#and i might try to find some flowery earrings when i go to the store for some other stuff tomorrow

[seekingthestars]

she's beauty she's grace she's Miss Eevee Cosplay 3.0

[call-me-double-trouble]

Makeover, Makeover, Makeover, Makeover...

The sound of Glimmer’s teleporting rang like an alarm clock as she rapidly flitted through Bright Moon in search of the one person who could help her.

“Double Trouble!” she called. No answer. She teleported into the next room. “Double Trouble?” She clenched her fists in frustration and tried a new room. “Double Trouble, it’s urgent! Answer me!” She’d already checked their room, the kitchen, the hallways, Catra’s room, the--wait a minute.

She’d seen Catra in her room...but Catra was away at Plumeria, helping Scorpia set up for Perfuma’s birthday party. Glimmer growled and teleported back into Catra’s room, glaring at the transformed DT.

“Very funny, Dee. Thanks for wasting my time.”

“Any day, love,” they said, changing back into their usual reptilian form. “Now, what is it I can do for you?”

“I have a job only you can do.” She gripped their shoulders, looking them dead in the eye. “Adora is in desperate need of a makeover! Her dress for the party is terrible, and we have to be there in an hour!”

“Is...that all?” They were hoping for some espionage. Then again, they’d secretly yearned for such an opportunity, to tackle the boring and drab Adora and turn her into a She-Ra-level princess. They were tempted to help for free.

No, Double Trouble, always charge for your services, no matter how small. “Well, seeing as that particular job is as delicate as it is difficult, I’ll have to charge you double.”

Glimmer teleported them into Adora’s room, and the sight before them made them stare in silence for awhile.

“...Okay, I can now see the severity of the situation. The only payment I need is not having to look at...all that...ever again. Is that even a dress?” They approached cautiously, as if the fabric would lurch out and attack them. “I can’t even tell what the cut was trying to achieve. Not to mention it’s far too big for you. And this color... Is it gray? Is it green? Is it brown? I’m sorry, since when is murky swampwater the new black? ” They gagged to emphasize their point. “Where did you even find this? What happened to the red dress you wore to Princess Prom?”

“I accidentally spilled stuff on it, and I didn’t have time to clean it, and I found this one in storage in the back of a closet.”

“Adora, that dress is so hideous even the moths wouldn’t eat it. Take it off and put it in the corner. I don’t want it to touch my skin--just looking at it might give me hives.”

“But then I’ll only be in my underwear!”

“I don’t care. Get that thing off before you get a rash.”

“Adora,” Glimmer said, “I will personally teleport to the nearest store and buy you a new dress.”

“But how will I know if it fits? And what if it doesn’t look good, either--”

Double Trouble clapped once to bring the attention back to them. “Darling, darling, darling. You forget you have a shapeshifter at your disposal.” They shifted into Adora in a sleek black dress. “I can find something that suits you in half the time it’ll take to look around a dress shop. Let’s see...you favor high necklines, right? That’s all I see you in.”

“I don’t want to wear black. We’re going to Plumeria. It’s flowery and colorful and sunny. I’ll stand out and overheat.”

“And it’s too formal,” Glimmer added. “The party is...lightly formal?”

DT tapped their chin thoughtfully. “...How do you feel about pastels?” Their body became black and peppered with glowing green dots as they changed again, this time putting Adora in their own Princess Prom outfit, minus the coat.

Glimmer liked it, but Adora wasn’t convinced.

“Maybe something less...”--Adora prodded at the choker and earrings--”embellished.” She glanced at the high heels. “And easier to walk in.”

DT rolled their eyes and muttered, “Of course she doesn’t like jewelry or heels, why would she make this easy?” They thought for moment more. “Let’s see if I have anything more plain, since that’s apparently what you’re into.”

“Wait, if you have anything?” Glimmer tilted her head. “Have you been showing us options from your own closet?”

“Of course! I have impeccable taste, and it’s faster to let her borrow something. We’re similar sizes, even though I’m a head taller. If we just bring the skirt up a little, no one will notice.”

“And how will we--”

“We’ll pin it and hide the evidence with a belt, of course. Now let’s see...I do own a red dress, if red is your preferred color, Adora. May be a bit much for the occasion, but I promise I’ll overdress as well, so at least you won’t be alone in being the best-looking person there.”

Glimmer snorted, but Adora looked hopeful.

Double Trouble shifted again, this time putting Adora in a red satin piece with an open back, floor-length skirt, and lower neckline. “I know it’s maybe a bit out of your comfort zone, but it’s great for warm weather. I’m sure you still have the gold sandals you wore to Princess Prom, so pair those with it. We’ll find you a golden belt to match.”

Glimmer’s eyes gleamed. “I love it! Adora, you have to wear that, it looks amazing!”

Adora blushed at the prospect of showing so much skin, but it did look nice.

“We can adjust the straps a bit, too, to bring the neck up a little,” they offered. “The only other red dress I have is tighter and far more glitzy, so this will have to do. In any case, it beats wearing pond scum.”

“Okay, we’ll make it work. Thanks for helping out, DT.”

They grinned. “I know, darlings, what would you do without me?”

[imerdwarf]

You're Worth Saving

Requested by anonymous: Hello you wonderful person! I dare to send in another Buck request, because COME ON HE'S SO LOVELY! ok ok, so maybe where you're also an avenger but you are really silent and distant to everyone (not shy, but alone with your mind), so it happens that buck wants to pull you out of this hole cause he knows how you feel and in the end he succeeds and the teams sees you smile for like the first time since you joined them and they're happy? Gosh i hope this is not weird.

Pairing: Bucky X Avenger!Reader

Warnings: soft!Bucky, introvertism, happy ending 💜

Author's Notes: Hello YOU wonderful sweet anon! How are you doing today? I hope you're doing great. Thank you so much for sending me this wonderful request, I really hope you like it and please feel free to send in more requests at anytime! 💜 Please let me know if you like or hate this, I'll be happy to rewrite it 💜🥺

Divider was made by me 🥰

Your mind was such a beautiful distraction. It's a place where unimaginable scenarios would be stored just for you to be able to stare at a blank wall and dwell heavily on them. Living 99% of the time in your head became a little dangerous but it was a much happier place than reality.

The team would often find you in this daze like state where you'd just stare at the wall ahead without blinking sometimes. They would try to coax you out of it by asking a question, a question you would ignore because you didn't hear them. Their voices were silenced, a contrast to how loud they were in your head.

Nobody really knew why you were like this. It's been this way since you arrived at the compound months ago. You kept to yourself, ate by yourself, worked out when everyone else was either watching movies or asleep, and you would just keep silent. Even on missions, you never spoke a word.

The team were actually very worried about your well-being, as clearly this was not natural. For the first time since the civil war broke out, Steve and Tony were actually in agreement about bringing a psychiatrist in to help you until Bucky intervened and wanted to help you himself first.

Bucky would have considered himself a professional by now. He knows what it's like not to fit in anywhere, how easy it was to feel so out of place. He understood more than any psychiatrist what a better and safer world it was inside your mind.

"Buck you can't help them. Y/N is too far gone." Steve spoke regrettably, sadness evident in his tone. He believed they failed you from the beginning and it was easy for Steve to take the blame so nobody else would have to feel guilty.

Bucky shook his head before he ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the root before letting it drop down by his side again. "I have to try Steve. I've been there before, I know what they are going through. Trust me."

Steve sighed, knowing he wouldn't have won the fight. Bucky was determined and it was impossible to change his mind about anything.

"I do Buck. Just bring them back to us, please."

With Steve's permission granted, Bucky wasted no time in getting to work. He started off being as subtle as possible by sitting as close as he could to you on the couch. The goosebumps that pebbled your skin when his knee brushed your leg gave him a lot of hope, that you were in there somewhere.

Bucky was hopeful he was getting somewhere with you. Because each time he took a seat next to you, you'd angle your body to face him and wait for him to start talking about his favourite movies, his favourite songs, his new profound hobbies he's been getting into lately. Your eyes would glisten with hope that you were actually listening to him. And you were, you paid great attention and everything he told you, about the Hobbit struck a chord in your heart. You had felt so lost for so long that even you were worried you might not be here anymore.

Then a few days later, he started to talk to you like a normal person. He would talk about his favourite books and why he liked them so much. He loved The Hobbit series because of the adventure Bilbo goes on and how easy it was for the words to suck you into the story. How easy it was to forget how to cope with real life.

"Bilbo goes on an adventure of a lifetime and sometimes as the road gets tough, he regrets it but he knows there is something worth waiting for at the end of it, he knows there is something worth saving. He meets new friends and they stick with him the whole time." The emotion in Bucky's voice rang home for you. "There's always something to live for. Bilbo never gave up and neither should you because I'm with you till the end of the line."

You knew he was saying 'if Bilbo Baggins could do this, so could you.'

Days turned into weeks and instead of just talking, Bucky escalated his plans by doing stuff with you. He started off gently by taking you for a walk around the rose garden Tony had at the back of the compound. Bucky noted how your eyes changed, you looked at the gorgeous fruit trees and rose bushes in such awe. The flowery scent tingled your nose.

Then he would go further by taking you a few blocks away to buy you a coffee. And when New York was hit with a heatwave, he took you to the beach where he heard you giggle for the very time because of the flamingo floaties he had around his arms.

The team saw a huge improvement. They saw how you clinged to Bucky and watched him intently as he made a couple of sandwiches and some tea for the two of you to watch with a Disney movie.

And it was just under a month when he heard you speak for the very first time.

"Thank you." Even though it came out in a hushed whisper, he would take it over the deafening silence anyday.

"For what doll?" Of course he already knew, but he wanted to hear more from you. He wanted to hear your voice.

"For helping me."

Bucky nodded slowly, a smile gradually grew on his lips and he pushed just a little bit further.

That evening, you almost talked his ear off. You opened up about your feelings, what kind of envisions lived in your head and how much happier they were than real life. Bucky shared some of his too, comparing the two it was apparent he knew exactly how you were feeling and he understood just how scary it really is. For you, it felt like this huge boulder had been lifted off your chest. A chance to finally let everything out and breathe again.

"How did I help?"

"You made me realise that there is something worth sticking around for, something worth coming back to." You told him with tears in your eyes.

His hands rubbed your back soothingly, "You know doll, sometimes in life, we hit a crossroads. We don't know where we are going or what's on the other side of the road. And if you pick a path, you're going on new adventures everyday and I am right here with you." Tears shamelessly rolled down your cheeks from his words. You've never felt so safe in the whole time you've been here.

The morning after, the team were seated around the dining table eating breakfast and talking about an upcoming mission when you strolled through the doors with a grin on your face and Bucky right behind you, just like he had been throughout this ordeal.

"Holy shit. He did it!" Tony slapped a hand over his mouth, overjoyed with so much emotion. Steve nodded to his friend, proud of him that he stuck with it when it couldn't have been easy.

"Oh my god, you actually have teeth!" Sam joked which earned laughs from both you and the team.

"I do!" You giggled, your eyes squeezed shut as you laughed. It felt good to laugh. "I um, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the distance and the silence and-"

"Listen, don't you worry!" Tony told you as he walked towards you to throw an arm over your shoulder. "We are just glad to have you here and it's a new day, we can start afresh!" Tony walked you towards an empty chair at the table and made Sam move seats so Bucky could sit down next to you. He squeezed your thigh in reassurance that he was here for you and he wouldn't be going anywhere.

[ddarker-dreams]

Pandora’s Box. Yan Chrollo x Reader

Warnings: Medicine mention, descriptions of anxiety, and implied minor character death. Word count: 2.7k.

A simple plan is the best kind to have. 

The less variables at play, the higher your rates of success are. You’ve anticipated some margin of error, a safety net of sorts, to be used if necessary. Everything within your realm of influence has been taken into account. Your friend in a car meeting you at a dead spot, a train ticket purchased with a prepaid visa card on a VPN, and a few precious pieces of jewelry to be pawned off at a later time. Scraping these assets together is a commendable feat, having to skulk around to make it this far.

Nothing feels out of the ordinary, you think. Your preparations are almost complete. All that’s left is to wait to ensure the beast in hiding cannot come for you.

Prayer doesn’t traditionally feel worth the effort -- any god that’d allow you to be subjugated to a hell such as this is no god worth pleading to -- but tonight is different. Tonight you pray to any deity that may spare you some pity, that this plan may succeed without a hitch. The time signals the beginning of the next phase, the most vital aspect. 

Tonight’s soup had an additional ingredient, a generous helping of sleep inducing pills. To avoid suspicion, you partook in the meal as usual, hoping to cancel out the effects later by ingesting a gratuitous amount of energy drinks. It served the original purpose of fending off fatigue, but not without presenting a unique set of problems of its own. The caffeine has served to heighten your anxiety, upping what was already a nerve-wracking experience to a new level. 

Your guts feeling like they’re rearranging themselves, your body not capable of forgoing fidgeting a single moment. No longer can you tell if it’s nausea, stomach pain, or hyperventilation. Maybe it’s everything at once. All you know is that you’ve never had your body working against you more than now. Every nerve is frayed, your senses on high alert to any shadow or noise.

Deep breaths no longer bring you reprieve. Each raggedy breath you manage to squeeze out is an accomplishment, overshadowed by the fear that he might hear you. How irrational a thought, that Chrollo would be capable of picking up on the differences in your breathing from afar. It doesn’t matter how illogical the worry may be. With Chrollo, you’ve learned that nothing is impossible. To expect the unexpected has been the mantra of your mind these past few months. 

Just a bit longer... I need to know he’s asleep for sure. Or else it’s over.

Your foot taps against the ground in a frantic rhythm, ears ringing like funeral tolls. The last time you dared peak into your shared room with Chrollo, he was supposedly fast asleep, out like a light. What should’ve been a cause for victory brought nothing but a fresh wave of dread. A guessing game ensues. Trying to decipher his body language from earlier for hints only serves to make you feel worse. You’ve been so cautious, walking on sheets of thin ice at every move. Chrollo hadn’t acted out of the ordinary to your knowledge. Not that he has a way of acting ‘ordinary’ anyways, your limited understanding of his person having to suffice. 

Should everything be going according to your design, your friend will be in position to pick you up. There’s no more stalling, the point of return ahead of you.

It’s time.

You do a final check over your mental checklist. Your backpack is stocked with the necessities: toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a filtered hydro flask, non perishable foods and your train ticket. To any onlooker it might look like you’re going hiking. Sporting worn sneakers, loose-fitting clothes, and having your hair pulled away from your face. This is really it. The culmination of sneaking around behind Chrollo’s back for months, unfolding before your very eyes. Everything is falling into place as it’s meant to.

You walk to the door. 

Each step you take is quiet as can be. Every shuffle of clothes, or the slightest of creaks from the floorboards, causes you to wince and pause. This penthouse has served as your personal circle of hell for months on end, the walls absorbing your cries and screams. You despise this place with every fiber of your being. The antique décor, the ancient texts that lay strewn about, the scent of sandalwood that you find nauseating. 

Ghosts of the past return to haunt you as you walk through different areas. Swirling around your head, they threaten to consume you, chipping away at your resolve. His hypnotic voice resonates in your mind like whispers of the serpent in the garden, tempting you. Weighing you down. Not even your own mind is a safe haven from his speech that disguises itself as flowery, when the reality is far more sinister. Chrollo’s words are constricting vines, lined with thorns, embedding themselves deeper into your flesh the harder you try to pry them out. 

“Don’t you remember how difficult your life was before me?” 

Another step.

“All those people who left you, who took advantage of you?” 

Your hands shake around your small, homemade EMP. It’s made from spare parts you managed to find around the penthouse, clumsily assembled through trial and error. The pulse it emits is next to nothing. Copper coils threaten to fall loose at any second when you raise it to the security system by the door. Holding your breath, you press down on the trigger. The device lets out rapid clicking sounds, the security monitor flickering before going blank. 

“I know you’ll come around.” 

Finally, come the excessive locks on the door. The compressed air you said you needed for cleaning is next up. The can is cool against your trembling fingers, white specs decorating the locks as you spray them over. With some persistence, they come undone, one after the other. Unshackling you from the depths. You open the door that’s mocked you relentlessly for months, withholding your prized freedom. 

“But even in the event that you don’t...” 

The surrounding world is a blur of colors. Your eyes don’t focus on any object for too long, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. It feels as if your stomach is in your throat when the elevator starts its descent. He had you up on the fiftieth floor? 

You fixate on the screen, numbers not flashing by fast enough for your liking.

40. 

20.

5. 

1.

“Well. There are always ways of overcoming inconveniences such as that.” 

It’s an extravagant lobby. Far more luxurious than you could ever have hoped to afford, this building being one of the most exclusive in Yorknew. The person at the front desk calls out and you ignore it. You must look mighty suspicious, not that you care. The priority now is escape. Running out the revolving door, crisp autumn air greets you. You’ve never felt more grateful for the bustling streets of the city. Even at night the city remains awake, making it easier to blend in. No one out here spares you a second glance as you weave in and out of fast paced crowds. 

23rd street. That’s where you’ll meet up with your friend, who will then transport you to the subway. Glancing up at the signposts, you realize you’ll be in for some walking. There’s no letting your guard down. Constantly looking over your shoulder, all you see are the faces of strangers. You’ve never felt so grateful to be a part of a crowd. 

Finally, after walking for what feels like an eternity, you spot your beacon of hope. A clothing store’s bright neon sign, which your friend sits parked in front of. Since these stores are closed this time of day, the crowd that once surrounded you have thinned out, yet you try not to fixate on the lack of cover. Jay walking across the street doesn’t prove to be an issue. The pollution from the city hides the stars behind a layer of smog, streetlamps your lone source of light.

Heart hammering in your chest, you tap on the window of her car with urgency. “Amelia, it’s me. [First].” 

You hear the doors unlock. 

Taking it as a sign she heard you, you waste no time swinging into the passenger seat of the car. Amelia immediately turns the keys, car humming to life. Your chest heaves with exhaustion from the draining events. This is it. The second to last step before you reclaim your freedom. It’s almost like a dream, the light at the end of a long tunnel. Amelia’s appearance is just as you recalled it. Hazel eyes, tan skin, long black hair, and an average build. Your heart leaps at the sight of her.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” your friend confesses in a hushed whisper. “[First], what... what happened? You completely fell off the face of the Earth for months. Then you contact me out of nowhere? What’s going on?” 

It isn’t easy meeting her eyes, so you don’t. “I... I don’t know if it’s safe to talk about it. The less you know, the better.”

She takes a moment to assess you before sighing. “Alright, I can tell this is serious. Just... I’m glad you’re alright.” 

Amelia begins driving without another word. Silence hangs in the air, offering a time to reflect. Your plan, Chrollo, what you’ll do next... it whirls around your head like a vortex. A gut feeling refuses to leave you alone whenever you picture his face. A dreadful thought that this entire escapade was too easy. Is it just your paranoia? It could very well be. Hugging your backpack closer to you for comfort, you’re startled by Amelia suddenly speaking up.

“The subway station, huh,” she reminiscences aloud, eyes flickering from the road to you. “So you’re leaving Yorknew?” 

There’s no way to continue dodging her questions. “... Yeah, I am.” 

“Where are you going?” 

It’s natural she’d have lots of questions. Had the situation been reversed, you’d have plenty of your own. For her wellbeing you don’t want to indulge more than necessary. Lying to someone who is helping you lives a sour taste in your mouth. It’s for her sake, you remind yourself. Having to involve Amelia in this at all was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“I’m going to Zaban City. I have some extended family there.” 

Amelia hums in confirmation to your story. “Your cousin, right?” 

“Right.” 

She stops pressing that particular subject, likely sensing your apprehension. You take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere and close your eyes. The sleeping pills from earlier are starting to grow more prominent. Losing consciousness is the last thing you need right now, but indulging in some much needed rest sounds too inviting. 

“There was something else I was wondering about.” Amelia starts, earning your attention. Looks like sleep will have to wait for later. You yawn, stretching your weary limbs, and wait for her to continue. She smiles, dark eyelashes fluttering shut in deep thought.

“Oh, sweet [First],” she whispers your name in the gentlest of tones, and looks over at you. “Why are you so selfish?” 

You blink, the words not settling in immediately. “What...?” 

She continues without missing a beat. “You used to be so envious of me. Always pretending to play nice, because you were too passive to say how you really felt. How you hated me.” 

“Amelia? What are you talking about? I... I never hated you, what--” 

“Even now you can’t bring yourself to admit the truth,” she sighs. “Not that I’m surprised. You’ve always cared way too much about what people think. Why would now be any different?” 

Her unexpected attack on your character has you shifting in your seat. Every word that leaves her lips is in her voice, yet feels so different than her normal character. Did something happen in the time Chrollo took you away? Anxiety rears its ugly head at the line of questioning. You take a sudden interest in your fingers, playing with them on your lap. 

“I don’t understand where any of this is coming from.” You admit, eyebrows furrowing together. The shift in atmosphere is tangible. What was once a warm reunion under stressful times has corrupted into a frosty confrontation. These insecurities of hers that laid dormant in your heart... why is she bringing this up now? In your most vulnerable hour? Nothing is making sense. These ugly feelings of yours were only ever confided in one person. 

“You knew it’d be a danger to my life to contact me. You knew that, and still you did it all the same. I wonder why that is. Could it be... that you wouldn’t care if I died? If I was tortured for aiding your escape?” 

Your heart drops. This knowledge... how can she know any of this? Amelia used the word escape, clear as day. Is that a coincidence? You look over at the car door, seeing it’s locked. Something’s not right here, you deduce. I don’t know what it is exactly, but something is very wrong...! 

She continues on. “I really do want to know what your justification for this is. Out of everyone you could’ve picked for help, you specifically chose me, knowing the danger it’d bring. Did you think I’d be spared in some sort of miracle?” 

The spare moonlight streaming in illuminates Amelia’s face, highlighting how pale her skin looks. Veins that would normally not have been so prominent have a blue tint, her lips a similar shade. Your eyes drop to the unnaturally large scarf that surrounds her neck. It’s not that cold out yet, why is she wearing something so cumbersome? Reaching out with unsteady hands, you pull the fabric back. Your gut feels like it’s been punched at the sight, eyes widening in horror. 

On the back of her neck is an antenna, with bat wings on the end. 

Shit! Shit, shit, shit-- 

In a frenzy, you stretch forward, searching for the button to unlock the car door. The second you find it, it’s pressed, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. You hear her speaking up again. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst from your chest as you jump out the car, grateful it isn’t going too fast. Skin meeting asphalt, you hiss at the pain, rolling onto your side. None of that matters now. How did he do it? He has to be nearby, maybe you can still make it to the station in time. Your head hurts from the impact, legs wobbling like jelly. 

It’s difficult to focus. You grit your teeth, utilizing the remnants of your strength to get to your knees. Why did the caffeine have to wear off so soon...? It was going so well. You finally had your chance, your time to take back your life. To go back to how things were. Struggling to get to your feet, you throw your backpack off, praying the lost weight will help you get up. 

“You never answered my questions,” calls a deeper voice. You gulp back acidic bile as a hand is extended in front of you. “I was hoping you would.” 

Your head hangs down. It’s over. For a transgression such as this, you imagine you’re in for quite the punishment. How funny a thing fate is. Similar to streams of rushing water, there are many twists and turns, leading you down paths you never wanted to go. Fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh of your palms, the pain anchoring your wandering mind to reality. All other parts of your body have lost feeling. Numbness is what you’ve come to know. 

The devil incarnate bends over, taking your tearstained face into his fingers, and lifting it to meet his eyes. An abyss of grey stares back at you, devoid of humanity. Taking pleasure in besting you yet again. Disappointment is mixed within an interest to see what you’ll do next. There’s no smile on his face as you’ve come to expect. You see an empty shell of a man glowering down at you, from a place just out of reach. 

“I can’t say I’m too pleased about this, [First]. We’ll need to have a long discussion, don’t you think?” 

[drag-on-age]

A Letter from Varric

I wrote this because of dialogue that happened while I was traveling with Cassandra and Varric and it made me cry instantly.

“About Hawke…”

“Don’t, Seeker. Just… don’t.”

“But, what about Anders? Does he…”

“He knows. I sent a letter. Leave it be.” 

Bethany sighs as she braces herself to knock on Anders’ door. It had been one week since she received the letter from Varric. She took the week to mourn alone. She would not let Aveline, who received her own letter, in when she came to check on her. She was completely distraught and no one needed to see that. She was strong and tough. Of course she was. She was a Warden. But being alone allowed her to feel what she needed to without being seen.

Varric had sent her Anders’ letter as well. He was “just being cautious of Blondie’s… condition.” Varric thought it was best if Anders was with someone else when he heard the news. Varric was probably right.

Aveline had taken both of them to a secluded part of Eastern Ferelden when the Wardens started falling to Corypheus. Fighting him with Hawke before allowed Bethany to see that the direction they were heading was dangerous. It allowed her, and a few other Warden friends, to run before things got worse. Bethany knocked on Anders’ door. 

“Oh, hello Bethany. Is there something wrong? I haven’t seen you around much. Are you alright?” Anders asked as he opened the door.

She swallowed and looked away from him. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes when she told him. This was already painful enough. 

“Bethany?” Anders repeated. “What’s wrong?” 

She took a shaky breath before she said anything. “Varric sent a letter.” 

Anders seemed confused. 

“What do you mean? Did he only send one to you? What happened?” 

Bethany stepped inside Anders’ room pushing him aside. She shoved the letter in his hand before turning around to sit at the table in the corner of the room. Anders turned it over in his hand a few times, inspecting the House Tethras seal. 

“Bethany I-”

“Anders please. Just read it. I can’t… I’m sorry.” She still couldn’t look at him. 

Anders walked over to sit on his bed before breaking the seal. He took the letter out and began to read. 

Anders, 

I don’t really know how to start this letter. I guess I should apologize for giving yours to Bethany first. I trust you, and I trust you're under control but what I am about to tell you might… cause some problems. Anders… It’s about Hawke. She’s dead. I don’t have any flowery words or long winded descriptions to help soften the blow. This is it. Our worst fear has come to life. I’m sorry. 

We were in the Fade. The actual Fade, our physical bodies were actually there, not some dream. I wish it was. We were stuck in some sort of nightmare demons section of the Fade that had sealed the memories of the Inquisitor. I think. Honestly, I don’t know much about what was actually happening. I do know that Hawke sacrificed herself to save us. She fought off the Nightmare alone, while Inquisitor Lavellan and Stroud escaped. The Inquisitor exiled the Wardens from Orlais and honestly, I think it’s the best decision she’s made so far. If it weren’t for them…  

No. Sorry I won’t subject this to you right now. You don’t deserve it. I’m so sorry Anders. I was really rooting for you after everything that happened. I’ll write again soon. You and Bethany, please take care of each other. 

    -Varric

Tears started running down Anders' face almost as soon as he started the letter. Hawke was gone. She was dead. Killed by some fucking thing that Corypheus alied himself with to… what? Become a God? His Hawke, his love, was dead because of some delusional Magister who just refused to stay dead?

“Anders. Anders you have to calm down.” Bethany stood from her seat. Anders slid to the floor as he clutched his ears and began to scream. He could feel Justice surge through him, trying to take control. He was consumed with a need to take Vengeance for Hawke. She did not deserve this. She was the last person in the world who should have sacrificed herself. Why couldn’t they just have left her alone? She had been through enough the last several years. 

Bethany ran to his side and took him by the shoulders, now crying herself. “Anders, please. Stay with me. You’re the only family I have left. You have to stay here.” 

“Why did she have to die? What did they do to her? Corypheus will pay for what he has done to her! I will rip apart the Fade to find what did this!” 

“Anders you can’t help her if you do that. You have to hold it together for Hawke. You have to help her by being here. Protecting yourself and helping me. The mages still need your help. She wouldn’t want this. Anders you have to fight this, please.” Bethany kept going, trying anything to keep Anders anchored to her. She couldn’t let Justice take control. Not now. 

It took a while, but eventually Anders was able to regain control of himself. They sat there, holding one another unable to control their tears. Sobs wracked Anders' body as he knelt there. Bethany kept her arms wrapped around him as she cried alongside him. They sat there for a long time before Bethany sat up, wiped the tears away from her face and said, “Come on. Let’s go see what booze Aveline has stored in the kitchen.”

[catharrington]

#3 from that prompt list is Very Good if you’re still doing them:’)

3/ I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that?

Part one: hiding from the cops in an alley. Someone asked for a part two?

***

“Hey, jerk!” Steve jogged to catch up to Billy. His sneakers skidding to a stop across the sidewalk. In the middle of the night, between bars and restaurants, the glow of the streetlights blocking out any light from the moon, the cement seemed damp somehow.

Gravel crunches under foot as Billy’s boots stomp onwards. He fished out a smoke and was now flicking his lighter open obnoxiously to light it. Steve had half the mind to pick it from his lips. Suck it down himself, but instead he buried his hands in his pockets and kept up.

“Where the hell are you going?” Steve muttered. Voice low where he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with Billy.

“Don’t know.” A long exhale of Marbolo red. “Don’t know where we are at, honestly.”

Steve opened his mouth to catch that exhaled smoke. “We are lost?” He asked.

Billy only nodded his head. His fingers anxiously toying with his smoke as he lifted it back to his lips.

They hadn’t run very far from the bar, but they did slip outside the back alley way they did not come in from so the streets around them were unfamiliar. Darker, grimier, seem to be narrow as hell and squeezing them together somehow.

Steve felt his shoulder brush by Billy’s for a second as they walked. He thinks back to the bar with it’s packed dance floor, strobing lights, perfect to get lost in. Steve had nudged Billy on the shoulder as soon as they got in. Pointed to the dance floor like a kid pointing at a toy through a Christmas shop window.

“Let’s dance,” he spoke loudly over the music right into Billy’s ear. The warmth of his breath moving around those curls Billy’s got laid perfectly.

Billy had pushed him off, one hand casually swatting at Steve as if he said a dorky joke. “I’m gonna get a drink,” he called back to Steve over his shoulder.

It wasn’t really Steve’s fault he found a guy who would dance with him. It wasn’t his fault he had to take to the dance floor alone. And it must be some cosmic fate, or maybe metal heads are just his type, that the ‘creep’ came up and started dancing with him.

Long hair blown big and bouncy with a hair dryer, denim jacket well loved and reeking of smoke and sex covered in patches of bands Steve might recal from Billy’s cassette collection. As Steve trailed his fingers gentley up the guys back and squeezed for purchase he could feel a bigger patch one that was silky to the touch and sewn on by hand.

Steve shouted across the music asking “what band is this one?” His short fingernails raking across teasingly.

The guy laughed, he had a handsome smile, and boldly wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. Dragging Steve into his bubble until he’s standing chest to chest. Steve’s arms around his shoulders wind tighter, holding on, embolden by the music and low lights to reach for the cascade of long hair. Run his long, thin fingers over the ends so he’s petting the upturned collar of his denim jacket each time.

Steve’s thinking about how Billy turns up his collar sometimes too.

He swallows thickly, trying to focus on the way the guy’s hands push up against the hem of his shirt. Steve can see how one of his teeth is crooked as he smirks.

It would have been a good memory, would have been a good night of dancing and forgetting and maybe getting this older guy to buy him drinks from the bar. But they don’t last an hour on the dance floor before Billy comes back. Ruddy pink in the face already, his leather jacket sweating a wet line down his chest, insisting to Steve it’s time to head back. Grabbing one of his arms off from around the guy’s neck.

The next second turned into a fight before Steve even registered it. To flowery and limp from the feeling of big hands around his waist to follow the screaming match too closely. The tug of war. He just remembers seeing the guy go down, red spilling from his nose bright like a cherry and vodka tonic, and someone shouting to call the cops.

Billy had grabbed him and run.

Steve sucks down a breath of polluted city air. “Why the hell do you have to be an asshole all the time?” He breathes out.

Billy stops, they’re in front of a 24 hour coffee shop that’s got lights flickering for the best cup in town, and Billy turns to him bewildered.

“Why?” Steve repeats. He stops walking himself and turns to Billy. Pissed off at his missed opportunity back from the bar, pissed that Billy looks really- really pretty in flickering blue neon.

“How come you act like such an asshole and push me around, shove me away, pretend like we’re not just pussyfooting around each other like pining idiots, and somehow I still really, really, like you?”

Steve let it out, in one breath, his voice wavering and cracking. He blinked so his eyes would stop getting wet. Must be the fog from the sewers irritating them.

Billy stood there. Dumbfounded in front of the coffee shop. His mouth hanging open made his plump lower lip look even bigger. He didn’t move, didn’t reply. Just stood.

Steve bit into his own bottom lip. Waited for what felt like forever before he finally rolled his eyes and started to walk away. “Whatever,” he slurred, “pretend I didn’t say shit. Okay? Let’s just keep pretending-,”

Those blue eyes made sharp as topaz in the light narrow down to slits. Billy’s body turns; his shoulder bracing as if to block Steve from going anywhere. He’s thicker than Steve, built, and standing with his legs spread ready for a fight.

Steve doesn’t think much as he turns to let himself get pressed against the glass. It’s cold behind him, just the fabric of his tshirt keeping the late night chill off. Just the boiling heat from Billy’s body pushing closer keeps the cold away. He’s shivering.

“What are you looking at me like that for?” He asks timidly. Billy’s dark brows knit together into confusion as he sinks lower and lower into Steve’s body. Eyes flicking across his startled expression, Steve’s coffee colored eyes swimming with fear; down to his lips quivering. Begging. Asking.

“Bill,” he gasps before his lips are caught in a desperate kiss.

Billy’s all teeth, surging forward the last few inches to slam Steve back against the glass. He opens his mouth and licks inside posessivily, twisting his tongue over Steve’s mouth, across the back of his sharp molars and the soft inside of his cheek. Leaning back for breath and leaving a glistening string of spit connecting their swollen lips.

His smirk cuts the string, makes it drop thick and wet down into Billy’s 5’oclock shadow. His kiss is mean, and rough, just like his beard stubble, just like his smirk.

“Don’t want you dancing with anyone else, Harrington. You got that?” Billy pants, his cheeks flushing red and his lips. “I’ll dance with your lame ass like some kinda square if that’s what gets you going. Just- don’t dance with anyone else,” his tone takes on a whine. His eyes not moving from where they are begging Steve’s.

It’s funny. He’s such an idiot. They could have been doing this the whole time. “Asshole,” Steve chuckles breathlessly as he wraps his arms around Billy’s neck and brings him down for a kiss. Now, when his hands find leverage around the collar of a jacket, it’s Billy’s curls he gets to slip his fingers though. It’s Billy he gets to make out with. Maybe not in the heat and noise of some popular club, but pressed up against store front glass under the flickering neon sign of a lonely street. Made cozy by the two of them.

[vincess-princess]

What Is Lost, What Is Found

Chapter 4.

Word count: 3344 Trigger warnings: none

The next time Tommy came accompanied. Vince followed him into the store. The contrast between the two was so drastic no one could imagine them hanging out together. The blond surfing star in spotlessly white pants couldn’t belong near a ragged, long-haired disaster that Tommy was.

Vince headed directly towards Mick. Tommy lingered behind, avoiding his gaze. Mick gripped the edge of the counter so tight his knuckles went white. He wasn’t that nervous even during any job interview. He wasn’t that nervous with Tommy as well; talking to him was easy, in a way. He was open, childish and eager to please, always curious and ashamed of it, and so talkative Mick only had to sprinkle the conversation with “yes”s and “wow”s. Vince, on the other hand, was a tougher nut to crack. Mick had to be careful.

“Couldn’t imagine that I’d come back here,” Vince said, looked Mick right in the eyes and flashing a smile. “But I’m ready to do everything possible to listen to some good music. Everything, sir.” He smiled again. Mick didn’t like this smile. There was something daring in it.

“Today’s “everything possible” includes sorting out records, washing the floor and dusting the shelves. Whatever you choose.”

“Oh,” Vince let out a hearty laugh, “sir, I don’t wanna work. Can I get it for a smile? Or dancing, maybe? I’m a good dancer.”

Vince stepped forward and leaned onto the counter, his face unnervingly close to Mick’s.

“No, thanks. You can dance your heart out after you do some work,” Mick suggested. “Some real work, I mean.”

“What about singing, then? I’m a good singer as well. Tommy can confirm. Right, Tommy?”

Tommy’s been standing behind Vince and staring at the ground the whole time. He flinched, startled when hearing his name. When Mick looked at him, he started nervously messing with his hair.

“Right,” he said quietly.

Vince put his elbows on the counter and leaned over it. Now his and Mick’s faces were mere inches away. Mick could feel the faint smell of his cologne – something flowery. He wouldn’t expect any other slum kid to wear cologne, but Mick would be more surprised if Vince didn’t wear it. For him, it was just in character.

“Maybe I could offer you something else,” Vince whispered and bit his lip, and Mick couldn’t help but recoil. It finally downed on him what was going on.

They were checking him.

Mick backed down so fast he almost dropped his chair to the floor. A wave of anger mixed with disgust once again washed over him, leaving. Who taught the kid to behave like this? What perverted mind would ever teach him? And why? “Listen, kid, I’m not your lay in some nightclub-“

“Why not?” Vince interrupted him. He smiled again, but this time it wasn’t pretty. It was defying.

“How old are you, fifteen?” Mick said, looking above Vince’s shoulder - at Tommy. The boy was red as a lobster and tried to hide his face in his hair. “I’ll be gentle and say you’re not my type – like any other minor. Now, I’m by no means an altruist. I’m not offering free music to anyone - only in exchange for a job well done. If you don’t wanna work, why are you here?”

“Tommy sang you such praises I decided to check you out as well,” Vince replied. His defying smile disappeared, but Mick could see his shoulders relax. Somehow he knew that he passed the test, or whatever they had come up with. He really shouldn’t have felt that relieved. Stupid kids with their stupid games!

“And what do you think?” Mick asked. “Our first impressions of each other might be a little biased.”

“And what do you think of me, sir?” Vince tilted his head, smiling slyly.

Mick sighed. “You’re one sleazy motherfucker.”

Vince stared at him for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. Tommy finally raised his head, looking at Vince with confusion, as though asking, what’s so funny about it? Mick knew he would never tell that to Tommy – it would hurt him rather than amuse. Vince, however, was a completely different case.

“You have your ways,” Mick continued once Vince stopped laughing, “but I’m immune to them. If you wanna listen to some records, that pile over there needs sorting. If not, then get out of my store.”

“You’re not very polite to your future employees, aren’t you?”

“Records, boy. They are waiting for you.”

Vince smiled again, but this time Mick actually liked it. It wasn’t sly, it wasn’t defying, it wasn’t a mask Vince put on to hide his actual intentions. This time, it was excited – like a music-loving kid should be when faced with such a chance.

“Okay, okay, boss, I’m on my way already.”

Mick and Tommy looked at him until he disappeared behind a shelf. Then Mick caught Tommy’s eye and winked. Tommy smiled, at first unconfidently, swiftly switching it to a happy beaming, and winked back.

“Hey, boss,” Vince called Mick a few minutes later. He approached, only to see Vince sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded with stacks of vinyls, holding two records in his hands. “Kiss or New York Dolls”?

“Neither,” Mick shook his head. “What do you young people find in New York Dolls? They’re hardly bearable to hear.”

“Mick!” Tommy gasped behind him and dropped the mop. It landed on his feet with a loud smack. “How dare you!”

“Sir, you barely look twenty-five, you still qualify as a young person,” Vince grinned. The motherfucker knew how to compliment.

“I’m older than you think,” Mick only said. The boy’s words weren’t far from the truth. Mick wasn’t even that old, even though his body tried to prove him otherwise his entire life. His own twenty-five seemed even farther away than it actually was. “And don’t call me ‘sir’.”

“Mick, then?” Vince smiled. “That feels way more intimate, you know?”

Mick opened his mouth, looked into Vince’s innocent eyes, closed it, sighed and went back to the counter. “Put on your dolls, or what they’re called,” he said from there. “I don’t care.”

He heard Tommy fiercely whispering “Don’t put them on! Get some Jeff Beck, Mick likes him.” And then, in Vince’s typical Californian drawl, “But Jeff Beck is so-o out-of-date”. Tommy said something again, now unintelligibly. Mick heard some movement from behind the shelves. “Hey, that hurts!” Vince exclaimed.

Then Jeff Beck started playing.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I told you kids, put on your dolls or kisses or whatever!” Mick shouted. Jeff Beck stopped playing. Some more movement and hissing behind the shelves, and then Vince’s blonde head showed up above them.

“Maybe we could make a compromise?” he said, in that sweet voice of his that eliminated any attempt to disagree with its owner. “There surely are bands we both enjoy. How about Sweet?”

“Pop music with a rock n’ roll pretension.”

“Judas Priest?”

“They’re all gay as hell out there.”

“Cheap Trick?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Aerosmith?”

“Which album?”

“Toys in the attic.”

Mick spent a second or two mulling over the suggestion. If he keeps rejecting, they won’t listen to any music at all. “Okay,” he said then.

“See?” Vince turned to Tommy. “That works!”

“Maybe,” Tommy still was unconvinced. His desire to please Mick was both complimenting and disturbing. “Mick, are you sure you’re okay with Aerosmith?”

“Don’t worry, kid. They’re alright. They drink too much, but who doesn’t?”

“You too?” Vince asked suddenly, no smile on his face anymore. Mick stared at him wordlessly, frantically trying to come up with a decent response to such an outright question.

“Who the do you think you are to ask things like that?” He finally said, anger building up in his chest. Not so much because of the impolite question as because he couldn’t honestly say “no” to this.

“I’m just wondering. You don’t need to get all up in arms,” Vince said sweetly. “So, do you?”

“None of your business”. Mick clenched the edge of the counter again. A simple, on the first sight, question left him panicking. He really shouldn’t be so worried about some kid’s opinion on him.

“So you do.”

“No!” – Mick exclaimed maybe a little bit louder than he intended. Vince, however, didn’t seem to notice. “I, um, used to. But I’ve quit. I’m clean now.” Blood rushed to Mick’s ears. Thank god they were covered by his hair, or Vince would suspect something. Who the hell did the boy consider himself to be to ask an adult, almost a stranger, things like these? And, what’s more, expect an honest answer?

“Oh, that’s nice to hear.” Vince laughed, his personality back to his flirtatious self. He tried to mask the relief in his voice, but failed miserably. For some reason, it was very important for the kid. “Sorry if I hurt your feelings. I was just curious. You look like a cool rock n’ roll guy, and I know a lot of them drink and do drugs.”

“Keep your curiosity to yourself,” Mick muttered. “And your flattery too.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. The kid believed him, after all.

“As you wish,” smile disappeared from Vince’s face. Mick’s words must have been too harsh. And Mick totally wasn’t feeling guilty over making the kid shut up and mind his own business. Absolutely not.

“That’s not flattery, Mick!” Tommy opened his mouth for the first time in a while, pulling Mick out of his thoughts. Mick would never imagine Tommy could be that quiet for so long. “You do look like a cool rock star. I mean, your hair looks fabulous! And your attitude… if I met you on a street, I’d definitely think you’re in a band.”

“Vince, your flattery is contagious,” Mick couldn’t help but smile. That was the best compliment he had heard in a while. “I used to be in a band, some time ago. All of that is over, though.”

“See? I knew it!” Tommy exclaimed. “But why is it over?”

“It didn’t work out.” Mick hated to say that – it still hurt, and badly, - but the truth was more important than his feelings. Maybe if he warned the boy now, it later would be easier for him to accept that not all dreams come true. Maybe Tommy would thank Mick for it - later, when he is mature enough. “A lot of people want to be in a band, few of them actually find one, and even fewer make it big. We were one of the unlucky.”

“Did you try playing with other bands?” Vince chimed in. “Maybe you just haven’t found your band yet.”

“Do I look like a fucking idiot?” Vince’s condescending tone again awoke all the anger Mick suppressed in his chest today because of this little motherfucker. “I’ve changed tons of different bands. I played in probably every shitty bar in LA. I’ve been looking for the band since school. I slept on the floor and stole food from shops because my band couldn’t get enough money to rent a motel room. I did everything possible to make it big. And I still failed.”

Vince blinked in confusion, probably not expecting such a harsh reply, and said nothing. Mick didn’t want to hurt the boy, but the fact that he caught Vince, who could probably outspeak anyone, off-guard, made him feel some kind of pride.

“Oh, Mick,” Tommy sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Mick tried to keep his voice calm, but some of his irritation spilled into it. He didn’t want to be reminded of all those years lost pursuing the unreachable dream. When were they going to drop the topic at last? “That’s life. Nothing goes as you expect it to go.”

“Sorry for asking,” Vince finally spoke, quieter than usual. “It was very tactless of me.”

“It sure was,” Mick murmured. “But it’s alright. You didn’t know.”

“Good.” Vince returned to the stacks of records and began putting them on the shelves again. Tommy returned to wiping the floor. Everything seemed to calm down now.

Still, Mick was uneasy. Unanswered questions hung in the air, and Vince kept glancing at him. He had something on his mind.

“What instrument did you play?” Vince asked after a few minutes of silence. Here it was.

“The guitar.”

“Do you still play?”

“Sometimes,” Mick said. He tried to remember the last time he picked up the guitar. Definitely not this week, he returned home late and his neighbors wouldn’t be pleased by hearing an electric guitar play in the middle of the night. “I usually stay late in the store.”

“What do you do here for so long?” Vince asked. What a nosy little asshole, Mick thought with unexpected warmth. Such attention towards himself both flattered and unnerved him.

“Sort records, wash shelves, count money.” Mick sighed and leaned back on his chair. He felt like he was being questioned by the police, but with more attention. “A lot of stuff.”

“But doesn’t Tommy help you? Why do you have to do it yourself?”

“Because some, hm, friends of his are worried about his feisty ass.” Mick cut off. “Tommy, didn’t you tell them?”

“I, um…” Tommy stammered. It looked like someone was going to have a serious talk with his friends later. “I, well, told them that I come here sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Mick underlined. “Once or twice a week. All because you and that boy Nikki don’t let him work a decent job.”

“Um,” was Mick hallucinating, or did Vince’s ears go red? “We were just worried for him.”

“I get it.” Mick interrupted him. “That’s why I allowed him to bring you too. I’d gladly let Tommy help me if not for your, as he said, paranoia.”

“But the situation is super weird at best, don’t you think so? You catch a shoplifter red-handed and instead of calling the police on him you offer him a job.”

“Yes, because I’m a person who has a possibility of making my own decisions. Listen, Vince, if you don’t like me, if you find my behavior weird, I get it. I almost called the cops on you, that was probably not the best way to make acquaintance. You came to check – that’s okay, I understand your concerns. I’m no pedophile or a pervert. The three of you obviously need money. So I offered Tommy some. In exchange for decent work, of course.”

Vince stood silent for a couple of moments, thinking. Then he nodded briefly. “Okay. Yes. Sorry. You know, I had, as you said, “concerns”. But I see I was mistaken.”

“Good we figured it out,” Mick cut him off and turned away, for some reason not wanting to look Vince in the eyes. Tommy, staying silent while listening to their conversation intently, turned away to resemble his work, but Mick could swear he sighed with relief. Everything they needed to say to each other had been said. Even Vince ran out of questions and went back to the records.

Mick really wanted to fish out a bottle of whiskey from under the counter and take a few sips, or, rather, gulps. But he had to keep up appearances. He just lied he wasn’t an alcoholic, it would be stupid to prove it otherwise right in front of Vince. Not that he cared much about Vince’s opinion on him. Not at all.

“Mick?” Tommy’s voice brought Mick back to reality.

“Huh?”

“Would you- could you- if we help you in the store so that you have time after your shift, could you bring your guitar and play something for us? I’d love to hear you play!”

Mick knew this was coming. The boys considered him a rock star, apparently, even though his groups’ gigs never got more than a hundred people in. For them, he was a part of the world they wanted to live in. A very secluded and unfriendly, but a part nevertheless.

“Tommy, I usually have customers to serve,” Mick reminded. He hated to admit that, but a small part of his brain was definitely up for it. They were probably the only ones willing to hear him play in a long time, and he missed it immensely.

“After the shift, then?” Tommy looked at him with his big brown eyes, and Mick knew he would submit to those puppy eyes earlier or later. “You said you stay late to do some work, maybe we could help you with that and give you some extra time?”

“’We?’ What, Vince, are you coming back?”

“Why not?” Vince said with a friendly smile. “I’d love to hear you play too. Maybe we can even persuade Nikki to come. He wants to learn guitar.”

“Wow, even Nikki will be interested? I feel so popular,” Mick laughed. Their attention did flatter him, no matter what his feelings about the problem were. “Okay, maybe some time in the future. Oh, if I’m not mistaken, Vince, you sing? You could sing something with me playing.”

Tommy dropped the rag and made a choked sound, but Vince didn’t pay attention. Once Mic mentioned his singing, he as though froze on place, his whole body tense.

It was a low move, and Mick knew it, but today’s cross-examination of him made him a little bit irritated. Or maybe not a little bit. Rather, a lot.

“Erm, I-“ Vince began, then turned to Tommy. “I’m going to cut your tongue out someday,” he promised gravely. “Sorry, Mick. I don’t sing anymore.”

“Why not? If I can come back to playing the guitar for you, you could come back to singing. Maybe, if you work here for a while, you’ll be able to afford a drum kit for Tommy. Almost a band!”

“No,” Vince shook his head. “You don’t understand. I don’t sing anymore.”

“Can I ask why?”

“It brings back bad memories,” Vince cut him off. Something in his voice was making Mick not want to continue the conversation. Something hidden and grotesque.

“Well, playing guitar sure brings back my memories about roaches in all the flats I rented. But I’m not refusing to play because of that. Anyway,” he concluded, feeling he’d already said enough, “it’s a shame that you can’t sing for us, but you do you.”

“Thanks for understanding.” Vince nodded shortly and returned back to the stack. Tommy looked at both of them, moving his gaze back and forth, frowning in confusion. He felt the tension in the air, but couldn’t figure out its reason. What a naïve little boy he still was.

Vince, on the other hand, was very far from being naïve. He might have looked sixteen, but talked like he was thirty. It bothered Mick. Kids mature faster when there are a lot of hardships. And the boy sure had his share of them in his life. Tommy’s optimism and liveliness saved him from that; Vince wasn’t so lucky.

Mick could only wonder what made him like that. And he was pretty sure it was connected with the fact that he didn’t sing anymore.

He wanted to ask more questions. He itched to know what happened, and how he could help. But he knew Vince wouldn’t say a word unless he trusted him completely, and that wasn’t going to happen any time in the foreseeable future. He was a tough nut to crack.

Toys in the attic finished playing. Mick got up and went to change the record. “So, what are we gonna play next?”

“What do you want to play?” Vince said.

“Kiss!” Tommy suggested, beaming.

“Vince?”

“But you said you don’t like Kiss.” Vince frowned. “It’s your store, after all.”

“Yes, but I let you two choose now. Convince me that your Kiss are worth listening to.”

“Okay,” Vince said and turned around to dig into a pile of records, and Mick could swear he saw a little smile on his face.

Honestly, he was ready to listen through Kiss’ entire discography for that smile.

[ghoste-catte]

gaalee - 6, 20, 24 ❤

6. What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

Hmm, this was a tough one, because frankly both of them are straight-up pretty weird looking. I know in canon Gaara has a bunch of Suna ladies that crush on him, but you’ll notice it’s only Suna ladies (and Fuu) which leads me to the conclusion that Sunan aesthetics are less about looks and more about power. Power = attractive, which is why Gaara seems to attract a flock of lady admirers, in my opinion. ‘Cause listen, the dude looks like he hasn’t slept more than a few hours in the past ten years, and he’s the only person I’ve ever seen who managed to make himself look worse by running a comb through his hair. Plus he smiles in a really unnerving way (Have y’all seen that photo of all the Kage from Boruto where Gaara’s making the grimace emoji expression? That’s what I’m talking about). 

Anyways, now that I’ve just dissed Gaara’s looks really hard, let’s talk about physical attraction. I don’t see Gaara as being particularly invested in his partner’s looks overall; he just doesn’t strike me as the type. I think he likes Lee because Lee is kind to him, and doesn’t hold a grudge, and is strong. I think he likes that Lee is in many ways his equal and that he doesn’t have to worry about protecting Lee (his thoughts on the relative vulnerability of his partner compared to himself comes up a bit in the Gaara Hiden light novel) ... at least, he doesn’t have to worry about protecting Lee from anyone but Lee’s own self-destructive impulses, for the most part. Physically, I think he would then be attracted to Lee’s body/muscles, because that’s a physical representation of his strength. Also I think Lee’s turtle mouth is cute, so let’s go with the little turtle mouth as well. 

Of the two of them, Lee is definitely the more physically oriented and probably finds a lot of things attractive about Gaara, although as I’ve already established, I hc that Gaara is a straight up little sand gremlin in physical appearance. But I think the feature that would sell him would be Gaara’s eyes. Not because they’re unique or because of the tanuki marks or anything, but because I think when he first starts learning to read Gaara’s expressions, he conveys everything in his eyes. The rest of his face is relatively impassive and inexpressive, so as they’re getting to know each other I think Lee spends a lot of time staring at Gaara’s eyes to try and figure out what he’s thinking and feeling. And that probably grows into something of a favoritism.

20. What do their family/friends think of their relationship?

Oof, okay, this is gonna be a somewhat long one because they each have like three people who are the most important in their lives. 

So, for Gaara:

Kankuro thinks Lee is weird as hell, but ultimately well-meaning. He respects a guy who lulls you into a false sense of security by looking like an animated green bean and then straight up clocks you in the face so hard you shit your pants. I do think him and Lee butt heads on occasion, because they’re both stubborn as hell and Kankuro’s a bit of a bastard while Lee’s very noble, so they don’t have very well aligned values. And neither of them is willing to back down from a fight. So there are probably some family dinners where Kankuro gets this close to flipping a table because he can’t believe how stupid Lee is being about something, Gaara why do you even put up with this dude? But there’s definitely a respect there, and Lee is a genuinely nice guy, so Kankuro probably takes advantage of that a little bit (”Lee, can you run to the store and get me...” and Lee of course says yes even though Kankuro has two perfectly functional legs). 

Temari initially doesn’t trust Lee. I don’t think she believes at first that Lee isn’t playing the long con and going after Gaara for revenge. It takes her a long time to realize that, no, Lee really is just like that and that he genuinely doesn’t hold a grudge at all. She’s also the most likely to get worked up about the political implications and be scared for how this might affect Gaara’s standing. I think Shikamaru probably sells her on it a bit, because he’s known Lee for longer. And I think seeing how happy Lee makes her brother and how Lee makes Gaara come out of his shell really seals the deal for her. 

Naruto doesn’t get it, but he’s supportive. You know that meme that’s like “he’s not quite there but he’s got the spirit”? That’s Naruto’s approach to basically anyone’s relationship. He doesn’t have any room to judge anyway; his romantic life is a complete shitshow. And Naruto’s pretty guileless so I doubt he really even thinks through any of the potential pitfalls in their relationship. Gaara tells him and he goes “Oh okay, cool!” and then back to talking about Sasuke. 

As for Lee,

Gai does not trust Gaara at all after he caught him trying to kill Lee in the hospital room. I think that’s probably something he never even brought up to Lee, because he wanted Lee to focus on his recovery. So when Lee ends up bringing up that he and Gaara are dating, Gai kind of pales and goes quiet for a minute and then tells Lee very seriously, “He tried to kill you.” And Lee is probably like, “Haha, I know but that was in a match! Anyone could have killed anyone!” and then Gai has to drop the bad news that no, it wasn’t just during the match. Ultimately though he probably gives Gaara a very stern “what are your intentions with my precious student” speech (that Gaara mostly doesn’t understand because it’s so flowery), but is convinced enough by Gaara’s answers that he gives him a big snotty, tear-filled hug. 

Tenten has kind of the same wariness around Gaara initially as Gai does, but she’s much slower to warm up. She sees herself as Lee and Gai’s common sense/”angel on their shoulder” and she doesn’t necessarily believe that Lee has his own best interests at heart. She probably thinks at first blush that Lee is just overcome with infatuation like he was with Sakura or any other spur-of-the-moment crush that he may have, and definitely thinks Lee is going to get hurt. She absolutely threatens Gaara, more than once, even though she wouldn’t stand a chance against him in a match. In my opinion would be the last of Team Gai to come around. She’s probably the person on the morning of Lee’s wedding straightening his shiny orange bow tie and asking him if he’s sure he wants to go through with it. 

Neji (who is alive, damnit) also doesn’t trust Gaara, but he has his own emotional walls up about caring for Lee. So on the surface he tells himself “what do I care, that’s Lee’s bad decision to make and I’m not responsible if he gets hurt”, but he is definitely on edge and wary whenever he sees them together. I think he and Gaara are more similar in personality though, in the sense that both of them have trauma that has made them emotionally closed-off, and Neji recognizes something of himself in Gaara and is probably the first person to actually believe that Gaara means what he says and doesn’t have bad intentions. He sees himself in that inability to express one’s feelings properly in a way that convinces others that you’re genuine, and he probably is the one to bring Gai around in the end. 

24. Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times?

I answered this one here!

OTP ask meme!

[p-artsypants]

Queen! I have come to ask another question if you don’t mind! After reading “Longest Night” I have been wanting to start writing so I can produce works as amazing as yours! The only thing is... I don’t know how to write well... For example my dialogue is boring like “Marinette said”, and when I end up writing a chapter it’s so short and fast paced. I want to produce a story like you did, long, intense, exciting! Do you have links, information, anything for a beginner writer? Much appreciated!

ME? QUEEN?? I’M HONORED!!

(I am not a professional writer, and what I say below is not gospel, but what I do in my own writing.)

Now, hold on. Boring? Let’s say simple. Which is absolutely fine. You have to start somewhere, and you only get better with practice. For me, I read a lot of older novels for examples of writing. 

Tumblr talks about fancy writing. They like to say ‘don’t use said’ ‘don’t use their names over and over’. Except I totally do. If you use ‘said’ a lot, people stop reading it. It acts like a colon, like in a script. You can flavor it of course, by using ‘whispered’ and ‘shouted’ appropriately. Sometimes I just replace it with an action. 

She moved closer to the door. “What did you say?” 

That acts as a tag for the person talking. But you don’t have to come up with a hundred different ways to say ‘said’. 

Same thing with name tags. The more you use careers, ages, hair color, anything, the more it interrupts the sentence. It’s fine to be simple and just use names. DON’T USE HAIR COLOR! I used to do it, but when I did notice that it wasn’t good writing, I started to notice it in things I was reading.  If there’s only two people talking, one male, one female, ‘he’ and ‘she’ should suffice for tags. 

Every time someone new talks, tag the dialogue.  

Example of what NOT to do:

The designer exasperated, “Adrien, this habit is making your grades slip.” 

The blond moaned, “Dad, you just don’t understand! I’m expressing myself!” 

The father articulated, “yes, but rollerderby is a waste of time, and not to mention dangerous.” 

The fencer uttered, “It’s who I am, Father! It’s in my blood!” 

While none of this is necessarily wrong, I find it distracting. You can mention hair color once, to let the readers know that character’s hair color. But I wouldn’t use it as a tag. Using careers or age is fine if the character is not introduced. I used that a lot in Longest Night for the henchmen in the background.

An arm linked with his and pulled him away. “Oh Chat Noir, you shouldn’t drink that. The floor is dirty…”

Grimalkin whined, and met the eyes of the stranger.

No, not a stranger. A tall man, wearing a gray and pink suit with a hat. Mr. Ramier. “Thank you for stopping those muggers, even though you’re in no condition to do so.”

Grimalkin wanted to hiss and pull away and hide, but the pigeon man had always been kind to him. Unless he was akumatized, and even then, it was a relief to be fighting him.

“Come along now, the police will be here any minute.”

Grimalkin whined again and tried to pull away, with little effort.

“Mr. Kemper wants you to hide in the back room. No doubt they’re looking for you!”

He…wanted him to hide? That was unexpected, but not unwelcome. Grimalkin followed Mr. Ramier to the back room that Mr. Kemper was gesturing to.

Up until the bolded sentence, the owner of the store Grimalkin was in was only referred to as ‘the owner’ because he didn’t have a name. After Mr. Ramier says the name out loud, the tag changes from ‘the owner’ to ‘Mr. Kemper’. 

In English classes all through High School, teachers told you not to use run on sentences or incomplete sentences. But, I tend to use both. In fiction writing, a lot of the rules don’t apply. Grammar is still pretty hard and fast, but sentence structure is more loosy goosy. Run on sentences for fast paces sections that go on and on and makes you hold your breath and hold the anxiety. And incomplete sentences. To make you breathe. Focus.

Commas and periods make you breathe. Which. is. why. you. read. this. sentence. like. you. have. Asthma. Using punctuation is a must, but it’s also a handy tool for setting the tone.

I write dialogue the way I talk in real life. Incomplete sentences, pauses, and stuttering in the form of repeated words with a dash. I was recently told by a reviewer that I use ellipses (...) too much in my writing, and that it’s distracting. So, use that one to your own discretion. 

Marinette said, “Adrien, I need to talk to you.

Adrien looked at her. “Sure what’s up?”

“I just wanted to let you know...I have feelings.”

“Feelings?”

“Feelings.” She confirmed, a little too firmly. “For...you.”

His eyebrows raised. “Are they...good feelings?”

Alya leaned in. “Good. Good feelings, Sunshine.”

“Okay, they’re good feelings. Would you care to clarify?”

She opened her mouth, pausing, and then, “No.”

“Marinette...” Alya gave her a look.

“Okay, yes. Alright.”

Adrien just stared at Marinette, his eyes kind. Never judging. He was her friend, wasn’t he? He cared about her. Surely, he’d never laugh at her or be offended by her being completely and utterly in love with him--

“I...I love you.” She blurted.

His eyes widened.

“I’m-I’m in love...with you. Is what I mean. I mean, anyone would love you. And even if I wasn’t in love with you, I’d still love you, you know? Even Alya loves you! Right Alya?”

Alya just rested a hand on her forehead.

“Right, so,” Marinette continued. “I’m just...just letting you-you know, know? And I hope that’s-that’s cool with you. That I’m cool with you, er, that you’re cool with me. Loving you.”

“Marinette.” Adrien said.

“Hm?” She squeaked.

“It’s more than cool. It’s amazing.”

Now, as far as pacing. That’s something you’ll have to learn as you go, because I haven’t found a hard rule for pacing. For Longest Night, I have sections that are very flowery:

Paris was a city trapped in time. The rain blurred the past from the future, the happy and the sad, the night and the day. Erik Satie tried to emulate this effect with his Gymnopedie, and the impressionist painters worked with soft edges to create an atmosphere of calming mystery.

Here, on the sidewalk somewhere in Montparnasse, Adrien and Marinette, or rather, Grimalkin and Lady Lacrima, stood in the haze, freedom and imprisonment blurring lines. They were out, Salo was dead…

But it didn’t really feel real.

This section creates an opening scene. It describes the setting and gives the audience a clear image in their mind about what it’s like. But there’s nothing actually happening. The main characters are standing still, and there’s rain. I could have easily just said: 

It was raining. Grimalkin and Lady Lacrima embraced on the sidewalk. They were free, but it didn’t feel like it.

This is saying the exact same thing, only more concise and with less imagery. Now, if that wasn’t confusing enough, consider not dragging it on for too long. Leave some of it up to the imagination. If I pick up a fic, and the first three paragraphs are talking about how the light is so gently flittering into the room, I might just glaze over. 

It was the perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. A soft bed, cradling her as if she was fragile, and a warm blanket weighing her to the bed. A soft ambient light held back the darkness, but didn’t pierce through her lids.

Marinette tried to open her eyes, caked as they were. The light was dim, illuminating gridded ceiling titles immediately above her. It smelled faintly of chemicals, while a droning hiss carried through the air. Her neck ached, but as she tilted her head, she briefly looked around the room. No one to her left, though she did see a strange machine and a metal stand, an IV stand. A tube ran from the bag down to her arm. A door cracked open revealed a bathroom and another door on the far side of the room was closed, but silhouetted figure stood in the window.

To her right, she found the owner of the voice, her own mother, sitting in a chair by her side, hand in hers, and reading from a book. Jane Eyre, as it looked. Farther down the bed, her father sat in another chair, his hand wrapped loosely around her foot.

Behind her parents, orange light filtered through the light curtains.

A bright red blob caught her attention. Tikki laid curled up on her chest.

A moment more, allowing her brain to digest all she could see, and she realized she was in a hospital.

I took the time to really flesh out the setting in this chapter for a few reasons. A) We’ve never seen this hospital room in the TV show, so we have no visuals for what it looks like. B) I’m describing it from Marinette’s point of view. She doesn’t know what the machines are for, and she doesn’t know who the person standing in the door is. I, as the author, would know, but even though this is written in 3rd person, it’s limited.  I’m giving everyone the same knowledge that Marinette has. 

I wrote a one shot that all goes very fast. It never really slows down. That’s because I never felt the need to slow things down. There’s a few sections where I really described the anxiety that Marinette was feeling, using her senses and what she was doing. 

As Marinette looked across the three girls, her stomach churned with unpleasant feelings. Nerves, nausea, dread…

And idea popped into her head, speaking in a voice that sounded a lot like Tikki. But she simply waved it away with a shake of her head.

‘Please please please don’t be embarrassing and try to ruin this in a fit of jealous rage.’ Alya’s voice piped up, as the angel on the other shoulder.

She swallowed, and looked to Adrien.

He was hunched in his seat, his leg bouncing quickly. She couldn’t see his face, but his body spoke of uncontested anxiety.

Her voice crawled up her throat, resolution pumping through her veins, pounding in her ears, sweating through her palms.

This was a bad idea, a very very bad idea—

“Excuse me, Mr. Agreste?” She blurted, right as he was about to speak.

All eyes were on her, and she felt the immense pressure of it all. This was not like being Ladybug. These weren’t akumas and she had no authority in her civilian clothes.

“Yes, Miss Dupain-Cheng?”

Gabriel looked right at her, staring her down. But his tone held no judgement or impatience. Just curiosity.

“I was hoping, if it isn’t too late. May I also throw my proverbial hat in the ring?”

“You?”

“Yes. Of course, I know I wasn’t invited. So I understand if it’s a no.”

Gabriel was quiet a moment, thinking.

Adrien, however, was staring at her, mouth open, eyes wide. Utterly gobsmacked.

“Adrien, do you have any objections to having Miss Dupain-Cheng join the others in the interview?”

He breathed, his whole body relaxing in one sweep. “No, I don’t mind at all.”

Maybe it was the nerves, but Marinette could have sworn he looked relieved.

“Then I see no problem. Please bring your chair over with the others.”

“Thank you sir,” she said, humbly.

By jumping into Marinette’s head for a second, we kind of pause time. Just for a moment. Enough to make it interesting. 

Wow this went on for a while. I hope it was helpful and that I didn’t come off as condescending anywhere! Happy writing!!

[warmau]

ma'am i need a cupid!au from your hands

here is my humble offering 2 you: cupid!yukhei

ever since february creeped up around the corner you’ve been mercilessly attacked with what you call - the valentines day craze

hearts everywhere - pink everything - couples on your left, couples on your right

matching sweaters, discount chocolates, huge teddy bears you can’t even pick up

valentines day is e v e r y w h e r e 

and all it does is remind you about how,,,,,,,,,,,un-in-love you are 

which sucks because you want to be in love - of course you do, but there just hasn’t been that person yet

you haven’t had that spark that the media and all the songs on billboard are raving about 

the spark you see in your friends eyes when they talk about their partner 

the spark you see between people kissing on the subway platform, from teenagers getting all giddy about it to couples with three kids prancing around them

you always try to brush it off, think that it’ll happen one day, that it’s all up to fate 

but deep down you’re not sure you believe that

“where is cupid when i need him, huh?”

you mumble, walking past the tenth flickering neon sign advertising a couple in a sweet embrace - come inside and pick up some flowers for that special someone!

unknown to you though, is that there is a cupid 

and his name is wong yukhei

and he’s ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, not that good at the job yet

he’s been trying to pick a partner for you since last year, his sidekick and fellow angel ten quips that yukhei needs to stop stalling 

just pull back his arrow and shoot it right through your heart - make you fall in love with that boy you hang around with - jaehyun maybe? or the tutor you go to on the weekend - taeil is it?

but yukhei bickers with ten, he can’t just make you fall in love with anyone 

you deserve the perfect person 

and he’s going to find him for you

ten crosses his hands, soft halo made of roses tilting along with his head

“and whose the perfect person for them then?”

yukhei sighs, he parts the clouds that block his view of you 

and he flutters his wings just to fly a little closer

“don’t you see ten - they need someone whose going to protect them! but not someone who overdoes it, who thinks being macho is cool. they need someone goofy, who can brighten them up with a good laugh. someone who cares deeply, but still has some childlike wonder in them.”

yukhei’s shoulders sag and he mutters to himself

“that jaehyun kid is way too polite, and taeil wouldnt know a good joke if it hit him like a truck”

ten scrunches up his nose

“yukhei,,,,,,,,,,”

yukhei turns and ten sighs 

cupid angels are known for their flowery halos, their light blush pink togas, and their inhumane beauty 

which yukhei has - since he’s a cupid angel himself - but he also has something that’s not very good 

he has an affinity for his human

“i think we both know why you won’t make them fall in love.”

yukhei’s eyes widen

“ten- no - c’mon you know i wouldnt - im not -”

ten puts his hands on his hips, “uhuh - someone goofy with childlike wonder, but still strong enough to protect them? yukhei,,,,,,,you described yourself.”

yukhei looks down, he doesn’t want to admit it but it is a little true 

it’s not like he intended to be assigned to you! to get someone who matched him this well!

so instead he just tries to argue with ten again, but ten isn’t having it

“can’t believe im doing this but -”

yukhei opens his mouth as he watches ten equip his arrow and before he can say anything and stop him 

the arrow goes right through yukhei’s chest - traveling like a light bolt past his body, past the clouds, past the earth and bursting right against your back

you freeze for a moment, because it feels like an electric shock has passed through your skin

what was that? 

you think, but shake it off as a side effect of the slightly cold weather

you turn the corner and just before you can look up - you find yourself head first in someones backpack

sputtering out an apology as you teeter backwards

“hey, are you ok?”

you rub your nose where you’d planted it into their bag and mumble that you’re fine

but when your gaze meets the face the voice is coming from you nearly choke on your word

the boy is tall, with light brown eyes that sparkle like no other humans

his hair is slightly messy, but not enough to make him look bad and he smiles so bright that you think you might have just walked into the sun

he puts a hand out and you squeak because it’s the size of your face as he brushes your cheek

“are you sure you’re ok? do you want to go to the pharmacy so i can get you some ice?”

he asks and you are at such a loss for words that you don’t realize you’re following him to the store

till you’re inside and he’s about to pick out some bandaids

you snap out of it, finding your voice and going

“o-oh it’s ok. really-”

he turns again and you fluster at how deep his gaze can be

“i don’t mind the money, if you’re hurt i should-”

“no! no really im ok,,,,,”

he straightens back up and looks around for a moment, then claps his hands together like he’s thought of something brilliant

“wait here a sec”

he asks and you don’t know why you’re listening to a stranger - but you do as your told

only for him to return back a few minutes later and reveal a fluffy white bear from behind his back

it’s one of those valentines day bears, that come with a little rose and a candy bar

you feel your face heat up and again you don’t know what to say

you touch the bear and open the little card attached to its ear

to your surprise it says your name, and what you can only assume is the boys

“y-yukhei? is that your name?”

you look up and the boy nods

“yep! and i did spell your name right,,,,,,,,i hope,,,,,ten always says im a bit of a clutz with names so -”

he leans over and he’s so close you can smell the faint scent of what seems like flowers on him

you feel all embarrassed again, not sure what to say or do 

but yukhei doesn’t seem like he means anything else but the best 

and when you catch one of the pharmacy employees giggling out of the corner of your eye

whispering to a co-worker “look at that, another cute couple!”

you think you might just fall over, all the while yukhei reminds himself to get ten back for shooting him with that arrow

even though,,,,he’s not all that mad about it anyway,,,,, 

[xcherry-popx]

also!! I love you and your ideas

white king 1/black knight 2 (houdini/persephone)

   Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa

probably persephone! she usually corrects herself, but sometimes when she’s stressed she’ll just keep trying the same thingi think houdini would end up opening doors more often, since persephone prefers to walk behind people. neither of them like having someone behind them, but houdini is better at hiding itonce they start to trust each other fully, they walk side by side!

   Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them

both of them are a bit too reserved to do that. but if you catch houdini alone, you might find him casting illusions of beautiful art and ocean landscapes coated with the same purple netting that appears when he makes something persephone can see.

   Who starts the tickle fights

houdini tried, once. he did it with his friend once, as a kid. so when he uses his illusions to help him sneak up on persephone, he thought it would be fun for the both of them.

persephone screamed and lashed out at houdini before melting into a panic attack. it took an hour for her to calm down. houdini doesn’t try to sneak up on her again, and asks before touching her.

eventually, they become comfortable with each other. persephone is the one who suggests a “tickle battle”. no magic or other advantages. they both hide around the house and search and find each other, and if they can tickle the other for ten seconds they score a point

once they reached 36-36, they decide it’s a draw

   Who starts the pillow fights

persephone would! houdini never really knew what a pillow fight was, so he was very confused the first time it happened.

   Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile

i think at first, neither sleep much between nightmares and with houdini never trusting anybody this much before, and with persephone only falling asleep with a (rather abusive) ex boyfriend, they end up talking all night long instead.however, once they trust each other more, houdini starts to fall asleep first. while persephone can’t watch him, technically, she can feel his soft breathing and trace the shape of his face, and thats enough for her to feel content, wondering how she got so lucky. when she does drift off, her arms are wrapped around houdini tightly.

   Who mistakes salt for sugar

they both might! unless it’s in a container (sugar doesn’t normally come in salt shakers!) neither of them will know which is which unless they set it down. persephone is another one with messed up taste buds, since she lost a lot of her senses after being reanimated so many times (most notably, she can’t see, she can’t feel most pain, she can’t smell, and she can’t hear out of one ear). however, houdini didn’t get to eat much sugar as a kid, considering at first it was withheld unless he was good and then he was too poor too eat it.

all in all, this probably doesn’t happen very often. they’ve got sugar cubes and salt shakers and those are hard to mix up.

   Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1am in the morning

probably persephone. she can’t see the timer, so she only knows its done when it goes off. houdini is a light sleeper though, so persephone probably doesnt microwave things when it might wake him.

   Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines

houdini would…. he’d spend hours trying to think up a pun and illusion to go together. he’d cast the illusion over himself within the mind, so even though persephone can’t use her eyes she can still see exactly what dumb face houdini is making

   Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order

i think persephone would, mainly because while houdini only bothers with minimal organization, persephone thrives off knowing exactly where everything is. she got all her books with braille organized easily, but it took a few hours to trace over and figure out exactly what each letter in her older books say

   Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies

both of them, to the point they eat up all the batter and can’t make any actual brownies. persephone pours brownie powder in her mouth and almost coughs it all back on the floor. then houdini shows her that the best time is when the liquid and dry ingredients have just been added so its liquid chocolaty, but its not fully mixed so there’s still bubbles of powder

   Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion

honestly? they’d buy them together. they’ve learned that the flowery herbal scents cause houdini to freak out (when he was becoming a court magician, they used those scents, and now he can’t stand them). meanwhile, persephone insists that the type of wax is important since it contributes to the feel (houdini agrees) and the brightness of the flame (houdini argues no)they eventually settle on 

   Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen

houdini. he’d do it all the time. they’ve figured out which brand of pen glides the most smoothly while still inking well. persephone likes the sensation but has to be reminded not to rub at the pen until it dries because the instant she feels something sticky she’ll put it in her mouth to get rid of it

   Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation

houdini is not used to being able to own as much as he can store in his house rather one bag of stuff, and he’s especially not used to tourist shops (persephone insists he’s the embodiment of every clueless tourist stereotype that has ever existed). 

he can just…. go places? and for a little bit of money, they’ll give him a memento of his time there? holy shit….

he’s filled both the kitchen fridge, the drink fridge, the garage freezer, and the back up fridge with magnets. they don’t even put any papers up. its just a bunch of magnets.

white knight 1 gifted them a wall sized magnet board and some alphabet magnets. for now, houdini refuses to put any collected magnets on that board because “it’s for alphabet and store-bought magnets only!” persephone has an ace up her sleeve in case the fridges can longer hold any magnets (you did buy these magnets from a store.) considering the drink fridge can no longer be opened without magnets falling, the time to use that ace is on its way

   Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines

houdini does. he’ll start reading questions out loud and persephone will have no idea why until he starts reading the result.

   bonus: what nicknames do they call each other?

neither of them are very keen on nicknames

houdini calls persephone things like “warrior” sometimes. he especially calls her “goddess” when he’s teasing her. he thinks nicknames are kinda silly,

[neiablackwood]

Light

mentions: @savianblackwood

Why shouldn’t they help themselves, after the way they’d been treated? How the world had treated them? How the dice of misfortune had landed? Why not? Neia smiled to herself as she stroked the fur of her strangely, faithful, cat companion. The black cat purred in her arms, eyes lazily closed, as Neia held her eyes on a pair of sleek daggers.

           Set side-by-side, one dagger was on full display shinning with silvery, smooth metal; artwork in itself, not a single dent or imperfection in the metal working. The hilt of the weapon was a deep, azure blue mixed with black outlines that gave it a nighttime blue feel; the guard was fashion with two silver birds heads with long beaks and fierce looking eyes, while the pommel was circularly, like a pendant, with two birds circling a blue stone set in the middle.

           Yes, why couldn’t she help herself? No one would miss these daggers, plus, they were more interesting too look at then Savian’s daggers he seemed to prize. It was time for an upgrade, she thought, glazing her eyes leisurely to the front door.

           Slowly, she sighed and closed her eyes.

The sea breeze caught little strands of her hair brushing them against her face, her mind relaxed, her thoughts calming before melting entirely away to nothing.

           When she opened her eyes, she was no longer staring at the beautiful daggers, but instead the walk-way along the canal road. Absently, she stroked the dark fur of the cat and pushed her legs forward.

           “I’m not even a thief,” she whispered to herself, “How would I even manage to get them? Teleport them to my very hands?” She snorted with amusement, but felt her heart twist; this was the third time, and the reasonings were growing more and more personal.

           What am I turning into?

           Neia carried herself down a flight of stairs, pass a shade of trees, and into a mix of flowery and salty smells. The roaring of waves and cries of seagulls lifted the foggy veil over her eyes, taking in the warmth of the sunlight. She sat down on one of the benches, with one more easy breath, before loosening her grip on her companion.

           The cat perked up, flicked its ears, and with a stretch and a flick of its tail, jumped out of her lap and trotted away, along the path, smoothly avoiding a passing guard.

           “I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be young again,” a voice flickered in her ears and with a startled jump, she looked towards her right. A purple skin elf, a void elf, was standing only a mere four feet away. “I think I’d rather keep it that way,” he added. The elf lips turned into an impish smile.

           Flabbergasted, Neia stared with little thought other than who he might be. A friend? Someone she knew? An old customer?

The elf slid into the spot beside her, too close for her own comfort as she scooted towards the other edge of the stone bench. The elf spoke no more, though his eyes seemed to be consumed with the waterfall’s ahead, his eyes lingered on the corners, on her.

Her eyes laid coldly on. What does he want?

           He was dressed in aqua blue, forest green, robes, and on those robes he had an interesting, hand drawn pin attached at the chest; something that crudely looked like a child drawing of flower petals. His hair had the traditional touch of void, and despite the prickly feeling that vibrated from him, he seemed altogether put together. Not unlike a few void elves she had seen pass by.

           There’s something familiar about him, she thought as she slowly turned her head away. Others seemed to give them, her, little mind. Some people lingered around stone statues, others around a small merchant table showcasing small paintings and woven bracelets, and then there were the private personal gatherings.

           “Did you get what I mean?” the elf’s voice bubbled up, not all to rudely, but an edge that sent her back tense.

           She frowned, keeping her gaze away from him. “No,” she said softly.

           “It means,” the elf said, his voice rising in pitch, “That you look like the whole world is coming undone around you. Its not really, you know. Simply a passing of time with a few bumps in the road, but it isn’t coming down around you. No. It never does.”

“For instance, you could wake up in the middle of the night and find your lights aren’t working! Why, you may ask yourself? You don’t know. But alas, there must be a reason, yet it’s too dark to see. So, you try flicking the switch a little more, nothing happens. Then you rummage through the dark room hoping to find that little candle or light you store for emergency, but its not where you left it! Now how are you going to see the path to the door so you can to the bathroom? You think about calling out, but you figure everyone else is asleep. Surely it feels like the you might be in deep trouble. So instead of bothering others, or searching through the dark and fearing your will get yourself more lost, you crawl back into bed and hope the sunlight comes soon. But you know, sometimes the answer is as simple as screwing the light a little tighter. Did you ever think that might be the issue?”

           She looked back, taken off guard by the elf’s ramblings, the strange dance of his words.

The elf was looking down now, at the pin on his robe, fidgeting with it.

She stared at him a little longer. “No. I’m sorry, but I think you should go bother someone else. I’m busy.”

           “Ah yes,” the elf’s eyes rose sharply. “I’d forgotten about the lack of prudence as well. Please, remind me some more of the faults of the youth? It will help me better teach those around me when I forced to give a lesson again. Tell me, where did you get lost?”

           She scowled at him. Is he making fun of me? “I think I’ll keep that to myself, thank you.” She flicked her head away, letting strands of hair fly behind her as she did. “You should leave before I decide to call the guards for harassing me.”

           The elf chuckled. “A shame,” he said sounding like he was speaking to himself. Then he rose, shuffled his feet for a moment, before she heard his retreating steps.

Only when the lingering aura vanished did she look back. The elf was already back upon the streets, joining the crowd, and vanishing from sight.

           She let out a slow sigh and closed her eyes. What was he on? Probably some old cougar looking for a friend for the night. She shook her head, letting her fingers comb through her hair, as her eyes fall on the flowers and the people. No one seemed to care what had just taken place.  

[yastaghr]

Carried Skeleton 6

A new chapter of Carried Skeleton is up! 

Warning: temporary major character death (resets)

You can find it on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443730/chapters/46169512

Or you can find it below the cut.

Sans startled awake from the depths of a bad dream. Someone had been talking to him, someone wise and important and big. It wasn’t Asgore, but the feeling was similar. It had been a nice feeling, but then something had happened. The person talking to him had been pulled away, far away, and then they were swallowed by a cold, inky darkness that moved almost like jello. It was terrifying. The small skeleton looked around desperately, trying to find that void that had taken his-

“SANS!”

He jumped up and raced over to the door to his room. That sounded like Pap, and if Sans didn’t respond in less than a minute, Papyrus would come into his room. Being a medically frail brother of a monster who constantly worried about you was hard.Sans stuck his head out of the door and said, “yeah, bro?”

“I'M GOING TO PICK UP SOME MORE OF YOUR SMOOTHIES. WHAT FLAVORS DO YOU WANT?”

Oh. Another RESET. Sans wondered what had triggered this one. Everything had seemed to be working out fine. Well, he’d better not ask for strawberry this time. What was it he usually asked for?

“can i have some tomato ones?”

Papyrus’ familiar sigh was music to his nonexistent ears. Finally things were back to normal.“SANS, I AM POSITIVELY CERTAIN THOSE KETCHUP “SMOOTHIES” ARE NOT GOOD FOR YOU. THEY HAVE FAR TOO MUCH SUGAR!”

Sans snickered. “aw, but i’m positively sweet on them.”

His brother groaned and Sans grinned. This was more like it. Papyrus might play at hating them, but Sans knew he secretly loved when Sans made puns. He even made the occasional one himself, and they were always better than Sans’. Then again, Pap was older, so he’d had more time to practice.

“I AM GOING. TO GO. TO THE STORE. AND YOU WILL GET NO KETCHUP.”

“aw, bro,” Sans complained, knowing it was useless but used to blindly following the script, “how else am i going to ketchup with my favorite flavor?”

The slam of the front door was Sans’ only answer. He relaxed. Now he could take his time and rela-

Vines wrapped around him, cocooning him, trapping him. Sans screamed, but just as he did, his voice spell gave out. He clawed at the vines, trying to free himself. It was no use. The hold he was in was tightening. Soon he was curled up in a fetal position with vines pressing in on all sides. Then a familiar, flowery face poked into the ball right in front of his face. The expression on Flowey’s face was almost manic; manic tinged with hate. Flowey said in a sing-song voice like a schoolyard bully, “You’ve been taking up too much of his attention. I want all of Papyrus’ attention, so you’ll have to go. It’s too bad you won’t remember any of this, because I really want to know if dying is a universal feeling. Oh well.”

Sans wouldn’t have even had a chance to scream before the vines pressed in on him again, crushing and cracking and breaking and...Cold, inky darkness swallowed him whole.

Banners hung around the living room, each one of them painted with the birthday wishes of a different school in the Underground. Presents were stacked all around the edges of the room; the piles reached so high that the ceiling almost touched them. A brand new kaftan in Chara’s favorite colors was laid across the stuffed chair. A giant cake was in the center of the table. It was dark chocolate with chocolate ganache and a sculpted peacock stood on top.

 Standing in the doorway, staring at all the fanfare with wide eyes and shaking hands, was Chara. Their eyes kept darting between all the things like they were going to attack them.The four other members of Chara’s family stood in the center of it all. They’re huge grins were slowly fading in the face of Chara’s confusion and fear.

 “Why did you all do this for me?” Chara asked, clearly upset. “I like our normal, quiet birthday celebrations. This...this is too much!”

Toriel said, quietly, “Papyrus found a video in the dump. We watched it to make sure that it was appropriate for you children. There was a part of it that said that humans make a big deal of 21st birthday parties. We wanted you to have that experience. Was that wrong?”

Chara sighed and wiped their face. “It’s just the age when humans in the country up above can finally drink alcohol. They usually go out and get roaring drunk, then throw up all the next day.”

All the monsters except Sans looked shocked. He was too busy trying to free himself from Asgore’s hold. Lately he had been wanting to hug on Chara’s leg all the time. Everyone thought it was cute. 

Toriel spoke her feelings, “No! You are far too young to have alcohol in your system. The law here is that you have to be at least 150 to try alcohol. Having it before then can cause irreparable damage to your soul.”

Both groups looked at each other with squinted eyes and twisted heads. There was such a huge gap in culture here it was ridiculous.

 “I...okay,” Chara said. They didn’t want to deal with the whole ‘I’m probably only going to live until I’m around 80’ business. It was just...Chara didn’t want to know what their parents would do when they learned that. As nice as they are...Chara didn’t want to make them mad. “Can I have hot chocolate instead?”

Grins spread over every face in the room. Things were back to normal. “Of course, my child. Do you want the colourful little marshmallows, too?”

Chara nodded, walking over and scooping Sans up to rock in their arms. “I’d love that. Then we can start opening all these presents. What did you do, ask the entire Underground if they wanted to give me something?”

Asgore looked sheepish as he stood up and motioned to the banners. “We did. The children helped decorate these for you, and the rest are presents from almost every family in the Underground. They really care about you, even the ones who’ve never met you. You give them hope. Hope that, one day, we can all stand under the sun again in peace.”

Chara did what they usually did when Dad said things like that, which was to ignore it. Instead, she started tickling Sans and making him laugh. It was such a wonderful sound. Chara couldn’t imagine a world without it. 

[chille-tid-universe]

Grassroots Heroes for Hire

The mayor looked up from the writ. “And you are the subject of this voucher?” He glanced from the half-elf with her supple cloak and curious longbow slung across her back at the head of the group to its other members; a young woman with twigs in her hair, armor that seemed too big, and an assortment of large weapons; a stocky dwarf with a dour expression and an axe that glowed with unnatural light; a youth with chestnut-brown skin, barely more than a boy, holding a large book that looked like it belonged in a museum, in a robe that he might have stolen from someone with fuller shoulders; a foppy young man with a bored look and impeccable eyeliner, carrying a shield and some foreign fetish; a terrifying young tiefling whose snow-white robes and holy symbol were completely at odds with her horns and ashen skin; and most startling of all, a damned half-orc (a half-orc, in his town!) with a wide hat, salt-stained overcoat, and two sharp blades swinging from her hips. This last one stood in the corner, leaning against the wall, as if she at least had the courtesy to recognize exactly how poor in taste this meeting was.

Robyn cleared her throat and swept her eyes over her little band of misfits, glaring at Charlot to straighten up and at Nula to join the rest of the party. “Yes, your mayor-ly-ness. The duke of Hartfordshire was quite satisfied with our assistance rescuing his daughter. We even saved most of her caravan, as well. Well, most of them who weren’t killed by the time we found them, that is.”

“Indeed.” The mayor’s eyes lowered to the parchment again. Everything certainly appeared to be in place, at the very least. He had never met this duke, but he knew from several books in his meager library that Hartfordshire was indeed a neighboring town to the east of his own, as much as “neighboring” could be used to describe any locations in these lands. Still - he glanced back up at the assortment before him - this lot hardly had the look of heroes. Some of them looked to be barely old enough to be on their own! He couldn’t begin to guess at the half-orc’s or dwarf’s ages, but the rest looked like they should be helping out on their parents’ farms right now. The only people who stood with any sort of authority were their half-elf leader, who at least seemed old enough to marry, and the strange boy with the dark symbol, who reminded the mayor of the pouty prince who had rolled through the town when he himself was just a boy. This young man exuded that same air of boredom, as if the surrounding world existed to entertain him and it was doing quite a poor job of it. That prince had been quite a pest, from what the mayor recalled.

It was the odd girl wearing a tree on her head that stepped forward, smoothly admitting, “We know we don’t look like much, sir, but we’ve heard from your citizens that there have been other adventurers sent after your problem, to no avail. Surely it couldn’t hurt to send a few more?” The mayor found himself nodding to Isolde’s suggestion. His citizens, he liked the sound of that. What could it hurt, indeed?

The mayor nodded more deliberately. “Very well, I suppose the voucher says what it says, and we’d be happy to have your assistance. The mine is a couple hours’ travel to the south.” He made to return to the papers scattered about his desk, but a slim hand quickly poked into his line of sight.

Robyn cleared her throat again. “There’s just the matter of payment…”

~~

The band traveled down the southern road with a spring in their step. The mayor had not been keen on paying half upfront, and Nula had needed to lean over his pretty wooden desk and begin cleaning her nails with her dagger before he would reconsider and offer them twenty-five percent before and the rest when they returned with proof the mines had been cleared. Twenty-five percent! Robyn could almost sing. They were certainly on their way; before long, their reputation would precede them up and down the Sword Coast, and perhaps they would even start being recognized in the cities they visited!

Not that Robyn would allow them to venture into a city quite yet; Nula’s bar-fueled argument in their last city had been quite eventful, and Charlot had warned the group that the guards were sure to spread word of the temperamental half-orc pirate-ess and her strange companions to every city on the continent. Robyn felt certain he had been joking, but was unwilling to test it, not before the gang had worked up a level of professionalism that would help to offset the looks of confusion and distrust that greeted them wherever they went.

And this sleepy little hamlet with its classic woes of kobold infested mines were a perfect step along that path. Robyn hummed a little tune as they marched, her left hand upon the flank of their trusty pony. She had taken to calling him Eye-gak, after she overheard Oskar murmuring it to the beast in a town months back. It was a quirky sort of name, but she felt it fit well with what the team had going on. Across Eye-gak’s saddle was a handy portable chest, nothing too ostentatious, just a locked box for them to store their meager riches and the documents they managed to weasel out of their previous employers, vouching for their reliability to their future hopefuls.

Ahead of her, Charlot and Uzza were arguing again. For clerics of the grave and life domains, Robyn supposed she should be happy their discussions were rarely confrontational. At the moment, however, Charlot was trying to convince Uzza that he could render her more palatable in the loftier company they would surely find themselves in before long.

“I’m not saying that tieflings are unheard of in the proper ranks of society, dear, I’m simply saying that you present an odd blend of ideas, and it can be better to go along with what people expect of you than force them to face their own bigotry.”

Uzza bristled as she turned to the boy. “I’m not interested in how your nobles see me, Charlot. I spent my childhood begging for scraps. I won’t demean myself again, not to be subjected to the worldviews of those who think themselves above me. Especially not to appease the normalcy of people with more gold than I’ve ever seen!”

Charlot raised his hands in defense. “Not everyone with wealth is the enemy, Uzza.” He smiled wide and wrapped an arm around her. “Fear not, Charlot will guide you through the scary halls of the rich. Perhaps just a light foundation to even out your skin tone, maybe a nice flowery headband to cover those horns…” Uzza groaned, but Robyn saw her mouth quirk in a smile.

Behind her, Robyn heard Idu going on about his many misadventures as a youth on the streets of Amn (truth be told, Robyn felt Idu still qualified as a youth, but she would never say as much to his face). As always, Oskar clung to every word from the younger boy; Oskar had spent most of his life in the mines of his home, and often found the workings of “above-ground” civilization fascinating. Idu clearly picked up on this an embellished from time to time. Robyn suspected he had run out of factual stories early on, but she had to admit the boy had imagination. As he described a flight from a particularly nasty street-guard, using nothing but the friendship of a wild monkey, his free arm swept in wild arcs. Idu always clutched that fancy book close to his chest, as if he were afraid his wonderful life of traveling would disappear if he let it slip for a single moment. Robyn could sympathize; she oftentimes had to remind herself that all this was real, and that she had indeed managed to bring together such an amazing group with whom to spend her days.

Beside Oskar, Isolde nodded along to the story, gasping at all the right moments and asking the questions Idu was clearly fishing for. Isolde had explained to Robyn when she first joined the gang that they were a lovely example of the balance the paladin wished to instill in the world around her; Robyn sometimes questioned the balance of the team, but was thankful for the comparison. The girl’s hint of a smile and perpetual far-gazing eyes lead many to assume she was none too bright, but Isolde always managed to ask precisely the right question in the most flattering tone to further the party’s interests. She had been quite instrumental in obtaining several of their recent jobs.

As Idu reached the end of his story (with a flourish had Oskar nodding and Isolde politely clapping) Nula snorted and sauntered over to the three, sliding a blade along a whetstone as she grumbled, “Nice story, Books, must’a been real hard running from a fat old man. Ever run… from a kraken?” Idu’s eyes brightened visibly. If Oskar enjoyed Idu’s tales, Idu lived for the yarns the half-orc would spin. “There I was, lookout in the middle o’ the night, naught but a sliver of moon to light the frosty waters o’ the Sword Coast. The crew lay a’bed below decks, a senile ol’ lubber tending the wheel, when I hear a deep rumblin’, like a thousand bellies cryin’ for gruel…”

Robyn chuckled as she listened. She knew Nula was not much older than her companions, but her size and confidence made that easy to forget. Like Idu, Robyn suspected that many of Nula’s tales were far from the truth, but it was much harder to pick fact from fiction with the half-orc.

Nula was just getting to the part where a writhing tentacle, cut from the monster, knocks the captain overboard when Charlot stopped in his tracks, head tilted to the side. It took a moment for the storytellers to notice, and then they slowed to a stop, as well. “Hear that?” the boy asked, eyes scanning the skies above them. Robyn strained her ears a moment, and was about to ask “What?” when Isolde pointed to the east. As Robyn followed her finger and saw a cluster of specks growing larger, she heard an unearthly melody fill the trees around them.

“Harpies,” Nula growled, tucking her whetstone into her belt and drawing her other sword. “Looks like a small group, three, four.”

Robyn nodded, deftly sliding her longbow from her shoulder and reaching for an arrow. “Ready yourselves,” she called, nocking and drawing the arrow. The party fell into position easily, with a familiarity that would have had Robyn smiling under other circumstances. Uzza, Isolde, and Oskar gathered between the others and the approaching shapes, donning shields and reaching for weapons. Oskar flexed his hand, and his trusty battleaxe winked from its holster to his grip.

Charlot and Idu stepped up beside Robyn, with Nula stalking the area around three, leaving herself plenty of room for what she referred to as her “dance o’ death”. Charlot tossed back his hair and fingered his dark talisman, cold power seeping from his fingers as he breathed words of power. Idu flipped open his spellbook deftly, long fingers easily finding the proper worn pages, by earmark or familiar wear, and he held two or three fingers in different places in the book, keeping his place should he need certain spells. Satisfied, the young boy nodded and turned his eyes to the approaching beasts, an excited curiosity tinged with cautious fear twinking there.

Robyn slowed her breathing as the harpies gained definition. Before long, they had entered the range of her longbow, and with a practiced focus the half-elf let fly her first arrow. Before it had struck its target Robyn had fitted another into the nock, and as she pulled the string back to the corner of her mouth, she saw with satisfaction that one of the three shapes had fallen significantly below its friends. She aimed at the lower harpy and fired again, and by the time she had fitted her third arrow, the harpies had arrived.

As they swooped down past the trees, their tempting melody reached a crescendo, and Robyn found herself screwing her fingers into her ears. A moment passed, and then she looked around to see the harpies landing among the group. She noted that Oskar and Nula were the only people who appeared to be affected by the siren’s song of the harpies, and the rest of her band were already reacting.

Uzza gripped her holy symbol and gestured at herself, Oskar, and Nula, chanting in a strange tongue until a faint aura began to glow around the three. Oskar and Nula both grunted a moment later, shaking their heads and jumping upon the nearest harpy.

Isolde’s twig-crown glowed a verdant green, and she struck at the harpy approaching her, thick vines erupting from the ground at the beast’s claws to grip her tightly. Idu took this as a cue, and pointed ominously at the trapped harpy, summoning a skeletal claw that gently passed through the beast’s ribcage, causing part of the melody to turn to shrieks of pain.

Nula directed her twirling blades at the harpy that had snared her attention. With a cry of “Avast, ye!” the half-orc darted around the harpy, slicing this way and that before pulling away with a grin, deftly avoiding a slicing talon as she stepped outside the harpy’s range. Charlot took a breath and held his hand out at the harpy, pantomiming swinging something large, and a second later a deep, ominous DOOM DOOM DOOM filled the air around the wounded harpy. The bell’s tolling almost drowned out the creature’s death wail, and Nula cried out with a loud laugh as the harpy fell still.

Robyn turned her attention to the last harpy, sliding her arm through the longbow while in the same motion she pulled the whip from her belt. She whistled, a piercing sound that had the intended effect of the harpy swiveling its head on an owl-like neck to the half-elf. Robyn smirked and flicked the whip, slashing the side of the harpy’s wing and causing the whip to CRACK as it struck. The beast’s eyes widened at the sound, and Oskar took the opportunity to flourish his glowing battleaxe at the startled harpy, sending a flaming bolt at it to crash between its wings. He then yelled a dwarvish battle cry and darted toward the harpy, swinging his blade down between its shoulder blades and sending it to the ground.

That left one harpy, tangled in vines, with Isolde and Uzza standing on either side of it. Isolde continued to strike from afar with her glaive, her serene face set in grim determination. Uzza closed her eyes and called out, lifting her holy symbol skyward. In response, a pillar of holy flame fell from the heavens, engulfing the screeching harpy and the vines that bound it. As the group gathered around, the charred harpy body crumbled to ash.

Robyn nodded at the group, watching as grins spread across their faces. “Good job, team. Uzza, would you mind seeing to Oskar and Nula? I think the harpies got a few scratches in. Isolde, nice work with the vines. Idu and Charlot, try focusing on the same target next time. But excellent work, everyone!” The party began chatting and laughing, and Robyn went to recover trusty Eye-gak, who had begun grazing at the roots of a nearby tree. She glanced at the sun’s position and looked to the south, seeing the mountains rising there. Still an hour or so to go; still plenty of time. She nodded to herself and began to shepherd the excited comrades, urging them to continue their march.

~~

The group quietly made their way down the dark corridors of the mine. Their talk had diminished as they stepped into the mouth of the cave system, their voices echoing along the walls before Robyn hushed them. Now, they marched down the main passage, torches scattered among the group, while Uzza kept a sharp eye out ahead. Robyn held her longbow aloft as they walked, elegant silver runes flickering across the arms in the near-darkness of the mine. They had been traveling down the mines for less than an hour when Uzza stalked back to them, her snowy robes luminescent in the torchlight.

“Kobolds,” she hissed when she got closer. “Off to the left, a hundred feet further.” Robyn motioned for the group to prepare themselves. A minute later, they had doused their torches and gripped arms, walking as quietly as they could manage with Oskar and Uzza leading the way. A minute later, a series of squeezed palms indicated they were approaching the entrance that Uzza had spied, and the blinded members of the party saw a faint glow up ahead. They waited outside the branched passage, barely able to see each others’ faces, until Robyn whispered, “Now!”

All at once, Oskar and Charlot jumped into the opening, raising their hands as blips of light sparked into life around the cavernous room. Idu stepped out from behind them and took quick assessment of the situation, then gripped a small bag from his cloak and muttered a few words. A miniature sun burst into existence among the thickest concentration of kobolds, who screeched and scrabbled at the rocky ground to pull themselves away. Idu swept his hand in front of him, and the burning sphere began to ominously cross the room, incinerating the scaly hides it collided with.

Now fully able to see, the rest of the party darted into the room, whip, glaive, and swords eager for purchase as the frenzied kobolds attempted to avoid the flaming death-ball and the new enemies. A group of braver kobolds began to swarm the party, some waving their arms and gibbering while the rest darted in and out, poking with makeshift weaponry.

Isolde kept the kobolds at bay with her glaive, waving it back and forth as they tried to approach her, and soon the frustrated kobolds turned to the half-orc who was laughing as her blades left crimson afterimages in the magical light. Robyn used her whip to discourage the kobolds who were attempting to flank the party, forcing them to choose between approaching the heavily armored frontline or the slow advance of Idu’s flaming sphere.

The slaughter lasted barely a minute, and as the sounds of dying kobolds quieted, Uzza saw a flicker of movement across the room. A small cluster of kobolds were fidgeting with a pile of rocks in a corner before one of them seemingly disappeared. Uzza called out to the group and raised her holy symbol, causing an illuminated gout of flame to crash down on the spot of the remaining kobolds. One fell over, dying noisily, while the other yelped and dove headfirst into the rocks, scorched backside trailing smoke. The rushed escape dislodged the larger rocks, and part of the wall sunk in on itself, revealing a tight passage out of the room.

The group turned to Nula, who grunted, “Figures,” as she removed her hat and rolled it carefully. “Alright, let’s follow the scallywags.”

~~

Luckily for the half-orc, the secret tunnel widened to more spacious dimensions several feet in. The kobold had scurried on ahead, and Robyn reminded everyone as they walked on in the dim light of a weakened light spell that they should expect a fight when they reached the end of the passage.

When the tunnel began to widen enough for them to adjust their order, Oskar took the lead. There was a sharp turn, and then the party found itself face to face with a group of orc warriors. Oskar raised his shield and chanted for a moment, a golden aegis illuminating the air around him as arrows flew through the air. Most were deflected, and Uzza was quick to press her hands to the resulting wounds and murmur words of healing. By that time, Nula and Isolde had jumped out of the tunnel and rushed the orcs.

Idu and Charlot stuck behind Oskar, nodding to each other and directing their spells at the furthest orc archer. Robyn stepped to the side and steadied her longbow, focusing on its innate power as she fitted her arrow. Silvery runes flowed across the surface of the bow and into the arrow, lighting it with traces of moonbeams. The shining arrow flew across the chamber to the orcs, a brilliant afterimage tracing its path. As battle was joined, a rumbling came from another entrance to the room, and Charlot’s head snapped around, calling out, “Undead!” seconds before a mangled group of dead kobolds shambled into view. Some were missing limbs, others had crushed skulls, but all moved steadily toward the party. At their rear, a larger orc strode, eyes aglow with dark power, hands reaching out to the zombified minions.

Charlot and Uzza caught each other’s eyes and both ran to the approaching horde, Charlot lifting his dark talisman while Uzza clutched her holy symbol. Both began a similar chant with vastly different inflections, and as one their voices rose in volume. The combination of holy and unholy power swept forward over the marching corpses, and a majority of the bodies shuddered and began to fall back, mouths vocalizing frightened grunts if they worked at all. The orcish shaman growled with displeasure, cuffing one of her turned minions across its collapsed face as it ran by, sending it crumpling to the floor. The shaman turned to the clerics and narrowed her eyes, lifting a gnarled finger to the tiefling. As Uzza’s back arched in pain, an arrow went soaring past the two and embedded itself squarely in the shaman’s chest. Sensing the seepage of the orc’s life force, Charlot smiled and swung his hand out, an echo of bells filling the room as the shaman fell to her knees. Uzza smiled at the boy in thanks, then grimaced as she turned to the foul necromancer. She felt divine might pass through her as she lifted her symbol aloft, and a moment later the orc was engulfed in holy fire.

In the resulting frenzy, wizards and clerics alike picked off the scrambling zombies, while fighters and paladins and pirates took out the remaining orcs. When there was one orc left standing (apart from Nula), the pirate held her blades to his throat. “What were you after down here, ya lubber?” she growled. The orc spat at her feet.

“I answer to no traitor,” he grunted in broken Common. “Found holy site for shaman, born again soon! You pay then!”

He then threw himself at Nula, but simply fell upon her swords. She cleaned them on his shirt and turned to shrug at Robyn. “Worth a shot.” The half-elf nodded in understanding and motioned to Oskar and Uzza. The two headed down the passage the shaman had emerged from.

As they walked down the dark corridor, they heard the grave-moans of the undead that had escaped the slaughter in the previous room. As they came upon the aimless bodies, the two dispatched of them with mystical flame and ensorcelled axe. After a few twists and turns, the passage ended with a foul chamber littered with skeletons, and a sickly slab of granite posing as an altar. It was there that they found cruel instruments and implements of torture, along with crudely written notes and several chalices of liquid that resembled blood. In one corner, a pile of clothes and trinkets were tossed unceremoniously.

Once the rest of the party had been summoned to the final chamber, Idu glanced around and immediately came to a conclusion. “Looks like this is where that shaman was raising her dead,” he remarked, gingerly leafing through the notes, which appeared to have been written on dried, leathery skin. “The rest of the tools here seem a bit superfluous, though the altar does appear to be some sort of locus for necromantic power.”

“Any way you can shut it off?” Robyn asked, not particularly hopefully. When Idu shook his head after a moment’s thought, she continued, “I suppose that was a bit optimistic. Oskar, reckon you can cave in this room?”

While the dwarf silently paced the length of the room, pressing his hand against the wall in certain spots and mumbling to himself, the party did its own search of the room. As Isolde was digging through what were assumedly the miners’ belongings, she let out a gasp and held up a wooden medallion. “An oak medallion! My mentor told me about these. Woodland elves are known to carry these with them as they travel, to always have a piece of their home with them.”

Nula bent down to examine the talisman. “It’s made from the wood of their homes?” she asked, squinting at the carved insignia of a wide tree.

Isolde snatched the medallion away from the half-orc. “No, it summons a tree.” Nula back away, wary of the narrow walls surrounding them.

After Oskar had finished his circuit, he grunted in affirmation and turned to Idu. “Could you shatter these two points?” He pointed to an area of the ceiling and a section of wall that appeared to already be crumbling.

Idu glanced down at his spellbook and nodded. The party retreated further down the passage and waited as Idu sat cross-legged on the damp rock floor and opened his spellbook in front of him. Several minutes of preparation and chanting later, Idu jabbed from the spellbook to the chamber, uttering a binding word and releasing the spells. Two loud cracks rang out from the chamber, and a torrent of boulders fell from above, splitting the altar and filling in the skeleton-strewn room. As Oskar had intended, there was no spillage into the corridor.

~~

Spirits were high as the party emerged from the dank caves into the setting sunlight. It would be full dark by the time the party made it back to the village, but Robyn was eager to return and report their success to that doubting mayor. The gold was certainly welcome, but Robyn thrived off of the looks of astonishment her team invariably earned as they proved their worth. Today the mayors and innkeepers of the realm learned to expect great things from them, but perhaps tomorrow it would be kings and queens who granted them vast boons for completing daring quests. Robyn knew it was only a matter of time.

[katsukiboom]

Didn't know if you need this again. Your chubby! Reader stuff is so cute! I was wondering if you could do a chubby!Reader x Fatgum? Something like Fatgum saves the reader and thinks there cute but brushed it off because he thinks he will never see them again. But he keeps running into them in both his hero and normal form and now he's kinda falling for them? Just kissing and groping would be nice, if you want to do more you can. Extra points if Kirishima and Tamaki are mentioned~

Oh God, this actually took days to finish, it’s 3 am and I need to get up in like 4 hours but I needed to finish this, I was inspired lol this turned out a bit too long (+2,800, one of my longest), so I hope you enjoy it anyways! It was my first request ever with Fatgum, and I’m so happy I got it too, I hope I wrote him right and did him justice

Taishiro was sure you were just another one of the crowd, someone else he had saved from a most likely terrible fate.

He was sure of it, or he wanted to be at the very least.

Seeing your bright smile and blushing, plump cheeks as he placed you down after rescuing you from the middle of an attack had indeed made his heart jump, but as he returned the gesture and then went back to the fight he quickly forgot about it - it would be one of those ‘meeting-someone-cute-but-never-seeing-them-again’ scenarios, one that often appeared in clichéd romantic movies, and he was sure it would be the same for this situation.

Except that, after a few days, he ran into you again, this time as a civilian. You were just walking along the street, checking some stores out when he caught a glimpse of you, recognizing you almost immediately; you were clad in some cream-coloured pants with a white shirt and white sneakers, and he couldn’t help but think you looked like the cutest marshmallow he had ever seen, a bright blush appearing on his face as he watched you from afar, the clothes hugging you in all the right places and your form moving graciously through the crowd. You were even cuter, that was sure, and he couldn’t help but regret he wasn’t in his hero form as that would’ve made you notice him faster.

But why did he want to be noticed by you so badly?

He didn’t understand it very well until the next time he was out with his proteges, all three of them in their hero outfits just walking down the street and casually chatting about training when Taishiro looked up as he tried to stay away from people’s way, noticing a familiar face through the crowd. “Is something the matter?” Kirishima asked from beside him, bringing him out of his train of thought when noticing his mentor was acting a bit off, his expression showing a bit of worry that made Taishiro smile.

“Nothin’,” he replied at the boy, “was just admirin’ the view.”

And that was the first time he felt his heart race so fast as you looked around and caught a glimpse of him, your face immediately lighting up as you walked fast towards where you were standing. Unaware even of his own situation, he watched as you reached his side, both Amajiki and Kirishima looking at you with confusion. “Fatgum-san!” you exclaimed with joy as you bowed as a greeting. “I’m so glad to see you again; I was wondering if I’d ever get to thank you properly for saving me the other day, but I didn’t think the opportunity would come so fast.” He couldn’t help but gaze at your lips as you spoke, and he could only hope you didn’t really notice.

“Was nothin’,” he repeats, before hearing the quiet chuckles to his sides. Sending the kids a death glare, he turned back to you with a wide smile, your plump body looking small next to his. “I was wonderin’ if I’d see you again too.”

The blush that tinted your already rosy cheeks was more than enough to make his heart beat faster again underneath all his layers as you looked down with a smile and back to his sidekicks. “I guess that it isn’t a good time to chat right now, you’re busy with work and I shouldn’t be bothering you at all. I just wanted to let you know I’m incredibly thankful and that I hope we get to meet each other again,” you said as you put a hand on your chest and just above your heart, and he wondered if you were feeling the same thing he was - for some reason, he wished you did. You waved goodbye at the three of them and walked off, and he watched you leave with the thought that you were probably right, you’d get to meet again soon.

“So, I’m guessing that was the view you were admiring earlier, eh, Fatgum-san?” Kirishima said once you were out of the group’s sight, earning himself a light slap on the head while he laughed along with Amajiki about the whole situation.

You didn’t come across his way for two whole weeks after that, and Taishiro was starting to get rather anxious as it had become a thing for him to notice you just walking on the streets or minding your own business - he had even started to think it could’ve been some mystery force working between the two of you, but every time the thought appeared in his mind he just pushed it to the back, not believing in such things as written fate for each person, and he just went by his rules, but the image of you never left his head, and he found himself wanting more, more of you.

So this is the thing they call… a crush?

He saw you the very next day he realized he actually saw you in another way than what he had originally thought, and he cursed whatever thing caused you two to keep running into each other. In his normal form, he was sure you wouldn’t recognize him; you were at the park, casually walking with a cute flowery outfit that left your arms and half of your thighs exposed, and he gulped as the idea of running his hands through your soft skin came up in his imagination, although he didn’t let himself go further down the rabbit hole as he felt his whole face burning. Your (h/c) hair was flowing freely, and as you put a loose strand behind your ear he thought that the colour really suited you. It was a cloudy autumn day, but you made it seem like summer so easily for him.

He made sure that you were seated on one of the many benches before approaching you and sitting next to you, and he was sure that if you didn’t recognize him, you’d at least be surprised by his tall, slender body. “Hi,” he said as he looked at you with a bright smile, and when you turned to look up at him with a confused expression he had to hold back a laugh. “Am not sure if you recognize me like this,” he added - he still felt his cheeks red, but he couldn’t help it, how could he when he was in front of the most gorgeous person he had ever met? “The name’s Taishiro, but you might remember me from when I was… rounder.”

You seemed to think about it for a moment, scanning his face and making him feel exposed under your stare before your face adopted a shocked yet happy look. “Fatgum?” you whispered just loud enough for him to listen, and a shiver ran down his spine as he nodded. “I can’t believe we’re meeting like this! I’m very happy to see you, but you look so different like this, in a good way; is it thanks to your Quirk?”

“It is, ma’am.” A proud feeling filled him and he puffed out his chest in reply, but then a single thing crossed his mind, something he had forgotten for so long he felt dumb. He returned to his original position after a moment and he fiddled with his thumbs with a shyness that was foreign to him as he muttered, “Name’s Taishiro - haven’t had the pleasure of knowin’ yar name yet though.” He heard as you breathed in and out, the sounds of the world around you both as quiet as ever, and when you told him he repeated it a few times, his smile growing each time.

“We’re not strangers anymore,” you said with a quiet tone and a laugh, your eyes staring at something in the distance. The sweet perfume you were wearing reached his nose and made his mind go berserk and his body turn to mush as he imagined what it would be like to have you enveloped in his arms and pressed against his body, but he shook his head as if trying to get any more raunchy thoughts out of him. “I still want to be able to thank you properly though, if you let me.”

“How would that be, sugar?”

The nickname had come out of his mouth before he could realize, but he played it off like his heart wasn’t about to burst - he had never used it with anyone so it did feel weird, but it was so oddly fitting to you that he didn’t hesitate, and when the blush on your cheeks deepened he knew you were feeling something as well. “I-I’d like to… invite you for coffee sometime… or something like that.”

Taishiro coughed a bit as your words settled in his mind, and happiness spread all around his being as he accepted and extended a hand for you to shake, your touch gentle and small against his - your eyes lit up as you smiled gently at him and that was more than enough to turn him into mush. He quickly muttered a time and place for the next weekend, trying to get his words out the right way without seeming so eager to see you again. You chatted for a while about random things that included you asking all sorts of questions about him, and he was happy to tell you about his job, how it felt to be a pro-hero, and how he balanced his private life and work. At the end of the day, you exchanged numbers, and that very night he sent the first text of a long chain, his hands shaking as he wrote it.

He found that he felt so at ease with you it was unreal, and at times he even questioned if he hadn’t taken a bit too much trust in the way he could talk to you; it wasn’t over exaggerated, but he feared he might’ve come across as someone in a rush, someone he definitely was not. He wanted to take his sweet time with you, getting to know you both in and out, and he could wait a long time if that’s what you needed.

For the date that Saturday, exactly five days after that encounter, Taishiro tried on five different outfits until he found one he thought you’d find cool: a simple button-up, with black pants and black sneakers - it wasn’t much, but considering he wasn’t exactly taking you to the finest restaurant in town it seemed appropiate. He got to the place fifteen minutes earlier due to a miscalculation, but as he saw you arrive it was as if the wait was just worth the world. He had been intrigued by your form from the very first day but seeing you there, waving as you walked up to him with the cutest smile on your face and a nice, black outfit made his heartbeat pick up fast.

“Taishiro-san! I hope you haven’t been waiting for long,” you said, and the sole mention of his name coming out of your full lips made his knees go weak.

“Nah, just been here for five minutes,” he lied as he reached out and took your hand, leaning down just enough to place a soft kiss on its back. Your face turned bright red but you didn’t look away, which made him blush as well. “We should get in now, the table’s waitin’!” Maybe he had done it accidentally or maybe it was on purpose, he’d never admit it, but he didn’t let go of your hand as he paced slowly to the inside of the place, his grip covering your own hand fully.

The one table he had picked was on the back of the restaurant, fairly hidden from the rest of the customers and quiet enough for you to have a nice evening together, enjoying the food and wine the place had to offer. He was afraid you’d see his appetite as something weird, but as you said nothing after the third plate of takoyaki he ordered he knew everything would be okay. It was his turn to ask about you, about your Quirk, your job, some details about you like if you had any pets or your favourite food and more - when you told him about how you had been picked on in the past due to your appearance, he listened closely and then told you that, to him, you looked just perfect the way you were, that your plumpness only made you look better if anything; it felt a bit corny even for him but he knew he’d have to voice his feelings sooner or later, so he went with the first.

Like that, talking about whatever, the night seemed to pass just like a breeze, quickly. He insisted in paying himself, even if you didn’t want to at first - it was his way to treat you as well, and he felt happy to do so. Taishiro realized dinner had only made him even more excited to spend time with you when it was time for you to leave, and in a moment of desperation and not wanting you to leave he nervously blurted out, “I-I’ll take you home! Y’know… the streets are dangerous at these hours, wouldn’t want anything happenin’ to ya.” Blinking a few times, he watched you as you gave him a confused look, and he bit his lip in anticipation for your reply; he was ready for you to refuse, but when you smiled at the ground and nodded ever so slightly he threw his hands up in the air only to put them down right away, bringing one of them to his nape feeling a bit embarrassed.

Timidly taking your hand in his again, he walked with you in your own pace so that you were not left behind - his hands were stuffed in his pockets as he hesitated if you would want him to hold yours. He would never say it, but he felt so thankful for the opportunity of spending a free night with you, and even if there had been any kind of inconvenience he wouldn’t have changed a single thing about it all. Your place was twenty minutes away by foot, he had thought, and that was more than enough time for him to think about what his next move would be.

Your street was almost empty save for a few people outside a building across the block, chatting happily while drinking a few beers. “Okay, here we are,” you announced as you stopped right at the entrance and turned around to look up at him. “It was supposed to be a night for me to thank you and treat you to dinner but you ended up treating me, it’s not fair at all - how come you’re doing stuff for me ever since we first met?”

He looked at you straight in the eye and earnestly said, “It could be fate.” Those were the four words that made you laugh as you blushed furiously and looked away, but he cupped your face and brought your gaze back to his carefully, leaning down just enough for his breath to hit your face. Underneath that brave facade, he actually was screaming on the inside. “Am not lyin’,” he added, “you’ve been on my mind ever since the first day.” And before you could reply, he closed the distance between the two of you and brought his lips to yours.

The kiss started softly and he felt you stiffen under his touch - he was about to pull away, thinking that he had done something wrong or that the way you felt about him wasn’t the same when he felt your arms snaking around his big waist, and then he became a bit more eager. His hands travelled down your sides and back up, feeling every curve that created you, but as he bit your lower lip tenderly you let out a faint moan, your mouth opening just enough to grant him access. Your tongues danced with one another as he picked you up off the ground, your legs instantly wrapping around him as he held you in place with just one hand, the other one squeezing your plump thighs with such enthusiasm it was amazing. Finally having you close to him like that after fantasizing about it for so long brought a new sensation to the game, something almost intoxicating to him.

You smiled against the kiss and pulled away before he could protest, a pout appearing on his lips almost instantly. He wondered if you even remembered your insecurities right now, but he didn’t want to think about that; you looked way too happy, and if the hunch he had was right, you were in a totally different place then. “Had this been on your mind too?” you asked, a sly smile making the corners of your mouth turn upwards as you placed your forehead against his, his fingers still holding onto your legs tightly.

“You’ve no idea how much.”

[willgayers]

hiii first of all i love the way you write!!! love love love and i was thinking could you do something about eddie being a flower shop owner and richie a music store owner?? Like eddie is all flowery and soft and richie is A Punk but with the sweetest smile and their stores are in front of one another, they see eachother all the time but they don't know how to interact!!!! xx

first of all thank you so much ❤️

aND OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS 

so eddie’s working at the cute floral store downtown where his cousin linda used to work at but now she moved to nyc and recommended eddie,,, her 19 year old cousin to the boss and voalá! eddie’s so cute and cuddly so immediately he got the job!!!!

and richie works at the music store opposite. his story of getting the job wasnt so ‘cute and cuddly’ see he got kicked out of his condo ,,, fired from kfc AND dumped by his girlfriend so he’s bunking at his buddy’s tommy’s place who works at the cd store and one day he was like hey! we’re actually looking for a new worker so r u interested and ofc richie was and yeah.

now as we’ve got the backgrounds covered,,,, one morning eddie comes to work with a takeaway cup of latte in his hand, he’s about to start opening the door when he hears some rattling and a loud “oh, fuck me!!!”

he turns his head towards the voice and sees a boy with out of control black curly hair,, he’s wearing a yellow colored flannel and a pair of ripped black jeans and slightly broken converse and he’s on the ground picking up some cd’s that eddie now figures have fallen down from the trolley

eddie has never seen him before so he’s curious

then the guy turns his head towards eddie too and eddie flusters because ho ho holy SHIT this guy is CUTE

“how do you do” the guy just nods and eddie rushes in to the floral store too shocked to interact with this cd guy

throughout the whole day eddie keeps on glancing outside from the windows of his store while he waters the plants or something,,, trying to see more of this guy and every time he does the boy just waves at him and eddie turns his gaze away IMMEDIATELY as he blushes

richie’s not doing so well on his first week he’s constantly dropping the cd’s or spilling coffee on the table or fucking up the cash system

this may all be partly due to the fact he can’t stop staring at the floral store boy

one day they come to work at the same time,, walking on the opposite sides of the street and glancing at each other, but neither one dares to say anything

richie can’t help but SWOON over the baby pink sweater this other boy is wearing and how it’s hanging all the way down to his knees and he just looks so cute and pure??? in his beige chinos and white sneakers

meanwhile he’s probably scared of richie in his studded leather jacket and chains on his jeans

one day eddie is watering the plants by the window again, gently biting on his lip as he looks at richie outside his cd store , a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth as he’s putting some poster on the billboard outside

“what are you looking at??”

eddie flinches and turns his head to his co-worker kate that is holding a coffee mug in her hand and then she gasps

“oH MY GOD YOU’RE DROWNING THE PLANT EDDIE!!!”

eddie looks at the vase and gasps too, turning the watering can up again,, cursing quietly as kate just grabs the plant and goes to change the dirt or whatever and eddie turns his gaze back outside,, kind of upset to see richie went back inside his store :-(

on a snowy ,, dark thursday in december richie’s walking to the evening shift and turns his gaze to the floral store just like every other day but now he sees eddie smiling to the customer and talking something ,,, then listening to whatever the customer is saying with the FRIENDLIEST little smile and then chuckling and oh fuck richie’s in love? he’s so much in love that he doesn’t realize he’s already at the store and now someone opens the door and richie doesn’t notice and the door slams straight to his face and he lets out a grunt as he slips on ice and falls to his butt on the ground

the next day eddie’s counting the cash when he looks up and sees the cd store boy,, lightly limping as he walks to his store

kaspbrak is worried is he ok???

turns out richie’s hurt his tailbone and now he needs a week’s rest

“im totally FINE tommy!!” richie says as he grimaces on his way to the kitchen to get some coffee

“richie you look like a old man that’s shat his pants”

“im FINE!” richie says, trying to straighten his back but soon letting out an ow ow ow- as tommy rushes over to him and guides him towards the couch where richie lays down

“seriously. im gonna do your shifts this week. just rest and watch jurassic park”

RICHIE JUST WANTS TO SEE THE CUTE FLORAL STORE GUY SO BAD HE MIGHT JUST CRY

but the feeling’s mutual

after the first couple of days of being confused and sad with not seeing richie, eddie finds himself basically running to work every morning hoping that today’s the day he’s finally gonna see the trashmouth cursing and kicking the trolley that won’t move but he’s never there!!!

he’s getting worried

oh my god is he dead???? he was walking weirdly what if he’s dead???

eddie’s a little nervous at work and kate notices he’s glancing at the cd store literally EVERY other second

“looking for the cute record store guy huh?” kate just casually asks as she flips the page of the magazine she’s reading and eddie flusters as he turns his head to kate

“wHAt”

“just so you know he’s not gonna come in for the rest of the week”

“????what why????”

“he hurt his tailbone because he fell.”

“he fell???” eddie frowns

“yeah i know tommy who works at the store. he said richie was distracted looking at something and so he fell”

eddie’s heart does a little jump

“richie?” he asks ,, his voice kinda soft

“yep that’s his name,” kate says and sips on her coffee

eddie just feels this weird warmth go through him as a small smile takes over his lips when he thinks of richie

on monday richie’s so fucking READY to go to work he hasn’t seen eddie all week other than inside his brain

and eddie’s practically been the only thing in there

so monday morning,, richie’s walking to work (slightly still limping but definitely not that bad anymore), he wants to go usain bolt and SPRINT but his doctor told him to take it easy so he’s gonna do that but not because the doc said so,,, only because he doesn’t wanna stay home for another week or two and not see eddie again

so eddie’s opening the store door again when he hears the sound of snow scrunching on the other side of the street and turns around ,, nearly dropping his coffee takeaway when he sees richie

richie’s heart flusters as he sees eddie and he stops at the store, both of them just staring at each other

until eddie finally speaks

“…hi”

richie almost chokes on air is that his voice??? that’s the cutest voice ever????

“,,hey” richie speaks

“where were you” eddie asks immediately regretting because oh my gOD now he knows eddie’s noticed him being gone

richie feels kinda happy??? that this cute boy has acknowledged his absence

“i had an accident”

“an accident??” eddie asks even tho he knows about it already but he decides to ask still because he kinda wants to know what richie was looking at when he fell

richie thinks whether he should go for it or not but oh my gOd flower store guy looks so adorable in his pastel pink bomber jacket and grey big wool scarf and the coffee mug in his hand and ????

“well this is kinda funny but i was looking at this cute brunette opposite the street and got hit in the face by a door” richie shrugs “and then i fell”

eddie’s tummy does a backflip and he has to bite down to his lip to stop himself from smiling ear to ear

RECORD STORE GUY THINKS HE’S CUTE??????????

“really?” he asks

“yeah.” richie says “he’s really cute. do you happen to know his name?”

eddie giggles. LITERALLY giggles

“i think his name’s eddie” he says and richie smiles evER SO SOFTLY BECAUSE EDDIE????? CUTE

“so,, eddie,” richie clears his throat “what time do you get off work?”

“six”

“!!! so do i!!!“richie lets out a laugh “you got any plans???”

(no he totally doesn’t but he’s gonna call tommy to come cover the rest of his shift)

“yeah” eddie says and richie’s smile fades because the grey cloud of disappointment falls over his lanky frame now

“with this super ridiculously hot record store guy,, we’re going out for pizza”

and now richie could do a backflip

ridiculously super hot????!?!??

he’s smirking so wide his face might tear up soon

“really??? how hot is he again???”

eddie chuckles

“really hot.” he says

if somehow possible,, the smirk on richie’s face widens even MORE

until he lets out a kind of raspy laugh and glances down at the ground

eddie could pass out from the sound of his laugh

and then ,,, cool and confident AF richie’s like

“see you at six then, eddie spaghetti”

richie mentally slaps himself for saying that outloud because that ruined the whole confident hot bad boy thing he got going on

“eddie what???” eddie asks

“nOTHING SEE YA” richie says and rushes in

neither one of them can focus on their jobs fully that day bc they’re so excited about the date that night and they keep glancing at each other through the windows and smiling so widely at each other

richie forgets to take a customer as he’s just gazing at eddie 

“uh hello???”

richie flinches back to the moment

“yES HI”

and the pizza date went great they had SUCH a fun time getting to know each other better,, laughing so much flirting so much 

(richie totally guided a pizza piece to eddie’s mouth and then was like oops you got some cheese here and then softly brushed it away from the corner of eddie’s mouth with his thumb and looked at eddie’s lips for a little too long and oh GOD the tension™)

and they were just enjoying each other’s company so mUch that they then decided to ,,, well,,,

take it back to richie’s place

which isn’t actually richie’s place

it’s tommy’s

the date went a little too well if you ask him

bc he had to

…listen…

but oh well! reckless teenagers! what can you do!

so the next morning richie has a day off from work but eddie has the morning shift and OOPSIE he slept in and now it’s 11.25am and he wakes up from under richie’s arm and he doesn’t even realize/remember it at first but now he opens his eyes and sees the cute record store guy asleep without a shirt on next to him with his hair even messier than usual and he’s kinda snoring and he looks so PEACEFUL and eddie’s heart expands and he finds himself smiling at the sight

and then he looks at the clock and realizes he’s slept in

“fUCK”

he jumps up so fast he wakes up richie who just goes “??????”

“FUCK im late for work SHIT”

richie’s like wow this cute thing can curse

“i gotta go,” eddie then says

“call me?” richie asks with a pout and eddie wants to sob

“i’ve got a better idea” eddie says, pulling something out of his pocket that turns out to be a pack of bubblegum

“oh wow! silly me im forgetting my gums!! well i better come fetch them after work today!!”

richie has the biggest grin on his face

“bye” eddie says and leans down to kiss richie who kisses him back so passionately that eddie melts in to the kiss and almost just decides not to give a fuck and fall back to the bed

“ohHhhkay i really gotta go” he then breaths out and rushes out of the room before it’s too late

he sees richie’s roommate by the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the newspaper

and then he looks up at eddie

“moooorning”

eddie gulps

“good morning” he says before storming out of the house

once he gets to the floral store there’s sO MANY PEOPLE because it’s december 22nd and it’s almost christmas and well the holiday season is always busy

“kate oh my god i am SO sorry-” eddie blurts out as he rushes in , straight behind the counter

kate doesn’t answer anything at first and eddie feels so bad and he immediately takes the next customer

once the store is a little calmed down ,, customers just walking around kate speaks  

“have fun?”

eddie turns bright red as he looks at kate

“huh???”

“you’ve got…” kate nods towards his neck and eddies eyes widen as he grabs the tiny mirror from the table and looks at his neck that’s got a HUGE hickey

“oh my god!!” he blurts out and kate smirks wide

eddie has to wrap his scarf around his neck

but he kinda likes the hickey

and he smiles to himself at the thought of going back home to richie after work

he could actually get used to it

no. he could definitely get used to it 

and he will because in a couple of months they decide to move in together and its the best god i love domestic!reddie

the end💓 💕 💖 💞 

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