#OKAY IT GOT ANGSTY

[doctorsiren]

paint it over

[miusato]

Idk why but I was thinking of Shinjiham angst earlier but then it quickly spiral into "Hmm what if one of the important plot in this stupid AU is Shinjiro breaking his arm either because of himself or 100% because of Aki???" So I just drew this because uhhh I can i guess lol

Anyway without fiter below :3

[themiraclefish]

What if..

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(GabeNath mini comic 2)

Warning this is a bit angsty lol

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*/And spoiler alert, this takes place after the last episode of season 5

[ninyard]

"if you can't figure it out by now, then i don't have anything else to tell you."

This would be perfect for Andrew to say to Neil

“If you can’t figure it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you,”

(aka an Andreil “what are we?” conversation.)

-

“Allison hasn’t stopped calling you my boyfriend since we got back from the cabins.” Neil was sat parallel to Andrew with his arms wrapped around his knees in a meagre attempt at keeping warm, next to Andrew’s outstretched legs. The air on the roof of the dorms was crisp with a fresh Spring breeze, the wind swirling debris in little whirls around them. “I haven’t told her to stop, but I will if it bothers you. ”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about for the last twenty minutes?” Andrew asked, a rhetorical air to the question he didn’t really want answered at all. The smoke that left his lips disappeared quickly in the wind, miraculous that his cigarette was still burning. He brought it back up to his lips and inhaled before turning to look at Neil. He didn’t say anything, and his bored gaze didn’t say much either.

“It’s Allison.” Neil settled for, as if it were explanation enough. He sat up straight to match Andrew’s eye-line. “It’ll catch on.”

Andrew regarded Neil for only a second longer before turning back towards the view in front. “She has never strayed far from being a tabloid princess. It’s nothing more than front page news to her.”

“I told you she was betting on us,” Neil said, but Andrew held up a finger to stop him. “What?”

“Their poor choices in gambling are not my business.” He said, stubbing out the finished cigarette next to him and flicking the butt over the edge. His hands found rest in his lap, interlaced into each other. “They chose a horse in a race and think that they’ve won. I don’t care.”

“Tell me to ask her to stop, then.” Neil looked away as well, arms crossed over his chest, close to asking Andrew to go inside. They could talk in their dorm, except for the fact that Kevin had surprisingly invited Matt over to discuss his playing strategy, and this was not the kind of conversation Neil wanted to have with company. They could speak in German; but he’d made a conscious effort to speak in English in front of his teammates since he promised not to keep secrets from them anymore. “Say the word and I’ll tell her, because I don’t care.”

“Evidently not.” Andrew said. “Why bring it up if you didn’t?”

“Well, does it?” Neil didn’t want to indulge in his desire to dodge his questions by changing the subject. “Bother you, I mean.”

“Irrelevant bullshit doesn’t bother me.” Andrew pedantically emphasised the word bother with quotation marks in the air. “You’re asking stupid questions.”

“Valid questions.” Neil corrected.

“Needless questions.”

Neil sighed and extended his legs. He had to brush the hair from out of his eyes to look over at Andrew, reminding himself that he needed a haircut. “I’ll tell her to stop, then.”

“That is not what I said.” Andrew brushed him off with a wave of his hand.

“So are you my boyfriend?” Neil wasn’t sure why he cared so much, or if he even cared at all, because he knew in truth he would never go out of his way to call Andrew his boyfriend anyway. But in some ways it felt important to understand what was really happening, and how exclusive was their nothing? In his own mind, never to be spoken aloud, did Andrew even believe that they were a thing?

Andrew looked at him, his gaze falling from the top of Neil’s head to the bottom of his chest and back up again. He tilted his head, and landed on Neil’s eyes. After a small inhale, he nodded forward, “No.”

Even expecting it, even knowing that was what he was always going to say, it still felt like a surprise punch to his stomach. That’s what Andrew had done to him, he’d turned him soft, he’d turned him into someone with an interest in normality. He’d turned him into someone who longed for a boyfriend and a life, a home, a future, even if his stomach twisted at the thought.

He pushed down the tiny feeling of disappointment that radiated through his gut, and smiled, “Okay.” Andrew didn’t look away, but he remained silent, and Neil filled the space with a question he knew he shouldn’t ask, but had to ask anyways, “So what are we?”

“You are living inside a movie.” Andrew didn’t laugh, but Neil was sure that the desire to was buried somewhere beneath his stoic expression. “Is that how far removed you’ve become in your freedom, that you think that is something you have to ask me?” He shuffled himself over so he was better facing Neil, and he glanced between his eyes. “We are nothing.”

“A truth?” Neil tested.

“Fuck off,” Andrew poked Neil’s chest hard enough to hurt. “That is the truth.”

“So I’ll tell Allison to stop.” Neil’s head bowed in an over exaggerated nod of understanding. “I’ll tell her that you are not my boyfriend, and you don’t want to be called that. I’ll tell her you said that.”

“I hope that is not supposed to be a threat.” Neil had hoped his response would be more telling, but Andrew continued with, “Would you like to be called my boyfriend?” His tone was less inquisitive than it was mocking, the slightest grimace in his face telling Neil that he hated even saying it.

“I don’t know.” Neil reached a hand out towards Andrew, pausing for a silent glance of approval from him before he placed it on his chest, playing with the strings of the black hoodie he wore. “I’m mostly tired of not knowing what I mean to you.” Andrew’s expression hardened into something resembling annoyance as he continued to speak. “I’m not asking you to call me your boyfriend, okay? I just want to know if you‘re going to meet another guy, and think it’s okay to get him off, because we’re not together.”

Andrew didn’t move to reciprocate the touch Neil had given him, but raised an eyebrow at the hypothetical. “It sounds like it would be a problem for you if I did.”

Neil matched his stare and coolness in his response, “And what if it is?”

“This is an entirely unproductive conversation to have,” Andrew rested a wrist on Neil’s shoulder and brushed a piece of hair back behind his neck. A small but meaningful gesture that perhaps was given in lieu of ensuring Neil that his example would never happen. “I will not give you the pleasure of reassurance. If you haven’t figured it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you.”

“How can I figure it out, when you keep telling me it doesn’t exist?” Neil’s voice was low, and Andrew’s sigh meant he heard the gentleness in it. He heard the way Neil hadn’t meant to sound so pleading, the words leaving his lips in such a way that felt like a desperate whisper for answers. “I want to hear you say it.”

Andrew looked down at the hair by Neil’s neck. “You know that I won’t.”

“Then tell me that we’re not just fucking for fun.”

Andrew dropped his hand and pushed Neil off, seemingly thrown by his bluntness. His laugh was a single short breath, not a semblance of a smile or humour in it. He shook his head as he took a cigarette from the packet he’d pulled from his pocket. Once the cigarette was placed between his lips, he stopped with the lighter a few inches away from his face, pointing the fire starter at Neil. “Well, we’re certainly not fucking for love.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Neil watched as he struggled to ignite the lighter, hand cupped around the flame, the wind set on blowing it out. After the third unsuccessful try, Neil reached forward to help him shield it with both his hands, until three short puffs in from Andrew told him it was lit. Andrew leaned back and exhaled. He watched as Neil pulled his hands away.

“You want to know if I’m going to get bored of you, then.” He said through smoke. Andrew adjusted himself to tuck one of his legs beneath the other, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You want to know if I have feelings, is that it?”

Neil shrugged his shoulders and looked at his hands. “Maybe.”

Neil listened as Andrew let out another smoky exhale. He cleared his throat, and when Neil thought he might speak, he instead filled his lungs again. There was no need to flick off the ash as the wind did that job for him, but from instinct he did it anyway. He let out another humourless laugh, two short puffs following in order to keep the stick lit. Andrew was not looking at Neil as he lifted his eyes to watch him, Andrew’s hazel gaze fixed on something in the distance. Using the thumb and index finger of his free hand he wiped the sides of his lips, tensing his jaw like the words took it out of him just to say. “Fuck you for even asking.”

The tug in Neil’s chest was impossible to ignore. It felt wrong to hear Andrew’s voice wrapped around those words, words that separately read like an insult, yet meant something different to their original form when he uttered them. Like watching a fish out of water, like listening to a mime sing; to have these moments of vulnerability from Andrew were as beautiful as they were rare. He hadn’t intended to steer their conversation to the place where it had landed, and part of him felt guilty as he watched Andrew silently struggle through the side of himself he swore did not exist. The side of Andrew that kept itself buried six feet below, hidden from anyone who asked, except for Neil, who’d been digging a hole for months trying to find it.

“When you put a name to something it gives it permanency, yet an opportunity to end,” Andrew sat up and moved closer to Neil, finding his position with one knee in between his legs, sitting back on a spot on the lower half of Neil’s thigh. He threw the cigarette somewhere behind him as he settled. Taking Neil’s hair into his fists, he examined the look on his face with his lips slightly pursed. He considered his words and took one hand out of Neil’s hair to hold his chin up, making sure he was listening. “You label it however you wish. I will not. Do you understand?”

Neil nodded, afraid to speak, as if any words insufficient would cause Andrew to change his mind about where he rested his body weight. It was reassurance enough that he’d found his way there, and that he remained, comfortable by his own volition.

“And for the record, Abram,” Andrew leaned in close, wisps of his hair tickling Neil’s face, his breath hot as he left a gentle kiss on his jawline. Neil shut his eyes and breathed in the moment, hiding his fists in the pocket of Andrew’s hoodie. “To answer the question you so annoyingly want answered,” He left another kiss higher up on his jaw, brushing his lip against his ear lobe as he moved, slowly, so gently Neil was both afraid he would fall apart, or that he would be able to feel his quickly beating heart through his skin. The hand that had sat in his hair moved to cup the opposite side of his face, the other tucking Neil’s hair behind his ear and holding him by his neck. Neil couldn’t help but shiver as he whispered in his ear, “I will not be fucking anyone else, and I am not just fucking you for fun. Happy?”

Neil nodded as he turned into his lips, melting into the kiss that warmed him up as the wind persisted. His hands pulled out of the hoodie pocket, and he tapped Andrew’s neck for permission to hold him. When Andrew hummed with a barely there nod, he hooked his hands around the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

There were a million things Neil could label Andrew;

Terrifying but caring. Gentle while violent.

Beautiful, like something that deserved to be hung on a wall, yet so precious Neil wished nobody else could see.

Rough. Jagged.

Talented. Human.

Misunderstood, perhaps. Genuine, most of the time.

When he thought about Andrew, there were a million things he could identify him as before landing on Neil’s boyfriend.

He would not tell Allison to stop, nor correct Nicky when he joined in. He would not say it out loud, either, as if their nothing that is something was so sacred it couldn’t be uttered. It was a relief of course to know that Andrew was his, and though he felt embarrassment rush through his blood at the idea of it, he was certain that what they had both found in each other was glaringly rare and hauntingly perfect. He noticed how perfect they fit together in each others space, lips on lips, hands on skin, and wondered how he ever doubted this was it; that this was real.

He was sure that no one else could experience such a thing.

[vala-dreams]

I've recently been noticing some angermanagement (jason/jazz) ship posts on my dash.

And my brain only saw the potential family dynamic in those posts. Like,,,just consider this,,,, jazz grows up, moves to Gotham to work as a therapist, her highly traumatized recently dissected non aging little brother follows her. Jazz meets Jason, Danny's happy that Jazz's happy and still is very traumatized. Jason and Jazz grow closer and Jazz introduces Jason to Danny. She introduces Danny as her recently orphaned little cousin and mentions nothing about ghosts.

Danny has a LOT of trust issues and so does Jason so their first few series of meetings are awkward as hell. But they do get along eventually and it turns out Bryce's genes did carry over and he ends up sort of adopting Danny.

Until one day, Jason sees Danny hurt himself while chopping vegetables (or smth idk) and instead of red blood, green ectoplasm flows out of the wound. Jason recognizes that as something distinctly almost like the Lazarus pits and has an internal freakout.

And then he connects some dots on Jazz's polka dot dress and comes to the conclusion that Danny must be Damien's brother or relative (because they look just so alike) who was experimented on by the league and that Jazz, who also was part of the league, managed to grab Danny and run away.

And to him, that explains everything. It explains how Jazz fights like she has real world experience, it explains why she's distressed leaving Danny alone for even short amounts of time, it explains Danny's sheer reluctance to trust anyone other than Jazz, why he assess every room he enters and his absolute fear of hospitals.

And oh,,,Jason is going to murder Ra's Al Ghul

[jasmines-library]

Cry, Little Sister.

- - - - -☽───⛧ ༺♰༻ ⛧───☾ - - - -

“Drink it. Be one of us.”

———————————————————————

Summary: You’d lived in Santa Carla all your life and it was boring. That was until you and your brothers discovered that there might be vampires about. When an attempt to kill the lost boys goes awry, and you end up becoming a vampire yourself, things become very messy when you join your brothers -who are vampire hunters- in a second attempt to rid your town of killers where you sacrifice your secret to save your friends, your brothers are not forgiving.

Warnings: Near death experience, blood, violence, killing, vampires, staking.

Word Count: 6.1k

Note: It’s finally here! This was a result of my poll that I posted a few weeks back, I’m sorry it’s taken a while. This is a lot longer that I planned but overall I’m pretty proud of it. Apologies if there are any major mistakes, or the formatting is off, it i was doing this on my phone and it was playing up. I redid it a few times but by that point it was 1am and I couldn’t be asked. Please let me know. I hope you enjoy.

Santa Carla was odd. You’d lived there all your life and yet you still couldn’t shake the weirdness that clung to your skin as you roamed the streets or the strange smell that lingered in the humid summer air. The boardwalk was busy during the day, but it was Santa Carla’s night life that really captured your interest. Everywhere became filled with colourful lights and interesting people and the sound of engines revving that ricocheted down alleyways. They were all unique characters and they appeared to be around your age. They were spritely and even in the few times you’ve encountered them there never seemed to be a dull moment. You never seemed to see them anywhere other than the boardwalk; that was unless you were looking for them intentionally. You’d spoken to them a few times, you’d occasionally bump into them on your break, though not much was ever exchanged between you. It was a rare occasion for them to come into your store. It made sense though, you didn’t think that comic books would potentially interest someone of their physique, but nevertheless here they were, running their fingers across the rows of coloured paper. As they moved, others seemed to slink away; there was an unsaid air around these boys. Your brothers thought they were vampires. You could see their harsh gazes from the other side of the store: firm and unforgiving. They were both in their mid-teens and wore a constant expression of fatigue on their face; a result of staying up too late brainstorming stupid ideas to take the vampires down. You and your brothers spent a long time researching and planning. You knew there had to be an explanation to the hundreds of missing posters plastered on every nook and cranny of the boardwalk. It was fun, sure, but you seeked something else. Your body itched for something different. A release. You knew it wasn’t a waste of time though. Vampires were tricky, they struck when they wanted and when you least expect it. They’re difficult to survive, but not impossible. You just have to be smarter than them. As they crept around the store, you found your hand edging its way towards the vial of holy water you kept tucked in between your belt. One of them, who had wild blond hair and looked almost like Twisted Sister, chucked a handful of 25c comics into the counter. He leaned forwards onto the splintering wood with a grin on his face. As he pulled out a handful of coins and tossed them next to his comics, his friends sauntered over. They were all tall, wild and their eyes twinkled mischievously. You slipped the change into the register and began to package the handful of comics when Twisted Sister had begun to lose interest, and took to wrestling with another blonde who wore a bold patchwork jacket. One of them glanced at the others before taking a long drag from his cigarette. This one wasn’t as tall as some of the others. His hair was bleached to the point it was almost white and it was cut so that his mullet rested just above his shoulders and clung to his neck.

“So. What’s your name doll?” His voice was husky and something about it compelled you to answer.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He drawled, rolling your name around his mouth. “Hm.”

“You gonna tell me yours or…?”

“David.” He breathed, taking another drag. “That’s Paul. Marko. Dwayne.” He gestured to the other three. At the mention of his name, Paul rushed over and scooped up his comics, winking at you. Your fingers traced the rim of the holy water. It was cool to the touch and you could feel the individual rivets of the plastic lid as you circled it. Your hand slid back into your pocket.

“You free tonight?” David asked suddenly, cocking his head. He paused for a minute as though he was trying to find the right words. Or make up the right lie. “I only ask because we were thinking of having a little fun by the boardwalk. You look bored.”

Edgar and Alan edged closer, weaving between the boxes of comics, craning their heads to listen in. You smirked. “I get off at 10.”

“Perfect.” David said smugly. “We’ll see you at 10.” With that, the four of them turned and left, Paul swinging the plastic bag beside him. People scattered away to form a path out of the shop. The whole store seemed to sigh in relief once they were out of sight. It didn’t take long for your brothers to approach with volatile looks set firmly upon their faces.

“What the hell Y/N?!” Edgar slammed his palms on the counter, causing the wood to rattle on its uncertain frame. His face was set in a hard stare, his eyes bore into yours, covered slightly by a loose bunch of hair that spilled over the top of his bandana. “You’re not only conversing with the enemy now, but you’re partying with them too?”

A smile crept onto your face and you shook your head, pulling loose the clear vial and placing it in front of him. “Think smarter. Not harder, little brother. You doubt me too much.”

~~~

By the time you’d finished your shift, and you had managed to convince your brothers to go home, the crowds had died down slightly, though you could still feel the heavy rhythm of the bass that shook the ground coming from the concert on the boardwalk and the screams of thrillseekers on the roller coasters. The smell of food lingered in the air and the soft hues of cracking fires danced around the beach. You found the boys gathered around a fire just besides the pier. Rock music blared from the stereo half buried in the sand as you arrived. Paul and Marko were prancing around, banging their heads to the fast pace of the music, kicking sand around as they went, sometimes aiming it at each other if they felt spiteful. David stood, brooding in the corner, obscured by the light, he seemed deep in concentration. His blue eyes darkened when he saw you approaching. It was Dwayne who welcomed you, moving over from his perch on a log to make space from you. Marko slid in beside you, snatching a joint from Paul before offering it around. You took a drag and passed it on.

“So. Y/N.” Dwayne said. “How long have you been in Santa Carla?”

Someone's arm snaked around your waist, the leather was cool, but the hand that came from it was icy cold and caused your skin to prick up. “I’ve lived here all my life.” You told him simply.

“Uh-huh. And uh,” he furrowed his brow, turning to face you, “how long have you been hunting Vampires?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Marko removed his arm from behind you and pulled out the vial of holy water. “You really think this is gonna stop us?” He pouted mockingly before unscrewing the lid, tipping out the contents into the sand and throwing the bottle back at you with an unexpected force. It landed harshly in your lap. You scrambled back, reaching for the small pocket knife your brothers insisted you keep on you. It wouldn’t do much but maybe delay them for a couple of seconds. Your hands patted around aimlessly for it in your pocket, frantically searching for it until David dangled it in front of your face. Trying to turn and run, your body collided with Dwayne’s chest.

“Leaving so soon?” Looking up, you were met with his golden eyes and bared fangs. He gripped you by the arms tightly, whipping you round and pulling you close to him so you couldn’t move. You struggled pointlessly in his grasp, trying to get away from the wild faces that mocked you. David traced the knife along your jawline.

“Such a pity.”

“You’re such a babe Y/N. It’s a shame you’ll go to waste.” Paul said, circling round you, studying you closely. “I bet you would have fit right in.”

“It’s a shame you stuck with your brothers.” Marko said. “You would have made a powerful ally.”

Something in your mind clicked, and it was almost as though the world had suddenly become clear, as though this was the obvious answer to everything. “So make me.”

~

You shifted the bottle between the palms of your clammy hands. It felt foreign, yet so right at the same time. The jewels glistened in the light of the fire, distracting you from the crimson liquid that sloshed around inside. David's eyes bore into yours, it made your skin crawl and your body shift uncomfortably. You could feel the other three pairs of eyes on you, soaking in the anticipation of your next move.

“Drink it.” David urged. “Be one of us.”

You twisted the cork from the top of the bottle and watched as the people around you perked up at the smell of it. You placed the cold glass to your lips and without a second thought, took a swig from the bottle.

“Bravo!” David cheered, pulling the bottle away from your lips and taking a sip of it for himself. There was something about that moment that made you feel whole. The thrill you had been wanting, this was it. Your face lit up with a wild grin and Paul slung his arm around your shoulder.

“Welcome to the club.”

It was a strange feeling. The world seemed different, sharper like someone had begun to focus a camera. The rest of the night went by in a blur, you remember partying and music, but not much else besides that. You don’t know how, but soon you were wiped out in your bed.

~~~

“Get up.”

The sun that pierced through the window caused your head to throb and your eyes to burn as you struggled to adjust to it. Alan stood over your bed, a pillow raised in his hands as Edgar tugged open your curtains letting the remainder of the light flood into the room. You groaned and covered your eyes with your arm as the headache increased tenfold.

“Jesus, Y/N.” Alan complained as you sat up slowly. “What the hell were you doing last night?”

“Hmm?” you asked groggily. The light was messing with your head.

“Did you get them?” Edgar asked, rather excitedly.

“No.” You shook your head, fumbling towards your bathroom. Your brothers were close behind. “Give me time. I’ll get to know them.” You stood in the doorway to the bathroom, leaning against the frame. Edgar narrowed his eyes at you and watched you closely. “Can I go?”

His gaze lingered for a moment, but he grunted and turned away tugging his older brother with him. When you closed the bathroom door, turning the lock behind you, you splashed your face with water from the sink. It was cool against your skin and trailed off in little droplets. When you peered up at your face in the mirror, it was paler than usual as though it were winter and not the scolding summer Santa Carla was currently facing. Besides a slight paleness in your skin, you looked fine, though your head was pounding like a constant, droning beat of a drum. You squinted, trying to remember last night's events. Something about it made your skin crawl. You had this gut feeling that something wasn’t going to end well, that someone was going to get hurt. You swallowed thickly. Your brothers were safe. You could protect them if the time came. If you failed.

It took a while, but when you finally left the shelter of your house, the sun had long gone past its peak point in the sky and was dipping below the horizon. How long had you been asleep? It was Saturday, the peak of the summer and so the boardwalk was crammed. The shop was busy and the small fan at the back of the store did nothing against the sweltering heat. Your eyes kept dancing around the room in search of wild blond hair, or the sheen of leather but to your avail, they only glazed across mops of mousy hair and beach wear. One person did catch your eye however. He was young, perhaps your brothers’ age and was browsing the superman comics. His face was soft and adorned with freckles. It was his clothes however that struck you the most. They were sheek and brightly coloured, with odd patterns. Clearly not from around here. You watched as your brothers approached him closely, trying to engage him in conversation. Outside, a group had gathered, pushing and shoving each other wildly. Emerging from behind the desk, you made your way closer to them and the teenage boys.

“Where the hell are you from,” Edgar asked rather unenthusiastically. “Krypton?”

“Phoenix. Actually.” He replied. You stopped in your tracks near them, listening in discretely. Edgar moved, with his hands in his pockets, towards a row of comics. He plucked one from the rack and handed it to the boy. It was a pale blue edition of ‘Vampires Everywhere’.

The boy tutted and tried to hand it back to him. “I don’t like horror comics.”

“You’ll like this one, Mr Phoenix. It could save your life.”

Alan opened his mouth to speak, but the group outside noticed an opening and grabbed a handful of comics, taking off down the street. “Hey!” You cried, running after them. Edgar and Alan were right behind you, abandoning their new companion.

When the night had finally dulled down, you took a stroll along the beach. The sand shifted between your toes as you wandered. You weren’t entirely sure where you wanted to go, you were restless, wanting to be nowhere and everywhere all at once. When you saw the bikes knelt up against the railing however, you paused making your way over to the four boys. “Incoming.” Dwayne’s head snapped up as you approached, alerting everyone else to your presence. His eyes glistened under the moonlight. Paul and Marko were onto you within seconds, guiding you over to where they stood.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” David smirked. He seemed in a better mood tonight. Perhaps he felt less threatened now you were a half.

“I never received an invite.” You said, leaning against the cool metal of the railing.

“You’re welcome anytime, babe.” Paul smirked. You rolled your eyes.

“How you feelin’?” Marko chuffed, watching you closely.

Nodding, you smiled. “Ok.”

David swung his leg over his bike and took a seat. “You up for a ride?”

~

Out of all the places you expected David to take you, this was not it. It was an old hotel, sunken into the cliffs of Hudson's Bluff. It had clearly been like this for a while, you had heard the stories when you were younger, yet you had always heeded by the keep out signs posted out front. Clearly those didn’t interest the vampires as they whisked you straight down the narrow stairs, lighting barrels with a splint. When the fire cast a warm glow around the cave, you could really study its beauty. In the centre of the room was an old fountain, once a feature of the hotel. Though the room was messy, there was a sort of structure to it, with beams and tunnels leading off into the darkness. There were posters and cassettes strewn all over the room, likely Paul or Marko’s and the odd books neatly filed away. David took his perch on a wheelchair in the centre of the room. What surprised you the most about the space was the young, dark haired girl who made her way out from behind a lace curtain when she heard the rhythm of the guitar. An even smaller boy, no older than 10 clutched the ruffled of her purple skirt.

“Star.” David called out to the girl. She made her way into the room. “Come and join us. This is Y/N. The girl we told you about.”

She nodded at you bluntly, guiding the small boy into the room. His hair reminded you of your brothers, it was dark and fell over his face. To your surprise he came and sat down beside you. “Hi.” He grinned a toothy smile up at you.

You smiled back at him. “Hi.”

The boy cocked his head as though he were trying to purge you of your secrets. “They all seem to really like you.” He blurted. “David told me that-”

“Laddie.” Star interrupted, reprimanding him as you would either of your brothers. “Leave the poor girl alone. I’m sorry.”

“No, No. It’s okay.” You reached out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Y/N.”

“Star.”

There was an awkward silence that passed between you two, despite the fact that the room was filled with laughter and loud music. The small boy, Laddie, had stood up to prance around with Dwayne.

“Can I ask you something?” Star blurted out.

“Sure.”

“You’re a hunter, right?”

“I guess… I was.”

“Then why’d you drink it? Knowing what they are. What we are?”

“I wanted to protect my family, but…” You hesitated, unsure how to phrase how you felt. “When I'm around these people, I feel… whole. Like the excitement I've wanted my whole life has finally happened. When I’m around these people, I feel that.”

Star said nothing, just watched you close. She couldn’t understand why anyone would willingly put themselves through that, yet she seemed to soften a little at the thought that you wanted to protect your brothers. From across the room, David watched from his throne. He watched as you and Star exchanged stories, listening with his keen ears to the way your voice fluctuated when you got excited. He found a smile creeping onto his face. Perhaps you were more than they bargained for.

~~~

Tension was high in the air as the old blue Ford pulled up to the cliff. Sam and Michael had ‘borrowed’ it from their grandpa. The sun was high in the sky and your head was pounding. Your eyes drooped as you fought to keep them open beneath your sunglasses. Each day it grew harder and harder to fight the pull of the moon and the urge to slink away from the sun. Michael, who everyone knew was a half was struggling nearly as much as you. He slumped against the wheel slightly as he drove, his sunglasses firmly covering his eyes. Michael had been turned just after you. The boys had Star lure him in; orders from their sire. Though you weren’t there at the time, they were keen to tell you how he had drunk from the bottle and hung it from the train tracks. It had been a few weeks since Michael turned. And you had gotten to know him and the other vampires very well. A heavy weight sets itself upon your shoulders as you clambered out of the car. With your knowledge of the cave and closeness to the vampires, your brothers had relied on you to devise the ultimate plan. Ironically, they sat squashed in the back with you, refusing to ride next to Michael, claiming that ‘They didn’t ride with Vampires’. You were entirely unsure how your brothers hadn’t caught on. You’d passed your tiredness off as late nights getting to know them. Michael knew differently. Either he’d figured it out himself from the time you spent with the vampires, or your symptoms, or Star had caved and told him when she slipped away for help. As you watched your two brothers fumble away with Sam and their stakes, you slipped your arm under Michael, helping to support his weakened body. You had had the privilege of drinking blood from the bottle as much as you needed, or when the boys insisted. Surprisingly, they were relaxed on your resistance to turn fully. It came up occasionally in all of the time you spent with them; It still surprised them at the outcome of your impulse turning. As the pair of you hobbled after the younger boys, who were keen to threaten Michael, and up the stairs, you could feel the burning sun causing both of your heads to pound and muscles to ache. You could also hear the pounding of your heart and you were sure from how loud it was, your fellow vampire could hear it too. Michael glanced at you sideways. “Y/N?”

“Mmh?” You kept your head down, focusing on the steps in front of you, not daring to meet his eyes.

“They don’t know yet. Do they?”

“Know what?”

“Y/N,” He sighed, “Don’t play that game. You know what I mean. I can clearly see the sun’s effect on you”

You huffed, struggling up the stairs, “No. They don’t know yet,”

“How long?” Michael asked. How long since you were turned.

“Not long before you.” You reached the top and began to make your way through the cave’s entrance, “Don’t say anything.” You pleaded. “Please. They’re already mad enough that i’ve been hanging around with them. The only reason they let me do it was for this moment. They’ll be even madder when they realise that I turned wi-” You stopped yourself before you went too far. Michael already knew too much. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Just try not to get yourself killed,”

Michael nodded reluctantly and not another word was passed between you as you made your way down the narrow steps and into the darkness of the cave.

The younger boys were already inside, poking around in curtains and shifting items. Edgar tugged back a thin curtain to reveal Star. She was wrapped tightly in a thin sheet, burying her face in it.

“Here’s one!” Edgar cried excitedly, gesturing to you and Alan, grappling for one of the wooden stakes at the hilt of his belt. They were as thick and as long as your arm, carved half hastily. They would still do some nasty damage. “Come on, let’s stake her!”

“No!” Michael hurried down the last of the steps, gripping onto a loose vine to help keep himself upright. “Don’t you touch her! You stay away from her!” He lurched forwards out of your grasp, causing you to stumble, and skidded to a halt in front of her, forcing the Frog brother away. He dropped to his knees beside her, desperately trying to rouse her from the sun's pull.

“Come on, vampires have such a rotten temper.” Alan glowered, before retreating, slightly taken aback by the sudden outburst before heading off in the opposite direction. “Y/N!” Alan yelled when you continued to stand in your place. “Help us look, God damnit, you’re supposed to be the expert here.”

There was no need to look. You knew exactly where they were, and soon would your brothers. You headed off in the opposite direction, trying to divert their search to where you were. Your heart dropped when you heard Alan yell once again.

“I feel a draft! I think there’s something up here!”

“Let's check it out!” Edgar said running up the stairs, “ Y/N. Sam. Come on,”

Sam followed closely behind with you shortly after. As your brothers began pushing their way through thick layers of cobwebs, Sam called out something to Mike about being back soon.

The tunnel was claustrophobic. It barely stood over a metre in each direction. Roots and cobwebs dangled limply from the ceiling, and a rotten stench filled the air. The five of you continue to crawl down the tunnel, edging closer to uncertainty. The smell got worse and you knew you weren’t the only one who could smell it because Sam screwed up his face in disgust and asked the obvious question.

“What’s that smell?”

“Vampires, my friend. Vampires,”. Edgar patted him on the back. You dropped down off a ledge into a small, circular pit. It was colder there, and you knew that they were definitely in here somewhere. You all looked around, albeit found nothing. You released a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“Looks like a dead end. Let’s head back” you urged, trying to get them to leave before they found the vampires. Maybe if you left now, everyone would make it out alive… or as close to alive as a vampire can be. However, you knew how relentless your brothers were, especially when it came to vampires, so you weren’t surprised when Edgar wanted to keep looking.

“They must have hidden the coffins around here someplace.” Edgar persisted, hovering the lights across the walls.

“There’s nothing here, let’s go guys,” Sam tugged on Alan's sleeve and turned to shuffle back down the tunnel. Then the three boys looked up.

“Jesus!” one of them cried out. You weren’t sure who, you were too busy looking at the figures that hung no more than 10 feet above you, their hair dangling in ribbons by their ears. Sam screamed, only to have his mouth covered shut by one of his friends.

“I thought they were supposed to be in coffins!” Sam cried, clinging to the other two boys who were also cowering in fear.

“That’s what this cave is. It’s one giant coffin.” Edgar regained his composure and began hauling himself and his gear up a ladder, beckoning for you and Alan to follow. Sam stayed below, shining a torch on the vampires’ faces. “Right now they’re at their most vulnerable; easy pickings.”

“Remember, we just have to kill the leader,” Sam prompted. You could tell by the way the light wavered in his shaking hands that he was desperate to leave. You swallowed thickly as you placed your foot on the first rung of the ladder. The old wooden frame shifted under your weight. As the three of you climbed, it creaked and groaned softly.

“We don’t know who the easy one is,” Edgar shrugged, pulling himself onto the rocky platform in the cave. It was narrow, barely three feet wide and there was a fairly sheer drop below it. “I guess we’ll just have to kill them all,”

You climbed onto the platform next to Alan, who was wedging free a stake from his pack.

“We’ll start with the little one.” He smirked. “First come, first staked,”

“What was that?” Sam asked, shining the light on Marko’s face. “A little vampire humour? It wasn’t funny.”

The three of you stood face to face with Marko. His eyes were closed and his lips were puckered softly. He was still wearing his patchwork jacket. Like this he looked so peaceful. Your stomach tossed and turned and Edgar hefted the stake that your brother had passed to him between his sweaty palms. Everything moved slowly when he raised the stake aloft and reared his arm back. You could feel your blood pumping in your veins like an echoing alarm, you could hear your heartbeat pounding against your chest, so hard you thought it might burst.

“No!” You caved, rushing forwards and grabbing your brother’s arm, pulling him behind you, which caused the stake that was in mid pursuit to clutter to the ground. The sound echoed throughout the room.

“Y/N! What the hell are you doing?!” Alan hissed. He pulled Edgar beside him, trying to keep his distance from you. He held out one of his weapons. Your breath shuddered. Above you, the four vampires began to stir. Dwayne's eyelashes fluttered slightly. Despite being underground, you could still feel the pull of the sun. It made your whole body want to curl up and shut down on itself. You wondered how it felt for David and the others. You watched as Alan’s gaze flickered up to them and he squared his jaw.

“Leave them alone.” You told them.

“You’re one of them! Aren’t you?” Alan cried at you, once he had finished looking you up and down. He had finally pieced it together. When you failed to say something, he shook his head in disbelief, “My own sister is a shit-sucking vampire. And a Traitor.”

“Stay away from us,” Edgar said coldly, raising a stake towards you.

“Boys…please.” You took a step towards them, only to have Edgar shove his weapon closer to you. “Please. If we leave now, no one has to get hurt. Just..Just put the stake down. I’ll explain, I promise-”

“Okay.” He grunted. Edgar lowered his stake and you lowered your guard, relaxing just a little bit more. And that was all it took, one tiny moment of trust. Quickly, he spun around, Shoving you harshly towards the edge of the platform and raised his weapon once more.

“Goodnight bloodsucker”

A gut wrenching scream ricocheted across the stone walls.

~

You stumbled backwards, fingers trying in vain to find a grip on the uneven wall. Your footsteps were uneven; all out of beat and losing time. You slipped onto the ground. It was cold and damp beneath your body as you writhed in pain, Rouge tears pooled across your cheeks as you craned your head to spy the offending weapon. The motion made your head swim. It was square, barely as thick as your arm and carved from an aspen tree that once stood in your parents' garden. The four wooden sides sloped together to form a deadly point, now embedded in your stomach, a few inches across from your left hip. You screamed, an agonising, loney scream, but it got lost somewhere between the roaring of the vampires; descending quickly from where they hung, eyes wide and golden with fangs bared, and the screams of the three boys whose eyes were wide with a complexion of shock and terror as they scrambled back down the wooden framework to leave the cave. Your breathing came in quick, short pants as you struggled against the white-hot agony. A figure dropped down next to you as you writhed. A face that was usually so peaceful, hovered into view. His eyes were flecked with gold and were laced with concern and panic.

“Y/N…” Marko breathed, his voice cut clearly through the chaos. He dropped to his knees, hovering over your body, before pressing down onto the red slick that was blossoming between the stake and the threads of your shirt. You groaned in pain. “You’re okay. You’ll be fine. Just stay with me please.” He pleaded, easing you into his arms. When he lifted you, although cautiously, the stake shifted, tugging at your raw, torn skin. A strained whimper escaped your lips and you screwed your eyes up, trying to curl away. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” he hushed, dropping down to the ground of the cave. Paul and Dwayne were quick to rush over to their counterpart. Paul’s eyes were wild, wide and frantic as he reached you. Dwayne’s fangs were still barred, and his hair that was normally so well kept was a mess atop his head. They didn’t care at that moment, seeing you balled up weakly in Marko's arms, something inside of them shifted. The brunette's hands found their way into your hair as you were eased back to the ground, laying across Marko’s chest. When his hands left your hair, you felt them press firmly around the weapon, replacing Marko’s who were now painted with crimson. Although the stake hadn’t gone all the way through, it was close to it. The boys grimaced at your cries of discomfort, faces contorting as though they were the ones feeling your pain too. Paul knelt by your head. He was silent, but took your head gently in his hands, afraid that he might hurt you more. He turned it softly to face him. Your eyes were struggling to stay open as you fought your laboured breathing.

“Y/N?” He questioned. “Hey? Hey. look at me.”

You flitted your eyes up to meet him, They had shifted back to the deep blues of his irises, but the panic on his face still hadn’t melted away.

“Paul?” Your voice was a fraction above a whisper. Ragged and weak. “It hurts.” You whimpered.

“I know. It’s okay. We’ll fix this.”

Blinking slowly, you watched the blonde shift above you. Your eyes felt cumbersome and you suddenly became aware of how tired you were. When black spots began to obscure your vision, you let your eyes flutter shut to blink them away.

“No. No no no. Hey open your eyes, look at us.” Marko panicked.

When your eyes were closed, you felt like you were floating. When your eyes were closed there was no pain. But something was missing. They snapped back open and the whole room seemed to sigh with relief. Above you, someone new had entered the room, David’s face was distraught. And tear stained. His focus shifted from you to the offending stake that still protruded from your gut. His hand ghosted over the top of it.

“We need to take it out.” Paul said.

“No.” When David spoke, it was firm and calm. It mirrored nothing of his expression. “It’s the only thing keeping her from bleeding out. We take it out now and we kill her.”

“We have to do something!” Marko implored. He watched the way your chest staggered up and down. The room was uncomfortably silent for a moment, besides the harsh gasps of your lungs.

“She needs to kill.” Dwayne spoke up.

David nodded solemnly. “We know. But she can’t. We can’t go out there and she’s in no condition to go on her own.”

“Then what the hell are we going to do, David. Huh?” Paul asked. “She’s going to die if we don’t help her.”

They all watched you closely, Your eyes were drooping slowly closed, struggling to hold themselves up. Black spots filled your vision until you could no longer see the blurry shapes of people above you. Your eyes slipped closed again. There was the sound of shuffling and the nauseating smell of more blood mixing with yours. You felt the warm blood ooze down your throat and cool, smooth glass on your lips. When you found enough strength to pry your eyes open, you saw David with the bottle of his blood clutched in his grasp.

“We leave as soon as the sun goes down.”

~~

David left the minute the sun had slipped beyond the horizon. He was bleary eyed and drowsy, but he pulled himself to the nearest part of town to find anyone. The other boys stayed crowded around you. You had gotten worse quickly. The bleeding from the stake had slowed down, however so had your breathing, and your body had paled. You lay limply on Marko’s lap as Paul and Dwayne traced soothing lazy circles on your skin. Their focus never left you. The three of them tried desperately to keep you talking, bringing the glass bottle upto your lips whenever your body wandered a little too far, though eventually the effect of David’s blood began to wear thin and your words turned into little hums and groans of pain. When David finally dragged the struggling man through the entrance to the cave, all bodies perked up. The four vampires helped ease you up, urging you towards the man. Your fingers found flesh.

“That’s it Y/N.” David spoke softly. “Come on, you know what to do.”

You had seen them do it plenary of times. You let your mouth sink into the man’s skin, your teeth piercing the flesh and drawing blood. You swallowed it thickly, it tasted sweeter than you expected. More addicting. As you drank, the fire in your stomach dwindled down to a throb. That was, untill it was forced from your body. Gasping in pain, your hands slipped from the still man in front of you and your body slumped to the ground.

Part 2 • Masterlist

[lazy-queen-irl]

Current state after ch 10 of A Tale of Crowns:

[ghost-proofbaby]

SPOTIFY WRAPPED REQUESTS

send me a number between 1-100 and a fictional character (check rules for who i write for!!), and i’ll write a small blurb based on the corresponding song in my 2023 top songs playlists!

this is by no means original, but i can’t help but jump on the train since this was so fun last year. 🖤 also, i’ve missed y’all. sue me.

[almost-correct-quotes]

bc my job in this fandom is taking one off lines and analyzing them, today i'll be talking about (from the second largest climate package in us history):

gov: "thank you, alaska."

alaska: "who are you?"

gov: "it hurts every time."

gov spent his early days of personification innocent and optimistic and needing, only to get shot down. instinctively, he wants to spend the night with PA, his father-equivalent, only to be told to sleep outside on the ground. he was raised by people who didn't see him as a full person, but as something they could use to get paperwork written and finished. he's still yearning for acceptance and inclusion, and he's still shot down on the daily. and it hurts, every time, because all he wants is for someone to care about him, and to remember him, see him as his own realized person, regardless of what he personifies. he'll say to anyone who'll listen that he's worth it, please, please stay around, please remember me, please don't abandon me, please don't use me.

[freakadr0id]

Whoever said it was okay for Ben Schwartz to say Raph's name like that, I would like for them to know that I hate them.

[justgayrevolutionnaries]

The sun, the stars and everything in between

My gift for @fructidors for the @drinkwithme-exchange ! I chose to write for Enjolras and Jehan, with maybe a bit of Triumvirate and Jehan/Grantaire friendship because I couldn't resist. I hope you enjoy !

Find it on ao3 or read below for those who prefer tumblr

1826

It was not that Enjolras distrusted rich people. He just couldn't stand them, and would rather forget that he was one himself.

So naturally when Combeferre pointed out to him a student he had met at la Sorbonne, who seemingly had no trouble with paying the monthly fee asked of him by the school, he couldn't help but at first consider him with the usual level of scorn he felt when looking at anyone coming from the higher classes.

He was soon to be proven wrong, however, for the young man turned out to be everything but what Enjolras expected.

His hair was longer than what was socially considered conventional, he spent hours looking at anything and everything with a thoughtful look on his face and seemed to be taking more interest in the sky than in the world of men. Enjolras immediately had him pinned down as a Romantic- which wasn't necessarily a good thing, since he couldn't help but feel irritated toward people who, in his eyes, spend their lives contemplating the world in melancholy but doing nothing to change it.

What really caught Enjolras's attention, however, was when he overheard the Romantic talk to a group of other students in a café often used as a gathering point by- well, young students. It sounded more like he was delivering a poem than properly talking, actually, seeing how smoothly the words were coming out of his mouth. And those words were explaining the misery of the world- and of orphans. From what Enjolras could hear, the young man was deeply affected by the fate of orphans in Paris, and seemed more than willing to act about it.

After that, Enjolras felt more than willing to talk to the redhead, even though Combeferre had been begging to introduce them for weeks. It actually seemed surprisingly easy to approach him- maybe it was the way he always looked at everything with a dreamy look on his face, or maybe it was the way Enjolras sometimes found his eyes fixed on him at gatherings, as if he was studying Enjolras or looking for something specific in him. The point was, he seemed nice. And maybe easy to talk to. Maybe that was why Enjolras found himself walking toward the young man's table at the café, forgetting he usually had no idea how to start conversations.

"I liked what you said earlier," he said bluntly. As the other looked up at him in surprise, he felt the need to elaborate : "your poem, about the night and, um, orphans. I really enjoyed listening to it."

"Well, thank you. If is not my best, but I was kind of proud of it, so I figured… why not share it with the class ?"

He had an awkward smile, much to Enjolras's surprise- for some reason he had expected him to be very laid back, like Courfeyrac, another one of his friends, but it turned out the redhead was about as talented as Enjolras to start a conversation in a decent way.

After a rather awkward moment Enjoras was wondering what he was supposed to say next and silently cursing himself for trying to start a conversation without Courfeyrac there, the poet held out his left hand for the blonde to shake, while his right one was busy trying to extract what looked like an old smoking-pipe from his pocket. He had to take out various items, including three rocks of various shapes and what seemed to be peacock feathers (Enjolras decided not to ask) before he found what he was looking for and could focus back on Enjolras.

"Jehan Prouvaire, at your service. Does it bother you if I smoke ?"

"Not at all" answered Enjolras, somewhat amused by the manners of the young man. "Jehan, huh ?"

The other waved aside with a nonchalant look. "Mere fantasy of a poet. You can call me Jean, or even Prouvaire if you like. Do you happen to have a name, or am I expected to find one for you ? Because I have multiple ideas that would quite suit you. Did you ever consider-"

Enjolras thought it wiser to interrupt him there. Not that he disliked listening to the other man, who actually had a very soft and pleasant voice, but he was afraid of the kind of nickname the eccentric redhead thought would fit him.

"That will be quite unnecessary. I am Enjolras." He said, finally reaching out for Prouvaire's hand. "I am glad to make your acquaintance… citizen."

The last word had escaped his mouth after a second of hesitation, carefully watching Prouvaire's face for his reaction. He was not, however, expecting the small laugh that came out of his lips.

"I am only amused by your carefulness. Do I look much like a royalist to you ?"

Enjolras felt the pressure on his stomach untighten. He had witnessed the unconventional behavior of the young man and heard the way he talked of the world around him, and he actually would have been very surprised if such a man turned out to be anything but a supporter of freedom- but again, one never knew. For the first time he found himself smiling genuinely at him.

"Not really. And I shall admit, I am rather happy you aren't. I would have been very disappointed to find out I was wrong about you."

"I shall be happy to have proven you right, then," the poet, who at this point was surrounded by a cloud of smoke, answered with a mocking reverence.

***

1828

He didn't know exactly what Prouvaire was doing here. Despite openly having political opinions that answered more or less those of Enjolras, the poet had never struck him as what he would call a fierce revolutionary. Not that Enjolras was unhappy to discover he had misjudged him, he was always more than content when a new friend joined their group. It was just that he suspected the poet of dropping by the café only to try and meet people who were as interested as him in studying in detail a play of Corneille, the appearance of a new constellation or the shape of the clouds.

While Enjolras was wrong in that the poet was indeed one of the most helpful members, and certainly the one that cared most about doing everything he could to help others, it was true that Jehan wasn't helping by always choosing to sit near one of the newest members of the group, whose only purpose in life seemed to be to empty as many bottles of wine as it was humanly possible.

As a matter of fact, when Enjolras happened to overhear one of the conversations taking place at the table in the corner, the two men always seemed to be talking of any imaginable subject except for the revolution.

"... must have been nice to be one of those gods living on Mount Olympus", Grantaire was currently saying. "To spend your days to eat, drink and contemplate the world- what more could one possibly ask of life ?"

Prouvaire reflected thoughtfully : "The greek gods, huh ? I have always found it quite nice that Apollo was for them not only the god of the sun, but also the god of music. After all, isn't music a way to bring light and warmth in our lives ?"

"What I like about those gods is that they seem to live on, even today, in some of us. For me, I guess I shall be Dionysus, for obvious reasons." Grantaire gestured vaguely at his body, as the poet threw him an amused look. "You can be Apollo if that pleases you- would it only be because you are such a strong defender of poetry in our world, and you can play the lyre."

"The harp, actually," Jehan interrupted him with an offended tone, "and I am surprised the comparison did not arise from my ability to brighten your life a considerable amount."

Grantaire made a disdainful gesture while rolling his eyes to the sky.

"The harp, the lyre… same difference to me. If I touched either one, all I would get out of them would be an atrocity that would so gravely offend one of your music gods that they would probably-"

He stopped abruptly when he noticed that Enjolras had left Combeferre and Courfeyrac to argue on their own on the other side of the room and was making his way toward them.

"I should probably leave now" Grantaire muttered, and before his friend could stop him he had grabbed his coat and made his way through the (extremely) crowded room to the door.

He had probably sensed that Enjolras was not in a mood to be nice with him- and he had been right, since as soon as the blonde reached the table where Jehan was left alone, seemingly wondering whether or not he should run after Grantaire, his first words were : "Do you ever wonder why the man even bothers coming here- does he at least have fun annoying all of us with his meaningless talk ?"

The words probably came out way more rude than he intended to and he immediately felt guilty of it- Jehan hadn't really done anything to deserve this.

"You should give him more credit, you know" Prouvaire said absently, his eyes still fixated on the bottle his friend had left on the table without even bothering to finish it.

Enjolras turned to him, not even trying to mask his irritation. "What should I give him credit for ? Being here ? Those meetings are for serious matters. Everyone here genuinely cares about our revolution, about helping people, fighting for them. Everyone here believes in something better that keeps them going. Grantaire doesn't believe in anything, save maybe wine."

"Doesn't he ?" There was a thoughtful look on his face, as if he hadn't been expecting Enjolras to say that. "You know… sometimes I wonder."

Prouvaire got up, most likely to try and catch up with Grantaire, leaving Enjolras to wonder what he had been trying to say.

***

1830

Prouvaire was vaguely aware that he and Enjolras were the only people left in the café, and that all the others had left when it had started to get dark. He was also vaguely aware that his friend had been talking for a while, most likely about what the better place to build a barricade would be or Courfeyrac's latest idea to find ammunition- sometimes a few words reached his ears, such as "strategic area" and "take back their freedom".

But he was only vaguely paying attention to all of this, because he had spent his afternoon in the café doing what he did best- living in his own world and writing endlessly. For some reasons the ideas were flowing to his mind today, and he had covered countless sheets in scribbled words, unfinished verses and distracted doodles. But now he had been stuck on this verse for a while and did not like it.

At this moment he heard Enjolras clap his fingers and ask, in a voice that seemed worlds away from him : "Prouvaire, do you really find me this boring ?"

The sarcasm passed unnoticed as the poet, not looking up from the sheet in front of him and seeming incredibly focused on the quill in his hand, managed to let out enough words to communicate like a normal human being. .

"I think I need your help, actually." Paying absolutely no attention to his friend's sigh, he added : "Can you find a good synonym for "loyalty" ?"

Surprised at first, Enjolras's look was quick to soften and since he knew that it would be useless to try and blame Jehan, and was not even willing to, as he felt a kind of tenderness where the soft nature of the poet was concerned, he chose to be helpful and answer the question.

"Faithfulness ?" He suggested. "Devotion ?" As if his own words had brought a new idea to his mind, he frowned and added "things I wish more men would have."

Jehan was about to answer that "faithfulness" had too many syllables for what he was trying to do, but surprised by the bitter tone, unusual in the usually passionate voice of his friend, he managed to get out of his bubble and looked up to find the blonde staring into space, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Well, that sounds like an optimistic thought coming from you. What do you mean by that, if I may ask ?"

His friend sighed and opened his arms. "I don't really know myself. I guess sometimes I feel like I have lost faith- we are doing something so important here, but we have no guarantee of anything. No guarantee that what we do will change something, no guarantee that the men will have the heart to come and help us in this fight. I know I shouldn't think that, because I believe in our fight, but I can't help it."

Prouvaire interrupted him with his soft voice, putting a hand on the other man's arm : "why shouldn't you ? It is normal to have doubts, you know. But as long as you remember what you are fighting for, those doubts can not stop you."

Enjolras let his head fall back with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

"I envy you, you know."

The poet glanced an intrigued look at him.

"Before I consider myself flattered, I am going to need you to elaborate. You are really looking quite weird today, Enjolras."

"You always seem to be so optimistic, you know. About pretty much everything- the flowers in your garden, the friends you meet, the fact that any of this-" he gestured with a bitter look at the empty tables surrounding them, "has a chance to ever succeed. This is why I admire you, and with you all the poets. You know how to find hope in the smallest things, be it a ladybug in a garden or a burnt-out candle."

"But you seem to be quite the poet yourself, my friend."

Enjolras merely shook his head, although his friend's suggestion had managed to bring a smile to his lips.

"I leave such activities to those worthy of them. I fear one couldn't call anything I do poetic- all I ever do is talk of revolution and mythic battles, and you can not call me a poet for merely writing speeches."

"You are wrong here. I have seen how you always have your way with words. It is why they admire you, you know. People such as our friends, Grantaire, myself… everyone. Unlike so many people, you know the power of words and how to use it. Maybe it seems to you there is no poetry in your thoughts, but I can assure you your speeches and your ideals inspire me as much as any poem of Dante or anyone else could. And this is a compliment, really."

Enjolras, whose only reaction to this had been to smirk at the mention of Grantaire, had to admit softly :

"If you say so my friend. I suppose I can trust your opinion on those matters. As long as you do not ask me to start smoking the pipe or write what you would consider a poetic verse, I am fine with being considered a poet in the way you mean it."

Jehan burst out laughing at this.

"Don't come and give me ideas. And I am sure you would love it, by the way."

***

1831

"I can not believe I got out of bed for this. Did we really have to be there this early ? The night hasn't even fallen yet" Courfeyrac complained.

"You didn't have to come, then" Combeferre replied mockingly, which earned him a scandalized look from the former.

It had been Prouvaire's idea, unsurprisingly- to spend the evening in the Luxembourg garden so they could look at the stars. There were only four of them, Prouvaire, Combeferre, Enjolras, who was there half willingly and half because the first two had threatened him or dragging him to a ball later if he did not come, and Courfeyrac who could not possibly imagine not being involved in an evening between friends. Grantaire had been invited as well, but for some reason he did not elaborate on, he had refused to come.

"You know," Courfeyrac reflected, pensively looking at a flower he had picked up a few minutes ago, "I have always wondered why you poets always enjoyed looking at the stars so much. I am not saying they are boring, but to look at them your entire lives… what do you find in them that we," he elbowed Enjolras in the ribs,"mere mortals, don't ?"

Jehan let out a small laugh at this. "There is not one answer to this, you know. This is why I like the stars, actually. They mean something different for everyone. I guess I like how they mostly remind me of how small we all are- or, if you want a more optimistic thought, they are at the same time a symbol of hope. Simply consider the way they are so far away from us, yet they are so big that their light still reaches us from over there. And they have been shining like this for longer than we could even imagine."

"Stars can die too, like everything." Enjolras couldn't help but point out, which caused Prouvaire to frown slightly.

"Who is talking about dying ? Dying can wait for now. I would much rather spend my time listening to the sound of a river, watching flowers grow or studying the stars, like now. And like you are doing right now for what I believe is the first time in your life. Enjoy life for a moment, my friend."

He put an arm around Enjolras's shoulders, smiling encouragingly at him, but the blonde shoved him back playfully.

"Contrary to popular belief, my friend, I actually do enjoy looking at the stars."

Combeferre looked at him, raising his eyebrows slightly in a disbelieving manner. "Do you now ? Not so long ago I would have sworn you would rather take a bullet to the chest than even take a second to contemplate the world around you, let alone the world above you."

Enjolras purposely decided to ignore the mocking undertone in Combeferre's voice and answered with a simple shrug. "I don't know any more than you do. It simply happens that they have a calming effect on me, so I like to look at them every so often. And even objectively speaking, stars are beautiful. You shouldn't expect a man to just pass them by without ever looking at them once in his life."

"Actually, you can," Courfeyrac chimed in for some reason. "Look at Pontmercy. He is always so absorbed by his thoughts, I doubt he even noticed there is a sky above us."

As Combeferre rolled his eyes to the sky, as often when Pontmercy was mentioned, Jehan pointed out softly : "you can not blame him for that, Courfeyrac, if he is in love with one of them."

The three of them got into an argument to decide whether or not Pontmercy was actually in love, and Enjolras smiled softly at the stars, thinking that Prouvaire might actually be right about them- like he was about everything.

Life was good.

***

1832

Jehan had been blindfolded. That was the only thing clear to him right now. His memory felt foggy. All he could remember was looking at Bahorel in horror as he got stabbed in the chest. Then lots of noise, screams and shorts, and then a new voice (was it Pontmercy ? It sounded like Pontmercy) dominating all the others. After that he remembered being dragged away in an alley, and trying to scream for help- Enjolras's name, Grantaire's name, anyone that could come and help him.

And red. Lots of red. So much red… everywhere.

He felt someone seize him by the shoulder and push him forward- against a wall. He didn't even need to listen to the declaration of the captain -he guessed it was a captain, a general wouldn't bother with this- to know what was going to happen next.

"Any last words ?"

So many.

He wanted to see his friends one final time, tell them how much he loved them. He wanted to write so many poems, many small verses that would just make one long poem, and claim it to the world.

He wanted to look at everything around him- Paris, his friends, the sky- one final time. He wanted to tell Grantaire all about the sun rising. He wanted to promise them, all of them, that they needed to hope, that the future would surely be brighter, it was only a matter of time. He wanted to tell Enjolras that he needed to look at the stars again, because it might be his final chance to do so.

But he knew he couldn't do any of this- he was out of time.

So all he did was raise his chin proudly and smile. And now he could smile genuinely, because he knew what he believed in- because it was what Enjolras had taught him. Because he had hope for the future, if not for now.

"Vive la France ! Vive l'avenir !"

***

"Vive la France ! Vive l'avenir !"

Enjolras clenched his jaw. His hand was still on Combeferre's arm when the shot rang out, and he used it to steady himself as he realized -as they both realized- what the succession of noises meant.

"They killed him !" Combeferre gasped in horror.

Enjolras nodded slowly. He had expected it, they had talked about it- he just didn't expect for this to become real. He didn't imagine a poet could actually die like anyone else, let alone Jean Prouvaire.

But apparently it was real. Not that it could change much, at this point. He knew that he couldn't afford to lose hope- not right now, not until this was over.

But for now…

He turned to the spy attached to the pillar, who still hadn't moved. "Your friends have just shot you," he said.

[fiepige]

I'm trying to make a short introductory post about a (sorta) new oc but I'm currently at 1224 words and I'm not done writing about him yet 😭

I just have so many things I wanna share about him but I'm afraid people will skip it if it's too long...

[quietwingsinthesky]

just going to keep this au tucked into the back of my mind for the rest of the show btw. doctor who if his companions literally would not leave him alone. he keeps getting new companions and they’re just. integrated into the tardis family. bonding over how much they all love this weird pathetic spaceman who has enriched and/or ruined their lives.

[citrus-blade]

64! Or 8! I love these numbers, why do I have an emotional attachment to numbers?

64: City of Angels - Em Beihold

AU:

Dream and Techno were childhood friends and grew up in houses right next to each other. Ever since they were kids they shared interests, the same goes with their passion for acting. They were in the theater club together and had a friendly rivalry going on.

They had planned to get famous together and not turn into those typical actors who were all bloodsuckers. Instead staying true to themselves and keep their friendship always above everything else.

But then it happened. In college Dream got an offer to act as the leading role in a movie that would surly turn into a hit. He agreed and Techno was happy for him. However with the acceptance came the travelling, the little time for calls and even less to chat. Dream was busy with everything but his friends and Techno was annoyed.

When Dream announced that he was dropping out of college, as he was now successful and called a new born star all over the world. His fame skyrocketed over night with the release of the movie. And with time it had happened, he turned into what he had promised never to become.

Techno was left behind, finished college and mostly accepted smaller roles in the background. Until a talent scount found him and hired him for a next big movie. Only on the first day on set did he find out who he was working with. Dream.

8: Find A Way - SafetySuit

I love this song so so much omg. I listened a lot to it when I wrote my first dnb fanfiction lol

AU:

Techno was rich. Filthy rich even. But even though he was rich, he had fought his parents to let him go to a normal school instead of one of those pretenious private ones. He wanted to have a normal life and find normal friends who weren't just with him cause their parents wanted to work with Techno's.

So he started school with no big expectations except of hoping to find friends. But he found so much more than that. Beside Wilbur, Hannah and a kid called Squid, he had met Dream.

Dream who came from a much poorer family, Dream who wanted to turn into an author and tell people all about the stories he created in his head, Dream who was so unaware of Techno's wealth. And Dream who was just as in love with Technoblade as Techno was with him.

It didn't take long for them to get together, feeling a pull to each other. Though it was weird that they never met up at Techno's place, they were either at Dream's or somewhere outside. Never at the pinket's.

Then one day it happened, Dream had followed Techno to his house, or rather his mansion. He watched him walk through the gate past the security and it was then when Dream decided to look up Techno's last name.

Shocked and betrayed he had called him, told him he was outside. Techno came running outside, telling Dream not to be too loud or his parents would hear them. Dream, angry that Techno tried to keep him as a secret left.

The next day Techno talked to Dream, tried to explain that his parents weren't good people and he was scared that they'd hurt Dream. But Dream said they wouldn't, that everyone somehow hated their own parents in their young age of seventeen and surely they weren't as bad as he thought.

So the next weekend Dream came over and Techno was proven right. The way his parents looked at him and talked to him? Wrinkled nose and noises of disgust. But the worst was that they told Techno that he couldn't be friends with someone like Dream, that he wasn't good enough.

They didn't know what they were talking about because Dream was the greatest person on earth. He grabbed his boyfriend's hand and they ran. Ran and ran until there wasn't anywhere to go. Because Techno didn't care about what other people said about Dream, he loved him and he'd find a way to stay by his side forever.

[halflife-2]

*wiping tears from my eyes* Thank you fan fic writers

[thevikingwoman]

one more for @wayfarer-week, this time for prompt 6: flirt

Fandom: Wayfarer IF | Words: 669 | Read on Ao3

Illia Strand x Aeran Kellis (pre-relationship) | after Karth, pre game rating: T. Flirting, bad habits, hoping for the best

Flirt

“So, you’re new here?”

The voice is melodic and Illia turns towards the man next to her, even if she almost laughs at their obvious conversation starter. She’s done worse herself, and she does look like – is a mercenary, and doesn’t look like a local in any way.

“I’m just passing through.” She looks the man up and down, lifting an eyebrow at his shimmering silver wings and teal crest sparkling on his forehead like little raindrops. Altogether it’s quite stunning. “And you? You don’t look like you’re from around here either.”

He laughs, and his laugh is lovely too.

“I’ve settled here some years ago. It’s a nice place here and there’s enough to do for me.” He takes a drink from his glass. “Name’s Elen.”

“Nice to meet you Elen. I’m Illia. What do you do here?”

“I make and repair instruments, there’s enough musicians here. Requires a deft hand, you know.”  

He winks and heat rises in Illia’s cheeks. It’s an easy enough thing to fall into, grinning and running and hand through her hair, flexing her arm. Once they seek her out, she found that most people like the tattoo, and she’s happy to oblige, even if she hasn’t done this lately. She looks at Elen’s hands, but her gaze is drawn to his wings. He notices, and they shiver and fan out a little.

“You look like you’ve traveled far, Illia, I don’t doubt you’ve met an Aeda before,” he goes on, “but if you’re curious perhaps you’d like to touch them?”

Her throat is suddenly dry, and she drinks again before she answers. She knows what next and it always matters, whether it’s one way or the other.

“You might prefer me not to,” she says, “I’m a magianis.”

That’s all she wants to say for now, though part of her bristles against it. Wayfarer, Wayfarer, but it’s better to leave it be. She should stop and leave regardless, but she waits instead.

Elen startles slightly, and looks her up and down, taking in her sword and armor and dusty travel clothes.

“I see. I’ve heard that is quite an experience, Illia,” he draws and leans closer. “Maybe we can find out in private?”

She can work with that, and perhaps pretend that this time the morning after will be different. He’s pretty enough that she might not care what happens, how much she’ll hate that he’ll be gone before she wakes.

“Illia, there you are!” a voice calls across the inn.

Aeran.

She turns to him and smiles automatically as he makes his way towards her. She remembers why she’s not doing this anymore.

“I have to go, Elen. It was nice meeting you – perhaps some other time.”

Elen reaches for her, and he doesn’t startle all – perhaps he’s more well-traveled than she expected.

“Are you alright,” he says in a low voice.

“He’s my friend, it’s fine. I hope you have a great evening.”

He sighs a little and leans away from her.

“You too, Illia. Safe travels.”

She gets up and meets Aeran, leaving Elen at the bar.

“What was that about, Lia?”

“Nothing. Just a guy.”

She shakes her head. She’s stopped doing this, after she met with Aeran on that fateful afternoon in Karth. She’s no need for the empty feeling when someone eventually shies away, once they’ve had their curiosity sated. She’s spent too much time hoping some quick romp will fill the emptiness inside.

“I’ve inquired about the giant rats,” Aeran says. “Apparently, they spit fire. He’s offering 25 crowns to get rid of them.”

“So, we’re doing it?”

Aeran grins, and nods.

She wants to reach for him, and she knows he won’t shy away. He’s right there, like a bit of sunshine in her life; some days, he’s the only happy thing in her life. A familiar comfort, tugging at her heart. She isn’t sure if he feels the same, but they’re here together and right now she doesn’t need anything or anyone else.