#at all. if not for her. but as it stands I've made two! thanks swaps. I will spend the rest of my life thanking you :')

[legionofpotatoes]

Here's a second N7 Day surprise, thanks yet again to @swaps55 - we added Eden Prime to our lineup of Mass Effect destinations! I don't think I need to explain the profound importance of this one; the moment I laid eyes on a gas bag I knew I would pay respect to it in art form one day. Was just a matter of time and sufficient accumulation of skill. But we finally did it, folks.

As an added bonus, we helped tease the final piece to today's treasure hunt for Mass Effect's newest reveal over on the dreaded bird website. Caused quite the hubbub but was certainly a fun time!

[jakescakeislateforourdate]

Hey girly!! Im too shy to ask this without the anonymous filter but first of all I’ve been reading through your blog and I love it honestly. I was wondering if you are open to requests if you’d be able to write up something about joe rantz (I am absolutely LIVING for blonde callum) and maybe a coaches daughter trope? he saw her when he went to sign himself up, at the practices all that jazz and just them like becoming friends then more than friends, the boat scene where he gets his seat taken away from him maybe? thank you so much and again I love your work! xx

Hello, my lovely anon. Glad to see you in my inbox. I apologize for the wait but I've been coming out of an awful slump and I was trying to make this piece not total garbage. I hope you enjoy it and I hope I see you in my inbox again.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Joe Rantz (Callum Turner’s) x reader

wc: 4,600

Joe finds himself utterly gobsmacked when he discovers that the pretty face he’s seen at the shell house is the coach’s daughter and not his wife.

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Joe Rantz had come to the shell house in search of work. He’d hoped that making the team would cover his tuition and get him a room and he needed it so desperately. Roger Morris stood next to him, chewing nervously at his nails. “Sorry, Joe, didn’t realize competition would be so tight.” He mutters, spitting out a shred of his fingernail. Coach Ulbrickson was going over the basics of practice. It sounded like absolute hell to Joe but he was out of options. He fidgeted with the number painted on his jersey. Sure, he was strong from a lifetime of rough labor but so were the other boys. Most of them were broke too and just as desperate. Joe didn’t know if he had what it took to stand out but he’d be damned if he couldn’t make a life for himself because he couldn’t muscle up some money for college. 

As Ulbrickson speaks, a shadow appears in his office window. It’s too far for Joe’s nervous gaze to actually study the figure. He tries to focus on coach but the shadow continues to draw his attention. Roger notices too. “Who the hell is that?” Joe just shrugs. The shadow never leaves the window even as Ulbrickson finishes up and the boys get split up. Joe can’t dwell on the figure any longer because he’s being herded into the middle of shellhouse. He begins a horrible set of workouts. His body is made for hard work but he’s never actually worked out before. His muscles aren’t used to straining this way. 

It’s not long before his breathing becomes labored and sweat is pouring down his back. His curls hang down his forehead, sticking to his skin uncomfortably. And just when the pain is becoming unbearable the coaches are swapping them out and Joe is put on a junky old boat and an oar is pushed into his hands. They start rowing and instantly, the only thing on Joe’s mind is how bad his back hurts. Pained grunts and groans echo across the water as the boys struggle to keep pulling the oars. 

Eventually, it’s all over. Joe stumbles onto the dock in front of the shellhouse and feels his knees shaking with excursion. Men begin to drain away from the shellhouse and as the numbers dwindle, the shadow in the window of Ulbrickson’s office reappears. It moves through the glass panes like a swan through water. Then the office door opens and Joe sees your face for the first time. 

“That was some tough practice, huh?” Roger bumps Joe’s shoulder, a crooked smile on his face. Joe cannot respond and Roger follows his gaze. “Washington, Washington, what finery you enjoy.” 

You descend the steps and take a place between Ulbrickson and Bolles. Ulbrickson puts and arm around and Joe feels his heart wither a little. You’re probably Mrs. Ulbrickson. Though he can’t shake the impression that you look a little too young to be with Ulbrickson. 

“Alas,” Roger throws up his hands, “Finery we cannot also enjoy.”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I’m not! How was that crass?” Roger purses his lips and nudges Joe. 

Joe just buttons up his jacket and picks up his books, “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”

The very next day, Joe is suffering through practice. He aches all over and his muscles scream at him. He’s already shaking when he gets done with the basic strength building exercises. Most of the boys are. There are fewer numbers today but this does not better Joe’s odds by much. They clamber into Old Nero and start rowing away. His wrists twinge and his knees spasm. He rows and rows until he thinks his body will give out and then Ulbrickson is directing them back to the shellhouse. Jow crawls out of the boat, soaked to the bone and stiff as a board.

Then he sees you again, this time your sorting registry papers with Pocock. Your back is turned to him, so you don’t notice his longing stare. He keeps telling himself that you’re a married lady and that he should be focused on making the team, but nothing seems to chase you from his mind. 

Coach Ulbrickson sweeps across the dock and places a hand on top of your head, an odd gesture between husband and wife but Joe wouldn’t know about those things. Since his group was the last to use Old Nero, they get the privilege of stowing the oars. Joe begins unlatching the mechanism when he shifts on his knees.

It happens so fast he can’t clock what’s happening. First there’s the sensation of slipping, the horrible thrust of his legs flying out from beneath him. He twists mid slip, and his side smacks the dock painfully before he’s swept off the dock by his own weight. He plumets into the cold water with a catastrophic splash and agonized shriek.

When Joe resurfaces a dozen hands are reaching for him. He grasps onto George Hunt’s forearm and allows Shorty to hoist him onto the sodden wood planks. A fluffy white towel is draped around his shoulders; firm hands rub his chilled biceps. “Are you alright?” You face appears before him.

Joe is almost too stunned to speak, “I—yeah, yeah I’m okay.” 

You tuck the ends of the towel into his hands, “Better get showered up and dressed.” Joe just nods and stumbles past you and into the locker room. Roger follows closely behind, teasing Joe relentlessly.

“You’re fallin’ harder than I thought.”

“Roger!” Joe grinds his teeth, huffing and puffing. “You need better jokes.”

Joe spends that night struggling to focus on his schoolwork. He has math homework that needs doing. He has books to read. The one in his hands now periodically goes in and out of focus as Joe’s mind wanders. On the page is the story of a western novel, a man had found a girl walking alone the road at dusk, all on her own. He didn’t want to leave her to the coyotes, so he offered her a ride into the nearest town. They were riding horseback across the prairie. Her arms wound tightly around him; her hands splayed over his chest. 

Her hands—

Her hands—

What is wrong with you, Joe?

Joe reads this line over and over again. Each time he nears the end his brain short circuits and all he can think about are your hands on your shoulders. You hadn’t even really touched him, at least not his skin.  Yet the only thing shooting through his neurons are the sensations of your fingers along his skin. That imaginary touch he can conjure up so perfectly. He eventually gives in and skips down a few paragraphs. He reads late into the night and the phantom touches are still nagging his senses when he closes the book and rolls over to sleep. 

…

Day after day, Joe sees you at practice. You congratulate him when he makes the team and help him with his technique every once and a while. “Roll your wrists just a bit more.” Your fingers would poke at his forearms and direct him in graceful strokes. It fries his brain. You give pointers to the rest of the team too, working closely with Bolles and Pocock to get them in racing shape. It’s not long into the season when Ulbrickson decides to switch coxswains. 

“This is Bobby Moch. Your new jockey.” Bolles announces one day. Bobby is short and slender and sharp tongued.  The second he climbs in the boat and starts barking out commands, Joe is flabbergasted. Who is Bobby to talk to the team this way? But they all find themselves obeying his every word. What really irks Joe about Bobby is how friendly he is with you. You exchange jokes and poke fun at each other. Joe tells himself that he just thinks it’s inappropriate to flirt with the coach’s wife but beneath it all he’s incredibly jealous that Bobby can make you laugh so easily. It makes Joe pine for attention in a way that he never has before. 

The day of their race against California, Joe is all jitters and nerves. He bounces on the balls of his feet and shakes his hands, trying to loosen the anxiety. Streamers and garlands of flags decorate the locker room and the campus. People have gathered in clusters along the course and wave flags of purple and gold. The smell of popcorn and peanuts permeates the air and Joe promises to indulge himself if they win.

As the crew carried their shell down to the water, they begin chanting to themselves. “Bow down to Washington!” They neglect the varsity’s jeers and clip their oars into position. They spot Coach Ulbrickson in the stands, you at his side. And then there’s another woman. And Ulbrickson hugs her. And then he kisses her.

Right in front of you! What is going on?

“Rantz! Eyes on me!” Bobby hollers. But Joe can’t help stealing another confused glance. “I said quite drooling over coach’s daughter and LOOK AT ME!”

Joe feels like an idiot. He puts his head down in shame and tightens his grip on the oar. Ulbrickson joins them on the dock and gives one of his famously encouraging speeches. Joe is only half paying attention. They push off and are left with lovely Bobby hyping them up while they wait for the race to start. They lean forward, like a bow drawn for a shot. And then the white flag flies and the boats shoot away from the docks.

There’s nothing but blur as Joe rows. He can only focus on the muscled shoulders of Don Hume in the stroke seat as Bobby screams at them. “28!”

About halfway through the course, Bobby demands the stroke rate be upped and Don performs. The shell lurches forward, eating up the distance between Washington and Cal until the JV boat surpasses the Berkeley blokes. Then the boat is cutting across the finish line, a clean win. Adrenaline rushes Joe’s veins. He throws his fists in the air as the team splashes and roars. They’re inevitably drowned out by the crowd who bursts up in a shower of peanuts and Washington flags. 

Coach Ulbrickson, the new woman Joe assumes his Ulbrickson’s wife, and you rush the dock as the boys climb out of the boat. “Excellent job.” Mrs. Ulbrickson shakes their hands as they unclip their oars. Bolles is compassionate enough to give them each a pat on the back as they hoist the boat over their heads and haul it off. 

Joe can’t help but notice the copious amounts of onlookers pooling around the shell as they carry it back to the shellhouse. They set it down on the stands and before they can even take their hands off the shell, they are bombarded by Washington fans. Girls reaching out to stroke their biceps or kiss their cheeks. Joe has never received attention like this once in his life. He’s as polite as possible, brushing off a few girls here and there and shaking the hand of the occasional fellow. Shorty has accumulated a few lipstick stains on his cheek. Don Hume is blushing from the tips of his ears down to the point of his freckled nose. Chuck and Roger accept a few hugs. They bask in the winners’ glory for only a few moments until the varsity team strolls by. They make a comment to Moch that Joe doesn’t catch but judging by the way Bobby’s shoulders square he can make obvious conclusions.

“You rowed so well today, Joe.” He hears your voice, and his palms start to sweat.

“Thanks, I uh—” It occurs to him that he doesn’t actually know a thing about you. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten your name.” You smile at him, and syllables fall out but the crowd is too loud. “What?” Your grasp his shoulder and lean in, the sound of your name echoes off the shell of his ear. 

When you pull away, you’re still smiling but before Joe can ask you another question, Bobby is buzzing by with a play-by-play of exactly what happened in Bobby’s world. 

You shade your eyes and peer down at the docks, “Looks like dad is almost done with the varsity. I should get down there.” You say, and Bobby turns around to talk to Shorty. “Hey. Will I see you at the party tonight?” Your hand rests on Joe’s shoulder. He prays you can’t feel his heart skip a beat. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Good. You had better save a dance for me, Joe Rantz.”

You leave him breathless, the butterflies in his stomach so vicious that he shudders. He watches you disappear down the pathway to the dock and his heart starts hammering with anticipation. You want to dance with him. You want to touch his hands, touch him. And then he remembers that you already did that, he was too focused on the motion of your lips that he’d hardly registered the sensation of your hands on his arm. Damn! What had it felt like? He’d remembered it’d made him flabbergasted and choked his speech but he couldn’t remember how the grooves in your palm felt as they brushed over his skin. The warmth of your fingertips. He curses himself out and vanishes into the locker room to get changed.

…

The dance rolls around rather too quickly and Joe is swimming in nerves. He has to tie his tie twice because he messes up so badly, he can’t even draw it tight to his neck. Roger found out all too quickly and hasn’t let Joe catch a break.

“A date with coach’s daughter. Careful Joe, Ulbrickson might throw you off the team if he catches the wrong look in your eye.” 

“Shut up, Roger, I’m not greasy like you”

“Ouch, that hurts me.”

“Clearly not enough.” Joe hisses as he finally gets his tie right. 

“Feels like I’m a father about to send his kid off to prom.” 

Joe sighs and throws on his suit coat. “Oh, please—”

“Look at you fly, shooting out of your league.” 

Roger works a smile onto Joe’s face, and they set off for the party. Spring is finally warming the campus up from a brutal winter and a few couples mull around outside. Joe and Roger find their way into the crowded gymnasium, both shocked by just how loud it is. Joe can’t even hear his own thoughts. They spot the team almost immediately, clustered around tables, drinks in their hands. A few of the boys are dancing with some lovely dames, a few are leaned against the wall having close conversations. Don is sitting by himself on a bench a few feet away from the refreshment table, watching the dance floor. Joe is turning to follow Roger towards the other boys but an arm loops through his, “Thought you weren’t going to show.” You practically shout. 

Joe can’t help but grin as you capture his attention. “You weren’t joking.”

“Not a bit, Rantz, didn’t have any other dancing plans except for this one.”

“Guess I should make it worth your wait then.” Joe leads you into the thicket of bodies.

He prides himself on the laugh you let out, “please do,” you say as he takes your hands and spins to face you.  He places his hand high on your waist and cradles the other gently in his palm. He can feel the smooth plains of you hand against his. Each crease and each callous. His are no doubt unbelievably rough from the rowing and he would feel bad but right now all he can feel are your fingers lacing through his. “You’re not half bad.” You tease. Joe knows his cheeks are heating up to a flaming red. Probably his ears too. 

His hand migrates to the small of your back as the music changes into a soft slow song. “I’ll be completely honest,” he starts, “I had no idea you were the coach’s daughter.”

“Then who else would I be?” 

“I thought you were his wife.” He looks away sheepishly, but your laughter is so unrestrained and whole that Joe’s heart melts. You can’t stop laughing either and it’s contagious. 

“You’re an engineering student, right?” Your shoes brush as you sway with him. 

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Joyce.” Joe’s heart drops. In his infatuation he’d forgotten all about her. “She was trying to hit on you, but she figured out that your attention was elsewhere.”

“You too are good friends then?”

“Just since the start of the year. We have an English class together.” You and Joe talk for a while, it forces you to be close and neither of you care to separate. Eventually, you move outside and sit with sit with Joe on the steps of the gym. It’s still chilly out and you sit close to Joe which he doesn’t mind one bit. At some point your head rests on his shoulder and you close your eyes. Joe can do nothing but stare down at you, his mouth agape. 

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You trace his knuckles with your pointer finger.

Joe’s head pounds, his mouth dry, “This has never happened to me before.”

“None of the girls from high school? Never?”

“Not one.”

You look up at Joe and reach to smooth back a blond curl. “Shame, they were missing out.” This makes Joe smile again and he’s immensely pleased with how easily you do that to him. Make him happy. He hasn’t felt like this since… he can’t remember when. Sure, he was happy when the team won but that was different. That was pride. So was making the team. This feels more affectionate, closer to the heart. He wonders if this is what love feels like but that would be silly; he’s only known your name for a day. He’s also never been flattered quite like this. Besides Joyce, he can’t think of anyone else who’s actually been interested in him. Certainly not one who compliments him the way you do. 

People start to drain out of the gym very slowly and Joe checks his watch. “So late already?”

“Guess I should get home; my dad will be wrought with worry.” You joke and straighten out your skirt. 

“Can I walk you home?”

“I would love that.”

Joe offers you his hand, “Where does coach live?” 

“Not too far.” You accept his calloused hand and direct him off campus. Surprisingly, Joe has read the book you’re reading for English and time flies as you discuss the book. Then Joe makes a sobering comment that makes you stop and study him. 

“His parents remind me of my own.”

Joe realizes what he’s let slip, “Don’t worry about it too much. I’m okay.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

Joe presses his lips into a line and stares down at his worn shoes. A wave of self-consciousness washes over him as he realizes how ragged of a life he has lived and just how much it shows. “Well—”

“Is this why you have a hard time trusting your team?”

“Hey now,”

“Sorry.” You take his hands.

He grimaces and squeezes your soft palms. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” 

Joe sighs and swipes a thumb across your knuckles. “My Pops just… left me one day. Told me I’d be fine on my own.” Joe gives you parts of the story. Mostly what he feels like stomaching at the moment.

When he’s finished you let go of his hands and cup his cheeks. He sinks into the touch, soaking it up like a flower budding in sunlight. You don’t say anything, you just look at him. You look at him like he’s the only thing that’s ever mattered and his heart trembles because he has never once known what it’s like to be that for someone else. And then you stand on tip toes and plant a hearty kiss on his forehead. “This is it actually,” you gesture behind you at the hosue that must be the Ulbricksons’. “I’ll see you tomorrow at practice?”

“Yeah.” The spot on his forehead that you kissed tingles. “Nowhere else I’d want to be.”

…

The Poughkeepsie Regatta rolls around all too quickly and Ulbrickson has to make a decision. The varsity boat who deserves it. Or the JV boat who could win it. His hands sweat as he stands on at that pulpit and reads off his preplanned speech. As he talks, he thinks about the future of the rowing program. The jobs it has provided him and Bolles. About how Pocock would have to find work elsewhere and it’d kill Al Ulbrickson to send him away. 

He leans into the mic and spits, “and that boat is our JV boat.” It has to be them. They have to win. Moans and groans blow his way as the crowd rejects his announcement. Regret washes over him but he cannot take this back. He has to be right about his crew. He tips his hat and hustles off the podium as the JV bursts into celebration. He has to be right.

…

Joe is more than pleased to see you on the train to Poughkeepsie. He slides into the car with you, and you chat away. You were fast friends the night of the dance and have since become closer. The kiss on the forehead still lingers sometimes, especially when Joe sees your lips form your smile. You entice him into some card games and eventually a game of chess. At some point, he decides that he needs to sleep and bids you goodnight so that he can find a train car to sleep in. But before he does, he sneaks a chaste kiss onto your knuckles. 

His good mood is stamped out the very next day when the team takes to the water. They don’t row good, and frustration starts to build. Bobby and the coaches try and get them working together, telling them that it’s just nerves and new water. But tensions rise regardless. The days start to dwindle, and the crew is getting worse and worse. 

Blame starts to turn to him, and Joe is at a loss. He doesn’t want to believe that he’s holding the team back, but he thinks back to what you said that night he walked you home. But the most awful feeling creeps over him, not an ounce of care. What’s wrong with him. This crew has been the only family he’s had in years. He needs them. But he can’t bring himself to admit it. 

Before he knows it, it slips and Ulbrickson is exiling him from the boat. As the crew watches Joe storm away, their spare crawls in and they set off for another row. Bolles taps you on the shoulder, “you had better see if you can do anything. Enlist Pocock if you have to.” Your father nods along.

You set out to find him, not that it was hard there’s not many places he can go alone. He’s stuffing his suitcase when you find him. “Don’t start.” He snaps. Then he sees your expression and his anger sours. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t—”

“Don’t give up on your team, Joe.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, you’re quitting and throwing everything you’ve worked for away.”

“Don’t, don’t even start to pretend you know me.” He realizes too late that he’s made everything so much worse and before he can fix a thing Pocock is at the door.

“I could use some help putting another coat of oil on the shell.”

You duck past Pocock and leave Joe with a painful pit of remorse in his stomach. He follows Pocock and takes the talking to straight to the heart. As he lathers on a thick coat of oil, he figures he can bargain with Ulbrickson in the morning, but he should make a proper apology to you now. He racks his brain for anything that would make it right, but he’s horrifically inexperienced and it’s crippling him now. He feels like a child having a tantrum. He feels miniscule and insignificant.

After Joe dunks his brush into the whale oil can for the last time, he figures he’d better just confront the issue head on since he has no way of handling it delicately. He has no grace and he’s sure you’re aware of this. Pocock gives him an encouraging pat and takes the can from him. Joe winds his way back to the hotel and through the halls. Your room is on the second floor, third door down. He knocks gently, eyes lingering on the hideous carpet and tacky sconces. The door swings open after a moment and Joe is met with your disapproving glower. His tongue seems to swell in his mouth so badly that he worries it’ll flop out when he tries to speak. 

“Coffee?” You ask when you realize he will stand there silently forever if you don’t let him in. 

“No… I just wanted to—to apologize.”

“Oh really.” Your eyebrow quirks.

Joe is fumbling for words. You stand aside and motion for him to step inside so you can have this discussion in privacy. “I know that was wrong to take out my frustration on you. That wasn’t fair and none of it is your fault.” He twiddles his thumbs. How does he go about this without absolutely butchering it? “I just—” As he trails off, he notices a hurt dullness in your eyes. He recognizes it as pity. “You and the crew are really all I’ve got, and I’m so scared I’m going to lose it.”

“These boys aren’t going to leave you behind unless you separate yourself from them like today.”

“I know.

“Really?”

“Pocock made sure I know.”

The edges of your lips tilt up. You pull him down onto the foot of the bed and take his hand. “Are you actually going to try and trust them?”

“Don’t have enough faith to put it in anyone else.”

You squeeze his hand and trace a finger along his jawline, sweeping a knuckle under his chin. You force his stubborn gaze to you and find nothing but desperation. Wanting things like this doesn’t come natural to Joe and it shows, but he’s not so different from the other boys in that boat. 

You reach up and fiddle with a curl, “apology accepted.” Tears pool in the corners of his eyes and he tries to choke them down. You place a hand on his chest and rest your forehead on his. His breath fans over your cheeks. The tip of his nose brushes yours. His shoulders sag inwards and he reaches for your waist. 

“Can I—may I kiss you?”

Joe’s sweetness never fails to amaze you. You cradle his face and bring him closer. “Yes, Joe.” His breath hitches and his lips finally meet yours for the very first time. He’s gentle but generous and lets you kiss him for as long as you like. His arms wrap around you fully and hold you to his chest. He gets the feeling that he’ll be craving these moments all the time now, finally understanding what Roger and Chuck rave about. He’s hooked on your lips and your weight against him and when you pull away it breaks his heart. 

“You should get cleaned up before you talk to my father, you smell like whale oil.”

...

Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading this. If you'd like to request, feel free to do so. I always love you in my inbox. I hope you enjoyed this fic and if you like it please check out my masterlist for more. Have nice day.

-the author

[runnning-outof-time]

A (Debatably) Lovely Dinner | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) has her family over for a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. Her father and uncles tell her that it tastes lovely...but are they actually thinking that?

Warnings: drinking, language

Word Count: 1773

A/N: this is the first daughter!reader fic I’ve written in a bit - I hope it’s good. I’m excited to be writing requests again! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories!

(Y/N) wrang her hands together as she looked over all of the pots that were currently boiling on the stove. She took a breath and let it out slowly, trying to compose herself and shake the nerves from her body.

"You're doing great, love. It's going to be a good meal," her husband, James, offered some encouragement as he came up behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of her head as he pulled her into his chest.

"Maybe I should have accepted the catering offer? There's a lot of people coming over," she expressed her worry, eyes still focused on the pots. She then began to wonder why she even agreed to hosting her family in the first place.

"This is going to be extra special because you made it all," he told her, kissing her temple once more before letting her get back to work. "And your cooking is wonderful," he complimented her, sending a smile her way as she turned to look at him.

She smiled back, although it wavered due to the nerves she was still feeling, watching as he exited the kitchen before she got back to work.

(Y/N) was bringing the final dish to the dining table two hours later. She smiled at everyone who was waiting patiently for dinner to start and took a deep breath as she moved to stand behind her husband's chair.

"James and I would like to thank everyone for coming tonight. I hope that you enjoy what I've prepared for you to eat," she gave a small speech, her nervous smile still present as she then sat down.

"Let's eat then, eh?" Tommy suggested, smiling at his daughter from the opposite end of the table. He was proud of her for this vast spread that she'd managed to cook up. It smelled wonderful to him.

Comments of agreement came from around the table as everyone began taking dishes and spooning helpings of the food onto their plates. (Y/N) watched as this happened, wanting to make sure all was well; filling her plate last.

Dinner began quietly, the sounds of forks hitting plates the only thing to be heard. (Y/N) couldn't help but sneak a few glances around the table, wanting to see if there were any problems. All looked fine to her.

Somehow, she didn't manage to catch her uncles, John and Arthur, throwing sideways glances at each other in between each bite they took. Something about the taste seemed off to them. Whether it was the seasoning on the roast, or the choice or cut of the vegetables, the food wasn't exactly pleasurable to eat.

But the pleased look on their niece's face told them that she was happy to have the family over, eating a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. They couldn't even think of ruining things for her by bringing up the fact that her cooking was well under par.

And besides, Tommy seemed to be fine with eating it, and he never ate anything.

Dinner continued and small talk was made. The usual discussion of business between the Shelby family had been swapped for stories of the past and the men making arrangements for their annual hunting trip that was fastly approaching.

All was well until (Y/N) decided to ask the table for opinions on the food. "How has everyone been enjoying the food?" She wasn't sure if she was being too upfront in asking for opinions, but no one had offered any prior to her question, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't dying to know their thoughts.

"Lovely as always, darling," her husband, James, was the first to share his thoughts on it, sending her a smile as he cut himself another piece of the roast.

"Thanks, James," she smiled back at him before looking out to the rest of the table. No one else's eyes met hers; their gazes cast down on their plates. Maybe that means they really like the food, she thought to herself. "Dad?" she asked after a few moments had passed. Tommy looked up at her, his brows raised as if to say 'what?' "What do you think?" she asked, curious to know what his thoughts on the meal were.

"It's good, love," he told her, nodding as he grabbed his glass of whiskey, "really good."

"Thank you," she chirped in response, feeling extremely pleased with herself. She grabbed her fork and knife then and went to cut a piece of the roast.

"Well I think that..." another comment started to come out, but it was abruptly stopped. "What the bloody hell was that for?" the voice belonged to Linda Shelby, and she was now glaring daggers at her husband, Arthur. Arthur had his brows furrowed as he glanced between his wife and (Y/N), a bit of an uneasy expression present on his face. "Spit it out, Arthur," she snapped in a harsh whisper. Arthur said nothing of sustenance though, instead just shaking his head and muttering "don't," under his breath.

"Were you going to say something, Linda?" (Y/N) asked, her curiosity peaked as she focused on the blonde woman.

Linda shared one last look with her husband, who was still discreetly shaking his head, before she plastered a smile on her face and turned to look at the younger woman. "I was just going to say that...that...this is a lovely dinner, (Y/N)," she finally shared her opinion on the cooking, although it may not have been originally what she wanted to say. (Y/N) took it though, a smile breaking onto her features.

"Aww thanks so much, Linda. I was so worried about this dinner. I'm so happy to hear that everyone is enjoying it," (Y/N) expressed her previous worries with the group, earning a chorus of 'no it was good’ comments in response.

Overly pleased with herself now, (Y/N) was smiling from ear to ear as she continued eating her dinner. Just wait until they try the dessert, she thought to herself, pride flowing through her.

The Shelby men followed James into his study after the dessert plates had been removed from the table. (Y/N) had decided to take the women around for a tour of her new home, a tour which the men felt they didn't need to join. All five of them had a glass in their hand, and they were seated on the chairs that were positioned around the mantle.

"I don't know how you do it, James," Arthur said with a sigh as he brought his glass back to his lips. He took a drink and then let out a sigh after swallowing it.

"Do what?" James was confused by the older man's statement.

"Eat (Y/N)'s food daily," Arthur didn't beat around the bush. "I mean, she's me neice and I love her, but the food she cooks is fucking terrible."

James nodded slowly in response to Arthur's statement, a knowing look present on his face as he looked like he was fighting a smile. He then took a look at Tommy, checking the waters before sharing information about the daughter of a man who could do some nasty damage if he said the wrong thing. He wasn't surprised to see his father in law looking at him.

"Well how do ya do it?" John broke the silence, signaling to the other man that he'd been taking too long to respond.

"She's my wife," he began, a smile forming on his face, "I've learned to love every part of being with her."

"Ah you've gone soft, lad," Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the response he got before he set his sights on his brother, "and you, Tom…how do you do it, brother?"

Tommy laughed to himself as he heard the question. He brought his whiskey up and took a sip, pausing for a moment longer before finally answering the question: "guess it grows on you." His response was simple, and he followed it with a shrug.

"You both have not a clue what you're talking about," Arthur commented with a shake of his head, "John, help me out here. It's nothing against (Y/N)...her food's just downright terrible, right?" he looked to his younger brother for some back up.

"Right," John nodded, raising his glass in agreement.

"Good man," Arthur praised his brother for answering in line with him.

"I think her cooking's good," Finn chimed in from where he was sitting by the fire.

"You wouldn't know what's good for ya, Finn," Arthur dismissed his youngest brother's opinion. Finn shook his head and looked at the fire, wondering why he decided to add his two cents in the first place.

Silence fell in the room then, and James couldn't help but keep thinking about his response to Arthur's question. It made him chuckle as he realized that maybe he hadn't been completely truthful with what he had said.

"What's funny?" John asked, catching the other man's laugh.

All eyes were on him in an instant. He could tell by their intent gazes that he wouldn't be able to get out of this one. "Nothing...it's just that," he paused, letting out a breathy laugh as he shook his head, "I will admit that her cooking has been harder to learn to love than the rest of her," he shared what he'd been thinking.

John and Arthur immediately began laughing, both happy that they'd gotten the young man to break and share his actual thoughts on their niece's cooking. They knew that he felt the same as they did just by the vague response he gave earlier, but hearing it cemented the victory.

"It took me a while too. You'll get there," Tommy cut through the laughter of his brothers to offer his son in law some advice. James smiled at Tommy, happy to know that maybe he'd be able to get used to it, just like his father in law had.

(Y/N) was sitting with the rest of the women in the front room. She'd become quiet, letting the others continue their conversation about the latest fashion trends. She had too much on her mind.

A smile was present on her face as she thought back to the dinner, and all of the lovely comments she received from her family. Giddiness bubbled up inside of her as her mind went to thinking about what she would cook for their next family dinner. She couldn’t wait to have them over again!

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[m-jelly]

Levi x ballerina reader. Like theyre already together and reader was warming up and levi got all blushy and didnt know how to tell her...

@kenkopanda-art <3

Stretching

Levi x fem!reader

Modern AU, fluff, romance, being a couple, ballerina reader, flustered Levi, suggestive.

Levi goes with you to practice because he adores watching you dance. This is his first time watching you stretch and as he does he starts to feel things he shouldn't in public.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

Watching you was like watching a Goddess design and create a magical world. No matter how many times Levi watched you, he was always left speechless. It just brought a smile to his face because you were so happy when you danced, it was just in your blood and soul.

The pain you would get in your feet sometimes was bad, so Levi did everything in his power to help you. He made sure he bought the best products and would massage it all into your feet and ankles. Every time you felt doubt or tired, he would praise you and give you the boost you needed. Levi always had a bag full of everything you needed to keep you going.

Today you had practice and you invited Levi to go with you, which he was excited about. Levi was the CEO of a company that supplied wonderful tea and coffee that was delicious and the trading was fair. Every single person he employed was paid fairly and had rights.

Levi helped you take your jacket off and then knelt before you and swapped your boots for your shoes. He was never asked to do this, he just loved doing it and you always felt flustered as his talented fingers moved as he tied up the ribbon.

You let out a shy whine. "Levi."

He glanced up at you with pure adoration in his eyes. "Yes?"

"You don't have to do this."

"I know." He leaned closer and kissed your knee. "I want to. I enjoy it."

You hummed a little laugh. "You're cute."

He leaned up and kissed you. "Have a good practice. I will be right here if you need me. I have your drinks and snacks."

You giggled. "Thank you. You take such good care of me."

"Because I love you."

You felt your cheeks heat up. "I love you too." You rose to your feet. "I gotta warm up."

"I'll be here. You're doing amazing."

The other people coming in didn't even register with Levi because his eyes were on you. Every move you were making was so elegant and smooth. He took a seat and admired the way you worked. A sweet smile graced his lips as you stretched your joints.

Levi blushed hard when you lifted your leg in the air and grabbed your toes. Something heated shot through him when he saw you doing the splits standing up. He tried to look away from between your legs, but it was hard to not look at how stunning and sexy you were.

Every move you made and stretch was intoxicating and attractive to him. The two of you were very physical with each other in bed, it was hard to keep your hands to yourselves. You both wanted each other and enjoyed loving and touching the other. It was not like he'd never seen you in sexy positions before, but something was setting his heart and body on fire.

He shifted a little and realised he was getting more and more needy for you. He grabbed your bag of drinks and snacks and then placed it on his lap. Now he was more comfortable, he watched you for much longer and felt himself drooling at how incredible you were. It was hard to hide his blush on his cheeks and as soon as you looked over him and smiled, you seemed to register the blush he had and simply giggled.

Levi enjoyed watching you practice and as soon as you hurried over he offered you a drink. "W-Well done."

You downed some of your drink and hummed. "We're you checking me out as I stretched?"

"I-I've never seen you stretch before. I-It was uh...n-nice."

"Nice?" You smirked and leaned closer. "Nice how?"

He gulped hard and tried to avoid your gaze. "I ah...you...well..."

You kissed Levi and nuzzled your nose against his after. "You are so cute. It's okay to admit you got horny watching me."

He groaned a bit. "I feel like an animal."

"My hungry wolf."

He looked at his lap as he blushed. He released a long sigh before speaking. "I l-loved what I s-saw. Mm...it made me...feel things...good things..."

"Well, I know how you feel. When you work out in the gym in our home? My word does it make me tingle inside." You released a long sigh. "You're incredible."

Levi got up and growled. "Maybe next time I can use you to work out. I could lift you."

You shivered. "Y-Yes."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Unrivaled Beauty.

O’ Beautiful Queen, your loveliness is eternal and unchallenged.

Steal center stage, and the hearts of those who gaze upon you.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

War is as much of an art as it is a brazen display of brutality.

For Vil, every performance he gives is war. His weapons: skill, grace, beauty. All of it meant to charm the audience. No substitutions, it no stunt doubles.

Today is no different.

He kneels in the snow atop a corpse. Not a real dead man, but a dummy with an eerie amount of detail. It had been prepared by experts in the prop department, made to resemble his character's sworn enemy in the film.

Crimson blooms upon white robes marked with ancient runes. The collar and neckline are daring, plunging to reveal a generous amount of the bare skin of the chest to the elements. The hair, a tangled mess of glossy raven waves, sticking from the moisture to cold skin. The skin, pale blue with frost, the eyes cloudy orbs.

The mouth, stained red with the blood of countless innocents, no longer moves.

In this scene, the she-devil Snow White is dead, and he, heir to the Witch Queen, has slain her.

Without hesitation, he plunges his bare hand into the dummy’s chest, fishing out a model heart. It is covered in a mixture of corn syrup, food coloring, cocoa powder, and starch to simulate bodily fluids. The thickened liquid dribbles down his own pale hands, staining them.

Lifting his trophy into the air, a joyous, defiant sparkle in his eyes. A throaty cry erupts from him.

“With this, the Eternal Snow will be no more, and peace shall return to my realm!!”

Vil’s explosive laughter fills the mountain. The snow shakes, the land itself shudders in his presence.

He has won.

Finally, finally, finally.

A gruff man’s voice reaches him.

“CUT!!”

In an instant, the scene falls apart and reality sets in.

Cameramen tend to their equipment, prop managers and stylists exchange whispers. Special effects mages tamp down their snow spells. The illusion is stripped away, revealing a balmy day set against a backdrop of mountains.

Staff in scurry in, offering Vil towelettes and lotion to clean and moisturize his hands. He accepts them, then waves the staff off, one ferrying the fake heart.

“Bravo, Vil-kun, bravo!!” the director gushes. “I knew it was the right call to cast you as the hero for this film. There wasn’t a flaw in your acting, m’boy!!”

“Thank you, sir.” Vil bows to the older man, keeping his reply short and simple. “It is an honor to be a part of your masterfully written story."

It is the tale of a beautiful demon locked away in a glass coffin, freed from slumber and set upon the world to shroud it in never-ending winter… The tale of a selfless noble and her huntsmen that stands in opposition to her and her seven sniveling imp minions. A tale of two fates intertwining—the noble whose bloodline sealed the demon away, and the demon who vowed revenge on descendent of the Witch Queen.

Vil's eyes cannot stop themselves from sliding over to his co-star, who waits in the wings. His lifelong rival, Neige LeBlanche.

He is dressed similarly to the dummy that had been swapped in for his corpse. Red ruins his pristine white gown, and his hair is wild—but off-camera, Neige lacks the madness of the villain he plays. Neige smiles sweetly at the staff, giggles like an innocent schoolboy.

Vil fails to look away before Neige meets his eyes. He waves shyly, and, out of courtesy, Vil returns it.

“You've all been working very hard to bring my vision to life," the director happily booms. "Let's take a 30-minute break. Hydrate, grab some food, whatever. Actors, hair and makeup retouches before stepping back on set!"

There is a collective murmur of approval, feet shuffling for the refreshments table. A staff member offers Vil a spot in the donut line, but he politely declines.

"No thank you, I've prepared granola and a light fruit yogurt ahead of time. If you'll excuse me."

He peels away and heads for his trailer. Once Vil is shut away—a well-trained peacock stepping into his gilded cage—he produces his phone and reviews his jam-packed schedule: the film shoot, an interview with a popular variety show, modeling for a magazine cover, practicing for a stage play…

He, cast in the spotlight of hero in every single one.

You are the fairest of them all, Mira would robotically recite. All the social media websites and news outlets were talking nonstop about him, and he knows it.

It's the Age of Vil, his manager would joke. Isn't this great? You're demonstrating your range. This will definitely net you bigger and bigger opportunities in the future!

They’re finally recognizing you for your cuteness and goodness, his father would tell him. That’s my son! I knew everyone would come around eventually.

On any other day, he might have scoffed or dismissed their comments. Today, he simply smirks, silently pocketing his phone.

Vil passes a large vanity on his way to the mini-fridge. A glimpse of his reflection reveals the elaborate jewel-toned ensemble he is fitted for, the makeup that highlights the highest points of his face. Shining, commanding attention—just as any protagonist would.

He stands straighter, holds his chest higher. Proudly flaunting his feathers, his numerous accomplishments.

I've worked myself to the bone to reach this point. I've earned every little bit of this.

Retrieving his snacks, Vil makes to join the crew on their break. Even if Neige will be present as well, he grimaces.

A shadow invades his periphery.

Vil pauses at the doorway and looks back.

There, sitting on his vanity, was a bushel of roses the color of midnight. A black envelope embellished with gold accents is tucked among the petals.

His brows knit together. How odd--he is certain he hadn't seen that a second ago, nor had he heard anyone entering to drop it off while he was briefly at the fridge. How could he have missed such an obvious gift?

"Perhaps it's from the director or producer," he muses, plucking the envelope free and opening it.

Inside, there is, as suspected, a letter.

Same black paper, same gold embellishments.

To Schoenheit,

Please accept this humble offering from myself. It was a joy to watch you perform to your heart's content.

I was very moved by the experience. It is not often that I get to observe Man in all of its peaks and crests in such a short span of time.

I will continue to watch over you and support your dreams from the sidelines.

Sincerely,

M. D.

Initials in the place of a name? Vil turns the paper over, expecting more on the other side. It's unlike his fans to leave out their full identity. (Half of the time, they include a list of their social media handles and beg for a follow back.)

But alas, the back is blank and yields no answers.

He frowns, facing the words scrawled on the front of the square again. The cogs in his head turn, arriving at a single logical conclusion.

I only know of one possible M.D., but... Is he truly the type to send notes of this nature?

Vil toys with the idea in his head, just as he toys with the letter between his fingers. Ego rises and colors his lenses.

"Fufufu, it seems that even great mages such as he are not immune to my beauty and talent." Vil chuckles, exiting the trailer. His adoring fans await.

He's right about everything, and he doesn't realize how wrong he wants to be.

[starry-blue-echoes]

Okay, I just got here. Sorry for intruding and I'm kind of freaking out about part 4 of Star Swap.

Because there are two Jotaros. Why is nobody talking about the fact that there are two Jotaros? Am I missing something??? 

Unless I am completely failing in Star Swap lore, in order to not become super convoluted and insane, a universe is localized to a Swap… probably? Anyway from what I understand three universes have an event happening in them and Star Swap is a series… except there's also an OLDER Jotaro here in Part 4! which would be the same Jotaro that experienced part 4 as Josuke! Which is causing problems in my brain.

… I was thinking it's either Joseph and Giono is the exception -Thanks to Hermit Purple Rrequiem- and swaps actually jumps across universes making Older Part 4 Jotaro have that Canon backstory.

…Or… hear me out..

 JoJo

 Specifically, Jotaro gets some of that Time Jumpy Amnesia and has not a single fucking clue what happened to himself.

JUST HIM 

No one else

He is the sole one that gets bonk with a forgot stick

For all Jotaro knows: he blacked out, got possessed, and went to Egypt. Everything went well. His mom got cured and people survived, but STILL. said person that possessed him made a bunch of friends and now Jotaro has to deal with them. HE has to rely on other people's information to figure out what the hell HAPPENED.

Jotaro still gets that Battle Experience in and gets those cryptic forgotten fog of memories from the trip But Yeah

Jotaro has no idea what happened to him when that guy was possessing him. Jotaro doesn't know! he doesn't remember shit!!! All people got is theories.

I have a lot of thoughts and this is probably not even an issue.ARGGGG

.. I'm here thinking that for The Star Swap parts 3 and 4 to connect in an interesting way is Memory Blockage or else Part 4 Older Jotaro would have to walk on fucking eggshells if something wasn't blocking his memories because if he talks or says anything that doesn't link up then he breaks time. Jotaro's fault for actively getting involved!

Probably. I don't know!!! I'm just thinking!!! 

you're correct, Parts 3 and 4 have been criminally neglected amongst all this chaos, so this is p e r f e c t

to clarify the universe shenanigans of everything: I've always been thinking that each "set" exists in its own universe. 1 and 6, 2 and 5, and then 3 and 4 all exist in their own sort of "pocket universe" just so we don't need to keep track of of all the inevitable changes and how they influence each other

that being said, funnily enough what you've brought up with Jotaro is REALLY close to what I've been imagining too!

Jotaro is So Fucking Lost when he wakes up back home. He feels like complete and utter shit and is covered in more bandages than he's ever had before. The last thing he remembers is his mom leaving after visiting him in the prison cell after he tried to shoot himself with Star Platinum

only...... when did Star Platinum have a name? When had it stopped being an evil spirit?

when had he stopped being scared of it?

Kakyoin and Joseph are of course INCREDIBLY worried by Jotaro's apparent and very sudden shift in personality. And of course, this panic only multiplies when they find they think Jotaro's stand has been changed as well. They immediately think it's a Stand attack......

but then Holly steps forward and denies this. That this is how Jotaro normally acts and more importantly, that she remembers seeing Star in the jail

now, technically this might be bending the rules a little bit, but I think it would be interesting to give Holly some..... memory weirdness. Maybe we can tie it into her Stand somehow, or maybe it's just For The Plot, but Holly has two distinct sets of memories before she collapsed from her illness

One where Jotaro comes home with her, quiet and awkward and open in a way he hadn't been since he was a child. And another where he refused to leave and shot himself in an attempt to goad a spirit hovering over his shoulder

this then raises the incredibly uncomfortable idea that the Jotaro they'd gone to Egypt with was the imposter. That there had been a fake in their midst the entire time and they never knew. Was he working with Dio? Another group? What was his goal? Why had he done it? And of course, the biggest question of all, where was Jotaro the entire time and why doesn't he remember?

because it's obvious Jotaro was somewhere. He has skills and knowledge he hadn't before. He's different, he's grown in some ways, but has receded in others

Electricity and loud sounds terrify him in a way that can't be described as simple fear

they do what they can to help and figure things out, but they can never find any leads. It actually during these investigations that Jotaro decides to start working with the Speedwagon Foundation on the side and "rekindles" his friendships with the Crusaders

(he finds himself drawn to Kakyoin at times. Or to be more specific, he's drawn to his Stand. The colors and shapes and eyes all feel so tantalizingly familiar, and sometimes he finds himself talking to the being as if expecting a response)

years go by, and the fog around his memories stays. It bothers him less as more time passes and he makes new memories with people who had a headstart on their relationship, but there's always a quiet niggling in the back of his mind about what could've happened

and then a decade later he finds a boy with a different face but identical Stand and temperament to match

[valorant-drabbles]

Hi! Can I request an Jett x gn!reader?

Reader is Iso’s radiant older sibling, and they keep it a secret they are siblings. Reader joined the protocol at same time as Jett. Reader has similar abilities to Iso.

So Iso just joined the protocol and reader is sharing headphones with him and listening to music with him in the kitchen and cooking with him. Jett also sees them training together a lot. Jett (not dating reader yet) gets jealous because reader is cooking and training with someone else.

Thank you!

So Sorry I've been MIA. Being sick really sucks the motivation out of you. But I hope I've made up for it! Enjoy!

Gender neutral reader!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Mild Cursing

Radiant Jealousy

Reader x Jett

The unstoppable duo. That's what the younger agents of the protocol had started to call your team. The team consisting of Jett; the swift, air-riding daredevil... and yourself. The terrifying, defensive master of the battlefield. Together, your abilities meshed perfectly- your ability to counter bullets with your shield when timed correctly, as well as your ability to teleport out of trouble before the enemies' very eyes... only for you to be replaced with Jett, who's always ready to deal with the agents you teleported her to. It was definitely advantageous. You were able to swap the place of yourself with any one of your teammates if they needed a quick escape; and it proved extremely valuable many, many times.

Any mission with the two of you was bound to be an adventure, and often left the other duelists on your team scrambling for kills to make up for how many you and Jett had managed to get together. As expected, there were a few sore losers who dreaded being teamed with this unstoppable duo; namely Yoru, Neon, and even Phoenix on a bad day. Occasional jealousy would brew, but at the end of the day, as long as everybody survived, and as long as the mission resulted in a success... no one could really complain too much.

On a day like any other, the protocol found itself welcoming their newest agent, hailing from China; Iso. The Dead Lilac. Known for his skill with swift assassinations, cleaning up loose ends, and appearing virtually unstoppable from the outside view, And today, that man stood before all the other agents, as Brimstone gave his usual speech regarding the welcoming of new team members.

"Everyone, this young man is Iso. I expect all of you to be courteous towards him, and make him feel right at home."

Brimstone simply gestured to the male, who appeared to have an earbud in, listening to music. Jett couldn't help but let out a slight huff, only to raise her hand.

"Hey, don't we have a rule against wearing earbuds n'stuff during meetings and whatever?" Jett's voice piped up from the crowd of agents, who all exchanged similar nods of agreement.

Upon hearing this, Iso simply plucked the earbud from his ear, and stuffed it into his pocket without much of a fight. After all, it was his first day; getting off on the wrong foot with everybody for something so small wouldn't be the best.

You, however, currently standing beside Jett, jabbed her in the side with your elbow, and gave her a scolding look. "Don't single him out like that. How's he supposed to know? It's his first day!" Narrowing your eyes at your partner, Jett feels a slight flush of embarrassment rush to her cheeks.

"Ah- s... sorry." She apologized gently, though she clearly meant the apology more towards you, not to much towards Iso. But he didn't appear to mind. Brimstone cleared his throat, redirecting attention to himself once more.

"We do have rules like that for a reason, yes. Though we have discovered that Iso is able to preform just as well- perhaps even better- when he's listening to music. So, we've allowed him to bend that rule, as long as it doesn't cause distraction during missions. If any of you wish to get a pass to do the same, you will have to pass a few tests that Viper and myself have designed... just to ensure that you won't get yourself killed in the field if you aren't able to hear the enemy behind you."

Brimstone's eyes had met a few other pairs of eyes within the crowd of agents... mostly those who had proven they weren't able to multitask in such a way in the past. And in short, those agents were the reason Brimstone had initially administered the ban on music on missions in the first place.

"Y/N." Brimstone called you out from the crowd. "I'm going to ask you to show Iso around the headquarters. The training hall, his room, you know the drill."

You nodded towards him as you were instructed to show the newbie around. At the opportunity, Jett's eyes lit up with excitement. Hell yeah, her duo was given a big responsibility! She was so proud. "I'll tag along with you guys! Plus, I'd love the chance to spar with you, Iso!" She'd beamed, only to be cut off from approaching by Viper.

"Jett. Last time you were in charge of showing somebody around, you went so fast that they ended up getting lost for a week. And anytime they asked for directions, you accused them of not paying attention during your tour." Viper had raised an eyebrow disapprovingly, her tone proving to be rather... irritated. More so than usual.

From the crowd of agents, Gekko kicked at the floor with a quiet huff. "... she talks so fast, she may as well be speaking another language." He muttered, mostly to himself. You gave the poor guy a sympathetic look over your shoulder, before turning your attention to your eager duo partner, hand on her shoulder in reassurance.

"I'll be honest, J... Tours aren't your strong suit. But once Iso is more settled, I'm sure he'd be happy to spar with you." You shot her a smile, reassuring Jett despite her mild disappointment at being rejected. Sighing, she simply crossed her arms across her chest, and stepped back into the line of agents. "Fiiiine, do it your way. But if it takes longer than an hour, I'm hunting you down and helping, whether you want it or not!"

You couldn't help but smirk at Jett's impatience. It was always a trait you'd found quite endearing. Irritating at times, sure, but endearing nonetheless. You'd lost count of how many times Jett had gotten herself into a dangerous situation because she didn't want to wait for backup. She was always looking to prove herself, always eager for the opportunity to ace. It was a lot worse when you and her were fresh recruits. And you'd saved her ass dozens of times before she saw the merit in the two of you working together. You couldn't say you hated her impatience, because truthfully? It was the trait of hers that helped bring you two closer together. And it was always oddly cute to watch her bounce in place, twirling her knife in her hand as she was forced to wait.

"If that's settled... everyone is dismissed."

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

You'd been at the protocol for quite awhile; longer than most agents, actually. So the tour with Iso didn't take much time at all, much to Jett's relief. Jett who... may or may not had been following you and Iso from a distance. You hadn't noticed her initially, but once you did, decided not to embarrass her in front of the new recruit, and let her follow you like a puppy.

Though the tour did indeed only take an hour, Iso had quite a few questions regarding some of the agents, and how the training facilities worked... so, you decided to dedicate the rest of the day to answering any and all of Iso's questions. You even showed him around the kitchen, so he'd know where everything was if he ever needed to make himself something to eat.

Suffice to say... Jett... didn't like that. At all.

Jett was basically the in-house cook, and only trusted a few select people to help her if offered. You were one of those people. Hell, she'd let you take over cooking if she was sick, and have faith you'd do her dishes justice.

And there she was, glaring daggers from around the corner at Iso. Who was taking notes on where Jett kept the kettle, strainer, spices... Even though usually Jett could appreciate someone taking kitchen care seriously, she couldn't figure out why seeing Iso there with you in the kitchen made her skin crawl.

Maybe it was because, aside from training, the kitchen was where you and Jett spent most of your time. Even if it was just being sat on the counter, drinking coffee late into the night, because insomnia haunts most of the younger agents. And seeing you hop up onto the counter, offering to make Iso some tea how he likes it... Ugh. She hated it, she hated it, she hated it!

"Whatever." Dismissively, Jett had let out a stubborn huff of irritation, and headed towards the training hall. Training was always a good way of getting her mind off of things... though you were often on her mind if you weren't by her side training as well. Okay, so maybe you were always on her mind. She couldn't help it! She always just figured that was the cost of having a kick-ass duo; always worrying, thinking about how to improve your guys' performance... wondering why you were so damn chummy with Iso-

God. Jett needed to let off some steam before she imploded.

------

The next few hours of her free time was spent perfecting her knife throws, as well as some general aerobatic moves that you had been brainstormed for her. Ways to use her radiant power more without causing too much destruction. Last thing the protocol needed was a tornado within its walls.

Though the hours passed mindlessly, Jett still couldn't figure out why the hell she was so agitated by Iso's mere existence. She was always hyped when a new duelist joined their ranks, to the point where she'd try and take them under her wing if they needed help discovering their fighting style. She took a lot of pride in her ability to help her fellow agents, and yet...

As if summoned by the mere thought, Iso happened to enter the training hall, you following by his side, explaining one thing or another. Jett wasn't sure. She hadn't been close enough to hear your conversation- but she didn't like it.

"Oh- you finally here for that spar?" She'd flashed a grin in the direction of Iso. She was itching to put him in his place- though that thought alone was quite a strange one for her. Put him in his place? He hadn't done anything-... had he?

Iso himself looked quite surprised to see Jett in the hall, and had held his hands up in a faux surrender, showing he had no interest in sparring. "Oh, you were serious-- I mean, we can totally do that another time. But Y/N was going to train with me. To help me figure out how to best use my abilities in combat, maybe using them in combination with someone else's abilities......"

Iso's voice had quickly been drowned out by Jett's own thoughts. You... were going to train with Iso? What, alone? Doing what she usually did with her duelists? Finding his fighting style?

You could see the displeased look on Jett's face, as she wasn't the best at masking her feelings for too long. Flashing your partner a nervous smile, you approached Jett. "I know Iso's abilities pretty well myself, so finding his style probably won't take too long- but we can train elsewhere if you're busy here-?" You'd offered quietly, not wanting to further upset your duo. But it was a bit too late for that.

Grabbing your arm, Jett forcefully pulled you towards the door. "Get some target practice in while I have a chat with your 'trainer'." She'd growled towards Iso, who looked more confused than anything. But he didn't question further, and definitely didn't want to witness an angry Jett in action- so he'd grabbed a gun and started shooting some targets to warm up.

Dragging, dragging, dragging on; You couldn't exactly do much to escape Jett's grasp- her upper body strength was impressive for someone of her size. "Jett-- Jett!" You call her name, trying to get her to stop dragging you, but to no avail. She didn't stop until she knew you two were completely alone. In an empty hallway.

"Jett, what the hell is up with you today? You're being more of a jerk than usual." You scolded in a hushed tone once Jett had finally let go of you, moving to fold your arms over your chest. Your body language was enough for Jett to know you were beyond irritated, but you were holding it together for her sake.

Jett just turned to glare at you, fists clutched as she struggled for a few moments. Trying to find the words to articulate how she was feeling- Feelings were difficult for her to explain most of the time. So before she could open her mouth, you held your hand up to stop her. "And I'm not going to listen if you start yelling."

God, she wanted to punch you for saying that. But it was a boundary you'd set with her after the first few arguments you two had. Things would just escalate and escalate, and neither of you would listen. Talking over each other so one of you could be heard. And even if she was angry, Jett always respected your boundaries. Which meant in this case that she wasn't going to shout.

"Right. Right right right right right." Jett exhaled deeply, and began to shake her hands in a bit of a stim. Shake the anger out, that's what she often did. And more often than not, it didn't help too much. It only subsided how much she wanted to punch things. But it would at least get her through the conversation.

"You're kind of... how can I put this lightly... driving me crazy. In a bad way." Jett articulated slowly, though was quick to see your displeasure from the look in your eyes once she'd said it. Huffing, she continued. "You're, like... being all nice n' shit to Iso, which is fine or whatever... But you were crossing some lines."

"... I'm sorry, how the hell was I crossing lines? I was showing Iso around, like Brim told me to?" You furrowed your eyebrows slightly in confusion, not knowing if you should still be irritated or not. What was going on in her head...?

"Okay, uh, example. You were showing Iso around the kitchen. My kitchen. You didn't think to ask me if I wanted to show him around the kitchen at least? Show where I hide the good flour?" Jett urged, though you couldn't help but snicker slightly.

"Jett. It's the Protocol's kitchen. And it's pretty small. There's not much to really show him. There just wasn't enough to show to justify bringing you in."

"Fine! Okay, that's fine. Just don't cook any of our meals with him, and we're fine. See? I'm being reasonable!" She had a forced smile on her face, but it was quite clear she was struggling to keep her composure. It felt like she was jumping all over the place with her logic, and she'd just started.

"Another example! You... were going to train with him."

"... Jett. I train with everybody." You shot her down almost immediately, to which you could only raise an eyebrow in mild amusement. She was really grasping at straws here for excuses to be angry, and none of them were really... viable?

"But you said, and I QUOTE-- … okay, I can't remember exactly what you said, but you mentioned something about helping Iso figure out how to use his abilities in combat." Her teal eyes bore into yours, and there, finally, you could sees a glimmer of the real problem.

Conflicted. Hesitant. Envious.

"That's my thing. No, Not just my thing. It's our thing. You were the one who inspired me to figure out unique ways to use my radiant powers in combination with other peoples' abilities. To figure out my fighting style, and helping others find theirs! That's how we became a duo! And sure, I took credit for it a lot of the time... but you were the reason I started helping people in the first place! To the point even Viper trusted me to help recruits figure out their style!" She'd began to pace back and forth as she spoke, another mild stim. If she kept her body moving in some way, it helped her thoughts flow a lot smoother.

"So why-" Jett suddenly turned to you, pinning you to the wall with both her hands on either side of your head. "Why did you try to do it without me? Were you going to... I don't know? Be his duo? The way we do things is really, really efficient, it doesn't need to change! So... Don't you dare think for a second that you're replacing me for that-- that..." Her voice trailed off, as she noticed a smirk slowly rest on your features. "Wh... What the hell are you making that face for?"

"You're jealous."

Those two words were enough to make Jett fly back a few feet, as if it physically impacted her, blasting her away from you dramatically. And as the realization slowly dawned on her, Jett's face slowly grew a bright red shade. That... would explain a lot about how she'd been feeling. She gripped her own shirt, eyes locked on the floor, suddenly all out of things to say. Rendered genuinely speechless.

"Wh... What am I jealous about?" She asked after a few moments, looking towards you for answers. Jett really didn't know why she was jealous. And you couldn't help but find that... oddly adorable, despite how scared she looked with this information out in the open.

"I don't know if I can answer that for you, J." You admitted with a slight smile, slowly approaching as if she were a startled dear in a beartrap. "But... If I had to guess, you're jealous that... I'm spending all this time with Iso, doing all the stuff you and I usually do?"

Jett's gaze remained glued to the floor tiles, hands stuck to her side. The burning feeling on her face wouldn't go away. She was completely embarrassed. Something so simple... made her upset? Groaning, she covered her face with her hands, turning away from you to hide her shame further. "M... Maybe. I think that... isn't too far off." She didn't want to admit it... though she kind of had to if she wanted you to know why she was upset.

"Jett..." Your smile softens on your face as you take a few steps towards her, raising your hand to hold her cheek. Your thumb caresses her cheek as her eyes flick towards yours. "You're an idiot. You really think I'd replace you like that? After our years of experience together?" The question caused Jett to gaze down at the ground again, taking a moment to clear her throat a bit to find some kind of rebuttal.

"You were just... I don't know. You got along really well with Iso, and clicked pretty fast." She let out a soft sigh, absentmindedly leaning against the hand to her cheek, almost affectionately. You couldn't help but compare her to a cat in that moment.

"Of course we get along well. He's my little brother. Showing him around was the best way to help him feel acclimated, after all-"

Jett felt her thoughts grind to a halt.

"Your... brother?"

You could see the mix of realization, embarrassment, and relief in her eyes. It would've made you laugh at how cute it was, but decided that, for Jett's sake, you'd hold back.

"Yeah. I told you my little brother would be joining the protocol a few months back. Did you forget, or were you not paying attention?" You raise an eyebrow in sheer amusement, as you watch Jett's expression freeze and then scramble to find an answer, to which, she couldn't find one.

"I... I am so sorry, Y/N. I completely forgot." She whispered, grabbing both of your hands within her own, holding them tight. "I'm such an idiot- and I was going to yell at you over this? Please, please, please forgive me!" Jett practically pleaded, to which you couldn't resist laughing anymore.

This precious idiot, you thought. You let out a content sigh, squeezing Jett's hands for a moment as you take a step closer. "Drill this into your head, okay, dummy? You're irreplaceable. Nobody is ever going to take the place in my heart that belongs to you."

Before Jett could even consider thinking too much into your words, you'd leant forward and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. From such a quick action, you could swear she was about to float off or launch into the air like a rocket. Frozen, but shaking.

"Jett?" You called out softly with a slight grin across your face, the cogs in her brain whirling, trying to catch up with what was happening. And the second everything clicked, Jett got the biggest, goofiest smile on her face as she proceeded to grab your face and pepper it with as many little kisses as she could before you'd push her away, laughter filling the hollow halls.

You promised Jett to spend the rest of the evening with her after training with Iso, to make up for the time she demanded back.

And fell asleep, wrapped in blankets, watching movies on your laptop. The following days, the other agents swore they'd never seen Jett so happy.

[thewildwaffle]

A Capella

I'm hoping the writing block I've been slogging through the past two months is lightening up and I'll get to some more of the prompts I've been sent!

*** *** *** *** ***

"We’re on a time crunch people! I need everyone to step it up if we’re going to get this all together in time for the ceremony!” Sevahn marched stiffly through the bustle of his crew as they rolled in large boxes of decorations and gear, strung garlands of flowers across the banquet hall, and laid wires, cords, and ropes for the laser light shows and entertainment equipment.

He eyed their efforts scrutinously and made sure everything lined up with the charts in his claws. This was easily the biggest client he’d ever been hired by, and he would be flarged if tonight wasn’t absolutely perfect for them!

“Bexts, those merkel blossoms are not the right color! They totally clash with the color pallet I sent you.”

The tall silver kloxan in question stopped arranging the bouquets and stared blankly at him.

“Do your optics need to be reset?” Sevahn marched up to the robotic figure and pulled out a pallet card. “Look, these are far too light. Some of them are nearly white! I specifically asked for rich purples and reds. Swap them out, inject them with dye, or paint them if you must, just get me the right colors within the next 15 mentiks!”

Without another word, Sevahn spun on his heels and was off to inspect the stage setup. Several crew members and techs were darting between various marks and consoles. By the looks of things, the hanging microphones and lights were just about ready. Techs were also laying wires for a couple microphones sitting on stands at the front of the stage. They were a bit obsolete (technology and usage-wise) what with the hanging mics, but some of tonight's featured vocal performers had specifically requested them.

Speaking of which…

“Has anyone heard anything from the humans?”

A booka tech by the name of Nuree perked her whiskers, “Oh yeah, I’ve heard them before! Last cycle I set up for one of their concerts on Vituka 4. They didn't use any instruments, but you wouldn’t know that if you were only listening! They were amazing!”

A few other on the crew chuckled a bit, and the Nuree’s fur flickered and reddened a bit as she realized everyone was listening.

“I meant, has anyone heard from the humans’ whereabouts? They were supposed to be here already for rehearsals.”

“They’re in the back,” a toanoaktree mumbled out slowly as they reached up to adjust the high-hanging mics. “I believe they said they were going to arrange a ‘green room’ and unpack their gear.”

With a curt nod and a short “thank you,” Sevahn was on his way to search for the humans. He’d worked with other groups of human performers before. Several of his recent clients had been caught up in the human craze that seemed to be spreading through the galaxy. Everyone wanted to hire them- security companies, shipping unions, exploratory associations, art and science guilds, and on and on.

The entertainment industry was, by no means, any different. Humans, as it turns out, love to perform and have a wide array of interesting talents. Sevahn had planned parties where humans had been hired to do anything from singing, dancing, playing instruments, swinging from elevated platforms in various acrobatic fashions, throwing multiple projectiles into the air, and “juggling” to keep them aloft, etc.

Eight cycles ago, there’d been a group hired by the Magensi Syndicate to perform what they called, “magic” at their yearly Harvest Festival. Sevahn had been busy with keeping other parts of the celebration running smoothly, but he’d been able to catch a few snippets of the show. There’d been some creative sleight-of-hand tricks that even Sevahn had to admit were pretty impressive.

The grand finale was by far the most… memorable. How by all that is bright and shining did the human sneak a “school bus” into the act and get it on stage without Sevahn or his crew knowing about it?! And what’s more- where the flarg did it disappear to after he removed the tarp?! He still hadn’t recovered from that.

Tonight’s ensemble of humans, however, was a singing group. Simple enough. There shouldn’t be any buses, school or otherwise, involved in their act.

Sevahn quickly found where the humans had set up their “green room.” It was less of a room and more of a partially sectioned-off alcove. It looked like someone hung up some cloth partitions as curtains to add a bit of additional privacy. He could hear them talking and laughing as he approached. He rustled the makeshift curtains a bit to alert them of his presence before he entered.

“Come in,” one of the voices called out.

As Sevahn dipped through the curtains, he quickly took in the surroundings. The six humans were spread out and pulling equipment and packages from various bags and wheeled boxes.

“Hello, welcome,” Sevahn looked around to try to identify the manager, Marisol, whom he had spoken to earlier on a comm call. She had her back to him at first, handing out small wrapped packages to the others.

“Ah, Akeno Sevahn, a pleasure to meet you face to face,” Human Marisol turned and stood to greet him with a short bow of the head and hand on her chest. Sevahn paused for a bit. He was used to greeting humans in their various methods, but this was the first one had greeted him in Austral Akeno fashion.

He blinked in surprise for only a mentik before returning the gesture. “It’s a pleasure to have you here with us. My team and I are at your disposal. What can I help with first to get you all set up for tonight’s performance?”

“Where’s the nearest water dispenser?” One of the humans, a tall male with a deep voice asked.

Sevahn gestured behind himself. “Just around the corner next to the catering station.

The human nodded thanks and left in that direction carrying a large empty bottle. Sevahn looked expectantly at the others.

“What time do I need to have everyone ready for mic checks?” Human Marisol smiled.

Sevahn smiled back automatically then pulled back his shoulders to attention. “Any time you’re ready,” He needed to keep a professional stance and tone. “Our first guests aren’t set to arrive for another four moorts, so there’s no rush. Our sound techs just ask that you allow them to set levels for each instrument individually, and afterward, Biert, our stage manager will come by to schedule instrument trades or swaps if you need.”

“Oh,” Human Marisol’s eyes widened a bit as her head tilted slightly to the side. She looked to the other humans in the room who all kind of chuckled quickly under their breath. “I don’t think that will be necessary. We won’t be swapping instruments.”

“You… uh, you… what?” Sevahn frowned. He looked around for instrument cases he could point out.

There weren’t any. None that he could see or recognize at least. The humans watched him with varying levels of amusement slipping into their features before Marisol broke Sevahn’s confused silence. “I thought you knew… we discussed it on the comms? We’re an a capella group?” She gestured to the others in the room who were now all smiling very widely, a few had to cover their mouths to hide laughter.

A capella. Sevahn remembered her saying that. He remembered it being said by others. There are so many different kinds of music that humans perform, he just assumed it was just the name of a particular style among so many others. He glanced around the room once again. No instruments. Is that what a capella meant? Not completely unusual, he supposed, he’d seen performances where singers would carry on parts of or even entire songs without the use of instruments. But to have an entire performance on this scale with no accompaniment? Surely not.

“I apologize for the misunderstanding,” Sevahn could feel the scales in his face warm slightly as the humans continued to try to not laugh at him. “I must admit I am not entirely familiar with the concept. Do you, uh, do you have pre-recorded music to perform with? I can personally make sure that gets to the sound techs right away.”

The curtain rustled and the human from before returned with his bottle now full of water from the dispenser. “Woah, look out! Sorry!” He nearly lost his balance trying to avoid running into Sevahn.

With their attention no longer focused solely on Sevah, a few of the other humans pulled out equally large bottles. One held theirs out expectantly with a huge toothy grin. Sevahn nearly flinched at the display, but he remembered that humans sometimes bare their teeth like that when they’re happy.

“What?” the recently returned human mockingly scoffed at the proffered bottle. “Your legs broken? You heard the director, the dispensers just around the corner. Get off your lazy butt!”

The responding sound was one Sevahn was not used to hearing. It was some sort of long drawn-out whine, stretching down in pitch then curling back up with some sort of broken, growly note. The others laughed at it. Sevahn stared straight ahead, mouth slightly pursed. Humans made a wide, wide range of sounds, hence the hired group in front of him, but he hoped that sound was not part of their show.

Marisol shook her head as her band broke into teasings and joking negotiations for water. She pulled Sevahn aside and smiled at him. He couldn’t help but instantly smile back. His scales warmed a little bit again.

“We’ve got our music sorted,” she explained over the din of her band. “No instruments, just us. Biert’s got our song list. We have a few things to unpack in here and we’ll be ready for a mic check and run through in about five moortiks, if that’s alright?”

Sevahn blinked a bit, then nodded his head. “Alright,” he straightened his posture again and gave a nod before heading for the curtained exit, “I will inform Biert. She’ll get you sorted with that when you’re ready. Let her or myself know if there’s anything else you need.”

“We appreciate it, thanks,” Marisol nodded politely as he left. As soon as the curtain settled behind him, he could hear her voice change as she turned to her band and began giving orders and try to wrangle them back onto the task.

What an odd group. He wondered if it was actually the same group Booka Nuree claimed she saw perform on Vituka 4. In any case, they were the group that the client had hired tonight, so at least someone must like their instrument-less performance.

The rest of the setup ran perfectly. Not that Sevahn would accept any less. Soon enough, the banquet hall filled with quests, welcoming remarks, and slightly overly-long speeches were given, guests of honor were recognized, and culinary masterpieces were distributed. Roaming entertainers were applauded as they wove through tables, performing tricks and feats, telling jokes, or showing off artistic displays.

And finally, the lights dimmed. Someone was speaking on stage and the guests began cheering. Sevahn didn’t notice at first, at the moment, he'd been pulled away to sort out a misunderstanding between the venue manager and one of the catering assistants. Having avoided a minor waste disposal crisis in the kitchens, Sevahn returned to the main banquet hall with a small sigh.

As he stepped into the large room, he immediately noticed all eyes in the hall were glued to the main stage. He paused. According to his schedule, this should be the main entertainment. Marisol’s a capella singers. He looked. Sure enough, there were five humans on stage, with a smiling Marisol in the wings, just barely visible from this angle, nodding her head to the beat of the song.

But what really shocked him was the song itself. They had no instruments. He was watching them with his own eyes and he could tell they had nothing accompanying them. But that’s not what his ears heard!

There were notes that sounded like they should be beyond human vocal cord capability. They ranged from bone-shakingly deep to cloud-piercingly high. There were rhythms, beats, and harmonies that came together like the humans were weaving the very sound waves into a stunning tapestry.

Sevahn closed his eyes to listen. He’d directed countless events where human musicians had performed. He enjoyed them with few exceptions. In all honesty, he actually was often too wrapped up overseeing various tasks or enacting the backup plans for failed backup plans to really enjoy the shows. But whenever he could get a moment of peace like this, he always stopped to savor the performances. And this one was one that seemed to have also everyone frozen to listen.

He’d never heard this song before. It was likely a human song, so it's unfamiliarity was not surprising. There was something about it though. It made him feel like he should start singing along. The words themselves sounded simple and easy to follow. They carried through and floated between notes like they were soaring.

He opened his eyes again, and for a moment, his brain momentarily protested at the visual evidence of there being only humans on the stage. Something about that felt exhilarating. He could have sworn he could hear a kloxan flute, or maybe an orchestral barelt, but his eyes told him otherwise.

He knew he couldn’t stand here all night, as much as he wished he could. There was always something that would call for his immediate attention and pull him away. For now, though, not a soul seemed to be doing anything but listening and watching. After a while, Sevahn could start to make out which sounds were coming from which human. The tall male who had first gone to fill his water bottle earlier was the one creating the resonating bass notes. He couldn’t tell which of the two humans to his right were the ones carrying the main melody. It was mesmerizing to watch and hear.

As the humans finished the song, the effects of its spell over the audience slowly came undone. Sevahn joined in with all the applause. He felt silly now about being so apprehensive before, and yet at the time, it seemed so reasonable to question how humans could perform an entire show without a single instrument. As it turns out, humans can make themselves into their own instruments just fine. He wondered just how many sounds they could learn and mimic to incorporate into their music.

As the cheering died down, the humans began their next song. Sevahn forced himself to move on to make his rounds through the banquet hall, listening as he went. He recognized this song. It was a popular ballad throughout the central systems. This time, the humans were really laying it on thick how much their voices could imitate a multitude of instruments. He had to turn his head several times as he walked to make sure they hadn’t pulled out a set of strings or percussions. They of course hadn’t, but instead started moving around the stage with a well-choreographed routine.

He paused once again to watch. Maybe it would be fine to just take a break a while longer and enjoy this surprising show. After all, at this point, the entire banquet hall could burn down, but as long as the humans could finish their show, tonight would still be considered a success.

He hoped he directed more large events like this in the future where Marisol's group would be hired again.

[imlivinginyourtrashcan]

back at it again with the swap au

In this version, Giovanni is a mundie! Part of the crime family, The Potages! Only containing Gio, his two moms, and his very concerned Epithet having cousins, The Roughhouses

Now for what you've all been waiting for:

The mugger shrunk back. W-what the hell was she supposed to do in a situation like this?! Her eyes darted over towards the two teens cowering next to the backpack. Desperately, she grabbed the sea urchin looking one and held him at knifepoint, he pantomimed in mute protest.

"St-stop right there!" She shouted. "Don't you care what happens to these two?!"

Giovanni's grin did not falter for a second, in fact, it had gotten wider. More gremlin esc, you could say. He flicked his arms, hiding them inside his sleeves. "You think a hostage can save your ass? HAH!" He barked. "Go 'head, don't need 'em alive to sell their stuff, best thing they can do is postpone the inevitable by a few seconds, then I'll have three more body's under my belt." He flicked his sleeves, several switchblades coming out from inside, dragging them across the alley walls, his foot steps driving into the mugger's head like a mysterious ticking noise

Tik

Tik

Tik

"Is five thousand dollars worth their lives? Is it worth yours? You gonna wake up with five thousand in your pocket after you watch two teenagers die in front of ya? Or ya gonna let yourself die? These are aaaaalll hypothetical, it don't matter to me! It's your choice 'Sides," Giovanni stopped, eyes gazing the mugger with a serious, shaded away expression, like in an anime. "I've killed for less."

Suddenly, Giovanni charged the mugger head on until she ran out of the alleyway, screaming her head off like she had just saw five horror movies all at once.

Giovanni stopped, waiting until dead silence was all that remained.

Once there was reassurance that she was fully gone, the two ex-hostages looked at their saviour.

Giovanni Potage did not have an Epithet

Giovanni Potage had never been in a real fight in all seventeen years of his life.

Giovanni Potage started to laugh out of panic

"HOOOLY SMOKES!!! HAHAHAHA!!!" He spat quickly, hiding the knives in his sleeves while he gripped the wall. "That was SO SCARY! Hah! I may be laughing but on the inside I'm dying!"

Giovanni hadn't lied to the mugger fully about his background, his side of the family were a bunch of criminals, growing up learning how to scare, cheat, and lie his way through life. He tries his best to put all that behind him, though. If he had an Epithet, like his parents, he would use all these tricks all he wanted, but, he was a Mundie. So that means he has to lay low.

He desperately wheezed, hacking up whatever was in his throat. "Oh my god what a rush! I straight up thought we were all gonna croak! I know I kept my cool, but I swear If anyone touched me I would turn to dust."

Rick wrapped his arms around Giovanni, crying big stupid tears. "GIOVANNII!!!! MY SECOND BESTEST FRIEND!!! THANK YOU!!! YOU'VE SAVED US FROM THE MONEY HUNGRY WENCH!!!!!"

Giovanni awkwardly patted his back, then Lorelai was dragged into the hug, Rick nestling his head in the middle, tears falling onto the concreate.

"You too, Lorelai! I am so sorry the woman had drenched your work! But the best thing is that.... we are ALL HERE!!"

Ah, the beloved Neo Trio. Standing near each other, all three looked like Neapolitan ice cream, Lorelai and Rick's hair even made it so some of the ice-cream got into their section, authentic!

Giovanni Potage and Rick Shades, Lorelai's best friends, she cared about them more than anything else.

Now for RICK! Our beloved Rich little Sea Urchin! In the au, he's a Mundie, much like Giovanni. Being homeschooled most of his life, Rick never really got people, and people never really got him. He later finds two new BEST FRIENDS! Giovanni and Lorelai.

The good stuff:

"Hey.."

"Oh- eh- hello!" Rick waved awkwardly like a robot, as he started to sweat from the very thought of human interaction.

"Nice lookin' bag ya got there..."

The 'bag' she was referring to was Rick's murse, it was a cute little purple purse in the shape of a sea urchin. Rick had a... strange obsession with sea creatures, sea slugs, cephalopods, isopods, shrimps, crabs, you name it? He loved it. Sometimes he would tell random strangers facts only he thinks are cool.

"Thank you!" Rick held it up "It's a sea urchin! By the way, did you know that the sea urchin uses the hydraulic pressure of water moving in and out of their tube feet to move about slowly. They can also propel themselves along with their spines. That's pretty impressive, considering sea urchins don't actually have brains!" Rick info dumped, not picking up on the fact the woman clearly did not care.

"Look's expensive..."

"Oh indeed it was! I had to personally commission it!" Rick grinned, like a glitched character in a video game. The air got too thick with awkward silence to where he had to leave. "Well! Bye!" He quickly made a break for the exit, but the woman blocked her path.

"Who'd you get to commission it for ya? Might be lookin t'get one.."

"Oh! I paid that nice man at the Baxter's crafting store! No clue what his name was, but I'm sure he'd be happy to make it for you!" The bells in his head were not going off when they really should be

"Ooooooh Baxter's? Gee, I don't think I can afford it"

"Hm! Troubling!" Rick blinked, pulling out a book about Marine Biology from his murse. "Anyways, do you want to hear about 101 Ocean Wildlife Facts?"

Rick did not wait for an answer before flipping through it, clearing his throat, he read the first fact. "Number one! Many bony fish have more than just one set of nostrils. The nostrils of fish also do not open into the back of the mouth like those of mammals, and are not, therefore, for breathing. They lead into organs of smell, which are very sensitive in order for fish to detect the presence of food in the water at considerable distances. More nostrils = more smelling! Huh! Well isn't that neat?"

Rick, once again, did not wait for a reply from the woman. "Ahem, number two-"

The woman didn't think twice before trying to snatch the murse from Rick, making him grab for it with a whine. "Heyyy! That's mine!"

"Not for long!" The woman replied, tugging it. Rick shimmied his way out of her grasp, clutching the murse closely as he shoved the book back inside it.

"You bully! You could've broken it! I know just how to deal with you!" Rick declared, inching closer to the woman before embracing her. "You are only mean because of what society has done! I will be the first to break your mind away from these patterns of violence and thievery! I... forgive you!"

The woman swiftly snatched up the boy by his aquarium back pack, causing him to flail and wail.

"NOOOOOOOO!!! VHS TAPES!!!!! YOU LIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

[newtonsheffield]

In how it glistened, surely Mary and Violet hire someone of the name Lucy, who is new to town and for some odd reason Little Greggy seems to always be at the shop.

Not little Greggy, always swapping shifts with Hyacinth so he can work with Lucy Abernathy. At first, because he wanted to ask her about her friend, Hermione Watson, but after about three weeks he realised he hadn't asked a single question about Hermione and hadn't even thought about her in days. All he wanted was to get to work on Saturday morning so he could ask Lucy what she thought of the comic he recommended, and he wondered if he could convince Mary to give him the first lunch so he could run down to the bakery and get one of those sandwiches that Lucy really likes so he could give it to her as a sort of gift.

He likes Lucy, he thinks she's funny in a sly sort of way, and she's so beautiful it makes his heart pound in his chest when she nudges him for teasing her when she asked if she should sort the books alphabetically or by Dewey Decimal number. Her dark hair falls in her eyes, and her lips curl upwards in a smirk and everything about her is neat as a pin, and he's messy and slapdash but he could be a good boyfriend. He thinks he could be a good boyfriend.

But it wouldn't hurt, he didn't think to go to the best husbands he knows and get a little bit of advice. So he waits until Hyacinth's out of the way and can't tease him anymore and clears his throat, ruffling his hair when his Dad looked up from his book.

"Alright Greggy?"

"Um-yeah, I- I think So."

Anthony raised his eyebrow, "It doesn't look like it. Everything okay?"

Gregory cleared his throat, bunching up all his courage. "I just- I wondered- maybe- what do-? How do girls like you to Dress?"

His dad looked a bit startled, but Anthony chuckled, "You got your eye on someone, bud?"

"I-yeah? And she... she always looks so pretty and I just... I want to maybe look good so she'll think I'm... So she might think I'm cute, at least."

His Dad sighed, smiling gently, "Mate, you look great, and when it's the right person, you shouldn't have to change anything. Look at Ant-"

"Cheers Dad." Anthony chuckled, rolling his eyes,

"I only meant, that you and Kate bicker like no tomorrow, but at the end of the day, you wouldn't want it any other way right?"

Anthony's smile softened as he shook his head, "She is the most insane woman I've ever met, and I'd never want her any other way."

Gregory frowned, sighing, "So your advice is just be yourself?! You two don't know anything!"

So he goes into work on Saturday, with a new shirt on, that he'd picked out especially, a green one, he thought she'd like, and he cleaned his yellow sneakers especially, and he's made sure his hair was laying flat-ish and he went into work with Lucy's favourite sandwich clenched in his fist and his heart broke in his chest.

Art Haselby from the year above was leaning over the counter, whispering in Lucy's ear while she flushed and then nodded, her eyes wide when she caught sight if him, standing in the doorway.

"There's pikachu!"

He tried not to frown at the nickname she'd given him, that now felt like a barb. He was Pikachu, and Art Haselby was tall, and all the girls swooned when he walked past, and on the rugby team, while Gregory wasn't anything like that.

Gregory tried to smile, his legs numb when he walked through the shop, his heart cracking in his chest. "Hiya. I got you a sandwich for your lunch."

Lucy smiled at him, "That's sweet, thank you."

He shrugged, turning to Art, "Alright, Mate?"

"I'm great, thanks." He smiled, still leaning over the counter, nudging Lucy's hand with his fingers. "Just keeping Lucy company until you got here."

Lucy shot him a look that Gregory didn't quite understand. "Well, push off then, I'll see you later."

Art left, his eyebrows wiggling, "Can't wait."

Awkward silence swelled between them as Gregory shoved his backpack into the backroom, tears stinging in his eyes.

"You look smart today." Lucy chuckled when he came out, "Is there mayhaps, a lucky lady in town whose caught your eye?"

Gregory shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest feeling stupid, "Nope, guess not. I think she likes someone else."

Lucy smiled sadly, "Shit, sorry. You're... a real sweetheart, it's her loss."

"Don't think she sees it that way."

He spent the rest of his shift hiding in the back room until his mum mercifully arrived to save him, shaking his head when she looked expectantly at him, sprinting out the door with his skateboard, without even looking back at Lucy.

"How'd it go, Greggy?" Anthony's voice followed him up the stairs, perched behind his dad.

"Leave me alone!" He called back as the door slammed and finally, the tears fell as he tore his shirt off and ripped it into a hundred pieces.

[acosmicblizzard]

Hi Cosmic!! I have been looking at your work and I've liked it alot! (Ghost manor Au is my fav btw)

I haven't requested before but I'd like to request something now :D (You don't have to accept obviously:] )

I'd like to request Edgar Valden relationship headcannons....( romantic ) With a TWIST.

Edgar and reader face a fake friendly!! The survivors are up to your choice and the hunter is too. I haven't seen someone request something like this so I wanted to try!!

Putting everything aside you don't have to rush at all and take care for yourself before anything!! I wish the author a good day/night!

Hello! Thank you so much for the support, i'm very glad you like my ghost manor au series! I'll gladly accept this, sorry if it isn't up too your standards but hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Edgar and Reader against a fake friendly

Warnings: None

Story type: General hcs

Pairings/Characters: Edgar Valden - Painter x Gn!Reader, Margaretha Zelle - Female Dancer, Yidhra - Dream Witch, Demi Bourbon - Barmaid

Banner art credit: smol_kia on twitter

(possible ooc, made during school so possibly lower quality then my others works.)

It was a normal friendly match at first, Margaretha and you were decoding while the dream witch Yidhra stood nearby. Spraying back whenever the survivors sprayed at her and emoting back when they emoted at her. She had seen almost everyone that match other then Edgar who had been keeping his distance from the hunter and had been naturally distrustful of the dream witch. He had constantly been trying to whisk you away from everyone else. In reality, he just wanted to spend alone time with you and let the others decode, maybe even paint you due to the time he had In this match.

You and Margaretha talked as you decoded, joking around and laughing at what one another said. The female dancer continued making small discussion with you until suddenly the leaches Yidhra had on both you and Margaretha moved closer. You didn't think much of it until the leach suddenly swung on Margaretha and terror shocked her, the familiar sound of bells signaling the hunter gaining their persona ability ringing all throughout the map. At first you were confused, maybe Yidhra just wanted to hold Margaretha or wanted the points for downing someone? You went to go heal her until Yidhra swapped to the leach that had connected to you and swung on you as well.

You started getting suspicious of the dream witches intentions as both you and Margaretha were leached onto again. Both of the leaches were soon left inactive as Yidhra moved to find the other two survivors with the leaches standing as guards just in case one of you got up. This was the worst time ever to not run self pickup for some extra healing personas, you weren't sure if Margaretha had it either. You heard the familiar voice of your boyfriend shout "stay put I'm coming!" From a small distance away. At least the baron of the manor gave the survivors a form of communication the hunters could not hear, in this realm this form of communication was crucial. Not a second later you heard the voice of Demi shout "The hunter is nearby!" Edgar quickened up his pace and eventually arrived to where both you and Margaretha were downed.

He didn't pay any attention to Margaretha and started healing you first. "Dummy, how could you fall for that! It's Yidhra for gods sake!" Edgar shouted out trying to cover up the concern in his voice with irritation. He was honestly a bit pissed but not exactly at you, it was more directed towards Yidhra. He was irritated and annoyed at the fact this hunter decided to try and act merciful to only backstab people later. He's had to deal with a lot of that all throughout his life due to his status but having it be done to you made his blood boil. He finds it quite pathetic such a powerful god is resorting to this to win matches. He soon got you up and both of you went to heal Margaretha as you heard Demi get downed across the map. You needed to heal quickly and get these leaches removed as soon as possible. A few seconds later the barmaid was chaired as you got Margaretha up. The second you did Yidhra swapped back to one of her leeches and immediately went for Margaretha. You attention snapped back to Edgar as you told him to go save demi as you would focus on ciphers and supporting Margarethas kite when you could.

3 ciphers later and things weren't looking any better, Margaretha died, Demi was kiting for as long as she could on last chair, and Edgar was across the map from you working on a cipher. You were hoping both you and Edgar could get a prime in time for Demi as you typed on the ciphers keys, rapidly trying to decode it. You heard Edgar's cipher pop across the map as you shouted "Priming!" Hoping that Demi wouldn't get downed before you could prime the cipher. That hopeful wish wouldn't come true though, the barmaid was soon chaired and screamed as she got shot into the sky. You sighed and continued working on the cipher, slightly relieved it was almost finished. That relief was cut short though as you heard the sound and red cloud signifying a teleport. You panicked and ran from the cipher shouting that the hunter was nearby you. Edgar quickly responded with stay put I'm coming. The painter ran as fast as he could towards where your cipher was, as much as he wanted to support your kite and whisk you away from danger he couldn't. Minutes passed before you got downed by the dream witch and as soon as you were downed the primed cipher was popped and you were back up on your feet. As long as Edgar was able to get a exit gate open this could be a tie. Edgar soon opened a gate and kept saying follow me, running towards your location with a painting on the ready. 5 minutes of stressful kiting and close calls later you two barely squeaked by with a tie.

After the match ended, Edgar whisked you away to his room. The second the door closed behind the two of you Edgar was all over you, checking for any wounds that sustained after the matches. "I can't believe that woman, a god and she does this?! Simply pathetic!" You sighed and shook your head, "It's alright Ed, the match is over now. Just relax okay?" You put your hand over his as a slight blush came to the painters face. He quickly shook this off though and soon a frown came to his face. "Are you okay though, my muse?" It was rare for Edgar to express his emotions truly through words, mostly hiding his true emotions behind irritation and stubbornness. You smiled at him, "Yes I'm okay Ed,.I promise." A slight smile came to his face as he grasped your hand harder, silently whispering under his breath "that's good.." You two stayed like that for awhile, sitting silently next to each other as time eternally passed by.

[dandyshucks]

hi dandy ! a ship question : what pkmn does juno have ? have guzma and juno ever traded / gifted pkmn to each other ? what does guzma's pkmn think abt juno, and vice versa? dont feel pressured to answer all of these if u dont want to , just a bunch of questions out of interest ^^ - @dmclr

AWAUUHH HI CLARA !! thank u so much for the questions omg :O !!

i gotta put it under a cut because OUGH AUGH THE RAMBLER'S CURSE GOT ME,,, IT'S SO LONG IM SO SORRY OH MY GOD HELP FSDJKL

my s/i's main team is piplup (Henry), houndoom (Greer), psyduck (Huey), greavard (Grimsby), and a still unnamed chatot and banette (im slooowly playing through platinum so i'm waiting til i catch them in-game to decide on names), buuuut i might swap someone out of there because I've grown to really love my mareep named Mung Bean in pkmn sleep !! :3

I'VE NEVER RLY THOUGHT ABT THE SECOND QUESTION OMG.... guz would absolutely gift juno a wimpod at some point though,, I like to think they go hunt for wimpods sometimes as a shared interest activity :D guzma would also definitely gift juno a cutiefly early on maybe before they start dating because... how could he not HFSDJKL, he is fluent in bug-types and would want to flirt through bug-types hehe :3 also somewhat related, once he finds out about juno's interest in cataloguing the differences in plants in the different regions, he'd probably look into the alolan variants of pkmn (like vulpix and meowth and rattata etc) and then try to impress juno w his (newly acquired) knowledge JFSJKL

juno would absolutely eagerly help him fill out his bug collection with some sinnoh bug-types that alola doesn't have !! (i need to make a list of bug-types that each region has tbh...) they'd gift him some they had in their storage box, and then help him catch any others when they go to sinnoh together :D

ooh okay i have thought abt this third question a bit fdsjkl it's so fun thinking abt the different personalities of their pkmn :3

golisopod puts on a tough act for like. a day at most. and then immediately crumbles and is actually just a big ol' softie so he warms up to juno pretty much immediately fdsjkl. ariados doesn't like juno very much just because juno's a little afraid of him dsgjkl but eventually the two of them come to some sort of mutual understanding where they get along in a vaguely strained manner (guzma never rly understands why the two of them don't get along well and tries to facilitate some bonding moments that go disastrously sideways somehow every time LMAO). scizor is kind of stand-offish and unsure about juno but once juno hangs around for a while and he sees more of them, then he accepts them as one of the squad! pinsir is a little mean (he's just mischievous tbh) and likes messing with juno but they eventually catch onto his pranks and antics, and turns it back on him one day and that earns his respect LMAO. masquerain is just happy that there's more people in the house and gets along really well with Greer to everyone's surprise, so he's a happy camper :] (at some point i want to create a proper team list for guz and maybe come up w names for them hehe)

Henry is a shy but proud lil guy and doesn't really trust Guz at first but trusts Juno's judgement so he warms up to the big boss man soon enough (plus Guz works hard to get on Henry's good side considering Henry never goes into a pokeball so he's around almost all the time LOL). Greer HATES Guz at first 😭 it takes her a long time to tolerate him - she finally starts turning around on her opinion of him when he helps Juno through a flashback/panic attack that she couldn't calm them down from on her own. Huey is super chill, so there's no issues there fdsjkl, I think he'd get along especially well with the grunts tbh LOL they'd probably try giving him a painkiller one day just to see what would happen and he'd be forever indebted to them (Juno finds out later and loses their mind because painkillers aren't made for pokemon and they have to rush him to a pokecenter to get him checked over JFDSKL). and Grimsby loves everyone, if you give him any bit of attention he'll love you forever, so Guzma gets on his good side pretty much right off the bat :3

THANK YOU AGAIN AND I'M SO SORRY ABOUT THE NOVEL-LENGTH ANSWER OMFG 😭😭 these were just such good questions and I could not make my answers any shorter than this HDSGJKL

[kagedbird]

TESSDE AU (+ Taliesin) Continuation from this

Allora: *out and about in the marketplace, chatting with Fralia Gray-Mane about the weather when she's tapped on the shoulder* Hm? Yes? Courier: Got something for you- your eyes only. Let's see here... ah, a letter from some interesting fellows in Riften. Paid me quite the coin for it. Here you are; have a nice day! Allora: Ah, thanks, you too! *takes the mail and carefully opens it, reading the text, 'She came. Hurry.'* ...Fuck. I need to get the others. *** Allora: *hurries and gathers everyone in the house, showing off the mail* We need to go. I don't want us to be here if she comes looking for us, and I need to know if the guild is in danger from not having captured me. Taliesin: Why bother with them? Those riff-raff started this problem in the first place. Allora: It's just as likely she just needed intel and can easily destroy them. We don't know what she can do, or those men that were with her. And I made a deal. I will uphold that. Lucien: Wouldn't going back just put you both in more danger? Allora: More danger than being unprepared and kidnapped? I have all of you with me now. I want us to stick together at all times- and someone with Kaidan and I should something happen. Taliesin? Taliesin: *standing tall* At your side? I suppose I can- Allora: No, love. I need you with Kaidan. Taliesin: *splutters* Absolutely not, I- Allora: You're a face that can blend in with any Thalmor representative, you can think quickly on your feet and lie to get yourselves out of anything, and you know magick. I need that sort of person with him in case Kaidan is in trouble. Taliesin: I... but... Allora: I'll have Lucien. He has healing spells, destruction magick, and conjuration spells. He has ties to his family and can think of any big names to link to me should anyone ask if we need an out. Lucien: I will do my best! Inigo: And myself? Allora: If we're separated, you go with those two. I can teleport you to me if I need you, so stick with them and be ready to swap. But you deny the spell if there is even a modicum of a chance that those two are in danger, do you hear me? Inigo: *frowning, ears falling flat* But, if you are to need me... Allora: I'll try again. If I do it more than once, you'll know I need you. Inigo: *sighs and nods* I understand. Kaidan: *scowling sharply* I don' like this. They took you from us because you were alone. I don't want t'give them another chance! Allora: They won't. Because I won't be alone. This is worse case scenario. If we need to split up, that's what we do. I won't take any arguments on it- and I refuse to let this woman get to you. She was after you, Kai. Just using me as bait. I don't want to know what she wants with you. Please don't offer yourself up for me. Kaidan: You can't ask that of me. Allora: I can and I will. I've all ready seen you tortured in front of my eyes, god damn it, I won't have that happen again! This is what we're doing. Now get packed, we're heading out soon. *turns and stomps up the stairs to grab her weapons* Inigo: *watching her go up the stairs sadly* Do not be too upset with her Kaidan. She is very scared right now. Kaidan: And I'm not? Taliesin: It's just as likely, and more accurate to say, that she does not want to feel incapable of protecting you like that again. Something you both share. Don't hold it against her, you imbecile. It just means she cares. *goes upstairs to gather his things as well* Lucien: *nervously watching Kaidan as he rubs his face angrily* ...I certainly don't get the best feeling from all of this... I hope this all goes all right. Inigo: *pulling his gear on from his pack* You and me both.

[Next one here]

[thegettingbyp2]

May I make an Anthony Bridgerton x reader request? Anything modern AU, maybe she’s an old family friend and he realizes she’s grown into someone he’s super attracted to? Anything in a modern twist.

Different Light

A/N: Sorry if this isn't what you were expecting! It was my first time writing a Modern AU fic so I've done the best that I can, hope you like it!!

‘No, go left! My left!’

‘I’m trying!’

I sighed as I tried to ignore my brother and his best friend, Anthony, screaming at the TV over some game they were playing. I was curled up in the corner of the sofa, trying to read my book. I didn’t want to go upstairs to read because I had a huge crush on Anthony (but I’d never tell my brother), he was only two years older than me but he saw me as a younger sister because of the fact he was friends with my brother.

‘Can you two shut up, it’s a game,’ I said, not understanding what was so exciting for them.

‘You don’t like it, you can go upstairs and read your book,’ my brother replied, not bothering to look away from the screen. I slammed my book shut with a bit more force than necessary which made both boys look over at me as I got up and walked into the kitchen. I heard the game pause in the next room and footsteps approach the kitchen before Anthony appeared in the doorway.

‘Hey,’ I said, trying not to smile too wide, ‘you want a drink?’ I asked, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water.

‘Nah, I’m good thanks,’ Anthony said, arms crossed and leaning in the doorway. I was trying incredibly hard not to stare at the small patch of skin that was showing between his jeans and t-shirt. Despite being friends with my brother, Anthony was always nice to me; always said hello and asked how I was when he came round and sometimes he even went out of his way to have a conversation with me. However, every single time I thought that he was flirting with me (even the tiniest bit), he would inevitably do something to shatter the illusion and remind me that he saw me as a little sister. ‘You alright? Alex not being too much of a dick, right?’

His question made me laugh. He knew that sometimes I found it difficult to cope with my older brother because whenever he had a friend round, he’d try to act all tough, especially when it was Anthony round. ‘Yeah, he’s alright, I’m used to it now,’ I replied, making him chuckle quietly. ‘You looking forward to College?’

‘God yeah, it’s going to be great getting out of this small little town,’ he said enthusiastically, walking towards me and leaning against the kitchen island, his arm brushing against mine as he brought his face closer to mine, ‘why? You gonna miss me little (Y/L/N)?’

‘Why? You gonna miss me, Bridgerton?’ I turned the question back onto him and he just looked at me, amused before ruffling my hair and pushed himself off the counter.

‘You’re funny (Y/N),’ he called out as he walked back into the living room, my shoulders slumping when he was out of sight.

---

‘What time is everyone supposed to be getting here?’ My best friend, Steph, called out, not looking away from the mirror as she was putting the finishing touches on her make-up. Mine and Alex’s parents we’re out for the weekend which only meant one thing: house party. I found out that Anthony was coming to the party about an hour ago so I completely swapped my outfit and changed my make-up.

I haven’t seen Anthony in about three years because him and Alex have been away at College and I was hoping that tonight he’d see that I wasn’t just Alex’s little sister any more. I changed into a pair of tight shorts that made my ass look amazing, a black crop top and my trusty pumps; I couldn’t lie, I looked good.

‘They should be turning up any time from now,’ I said, hearing people milling about downstairs.

A bit later into the party, I was standing at the kitchen island where we had put all of the drinks. I was choosing what to drink next when I felt a hand trail across my lower back before I heard his voice.

‘Hey, I’m Anthony, I don’t believe we’ve met.’ I smirked to myself before turning around to face him. I watched his mouth drop open in surprise, it taking everything in me not to laugh at his expression. ‘(Y/N)? You look…wow.’

‘Nice to see you,’ I said, leaning up and kissing his cheek, lingering slightly as I heard him inhale sharply, ‘we should catch up later.’ I bounced back down, smiled at him and walked back into the crowd and started to dance.

It wasn’t long before I felt a body come up behind me and I grinned as I smelt the familiar scent of Anthony’s aftershave. I didn’t turn around to face him and when he realised I wasn’t going to, I felt his hands land on my hips as he started moving his body along with mine as he moved his head down so he could talk in my ear.

‘You look good,’ he said loudly, groaning slightly when my ass brushed against his crotch, fingers tightening on my hips.

‘It’s been three years,’ I yelled back, the music too loud to talk at a normal volume, ‘what? Did you expect me to be the same little girl?’

Without warning, Anthony spun me around, hands coming down to my ass and pulled me flush against him, ‘oh you’re definitely not the same. The (Y/N) I left behind wouldn’t be seen dead at a place like this.’

‘Good thing I had time to change then isn’t it,’ I said, smirking at him. I watched him look at me, a thousand thoughts running through his head before I heard a quiet “fuck it” and he slammed his lips against mine. My lips parted instantly for his tongue to invade my mouth and he pulled me even tighter against him. He tasted of mint toothpaste and beer and I found it completely addiction. I smiled into the kiss, thrilled that I was finally kissing Anthony Bridgerton. I pulled away from his lips, a frown appearing on his face as he chased my lips.

‘If you want, you can see how much my rooms changed as well?’ I said, raising an eyebrow.

Anthony’s eyes darkened as he led us towards the stairs, ‘you read my mind baby.’

[ichorblossoms]

glance, change, alternate for serena

ohohohOOO thank you thank you >:3c

glance: at first glance, what stands out most about your oc's appearance? what's their distinguishing feature?

serena's big, not abnormally so, but she's a taller than average and muscular. i think that paired with her scars n wing rips makes her very intimidating to most people, esp at a glance. exudes "dont' fuck with me" energy and she embraces that for the most part. as for her distinguishing feature, i think most of the time people first notice the scars on her face, then her other scars/wing rips, and then her prosthetic in approximately that order

change: has your oc ever drastically changed their appearance? significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? why? how do they feel about the change?

not really! she's been pretty consistent with her looks most of her life and, outside of makeup and generally smaller accessories (neither of which she wears), i don't think there's a ton of ways most dragons can change up their appearances? tbh dragons and bodily self-expression is sort of an underdeveloped realm of ttw's universe that i oughta put more thought into bc they're just as social as humans, but don't have the same pressures of modesty?

going back to the question though, the biggest change she's made is her big arm sleeve tattoo:

she got it bc it looks cool and she likes plants first and foremost, but there's also an element of "i want to have something that's not a scar on my body" to it. she'd get more tattoos if she had the money too, but alas

it's not a *drastic* change per se, but she's gone through different prostheses/styles over life since she's a congenital amputee. most of the time, she has two models of prostheses—one designed for day-to-day use and another for sport/active use—that she switches out depending on what she's doing. she's pretty happy with how her current ones look, but if she had more money she'd consider other models. also doesn't help that getting them replaced every few years is a huge drain on her finances

alternate: What would your oc's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? what au would you want to see your oc in, and how would they dress themself? bonus: prompt an au!

we're crossing the streams here babey! i actually doodled what she'd look like in a honeybee au a little while ago, so here it is with some color slapped on. she's a bighorn sheep humod

it's fucking Hot in the desert and she's not trying to be more exhausted than she usually is, so she rarely wears leather but know in my heart she is a leatherdyke. or at least adjacent. otherwise she's usually in tank tops and. i think cargo shorts would be funny, but that's a gut reaction and not one i've thought out dhkglhdf defs practicality and moveability over all else

[margridarnauds]

9, 4 and 18 of the Tav's asks for your Kitrye!

Thanks!

9. If they had to be put in a "get along shirt" with a companion, who would it be?

For...I want to say about 4/5 of her run, Kitrye fucking HATED Astarion. He was, hands down, her least favorite companion, her worstie, the guy who she was forced to bring along with her on missions for lockpicking purposes and then disapproved of everything she did. It got to the point where she would make decisions DELIBERATELY to piss him off more. "Oh, you don't LIKE IT when I free the gnomes from slavery? I'll even do it WITHOUT CHARGING THEM ANYTHING." "Oh :( Astarion's dead :( Let me run around a little before I resurrect him" Etc. etc. It began sometime around him making various racist comments in the first act, then with him rejecting her at the tiefling party (on the record, she was never interested in him -- he just rejected her off the bat and then she was furious at the presumption) that then ballooned into "I should be able to kill people because I had a sad life and if you disagree, you don't know what it's like to suffer" which...Kitrye....long-standing survivor of parental abuse...currently on the run from said parent...did not take well.

He is the reason that "Sorry About Your Parents" is on her character playlist. In order to get giffing material, I did romance "Astarion" in an AU, using mods to swap Astarion's character model with Raphael's, but for the first scene, Kitrye just looked...incredibly uncomfortable. Worst thing I've ever done to her, even beyond having her break her vow. Poor thing.

Anyway, when she went to confront Cazador, things had improved slightly, but she was still prepared to kill him rather than have him go along with the ritual -- she was NOT going to let an ascended vampire walk Faerûn. (And I wasn't going to reload my save if she did, I was willing to let it be whatever it was.) Only for him to redeem himself, save the other vampire spawn, and for her to break her oath. It was very, very bittersweet for her, and it made the lack of care about her breaking her oath/focusing on Astarion from the other companions even more heartbreaking, because it was a mixture of knowing she OUGHT to be happy for him and also being kind of like "I've been here since Day One doing this, I just lost my life's purpose, and I got barely a pat on the head or anyone expressing an ounce of sympathy, while Astarion can do the bare minimum of not being a dick and gets showered with praise, where's my respect?"

And it's funny because the vast majority of my other characters actually LOVE Astarion, so this is TRULY a Kitrye Thing. (Her daughter Anathematisma is actually currently sleeping with him, as of this point in her run.) (God help both of them.)

It did make for a very satisfying epilogue though, seeing Astarion settled and the two of them comfortable with one another. (It didn't matter, because of the way the epilogue is set up, but she actually did add Sebastian's letter to her inventory, just to remind herself that it was worth it.)

4. How do they sleep with their LI?

Kitrye is the little spoon, with him usually having his face buried in her neck. If he's in his cambion form, he tends to curl his tail around her in some way, especially around the legs, in a gesture that's simultaneously protective and possessive. When they were in Menzoberranzan together, she tended to get nightmares as a little present from Lolth, and, on those occasions, he got accustomed to wrapping his wings around her, both to shield her and also to not-so-politely remind Lolth that she was already spoken for. (Always with some pragmatic excuse because, after all, He Doesn't Actually Love Her, Love Is A Weakness, etc. etc. etc.) In his human form, he's more likely to have his arms wrapped around her waist. Given that he's essentially a living furnace, he's often quite literally too hot to handle in either form, and she has definitely woken up in a sweat because he was too close to her and that, combined with Avernus being itself, makes for a ridiculously smothering warmth, but she's also very protective of every bit of genuine intimacy that they have together, especially since Raphael's very selective about how often he's willing to demonstrate it. A couple of centuries or so, post-game, it's actually a stipulation in the contract that is Not NOT A Devilish Marriage Contract Between Them (over 500 pages and counting) that The Archdevil Raphael Is Obliged To Come to Bed No Later Than 2 AM. While he will be the first to try to find loopholes as a way to stay scheming in his office for longer into the early morning, he's equally protective of that time together in his own way, it isn't a one-sided thing, and he was actually the one to stay over first, much to her shock (of all the ways she'd pegged him, in various ways, shapes, and forms, she hadn't pegged the devil as the sort to stay after sex for a cuddle), but, when they're not in the bedroom, he tends to be incredibly reserved, especially early on when he was still navigating having Squishy Feelings at ALL, so it's a very important space for the two of them besides the obvious.

Sometimes, when infernal politics are getting to be too much, they change things up, with her letting him fall asleep on her lap, often while she strokes his hair or plays the lyre to soothe him a little. This applies to all of his forms, including, when things are VERY bad, his Ascended Fiend form.

18. What modern day TV show would they binge over the weekend? Do they get their LI to watch with them?

I think that there are two distinct stages in what Kitrye would be interested in. In her early character development, shows like Succession and Game of Thrones would be a little too real for her, but as she gets more cynical and calculating, I think they'd appeal. It's funny because I'm extremely critical of a lot of his stuff (and from what I've seen of how they adapted it), but I think that she would really like Mike Flanagan's Fall of the House of Usher -- horrible people plotting (just like home) and getting exactly what they deserve, a devilish character weaving her way in and out of the narrative...for Kitrye later in her character development, it's perfect.

In her earlier years, she's going to go for shows that emphasize hope and overcoming the odds -- and since she does love animals and has some skills in animal handling, it might be shows like, say, My Cat From Hell (which her companions have absolutely memed by putting Raphael's face over the image of the cat in the ad and Kitrye's face over Jackson's.) Kitrye has a taste for the high life and culture, so it wouldn't be anything TOO trashy, unfortunately.

Given that Kitrye has proficiency in History and Religion (she multi-classes as a cleric), I'm not sure whether she would ENJOY period dramas or nitpick them. (She decides to spend one evening watching the 2011 Jane Eyre and Crimson Peak and has to take a very, very long moment to look at her life, look at her choices.) If Raphael keeps his canon age, she would absolutely bring him along just for him to poke holes in the accuracy. For what it's worth, Raphael in any verse is much more keen to drag her to a theatre production -- he has a regular box reserved at several prominent opera houses after making a deal with the various owners.