize them. That’s improved my overall listening comprehension to audiobooks, shows, people speaking. Also its improved my reading comprehension - I can now zoom through reading phrases because I recognize them as full chunks, I can now zoom ‘internally sound out what i’m reading’ faster and that causes me to stumble less when I’m reading to myself. All these benefits i noticed as early as like 6 hours into L-R. I also do notice myself picking up a few new words, but I imagine that will happen more once I am done ‘fully’ picking up words I already half knew. I also, again, think if I L-R more regularly, I would notice myself picking up completely new things at a faster rate (because they’d quickly also become ‘partly learned from that initial exposure’ then reinforced over and over). Anyway my point is - if you already have SOME comprehension of the language you’re studying, L-R can within a short amount of time help you improve your listening comprehension of things you already ‘know’ or ‘partly know.’ While picking up new stuff will also happen, I do think that will take longer (and I think beginners are most likely to notice rapid ‘completely new stuff’ pick up since they don’t have material ‘half learned’ bouncing around like I do lol).

This is the original Listening Reading Method article which is long and so, I understand if you just skim it lol: http://users.bestweb.net/~siom/martian_mountain/!%20L-R%20the%20most%20important%20passages.htm

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Like I said, you can do a lot of variations on it lol. Doing step 2 alone and TRYING to learn word meanings could be very useful if you’re already an intermediate learner and just need to learn Spellings of words you know by sound, or you can understand the meaning of words in context (so you don’t need another language translation to know the meaning of a word). Doing step 2 After step 3 i think is pretty beneficial if you WANT to also work on reading comprehension for the new words/things you learn. (Or just reading the text in the target language, after doing step 3 since you will have the context/meaning fresh in your mind).

---

Finally, this is the article I read on using the Listening Reading Method for languages very unfamiliar to you. I find a lot of its explanations very to the point and clear: http://users.bestweb.net/~siom/martian_mountain/!L-R/lr_for_grasshoppers.html

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 6

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This chapter offers some additional insight into Nesta’s thought process and sheds a little light on the ongoing process her emotional development has become. I hope it comes through!

This is somewhat of a “building” chapter so that we can get Nessian to the crest, so to speak. Part 7 is already written and only needs some editing, so it’s possible that I’ll be doing a double update today ☺️ They certainly have a lot to discuss, and once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. 😂 Anyway, enough of me. Enjoy!

Links to the previous parts:

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||

Warnings for grief related to the loss of a parent and some strong language.

——————————————————————————

Around 11:00 PM, Nesta decided she couldn’t be alone with her thoughts anymore. She was ruminating on similar memories and effectively raking herself over the coals. Although she knew any one of her friends would be there for her no matter the time of day, she picked up her phone to call the one she knew would most likely be awake at this hour.

“Hello?” Azriel’s raspy voice came through the phone.

“Were you asleep?! Since when do you go to bed early?” Her surprise was obvious by her tone. What the hell? He’s never in bed before midnight.

“Nes. Always a pleasure.” Azriel breathed a chuckle into the phone. “I usually wouldn’t be. I’m.. umm.. at a friend’s house tonight.”

Nesta gasped and dropped her voice. “Oh my gods. Az, were you on a date?! Am I interrupting?” She clapped her free hand over her forehead. “I’m the worst. I’m sorry.”

Another chuckle from Azriel. “You don’t have to whisper, you know. She can’t hear you. You’re not interrupting anything. I was asleep when you called, but I’m out on the couch now. What’s up?”

”If you were asleep, then that counts as interrupting! Are you sure?”

”Yes. Just, maybe the short version?” His tone was tentative, almost as if he felt guilty asking her to keep it concise at 11 PM. No one truly deserved Azriel as their friend.

“I can do that. So, here it is. I’ll save you the long, tedious trip through my brain.” She paused for half a second to take a breath. “I’m in love with Cassian.” She let out a quiet groan for effect.

”Mhmm...” The lilting of his voice implied that he was waiting for something like the punchline of a joke; the unknown part of her statement.

Her breath caught. “I kind of expected more of a reaction.”

”Did you? I thought there was more to it.” He seemed entirely neutral in that grating way of his.

”How did you know?!” She asked, incredulously.

”You told me.”

“Mm.. I don’t think so. When?” Now she was actually confused. Did she make some kind of drunken confession at Rita’s? She would remember having this revelation before now.

“At brunch. When we were driving home.”

”What are you talking about?!” Her voice was definitely higher pitched than it had been previously. She was anxious to hear his response, thinking he had surely dreamed this.

”Nesta. We were in my car, backing out of the parking lot. You asked me, ‘Why couldn’t we be the ones to fall in love?’ Or something along those lines. I thought that you were using some cryptic way of telling me because it implied two parties. Why do you think I hit the brakes so hard?” He seemed impatient, as if he was telling her the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought maybe the question weirded you out! I didn’t even realize what I said, to be honest. How the actual fuck do you notice tiny things like that?” She didn’t wait on his response. He would know it was rhetorical. “Now my problem is this: I think he’s dating someone, so I’ve lost my chance.” She briefly told him what she had overheard the night of Elain’s birthday, her voice starting to crack toward the end.

”Hm. He hasn’t said anything to me about that, but I could see why he would wait being that you and I are close. But honestly, I don’t know that you could ever lose your chance with Cassian, Nes.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. She simply sat there, playing with the corner of her throw blanket and hoping he would continue. He seemed to sense her discomfort and started talking again.

“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t talk to him. But, if I can offer my opinion, maybe wait a little while so that you know you’re absolutely sure this is what you want. I don’t know how he would handle it if you decided it’s not what you want.”

She felt herself prickle with defensiveness. “I wouldn’t do that to him, Az. Of course I’m sure. It only took me an eternity to figure this shit out.”

Azriel responded in a soothing tone he so often used with her. “I know. But remember, you’re not the one he talks to about you. I’m just looking out for my brother. Maybe let it marinate, yeah?”

She knew his intentions were pure, and she couldn’t really blame him for being protective. Before she could respond, she heard a feminine voice in the background ask: “Az, everything okay?”

She heard him pull the phone away from his face to answer. “Oh, yeah. All good. It’s Nesta.”

Delayed by her scattered brain and the copious amount of wine, the identity of the voice finally hit her full force.

”IS THAT ELAIN?!” She sat up straighter as if it would allow her to hear them more readily.

She heard Azriel laugh, followed by a shuffling on the other end.

“Hello? Nesta? Everything okay?” Nesta could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

“Hey, El. Everything’s fine! Sorry to crash your date. It seems we have quite a bit to talk about. Very soon.”

It took Elain a couple of seconds to respond, and Nesta could hear the smile in her voice. “Yeah. I think we do. Someone told me I should just talk to him. Turns out that they were right.” She paused, waiting for an “I told you so” from Nesta. She didn’t have the energy. “You know you can talk to me about Cassian, too, right?”

Nesta shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve been leaning on Az since our fight, and I honestly haven’t had the energy to bring it up beyond that. But I do want to talk to you. And Feyre. It’s just been...hard.”

“I can imagine. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. It’s like the end of an era or something. Just know that we’re here.” Her voice was soft, laced with worry and a desire to help her older sister.

”Maybe for now,” Nesta teased, “but you may not have much time to chat these days.”

She knew she was blatantly deflecting, but El’s words had caused tears to prick her eyes yet again. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. She realized how true it was, and what upset her the most was that she knew she didn’t want to know a time without Cassian.

The call wrapped up with more gentle teasing between the sisters, and eventually, embarrassing Azriel a bit over speakerphone. She told them she loved them and promised to keep them updated on how she was feeling. Her heart felt lighter once she finally ended the call, thanks to the laughter they managed to pull from her.

——————————————————————————

Christine Archeron’s death anniversary fell on a Tuesday that year, and Nesta awoke with a similar irritation as last year— death anniversaries should never fall on weekdays. She went through the familiar motions as any other morning, headed to work, and concentrated on her various tasks she was expected to juggle at any given time. As appearances went, it looked like any other ordinary day to those around her, so the extra heaviness remained hers alone to carry.

On her lunch break, she got a chance to pull her phone to check her messages and mindlessly scroll through social media. She had been focused on scrolling for so long that her phone took her by surprise when it vibrated in her hand. She tapped the notification by reflex and found herself studying the sender’s name as if it was some sort of mistake.

Cassian: Thinking about you today. I know it’s a rough one. Keep your head up. Christine would have it no other way ❤️

Nesta read the text several times in a row; just to make sure it was real. It had been so long since he’d contacted her intentionally, and it made her happy that he still thought to reach out today. It simultaneously made her a little sad; however, because it was yet another reminder of what she’d lost in him. That was an issue to deal with later.

Nesta: Of course you are, because you’re the perfect human, and I don’t deserve you. Thanks, Cass 💕 Means the world to me to hear from you. Mom really loved you, and I know she would appreciate you looking out for us.

She hesitated over the send button for several seconds before deciding to go through with it. It felt so weird to intentionally script any type of message to him being that they had spent most of their relationship entirely uncensored. Everything about it felt wrong— she couldn’t act natural with him because it wasn’t appropriate anymore, yet she didn’t feel right having to draft and redraft their communication. It was all so fucked, and she was tired of this odd limbo they stayed in.

She reflected on her conversation with Azriel and Elain on the night she had unintentionally crashed their date. She knew that they both held strong points about her situation and wouldn’t advise her to try to repair things if they knew it was a lost cause. She acknowledged that Azriel, specifically, knew more than he was at liberty to tell her. That being the case, she decided that was evidence in favor of hashing things out with Cassian. It wasn’t long before she was lost in her own thoughts, her food entirely forgotten.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to ensure I didn’t need anyone. I never wanted to depend heavily on another person in a way that I couldn’t manage on my own. But that’s not really the case anyway, right? I’ve managed fine these few weeks, but that’s the thing. I’ve managed. Why do I try to insist that’s enough for me?

But what if the door is closed? What if this was Cassian’s final push, and he’s gone? I don’t know Alis, and she could be wonderful. She probably appreciates the shit out of him and saw immediately that he’s not the average person. She probably knows how special he is. She probably beams anytime he enters a room and tries to take care of his heart in any way she can. She’s probably fucking delightful.

But does that really compete with history? I guess if that history is filled with turmoil, it could. She’ll never know the Cassian that was a freshman in high school— braces and curly hair, still a head taller than most of the other boys in class. She won’t remember how he hit his second growth spurt the summer after sophomore year, where he started to fill out and caught the attention of any girl with a pulse. She doesn’t know what it’s like when he’s truly angry with his dad and the world. She doesn’t know the full range of his eclectic music tastes or the guilty pleasures he sings depending on his mood. She didn’t do the leg work to reconcile the tough, intimidating exterior when he gets upset with the gentle soul beneath. There’s no way she knows when his humor and his laughter are distractions from his pain rather than when they’re genuine. She can’t love him like I do. Im-fucking-possible.

She was pulled abruptly out of her head, and incredible jealousy, by her alarm. It was time to go back to work and finish out the day, and she hoped it passed as quickly as possible. She silently chastised herself for piling this emotional time bomb on today of all days as she threw away her lunch and walked out of the break room.

So much for leaving this issue for later.

She resolved to put all of these thoughts back into their little box until she had the emotional energy to open the lid once again. Whenever the hell that would be.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the day zoomed by at a blissful pace, thank the gods. In fact, when Nesta glanced at the clock, she realized it was several minutes after 5:00 PM. She clocked out, grabbed her things, and climbed into her car. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to make the drive out to the cemetery. She wasn’t sure what time Elain had been able to go by, but Nesta had agreed to meet Feyre at 5:30 to pay their respects. It was becoming a standing tradition, where they would make their short visit whenever they could during the day and follow with dinner together as a family.

She made it with a few minutes to spare, so she took that time to sit with her mom one-on-one. She gave her a brief update on her life, told her how much she loved and missed her, and gently brushed any leaves or grass clippings off of her headstone. There were fresh flowers in her vase, something she noted each year on her death anniversary. Any other time of year, they kept seasonally appropriate faux flowers to make sure her site was properly decorated. She made a mental note to offer to contribute to the fresh arrangement in the years following when she saw her family at dinner. They were always taken care of before she made it out to the cemetery, and she didn’t want to risk forgetting for the next year. She leaned into the arrangement, taking in the various floral scents emanating from the blooms in the bouquet. There was a myriad of vivid colors, wildflowers throughout, and Nesta loved how true to her mother’s spirit they were.

She turned when she heard car doors and saw Feyre approaching with Rhysand. She stood, extending an arm out to her baby sister, who accepted it readily and rested her head on her shoulder. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Rhysand stood nearby, resting his hand on Feyre’s opposite shoulder. They stood together for several minutes until Nesta excused herself to allow Feyre some time alone with their mom as well.

She drove to her father’s house where she found Elain already setting the table for dinner. They worked together quietly, making sure they had plenty of place settings for everyone. Azriel offered his help to carry various dishes of food to the dining table and took his seat next to Elain once it was all settled. Almost as if on cue, Feyre and Rhysand walked into the house and took their seats as well. The dinner started off quiet considering the somber mood, but Feyre was the first to break the tension when she started to tell stories from their childhood. In a matter of moments, their home was filled with animated story telling and loud bouts of laughter, and Nesta couldn’t think of a better way to honor her mom’s love of life.

As everyone finished up, she suddenly remembered her mental note from earlier. She waited for a natural lull in conversation, then commented softly, “Mom’s flowers were beautiful, you guys. You did an amazing job.”

”They were really perfect. They couldn’t have been more ‘Christine’ if you tried,” Feyre remarked.

“Elain, Dad. I’m not sure which of you took care of them this year, but would you let me take care of next time? I haven’t contributed since she passed, and I’d really like to.”

Mr. Archeron softly shook his head back and forth, communicating to Nesta that it hadn’t been him. Nesta adjusted her gaze to Elain who looked just as confused.

“Oh. Nes, I assumed it was one of you. I didn’t... I didn’t order them. I wished I had.” She looked down at her hands, and Azriel placed a supportive arm across the back of her chair.

“Okay... so who did?” She glanced around the table from person to person, but no one took any credit. It was Rhys who spoke up first, clearing his throat to master his voice.

“You don’t know?”

”Obviously.” She looked to Feyre for support. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Feyre said nothing, watching Rhysand talk with rapt attention.

When he spoke again, it was cautious, as if his words may startle her. “Nesta. The flowers are from Cassian. He’s done them every year since Mrs. Christine died.”

She was suddenly short of breath. Everyone’s attention snapped to Rhys, including her father’s. Her sisters and Azriel were looking at Rhysand with stunned expressions, their eyes flicking to her face occasionally.

“What? How could you know— why would you know, when we don’t? What the fuck is going on?” She was falling over her own words, struggling to form any cohesive thought.

”I’m so sorry,” Rhysand glanced around the room for the first time, realizing he had everyone’s attention. “The only reason I knew was because he asked me to make sure they made it from the flower shop to her gravesite the year he had knee surgery. He asked me to keep it to myself then, but I figured by now he would have said something to at least one other person.” He looked down into his plate, various emotions playing over his handsome face. Feyre leaned over to comfort him, knowing he was likely embarrassed to be the reason the air had changed so dramatically.

Nesta’s head was swimming, emotions roiling from a million different directions. She knew anger was cheap and unfair, but she pulled on that tether as hard as she could to make sure she could navigate everything she was processing. She was on her feet suddenly, pushing her chair away from the table and walking toward her keys.

“I have to go.” She couldn’t be in here anymore. The room was too small, the walls were too close. Too many people. She picked up the pace, flinging the door open and shutting it hard behind her. She was down the porch steps when she heard the door open again. Azriel’s voice followed her.

”Nesta. Where are you going? Nesta, stop!” He had jogged lightly to catch up with her, and he tugged her gently by the wrist to stop her. She spun on him quickly, eyes flaring and brimming with tears.

“Anywhere but here! What the fuck was that, Az?”

He said nothing; looked down at his own feet as he shook his head.

“Cassian has some fucking nerve, you know that? Why is he insisting upon himself?” Her voice was lowered and had taken on an almost eerie quality; the calm before the proverbial storm.

“Nes, I don’t think he meant to upset you. It sounds like it’s something he’s made somewhat of a tradition. Maybe he just wanted to be sure and see it through.”

”He doesn’t get to do that anymore, Azriel. He doesn’t get to butt-dial me while he makes date plans with some girl, then turn around and send flowers to my dead mother. What am I supposed to think about that? And how would that make his girlfriend feel?” Azriel pulled her into a hug at that, resting his chin on top of her head. He didn’t answer her. There was nothing to say.

She pulled away from him, gripping her keys, and walked toward her car. “I’m out. Tell them I love them, and I’ll call tomorrow.” She nodded her chin toward the house, climbed into her car, and backed out of the driveway.

——————————————————————————

She wasn’t sure how long she’d driven before she found herself in his driveway. She knew it hadn’t been very long considering the sun was still clinging to the end of the day. She honestly didn’t remember making the conscious decision to come here, likely fueled by anger and muscle memory more than anything else. She was still so frustrated at her situation, her emotions spilling over and refusing to be put into that stupid fucking box anymore. The worst part was that, as mad as she was with him, she so badly wanted to see him. She wished the circumstances were less complicated so that she could knock, ask for a hug and some tea, and lay on his couch. They were a hell of a long way from those people now.

She loosed a breath, puffing her cheeks with air and exhaling slowly. Just before she peeled her head from the headrest to get out, his front door opened. He opened it most of the way, then leaned against the door jamb on his shoulder. He had his hands in the pockets of his sweats and one of his ankles crossed casually over the other. For a moment, she only looked at him, unable to move or offer any type of acknowledgement. She took in the charcoal henley he was wearing, unbuttoned save for the very last one. The small flap of the opening leaned to the side, revealing the base of his neck and the beginning of his tattoos. He looked so very Cassian, casual and laid-back, that she struggled to keep her emotions level at the mere sight of him. His hair was down, looking like he had just run his fingers through it with its deep part and how it fell haphazardly around his face. He was wearing his reading glasses, she noticed, the thick frames highlighting the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the wide set of his jaw. He gave her a soft smile, and cocked his head to the side and back in invitation. She could almost hear him gently telling her to “get in here”.

Too late to turn back now.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Alrighty, hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, even with minimal Nessian. The next chapter(s) will more than make up for it, though! I’m hoping to have max Nessian to y’all ASAP. A million thanks to all of you who continue to follow this au. Your comments/ feedback have meant the world to me!

If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to comment, reblog, or send a message! I’d be happy to add you to the list. If I’ve accidentally left you off or there are issues with your tag, let me know, and I’ll look into it! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome (even encouraged)!

Tags:

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes // @charincharge // @superspiritfestival // @awesomelena555 // @sleeping-and-books // @hizqueen4life // @maastrash // @bookstantrash // @rhyswhitethorn // @grace-k-sterling // @sayosdreams // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @ladywitchling // @b00kworm // @courtofjurdan

[mhalachai]

advance snippet: Updating Wednesdays on Patreon (The Untamed)

So. Do I need to write an Untamed modern!AU with a college twist (Lan Xichen is a music professor in Canada) in which Wei Wuxian attempts to self-therapy himself by creating a graphic novel fantasy AU version of his life (aka the real story of Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) and Lan Xichen attempts to rebuild his life after a toxic relationship ended? I mean probably not but has that ever stopped me?  here’s the intro snippet we’ll see how things go.

(Title is tentatively Updating Wednesdays on Patreon because i don’t know what to call this thing)

~~

The first day of August finds Lan Xichen in a coffee shop, tinkering with the syllabus for his new music theory course, when his phone pings with a message.

> Lan Wangji: Brother.

> Lan Wangji: Wei Ying has asked me to inform you that he will be publishing the first collection of pages in his new graphic novel on Patreon this afternoon.

Lan Xichen smiles at Lan Wangji's tone. For all that his little brother is more verbose in electronic communication than verbal, he's always so exact.

> To Lan Wangji: Can't wait! What's it about?

The little cursor blinks for a while as Lan Wangji continues to type. Lan Xichen just hopes that his brother-in-law's creative enthusiasm isn't running up against Lan Wangji's sensibilities.

Finally, a reply appears.

> Lan Wangji: Wei Ying wants me to tell you that it is completely fictional.

This gives Lan Xichen pause. Why on earth would Wei Wuxian, or Lan Wangji himself for that matter, need to make that declaration?

> Lan Wangji: It is a high fantasy xianxia story.

Before Lan Xichen can ask why that is causing this odd message exchange, another notification pops up on his phone.

> Wei Wuxian: Lan Xichen! Lan Zhan types so slow! It's just a different art style I wanted to try out and it snowballed from there!

> Wei Wuxian: I know you follow me on Patreon so you're going to get the notification this afternoon so I wanted to warn you hahaha

> Wei Wuxian: All names and places are purely fictional. I don't really have a sword.

Another message arrives, with all the information Lan Xichen needs.

> Lan Wangji: This matters a great deal with Wei Ying.

Lan Xichen smiles at his brother's words. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian have been together since their junior year of high school, through a great deal of personal difficulties on both sides, and are still as fiercely protective of each other as ever. He loves them both for it.

> To Lan Wangji: Thank you for the information. I'm sure it will be great.

> To Wei Wuxian: Can't wait to see it! Anything you do is always great.

No more messages arrive, so Lan Xichen goes back to considering how to change the quiz structure of his musical theory class to avoid a marking crisis with the evaluation of his ensemble class.

Finally, as Lan Wangji gathers up his papers to leave, one last message comes in on his phone.

> Lan Wangji: Thank you for your support. We all appreciate it.

Attached to the message is a photo taken of Lan Wangji's family, he and Wei Wuxian holding Lan Yuan between them. The toddler grins at the camera, his arms around Wei Wuxian's neck. Wei Wuxian's looks at the camera, dark circles under his eyes like he's working through the night again, while Lan Wangji only has eyes for his husband.

It's so wholesome and loving that a sliver of pain rakes through Lan Xichen's heart. He's happy for his brother. His brother deserves the world. Lan Wangji deserves being loved, and to love.

Not everyone gets that. Sometimes, that falls apart.

Sometimes, for some people, love is just an illusion.

Lan Xichen tucks his phone away and leaves the coffee shop.

~~

He gets home mid-afternoon, and spends a while stowing away the groceries he picked up on his walk. The neighbourhood has several Greek and Persian markets and he's able to buy most of what he needs on foot, saving the Chinese markets in Richmond for his weekly dim sum brunches with Lan Wangji's family when he can borrow the use of Lan Wangji's sensible and economical mini-van.

He doesn't drive any more, not since—

Lan Xichen stops and puts down the bag of avocados. His mind is a funny place, bringing up the oddest things at the most inconvenient of times.

He doesn't drive anymore. He doesn't need to, using the bus and the odd taxi to transport his instruments up to the university for performances. The public transit system is so much better.

Safer.

He goes back to putting away the vegetables, pulls out a cookbook (new, spine uncreased, bought for him by Lan Qiren for his birthday) and opens it at random. He's never had coconut curry salmon before, but he has all the ingredients.

Trying new things. He's supposed to be trying new things.

The recipes says it will only take half an hour to make, so he goes up to his office and turns on his computer to check his work email. The message fly fast and furious, some about the new department head, some about class enrollment, a few from students asking if they can get onto his waitlist. He replies to the most urgent, files the rest, then checks his personal email.

The notification from Wei Wuxian's Patreon is up, so Lan Xichen clicks it.

Then he sits back, frankly impressed. He's seen Wei Wuxian's comic style progress since the boy was drawing silly cartoons to entertain Lan Wangji in history class, but even he wasn't prepared for this.

The art is gorgeous. Stylized figures, intricate period costuming, rich backgrounds – it's truly a work of art.

Then he gets a better look the two characters' faces, and laughs out loud. It's Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, clear as day, with long hair and flowing robes. Wei Wuxian's even managed to capture that exasperated-yet-fond look Lan Wangji has whenever Wei Wuxian is being particularly loud.

The introduction is even better. "Join our hero Lan Wangji and dashing rogue Wei Wuxian as they battle deadly monsters and forge a path with demonic cultivation!"

Wei Wuxian hasn't even changed their names. True, he uses his mother's surname professionally, so Cangse Ying can't be easily tracked back, but still.

Lan Xichen wonders for a moment if Lan Wangji is okay with this, but then he notices that the project text is available in both English and in Chinese, with the Chinese written in Lan Wangji's style.

They worked on this together, then.

Trying not to think about why that makes his chest feel funny, Lan Xichen opens to the first page--

-- Which features a bruised and bloodied Wei Wuxian falling off a cliff while a horrified Lan Wangji screams after him.

Confused, Lan Xichen makes sure he hasn't accidentally read the last page first. No, this is the first. Still a little baffled, he clicks to the next page, sees the stylized banner that reads six years ago and relaxes. This is Wei Wuxian's style of using flashbacks to interrupt the narrative flow. Lan Xichen spent most of Lan Wangji's university years hearing his brother's despair for Wei Wuxian's artistic choices in essay form.

But enough about the past. Lan Xichen settles in to read the first chapter of the story, where Wei Wuxian and his siblings (Jiang Yanli drawn lovingly, Jiang Cheng with a bigger frown and more menacing eyebrows than Lan Xichen remembers) traveled to the Cloud Recesses (the sarcastic nickname Wei Wuxian gave to Lan Qiren's West Vancouver mansion) for cultivator lectures. Lan Xichen is there on the page, too, drawn taller and far more imposing than he is in real life.

The first encounter between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji is fantastical and improbable and, according to Lan Xichen's recollection, almost completely accurate. Wei Wuxian had mouthed off at Lan Wangji at the weekend orientation camp for their new arts high school, Lan Wangji glared the boy into submission, then later that night when Wei Wuxian tried to sneak back onto school grounds with alcohol, he and Lan Wangji had gotten into a fight. Verbal, instead of with swords, and without the supernatural murder victims, but Lan Xichen remembered everything else from Lan Wangji's indignant recitation on his return home.

He keeps reading, enjoying the art and the lyrical narration, and keeps enjoying it right up to the scene when Nie Huaisang appears on the page to offer Lan Qiren a present, Meng Yao standing right behind him.

Lan Xichen doesn't remember standing up, but here he is, two feet away from his computer, heart pounding. He hadn't—Why—

What was Meng Yao doing in a story about Wei Wuxian's high school years?

Taking a deep breath, Lan Xichen makes himself return to his desk. As far as he knew, he was the one who introduced Meng Yao to Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, when the boys were in university and after he and Meng Yao started dating--

Lan Xichen can feel his heartbeat slow, as he tries to breathe. He needs to stop this foolishness over Meng Yao. They dated before living together for a while, that was all. They broke up. It happens to people all the time.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were in college for most of that time, anyway, living their lives. They barely knew Meng Yao, even if Wei Wuxian's sister married Meng Yao's half-brother. They couldn't know how badly Lan Xichen had messed up their relationship, how terrible he had been to live with. It was his fault that—

Stop.

Stop.

It's over. In the past. A story that has Meng Yao as a minor character isn't going to mess with Lan Xichen's head. He's not going to let it.

He exhales and makes himself look back at the screen.

Meng Yao only shows up a few more times. For some reason, he's the only character who isn't tagged with his own name. He's there handing over the present to Lan Qiren, standing in front of Nie Huaisang when the Wens arrive, then in two last panels in which he tells the on-screen Lan Xichen that he has to return to Nie Mingjue's side.

Lan Xichen's stomach sours. He and Nie Mingjue had been close, before Meng Yao came into Lan Xichen's life. After that, Lan Xichen hadn't had much time for anyone else. That was normal, Meng Yao always said. People in love only needed each other.

Lan Xichen picks up his phone, then puts it down. He can't ask Lan Wangji about this. It would be weird. Wei Wuxian must just be making artistic narrative choices.

The chapter ends soon after, with Wen Qing and Wen Ning welcomed grudgingly into Cloud Recesses. The next chapter is due up in two weeks, the page declares, and welcomes any comments or feedback. A few people are already posting, gushing over the art work and discussing the teaser from the opening page.

Wanting to be supportive, Lan Xichen writes a small review, complimenting the artistic style, the intricacies of the outfits, poses a query as to the different colour palettes between the first page (dark, red, menacing) and the flashback scenes in Cloud Recesses (light, airy, hopeful), then translates the comment into English and posts both versions up. If Lan Wangji is going though all the trouble of ensuring a bilingual experience, then he will too.

He should go start dinner, he really should, but some part of him is drawn back to the first panel in which Meng Yao appears. He's shorter than Lan Xichen remembers in life, the long hair and braids suiting his face.

It's been so long since Lan Xichen last saw Meng Yao. He's not sure what he's thinking. Is he wistful? Mournful? Sad?

He doesn't know. He never knows what he feels about Meng Yao, which was the problem. He's not normal about feelings. Even Lan Wangji, whose brain is a unique and complicated thing, looking for order and reason and patterns in an illogical and messy world, loves fiercely, feels passionately. Maybe he got all the love in the family, and Lan Xichen got stuck with the stunted and undergrown heart.

Stirring, he pages back to the first appearance of his on-screen twin. The Lan Xichen on the screen looks patient, kind, a smile hiding behind his eyes.

He hadn't realized this is how Wei Wuxian sees him.

He picks up his phone.

> To Wei Wuxian: What an incredible achievement! The art is amazing!

> To Wei Wuxian: Where is the story from? As it's a work of fiction and has nothing to do with your real life ;)

> Wei Wuxian: Oh hahahha the story is a collaboration of a bunch of ideas! I can't tell u more (sworn to secrecy by my collaborators) but so glad you like it!!!!!!

> To Lan Wangji: Did you do the writing? I love the dialogue.

> Lan Wangji: Wei Wuxian did most of the English. I made it better and did the translation.

> To Lan Wangji: Have you told uncle about this project?

> Lan Wangji: He prefers to speak of my composition achievements.

Lan Xichen puts his phone down and rubs his eyes. The old tension between Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji never goes away. It started in high school with Lan Qiren's disapproval of Wei Wuxian, continued into university with Lan Qiren's disapproval of Wei Wuxian as well as Lan Wangji's decision to attend a local university for musical studies instead of going to Julliard in Lan Xichen's footsteps, and outrage at the news that Lan Wangji asked Wei Wuxian to marry him before they even finished their undergraduate degrees.

The resulting years had been a long-standing cold war, with Lan Xichen trying to mediate in the middle. Even the arrival of Lan Yuan on the scene twenty months previous hadn't softened both sides into anything resembling ease.

If Lan Wangji doesn't want to tell their uncle that he and his husband are collaborating on a semi-biographical graphic novel, Lan Xichen isn't going to muddy the waters.

> To Lan Wangji: It sounds like you're enjoying the project.

> Lan Wangji: Working with Wei Ying on any project is enjoyable. I read that couples with young children should try to engage in a mutual hobby outside of parenting.

> To Lan Wangji: Very wise.

He wonders if he should ask about Meng Yao, types out a message to that effect, then deletes it.

> To Lan Wangji: I should start dinner – see you on the weekend for brunch?

>Lan Wangji: Yes.

Lan Xichen puts his phone down. The days are long in August and the sun still bright, but he's tired and he doesn't know why.

~~

anyway that’s where this whole disaster is going. new fandoms are fun. 

[wilderwraith]

supporting role

maplekeene

2635 words

Fitzroy wakes up from his post-curse nap and Argo is there.

—

Fitzroy can’t really remember ever opening his eyes while waking. Usually when he exits his trances, the world just sort of snaps into clarity and his full consciousness comes back to him, but it never really completely left to begin with. This time, it’s very different, and very disorienting. When his consciousness returns, it feels like he’s floating to the top of some dark body of water, like his mind is fighting to emerge from a pitch-black sludge and he can’t remember what he’d been doing. He’s had no awareness of the world at all for the past… Well, he certainly doesn’t know how long it’s been.

He’s so tired. He doesn’t even realize his eyes are closed for a little while, and when he does, it feels like it takes all the strength he has to open them. His surroundings are blurred slightly, at first, and for a brief moment he’s afraid the curse hadn’t been completely dispelled and he’s going to be pulled back into a nightmare. But then his head clears a bit and he finds his faculties fully returning, even if it feels like his bones are lead and every part of his being hurts.

He’s in their tent, he realizes. The canvas walls are alight with the sun outside. He’s pleasantly warm under a light blanket on the cot. He sees his cloak, vest, belts, and boots piled on the ground against the far wall and makes a mental note to scold whoever decided to just drop his expensive wardrobe in the dirt, but he doesn’t have too much time to get worked up over it because then there’s a sound of shifting fabric beside him and he looks up to see—

Argo. The water Genasi is sat in a wooden chair beside the cot, arms folded over his chest and one leg propped up on the other, dozing lightly. His head is bobbing a little, like he’s nodding off in class, and Fitzroy can’t help but smile at the sight.

He takes a moment to appreciate it. Argo couldn’t look unattractive if he tried, honestly, which is a real feat considering he has a goddamn mustache—Fitzroy hated it when they’d first met, but somehow over time he’d come to think it was kind of hot and now hates himself for that. But he thinks Argo looks the most attractive when he doesn’t know anyone is looking at him, so he really drinks in the sight of his toned arms, evident even through his loose tunic, and the smooth chest that’s pretty much always on display since he never laces up his shirts. His navy hair is tied back as usual, the dark curls cascading over his shoulders and back in casual waves. The way the soft light coming through the tent falls on the planes of his face and makes his blue scales shine like water really starts up the butterflies in Fitzroy’s stomach and god, he probably needs to not be staring like this at his friend and coworker—

And then, just like, a memory comes rushing to the forefront of his brain complete unbidden and echoes loudly in his ears. He can hear it as clearly as he can hear his own breathing.

“I know all about ya. I know… I know you’re not the fancy lad that you put on. You come from, y’know, kinda lowly stock. Your mom and your long haul truck driver dad, and… I know this ‘cause I was investigatin’ ya. I was checkin’ up on ya, keepin’ an eye on ya.”

Something sour curls in Fitzroy’s gut. Of course, he’s known that something was up with Argo for a while now, and he can’t be completely sure that this is what he’s been up to, but to know that his friend, his sidekick, has been secretly digging through his past and personal life… The betrayal from that is only rivaled by his utter embarrassment and—he hates to admit—shame. He’s spent a considerable amount of effort to keep anyone from learning about his background, and for Argo to be the one to find out is…kind of catastrophic, if he’s being honest. For different reasons.

He’s really not looking forward to the talk they’re going to have to have in the near future.

The longer he looks at Argo, though, the more memories begin to come back and there’s a large part of Fitzroy that just can’t be angry with him. There is no part of Argonaut Keene that has ever been mean or petty or vicious, which Fitzroy can’t say of himself, and in his heart of hearts he knows that Argo couldn’t have had ill intentions. Was it kind of shitty? Yeah, but Argo must have thought there was good reason. He’s a rogue, but he’s never struck Fitzroy as nosy. Not when it comes to his friends.

And that brings back more of Argo’s one-sided conversation with his lifeless body.

“You’re a good dude. You’re a really good dude, and you’re my friend, and I believe—I believe in ya.”

“I’m your friend, and Firbolg is your friend. And I think you’re gonna be remarkable! I think you’re gonna be just an amazing person! Because, you just… You have it in ya.”

“Don’t let your failure dictate what you’re gonna be. Y’know, when you fail at somethin’ the only way it defines ya is if you give up! And you haven’t given up!”

“Look, you gotta come back to us. We can’t do this without ya.”

A flood of warmth rushes through Fitzroy, then. He’s said in the past that he doesn’t trust Argo, but he’s not sure if that’s really true. Even when he acts shady and keeps obvious secrets, Fitzroy would still trust him with his life. The utter adoration that blooms inside him at just the sight of the rogue is enough to quell his unease about their current standings, at least a little.

He’s glad he was unconscious while Argo practically bared his heart in front of him, and he’s even gladder that he heard everything. He’s never really known someone with a heart of gold before, not like Argo’s. Affection swells alarmingly within him as he continues to gaze at the Genasi’s sharp, handsome features, dark eyelashes fanning out across his blue skin, shiny lips parted slightly, strong chest rising and falling with gentle breaths—

Before he feels too flustered, he coughs a little and, as he’d thought, Argo starts and wakes immediately. When his sea green eyes fall on Fitzroy, Fitzroy smiles and hopes it doesn’t look as awkward as it feels. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

Argo smiles, too, a softer version of the relieved expression on his face the last time Fitzroy had woken up beside him. “I spend a lot of time at your bedside.”

“I know.” He laughs a little. “I’m, uh, I’m a frail—”

“It’s a little creepy,” Argo says with a kind grin.  

Fitzroy shifts and tries to prop himself up, but his arms don’t seem to want to hold his weight very well. It’s embarrassing, being this weak in front of Argo, but it would’ve probably bothered him a lot more if his sidekick hadn’t looked at him with such soft kindness and wordlessly reached out to support him until he was sitting.

He takes a breath and tries to get his head on straight. It’s probably a good idea to get right down to business—there are far more pressing matters than his and Argo’s relationship and it’s the next thing weighing on him. The past twenty-four hours have been…a lot.

“Um, Argo,” he says, fiddling with the edge of his blanket. “I heard���what you said to me, in some far-off, distant part of my consciousness while I was suffering from the curse. And… We obviously have a lot to talk about. But I just have one thing to say to you right now, Argo.”

The suspense is palpable between them and Fitzroy almost wants to say something else entirely, but he shoves that aside.

“Tell me you picked up the pieces of the apple that I took a bite out of.”

—

After making sure the apple is mended and safely stowed away, Fitzroy leans back in the cot for a moment. Exhaustion really has set deep in every fiber of his body and he aches all over.

“Ya doin’ alright?” Argo asks, a concerned frown coming over his face. “I mean, that was… That was all pretty intense. Are you feelin’ okay?”

“I’m…very tired.” Fitzroy runs fingers through his hair, suddenly aware that he probably looks like a mess and undoubtedly has bad bedhead.

“I’m sure.” Argo looks a little uncomfortable for a moment, his gaze falling and his hands fidgeting in his lap. “Can—can I ask you a question, Fitz?”

Fitzroy isn’t sure why his stomach drops, but he nods. “Uh, sure.”

“If you heard me talkin’ about—about, y’know, that, then… Did ya hear…everything?” He looks equal parts anxious and hopeful as he asks it, like half of him is dreading Fitzroy’s answer and the other half is hoping he’ll say yes.

Fitzroy looks at him for a moment, contemplating and trying to figure out how to go about answering the question. He’s not surprised Argo’s asking, but he’s not sure what he’s hoping he’ll say.

He takes a breath. “Yes, the adventures of Larry the Lime were…extremely riveting.”

A blush slams into Argo’s cheeks and he laughs loudly. “Yeah, I know!”

Fitzroy laughs too, feeling a blush crawl up into his own cheeks. He loves seeing Argo laugh.

After another moment, though, the laughter dies down and the actual topic at hand still hangs between them acutely, unaddressed. Fitzroy combs through his hair again. “Um, but seriously, Argo, I—yes, I heard everything. I should… I should thank you for what you said. I didn’t know you felt that way, and I’m… Well, thank you.” He clears his throat awkwardly and feels the blush heat up. Expressing genuine, heartfelt emotion has never been especially easy for him. “It probably didn’t seem like it, but your presence helped a lot. I could…feel your support and that meant a lot to me.”

When he looks up, Argo is smiling from ear to ear. It makes Fitzroy’s stomach do another somersault. “I helped? I mean, you really feel like it helped?”

Fitzroy blinks and nods. “Yes, I—”

“Ha ha!” Argo, seemingly without thinking, reaches over and grabs Fitzroy’s hand with both of his. “I felt so helpless the whole time. I mean, the Firbolg went lookin’ for Calhain and Althea had that ward and I just—I felt like I couldn’t do anything to help except sit there and talk, so I’m really glad that I—that I could help ya, even a little.”

Then, he looks down and realizes he’s got Fitzroy’s hand. His eyes widen and he lets go as if it’s burned him. “Oh… I’m sorry, Fitz, I didn’t mean ta—”

The sudden absence of the rogue’s palm, of the cool, scaly skin against his own hand is surprisingly jarring. To Fitzroy’s horror, he finds himself chasing Argo’s hand and grabbing it. “Argo, I—”

Argo, I what? What exactly is he planning on saying? What the hell is he doing?

“Argo… I…” He swallows thickly. His gaze is trained on their hands, on his sidekick’s blue fingers curling around his own. “When I say your support meant a lot to me, I mean that… Well, you mean a lot to me. You mean a lot more to me than I can—” He stutters, completely unsure what his mouth is trying to do. But it’s sure as shit too late to back out now, isn’t it? “Do you… Do you understand where I’m going with this? It’s—I—”

The other scaly palm is suddenly on his cheek and he looks up with a start. Argo’s face is very close, close enough that Fitzroy can smell the salty ocean scent that follows him around, like he’s constantly being chased by a sea breeze. “Are ya sayin’ that ya like me?”

Fitzroy’s face is on fire—it must be. This is definitely not how he imagined this conversation going and yet… And yet, Argo is so close. His heart is pounding. His breath is coming quicker and he feels like any second now he’ll explode all to pieces. The only thing keeping him together is the fact that Argo’s touching him and somehow it feels right. It feels safe. It feels…kind of like the home he’s always wanted.

Slowly, Fitzroy nods. “I—yes, that’s what I’m saying. I…” He takes another deep breath. “Like you, Argo, and I think I have for some time now. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I don’t expect you to—”

“Fitz.”

Fitzroy blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“Will ya shut up and let me kiss you?”

His heart is hammering away at his ribcage and it feels like all his insides are melting into goop and his head is spinning so fast he can hardly think, but his body reacts almost on its own. He whispers, “Yes.”

Argo’s lips are dry, but smooth, and cool like the rest of his skin. It’s quite pleasant. Fitzroy had never allowed himself to entertain the thought of kissing him much, for the fact that he was almost certain his feelings were unrequited, but if he had imagined it, this would probably be exactly it. Argo’s hand is still cupping his face, and without really thinking Fitzroy’s hand rises to his shoulder, up his neck, and into his hair. There it tangles into the damp, beachy waves that are just as soft as he would have guessed.

The kiss isn’t long, even though Fitzroy would like it to be. But there’s activity on the other side of the tent, and they both seem to remember that there’s business to attend to at the same time.

When Fitzroy opens his eyes, Argo looks just as breathless and stunned as he feels. There’s a handsome flush in his cheeks and a sparkle in his eyes that Fitzroy doesn’t see very often. A curl has come loose from his ponytail and dangles in his face and it’s honestly kind of adorable.

“This doesn’t get you off the hook,” Fitzroy says, still trying to get his breath back.

Argo winces a bit. “Yeah… I know.”

Fitzroy swings his legs over the side of the cot, grimacing at the ache in his body when he does. “And I guess we have even more to talk about now.”

“I guess we do.”

“But, um. That was…very enjoyable. I’d like to do it again sometime when I don’t feel like death warmed over.”

Argo smiles. “That would be great.”

They each take a moment to collect themselves. Argo re-ties his hair and Fitzroy stands to put on the rest of his outfit and comb his hair with an actual comb that he keeps in his belt pouch. He’ll really have to compartmentalize this, he thinks, if he wants to finish this assignment strongly.

As they’re about to exit the tent, Argo clears his throat and leans in close to Fitzroy’s ear. Tingles race down his spine when he feels that stupid mustache tickle the side of his face. “Just in case it wasn’t clear, Fitz, I like you too.”

With that, the Genasi pushes aside the tent flap and departs in one quick, fluid motion, leaving Fitzroy standing there with steam coming from his ears. Althea is worried he’s gotten sick when he finally joins the rest of the group, and he makes a point of remembering to strangle Argo later for winking at him.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Freeguy117 - At the park This was supposed to be a short little snippet, but that didn’t happen

They made it to the park as the sun began its climb over the treeline. It was later than he wanted but the fact that the others came at all made him feel…something. It was nice. He could settle on nice. Labelling his emotions had been a challenge, like working a muscle he never had to use before. The other two had proven they could be trusted, and with them at his back he felt safe. There you go, chief. Nice and Safe. He could imagine the playful sarcasm in the voice in his head. If she could see him now.  

They had gotten up early to make it to the park with the nature trails before everyone else. John had gotten used to leaving his helmet in the car. It had just taken a bit to get used to. The sunglasses stayed on. The mask across his face was also a comfort. He looked as normal as a 7 foot tall scarred man could at 5 in the morning at a park. At least he wasn’t Guy, who was a bit shorter but almost twice as wide. The Slayer always looked like a bull in a china shop wherever they went, despite being light on his feet and not that destructive out of combat. 

He looked over at Gordon, who was barely awake and leaning against the car with a coffee thermos in his hand and staring intently at something. John followed his tired gaze back to Guy. They made eye contact before pointing at Guy and signing.

[Why did we let him buy that?]

John perked up a little and took notice the difference between his and Guy’s choice of clothing. They had both dressed to their comfort level from the slim pickings they had gotten from the Goodwill. John was in a long sleeve shirt and track pants that hid most of his body. Guy had gone the opposite route, and was taking off his jacket to reveal a ratty muscle shirt that was plastered with some obscene slogan and the bright neon running shorts that were a size too small.

John let out his breath through his nose, his version of a laugh, as he turned to see Gordon redden at the sight of that much skin. He wondered when those two were going to stop dancing around each other. Catching them staring at each other and awkward shuffling around their tiny apartment was losing its charm.

So what if the trip had an ulterior motive? If they were going to make fun of his face he was going to make them squirm a bit. As a friend and roommate it was practically part of the deal. He hadn’t been a wingman before but it couldn’t be that hard. John was great at thinking on his feet. 

 Grabbing his bag, he motioned for the other two to follow to the trail head. There was a bench marking the entrance and a sign with the different trails displayed with information about local flora and fauna. Gordon took a seat and pulled out his phone, thumbing the screen to the stopwatch. He set his phone down on the bench next to the bag before looking over and asking the most important question. 

[Rules?]

“No shortcuts, stay on the trail, loser has to buy breakfast. Deal?” John said looking over at Guy.

“Deal.” The Slayer had a grin showing too many teeth. John returned it under his mask. 

He was enjoying their supersoldier competitions and the beleaguered expression it put on Gordon’s face. Gordon, who was happy to sit by and let them go be giant manchildren while he sipped his coffee and watched with a fond look on his face. Gordon who would also join in whenever he thought he could make it work out in his favor. It wasn’t Guy or John’s fault they were banned from three different food chains and a local bookstore. Guy was still upset about the latter since he had grown attached to the cat, Tulip, who lived there.

As John and Guy lined up next to each other, Gordon signalled for a moment before fiddling with his phone a bit more. A familiar countdown played as both of them just stared at him.

“Really?” John said, trying to sound exasperated as the MarioKart countdown played. Gordon just shrugged. 

The final chime sounded and then they were off, flying down the trail unhindered by the soft sandy soil and uneven terrain. Rocks kicked up by their steps flew in the underbrush, birdsong in the distance the only soundtrack to their race. The trail they had chosen was 5k with little elevation. Still they had to look out for roots, fallen trees, and other trip hazards John had pulled ahead by a few meters when the trail narrowed and Guy struggled to dodge a branch.

John felt like he was flying for the first time out of his armor. Nothing on his mind but the race and the rhythm of his feet hitting the ground. No HUD, no mission, no constant stream on intel. Just unfiltered morning air, sunlight through the trees, and the soft curses coming from the behemoth behind him.

It was such a strange feeling to be running without the sound of gunfire or engines nearby. The green surrounding him was a comfort, yet at the same time, alien. 

 When they hit the marker for the halfway point and started down a slight decline, he took a running leap and cleared a mud pit. Guy was not so lucky. Legs the size of tree trucks pistoned their way through the mud, Guy’s weight dragging him down. Scrambling out of the mess he followed John while cursing loudly.

“You gonna let this old man beat you?” John called over his shoulder. 

He was having fun with this. Most people couldn’t keep up and it’d been a long time since he’d been around anyone close to his speed. A look of surprise flashed over Guy’s face before he gritted his teeth in a manic sneer and booked it down the trail. He was gaining, fueled by the taunts into a single minded drive to win.

The sound of super-soldiers sprinting through the underbrush was not one Gordon was familiar with. He had hoped them staying on the trail would narrow the path of destruction. That hope died when he heard Guy curse John out somewhere through the trees. He switched tabs on his phone back to the stopwatch. It had been almost 10 minutes and he was getting hungry.

It had been nice to sit and watch the sunrise, a small pause before whatever happened next. He was learning to savor the moment after having the rug pulled out from under his feet so many times. His confidence and anxiety growing everyday he spent with his new roommates. They had helped him with pointers after learning his background, or lack thereof. At least John had kept a straight face when he explained the amount of training he had received. Guy had laughed his ass off before learning that was all Gordon had to go on and still survived Black Mesa. But not without scars. 

Yeah, his roommates were strange, and kind of assholes, but they had grown on him a bit. Now if they’d only hurry up with their little game they woke him up to play referee for. 

No sooner than the thought had crossed his mind, the sound of branches crashing and a blur of green and brown and neon made him jump up, phone forgotten. 

John and Guy were on the ground, covered in mud and leaves. As Gordon moved closer to see what had happened, he jumped again when Guy shrieked. He released the hold he had around John's neck and jerked away like he had been bit.

“What the fuck!” Guy was glaring at John before he cracked and started laughing.

“What?” John’s gap toothed smile was visible as he tried to fix his broken sunglasses, mask hanging off of one ear. 

“Bastard!” Guy snapped his head over to poor Gordon who was standing out of the way, “So, who won?”

Gordon merely stared at him before grabbing his coffee and walking back to the car. John and Guy followed and when Guy pressed for the answer again he got a towel in the face. 

[Clean up before we miss breakfast hours.] He signed before hopping into the passenger seat.

John clapped Guy on the shoulder before swapping out new sunglasses from his bag.

“Don’t worry, you can sit next to him when we get there.” John quietly said as Gordon glared at them both in the side mirror.

Guy stood there, blinking stupidly as John walked to the driver’s side door.

“Hurry up and get in, I want coffee.”

[nev3rfound]

not just an apprentice : b.b

brief summary: over the years you’ve worked as an engineer for the avengers, you and bucky have become closer as friends, but there’s always been something unspoken between you both. and at this point, bucky is running out of excuses to come and spend time with you

word count: 2.6k requested: nope. i’ve not really written anything in a while, but i had this idea today and fell in love with the end result warnings: none that i’m aware of

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

masterlistin’

 permanent taglist

“Hey, Y/n?” Glancing over your shoulder a small smile forms on your lips as he stands in the doorway, meekly holding part of his suit with his eyes avoiding yours.

Placing your tools down, you swivel in your chair and lean against your desk. “What’s up, Buck?” You question, raising an eyebrow as he walks in hesitantly before placing his arm cover onto the main work station.

“I erm, had some problems with the cover during training.” He tells you quietly, not wanting other techs to pick up on your conversation as they continue to work away, their backs turned to you both.

Leaning forward, you pick up the mechanical cover and place it onto your desk. Bucky watches as you take a seat, picking up your glasses as you squint.

As a force of habit, Bucky finds himself lost watching you. He notices how you tilt your head, pursing your lips as you pick at the fabric. You remain silent, oblivious to the growing smile forming on his usual stern expression.

When you first joined Starks team, Bucky was nervous. He never warmed to newcomers, even if they weren’t part of the core team. You worked in the science and engineering behind their uniforms and weaponry.

You were a lot brighter than the others before you. Unlike previous employees who made no effort to engage with the Avengers, you spent the time to get to know the people behind the uniforms you helped fix. That’s what Tony saw in you back when you were an apprentice, just a newcomer wanting to do more.

Whilst you were just an apprentice you worked longer hours, stayed later than required and often found that Bucky didn’t sleep much. He wandered the compound in the midst of the night only to notice a light still on in the tech department. And that’s when he first noticed you.

Tucked away with a lamp on as you worked on a circuit. You wore headphones as you tapped your foot on the floor, oblivious to company hovering nearby. But somehow you noticed and invited him in.

Since then, you two got closer. Years have passed by, but there was always something unspoken between you both.

“How’d this happen, then?” You speak up, lifting your glasses and pushing them on top of your head, forcing your hair back. 

Bucky tries to hide his smile, knowing it was another dumb thing that happened. “You want the true version of events or somethin’ that sounds dangerous?” He questions, watching as you softly laugh before turning your body to face him, crossing one leg over the other. 

“I’ll take the true version today, Buck.” You ask him, watching as he exhales loudly before taking a chair and sitting alongside you. 

“Well,” He starts and leans forward, a sign you know that this isn’t just an accident like other times. “I was training with Sam, and he just threw himself at my arm. Tore the cuff and it short-circuited.” Bucky lifts his sleeve, motioning to the plates on his wrist that are sticking out as opposed to tucked in like they should be. 

“Damn.” You lean closer, your knees touching his as you rest your hands on his metal arm. “Sam’s got force I’ll give him that.” You softly laugh, looking up to see a tint crossing Bucky’s cheeks before you move away and clear your throat. “Okay, I’ll repair the arm cover for you, fix that hole.” You lift up the fabric of the cover, poking your finger through the hole caused by the metal plates of his arm. “And then come in tomorrow and I’ll sort your arm out?” 

Bucky nods in response as he rises to his feet. “Knew I could rely on you, Y/L/N.” He salutes you, forgetting everyone else was in the room as he walks out, leaving you smiling like an idiot. 

*

It had been just over a week since you had last fixed something for Bucky, and you were busy working away with Peter on his newest webbing. 

Once more, you were stuck in another predicament - quite literally in this case. 

“I just feel like it’s too sticky.” Peter tries his best to explain as your hand remains webbed to the main work station in your office. “Is there some kinda remover in here somewhere?” He questions whilst pacing around, looking in drawers whilst everyone is off on lunch. 

Bucky whistles to himself, finding he’s wandered into the tech building once more without realising it. 

“Try that drawer,” Bucky’s ears perk up at the sound of your voice and he turns the corner, seeing you with your arm extended as you try to reach your desk from the main table. “no, that drawer, Peter.” You huff loudly and Bucky leans against the doorframe, seeing the kid rummaging through drawers with a sense of urgency. 

“Have I come at a bad time?” Bucky speaks up, and you look up with wide eyes. 

Peter hits his head on someone's desk as he rises to his feet, holding the solution in his hand. “Oh hi, Mr Barnes.” He nervously mutters as he walks over to your side, squirting the solution on your hand whilst your other rests on your hip. 

“I’ve told you, kid.” Bucky holds a hand up and Peter knowingly nods, watching as you lift your hand up and stretch your fingers. 

“Thank god for that.” You let out a small laugh as Peter smiles to you. “Okay, how about we reduce the elasticity by 5%, and reevaluate once I’ve got the components sorted?” You suggest to Peter who nods, excitement crossing his face as he places the solution on the table. 

“Sounds great, thanks Y/n!” He tells you before walking out of your office, leaving you and Bucky alone. “Bye Mr Barnes, I mean, Bucky.” Peter adds, quietly swearing to himself as he turns the corner. 

Taking a seat at your station you run your fingers through your hair. “Bad time?” Bucky steps forward, watching as you lower your now cold mug of coffee from your lips as you shake your head.

“Not at all,” You tell him, trying to hide your tiredness. “what’s up?” 

Sadly, Bucky knows you well enough by now to notice when you’re overworking yourself. “Nothing, it can wait.” He states and you shake your head, knowing what he’s going to suggest based on how he’s lifting his hands up. 

“No, no, Bucky I’m fine.” You try to tell him, but it’s no use as he’s taking a hold of your hand, guiding you into your private office where you have a small sofa. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night, I’ve got too much to do to nap.” You protest as Bucky takes a blanket from underneath the sofa, motioning for you to lie down. 

“Y/n, we both know you’ve not gone home until after midnight for the past week.” Bucky reminds you and he watches as you lower your head in defeat and kick your boots off. 

“Alright, fine.” You mutter, lying down on the small sofa as you pull the blanket up over your body. “Just, just don’t let me sleep longer than an hour alright?” 

Bucky nods. “I’ll be back in an hour.” He smiles to you as he pulls your blinds down, blocking out the bright sun reflecting from the Avengers tower. “Sleep tight, Y/n.” He whispers, watching you drift off almost instantly as he quietly closes the door behind him. 

*

Walking with difficulty, you try your best to look over the tower of folders in your arms as you make your way into the lab. 

As you walk you hear footsteps approaching quickly and a series of folders are lifted from your arms, allowing you to see ahead of you and who has taken some of your load. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s Bucky. 

“What’re you doing down here?” You chuckle, seeing him smirk as you blow loose strands of hair from your face as you turn the corner into the lab. 

“Why has there gotta be a reason?” Bucky responds with another question, catching you off guard as you place the folders on the counter, noticing your colleagues turning their heads. 

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms as you shrug. “I, I just assumed something was up.” You answer, feeling a small wave of guilt cross you as you lower your eyes from his. 

“Hey,” Bucky leans closer, nudging your arm as he mutters your name. “sorry.” He whispers, catching your eyes and cracks a small smile to you. “There was something, it’s kinda embarrassing.” He scratches the back of his neck and looks over his shoulder, catching some of your colleagues quickly turning their heads away. 

“We can talk about it in my office if you want to?” You quietly suggest, but Bucky shakes his head. 

Taking his hand in yours, you guide him into your office knowing the signs he needs some privacy. This was one of the many small things you did that Bucky appreciated more than you’ll ever fully understand. You don’t force him to say things he’s not comfortable admitting, you can just read the signs across his demeanour. 

Closing your office door, you sit down on the sofa as opposed to your desk. Your desk makes things feel too formal, it’s where you have meetings with Tony about progress on certain projects or your fellow colleagues and future apprentices he’s considering. But your sofa is a friendly place, there is no separation between you both. 

Bucky sits beside you as he places with the hem of his shirt. “I erm, it’s my arm.” He tells you quietly, avoiding your intentive gaze. “During combat practise I was giving it my all you know,” He rambles, always wanting to give you some form of background which you secretly loved to listen to. “and I went to tackle Ant-Man but before I reached the guy he went small and got into my arm and tore something.”

You nod along, but then pause and straighten up. “Wait, when did this happen?” You ask suddenly and Bucky tenses. 

“Erm, yesterday?” He answers unconfidently and notices a smile forming on your lips.

“And you said Scott did this?” You raise an eyebrow, watching as Bucky shuffles on the sofa and nods. “Buck, Scott’s been out of town since last week visiting Cassie.” You tell him and his cheeks turn a deep shade of pink within a blink of an eye.

“I erm, I,” He stutters over his words, rising to his feet as he nears your door. “sorry, I, I.” 

You rise to your feet, remaining still as Bucky grips the door handle, keeping his back turned. He doesn’t want to see you laugh at him, make fun of him for being so stupid. “Bucky, you don’t need to be sorry.” You say softly, no hint of laughter leaving your lips. 

Turning back around, Bucky slowly lifts his eyes up to see you looking at him caringly. You aren’t holding back a laugh at his mistake, you’re concerned. “Look it was a dumb mistake. I wanted to make it sound like I’m not just a dumb ass.” He huffs as he lifts his real arm and runs it through his hair. 

Taking a step forward, you rest your hand on his shoulder watching as his eyes focus on yours. “I’ll never make fun of you, Buck.” You remind him. “Unless it was something really stupid, then I might contemplate it.” You crack a joke, and it eases his mood as the corners of his lips rise. “Now, you wanna tell me what happened?” 

Bucky nods as you both walk back to your sofa. “I fell over during my run this morning and landed on my shoulder.” He mutters, waiting to hear you laugh but you just nod in response. “It didn’t feel right, I knew I did something to it.” 

“Okay, can I see it?” You ask him sweetly. 

Despite how close you two are, you haven’t seen him shirtless before. Normally you’re given pieces of his uniform to fix, whether it be clothing or parts of his arm. Most of the time, he sits with you as you fix plates on his arm whilst it’s still attached to him. But this is a first for you both and nerves were rising around you both. 

Slowly, Bucky unbuttons his shirt and tries to keep his breathing calm. You focus on the clouds in the sky, covering the top of the Avengers Tower across the site until Bucky clears his throat. 

Your eyes focus on the top of his shoulder, noticing the scarring that still remains from the botched job HYDRA did when they attached his first arm. 

Lifting your hand up, you look up at Bucky. “Is this okay?” You whisper, watching as he nods. 

Leaning closer, you run your fingers along the joint from metal to flesh and Bucky relaxes under your soft touch. You were always gentle, overly cautious which Bucky loved and struggled to adjust to at first compared to what he was used to. 

“Okay,” You mutter to yourself as you stand up and move to grab your glasses and sit on the arm of the sofa. “the wires have just come out and have sliced across the top plate, it’ll be easy to sort out don’t worry.” You explain to him, knowing it’s comforting for him to know exactly what you’re going to do. 

You rise to your feet and turn to your filing cabinet where you keep some spare equipment. Bucky watches as you pick out a few tools before sitting beside him once more.

“If any of this hurts, you will tell me, right?” You ask him, looking in his eyes as he nods before his eyes flicker down to your lips. 

“I will don’t worry doll.” He mutters, unable to ignore how close you are to him. 

Clearing your throat, you begin to work on his arm, checking in every few minutes ensuring he’s comfortable. 

“Did I tell you about the time Peter once shot a web at his own pants?” You speak up, breaking the silence as you listen to Bucky chuckle, a sound you’ll never tire of.

“He did what?” Bucky continues to laugh, imagining the sight as you carry on sorting the wires out as you lean against his chest. “How’d he manage that?” 

You can’t help but join in with his laughs as you explain the story, both lost in each other as you share more stories. 

Across the site, Tony stands alongside Steve in his office where he can see your office with a clear view. 

“You think they’ll ever say anything?” Tony turns to Steve, unable to miss the smiles you’re sharing with Bucky as you remain tied up in one another. 

Steve exhales quietly, leaning against the glass panes as he notices that unmistakable curiosity in Tony’s expression. “I don’t know,” Steve answers, a small smile on his face as he can see Bucky’s growing smile, something that is a rare sight to everyone besides you. “but I hope they say somethin’ soon.” Steve chuckles to himself. “I don’t know how many more accidents Bucky can cause before he runs out of ideas.” 

Their attention returns to you both as you fix up Bucky’s arm and move away from him. 

“And you’re all fixed up, Buck.” You say with a bright smile, your face aching from laughter as he puts his shirt back on. “Just avoid falling over anything for a few days.” You tell him and Bucky nods as he stands up.

“That’s gonna be hard, doll.” He states with a heavy sigh as he stands in front of you. 

“And why would that be?” You tilt your head as Bucky rests his hand on your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

“Because I’m already falling for you.” He chuckles as he leans closer, finally acting on his feelings rather than leaving them unspoken. 

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio to add yourself☺️

@biss-stuff   @psychicforest  @lourightm @mywinterwolf   @justsomedreaming @stanlux17@supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx @courtneychicken@marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ 

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 11

(Master post)

Before you start, I want to thank all of you so much for the amazing fan art. I never thought I would see so many versions of Marinette’s outfit. Also, your comments and support have really made writing this a delight. 

Okay now for part 11.

_______________________________________________________________________

The ladybloger was relaxing in her room. She was looking at her laptop and was thinking of what to do? Adrien’s interview didn't start for another half an hour, nothing new regarding Ladybug and Chat noir, and she had zero motivation in tackling her homework. She was considering messaging her boyfriend and seeing if he wanted to play some ‘Super penguino’, he would likely say yes. Just as she picked up her phone, she remembered that thing Marinette sent her.

“Oh yea, what was this about.” She said aloud as she looked at the audio recording. “Jeez, its like a forty minute recording. What did she do an interview?”

Alya shrugged, ‘super penguino’ can wait. She pressed play and began listening to the recording.

_______________________________________________________________________

“And We. Are. Live! Welcome my lovely listeners! I am Sonny Potins and you are watching ‘Scoops and Scandal’, the show that brings up the scoops and scandals with your favorite Celebs.” The enthusiastic wavy blonde haired host exclaimed. She was in her mid twenties and was wearing plenty of make up. “And today we have a very special guest, you have seen his ads all over Paris, the young model who is the face of the Gabriel brand, the one and only, Adrien Agreste.”

The spot light shined on Adrien as he approached the stage to his seat with the audio from the cologne ad playing in the background. The studio audience cheered as the model walked with a cool yet approachable attitude. A bunch of them screaming ‘I love you’ ‘Adrien!’ ‘You are amazing’.  Adrien smiled and waved at the audience.

Sonny was sitting in a comfy leather chair across from Adrien, who was sitting in an identical chair. She was sitting on the left, and her was sitting on the right. A table with two water bottle and two microphones stood between them. The chairs were angled to help the two face each other while also face the cameras and the audience. Above them was a jumbo screen that would show clips, info, and whatever the people in charge wanted to show. Usually fan submitted questions, photos or live cam.

“I am happy to be here.” Adrien greeted the audience.

“I am sure all of Paris would love to hear all about you. So lets get the ball rolling.”

Back stage, Marinette watched out of view, she looked to see Adrien notice her and give her a quick wink before looking back at the host. Marinette smiled at his sudden wink, doing her best to stay calm.

“Seems like everything is going well.” A voice whispered from Marinette’s jacket.

“Yea, I can't believe Adrien found out about the scarf. I thought he would be sad about finding out the gift wasn't from his father.” Marinette whispered.

“Seems like he is happy to have someone who cares about his feelings. You both seem to be really connecting.” Tikki assured. “I think he doesn't see you as a just a friend anymore.”

“You think?” Marinette questioned with hope in her voice.

“Call it a hunch, but in the mean time, we should probably listen in. Maybe you can learn more about him through this interview.”

“I am pretty sure it won't reveal anything new, most of these interviews are just for publicity, repeating questions that were asked in the past. But I am glad Adrien is getting the screen time he deserves. He is really great.” Marinette responded. “Though I am not opposed to watching at all.”

Tikki rolled her eyes and smiled at her chosen. Marinette sure was helpless when it came to Adrien, but the same could be said about Chat noir around Ladybug. How the red bug Kwami wanted to reveal this tid bit of information to Marinette. But she said she wouldn't and the time will come one day.

_______________________________________________________________________

“And I was right about his favorite color!” One of the four girls squeaked.

“We all got that question! I expect nothing less from the Adriknights.” Adrienne answered with pride.

Lila was sitting to the side of the couch as she watched these four fangirls gush at every word that Adrien said, it was nauseating. The interview was so by the book it was boring, combine that fact with annoying fans and it only gets worse. The brunette had begun contemplating the pros and cons of a lobotomy by plastic spoon, but she knew she would have to endure. 

Adrienne was the perfect person to set up to be akumatized, she needed to wait for something to make her upset, anything that would bring potential negative emotions to draw an akuma here. But this interview was practically kid stuff. But then something caught her attention. Lila tuned back into the tv to listen to a particularly interesting thread the host was spinning.

_______________________________________________________________________

“...but yes I am allergic to feathers, but as long as I am not wearing them or I breath near them, I don't sneeze.” Adrien answered.

“Adrien, you are quite an enigma in this city. a young teen that is one of the most well known faces in Paris, a voice actor, and has his own line of cologne, which is just getting an international release.” Sonny exclaimed. The crowd cheered as the jumbo screen showed a picture of the Ad. “Yet you are one of the sweetest people I ever had the pleasure of interviewing. Most stars around your age are... well they are spoiled brats to put it mildly. What helps you stay so kind and keeps you grounded?”

The crowd was quiet as they waited for Adrien’s answer.

“Well I am lucky enough to be surrounded by talented people. My Best buddy Nino is an up and coming DJ, his girlfriend Alya runs the Ladyblog, my fencing Team mate Kagami comes from a legacy of proud fencers, and Marinette is a fashion designer that has designed works that the fashion critic Audrey Borgeois and My father have both approved of. The latter of which I can tell you personally is no small feat.” Adrien started off. 

“Then of course the fact that we live in a city full of superheroes. Nothing is more awe inspiring and humbling then seeing Ladybug save Paris. She is just so incredible. It is reassuring knowing that she is watching over Paris. She is really Miraculous” Adrien slightly gushed before bringing it back. “Those are just some of the amazing people I know and know off, its easy to remember to stay humble when you are surrounded by wonderful people.”

The crowd awed at the cute statement. They were eating up his words.

“Talented indeed. You are quite the fan of Ladybug. If I remember correctly she has saved you a few time. Should Chat noir be worried if you have a crush on the spotted heroine?” Sonny teased.

The blond blushed, but didn't let himself get flustered.

“I am sure Chat noir wouldn't hold it against me. I am pretty sure everyone in Paris has a little crush on Ladybug.” Adrien deflected. “It would be easier to make a list of people who didn't like Ladybug.”

The crowd clapped in agreement, Ladybug was a well respected hero and the Blond made an excellent point. Marinette smiled at the little display, the blond was able to easily handle everything the host was throwing at him. She also was a little happy to hear that Adrien was a fan.

“Truer words have never been spoken. Though speaking of the cat hero, he happens to be a handsome blond hero with a certain flare, are you actually chat noir?” Sonny prodded. “Because that is a popular theory going around.

Adrien for a split second felt a tingle of fear in the back of his spine, but thankfully he knew the host was playing with him.  So he laughed it off.

“Secrets out, Thats why I was cast to voice him in the movie.” Adrien remarked with a clearly joking tone.

The crowd laughed along with the blond.

“If that were the case, my father would have a trademark on all of the Chat noir merchandise in Paris.” Adrien answered.

“I heard your father is pretty protective of your image. Is it true that people can't take any pictures of you without you or your father’s consent without being fined?”

“Pictures are fine as long as they don't try to make merchandise of me or use it for financial gain like in magazines, media and tabloids. Thats when people get sued. Thats why there aren't that many paparazzi that hang out by the Agreste manor, they couldn't handle the lawsuits.” Adrien explained. “Not exactly easy to do, my father spent a fortune doing that, but considering the industry he was in, he more then made back his money.”

Marinette blinked.

That explained why he was never hounded at school by photographers. Though that didn't really stop the fans when that ad first came out.

“Fascinating, Your father must be pretty protective over you?”

“Its his way of showing he cares.” Adrien answered. He managed to maintain a smile despite how irritated he was over how protective and controlling his father is.

“So that means having permission to bring a guest to any of your events must be a hardsell.” Sonny continued prodding.

“He is easing up a bit more ever since he said I could go to school. I can sometimes bring friends along to events, like fashions shows and photoshoots.” Adrien assured. “I was even able to bring a guest to this interview.”

Sonny nodded.

“Oh, yes. I believe I bumped into her when you both showed up. I believe her name was Marinette. She was the designer you mentioned earlier.” Sonny smiled.

“Thats right. Marinette is pretty great. I am glad she was able to come along.” Adrien responded.

Marinette smiling brightly at the comment, he was happy she was there.

Sonny smirked, she had found a way to kick this interview up a notch.

“Hey can we get a view of Adrien’s cute guest? I remember her wearing this amazing outfit and I think the audience will love to meet her.”  Sonny asked.

“Wait I think she should have a say before...” Adrien tried to interject but sure enough the big screen revealed a camera showing up behind Marinette.

“Say hi sweetie, you are on the air.” Sonny called out.

The bluish-black haired designer turned around and noticed the camera. She nervously waved, unsure of what to do.

“H-hi sweetie.” Marinette parroted nervously. She wish she was better prepared for this. Granted it wasn't the first time a camera caught her off guard, she still remembers when the cameras following Jagged stone went into her room. That was a real nightmare, this might be a close second.

The crowd was cheering as they saw Marinette on the screen. One person in the audience yelling ‘Damn she cute!’ but no one knew where.

“Oh wow, she is cute.” Sonny commented. “I need to find out where she got that outfit, it is incredible.”

“She made it herself. That is just one of her designs.” Adrien answered. “But I think we should turn the camera off, I don't think she would like to be on camera without permission.”

“Of course.” Sonny motioned quickly and the screen stopped showing Marinette. “I guess we got a little over excited her on SaS. Thats what I call this little show.”

“As I was saying. Marinette did design that outfit herself. She told me it was inspired by Chat noir and I must say it is very impressive.” Adrien veered the conversation back to avoid that awkward moment. He made a mental note to make sure Marinette was okay with being on camera like that and apologize if she wasn't. He had told her she would likely not be on camera, and this was counter to what he had said.

“Well I see why you are humbled by her talent. That design is to die for. Though are you worried that Chat noir might steal her away from you? She did base a design off of him.” Sonny poked.

Adrien felt a faint blush thinking about this.

“I am sure Chat noir would probably find himself falling for her if she wore that in front of him.” Adrien answered, more honestly then the audience knew. 

“So what is your relationship with this Marinette? Are you dating? Because I do remember rumors floating around about you running around Paris with a mystery girl? Omg is SHE that mystery girl?!” Sonny excitedly interrogated, causing the crows to lean forward and ‘Ooooooooh’

“Marinette was one of the first people that helped me out when I first started class, though we didn't exactly get off on the right foot at first.” Adrien began.

“Oh? Someone that didn't love you after first meeting you? I find that hard to believe.” Sonny replied.

The Designer was beet red from the previous questions and was now listening super closely. She was going to get to hear how Adrien thought of her.

“You could almost say she hated me, but considering how she thought I put gum on her seat, I doubt anyone would have had a high opinion of me.” Adrien continued. “ It didn't matter that I was a model or had a decent face...”

One person on the audience screamed ‘Your face is perfect!’ which got a few claps. Adrien nodded in the direction mouthing a  ‘Thanks’ before facing the camera again.

“It was the first time I realized someone was treating me like a person, not just as a model or as some rich person that needed to be coddled. It made me want to change her mind, her opinion of me mattered. Because it was someone that was judging me for me, not my reputation, not my family, just me.” Adrien confessed.

Marinette remembered that moment in the rain outside of the school. It was the moment that she fell in love with him.

“I managed to clear the air with her and she was happy to move past it once she heard me out about the misunderstanding. After that, I started to get to know her.” Adrien smiled. “She had become my first real friend even though it was a bit bumpy at first, she always seemed nervous around me, I thought it was because she was still on guard, but I realized that it was just her being Marinette, she always seemed nervous but never let it stop her from helping people. She is someone I admire and someone that I can say I am better for knowing.” Adrien finished.

The crowd was surprised by his answer. kind of silent by it.

Adrien realized he had more or less spilled out how he felt about her. 

Crap... So much for keeping it calm and professional. I was so busy trying to not  to put a label on it that I ended up spilling my guts. 

The audience started clapping. There was thunderous applause, they were moved by Adrien’s word. 

At the edge of the stage, Marinette was crying happy tears. 

He thinks of me like that.

The audience’s applause seemed to die down and Sonny was able to speak up again.

“Truly beautiful wording. But that didn't really answer the question.��� Sonny pointed out. She smiled as she noticed something on his cheek that was pointing away from the camera.

“Seems the make up crew missed a spot. There seems to be some lip gloss on your cheek there.” Sonny stated with glee. “And what a familiar shade it is.”

Adrien and Marinette’s face’s shared the same red blush and their thoughts were in sync.

OH FUCK!

“And we will find out more about that and answer some fan questions... When we come back!” Sonny answered as she closed out for commercial.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Oh wow things are really getting interesting.” Nino commented to himself as he was watching Tv and the interview went into commercial. “Good on Marinette for making a move.”

He decided to support his friend by watching the interview, at first it was pretty dull, until Adrien started talking about him and their friends. Of course that host smelled blood in the water and she kept on attacking. He notices his phone buzz. It was a text from Alya.

‘Open the door asap!’

Oh crap! Did I forget something important! Think Nino, is today her birthday? No that is next month. Anniversary? No that was last month. What did I mess up?

Nino opened the door to see his rather furious Girlfriend at the door.

“Hey Babe have you been watching Adrien’s interview? Things are really... is something wrong?” Nino asked cautiously.

“First, is anyone home aside from you?” Alya asked, talking with an eerie calm.

“Are you planning on Killing me?” Nino asked trying to pretend like he was joking.

“Not you, you are wonderful. Someone else.” Alya assured.

“Oh, then yea. Its just me.”

“Okay good.” Alya smiled for a second before closing the door before letting her emotions out. “THAT TWO FACED BITCH LIED TO OUR FACE!”

Nino was shocked. “Wait who?”

“Lila! She blatantly lied to our faces! She told us that she was sorry, that it was a simple error in judgment. That she was doing this to help Marinette and Adrien! It was all a load of crap! My Intuition was picking up on this but I ignored it because I didn't have proof. But now I have proof!” Alya raved.

“Babe, deep breaths. What proof?” Nino tried to ease.

“You are gonna wanna sit down for this.” Alya stated. _______________________________________________________________________

Lila felt her fist tremble as she watched that interview. She was disgusted by his praise of Ladybug, how he kept so calm and collected, but then, then he started talking about Marinette. He was practically saying he worshiped the ground she walked on and then just to add insult to injury, that comment about Lip gloss.

The brunette wanted to scream, but her emotions seemed to cool when she noticed Adrienne’s reaction.

“Who is that bitch!?” Adrienne shouted as she shot up from the couch. “How come she gets to get so close to Adrien!? How come he is practically singing her praises! Just because she is a designer? I designed all of these banners! I designed the Adriknight Logo!” 

“Adrienne... Please calm down, I don't think they are dating. He would have clarified it if they were.” Maggie tried to ease.

Lila felt her rage turn to sinister inspiration.

“Oh Adrienne, I am really sorry to tell you this, but they are.” Lila spoke with a saddened tone.

The three other girls looked at Lila with wide eyes. As if saying ‘What have you done’

“WHAT!?! That can't be true. You are lying!” Adrienne cried out.

Lila walked over.

“They started dating a few days ago, after they got matched up in Soulmate Searcher.”

Adrienne felt her knees wobble.

“Thats not possible... I made an account, I would have showed up on his list if he had one.” Adrienne answered.

Lila pulled out her phone and showed her a photo, one that showed Adrien’s list.

“Adrien sent me this when he told me they started dating.” Lila lied as she let the girl look at the photo closely.

“Adrienne please don't listen to her. It is obviously a joke!”

“Oh, I wish it was. Marinette is a nasty manipulative shrew that is only dating Adrien because she wants him to help launch her fashion career. The poor boy doesn't even realize it.” Lila spoke into Adrienne’s ear.  “I am convinced she rigged it to get 100%, after all, no one else has ever gotten 100%. But poor naive Adrien was so trusting of the app that he just couldn't help but give it a chance.”

Tears began to stream down the club president’s cheeks.

“Adrien... but he .... but we...” Adrienne tried to articulate as she dropped Lila’s phone. She ran into the bathroom and started sobbing.

The three other girls ran after their club president as Lila picked up her phone. She snagged an Adrien cupcake and took a bite out of it, before casually walking out of the room. Lila was going to make her way to the studio.

Enjoy your gift Hawkmoth. I need to go get that recording.

_______________________________________________________________________

A window opened letting the light into a dark room. A man in a grayish silver mask and a purple suit stood in a room filled with White butterflies.

“Ah, obsession, The crazy sister of the emotion of Love. The tears and absolute anguish of a heartbroken fan who finds herself separated from the object of her affections. How tragic. It seems Miss Rossi has blessed me with a gift.” Hawkmoth monologued as he opened his hand allowing a white butterfly to land. He infused the white butterfly with his power turning it into an akuma

“Go my Akuma, find the source of that powerful negative emotion and evilize her” The villain exclaimed as he sent out the akuma from his hand and let it fly into Paris.

_______________________________________________________________________

Adrienne wept on the floor of her bathroom as her friends tried to get her to come out. She was clutching her bag of homemade Adriknight pins as she cried.

“Adrien... you belong to all of us... not that evil witch...” She sniffled as she let her sorrow take hold. The akuma flew through the small bathroom window and possessed the bag. Adrienne sat up and her face now had a purple butterfly outline over her face.

“Fandoom, I am Hawkmoth. Adrien is someone that can not be possessed by one individual, he deserves the praise and adoration of all of Paris. I am giving you the ability to expand your influence and power by recruiting more members for your cause. Show him that he deserves better. In exchange, you will deliver to me Ladybug and Chat noir’s Miraculous.”

The red head smiled darkly at the proposal. Adrien was not something that could belong to one person. If Adrien was taken away, then there would be no Adriknights, and then the club would dissolve. She couldn't let that happen!

“I accept Hawkmoth. I will show Adrien the love he deserves.”

Adrienne was covered in a purplish black mist transforming her into an akuma.

_______________________________________________________________________

Part 11 is finished I am so amazed by all of the amazing takes you guys have on Marinette’s outfit. So, I thought of something that would be cool if you guys are up for it. I want to see your guesses on what you think ‘Fandoom’ looks like. (This is completely optional and will not impact whether or not I write part 12. It would be super cool to see.)

Please Keep up that amazing feedback. I love seeing those notes and comments, It really feeds my impulsive need to write.

Below are all the people who are tagged. If you have not been tagged, and want to be tagged, or requested to be tagged and want to be from now on (PLEASE Check to make sure you are tagged in case there is an issue with the system):

@suzanaboss @chrissyl0v3 @changingmagz @black-cat-9000 @misscrimsonflame  @wegan97 @maddrag @lady13bug @franco-green @i-sttan @t-mblrwontletmehaveagoodname @miraculous-multishipper@assortedyeets @noirchengs @katzzz  @miyugaze@mindfulmagics@janaikam@wolfyred-ks @only1nycsweetie @aconi17 @miraculousl4dybug @origami-dreams @mellsrants @idekpeople@isingwhennobodyseesme@garfieldloganlovesrachel@mr-ray607@bromanticgigglefits @masked-bixch@starryarose@flightfoot @coccinellegirl@cheezuschryst @checkmeow @auroradraws @absolutelycoathangered@solar-flare-606@angelisalise

@the-tophatted-dinosaur @galaxies-of-fandoms @rasberrytears@gprattt001  @katthekitkat@myheadinthecloudsnotcomingdown@shayshaymonyou@un1cornf1ghter@mewwitch @lionxufia @obliviousasheck @princessofdawn0718@martasaur @jewelcuzimpreciousdamit@ariana-the-fangirl@whimsicallyconfusedforlife

@mr-adrien-swagreste@poptartpeter@kabih@howtoshuckatlife@theartistinbed@alyas-ladyblog @http-chatbug @blueflower45 @generictrashblog@certainmuffinbagelcalzone

@adricat-and-buginette@tylily@snow-swordswoman@rose-sparks13@wilhelmares @mintflavormelon @kphoe8 @mery-vhan27@skeletonmermaidlife@mermain123@chatnoirismycinnamonroll @here-in-the-corner@lidgraphy@kitzune701 @bowser14456@coccinellegirl@funstufffandomsandcoolpictures @red-pandas-and-books@jsaais@strangerahne @ladybub @zoe-oneesama@chimpcamp@galahadwilder @biacetrash @rose-sparks13 @dweeborg @communistchexmix @heizerux @fusselkuchen @shitposting-embodied @tigris-types @avatar-jenny-mac @xxxspacexxx @loving-neko @coltaire @seguin @ale-san28 @foreverrightnot @panda-charlotka @fanatic-kay  @random-posts-and-stuff @moodiecookie @dear-minette @adannayamiraculousbakes @lunamoonmint @lilbabygoose @kiara-rose-blackthorn @pendragonpotterwinchesterchief @kikisuteru @rominix11 @starlightky @theluckiestwitchathogwarts @cosmiccarrotcake @gargling-through-the-memes @theyellowfeverexperience @scurry-vampire @fan8687 @finnsauroraborealis @vi-bi-bye @silent-storms-posts @kmarinova @absolutelycoathangered @maggiethemagical12 @lexysama

[paperwick]

Dragon Age Tarot Style Guide: Part Two

The second of my at least three part set of tarot tutorials. This sentence will link to the first one on composition if you haven’t seen it. It’s been a four year gap between these, and I apologize for that. To all you who messaged me and reminded me of this project, thank you. You kept me from forgetting and I’m glad. <3

It won’t be another four years until I post the next segment, which will be pattern and texture focused. It’ll hopefully be in the next month or two. 

This is going to be a long post, so I’m putting it under the cut. Apologies to the mobile users! 

As a general disclaimer, this is an unofficial guide, I’ve never worked with Bioware. All of this is based on how I approach tarot design, my inspiration being heavily rooted in Dragon Age Inquisition’s companion card designs. 

Secondly, I know nothing about tarot. I tend to use http://www.ata-tarot.com/resource/cards/ heavily as a resource for my understanding of the cards and their meanings.You don’t need to know anything about tarot to do illustrations, just have as much fun as you can. <3 

So I typically work with a color composition in mind, but for those who are struggling to imagine a color scheme, my best advice for coming up with a palette is to just throw down some colors in this sort of an arrangement.

Your Main is going to be whats forming the base of the card, or it’ll be the most widely used color. Backgrounds usually make up the main, but sometimes it’s a foreground element or the character’s clothing. 

Your Cores are going to be colors that accent the base. You can make these pretty wild to be honest, but complementary colors and triads tend to work best for a balanced color composition. That’s what you’re trying to achieve with these--balance. Think about what’s drawing the most attention. The red in this example I did with the Iron Bull is very strong, and the teal I chose is fighting with it so my last color is something a bit more desaturated that accents the teal instead of picking another aggressive color, like a saturated yellow. 

The Accent or HL color is whatever you’re going to use to add the final focus notes. It will typically be your brightest or your most saturated color, though not always. Sometimes your HL color might be the darkest of the composition because your main and core colors are naturally bright. It should be used sparingly, or if you’re using a lot of it, focused in one area.

You can use more colors than this! For my example card with Bull, you can see I made his pants a sort of subdued yellow and added accents to the background and lit parts of his body in in different colors, But you’ll want to keep your major colors limited to keep it cohesive. If you start losing cohesion, I recommend using a gradient map over your picture set to multiply or soft light (not at 100%) to tone down your most divergent colors, and you can mask out areas where appropriate. 

This Bull card is one I made by picking my colors first then deciding on the content and composition. Color picking can be done first, or second as I’ve done with the rest of my examples. 

Card #1: Rayne Amell   [ @dracoangel​ ]

The Queen of Cups

This card went though several iterations with color, and the end product is less about story and more about atmosphere. The drawn composition reflects more of the story: she conceals her thoughts and feelings, but the world bends around her like water. I wanted to add more purple to this card, considering the character’s preference for it, so I skewed the color scheme in the final to be more purple. The first version probably makes for a more cohesive palette, but it lacks the same depth and drama as the one with purple. I added another core color to the second palette, which is totally okay to do. Sometimes the core palette might be 7 colors, sometimes it’s 2. The idea is to strike a balance. Colors that are super eye catching like the red in the scarf might better serve the composition as a lesser accent, whereas the purple core is a great fill because it’s fairly desaturated and doesn’t demand as much attention.

The HL color takes up a fair amount of this composition, but note that it’s strongest in the top two thirds, and is centered in the top third. The foreground water also cradles it against one of the darkest purples of the card, which helps center focus up top.

Card #2: Valora Lavellan [  @kylorensprettymuchanasshole​ ]

The Devil

This was the most difficult of the palettes, I’m working with two separate light sources in two wildly different locations. On the one side you’re at an ancient elvhen temple, on the other, in a burning chantry. It only made sense to have two different palettes for this composition. Where I really failed here was in not having a color that bridged the two sides. If you can engineer a color to be in between two differing palettes, you’re in a good place. 

With that in mind, I revisited the thumbnail. 

The execution is a little weak, but the idea works. The bridge color could work in either of the palettes and is a midway point between the two most similar values of the core colors. It’s used primarily where the separate palettes meet each other smoothing that transition. In this instance, it also helps to define the figure and double down on where the focus is, since before it was fighting between the top left and bottom right corners. Now the focus works as a diagonal from one corner to the other.

Double palettes are hard, but can make for some truly dynamic color compositions.

Card #3: Iothari Mahariel [ @theuselesspotoo ]

Six of Swords

This card was a struggle for completely different reasons. The palette is pretty homogeneous, primarily purple, with a hint of green. This one could use far more variation, and the challenge is in driving interest with such a limited palette. This is where your values are going to be super important. Your darks vs lights are always hugely apart of composition, but in limited palettes they do the most work in driving interest. Make sure to break up some of your larger and more prominent shapes with value differences, the snow vs the dark stone beneath it.

If that isn’t enough though, there’s a few tricks that can help push focus where you want it without heavily changing the color scheme. 

We have three very distinct planes in this; the sky, the distant mountains and skyhold, and the cliff the figure is standing on. We can push the far mountain plane back by reducing the brightness of it, and we can pull the nearby plane closer by adding stronger highlights to the lit areas. I also brightened up the figure since they were getting lost in the sky a bit. 

In addition, I popped the foreground colors with just a bit more red, to separate that plane from the more bluish purple mountain plane. 

Just those small changes really sharpened up the focus of the composition, and we were able to keep the palette fairly limited. 

Card #4: Tighe Lavellan   [ @queen-scribbles​ ]

Nine of Wands

This palette was a breeze compared to the others. We’re working with complementary colors, reds versus greens, and very little divergence in either direction. The bottom half is primarily reds, the top greens, and they meet in the middle with a soft orange and harsh yellow. Palettes with complementary colors are the easiest to work with, the important part is making sure their balance works with your drawn composition because they like to fight. All of my reds are limited and desaturated because the greens and yellows, by the nature of the composition, are the most demanding elements. 

Card #5:  Lathari Lavellan [ @jisabeau​ ]

The Chariot

I knew what I wanted for this one immediately when I started it. I really wanted the character to be falling into a void, to mirror their emotional crisis when dealing with the deadly white bear of their past. But though this works fairly well as a base palette, it’s really missing the intense horror I wanted when I started. 

So in my edits I pulled them further apart, and pushed the darks even further. The challenge here is having a dual focus, since I don’t really know if either stand out enough from one another at this phase. I have to pick a focus, either the bright whites of the bear or the strong orange/green tones of the character. 

This is probably the strongest focus-wise.

But I enjoy the color notes of this one far more. 

The point here is, sometimes things aren’t perfect, and that’s also okay. Pick your favorite, or at least pick one, and take that to completion. It’ll occur to you while finishing it what I needs. Which brings us to the final point, similar to that of tutorial part one: 

Final Note: Don’t spend overlong on one thumbnail. I’ve spent days in the thumbnailing stage, that’s fine, but don’t spend more than 1 hour on any one color thumbnail drawing; it’s not worth it. If an idea is good but not great, just start a new thumbnail of something similar, and you’ll stumble onto the right composition.

Remember to explore your own color intuition. My way of doing this might be helpful, but if it’s not, don’t feel compelled to follow it. Everyone has a unique vision, and we’ve got to feel out our own paths. 

If you have any questions, send them to paperwick [at] gmail [dot] com under the heading “Color Tutorial: Questions”, OR comment on this post (I might not see them on a reblog) and I’ll pool them into one area and answer as many as I can in a separate post.

Finally, I’d like to give another shout out to everyone who sent their character breakdowns to me for this. I wish I had time to get to all of them, and I really appreciate you taking the time to put them together! Thank you all so much!

Not making promises on when Part Three will come out, but it WILL be coming out. Thanks for reading through all this, I hope it’s been helpful. 

[notcanoncompliant]

Panty Lines

(Background: The snap happened, got reversed in like six months, Tony didn't die and everything's fine. Endgame? What Endgame?)

**

Peter's doing this because he's curious; he's got chronic science brain, the natural inclination to know.

That's why he's wearing these white lace boyshorts.

Buying them had been a clinical operation: he'd picked the safest option to start, a decent middle ground between 'boxer briefs' and 'panties' (he still can't say the word out loud without his face heating up) to ease himself into the idea. It'd still taken a few more days for him to actually put them on, but now that he has...

He can't stop looking.

Sinful, he thinks, the word inspiring a bloom of embarrassed excitement as he twists a little shyly in front of the full-length mirror. It's not a quality he's ever attributed to himself (or to anything, really), but it's...well, it fits.

The panties are weightless, delicate white contouring perfectly to his hips and his thighs and the curve of his ass. His pale skin looks faintly tan in comparison where it peeks out through the intricate detailing.

He lowers a hand to tentatively run fingertips over the swell at the front, and the touch is translated, magnified, in equal parts by the fabric itself and the thrill of the moment. When he looks up, he sees pink spread across his face and down his bare chest.

Flushed and wide-eyed, sporting a semi, he feels daring and electric; he wants someone to see, wants someone to follow the path of his blush themselves, kiss their way down to that line where pale skin transitions into intricate lace. Kiss him through it.

Would it feel like this? A light brush of lips, the rasp of a goatee--

It's only the tinny call of his cell phone alarm that stops him from beginning to explore in earnest.

He turns away from the reflection with some effort.

As he changes into a regular pair of boxer briefs and pulls on his jeans, he considers playing hooky for the first time since he started at MIT.

*

By the time classes are out and Peter gets back to his apartment, he's mentally exhausted (as usual) but happy (as usual for Thursday nights, specifically). It's his night off from patrol, and the only thing he has to expend energy towards is his call with Tony, later.

They've had the ritual going since the reversal of the snap: one call a week, same day, same time. It used to be just a phone call, but Peter had accidentally pressed video call the one time, so now they talk via webcam and he gets to see Tony every Thursday evening.

He's going about his standard pre-call tidying (picking up only the area of the living room that's visible via webcam, so what) when he finally gives up avoiding the idea scratching at the back of his thoughts.

The panties are in his bedroom, folded at the bottom of his underwear drawer...but they could be on him, instead.

He's been low key dying to put them back on since he took them off, wondering if it'll feel the same (of course it will, but what if it doesn't) and what it's like to just...walk around. Just wear them.

Pausing his half-assed cleaning, Peter goes in and changes. Sheds his jeans and boxer briefs and slips back into the lace with something like nervous anticipation. They do feel the same, still light and secure, still look like fresh snow against his pale skin.

He leaves his t-shirt on and wanders back out to the living room to finish up. He has an hour; he could keep them on for a little while and change before Tony calls--

But he wouldn't have to change, or cover up; he sits at his desk in front of the computer the whole time, so it isn't like Tony can see anything below the waist in the webcam. Peter could sit there for an hour, squirming in his new panties while Tony carries on obliviously about his day and his projects and whatever weird articles or memes FRIDAY's been showing him.

And maybe Peter could 'remember' something he wanted to show Tony, so he'd get up and Tony would see.

What would he say if he saw them--

But Peter absolutely can't do that. They're friends, now, close, platonic friends, and he kind of feels like an ass for even considering throwing a white, lacy wrench into things.

Tony finally talks to him; real, actual sharing of feelings and thoughts, no more hiding out of some misguided belief that Peter can't handle seeing his mentor as anything less than divine, like he hasn't always known that Tony's a deeply flawed human being and loved him anyway.

He's even said it; those three words. Said it a couple months in, the first time he accepted a video call to see a shaking, pale version of Tony who let out a hoarse sob and cried relieved tears as soon as he saw Peter's face.

They hadn't actually done much talking that night; Peter had just sat close to the laptop, tears trickling down his own face as Tony told him he was so glad Peter was alive, that he got him back. They'd spent minutes crying silently, Tony's eyes roving over Peter's face like he was memorizing him.

The "I love you, Tony," had slipped out quietly, thoughtlessly, and Peter'd felt poignant elation when Tony had given him a small, shaky smile and said "I love you, too, kid."

....So, yeah. They're friends.

Friends that don't talk about the way Peter still blushes whenever Tony compliments him on, well, anything. Friends that absolutely don't mention how Tony stumbles a little over his words if Peter answers a call shirtless. Friends that...

There's a muffled metallic chunking sound as the deadbolt turns, and apparently they're the kind of friends that don't knock, because Tony's striding into his apartment like he owns the place (he technically does, and it totally doesn't do things to Peter if he thinks about it too much).

"Hey kid, surprise--Oh. Huh." Tony's brows shoot up towards his hairline, and Peter yanks the hem of his shirt down to try to cover himself.

"Jesus, Tony, hi, what're you--you're supposed to knock--"

"I see that now. I'm seeing a lot of things. What're you wearing?"

There's a safe way to handle this; Peter could go pull on some sweatpants, tell Tony that he's doing the college experiment thing, laugh it off and blush while Tony gives him shit. They can eat dinner and catch up in person, and this could become another thing they never talk about. Because they're not the friends that talk about this.

Peter clears his throat, and doesn't do the safe thing.

"Panties," he answers, face heating as he releases the hem of his shirt, "obviously."

"Obviously," Tony parrots, his eyes glued blatantly to Peter's lower half.

They're still hovering at that line, the one that exists in wordless agreement. There's still a chance for one of them to back off. But Peter's not thinking about that.

He's thinking about his sudden, desperate need to know how Tony might feel about the way his blush spreads all the way down to his chest. He's wondering if that stupid pornographic adjective would drift through his friend's brain, what other words might be there in its place.

And now he's thinking about how Tony's not even moving, just staring at him, so Peter's going to have to be the one to cross that stupid line.

His shirt hits the floor with a soft flump.

"So, what do you think? Because I think I like them," Peter says, proud of the way his voice is only a little strained.

Tony's gaze is disbelieving and conflicted and hot, practically a physical touch as it drags up Peter's body.

"Do you really want to know?" Tony asks.

He's looking into Peter's eyes, now, searching his face, and the small intimacy erases the last dregs of doubt Peter didn't even realize were still there.

"Yeah, I really do," he says.

****

Might do a second part, let me know if I should 😘