#also quite frankly he's lucky to have lived as long as he did

[thursdays-adult]

You know, throwing this out there completely randomly, we really don't talk enough about Zhao from Avatar. Like his story is absolutely wild. Man was trained by Jeong Jeong, freaking found Wan Shi Tong's library, found out about the solar eclipse from the library, burned a section of the library down, escaped from that alive, captured the avatar, successfully breached the walls of the Northern Water Tribe which had never been done, and killed the freaking moon spirit. Like he is a bastard and regularly loses to teenagers, but you can't deny it's quite the resume.

[watermelonsugacry]

Could you do a blurb showing how Harry and 1dbandmate!yn reacted over the years when asked in interviews if they were a couple?? please 🙏

Always Asked

A/N: been in a writing funk lately but i'm happy i got this one done since i miss writing and posting to you all!! 💚

SUMMARY: Snippets of interviews over the years from when YN and Harry were asked if they were dating. (3.4k)

GENRE: 1dbandmate!yn, famous!yn

SINCE 2010 masterlist

2011:

Never in a million years did YN ever think her dream career would start so soon. It’s only been a year since she auditioned for the XFactor and now she’s sitting at a table next to her bandmates as hundreds of fans go down the line to get a copy of their freshly signed album. 

With copious amounts of screaming comes along an abundance of questions thrown at the teenagers. Most of the time, it’s YN giving the screaming fans a beautiful smile, asking them how they are, and thanking them for their kind words before passing the signed CD case to Harry. With all the excitement in the air, she feels like she’s truly living the pop star lifestyle she’d seen many others live out.

“Hiya, love,” YN smiles at the preteen girl who’s practically vibrating with excitement at seeing the famous band. She also gives a polite greeting to the supportive dad of the young girl who has his hands on his daughter’s shoulders. “How are you? I love your shirt.”

She compliments, smiling at seeing the young girl wearing a shirt with YN’s face on it. 

“My dad got it for me for my birthday!” The little fan beams.

“Did he?” YN animatedly gasps with a smile. “Well, it was nice of him to take you over here, yeah?”

She signs the CD case with a heart over her name before sliding it over to Harry. His fingers brush over hers and the two of them catch each other’s gaze. A smile tugs on their lips before looking away just as quickly. 

“Are you two dating?” The young girl practically screams out, her eyes bouncing back and forth excitedly between YN and Harry. 

The two teenagers tense up, thrown off by the question in such a crowded place. Their management team is still media-training them and while they’ve learned so much already, they’re still getting used to taking what they’ve learned out into the field.

YN and Harry give each other a look, already knowing the answer but searching in one another’s eyes for maybe a smidge of something more.

“Lilly!” The dad scolds before letting out a chuckle. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” YN shakes her head with a smile, hoping it's convincing enough to not cause any suspicion. “Sorry Lilly, but Harry and I aren’t dating because quite frankly—” She beckons the little fan closer, cupping her mouth but still being loud so her bandmate can hear, “—he has cooties.”

Harry’s immediately furrowing his brows together and lets out a long and playful, “Hey!”

“Ew!” Lilly laughs, seeming satisfied with that answer before waving goodbye and walking towards the rest of the band.

Before they can dwell on what just happened, thankfully the next fan shuffles over for their own interaction and signed copy.

2012:

The band is at their first Brits Awards show and needless to say, they all got a little tipsy after their win. Their team didn’t even have time to give them a snack or water bottle to help sober them up a little bit before their backstage press interviews.

“Harry, how will you guys be celebrating tonight?” A journalist asks from the crowd.

“Erm,” Harry giggles to himself and it makes YN tipsily follow from her spot next to him. The hand that isn't gripping onto their award goes to cover her smile. “I think we’re just gonna hang out and stuff.”

“YN? Is there any lucky man whom you will be celebrating with?” Another voice in the sea of reporters asks.

“Nope,” YN raises her eyes with a tipsy smile and a slow shake of her head. She shakes her thumb towards her boys with a click of her tongue. “Just these lads.”

“Any lucky lad in particular? Perhaps a curly-headed one standing next to you?”

Almost as if it was planned, the two teenagers comically look beside each other, cranking their necks in playful search of who the intrusive lady was referring to.

“Me?” Harry dramatically questions, pointing to his chest with a bright, open-mouthed, dimpled smile gracing his face.

“Well, I mean he is part of the band, is he not?” YN sassily purses her lips together, her media-training to retain her “good girl” image slipping out of her alcohol induced brain. 

Thankfully, before anything could be escalated further by the tipsy girl, the intrusive press, or the snickering boys, a member from their management team instructs the audience to move onto another person.

2013:

“You guys have known each other for what seems like forever now and your bond with the rest of the guys is so strong...” 

YN reaches forward for a sip from her glass of water on the panel table in her seat in between Harry and Niall. It’s been a long week for the band as they do press for their new movie, This Is Us. They’ve been thrown left and right with interviews that YN can’t help but already be done with the repetitiveness of some of the questions.  

“So then we’re all clearly curious to know if you and Harry are dating?”

“Nope,” YN pops the ‘P’ and shakes her head as if her actions were automatically programmed to respond in that way. She casually waves her finger between the two boys beside her, “But him and Niall are though.” 

The crowd of press people laugh and chuckle as they see Naill gasp and Harry raise his eyebrows in playful shock.

“I mean, you kinda pointed it out,” YN puts on her media-trained smile good enough to win an Oscar. “These lads are like my brothers and our bond is so strong because we see each other more like family than anything else. I see them more as annoying than someone I'd rather date, to be honest,” she forces out a light laugh. 

“Plus, as YN so kindly pointed out,” Harry leans on his elbows on the table as he looks to his crush next to him. YN can see his dimple dig into his cheek as he fights off a smirk. “M’happily in a committed relationship with Niall.”

Harry doesn’t take his eyes off of his bandmate as he leans back into his seat. He watches as she tucks her chin into her chest, her fingers rubbing over her lips to cover her giggle as the rest of the room breaks out in commotion.

2014:

“Can we assume that the rock on your finger is from a certain curly-headed lad?” The woman who’s interviewing them for the band’s new book Who We Are excitedly asks. 

The band are all sat on an L-shaped couch as they discuss the contents of the hard cover book. Sat in between Zayn and Niall, YN purposely avoids her gaze from Harry as she answers.

“No,” YN lets out a forced chuckle as she looks down to fidget with the diamond ring on her finger. Anyone who has looked at more than three pictures of YN can tell that her favorite pieces of jewelry are her assortment of rings along her fingers. But only true fans know that part of her liking to the small jewelry is to help her fidget with them when she has anxiety. It’s an odd feeling however that the newly gifted one has been the cause of her increase in nerves. “It’s um, from me boyfriend—well, fiancé now—Matthew. Harry is like a brother to me so that would be quite weird.” 

“Of course! I was only teasing, love.” The woman laughs with an over-exaggerated smile, clearly disappointed in the answer she was given. “Congratulations to you both.”

“Thank you,” YN forces a smile, still twisting at the shiny ring that sticks out like a sore thumb.

2015:

“YN.”

“James.” She says with the same amount of playful seriousness, the audience in front of them laughs along. As the date of the band’s long-awaited hiatus comes closer and closer, their good friend James Corden interviews them in the same location where they filmed the music video for Story of My Life. 

“Harold,” the host directs his attention to the band member sitting next to her.

The fans in the crowd only giggle in giddiness even further as Harry playfully throws a hand up in confusion with what the fans call his ‘frog’ smile. 

“Now, we are all truly devastated when we heard the news that you and your long-time partner had called it quits a couple of weeks ago.” The audience laughs when James comically shakes his head no. YN even lets out a laugh when she sees the fans in the audience cheer at the news of her new relationship status. Despite the support she feels from the fans, it doesn’t necessarily calm the nerves at why the host brought the topic up in the first place. “Now we’re also all wondering if this may have possibly opened up, I don’t know, an opportunity for you to seek something with another lad?”

“Um,” YN lazily holds her microphone to her lips as she gives James the news that will hopefully shut down the conversation. “I think m’gonna just focus on myself for a bit. Yeh know, take a break from dating and all that.”

The room breaks out into chuckles when the host makes noises like he doesn’t believe her. He wags his interview cards in the air as he says, "I mean, both of your writing credits on some love songs tell me otherwise..."

Truthfully, the two friends can't deny that logic. They've either individually or co-wrote a plethora of love songs...that may or may not have been about each other. But will they ever admit that to a room full of their fans who have been shipping them since their XFactor days? Hello no.

“Well, the beauty that YN and I see in music is that songs are always up for interpretation," Harry interjects. "They can mean anything you want them to be, in any sort of scenario.”

“Yeah, like, lyrics don’t always necessarily have to come from a place of experience,” YN adds on, professionally keeping her voice from wavering in nervousness. “It certainly helps but that’s not always the case. Especially now.”

She can’t help but laugh along with the rest of the crowd as James holds an expression like he doesn’t believe a word they said.

“Okay, fine. Deny it all you want,” James puts his hands up defensively. “I just...I don’t know, I just think that this could really be Something Great.”

The room of fans (and die hard ynrry shippers) squeal and scream out in a mixture of excitement and disbelief from his use of the One Direction songs that are heavily speculated to be about YN and Harry. 

“Whatever, it’s your guy’s decision at the End of the Day,” James continues nonchalantly, trying to hide the smile that shows that he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Fans’ eyes bounce back and forth between the two band members in question. They see as YN has her hands clasped together on her crossed legs, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her witty comments to herself. Harry, on the other hand, leans his elbow on his knee with his index finger over his smirk. He tries to cover up his chuckle with a cough to his fist before pushing back his long curls. 

“All we want is for you guys to live Happily ever after, is all.”

2017:

“Now, both of you little sneaky sneaks went to Jamaica together to make his album. Come on, tell me I’m wrong,” Nick Grimshaw teases, wiggling his fingers in a beckoning motion.

The two were currently on BBC Radio with their good friend that they’ve known since their days in the band. Dropping their first solo albums in the same week caused their fan bases to go into a frantic frenzy. The two have a full day ahead of them as their record labels and management teams paired the two up for a day jam-packed with press and interviews together.

“You are not wrong,” Harry laughs, adjusting the chunky headphones over his ears. He’s already rolled up his white button-up sleeves and discarded his picnic table-looking blazer to lay on the back of his chair.

“Sneaky sneaks?” YN chuckles next to him, leaning her elbows on the counter and moving her hips to rotate her swiveling seat from side to side.

“Well, I only say that because you guys are obviously dating now, right?”

“Do girl and guy best friends always have to be dating?” YN easily swerves the question back to the radio host.

“Well,” Grimmy tilts his head from side to side. “Not necessarily, but wouldn’t that be a good story? For your future kiddos perhaps?”

YN and Harry bark out a laugh.

“Sorry, m’getting ahead of myself. Maybe you lads would want to save that for your wedding day instead.”

“Can I swear on the radio?” YN playfully yet genuinely asks the host which makes Harry giggle.

“But I mean, what are your fans—and quite frankly, the rest of the world—supposed to think when a good majority of the songs on his album are about you, Miss Two Ghosts?” Nick teases with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

YN’s jaw humorously drops, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as a nervous laugh threatens to escape. The two knew that they would get poked and pried with questions and accusations like this since their trip to Jamaica. There’s no use in trying to deny their close relationship with one another, spending more time with one another than any of their fellow band members since the start of the hiatus. 

Unable to quickly come up with an explanation, being so caught off guard, she turns to the only other person she can trust. 

“Jenny?” YN playfully calls for her manager who’s behind the glass window of the radio studio, leaning forward to look at her despite Harry in the way. 

“Help me, Jeffery,” Harry playfully pleads to his manager as well.

“No, no Jeffery. Jenny, get back in your chair, young lady.” Nick points out for the listeners who can’t see what’s currently happening. “Alright, I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” The host waves his hands, seeing the two visually calm down at the news. “Now, I’ll just play the one Harry wrote about YN. This is Two Ghosts!”

Harry playfully yells out an “Oh, no!” as he pushes himself away from the desk. YN lets out a humored scream at the same time, taking off her chunky radio headphones and tossing them onto the desk. 

2020:

“Okay, a big question that I’ve been getting on Twitter since it was announced that the two of you would be on here today,” Roman Kemp waves a hand in front of him at the Capital FM Breakfast Radio headquarters as he looks onto the two pop stars in front of him on the Zoom call. The couple can be seen in two separate rooms: Harry in a naturally lit room while YN sits against one of the brick walls in her bedroom.

Harry has his purple robe on that his girlfriend gifted him a couple of years ago, looking as comfy as ever since he doesn’t have to get dressed up to go outside for anything lately due to being on lockdown. 

YN on the other hand, didn’t want to miss the opportunity to get dolled up. Well, at least from the waist up. She wears one of her silk button-up blouses with her last name embroidered on the left chest, her hair neatly done up in a slick ponytail and her make-up nicely done. When she got complimented on her look, she clumsily lifted her leg up to show off her heart-decorated, fluffy pajama pants.

“And I feel like both of your fan bases combined would come out of quarantine to quite literally murder me if I don’t ask you guys this...” YN and Harry keep a mutual face on as they wait to hear what the host has to say. “We all know that you guys are an official couple now, but are you guys physically staying together at the moment? Like, are you guys living together or at the same house or...?”

The couple takes a second to process the intimate question. As Harry parts his lips to answer, he’s interrupted by his girlfriend speaking first. 

“Y’know, we’re kind of tired of getting questions like this. I don’t think it’s really appropriate for other people to know about that kind of stuff,” The crease between YN’s eyebrows becomes more apparent and her shoulders move sharply after letting out a deep sigh.

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry if I offended you guys—” The radio host quickly begins to retract.

“M’sorry but I think m’actually gonna log off now. Erm, thank you for having us.” YN curtly nods before the host and Harry’s faces fill the screen, both with wide eyes at the unexpected reaction from the go-happy pop star.

“Wait, did that really just happen?” Roman and the other two interviewers are deers in headlights, his eyes bouncing around the screen to make sure what just took place. 

“I think so,” Harry sighs. “It’s just a sensitive topic for us, y’know. I can’t really blame her for what she did,” He professionally hides his smile as he hears the quick pad of footsteps coming down her spiral staircase.

“I really meant no harm, it’s just—”

“It’s just really hard to keep our private life private, you know?” Harry drags on with a deep sigh. “And it's just really hard for us to have to answer things like this. Like, we don’t really know what you guys expect us to do when...” Harry’s dimples dig into his cheeks, a boyish giggle comes tumbling past his lips when YN peaks her head sideways in front of his laptop camera.

“YN!” Romans scolds with a bright smile, infinitely relieved he didn’t just make enemies with the world’s favorite female pop star. He dramatically throws a hand over his heart.

“Sorry, I’m sorry! It was just too good and Ro, I think you’re the only one that would be able to handle a joke like that.” YN laughs as she slides in close to her comfy-looking boyfriend.

“So I’m assuming this confirms my previous question?” The host asks excitedly.

“Yeah,” Harry smiles fondly at his love, discreetly wrapping an arm around her waist that’s low enough to not be shown on camera. “We’ve been living at YN’s place in LA for a couple of weeks now. And yeah, it’s been fun.”

2022:

In a full black suit, Harry is escorted to the next interviewer on the red carpet for the premiere of My Policeman. After a couple of initial questions, the eager woman asks, “Last thing before you get whisked away, on behalf of the fandom and everyone else on this planet, we just want to send a massive amount of love to you and YN.”

“Thank you very much,” He nods, putting a hand over his heart and trying his hardest to keep the growing smile on his face at bay. 

“And we are all just dying to know,” She takes a quick, excited glance back to the camera. “If you’re going to drop the big question soon?”

Harry can’t help but huff out a laugh, the kind where his dimples dig into his cheeks and the crows feet appear next to his eyes. If they only knew that YN kept the ring he gave her—the ring that signifies their promise to become husband and wife on their anniversary—at home for the sake of privacy and for this very reason. 

“Um,” He looks up in fake contemplation before giving her a cheeky shrug. “I dunno. Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?”

“Well, best of luck to you both.”

After being escorted away, the camera doesn’t stop filming Harry as he goes over to stand next to his fiancée on the red carpet. Although the camera can’t pick up what YN says to Emma Corin that makes the actress laugh, her beaming smile turns to Harry when she feels his hand on her back. He can’t hold back from planting a loving peck on her cheek before the two are escorted to their next section on the red carpet. 

2023:

On a show in Cardiff, Harry adjusts a flag on his shoulder as he walks around the catwalk on stage. As he begins to sing Satellite, he makes a stop to sing to a group by the barricade. 

It’s nothing new to YN and Harry’s respective shows when fans bring signs with something on it to get the artists’ attention. Honestly, it’s become one of the parts of the show they look forward to the most.

So when Harry’s eyes move over to a newly raised sign that says ‘shag?’ on it, he breaks out into a smirk. Part of the fun of when fans bring signs is that there’s always a handful that asks these sorts of questions: Are you single? Can I have your number? Are you dating? 

It’s not so much the content written on the signs that makes the interaction so enjoyable; it’s the response that he gives. 

Because all Harry does is break out into that dimpled, love sick smile that YN can’t get enough of and happily points to his wedding band.

.

.

Taglist:

@ashtongivesmebutterflies @cacapeepee

(let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 💚)

[ratherbefangirling]

Belong 9

Pairing: ot7 x reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, omegaverse au

Summary: You and Jungkook go to the camp.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Jungkook can feel the excitement in the air. The pack is bustling with activity.

Jin and Hobi have been out shopping on multiple little trips every day busy buying things for you. They think they're hiding it well but their constant giggling and taking approval from either Yoongi or Taehyung cannot possibly go unnoticed, even though Junkook among all of them is the best at being oblivious.

Last night he overheard Yoongi and Joon discuss or rather argue..it wasn't an actual fight but they both did get worked up enough that Hobi had to intervene. The two of them were quite passionate about converting one of the store rooms into your room and possibly redo the basement to optimise storage. Even Taehyung who Jungkook didn't think was very interested in having you as part of the pack had already informed his family about you. Jungkook had been gaming with Taehyung when his family pack called. And Taehyung had quite happily chirped about Junkook's mate.

It made Jungkook think about you.. which frankly he had been avoiding. He had said yes to the pack but at the same time he was nervous about how things would actually go. He knew the pack would be disappointed if you said no and he didn't think he could handle that in addition to loosing you. Nobody knew the fact that he had watched you from the first day you entered. Your bright smiles were infectious. You were a reserved person and he was shy and to be honest it wasn't the best combination.

Many a times when you sat in Yoongi's studio doing your work Jungkook stood and watched from the slight opening of the door. He had come out to eat icecream and he picked up the tub decided to go visit yoongi and there you were. Its like you belonged with the pack already. He only moved when you started packing your books to leave. Rushing to hide in his room. Heart pounding. It must have been from the running because surely it couldn't be you. His icecream melted but he felt like he had bigger concerns. But he wasn't sad for long because Jin had made him a milkshake out of the melted icecream

Another thing to note was that Jungkook loves your scent. It's addicting, it's like having his favourite candy times hundred for the first time. If he could turn your scent into perfume he would and he would also spray it everywhere so he can always smell it.

Jungkook was more proactive in the action department of his brain than the thinking. He had always his hyungs to do the thinking for him. It wasn't like he couldn't but he liked living not having to do the heavy lifting and being cared for,he would move mountains for them in return if that's what made them happy. And he was always going to have the pack and now maybe possibly even you.

How did he even get so lucky.. he had told this to Yoongi who'd gently replied. Whatever he did he must have been good.

And you're pretty. In all the ways he likes. If Jungkook wasn't busy being jealous of you when you were first introduced to him he would have followed you to the ends of the earth just to get a glimpse of you. He'd often watch the windows of your room sleeping only after you turned off the lights. Some times he wanted to scold you for staying up late. Or for being careless as a lone omega. He knew he'd get an earful if he ever confessed such thoughts to anyone but he couldn't help but worry. He wanted to be the one who protects you. Except he'd only caused you hurt. Maybe he wasn't good enough to be your mate maybe that's why the bond was one way instead of two. He must have been oblivious to not realise how much he cared for you.

Jungkook has always been a hopeless romantic. He knows it. Every one knows it. He remembers the one time that play fighting with Jin had gone too far and Jin had to leave for an offsite buisness trip and when Jin opened the trunk to get his luggage, he found Jungkook eating his emergency jellies... which made Jin both endeared and even more mad. Jungkook had followed Jin to his hotel and even had the audacity to order mint chocolate icecream.

Jin was extremely irritated having to deal with Jungkook but also secretly happy Jungkook had followed him even though Jin wouldn't be caught admitting it. He even made Hoseok lecture Jungkook later.

But being around you is so confusing for Jungkook. He wants to protect you but also hide from you. He wants to listen to you but also talking to you is so intimidating. He wants to hide you from the world but also show you off to everyone. He wants to never say the words out loud and scream from the rooftops. That yes yes he's in love with you.

Thats not the only thing on Jungkook's mind though.

As he eats instant noodles with Jimin, a random movie playing in the background. He can't help but be a little concerned.

The only one not into the recent change is Jimin and Jungkook thinks he might have something to do with it.

The truth is Jimin felt a little betrayed by Jungkook's change of stance. Jimin liked you, he did. He loved hanging out with you and the omega sleepovers and laughing silly with you ,but you were the newest friend he had made in a while and things would change once you were pack. And there wasn't any guarantee it'd change for the better.

He also felt a little threatened by you, he was used to being Jungkook's omega and the packs omega uncontested because Taehyung always folded even when Jimin knew he was being unreasonable or doing something just because he could and not to mention how it would inevitably change the pack dynamics. Namjoon and Yoongi had taken a great learning curve to respect each other, but because of you, they were already arguing again. While Jimin wouldn't say it our loud, he was grateful Yoongi was a beta because otherwise, it would have been a total disaster.

Also the pack was already accommodating you. When Jimin had introduced Jungkook there was a lot of adjustments and maybe its unfair on you for Jimin to compare but it's the truth. Jimin was furious when he glanced upon Hobi's idea notebook where he was already considering doing videos with you.

Everything felt too sudden. And thats not to mention having the responsibility of looking after the wellbeing of another omega. Jimin wasn't sure he could do it.

The pack sat together for dinner. Since Jungkook was going to be away from home Seokjin and Yoongi had gone the extra mile to make Junkook's favourite dishes. The mood across the table was cheery.

They all ate happily talking over each other. Jin was showing off by flexing his arm muscles because he had recently started going to the gym again. Tae too flexed his muscles. Hobi laughed. Jimin couldn't help but smile fondly at his pack.

"Jungkook. Do well." Yoongi said quietly as they were picking up dishes.

Before Jungkook could reply. Jimin spoke. "Its not necessary that Y/n will agree."

Yoongi was a little shocked by the bite present in Jimin's words.

"What do you mean?"

Shrugging he said." I mean she's a solo omega who hasn't lived in a pack for most of her life. It's hard to live with us. Besides she may just not want to. I think you guys are building it up too much. I mean she didn't even say anything about the gifts we gave her before so who knows maybe she was playing us. I mean you guys saw her with another alpha."

Yoongi felt angry. "Are you hearing yourself right now?"

"Ofcourse I'm just being realistic." Jimin replied defensively.

Yoongi lost his temper. "That's rich coming from you."

"What do you mean?" Jimin said even though he knew exactly what Yoongi was implying. He had introduced Jungkook to the pack when Jungkook was still a minor.

"What's going on?" Taehyung asked coming from the kitchen soap suds in his hand. "You guys smell angry."

Yoongi scoffs. "Nothing." Yoongi walks away leaving a Jimin who is both hurt and angry.

Finally the day of the trip arrives. Jungkook can feel the pressure.

Namjoon spots the tremble in Jungkook's hand. So he waits for everyone to say their goodbyes. Then he hugs Jungkook.

"Have fun. OK? And no matter what happens I won't be Dissappointed in you. You're still pack. Our Baby alpha."

And Jungkook feels himself relax. It's exactly what he needed to hear.

"Our kid is going camping alone. Jungkookie is all grown up. Come on everyone it's picture time " Hobi says ushering everyone close to take a picture.

"1 2 3, Say cheese" Hobi clicks the picture. The Polaroid film comes out blank and slowly but surely the colors start filling in.

"Why's his bag so heavy? It's like you're carrying rocks." Taehyung comments.

And his bag was quite a sight. An army style bag and luggage with extra sleeping bag containing snacks and a safety kit and a Swiss knife.

"Ok ok. He'll be late." Jin says ushering them along.

They all say goodbye and leave for work.

Jungkook takes a deep breath and picks his luggage. Here goes nothing. .

The first order of buisness is that Jungkook is responsible for taking attendance. He can't help but notice your cheery mood. It puts him in a good mood too.

Soon it's time to board the bus. He directs the students along with the other volunteers to keep their bags in the bus. He's about to help you when Yeonjun that brat keeps your luggage.

"Your luggage is cute like you" the alpha says.

You giggle.

And Jungkook decides he hates this Yeonjun character. His hate only intensifies. When you sit next to each other. He breaks the pencil he was holding when he sees you share earphones.

He wants to stop you but he remembers he has no right to. He spends the rest of the ride plotting Yeonjun's demise.

He watches you fall asleep. Its early morning so it's only natural a lot of people are sleeping. The bus makes a stop he watches Yeonjun and others who are awake go to the bus stop. He covers you up with the shawl so you don't catch a cold. Then he goes back to his seat satisfied.

The bus resumes its journey. Finally the destination arrives. People start to get up. You look groggy and half asleep. So adorable.

"I'll take out our bags" Yeonjun tells you. You nod in response hugging the shawl closely. It smells nice. You stretch and stand up. Jungkook comes closer to you the apology ready on his lips but instead he changes his mind the last minute.

"Y/n.. I... the shawl please."

"Oh yeah sure." You're a little disappointed. Aren't you supposed to be mates. Isn't this supposed to be easy. You wait for him to say something else. Anything. But before he can say something one of the other volunteers asks Jungkook to hurry. And so once again he leaves you hanging.

You are alloted rooms luckily you and Sooyeon are sharing the room. You both quickly change into your hiking outfit.

You start at the base of the mountain excited but it isn't soon that you're already regretting it. The surroundings forest makes the air humid. And soon you're sweating. As the path goes on, it becomes more steep. Jungkook stays near you and though you loathe to admit it. It does make you feel more safe.

Despite grumbling the entire journey. The top view is spectacular. Though the weather is windy. You take pictures. You even have a group picture taken.

And then it's going down, which, though easier than climbing is still fueling your exhaustion. By the end your legs feel like jelly.

Soon it's time for dinner after eating and taking a shower you pass out on your bed.

The next morning after breakfast, your bus takes you to the camping site. The scenery is nice. A clearing at the base of the mountain surrounded by forests.

On reaching camps you are handed tents. Your first task is building tents. You start to read the information booklet with Suyeon.

"Don't worry Y/n. I'll help you out. I used to go camping with my dad. I've helped make tents."

You smile at her grateful, but before you can say more. A loud clap attracts your attention.

It's Jungkook.

"Gather round. I'll make one tent to show you how it's done. Play close attention."

He then picks up your tent and starts setting it up carefully going over the steps. And you wanna roll your eyes at his audacity but you're also secretly impressed.

Suyeon nudges you, a mischievous smile on her lips.

"Shut it." You say warning evident in your tone.

She only giggles thoroughly, enjoying the turn of events.

Jungkook knows he's probably trying to hard. But at this point it's all or nothing. It's best to finish this before he looses his nerve. Except all his plans seem to be backfiring. Anytime he tries to offer help. Show he can provide as an alpha. Its end up in a way where you offer to help others and do more work.

He then instructed people to chop wood for the barbecue. Assigning yeonjun to it. To you he put on the food preparation duty. So that you both wouldn't stick to each other. His satisfaction lasted only a little while.

After a while, every time Yeonjun transported the wood, he'd drop by the kitchen area. And you'd feed him a little something after he cutely whined for it. Even helping him drink water!!! Jungkook had to busy him in the actual grilling. Pretending to teach him to barbecue so that the two of you would stay separated.

You sat huddled together as a group when Yeonjun produced smores like he was smuggling alcohol.

As if that wasn't enough. Yeonjun fed you the fresh grilled pieces of the barbecue. And Jungkook was forced to handover the smores he bought for himself to Yeonjun because he wanted you to eat them. And he had to smile and pretend to be magnanimous to Yeonjun who thought Jungkook was favouring him.

Ha! As if he would favor his mortal enemy.

He just couldn't risk making you more angry then you were and have Jin hyung scold him that's it. And Yeonjun was a nice kid. But he wouldn't be caught dead admitting it.

"Wow where did you get these" Suyeon asked him taking a bite.

"Jungkook sunbaenim gave them to me. I think he likes me." Yeonjun replied confidently.

Suyeon choked back laughter. You handed her water with a pointed look.

"Ofcourse such a nice senior." Suyeon agrees patting your back.

And one might call him biased against Yeonjun. But whenever he tries to give him jobs you end up volunteering to help him out. Like he made Yeonjun do the dishes. And he had been away for a moment only to come back and find you sitting next to Yeonjun scrubbing away. And playing with the bubbles. He stromed away in barely concealed rage which stemmed out of jealousy and ended up scrubbing the rest of the pots. Which Yeonjun saw and felt even more respect for his senior.

Suyeon took a video of the incident and emailed it to you. Fulfilling her duty as your bestfriend. (Much later it would make rounds on the the boys phones.. Taehyung even gotted a screenshot of jungkooks face printed on a shirt for Christmas)

Still Jungkook left a hand cream on your bed for you. And just like that the second day ended with Jungkook grumbling to himself as he finished checking up on everything that needed to be done for the night. Complaining to the cactus pen he'd borrowed from Namjoon.

Authur's note: happy namkook month every one. I hope you're doing well. I finally finished this. I finally got to writing after watching Run Jin. Him coming back has like healed me. So I thought it would be nice to post this. Anyway please let me know your thoughts as always. I love hearing them. And remember to like and repost.

Permanent Masterlist: @mintsugarmy : @exfolitae : @cryingpages

Series Masterlist: @jaiuneamesolitaiire ; @goooood-vibes ; @juju-227592 ; @singukieee ; @zae007live ; @rainbow-bunny-bts ; @fluffy-canada-pancakes ; @bleubirdinthesky ; @kyrah-williams ; @thedarkwinterrose ; @realswimshaddy ; @emu007 ; @jcrml ; @scuzmunkie ; @angel-121 ; @passionandsuga ;@popcatx0 ; @raineandskye ; @notsooperfect ; @toriluvsfics ; @northspiritstorm ; @parapiop7 ;

[suzukiblu]

Day seven of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

Kon zips up to Tim, puts the little clay goat in his hands with a quick "hold this," because he is clearly not aware of how the oils on people's hands can damage this kind of thing or concerned about how magic or cursed it may or may not be, and deals with the panicked thieves. Tim shakes the sleeves of his jacket down over his hands to hold the goat more carefully and watches attentively as Kon tosses them all into a pile and then ties them up with a combination of TTK and velvet divider ropes. Tim would not typically use velvet divider ropes as restraints, but imagines that choice probably works better with telekinetic reinforcement behind it.

Actually, it definitely does, because Kon just whapped Lisa upside the back of the head with a loose end of the heavy velvet divider rope when she started trying to squirm free. 

"Ow!" she yells indignantly. 

"How's that whole 'the idol will protect us!' thing going for you now?" Kon asks curiously. 

"You don't know the shape of its blessing!" Mark snarls, attempting to kick him. The effort is futile and pathetic and also pretty stupid, since if he actually managed to hit Kon he'd probably just break his foot on him, but whatever, not Tim's problem. 

"The shape of its blessing is a cute goat and a jail cell," Kon says. 

"We should probably find a staff member to take this, on that note," Tim says, glancing around for one. There's got to be somebody. The guards are an option, he guesses, once Kon gets around to untying them. But he definitely should not still be holding this goat, even with his sleeves tucked over his hands and him being as careful as he reasonably can about it. 

Seriously. Somewhere a museum curator is crying and doesn't even know why. 

"Oh, sure," Kon says. The guards' restraints all simultaneously fall off. Unfortunately, none of them happen to be wearing gloves or have sleeves as long as Tim's, so that's going to be an issue. 

"Thanks," Tim says anyway.

"Eh, it was nothing," Kon replies with a shrug. "Literally, this whole situation was nothing. Like, this situation was the opposite of a situation. Nothing even happened." 

And then Tim just . . . has an idea, almost. Or at least the nucleus of one. 

"You did save my life, actually," he points out, making his tone politely appreciative but also carefully casual. 

"No offense, but I save a lot of people's lives, that doesn't really stick out in my day-to-day activities," Kon says. 

"I don't know, it stuck out a bit for me," Tim says, and Kon laughs. 

"Okay, fair," he says, flashing him a grin. "You're not actually hurt or anything, right? Eardrum didn't rupture when the gun went off?" 

"Doubt it," Tim says. Frankly he's unspeakably lucky that it didn't, but Kon's TTK probably did block at least some of the sound. 

He really didn't know Kon could use it like this, to be honest. Kon cracks out his TTK every chance he gets and brags the whole time he does, obviously, but Tim's never seen him manipulate it quite this way. 

It occurs to him to wonder if that means it's a new trick, or if Kon just always wraps up hostages or threatened civilians in his aura like that and just never mentions it. It seems likelier it'd be a new trick, considering literally everything he knows about Kon and his desperate and unsubtle need for validation and attention, but Kon was so unshakeably confident in the move–and not in a brash or blustering way, but in an obvious, matter-of-fact certainty. Like he'd done it a thousand times and it hadn't failed him yet. 

Tim should definitely figure out a way to follow up on that later. 

"Cool," Kon says, then looks around the gallery again. Tim feels oddly bereft without his immediate focus. 

Stupid, stupid inadvisable crush. Ugh. Bats don't want to be the center of anyone's attention unless they're deliberately drawing fire away from someone else. Tim definitely doesn't want to be the center of anyone's attention. 

Except, apparently, for Kon's. 

This incident report is going to be nothing but lies. Filthy, shameless lies.

[gabessquishytum]

This is just crack.

It did not take all that long for Eleanor to figure out that there was something strange about Hob. He is a lovely man and she considers herself lucky to call him her husband but some things are just not adding up.

Does finding out he is immortal make her freak out a little bit? Of course. It's the 16th century and she is definitely considering the possibility of Hob being a demon or having sold his soul to one. He doesn't seem like the type for it but who knows?

The crisis blows over fairly quickly because (1) he is an amazing husband (2) if demons are involved she is already damned by now so what's there to lose? and (3) based on what she hears from her friends this is the best sex anyone has ever had so.... fuck it. Literally. She'll fuck a demon if the demon is a good husband who is amazing in bed.

You cannot convince me Eleanor, one of Hob's greatest loves, was not also completely feral and unhinged. They were bisexual monsterfuckers before it was cool.

-🍃

Oh I am CONVINCED that the Gadlens were the most notoriously weird couple to ever live in Tudor England.

A husband??? Who loves his wife??? That’s totally unfashionable and cringey to all the other aristocratic folks. Even worse, he puts actual time and effort into spending time with his son, wtf. When the other lords ask him if he’s not worried that his wife has only given him the one heir he’s all like “oh actually I insisted we try to wait a while before having another one, having Robyn was very hard on her.” WEIRD, SUPER WEIRD.

Eleanor’s lady friends are secretly totally jealous of her. Her husband encourages her to do all kinds of things and doesn’t care if she has hobbies, and he’s super stoked when he finds out that she can read Latin and Greek. Eleanor has also hinted about him doing all kinds of interesting things with his mouth which frankly sound quite sinful but also very very enjoyable.

My favourite 1589 kinky headcanon is that the Gadlens were swingers who regularly took other people to bed. Also, cucking kink from both perspectives, they both loved watching each other get fucked. I just can’t imagine that 1589 Hob didn’t get regularly railed by Marlow. If Dream hadn’t fucked off with Shakespeare he totally could have had a kinky Tudor threesome with Hob and his hot wife :(((

[eddieredmayneargentinablog]

Beautiful interview with Cabaret cast member Marcia/Marty Lauter (Victor/The Emcee) for Out Magazine, published on July 31, 2024.

"Drag Race's Marcia talks Cabaret, Eddie Redmayne & viral Tonys performance (exclusive)"

Excerpts:

"In 2024, Lauter is not only playing Victor in the current Broadway revival of Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club, but they're also the understudy for Academy Award-winning actor Eddie Redmayne in his role as the Emcee. This is a big opportunity, as well as a huge responsibility, for an emerging theater performer — and Lauter is very aware of these high stakes. "The show itself has been an incredible gift. It's such a momentous revival, and it's been very talked about". Lauter tells Out in an exclusive interview. "It's been quite divisive among certain people, but it's been so incredible. More than anything, it's taught me how to use any kind of nerves and anxiety, and to channel them into something useful. Never in a million years would I have thought that I'd be doing this with Eddie Redmayne and playing [the Emcee] every once in a while."Victor is still Lauter's primary role in Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club, but the actor was scheduled to play the Emcee on three different dates throughout July and remains understudy for that character in Redmayne's absence. "It's just such a giant, very famous role," they add. "Getting to put my perspective on it and seeing people respond so positively has been very fulfilling and very affirming."

"Exciting as it is to play the Emcee as an understudy, Lauter explains that Redmayne has been very present for this production. "I think because this is the Broadway, New York City premiere of this version of Cabaret, he has so much passion and dedication for this project," Lauter says. "He's truly there all the time and never left the theater for more than a day. It's so impressive, frankly, because this role is very difficult." They continue, "There are so many drastic makeup changes, and the show is three hours long. You're singing a lot, you're yelling a lot, you're talking a lot… it's just a lot of energy. Because of the nature of the show, you're constantly engaging with people. It requires you to be very present and very energetic. I don't think he's actually ever really called out once, which is unbelievable to me, because doing the Emcee is very, very hard". YouTube essayist Kayla Says explains in a video about Cabaret that "as you're following the relationships and the journeys of these characters, you're slowly seeing aspects of the Nazi government creeping into the plot." For a while, the Kit Kat Club's patrons are able to "turn a blind eye" to the evil doings happening outside the venue. But as the show unfolds, the Emcee's outfits and overall disposition lead to a nuanced understanding of how the story progresses".

Lauter was also present at the 77th Tony Awards, which aired live on CBS on June 16. The ceremony featured a special performance of "Willkommen," the opening number of Cabaret at the Kit Kat Club, with Lauter playing Victor in the ensemble. "Luckily, the version of the number that we did at the Tony Awards was very close to what we do on stage every night, so I wasn't super nervous about messing anything up. That was good," Lauter explains. "But the rehearsal process for the Tonys can be quite strenuous. You're still doing all eight shows in the week leading up to the ceremony, and you're also getting to [the David H. Koch Theater] at 8 a.m. for camera-blocking rehearsal. You're also going to a recording studio to record the ensemble vocals, and you go back for another dress rehearsal." "The day of the Tonys is very exhausting," the actor recalls. "Broadway shows usually do a matinee that Sunday, but we didn't, so we were lucky. We just had to get up, do our dress rehearsal, go home, and come back that night. The night of your performance, the way it works, you literally get on a bus, get off the bus, do the number, leave the building immediately, and get back on the bus." Wait, so the ensemble of a Tony-nominated hit musical can't stay for the ceremony?! "We're all in our costumes and wigs and everything, which is all incredibly expensive, and we have to keep in theater," Lauter says. "We have to get dressed and get undressed in the theater. All the nominees get to sit and watch, of course. But yeah, it's kind of an unknown thing about the Tony Awards. Unless you've purchased a ticket or you're nominated, you're not in the building except for your number. But it's also kind of nice, because you get to celebrate right when you're done."

"That number, 'Willkommen,' is supposed to be the show itself," Lauter explains when asked about that performance going viral. "It can be fun at the beginning, but it has this underbelly that you can kind of sense that something isn't quite right. I mean, I think it's unfair to judge anything without seeing it in its entirety, especially in a musical, which has a narrative. You wouldn't watch the first two minutes of a movie and say, 'This is bad' or, 'This is not what it should be.'" Lauter continues, "The point of a revival is to show you something different and highlight different elements of a piece of work so you can view it from a different perspective. I think our production absolutely does that. So yeah, if people have issues with it, come see the show! Don't just watch a three-minute number. You can't really make that call unless you see the whole thing."

"When it comes to working with Redmayne, Lauter confesses to feeling some initial trepidation. "It's a very daunting thing to understudy him. You're kind of like, 'Oh, people wanted to see Eddie Redmayne, and now it's me,'" they explain. "But he's truly so generous and welcoming. After my first show, I knocked on his door because I had left my water bottle in his room. He was like, 'Oh my god, how did it go? How are you feeling? Tell me everything!'" Lauter adds, "He's so invested in all of us. The people that understudy him are myself and another actor, David Merino, who plays Lulu usually in the show. Whenever the three of us are together, he always refers to it as 'our part,' which is very sweet and very selfless of him. He's been unbelievably kind, and he wrote me the sweetest debut letter. He makes these cards and paints them. He's just the best. Eddie is so sweet."

"I'm trying to not give anything away, but our Cabaret is told from the perspective of people who are othered or marginalized. Our cast has a wide range of people with different ages, genders, races, body types, and sexualities. We kind of run the gamut of the human experience," Lauter says. "There's a song at the end of the show that Bebe Neuwirth sings, 'What Would You Do?' that is really the heart of it. When things get really bad and really scary, what are you going to do?"

The actor adds, "Our production hits on a very nuanced topic. Sometimes, even marginalized people will marginalize other people for survival. When I play Victor, for example, I'm white in real life as well. In the show, I'm also very blonde and have a beautiful bowl cut. So, amongst the cast, Victor will probably have the easiest time assimilating into [those circumstances]. The journey of the show is very different for all of us.""This show is so evocative of what's happening in the world right now," Lauter notes. "It's like a reminder to be extra conscious in your life, aware of what the people around you need, and understand that you may not be in the most dangerous position at this particular moment. But you should raise your voice and stand for the people who need help."

[nohoperadio]

Oh, hello. That's right, I'm in Bristol, thanks for noticing. I had some business to conduct with some goats, which has just lately concluded. It went very well.

Definitely the best time I've ever had seeing them. It helps a lot that Mr Jon Wurster was present, the last several times I saw them goats it was the drumless version, which is still good but having him makes a huge difference. I hope the fandom at large understands just how special Jon Wurster is, I feel like we have a proportion of people who really do Only Listen To the Mountain Goats or close to it, which is fine as long as you appreciate how lucky we are, the man is a fuckin... like I wanna say he's a fuckin beast but I need to convey that his drumming has tremendous power but also great intelligence and artistry. He's like a fuckin, a beast who's a wizard as well. You know?

Great set list tonight, and although I was rude about the newer albums on here a week or two ago, I have to report that every song they played from the past ten years (there were about 6?) was one I was actively excited to hear. Not that these were new revelations to me, I already knew they were bangers, but it's good to be reminded that they are still putting out some bangers and I'm glad to see the band agrees with me about which ones those are. Or I just got lucky tonight, but fine I can be glad about that too.

It's an open question in my worthless opinion whether Matt Douglas and his contributions have been a net positive on tMG's recorded output, but there's no possible doubt he's been a huge positive to their live presence. There were several moments during the show that made me audibly gasp, or put my hand to my heart, or say out loud "oh fuck", or make some other melodramatic gesture, and a good many of those moments were directly Matt's doing. Also, what a great face he's got? Absolutely iconic face, inspires a combination of enthusiasm and trust otherwise elicited by only the very best dogs.

I love Stabbed to Death but would never have expected it to be a highlight of the gig like it was, I can't describe the mad shit they did with it but I can tell you it was gripping.

I only contributed my voice to I think three songs towards the end, most prominently the best No Children I've ever experienced, but managed to give myself a sore throat anyway. Don't worry, it was mild enough merely to contribute to the atmosphere. I must admit that despite being an annoying hipster who thinks This Year is just a pretty good B+ song, I did get swept up by the spirit of it this time.

It's been a firm and settled matter in my mind for years now that Beat the Champ is the third best album (Tallahassee second, WSABH first), but the last song of the encore was Heel Turn 2 and as the first chords sounded I was instantly and forcefully struck with the thought: "wait, is Beat the Champ actually the best Mountain Goats album??" I feel quite perturbed. I am going to have to think.

There was some kind of throuple directly in front of me who were all dancing with indefatigable abandon and frankly excessive horniness throughout the show, and it's a testament to the excellent general atmosphere, to my good mood, and I suppose also to their winsome spiritedness that I was for the most part simply charmed by this. Normally any stranger being conspicuously happy and in love is enough to fill my shrivelled lonely heart with black bilious resentment, but tonight, quite the opposite. That's part of the magic of them goats, you know.

[aladaylessecondblog]

the life you knew before (good tav/gortash pt. 4)

Previous chapter here

Banter, and sex (obviously). Enjoy :)

---------------------------------------

Tav stood, mind off like a shot. Cazador she had seen several times in the eight months she had been Duchess Gortash, and somehow it had entirely slipped her mind to talk to him about...the situation.

How, how could I forget about CAZADOR?

The same way you forgot about ME, my dear, returned Astarion's voice in her head.

"Lord Szarr," Tav gave a slight curtsy, "A pleasure to see you. I almost didn't recognize you, so rarely do I see you outside your palace."

"And so rarely do any see you outside the city."

"True enough," she replied, "I've had so much to do...but I have had rather a...taxing day. I found time in nature and with...old friends...a better prospect than remaining behind stone walls."

Cazador did not respond to that, but took a step forward and looked down on the gravestone.

"Were you--"

"Who is this Halsin?" he interrupted and gestured at the carving atop the headstone. "Don't tell me Astarion went and wed himself to a bear."

"A druid...he did love to stay in his wildshape much of the time. Were you...familiar with Astarion?"

She hated to pretend it, but she also knew it was a good idea to act as though she did not know what he was. For now.

"Perhaps we might call him a bastard son, for certainly he acted like one. Running off like a slave, cavorting with--animals..."

Is he daring me to say something?

Cazador then turned those eyes on her. "And you say you loved him."

"I--did, yes. Before I met the Archduke, of course." She looked at the gravestone and gave a soft smile. "It was strange how long it took to earn his trust. He was running from something, I think."

"He always was a fearful sort. I assume you were the one to bury him? The one to make this gravestone?"

Tav took a deep breath before she answered. "I was, yes."

"Quite frankly, it surprises me that you would bother."

His voice was so severe; it made her think she'd done something wrong. She resented the feeling, but tried to keep her tone polite.

"Every man deserves a proper grave," she replied evenly. "I did not know him long, but...for that time, he was..."

It had started with wanting him, as she was sure he had intended. Then it had become oh-so-much more, and now...now, she didn't know.

She bowed her head just slightly.

"One might think you are unhappy in your marriage, if you pine so over a dead man," Cazador said then. "I cannot think the Archduke would approve."

"He knows of this...former romance. And he knows--" Tav gulped just slightly before going on, "--he knows, really, that 'tis he who holds my heart now. It is just that every so often...I think of the past, and what might have been."

"A life in the trees amongst the beasts is not fit to be lived." The sternness had a slight edge in it now, "You are lucky to have the Archduke to show you that there is more to life than speaking to those who have nothing to say worth hearing."

"It would have been good enough for me. My poor pale elf could have used a few colorful flowers in his hair."

With that she turned and began to walk away.

(The spawn who had been holding the umbrella over her head seemed to tense; she actually saw his eyes widening into fear when she looked.)

"I wasn't done speaking to you," Cazador said.

"I was done listening." It was out before she could stop it.

"One might think badly of a lady who makes so free with those above her."

"The only man above me is the Archduke, Lord Szarr. Unless you have plans to ascend to a crown."

She turned back briefly.

"One never knows what might happen," Cazador said in a darker tone, "I am surprised, you know, that you have so sharp a tongue. I expected nothing like this from so subservient a woman."

"I am such to my husband and no one else."

It was the last thing she said to him as she walked away. There was a strange thrill and yet a fear with it when she heard Cazador seething.

-----------------------------------

"Someone's been acting up today."

Tav had been standing by the window, staring out at the ships passing on the water for nearly an hour when she felt Gortash's hands on her hips.

"Your lady is only feverish," she said quietly, "An illness she caught tending to the needs of the people..."

"Of course she will require several days of rest to recover. After all, her loyalty is well known...and anything that could make her say such terrible things in earshot of others, well..."

It was easy, so easy, to relax into his touch. To gently cover the hands that slid forward and around the bump of her belly and feel...well, she didn't know what she was feeling. But she couldn't think that it was wrong anymore.

And even that fact was not scary any longer.

"When are you going to grow angry?" Tav asked after a long silence. "Throw something, perhaps...or have me locked away for making you look foolish?"

"Is that what you think of me?" Gortash's voice was softer than she had yet heard it. "I wasn't lying when I told you that you had nothing to fear from me."

Please... She gulped softly and begged silently, as she had been begging for months now. Stop being like this. Like someone I could...

To distract herself Tav looked out the window. The sun was setting in brilliant reds and golds, with a single dark ship passing on the horizon.

"You were a decision I made in haste, and I presume the same could be said from your position. But must you keep yourself in this state of agony? I'm sure you don't wish to be there." There was the lightest of grips at her belly. "And it's certainly not good for the child."

Deep breath.

She thought of Astarion, the first time he was comfortable participating in the lovemaking with Halsin. The first time she had woken up with the two of them. The last smiles she'd seen from either of them.

Then...

Then those thoughts turned to Gortash. The dances she had with him at the wedding, the smiles he gave at balls later on...the way he went about showing his interest. He was for every appearance a perfect gentleman...except in the bedroom, where he did things that made her weak in the knees. Where he left her wanting only to push her to greater heights of desire.

And where of late she slept beside him more often than not.

Tav opened her eyes and saw that the ship on the horizon was gone.

"You have not been what I expected," Tav replied, "Everything since the tadpole has been an endless series of unpleasant surprises. I could scarcely lay down my head without being woken by some problem, some fight...and then...then I lost everything."

Where was this coming from? Why was she saying all this this? She hardly knew. Her emotions were a horrible typhoon centered around the calm that he'd created. She had now been his wife longer than she had ever been with Astarion or Halsin...and there was a space shaped like him forming in her mind.

"I'm afraid to be at rest." she added "Because when all is quiet..."

She waited--waited for some mocking, some cutting remark she was sure was coming. But none did.

Deep breath.

"The nastiness comes out. My poor bride, dealing with so much...and alone. You really needn't do that. After all, how well can you help me handle this city if you are so burdened?"

"I didn't know whether I could trust you then...and now...and now..."

"We should lay down," Gortash said, "Clearly, you're in need of rest."

Tav relaxed and allowed herself to be lead to her bed, and was glad when he joined her. Even more so when she realized he was clad as he had been that first night, with one difference--this time, he wasn't wearing the gauntlet. Just that pair of black trousers...

"Something set this off," he said gently in her ear. "I want to know what set it off."

"I..." she took a deep breath as Gortash reached a hand up to stroke at her face. "I visited the...the grave, and...there's something--someone you should know about. I was...afraid to mention it because he's..."

"Did he harm you?"

"No, but...he could be dangerous to you at some point soon. I forgot all about him with the...the uh...what lead to my marrying you."

She was glad. So very, very glad, that he was really listening to her right now.

"Cazador." Tav said, "He was...Astarion's...sire. A vampire...and one of the most abusive pieces of shit I've ever heard of, if the way Astarion acted was any indication. I had been planning to deal with him--"

"Unsurprising," Gortash replied, "The man was always odd and reclusive, and while I had my suspicions..."

"And I may have upset him by not...paying him what he saw as his due. He's planning some sort of ritual..."

Here she explained what she knew of Cazador and his plans for ascension, and while Gortash quickly began to look more severe, at least he didn't vent any of that potential anger on her.

"I must inform the guards about that. Noble or not, I'll not have him steal what I've worked so hard for." He smirked slightly and pressed a brief kiss to her lips. "And I'll not have YOU risking either your life or my heir's by going after him."

"I've helped imprison Mizora--the former patron of the Grand Duke. I've assisted in the killing of a cambion..."

"Really, now."

"Raphael never stood a chance. Foolish man...and very stupid, too, telling me he had something I wanted, and by extension where to find it WITHOUT taking his deal."

There was something in Gortash's face then that she had never seen before.

Shock.

"I...presume...that you are not talking about th--"

"Raphael of the House of Hope, the one who wanted me to hand over the crown to him so he could become king of the hells or something along those lines."

"And you are...quite certain...that he is dead?"

"Certain as the sunrise," Tav replied. "He'd been a smoothtalking pain in my ass for too long for me NOT to kill him."

A pause...and then, from nowhere--one second, Gortash was laying beside her, looking her in the eye. The next, his lips were on hers and he was moving over her.

"Eager," she got out quickly, and when he let her break for air she added, "Aren't we?"

He didn't answer. There was a pause, and then, in rather an awkward dance she reached down to pull up the hem of her gown as his hands moved down to rid himself of his trousers.

"Off," he demanded, once he was bare before her, as he tugged her gown up and over her head. He yanked off her underclothes and moved atop her, planting another hot kiss on her lips.

Tav returned the kiss, and awkwardly shifted beneath Gortash as she spread her legs for him. And despite the awkward maneuvering due to her swollen belly, they contented themselves like this for several minutes.

He seemed to want to say something at one point--but then apparently thought better of it, and settled for pressing his hard cock against her wet heat and thrusting inwards a moment later. Tav groaned, and reached up, wanting to hold SOMETHING. Her hands ended up on his shoulders.

"Please," she said, meeting his eyes, "I want--"

It was what usually excited him. Her begging, pleading to be fucked, yet somehow this time, she didn't need to say any more. He drew back and pushed forward in rapid thrusts that were pushing her high already from how deep they were hitting.

More, more, MORE

Tav's nails clenched at the skin of his shoulders, and her knees squeezed at his sides as his hips rocked against hers. Gods above, how badly she suddenly wanted to kiss him again!

But there would be none of that, only the repeated invasions of his cock, spearing and spreading her around him as he vented whatever in the hell this was.

"More," she moaned softly, "More..."

She needed him now, wanted to feel him within her, to be reminded of what passion lay behind that dark smirking face of his.

And he was going to give it to her.

Gortash's thrusts grew faster and faster still. He braced himself with one hand and lowered his face, only just far enough away from hers to prevent a kiss. But she could see it now, the expression, the desperate need for her, the agonizing pleasure he felt as the climb begin.

It was like he wanted her to see his ecstasy, to witness what he was drawing from her.

"Harder--"

It sparked suddenly, unexpectedly, and Tav forced herself to keep that eye contact as the pleasure seized and burned through her body in rapid wildfire.

"Oh, gods!"

She moaned for Gortash, let him hear her pleasure, let him see the look in her eyes as she let go. It lifted her high, so high, so achingly keen, and then dropped her back into the warm sea of the afterglow.

Faster, and faster still. She was still sensitive but he was thrusting hard, lust driving him onward with no coherent thought or reason other than fuck. She bore with it, bringing her heels up to dig into his ass and encourage him to go deeper still.

No moment of hesitation appeared, as sometimes it had since first they had been married.

Tav kept his gaze, and it was exhilarating. He was close, so close, and for once she was focused solely on that, on seeing his pleasure, taking it in in every sense of the word.

On an inward thrust, as he sheathed himself entirely inside her, it struck him. His cock pulsed and he went empty inside her in three warm waves of lusty heat that rose threatening to drown him.

Gingerly, Gortash withdrew from her and curled close, as though all the troubles of the world melted away with his head on her chest.

For all his scolding that she needed to relax, Tav realized--as she raised a hand to tangle its fingers in his hair--that this was the first time she had ever seen him do so.

[linnorabeifong]

Hi!!! Do you have any Linzolt wedding headcanons?

oooooooh I love the idea of a Linzolt wedding so much it makes my heart warm.

Tbh it varies by what life stage they’re in.

They’re one on of those couples that I see being on and off again in their youths but are lucky enough to reunite later in life. They live vastly different life styles and are both troubled. Over time from other relationships and just normal maturing they both become better at communicating and so when they reconnect they realize how this relationship is special compared to their past ones and are now more willing to make it work and have the skills to do so.

I could see them being together for decades and never marrying or tying the knot after reconnecting because they realized they never wanted to be with anyone else and wanted to formally commit to one another even if they continue keeping their relationship under wraps.

I could see young LinZolt hurriedly and secretly tying the knot. A court house wedding. Zolt wore his best suit (which wasn’t the best as he was quite broke in his youth) and Lin wearing a simple dress. She never wanted the pomp and circumstance so this is ideal for her but Zolt likes spectacle. He would feel bad about about not doing more because he treasures Lin and wants to spoil her. They wouldn’t tell her family because her grandparents and the original Gaang wouldn’t approve of her relationship. Her sister and mother would be estranged at this point so she definitely wouldn’t tell them. They probably wouldn’t have a honeymoon.

Older Linzolt ? They’re eloping in the fire nation. Beautiful ceremony just the two of them at the top of the most stunning mountain. The wedding attire would be more elaborate and traditional. In old age they’ve come to appreciate traditions and become more in touch with their cultures and roots. Having a traditional fire nation wedding is a big deal to both of them because Lin was denied that part of her lineage for so long and Zolt growing up in the city feels estranged from his roots. It would be healing for both of them. Their honeymoon would be spent soaking in hot springs, swimming, relaxing on the beach and drinking fire whiskey on the balcony of their vacation home.

Lin still didn’t invite her family because Su would’ve made the wedding a fuss and Lin frankly doesn’t want Toph’s approval or opinion on her relationship anymore. Zolt was there for her when they were not. So even if she loves them she still doesn’t want them there.

Lin continues keeping their relationship secret for the sake of her career. But the second she retires she’s changing her last name to Lightning. The weight of the Beifong legacy is a lot on her so this decision was agonizing but it was like a weight off her shoulders once she did it. She’s still a Beifong but she’s Lin and she’s his and she is more than her ancestor’s legacy. Having a fire nation last name also connects her to her fathers lineage which was hidden from her for so long.

Zolt of course after loosing his bending is retired from the triple threats I could see him being Lin’s house husband. He loves taking care of her and the home that they have together . He’s making up for all the lost time. Maybe they adopt a few pets or even children after a while.

Sorry for the rambling and thank you for the ask.

[valaruakars]

Wreathe Me in Darkness, My Earthly Flesh and Blood (1/4)

Viktor/F!Reader || 4.6k || Historical Vampire AU || NSFW || AO3 Link

“On an evening just after the autumn equinox, a fire lit to warm and brighten the study, you shake his cold, bony hand and make the acquaintance of Viktor.”  Alternatively: In the early years of your long, long life, you unwittingly fall for a vampire.

Warnings: Stalking mention, jealousy, non-consensual vampirism, so much blood, near death experience, implied murder, teacher/student dynamic, masturbation, vampire spit but make it a mind-numbing aphrodisiac, fingering, dacryphilia if you squint, he’s not evil but he’s not good either, “nausea inducing but in a pussyclenching way” - tumblr user @weltraum-vaquero

Mind! Those! Warnings! Anyways, here’s what I started last week for Halloween and then got too carried away with to keep as a oneshot. Never been known for brevity, sorry. Y’all are gonna have questions, and there will eventually be answers, don’t worry. As always, thanks to the babygirl gang for encouraging me to get fucked up with it for fun 🖤

The year is 1903, you are yet still young, and a small tragedy befalls your household.

One day your hale and healthy tutor is sitting with you in the study, inking corrections onto your arithmetic, though it needs very few. The next, a courier is on the steps of your rowhouse, and you are intercepting a letter from him—no, wait. From his family, actually.

You learn that when you open it. You also learn that he has passed away.

People talk, of course. You listen. And so you come to hear that a man was mauled by an animal in the park across town on that very same night. But it couldn’t be him, right? He was older and did not live in that direction. The letter made it sound so peaceful a departure. You imagined him passing in his sleep. It couldn’t be him.

Out of respect, a week passes and you languish with the literature he left you. Your studies are important and you are lucky to have them, even if they happen at home and not in some great, mahogany lecture hall. That doesn’t stop you from watching out your pretty window as the local boys come and go from the university, your face dark with envy. A week is too long to read and read with no instruction. Who will you discuss The Picture of Dorian Gray with while it remains fresh in your mind? Should you not be honoring his memory by finding a new tutor posthaste?

You bring it up at dinner that night. You get what you want easily. Even better, your new tutor is found quite quickly.

And thus, on an evening just after the autumn equinox, a fire lit to warm and brighten the study, you shake his cold, bony hand and make the acquaintance of Viktor.

Just Viktor.

He’s not very tall, hollow in the face, and walks with a pronounced limp. He cannot be much older than you, but he exudes an intelligence beyond his years. An old soul, the housekeeper said. His eyes are startlingly sharp, so bright a brown you could really call them amber, honey, or high karat gold. Any of those, certainly, but beautiful suits best. They are his most magnetic feature, aside from the weapon that is his voice. He could use it to have you do anything, surely, but he mostly uses it to correct your pronunciation when you study French or to scold you when your mind drifts reading bone dry Tolstoy. 

He comes in the dark and leaves in the dark, and after the first time you make him laugh hard enough to see that one of his canines is both crooked and freakishly pointy, you wish he’d stay longer.

He’s familiar, somehow. Night after night you can’t place it. Can’t even tell what exactly is familiar about him. But how could you?

You didn’t know, yet, that he’d been watching you.

It would be a long time before you knew that.

Years.

They pass quickly, in the spring of your life. But the springs and summers themselves pass without Viktor. So much sunlight, and yet they become the darkest part of your year, when he returns to Prague. Frankly, you don’t understand why he ever leaves. It’s beautiful, from the few pictures you’ve seen and the way he’s described it. You wish he’d write, or perhaps send you a small postcard. He never does, that first year he departs and leaves you in the hands of a boring, retired headmaster for those six long months. You check the mail every day and receive nothing but a formal, dispassionate notice that come October he intends to return to his post. No return address.

When he does, it’s as if he never left. He tucks himself up to the old oak table in front of the fireplace, just across from you, and it’s much like opening a bookmarked page. For a moment, lost to excitement, you feel brave enough to ask him personal questions. He does not like personal questions. He considers them a breach of formality between teacher and pupil. But emboldened, you finally ask what prevents him from starting your sessions earlier. Surely your family could afford more of his time? That’s all you want. You enjoy these lessons so.

He smiles. It’s a thin-lipped thing, but always sincere when you earn one. “I spend my days at the University. There is much to be learned here, many advancements in science, that I might take back home and share. I cannot come to you any sooner.”

Your fingers trace the gilt lettering of the book before you. “I like to walk near the school grounds, you know.” The fire is rather warm. You look at it, not at him. “I might wait for you. We might walk together. You might instruct me as we do.”

He laughs at your boldness, but a quiet chuckle. “Unattended? I believe your family would be quite upset.”

“Are we not unattended now?” you counter. And indeed, you are alone with the pocket doors drawn shut to keep out distraction, because Viktor is Viktor and he is no threat to your modesty. So they believe. It’s an utter disservice to him. “You would make a perfectly fit chaperone.”

His hand is cold and soft when it takes yours across the table—takes you by surprise, too. You’re stunned by the warmth of the gesture. “Wait for me here, please,” he asks, and you agree rather bonelessly.

You do not bring it up again. You reach a threshold for bravery you cannot surpass on the very first day of that season. But when the next spring approaches and you grow desperate, you ask if he might write to you. He politely refuses. The spring after that—because once when he looked especially ill, he put his hand on your knee and that certainly meant something, right?—you ask if he might leave a picture for you to pray over for his safe return. You have no higher power to pray to, but he need not know it would go under your pillow or into a locket, in truth. He politely, shyly refuses that too.

The year is suddenly 1908. By the time you’ve spent twenty five years on this earth, and he has come and gone four times, you are properly in love with him. How interesting it is, to love a man you know so little about. But surely, you do.

Which is why it’s a shame that you next turn twenty six and are betrothed by your family to the first man that will take a woman of your age, who is too intelligent for her own good. You’ve grown mouthy, with a thirst for independence that doesn’t befit your station. You’re becoming a burden; have overstayed your welcome in the very home you grew up in. You’ve also sabotaged every courtship attempt you’ve been subjected to in the last few years, one man on your mind, until now the choice has been taken from you. You wanted it back.

More than anything, you wanted Viktor to come back; to fall into his arms and sob; to at least be able to write him a tear stained letter saying this is the last winter you’ll ever spend together. But you had to wait another agonizing month. During it, you found fragile acceptance. This was always to be your fate. Viktor did not want you anyways.

So when he finally shows up to the door on his usual cold, dark evening and the housekeeper escorts him inside, you calmly wait in the study. No tears, no dramatics; just you, standing before the fireplace to greet him. As always, he takes your hand as if to cordially shake it, but something different washes over his face, staring at yours. You didn’t recognize it then, but it was realization. You have one of your own, too, as you stand there and look long at the face of your one-sided friend. Whereas you have matured into your features, his have remained much the same. How jealous he must make people, to age so gracefully. Where did he hide his picture, your Dorian Gray? 

You invite him to sit and get off his feet—to settle into your usual places. And to follow the formula, you ask the same meaningless question you do each and every year: “I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

He’s supposed to say yes and promptly move on.

But instead he asks in a tone you’ve never, ever heard before: “What is that?” He’s looking at your hand. He sounds livid, and he’s looking at your hand. The stone perched in platinum upon your finger sparkles faintly in the low light, and you snatch your hand into your lap with a sigh. Suddenly, you do want to cry.

“As of a month ago, I find myself engaged,” you tell him like it’s a dull, passionless fact. Of course, you can’t bring yourself to look at him when you say it.

“…To be married?”

Your laugh is a humorless thing. “Of course, what else could I mean?” Then it occurs to you: “Why is it that you may ask me personal questions, but I may not ask you the same?”

“That is irrelevant,” he snaps, brute forcing the conversation to his strange ends. He reaches forward across the table to take your chin in his hand; to make you look at him. His hand is cold. Always so cold. His voice is softer this time; his thumb strokes across your cheek before he lets go. “Is this what you want?”

Nobody had asked you that. You shake your head no with such vigor that you can feel your hairpins shift against your scalp, fisting your dress white knuckled, but that can’t stop the truth now. “I want my freedom. I want control. I want…” You, but the way he’s looking at you steals that word away.

Who is this dark and wrathful and determined person sitting across from you? The one who says, “I will make it so,” like a promise, as though he has any bearing on the situation?

“How?” you whisper as conspiracy blooms thick in the space between you. “What could you do to prevent this?”

He snatches up his cane and gets to his feet, so resolute that he’s willing to abandon the session when he has never once before. “Give me time.”

And then he is gone. 

—-

You expect to wait, naturally. You’ve had years of practice waiting for him, though it’s different this time. You suddenly can’t predict what will happen; there is no formula to follow. But you’re almost certain, now…

He wants you too.

You dress for bed that night, crawl between the blankets, and spread your legs as if for him. You’ve done it many times. It’s all you’ve ever known. You’re quickly wet enough to slip in two fingers, to fuck yourself on them until you’re panting softly and whispering his name into the darkness. This house is old and solid; you have the only bedroom on the main floor. Nobody will hear.

But there’s footsteps in the hallway. You pause for them to pass, though who would walk this floor at so late an hour? It’s very late, indeed. Only at the last second do you realize that they’re not normal; they’re odd little clusters of three. Why is that familiar?

You withdraw your hand when the sound stops in front of your door. Something is wrong. A chill sweeps your body, and it slowly dawns on you that you are well and truly scared. Terrified as you lie paralyzed and watch the doorknob turn.

But before you see anything, there comes a voice from the shadows. It says, just a whisper: “It’s me. Please do not scream.”

You’d know that accent anywhere. And it’s true, as it has always been true, that Viktor’s voice could get you to do anything. You do not scream, though something deep and primally terrified of the dark says that you should. You simply sit up in bed and beckon him closer in a hurry. It’s not lost on you that he locks the door before he comes to sit on the edge, tenderly taking your bewildered face in his hands. Cold, cold, cold.

“How did you…?”

He shushes you softly and shakes his head. “Tell me again.”

Your lips part, confused, as you study his face so close to yours.

“Tell me again,” he repeats, “why you wish not to be married. The whole of it, please.”

You cannot deny him. It spills from you. “I want my freedom, truly. I have never wanted to be bound to someone else that way, and to be subject to the expectations that come with it. I was never made to be an obedient, maternal homemaker. My greatest love has been learning… with you, Viktor. We hardly spend much time together, and yet it means everything to me.”

For five years—sometimes long, sometimes short—have you wanted his attention like this. If you weren’t already so wet, you would be, with his languid, honeyed stare ticking back and forth from your eyes to your lips. He wets his own and whispers, “Go on.”

“You must know by now that I want you.” He is in your room, on your bed in the middle of the night and you did not scream, after all. It’s why you are suddenly emboldened to finally, finally look him in the eye. To take hold of his bony wrist where it yet cradles your face, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb sweet and slow. To confess: “I’ve loved you for years.”

”Oh, miláčku.…” he murmurs. His breath is faintly metallic, and the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. But why? It’s only Viktor. “You have yet to learn what love is. You have yet to learn what it is to love me. But I will show you, if that is what you wish.”

”I do,” you agree all too quickly, so scared of losing what you have only just gained. “Of course I do.”

It’s all the invitation he needs to kiss you. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. All that you’ve ever imagined, those slow, tentative, innocent little presses of your lips to his, quiet beneath the crackle of the dying fire. It’s only when your hand fists into his coat, pulling him in for more that the hunger starts to change—to build. You feel it keenly between your legs, a rhythmic throbbing that syncs up to your heart.

It worsens, deliciously, when he slips off his shoes and crawls into bed with you properly. When his kisses turn open-mouthed, and his tongue brushes past your lips. You find the taste of his mouth faintly metallic too and figure: Oh well. If you’re kissing a man with consumption, it’s far too late already. You cannot bring yourself to care about that or much else, the more he licks into your mouth and swallows down your soft, shameless whines. Your head swims thick with only thoughts of how good he makes you feel. When you reach for others—wait, did he ever say he loved you back?—they simply melt away.

You do not protest when his fingers pluck at the neckline of your shift. You do not feel a single shred of shyness when he pulls away to expose the swell of your chest and admire it. You are nothing but agreeable. Your limbs feel heavy. With great effort, you reach for his tie; fair is fair, and of course you want to see every inch of his body too. But he catches up your brash little hand quicker than you can blink.

The hand that holds you is gentle; the lips that lavish your skin are urgent. He kisses the pulse point of your wrist, drags his tongue over it so languidly—nothing short of worshipful. Your heart only beats faster, fluttering just there beneath your skin and his lips. His eyes fall closed in reverence, and he groans like he can sense his effect on you—sweet, low and needy. You are his echo, of course. You need more, and thus your left hand drags itself up your stomach to grasp and roll the stiff little bud of your nipple.

That is the first thing he notices when he opens his eyes, dark and blown, an amber eclipse. The second is the ring you’re still wearing.

“Remove it,” he hisses, and you don’t need to be told twice. You’d pitch it across the room if he hadn’t snatched and shoved it into his breast pocket first. For safekeeping, of course. He’s going to get you a better one, right? He said he was going to help.

Later, your mind whispers before the fog rolls back in. There is nothing to worry about, with Viktor. You are safe. You are wanted. Are you loved?

Your head lolls, heavy on your neck. Your skin tingles pleasantly everywhere he’s kissed it. “I want you to touch me,” you murmur, because he’s yet neglected where you need him most.

He shuffles you back into the bank of downy pillows against the headboard. His hand is on your thigh, hiking up your pretty white nightgown, and you part your legs for him eagerly. He looks perfect, crouched between them. “I have been touching you, moje lahůdka,” he huffs, bemused.

You pull it up higher still until it’s in a gossamer bunch above your hips. You want him to witness you swollen and glistening wet for him; to see the mess he makes of you untouched. “Here.”

His low, appreciative hum is resonant. He’s not truly interested in toying with you; does not hesitate to indulge in his wants or your own.

It’s better than you ever imagined, when his hand cups between your legs and the heel of his palm rubs your sweetest spot; when his fingers slide down the seam of you; when they catch the dip of your wet little cunt and press in sinfully slow. He watches, spellbound, as you writhe for friction and take two of his fingers to the hilt. That’s all he can stand before he swears beneath his breath, dragging you back against his mouth with a hand tangled in your hair. It’s a sloppy, inelegant kiss—perfectly debauched, the way he pants against your lips. He’s making you feel so, so good.

He deserves to feel good too, doesn’t he?

You reach down to palm the outline of his cock through those dark, woolen trousers. It punches a breath out of him, that gentle caress. His head drops to your shoulder, and your other hand fights gravity to stroke the soft, lovely hair at the nape of his neck; to soothe and encourage and hold fast to him. You seal your fate.

Viktor positively trembles, perhaps from the exertion of dragging his fingers in and out of you, as he kisses your neck tentatively. Licks your neck, a little more confidently. Scrapes his teeth against your neck, boldly. It feels divine, and you’re shaking too. The urge to scream rises in you again. You’re close to breaking, after all. You’re very, very close. That is nothing to be frightened of.

“Do you want this?” he whispers, his voice stripped raw. His lips wander lower and lower, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down your collarbone to the top of your breast. “Do you want me? Only me?”

And what can you say but, “Yes,” and, “Always,” as you beg him to make you cum?

The feeling is rapturous when he does, like white hot pleasure pulsing thick through every nerve, every vein. So transcendent it’s almost painful. Your eyes white out. You screw them shut against the explosion of sensation anyways, bright and all consuming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before from your own fingers, and it catches fire in your chest too—right where his lips are lavishing your breast. You writhe through it, nuzzling into his hair as you soundlessly sob and soak his fingers to the cadence of his soft, wet moans against your skin. Those quiet noises are so sweet.

Such a shame, that your heartbeat is starting to drown him out. Slower and slower, it thumps in your ears. You’re coming down already, aren’t you?

Something smells metallic again. Really, very metallic.

It still feels so good, though, like embers of pleasured bliss burning low in your body; like drifting asleep in the bath. It still feels good, even when he takes his hand from between your legs and grips your waist hard. His hand is warm and wet. Finally, you made him feel warm.

And you? Oh… You feel warm and wet too. Down the front of your body: Warm and wet and slick with your nightgown clinging to your skin like you sweated it through. From the intensity, you must’ve.

But it’s okay. Viktor won’t mind. Viktor, who is so very good to you; who cares for you so well. Sweet, shy, brilliant Viktor, you love him very much. You think of him always, even now. You stroke his dark, lovely hair. Or well… You try to. You can’t feel it—not his hair nor your fingers nor your hand. Your arm slips from his shoulders and drops, leaden, to the bed.

Lead. Metal. Copper.

You smell blood.

Fighting sleep’s embrace, there’s just enough willpower left in you to open your eyes. Your lashes are damp like you’ve started to cry. Have you? Feeling is fleeting, but Viktor is cradling your head. His touch is kind, his thumb sweeping soothing arcs against the top of your spinal cord. You can’t lift it, your head. You can hardly think. But you can see, for there is an old standing mirror where often you preened for your studious evenings together, or picked yourself apart for the features you imagined he didn’t care for. Though your vision swims, you are reflected in it as you always are.

Just you, alone in that mirror, hovering slack and painted red.

Viktor has no reflection.

One last desperate adrenaline spike has your head lolling forward. What you could feel and smell is all confirmed. Your eyes did not deceive you. Blood is seeping down your body from perfect little bite marks punctured into your breast, staining the white of your nightgown deepest, deathly crimson. And then there is Viktor—such a tender monster—cradling your limp body, deeply focused on drinking you down. 

You are bleeding out into the hungry maw of a vampire you so erringly loved.

Yes, vampire. It’s not a dream—you can tell. In the end, the only dream was that a predator might care for its prey. And it is the end. You are dying.

You do not want to die.

A scream well and truly rises in your throat now. Viktor feels it coming first and claps a bloody hand over your mouth. With slow, syrupy grace, he unlatches his teeth and rises from your lacerated breast, blood smeared and congealed around lips that’d kissed you so gently minutes ago. He does not wipe his mouth. “I did ask you not to scream,” he chides, leaning in to kiss away the tear slipping down your waxen cheek. Then another, and another, until your face is smeared red too and he’s laying your rag doll body back against the pillows. “You have nothing to fear from me. I would never truly hurt you.” He releases your mouth when you slacken fully, stroking back your hair. “Did it not feel good? I tried to make it feel good.”

You nod weakly. Your vision is rimmed in black.

He smiles. It’s that precious smile you remember from when he’s rather pleased with himself. You cannot see his teeth. “Come, let us fix this,” he says as your eyes slip closed. Then, urgently, he calls your name.

You’re distantly aware of something cold and seeping wet pressed to your lips; that he’s prying your mouth open and urging you to, “Drink. Please, please drink—you must,” in a voice far too scared to belong to a monster. Something truly putrid drips against your tongue, slips down the back of your throat. It burns like dry ice, and yet you frantically swallow it down. It’s vile, his blood, for that is surely what it is, and yet you crave more. More, more, more until your body wakes up, and you’re clutching his arm to your mouth because even if you’re not sure you want to be this—what he’s making you—it’s preferable to death. You want to live.

You drink deep from him, gulping and messy like it’s water and you’re parched, until he has to rip his arm from your clawing, iron grasp. The trance is broken, then. You’re promptly scrabbling back against the headboard, far away as you can get, breathing hard with burning lungs. It’s not reassuring that the way he’s staring at you is a reflection of your own face: Utterly horrified.

“What have you done?” you ask desperately, clutching at your naked chest. Your heart still beats scared and sure beneath your hands, somehow.

He calms and considers for a moment. “I have acted in accordance with your wishes,” he says slowly, as if he genuinely believes that to be true. “The freedom to be with me is now yours. You will be as I am.”

The audacity. To think you care about that, in this moment, after everything that has just transpired. Freedom, at what cost?

Your voice cuts a hysterical edge. “That was it? Was it really so simple to turn me?” In no significant way did you feel different, yet. Your body is warm, your heart still beats, and your teeth are normal when you touch them. You are not ready to believe that you will change.

He looks quite apologetic to tell you: “The painful part will follow, I’m afraid. Your body has not died yet.”

The tears come flowing unbidden, though you feel completely numb. They are normal too.

“You have a choice,” he tells you, scooting closer. You wipe the amalgamation of blood, snot and tears from your face and take his hand, for at the end of your human life, you were still needy. Indeed, he doesn’t care that you’re filthy; he kisses that hand all the same. You’ve been through a harrowing night, the two of you. And you will go through much, much more.

“You may either choose to stay and let the transformation run its course. Your family may watch you die, and ideally put you in the ground before they see you change. Or...” His hand tightens around yours. He has a preference. “You may gather your things and leave a note. Say that you have run away. With me, preferably; I would like them to know. Leave with me tonight, and I will do what I can to ease the suffering.”

That choice is how you end up on your knees, stoking the fire back to life in your bedside hearth. You cannot stay. Viktor feeds the flames your soiled, bloody linens in torn up shreds while you stuff a trunk with your favorite things. Everything burns but the nightgown you wore—he insists on keeping it as a token. A new one, but you don’t have the presence of mind to catch that implication. All you can manage is putting yourself back together and penning a note several times over until your script is clean and free of tremors; a note for which you will feel eternally guilty. Viktor approves, though.

You mention him. 

[bosskie]

Family Drama

I felt like drawing something silly to amuse myself since I have been feeling quite awful lately... So, I got inspired by one of those unreleased Slig news related to Molluck's trial, having Molluck and his mother, Lady Margaret, about to have a face off with boxing gloves.

Frankly, it has bothered me how badly I did draw her last time, at least in my opinion, so I liked to try it again too. Still not sure how her head should be drawn but I'm trying my best.

I really don't know if I should write this stuff or not... But well, I tend to spend like all my time alone with my thoughts... I have just been thinking that how difficult for me it is to see me having any skill/talent... How difficult for me is to feel like I 'deserve' any love... During my worst moments I can wish that everyone hated me so I was perished, erased from this world... But at the same time, one side of me wishes to be loved... It just made me cry when I looked at my newest self-insert sketch a moment ago, how loving Molluck seemed... I'm just only able to give love to myself thru him...

It's still just so difficult to see myself having future... I feel like I have already failed in life way too badly... I just keep having doubts, feel like no one probably wants me, to be with me, pay for my work etc... Even when it's said that I did great job, I just doubt it... It's driving me crazy... I just cannot even enjoy my 'achievements' when I feel like they were just luck or mere 'lucky mistakes'... I just don't believe in myself.

I'm not even sure if I'm healing well enough or at all actually when giving up has felt more tempting now... I just see no reasons to fight anymore, life makes zero sense to me... In my mind, I still see Molluck looking at me and telling me beautiful things, loving me... I don't know if I'm just crazy/nuts, to keep living just for a fictional character, when my mind just tells me so intensely to leave the real people, how I'm just wasting their time, resources, even love... Molluck ain't real, so I cannot really waste his time 'n' stuff, and that's why my mind accepts him better than real people.

I just live with mental pain every day, for some other reasons too I'm not telling. It's draining me, been living with it for over a decade... Back then, I thought that I wouldn't be even alive to this day but here I am, for whatever reason. I just don't know how to achieve happiness, haven't felt such a thing for so long, haven't been able to enjoy my life this whole time... My life is good, I have basically gotten all I have wanted but still, I feel so depressed, thinking that I don't deserve this all, that it would be better for everyone that I never even existed or that someone else was born instead of me... I'm just unable to see how I bring joy to the others, unable to feel loved... I never remember feeling such a thing, even as a child, even I have gotten so much love... It just makes me feel like there is something wrong with me, that I'm broken, too broken... I only know that I'm loved but why I cannot feel it... I only remember a few moments when I have been able to feel such a thing, or at least one, but it was me feeling like how Molluck loves me...

Man, why must my mind be like this... Well, I keep watching the show of my life... At least I have found some happiness when I found Molluck since he is the character I have been looking for all these years, he is the one that feels like the right one. Though, yes, it does also depress me that he is just fictional but well, technology can help me! Gotta just get rich so that I can only just be and live in my virtual world... Yeah, that's the only way to 'live' with him... Man, I don't know what I'm doing with my life, so I'm just wasting it on Molluck... I just don't really feel like doing anything with my life, so yeah, Molluck is fine.

Yeah, this Gluk just means so much to me... I have already heard so many times that I'm odd, so gotta just embrace the odd!

[scribblespirit]

Happy Valentine's Day!! 💝 (+ long personal ramble lmao)

Well I did intend on posting earlier than this, but I wanted to wish a big happy Valentine's to everyone who actually follows along with the random crap that I post on this site-- and an especially big hug to all of my fellow aspec, arospec, and aroace lovelies!! I've always valued the celebration of all forms of love on February 14th, whatever dumbass society that we live in who decided that it's strictly a holiday for romantic couples can show themselves out the mfing door. Romantic love, platonic love, familial love, s*xual love, queerplatonic love, polyamorous love, animal love, ALL types of feeling & showing love are so wonderful and deserve to be celebrated!! If you feel sad about being single on Valentine's Day, don't let our stupid economy blind you to how loved you are in many different ways by many different people!! 🫶

On that note, this year marks a very meaningful occasion for me personally. I'm currently 21 years old, I learned I was asexual when I was 16 and didn't understand that I was arospec too until I was 20. I've always been totally content either celebrating Valentine's Day with my close friends, or basically ignoring the day all together. But as of last summer, I am now in my first Queerplatonic relationship with my incredible partner @rubinaitoart (and our beloved @lovelucigoosey, who is always with us 🎗️🩵) and I thought that today would be a fitting day to finally proclaim my cheesiness online lol! Rubin, I love you so so much and I'm seriously so lucky to have you. Thank you for being my very first Valentine's Day partner, for making me feel so loved I nearly happy-cry every time, and for just always being your supportive, talented, caring, funny, amazing and beautiful self!! 💜💜💜 /p

My patience to see your smile and give you the biggest hug face-to-face is dwindling with every day, but also knowing that we will get there someday is one of my favourite things to think about :'D To my online besties, Checkmate or otherwise, thank you for being the best long-distance found family I could ever ask for!! Every one of you guys means the world to me, I'm so grateful that you all put your care and energy toward a little chatty bundle of emotions like me. My bucket list purely consists of a list of each of you guys, and I will not quit until I get to properly see and hug all of you or else your name is not getting checked off of the bucket list!! But yeah fr thank you guys I fuckin' love my friends I don't know how I got so lucky 🥹💕

To my kittens (not that I expect they'll be reading this), thank you for being such little fluffballs of joy and chaos. Thank you for coming upstairs and insisting to check on me when I have been face-deep in homework for 6 hours, and for dragging me away for cuddles whenever I need it. To my parents (who definitely won't be reading this XD), thanks for being some badass and wonderful parents.

To Luci, I mean I check in pretty often so you probably already know what I'm gonna say. I hope you're happy, I hope you're smiling, I hope you're running and I hope you're free of pain. Love you always boo 🩵

I just have so much love in my heart that I wish I could share as much as possible. I love my family and my kittens and my friends from university who help keep me somewhat sane. I love my Discord friends/found family who help keep me very sane, and are always there to make me laugh and to celebrate achievements together. I love my queerplatonic boyfriend/partner, I love his voice and his hair, I love his obsession passion for The Arcana, I love his fluffy puppy Aster, I love how he makes me smile and that I'm capable doing the same.

Thanks guys. I really really love you all ❤️

...

(Also I haven't slept in like 38 hours and I'm struggling to stay awake as I write this so I hope it is at all legible, it's probably too long but quite frankly if you read the entire thing and made it all the way down here then massive kudos to you. I did warn that I was chatty and emotional, those two traits never go well together 😂)

[llyncooljones]

behind the scenes - twelve days of rowaelin '22

ao3 || masterlist || twelve days of rowaelin ‘22 masterlist

prompt: accidental mistletoe.

word count: 1357

trigger warnings: language, sexual themes

tag list: @live-the-fangirl-life @rowaelinismyotp @fireheartwhitethorn4ever @elentiyawhitethorn @rowanaelinn @autumnbabylon @leiawritesstories @backtobl4ck @letstakethedawn @rowaelinscourt

their wedding, the speeches.

“As I believe many of you know, it’s traditional for the maid of honour to give a speech, for the best man to give a speech, and for the father of the bride to give a speech. Unfortunately, I am not giving any of my friends the chance to tell you about my wild younger years, nor am I giving my husband’s best friends the chance to ruin a two-hour-long marriage. And finally, my father is dead, so no speech from him. Quite frankly, as I stand before you many of you will be shocked to find that the bride giving a speech, nor the groom.

“The thing is, my husband can be a shy man—which you wouldn’t guess given the places we’ve had sex and the number of times we’ve been discovered. These statistics would give the impression that we are shameless perverts—which is correct. Thankfully, my parents are dead, so they didn’t have to hear me say that. My husband, the shameless pervert he is, would hate to have to stand up in front of you, and tell you the story which kick-started arguably the best love story of this century.

“Lucky for all of you, I am shameless beyond sex, so you will hear the origin story of The Newly Wedded Whitethorn-Galathynius’. In fact, you shall the origin story which the Whitethorn half of The Whitethorn-Galathynius’ hasn’t heard. Babe, this one’s for you.”

where it all began

senior year of high school, the winter formal.

Aelin’s dress was by far the best dress on the dance floor. A mixture of Christmas songs, slow dances, and pop was playing over the ancient sound system in the school’s gymnasium. Snowflakes and angels were projected onto the wall, whilst cheap baubles hung from the ceiling. Tinsel adorned the few high tables in the corners, whilst Christmas trees stood on either side of the snack table.

It was the perfect setting, the perfect atmosphere for the beginning of a romance.

Aelin had made sure of it. She’d spent all her afternoons since being elected on the dance committee absorbed in her Pinterest account, saving ideas and aesthetics, scrolling through so Instagram pages her fingers hurt, googling so many colours palettes and decorations suppliers her internet connection lagged.

This was all to say, that she was in control. She hadn’t come off as a control freak, and as cruel, ignorant, and rude to many of her peers for nothing. She had done it all for them. She’d had help, of course.

She couldn’t orchestrate the entire foundation for a relationship just by herself.

All summer she had taken dance lessons from the community centre, afterwards consulting with Lysandra to translate dance to cheer. She’d spent much of summer hanging out with Lysandra and Elide practising her dance and cheer moves, often on the outskirts of the field, the soon-to-be-senior boys played their pick-up football matches.

This time was also used to eavesdrop and find out where his interests were, what he was curious about, and what he liked in a girl. The last one was the most difficult because no matter how hard his—shockingly gossipy—friends tried to get him to talk about the hottest girls in school, he refused. Said he wasn’t going to be so blatantly sexist—Aelin had wobbled in her cartwheel when he’d said that, promptly spraining her ankle.

Aelin’s ankle had still been strapped up with tape and bandages, unable to try out for cheer during the week before school began, but she had watched Lysandra’s tryouts. Which had turned into watching the football tryouts, on the opposite side of the field.

He had waved at her as he walked off, and her heart stopped and kickstarted each time. She realised she was just a teenage girl with a crush, but what did that matter? Wasn’t being a teenager all about having stupid, unattainable crushes, on people you like superficially?

She was merely doing what teenagers did. That’s how she reasoned with herself at least, she was kept up at night by her own thoughts, calling her creepy. But she ignored them when she fell asleep, into dreams of a future with Rowan.

For the rest of the semester, Rowan had waved when he saw her, and she would wave back—ducking her head, or swiftly turning around so he wouldn’t see the blush that raced up her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose.

But now, she was drinking spiked punch out of a tiny, plastic cup and waiting for the moment. The perfect moment. The moment she had planned, the moment she had thought out so carefully, there was no way it could go wrong.

Her favourite song would begin playing—the song she’d been raving about in chemistry, in chemistry where Rowan sits just in front of her, hoping she would get to dance to it, with someone. She’d been planting the idea for so, infiltrating his mind like no one would believe, that if it did go wrong she was liable to explode and cover everyone with over-worked, non-sensical brain matter. But her heart would remain intact.

Trying to locate Rowan, she wandered around the school gymnasium and marvelled at how well the dance committee had handled her dream, her image, her moment. She was worried, that they wouldn’t take her blackmail seriously—but clearly, they had, and they had delivered on the aspect.

She could jump, she was so happy.

She stopped on the fringes of the dance floor and spotted Rowan weaving his way through dancing couples, and the few solo dancers who jumped around during a slow dance. He caught her eye, waving as he always did before his eyes flicked up—above her head. He smiled and dodged further couples, heading for her.

“Aelin, hi.” He was breathless, and his eyes sparkled. She was endeared by it, she didn’t usually consider that teenage boys had sparkling eyes. Clearly, she needed to spend more time considering because she was so absorbed in them that she didn’t realise he’s said something else.

She just nodded, unable to think up the right excuse.

He leant in, hands slipping to cradle her neck and chin, a thumb caressing her cheek. She could barely take in all the points of contact, couldn’t even make sense of it all. Not before his lips hit her own, and the world seemed to go silent, only the beating of her heart audible. And maybe the calmer thrumming of his.

He pulled back, his face serene and pleased, dropping as he stares at her longer, and longer. Never taking his eyes off hers. Aelin can feel the blank expression on her face, shock disallowing the muscles in her cheeks to work. She was unfrozen, and the brightest grin overtook, warming the world with its shine.

“What did you do that for?” she questioned and didn’t pinch herself even if she felt the need to—this couldn’t be a dream.

“The mistletoe, right above you. I told you—you nodded. I thought you were stood under it on purpose, to make sure we kissed.”

“Yeah, I stood here on purpose, mistletoe is always handy.”

No, I stood here not realising there was mistletoe above my head, we were supposed to slow dance and murmur quiet conversations, until the song ended, and I beckoned you down for a kiss. I was supposed to take the credit. Now the fucking mistletoe can.

the wedding, the speeches

“And to conclude, I can in fact say it was all me—even if he took the time to kiss me, and spot the mistletoe, which I stood under accidentally. Because if I hadn’t been obsessed and learning cheer to be a cheerleader to his football player, I would not have been on the field in time to sprain my ankle at the sight of him. Which lead to the wave, which ultimately lead to our kiss, and this wedding.”

The crowd cheered, and clapped, and Rowan could only stare at his wife, and could only love all the creepy, obsessed parts of her.

[zingaplanet]

Tagged by: @kuhcra 🙌❤️

Sign: I'm an aquarius, i never really get these things, come on astrology mutuals tell me smth about myselffff, am i gonna die and become a cat? Am i destined to save the world from a catastrophic alien invasion?

Height: I'm 172cm ish!

Last thing I googled:

Believe it or not, the Reading fest ticket, I'm contemplating whether 100 quid is worth it to get smashed to a pumpkin amidst crowds of thousands to watch the Killers play

Number of followers: hmm i dunno around 400ish? Doesn't matter tho, I love. Every. Single. One. Of. My. Mutuals. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ i also love that all of you come from different fandoms and come here to be chaotic with me or be introduced to some completely random ships lol. My page is a fandom networking platform n i won't have it any other way!

Amount of sleep: oof I'm an old man. I need my 8 hours beauty sleep. Sometimes 9 hours on weekends lol

Lucky #: I've absolutely no idea what this means, tumblr lingo expert help?

Wearing: A knitted sweater, cozy pajama pants and CHRISTMAS SOCKS! I luv my festive socks 🧦🧦🧦

Dream job: Oooohhhhh this is so difficult. Ok there are 2 things to this (leave it to me to overcomplicate stuffs lol)

Within the unachievable realm I've always wanted to be a musician (Hency my profile background!). I kinda almost did, I taught piano for quite some time, and was in a band for a long time. Hey you never know, might get called to headline glastonbury anytime, hang out with Alex Turner backstage and never have to work a day in my life anymore 😉

Frankly I just dream of playing a rock concert with my band at the royal albert hall and crowdsurfing the dead-est, posh-est crowd ever just cause i thought it'd be hilarious to see their faces 🥲 lol

In the slightly more achievable realm within my field right now, my dream job is to work in the UN peacekeeping or other international conflict orgs to help broker peace deals and help resolve some of the conflict stalemates around the world. I've worked with humanitarian charities before but I get really frustrated seeing so many efforts gone to waste cause the bureaucrats on top just couldn't be bothered to sacrifice their political interests for longlasting peacekeeping efforts. Sorry this is such a geeky answer! It's just that I've seen so many unnecessary sufferings and I just really really want to be in a position where I can at least make my mark to do smth good to change the world for better before I die!

Movies/books that summarise me: prob Orwell's 1984 lol, i'll leave it to you to interpret why

Favourite song: Oh this is so difficult! My current fav is by the Belgian artist Stromae, the one he made as a tribute to Cesária Évora, one of the greatest living singers of all time!

My current fav album and something that you DEF DEF DEF should listen to is the new album by the Canadian indie band Peach Pit called From 2 to 3. It has that old school road trip feel good vibes with your friends during a cross-country, it calms the soul and soothes the mind just uuggghh absolute masterpiece! (My fav track is give up baby go!)

Fav instrument: My bass! Especially my fender jazzmaster bass Rory ❤️ it's been my date for 23 years

Aesthetic: Have you seen the riverside of Thames in autumn?

Fav author: I don't read a lot of non-fictions anymore sadly, but I love poetries and literature. Jeanette Winterson is one of the only I feel that can really capture the essence of our souls and unearth emotions as raw as our hearts. Here's her masterpiece from Lighthousekeeping:

Fav animal noise: 🐬🐬🐬🐬🐬

Random: my dear mutuals, I am working on 2 deadass long angsty carraville and fedal fics that might never get finished but I'm committed to see them to the end even if it takes years!

On another note, if somehow our interests overlap again, the last fic I did was on pepmou. It's so sappy, I don't even know how I got through it! But if you're feeling a bit in need of enemies to lovers... ⬇️⬇️

Enjoy the tag my lovelies: @surreality51 @aramblingjay @tam-is-blogging @aliceinqueensland

[a-tale-of-legends]

Instead of going through with the plot, I'm gonna shit post given now Ames' current team is fully evolved!!! Well not full shit post, I wanna talk about the gang's relationship at this point in the game.

Tiny: Finally! It's about time you two evolved! And I was worried that those forms were your final!

Zeke: Trust me Tiny, if I could have evolved sooner I would have.....but thank you. It feels good to finally reach my final form! It truly feels..... electrifying.

Tiny: I hate you and everything that you stand for.

Zeke: H-Huh?!

~~~

Daisy: Congratulations on the evo, Arty!

Arty: O-oh, thank you Daisy...

Daisy: Of course! But, um....you don't look excited. Something wrong?

Arty: Oh, no no, I'm very happy to finally evolve but uh.....I was hoping my new evolution would give me a boosted height....

Daisy: ( 8'02)

Arty: ( 5'03) .........Turns out I'm not even close.....

Daisy: ?

.

.

.

Oh! W-well, you can fly to greater heights now, remember? Y-you can reach heights that I never could! And you can still ride on my back if you want!!

Arty: ( sighs, but smiling a little) Thanks for trying to cheer me up Daisy....

( note: as for their gijinka selfs, not sure about their heights right now. I do know that Daisy is gonna be the tallest tho )

~~~

Okay onto some relationship updates.

I don't remember exactly when, but I do know that Daisy evolved during an important story battle! I believe it was the aether foundation ultra beast fight! I think that moment was when Tiny, who wondered why she was part of the team, realized " oh. She's in it for the long haul huh?". He kinda already got that impression given how she started to train and battle more after, quite frankly, insulting her to her face, but evolving to protect others....that's something else. That shows commitment. And that shows that Tiny was very very wrong. I don't think Tiny is the type to prolong an apology when needed, but I do think Daisy is too stubborn to hear him out. She's still upset with him, upset that he didn't see her as an equal, and partially upset with herself. The tension between them was still there after Daisy evolved and it was only until Arty pretty told them " hey, talk it out" was when they. Ya know. Talk it out. And Tiny being Tiny, he is very blunt. As in he gets straight to the point: apologizing for not seeing her value, both as a team member and as a friend. Daisy ends up letting loose some of pent up anger at him( verbally I mean, but maybe they battle it out too?). But after words, with everything said and done, things are....better. Daisy needs some time to fully trust Tiny again ( again, he did kinda shatter her self confidence), but she willing to give their friendship another go!

Keahi also evolved in between Daisy and Arty/Zeke. Not much fanfair in terms of like. Plot stuff, but hey! She reached her goal of being a Salazzle and is more than ready to crush those in her path~.

I know I just made something about Arty evolving, but I just had an idea: Arty feels like he's not living up to being a leader for his team, feeling like Zeke does a 10x better job. He doesn't resent Zeke, not at all, he simply feels inadequate, and thus feeling he doesn't deserve to evolve when his time comes. He wants to evolve when he feels like he's finally a worthy leader to his team. Of course, this is an idea that i'm not sure I'll go with, just putting it out there.

Also

Zeke and Arty before evolving: Wow, I'm so lucky to have an awesome, talented, and honestly handsome ( no homo) friend!

Zeke and Arty after evolving: Uh oh.

If Arty prolongs his evolution, then poor bastard is having a fucking Time. So is Zeke, but he's more chill about it. Keahi is giving him pointers on how to flirt!

Okay that's it lol.

[live-laugh-love-the-archivists]

✨ Love your work. ✨

Can you do headcanon(s) if the Archivists and Collector have parents? What are they like, do they have a favourite child, their titles, etc.

Hopefully, I understood what you meant correctly.

The collector will be using he/him in this to avoid any confusion when I refer to the archivists, who will be using they/them because I believe (in my headcanons) that there species have no gender in general but some prefer to use pronous to best describe what they look like or feel like, and some just use the title they were given if they were lucky enough to be given one

I tend to think that the collectors' species are created from interstellar events, then actual intercourse or asexual reproduction

So, quite frankly, I do not believe that the archivists and the collector would have any actual relatives, including eachother, but there is a possibility that they were raised by a separate group of there species, or a singular one older then them at the time, in which teaching them the basic knowledge they should obtain before going off on there own

In my headcanon, I believe that when a new organism is created, it's basically adoption in some way. Some of the species will choose to ignore the younger and newer and some thrive to take in and teach the young the ways of there species

Think of it as pods or groups. There is one group in a sertent area, then another nebouring in another separate area. Some areas are sometimes so big that the groups might not even notice eachothers presences, and even if the groups did, I believe that their species isn't all that territorial

But I do believe that many of their species is outcasted or sent away if there a bad apple

This brings me to believe that the archivists were taken in by a separate eldest of their species in the cosmos or created when it comes to the collector and the observer.

In a group, in my headcanon, the eldest of them would generally call the shots since they have the most experience and are usually the wisest of the groups, much like a "parent" of some sort. Then there are the "siblings," in which for their group were the archivists and the collector

The eldest would have to care about them enough to take them in, which was not common but isn't rare as well for the elders of the species to do, being alone in the cosmos for so long is lonely even for there long life span and adaptability to it

Generally, the eldest of a group would take care of the "siblings" for a surtent amount of time before the siblings would either split up and go separate ways from the eldest, stick together and go separate ways or rarly stick with the eldest

The "siblings" who separate from each other and the eldest to leave to create their own groups in the cosmos then repeat the process, now becoming the eldest of their group, and for the "siblings" that stick together and depart from the eldest to make there own group, then also repeat the process, but in this case which ever is the older of the bunch of "siblings" would become the eldest of the group

Because of the observer and the operators' bad behavior, the two were written off as bad sprouts and sent away. The journalist was generally sweet with the collector while the eldest was more distant but still was around. The journalist and asrar went with the other two "siblings" because they didn't want to separate. The collector had a hard time choosing who to go with once he was given the choice, in which because of the journalists caring for him more openly, he had chosen the archivists over the eldest. The eldest, of course, wasn't pleased and did try to keep the collector but ultimately let him go. Big mistake

The eldest DID favor the collector over the other. It was refreshing to have such a lively and playful child around that did not want to harm anyone, unlike the observer and the operator (and sometimes asrar) . The second favorite would have to be the journalist, they were the sympathetic and a caring one of the group who was only following orders from ......

After leaving the eldest, things were good for a while until the archivists became too strong, strong enough to be given names. since the species don't have names (though in their groups they could be given nicknames), it was a sign of power. But the power got to the observer and operators heads quick, to quick

The collector was given his name by default since he was part of the archivists group, but the archivists were the ones who earned the title, that two of them now use for worse

Titles are only given to specific groups of overpowers individuals, in this case, being given a title is extremely rare, especially for the younger of the species

Before they departed from the eldest, the eldest did have a title because of their power and just how much experience they had over most of their species

The eldest original name was infact the collector

And when our previous collector departed with his siblings from their eldest, he had become a home sick but did not want to part away fron the journalist and asrar. in memory of the eldest, he took there name as his own as reminder for what all the eldest had done for him

Reminder this is my headcanon that is unfinished

Post banners by:saradika, Cafekitsune and rpinking

Request are open

REDOING THIS SOON TO FIT CURRENT HEADCANONS