#i spent way too long on the shading tbh

[strangersatellites]

pride, envy, sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, ao3

Seven Deadly Sins Series (NSFW 18+)

wrath (noun): uncontrolled feelings of anger, rage, and even hatred. wrath often reveals itself in the wish to seek vengeance. in its purest form, wrath presents with injury, violence, and hate

cw: rough sex, unhealthy relationships, blood, unsafe sex, choking, slapping, dacryphilia, angst (????) on accident, probably more tbh they genuinely fucking hate each other in this universe

This thing they’d had going on for three months now really had started off fun.

It started out soft and sweet. Stolen kisses in the back of The Hideout, quick, messy blowjobs in the backseat of Steve’s car, booty calls late at night when one or the other couldn’t sleep.

He can’t really identify what went wrong or when. All Steve knows is that the butterflies that he used to get when Eddie came around have turned and twisted into something sharp and heavy. Now when they’re within earshot of each other it's all biting insults and low-blows.

Somewhere along the line, the happiness that Eddie planted in his heart morphed into bitter resentment. But Steve’s nothing if not self-sacrificial, and the sex was too good to give up. Who is he to deny himself of the only good thing Eddie has left to offer him? So now he finds himself shoved into bar bathrooms and left high and dry, bruises mottled up and down his chest and dark bags under his eyes from a fitful sleep. Somehow he’s convinced himself it's better than nothing.

On nights where he can’t shake the memory of Eddie’s lips on his and his heart fluttering pretty and soft, he goes out. 

He goes out to a seedy club and he finds someone that he won’t remember the name of in the morning and he tries anything to clear his mind. Nothing’s ever as good.

Tonight he’s found himself a few beers deep and tracing water stains on the bar top at some place he’s never been just outside of town. He’d spent the last ten minutes or so talking to a guy that looked like he’d show him a good enough time. Dark, curly hair cut so that it flopped down into his face, pretty blue eyes that went a shade darker when they looked Steve over, and a shirt cut low enough that Steve could see ink swirl across his collarbones in vines and leaves. 

Steve thinks his name is Adam, but he wasn’t really listening and still really isn’t. He’s found that a few soft laughs and hums while guys talk is usually enough to feign interest long enough to coax them to a bathroom. 

This guy, Adam maybe, is about two seconds away from dragging him there himself, he can tell. It’s written all over his body language. Steve smiles his prettiest smile and flutters his eyelashes.

But as soon as he opens his mouth to purr something like “Do you want to get out of here?” There are strong arms snaking around his waist and teeth scraping at his throat and Steve’s blood runs hot in an instant. He’s well-accustomed to it no longer being a good sensation.

Steve shoves his elbow back with as much force as he can muster and it all goes red before he even hears his chuckle.

“Strike out again, Harrington? I made it just in time then, huh sweetheart,” Eddie coos in a tone dripping with condescension.

He’s on his feet and shoving at Eddie’s chest with enough force he knows it’ll bruise, sees it knock the wind out of him a bit. Gets right up in his face and would do anything to rip that self-satisfied smirk right off of it.

“You miserable fucking prick,” he spits, uncaring of the way Eddie flinches back the tiniest bit. “I was not striking out, and I never am! And yet here you come acting like you’re saving some damsel in distress when it’s you crawling back to me. Every. Single. Time,” he punctuates with jabs to his chest. 

Eddie’s smile doesn’t leave as he huffs a laugh. His tongue swipes across sharp, sharp teeth and he leers at Steve with narrowed eyes. Predatory in a way Steve liked once upon a time but now makes him want to punch out his teeth. He’s got his hands in his pockets and he looks entirely too comfortable with the fact that he just ruined Steve’s night. Again.

“God, sweetheart. You’re so wound up,” he whispers, face pinching up in faux concern. He brings his hands up to smooth down Steve’s biceps and digs his fingers in tight enough that he doesn’t budge with Steve’s attempts at shaking him off. “Tell me. When was the last time someone fucked you good enough that you remembered his name the next morning, now be honest.” He leans in close and that smirk is back and Steve hates it. “You can say it was me, honey. It’ll be our little secret.” 

And Steve’s seeing red again because he’s right. 

It was him. It’s always him and probably always will be. 

He gets back up in his space once more and makes sure he’s looking at his eyes when he whispers a sharp “Fuck. You.”

And it's only for a split second but he swears he sees hurt flash through brown eyes. Gone in an instant and replaced with a real, raw indifference that Steve thinks might be worse. 

He feels a hand at the back of his neck and Eddie’s lips brush his ear. 

“Yours or mine?”

And it was always going to go like this. Steve’s not under any illusions. Knew this time wouldn’t be different. But it still stings the way that he knows in an alternate universe that question might’ve been accompanied with giggles and a kiss. 

But then he remembers the way that Eddie looked so proud when Steve first said he hated him and the rage is back ten-fold.

He turns on his heel and knows he’s being followed.

“Yours. Don’t want you in my fucking house.”

*****

Steve’s got Eddie’s wrists pinned to the wall above his head and his teeth raking down his neck. Wants to leave a mark. A memory. 

He hears Eddie gasp as Steve’s hips shove hard against his own and he shoves harder in retaliation.

“Remember when you used to kiss me?” Steve asks, Eddie’s breath against his face enough to pull some bricks from the walls he’s spent months building.

He feels more than hears Eddie’s hum. Feels his knee come up to shove him backwards until he’s the one pressed against the wall, face turned sideways and arms pinned behind his back.

“Yeah sweetheart.” He leans in to bite at Steve’s ear and make him hiss.

Steve’s grinning, ugly and mean when he grits out “Worst decision of my fucking life.”

But now Eddie’s the one smirking, he can hear it when he speaks. “Mine too. Liked my life a lot better when I didn’t know what you taste like.”

Steve aims for the shin when he bucks a foot backwards, nails it if Eddie’s grunt is anything to go by. He spins around and shoves at Eddie hard enough to send them both to the floor, grateful for a second the fact that his muscle mass makes it easy to manhandle his way into what he wants. 

He laughs, loud and fake. “Now see, that I just don’t believe, Eddie.” He’s got his eyebrows raised high and pout on his lips and he knows what’s coming and he relaxes into it.

And yeah maybe Steve’s strong, but Eddie knows him. Knows when his guard is down. He gets his knees up around Steve’s hips and flips them over, Steve’s back against the ground and there’s the fury Steve’s been after. Been trying to bring it out all night.

Eddie’s got a ringed hand pressed tight against Steve’s throat when he finally lets himself feel. Feel good the way only Eddie can make him. Lets the fight drain out of him as his vision goes spotty. Eddie’s spitting words in his face, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” and saliva into his mouth and it’s so bad-good.

His next breath is heaving as he comes back down and Eddie’s already standing and walking away. 

“Get up. I don’t have all night.”

And now that he’s got Eddie mad, got him fired up, he knows he can let himself go. Lets himself fall even though he knows Eddie’s not going to catch him. Thinks it's worth it until it's not. Until tomorrow when he remembers the way he and Eddie won’t look at each other when their friends are around. They way they don’t talk.

Because this is how it's always going to go. He’s going to let Eddie rile him up, make his sharp, heavy butterflies flutter out in words he thinks he doesn’t really mean. He’s going to push and push and push until Eddie breaks. And even though he started it, Eddie always will. Break, that is. He’ll break out of his self-assured, indifferent asshole persona and he’ll turn into something real and mean. Someone that hates Steve back. 

Steve thinks it shouldn’t feel as good as it does.

There’s nothing gentle about the way Eddie stretches him open. The way he smacks the inside of Steve’s thigh hard enough it leaves a welt the shape of his hand. 

He’s got two fingers inside him and Steve feels so good and he can’t help but talk. Head thrown back, words fall from his lips between desperate moans. 

“Hate you so fucking much.”

A smack to his ass and a dejected huff. 

“Yeah. I know you do sweetheart."

Steve groans in annoyance but his back arches all the same.

“Hate it when you call me that.”

And he’s not looking but he knows Eddie is rolling his eyes. 

“I know you do, baby.”

And there’s tears pricking at the back of his eyes because sure he really does hate this man. Really does think he’d have been better off never meeting him. But all he can hear when Eddie calls him “baby” is the way he used to say it through laughter against his skin.

He knows he’s pouting but he thinks he deserves it with the bitter memories he’s fighting away. “Hate that even worse.”

Eddie pulls his fingers out and crawls up his body to squeeze at his cheeks until he fishmouths.

“I know. Now shut up and stop crying. You wanted me mean and you’ve fucking got it baby.”

Steve gasps high in his throat when Eddie grabs him by his hips and flips him onto his belly and something about this flavor of anger Eddie’s wearing sets Steve off again. But this time his anger isn’t a facade. It's raw and real and it's hurt that got brushed aside and became something else entirely.

“Hate what we could’ve been. Hate that I hate you.” He says into a pillow.

He hears Eddie groan and not in a good way. In the way he does when he’s annoyed. He feels his weight lay over his back and his hand on the inside of his thigh yanking upward and open.

“Well I hate that you don’t know when to stop talking." He grits out and the pressure as he presses inside Steve is enough to make him white out.

By the time he builds up a bruising rhythm, punching Steve’s breath out of him on every thrust, he’s talking again.

“Could’ve given you everything you wanted sweetheart,” and his tone is so patronizing, “But it just wasn’t fucking enough was it?”

And Steve’s barely holding on to his consciousness through the pressure deep in his guts and the hand pressing the back of his neck down, down, down. But he’s still got enough wherewithal that that strikes a chord.

Because no, having Eddie behind closed doors wasn’t enough. And Eddie knows that. He knows how that hurt him and chooses to use it against him anyway.

His voice is muffled into the pillow and broken up by whimpers and whines but he speaks anyway.

“Well it wasn’t my– shit, so good. Wasn’t my pride that got in the way.”

Eddie’s hips slow to a deep grind and freeze pressed to the hilt.

The hand at the back of Steve’s neck slides to the front and yanks him up on his knees, pressed against Eddie’s chest.

His chest is heaving where its plastered to Steve’s back and his voice rumbles through them both.

“Maybe not. But it was you that kept your mouth shut and made it my fault.”

Steve goes to argue but gets cut off by the sharp stinging of teeth breaking the skin against his shoulder blade. His breath goes ragged on a shriek and his vision whites out around the edges. Eddie’s shoving him back down, ass-up and face smushed sideways. His hand slips up and pries his mouth wide open and shoves in hard, stopping anything he could possibly say. Steve’s eyes are wide where he’s staring, gone glassy and wet.

“And it looks like now you don’t know how to do that, do you baby?” He asks.

And he’s got his fingers down his throat and his dick shoved deep.

There’s blood dripping from his teeth in that sharp, bitter smile. And he’s so pretty. And Steve hates him.

He chokes around his fingers on a sob as Eddie picks up his pace again.

Hates that it feels so good.

Hates that he comes back for this.

Hates that Eddie’s right.

Because maybe he can’t pinpoint when or where things went south, but he knows it has everything to do with the way he started needing more and not asking for it. Knows Eddie was letting him figure it out on his own. And instead of just going for it, he knows he started blaming.

So maybe he does hate Eddie. Hates him for the way he didn’t push him when he knew he needed it. Hates that he still uses him like this. 

But he really hates himself. Because he could’ve had what he wanted but he didn’t take it.

(Hates that tomorrow he’ll forget this all again, too far in his head and in the feeling of Eddie taking what he wouldn’t give. He’ll forget it all and go back to hating him again.)

A sharp smack to the outside of his thigh brings him barreling back down into reality and it's Eddie’s words that send him hurdling into release.

“Here you fucking go again with the crying. God I hate that you’re so fucking pretty.”

Steve hates that that’s what does it for him. Hates that his crying is what does it for Eddie. Hates the way he’s filled up and will have to go home messy, the way Eddie pulls out of him and throws him his clothes.

He hears the flick of a lighter and Eddie’s heavy inhale from far away.

“I assume you can show yourself out.”

As Steve pulls his shirt over his head and wipes the tear tracks from his face he thinks “Yeah. This is why I hate him.”

And from the other side of the room Eddie thinks that if Steve would say half of the things that run through his mind with Eddie inside him, maybe they wouldn’t hate each other at all.

[gingerteaonthetardis]

autumnal writing prompt:

fallen leaves but it has to take place inside the TARDIS. any doctor + companion and/or pairing

hiiiii thank you for your prompt and for your patience <3 tbh, i loved this concept and i spent a fair bit of time on the execution, trying to get the vibe close to what i was seeing in my head. not sure if i succeeded. but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

i went with the tenth doctor for this one, set post-runaway bride, reflecting on the loss of rose.

to read on ao3, click here!

-

When the time came, he let the TARDIS guide him there.

He never knew where it had been or would be. He never knew what it would be like either. That was part of the Solarium's charm: it was a place which could only be found when it wasn't sought. Its unpredictability made it what it was.

And it had been a night for unpredictability. But he'd delivered the bride safely home. Snow still sugared the shoulders of his suit when the halls began changing.

"I'm not ready," he felt himself say. The words echoed hollowly ahead of him, down funny sharp turns and looping passages. He was raw and exposed and though he was very alone, he didn't feel alone—he felt stifled by memories, ghosts crowding the edges of his vision.

He needed time. He needed more of it, reams of it, an endless fountain of it. He needed all the time there was, and more—because that's what it would take.

But he followed the lights anyway. What else could he do?

Down corridors and stairwells, he let the ship lead him. Up a spiral staircase. Behind a false wall. The TARDIS was rarely consistent, but she was kind: she let him take the long way 'round.

When the arched doorway finally presented itself, the weak light was already filtering out through the cracks. Dry, brown leaves skittered and hushed as he put his palm to the creaky wooden door and pushed.

Autumn.

Inside the Solarium, it was autumn.

Outside, too. The atmosphere beyond the high, domed glass and iron lattice work appeared blue—a pale, eggshell blue, verging on grey. Clouds melded seamlessly with sky. The chill of it was almost a visible thing.

Within the Solarium, everything was in its proper place: the sundial, made now of stone, though in the past it had been many things—wood, then ceramic, then glass, then gleaming quartz; the pond where nothing lived and nothing grew, but the water itself danced. The ivy still crept perpetually up the lattices.

And in the center of the room, the tree still stood.

The tree in the Solarium belonged to no particular genus, had no particular name, though he'd searched the TARDIS library to find one. The bark of its massive trunk was smooth and unobtrusive, marred only by the occasional scar of some long distant, unknown trauma. It never fruited, though he'd seen it in every season. Its leaves often changed shape or grew irregularly, patchy and strange.

And at present, it was an explosion of colour.

The Doctor said nothing.

Gold, gold. So many golden leaves hung from those broad branches. Shades varied from the palest sunrise to a hue so rich and dark as to be nearly orange. In some spots, clusters of browning, dead leaves hung, poised to fall.

His eyes avoided those patches, drawn instead to where the vibrant colour was thickest. It was the gold of hair, of puddled sunlight, of a young sun. In spite of himself, he began crossing the tiled floor.

The loose laces of his plimsolls disturbed the occasional fallen leaf, a crackling announcement of his presence. But he still approached slow, like he would meet a wild animal. He stepped cautiously over where thick roots had broken through the floor.

It was only when his hand began to lift, fingers extended, that he paused.

"I'm not ready," he whispered, scarcely a moment before a vibrant daisy-heart-yellow leaf broke free and fell—right into his waiting hand.

     "I'll never get used to this. Never. Different ground beneath my feet," and she's jumping, bouncing on her heels, and she's smiling, and it’s lovely, "different sky… What's that smell?"

     "Apple grass," he tells her, eager to share everything he knows.

     "Apple grass… It's beautiful. Oh, I love this. Can I just say, travelling with you, I love—"

"No."

The Doctor's hand spasmed, and the leaf fell, taking with it the scent of a different world. Apple grass. Such a crisp, fresh smell. He could never smell it again without thinking of her.

His throat felt tight. He wasn't ready.

Yet how many times had he stood just like this and let the memories wash over him?

Often they were green—hopeful springtimes of gentle past, a balm when he needed it most. Reminders of the goodness which existed in pockets of the universe, waiting to be discovered.

Sometimes, they came frost-fanged and bitter, serrated edges cutting him to the bone. Regret was grey. Steel grey.

All his companions had bloomed and withered here, on these unreal branches.

But this—the season the tree offered him was too cool and serene for what he felt. This… gentle giving-way. There was a storm inside him.

She had not passed gracefully into another season; she had been torn from his world, and her world, and the TARDIS, and him. How could that be beautiful?

How could that be golden?

He moved in a rush, grasping suddenly at the nearest withered clutch of leaves. He was only just tall enough to reach, and when he closed his fist, he came away with—

     Pleading. "Help her."

     But he isn't moved. "Everything has its time," he says, "and everything dies."

—and,

     "No." Sarah Jane stands firm. Sure in herself. "The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it's a world, or a relationship," and the guilt cuts him open as he thinks of her, the leaves on her tree; then he thinks of Rose. "Everything has its time—"

—and,

     "Why don't you ever just say what you mean?"

     "Rose—"

     "It's always talking with you, but you never…" She shakes her head, hair catching the light of the console. He wants to hold her so badly he can barely speak. "Just tell me this, Doctor: you and me, is it ever gonna change? Will we ever…?" She drifts off, uncertain.

     "Everything changes." It's not really an answer, but it's the best he can do. "I promise."

—and in a blink, his fist closed. The brittle memories crushed to dust in his hand.

They were still there, of course: in him, in the TARDIS herself, and they always would be. They would grow anew, changing shape over time. Even at the topmost parts of the tree, people who were long gone lived forever: his granddaughter, with her untameable smile; an old historian who loved cocoa and cake and driving him spare; a young boy who was so brave, and so clever, and so very foolish; an Edwardian adventuress who followed him into madness.

The companions of his many lives.

They crowded their way up into the highest branches. One day, Rose would live among them, a golden crown to this ancient tree.

But even that knowledge held no comfort.

"No more," he said, "please."

Around him, the room gave a faint, irritated huff—like a creaky groan and a hum at once. And from somewhere else, a wind stirred. Focused and strong. Pay attention, it seemed to say, or else did say, in its own language.

A leaf the colour of liquid gold wriggled and broke loose, and he knew better than to run from it. All he could manage was to stand his ground as it smacked, with unusual force, into his chest.

The image burst over him.

     "Anything else?"

     "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

     He sees where the woman—the bride—is looking. Over his shoulder. His gaze follows her, and he feels all the air leave his lungs. There is an infinite space between one heartsbeat and the next. But it’s real. It’s really her. No hologram or vision or ghost. No memory.

     In the darkness, a light. Blonde hair glinting, her eyes holding his. And then he's running. Running flat out.

     She's all he can see.

     The feeling inside him is like nothing else. Like being reborn.

     Her smile crosses the distance, gilded and lovely, meeting him before his arms can reach her. But even before his touch lands, he knows he’s already home.

The Doctor blinked. A hand rose to wipe down his own face, smearing the tears he hadn't felt fall. His from another time.

His feet stumbled forward, and he caught himself against the tree's giant trunk.

"Not a memory," he whispered to the silence, in all its enormity, its electric potential. "Not yet."

Prescience, passed down to him by the brush of a leaf. This had never happened before.

But then, there had never been anybody like Rose before, had there? She'd left her mark on the TARDIS, on the vortex itself, every bit as much as she'd left her mark on him.

The pads of his fingers felt out a scar in the wood. One he hadn't seen before. It had an odd shape to it, an asymmetry that reminded him a little of an animal in profile: a jagged protrusion, and the swell of a haunch.

Something with its nose to the sky.

He traced it twice before he understood. The muzzle. The howling. His chest felt weightless, for a moment. Uncompressed by longing and grief, his hearts beat freely.

The Doctor, with his hand to the wolf, wheezed out a shocked laugh as he suddenly remembered that these leaves were also the colour of flame. Of timeless, endless burning, searing and rewriting.

     "I bring life."

From its bark and its branches, from its roots and its high crown, the tree seemed to shiver out a very long sigh as he finally grasped its message. Everything has its time, it breathed. Its hope was golden.

The shades of it all swirled together and tangle, an infinite vortex, laden and dripping with life still to come, and it was beautiful.

The Doctor smiled, removed his hand, and turned from the tree.

Her time—and his—and theirs—was not yet over.

There was more to be done. And he was ready.

[renaisguy]

July activity check (+Heroes)

Passed!

Monthly skill point +1 Lance C (1/2) -> C+

So, Forde got into Heroes last month. This is very exciting, so I've decided to make a post just looking at his lines...

Is what I thought, but when I went to the wiki I found they hadn't been updated yet. So I spent the next hour or so typing out his (and Kyle's, and Amelia's, and Glen's).

Forde mentions Kyle 4 times, Ephraim 3 times and Franz once. Most of his lines are references to his supports. I'm not gonna quote everything, but here's some assorted thoughts I had:

Charcoal

"I'm sketching this hall. See, I use charcoal to draw and shade… Really just my way of recording memories." (Home)

"This? Oh- it's a sketch. I use this piece of charcoal to draw and shape like this." (Info screen)

He uses charcoal (as mentioned once in the Kyle C-support). I should uh, keep that in mind. Is a painting a painting if there's no paint?

Baby Kyle

"Oh, Kyle? He's been stuck-up since his plan to take over the nursery as a baby. Still… the ladies sure liked him." (Home)

I think this one undersells Kyle tbh. He made more than one plan:

Forde: When you were a baby, you were planning out strategies to take over the nursery. You were stuck up then, and you're stuck up now. And STILL the ladies liked you! (Kyle B-support)

"Kyle was so cool when we were children. I still remember how impressed I was." (Info screen)

This one's just cute.

VANESSA!

A couple of references to his A-support with Vanessa.

""I felt this warmth engulfing me, blowing across me like a summer wind. It must have been your energy." (Info screen)

"Feel my energy." (Critical quote)

Forde: Everyone has a different type of energy. Some energies can heal hearts, others spread courage. When you first saw me sleeping, I was dreaming of running across a field. I felt this warm energy engulfing me, blowing across my face like a summer wind. It must have been your energy that made me feel that way. Vanessa: My…energy? Forde: Would you like to feel my energy, too? (Vanessa A-support)

I have always loved this moment in his supports just for how out-of-pocket it is. Forde would be an astrology girlie. And let us be clear, Forde is flirting with Vanessa in this moment. This is his idea of a pick-up line. I'm obsessed.

Anyway let's just take a second to acknowledge that by association, Forde is not only flirting with the summoner, but every enemy he fights. Also the summoner has the same energy as Vanessa.

(One time I asked my brother to compare me to a fire emblem character he said Vanessa, so I'll take it I guess)

Franz

"When we lost our parents… well I don't know where I'd be now if I hadn't had Franz's help back then." (Info screen)

This is actually a reference to his supports with Ephraim.

Forde: When we lost our parents, I was shattered. Franz helped me get back on my feet. If I didn't have his help then, I don't know where I'd be today…

I don't talk about Franz enough. Let's get into this.

Forde and Franz's father died ten years before the events of FE8, and their mother died before then. Franz was too young to really remember them (Seth&Franz A-support, Amelia&Franz A-support, Kyle&Forde A-support).

Even before he died, their father was rarely at home, as he served in the army. Forde was sad, but Franz was constantly crying about it. To try to cheer him up, Forde drew a picture of their parents. (Seth&Franz A-support, Ephraim&Forde A-support)

In addition, a portrait of their mother hangs in their house, that Forde painted after he won a sword tournament. (We'll get back to this) (Kyle&Forde A-support)

You might notice here, that none of this is learnt in their supports with each other. The most they say about their parents is in their A-support:

Forde: …… …The last portrait I ever painted was of Mother… Franz: Mother? Forde: Never mind. Not important. (A-support)

Oh, and this only comes up because Forde is trying to make himself seem less cool than Franz thinks he is (sorry for the long wall of text it's all important I swear):

Franz: You are my role model. Forde: Franz, what's with you? All of a sudden, you-- Franz: No, it's not sudden at all. Come to think of it, I became a soldier so I could be like you. And now, I'm going to work harder, so I can be a great knight like you. Forde: That… That doesn't make any sense. Have you seen how lazy I am? Seriously. There are MUCH better role models out there for you to hero-worship. Franz: No, no. You like to act lazy. It's part of your charm, isn't it? But once the battle starts, everyone sees how sharp a warrior you are. Forde: Is that so? Franz: Yes, it is. And I also know that you like to play the part of the fool for no other reason than to give these weary soldiers a reason to smile. Forde: … Franz: And your sword and spear skills surpass those of any knight in the service of Renais, Frelia, or any other kingdom. Forde: Wow. Your flattery is far more than I deserve… Franz: The only reason you paint is to acquire a better understanding of geography, so that you can use that knowledge in battle… Forde: Nah… It's just a hobby. Don't give me too much credit. Franz: I'm not. Think about it. You only paint landscapes, isn't that true? Forde: …… …The last portrait I ever painted was of Mother… Franz: Mother? Forde: Never mind. Not important. Anyway, I'm shocked. SHOCKED. Yeah, if you need a role model, look to General Seth. Franz: Of course I admire General Seth. But that's just admiration. You're still my role model.

Right so the only reason their mother is brought up is because Forde's denying that his paintings are useful in battle. Which is interesting because...

Ephraim: …What is that? Is that a painting? Forde: This? No, no… No, it's a topographic map! Yes. For strategy. We need to plot out our strategy, don't we? During battles, I like to look at this map and analyze enemy lines… Ephraim: But…that's clearly a landscape painting. Forde: … (Ephraim C-support)

It's an excuse he's used before. With this, it's clear that he doesn't want Prince Ephraim to think badly of him, but isn't comfortable with Franz thinking so highly of him.

But even so, there's one thing Franz says that he doesn't try to refute:

Franz: Yes, it is. And I also know that you like to play the part of the fool for no other reason than to give these weary soldiers a reason to smile. Forde: ...

Hypothesis: Franz is correct. Interpretation: Forde remains positive so that those around him can stay positive. Extrapolation: Forde's been doing the same since their parents died. Conclusion: Forde will heavily downplay his emotional state for the sake of not worrying others. When he says Franz helped him get on his feet when their parents died (bear in mind Franz would be at most 8 at this point), he partially means that if he realised that if he let himself succumb to despair, Franz would do the same.

Got back to Heroes eventually.

Portraits

I'm not getting into the Forging Bonds that deeply, but they touched on a lot of the same things his level 40 convo does, just with 100% more Rosado (hell yeah).

"You wanna know why I don't paint portraits? I gotta say, I'm impressed you noticed. You see… When I was a kid, I beat Kyle in a tournament for swordsman trainees. It was pretty remarkable. But my mother was more pleased about a portrait I drew of her than my victory in the tournament. I didn't understand at the time, but now I get why she wanted me to wield a brush over a sword. My last portrait was of her. Maybe one day I'll want to do more, if I can put down my sword for a bit. Yeesh! Not like me to get so introspective. Something about you… I can talk for ages. Come on, let's go." (Upon reaching level 40)

This is basically the Forde&Kyle A-support. Which I'm very happy about as it includes my favourite line from all of Forde's supports:

Forde: She rejoiced more in my skill with the brush than in my skill with the sword. I never understood why… Not until recently, at any rate.

Though the detail that his mother was the last portrait he drew is only found in Franz's A-support.

Right, so Forde doesn't do portraits. He'll never, ever paint another portrait...

Eirika: Would you ever consider… doing a portrait of me? Forde: I'm sorry? Eirika: Is that distasteful to you? Forde: No! No… It's just that I so rarely do portraits. Eirika: So, it would be a bother? Forde: Not at all! A bother? Really. This request comes from my princess. I'd be more than happy to. (Eirika B-support)

Forde: It is because of you that we can go on. You and the prince are here, risking your lives for the cause. Your guidance, your leadership… It gives us a reason to live as well. Eirika: A reason…to live? Forde: Yes… To restore that radiant smile to your own lovely face. Eirika: Oh! Forde: I fight to see you smile again, to drive the worry from your face. If I can do that, then I will be more than happy to paint your portrait. (Eirika A-support)

I really love the Forde and Eirika supports. It's really sweet that despite everything, he's able to find someone he wants to paint again. It's also the support conversation where he becomes the most dedicated to being a good night. (well, good as he can be without too much effort).

Yeah

Overall, I'm very happy with how Forde's been portrayed in Heroes. There's only one problem I have... which comes from some of Kyle's lines...

"Kyle, of the knights of Renais." (Info screen)

"My life has been in service of Renais since the moment I took my chivalric vows." (Info screen)

"We ride for Renais!" (Critical quote)

One thing you might notice... all of the above lines are voiced...

This entire time, I've been pronouncing Renais as "Ren-eye", to rhyme with "Guy". But Kyle pronounces it as "Ren-ay", which rhymes with... no, I shan't say it...

[quietwingsinthesky]

If you are still taking prompts how about a scene with lucifer worshipping sam like hes heavenly gift - basically just luci giving sam a self-esteem boost (because tbh sam really needs one)

hello anon! i think this one got a little... weird? but i hope it's what you were looking for :3

When Sam says that he is unholy, it’s resigned. 

Deaths around me since I was born, he presents as evidence, without Dean or Dad vouching for me, I think I would’ve been shot before I turned eighteen. Always knew there was something wrong, deep down. Demon blood rotting my veins.

He doesn’t list Lucifer as one of the reasons he’s damned. Not to his face, if he does believe it, but Lucifer doesn’t think so. They’ve spent too long entangled. Sam knows his sins as well as his punishment, his part in the grand play and how few scenes he was written to be in before curtain call. Blame grows like vines up a wall, reaching higher and higher for who was actually at fault. Sam was going to be Lucifer’s from the moment he fell, but Lucifer was always going to fall. Placing the onus on God is harder for someone who never met him. (Lucifer speaks as someone who can’t despite that. Even closing his vessel's eyes can make him feel trapped, and he still loves the God who caged him.)

So, the vines reach nowhere before they’re torn down by Sam himself beside the tall stone. He takes their straining bodies and wraps them around himself to mimic chains when no one else will bind him. He leads himself to the gallows to choke for betrayals he had no control over. He thinks he’s to blame for being a baby who smiled at a stranger over his crib before the sour taste of sulfur splashed on his tongue. Someone has to be punished for it. 

If a stay in Hell couldn’t make him feel pure, how does he think tearing himself apart will?

Sam is stubborn, but he was made in Lucifer’s image and they both learned from hardheaded older brothers how to stand their ground. As many times as Sam tries to tie his own noose, Lucifer will sit beside him and undo the knots without judgment. 

After all, Sam threw him back into Hell, and Lucifer still loves him. He can’t blame Sam for anything.

His greatest crime, Sam always claims, was freedom. He knows this, taught to him by Heaven’s sifted memories and his brother’s scowl at his happiest moments. Lucifer is hungry for every minute of Sam’s life that he missed, and though most scars are ones Sam will tell stories about in detail, (“-two of them coming at me, with claws as long as my forearm, and one got lucky-“) Lucifer had an easier time wrangling the horsemen than he does getting Sam to tell him about Stanford. 

It’s strangely easier for Sam when Lucifer wears another face. With long blonde hair falling around his shoulders and soft brown eyes and a mole between his brows that Sam will press a kiss to, he’s allowed to hear about that secret life. Sam doesn’t call him Jessica anymore, but when he tells Lucifer about her, he holds him like he's half-memory, half-dream. He talks about his other friends, faces that, if he’s lucky, he hasn’t seen in years, and if he’s not… Lucifer still has yet to drag that out of him, even though he knows already about the devils on Sam’s shoulder before him. 

Lucifer kept track of exactly how long he was locked away, on Earth and in Hell. On Earth, he measure it against the rise of man’s empires. As for Hell, humans haven’t bothered to invent a number that high. Most of the stars he watched be created and grew alongside are now younger than him by millennia. 

So it is not lightly that Lucifer tells Sam that freedom is never a sin.

He’s not sure Sam believes him. 

Sam will take on every burden tossed his way. Most people seem happy to let him. Lucifer will not see him crushed. He’s too lovely for that. Too important. (After all, he’s Lucifer’s entire world. That must mean he’s the center of the universe, more gravitational pull that the sun.)

It has to be like this: in the shade of the Bunker’s main building, where the grass grows a deeper shade of green than the other side because the soil is better for reasons Lucifer is still puzzling out, Lucifer pushes Sam into a wall and kisses him. Sam makes a noise, surprise, but he came out on Lucifer’s invitation for some fresh air and he doesn’t push him away. There are dandelions growing in the crack between the cement and the ground it sticks out of. Lucifer nudges Sam’s feet gently to the side so that he doesn’t accidentally step on one. 

“If you wanted somewhere we could make out in private, my door has a lock,” Sam says as Lucifer breaks the kiss to let him breathe. His lungs expand and deflate in a strong, steady rhythm. His heart beats calmly. Lucifer listens to it. He’d gotten used to spending entire nights keeping track of Sam’s heart, fear gripping him every time it would skip a beat or weaken. The trials would have taken everything from Lucifer. He is sick of his Father’s ultimate sacrifices or how Sam always seems to be the one who must lie down on the altar. 

“That’s not it,” he says. He kisses Sam again for the easy joy of it. Sam melts into him. He has mostly recovered thanks to Lucifer’s attention, but sometimes, the weakness will strike back again. Sam’s gotten very used to leaning on Lucifer. “I want you to understand something.” Sam’s mouth curves into a smile. Lucifer lifts a finger to trace the dimple that forms. 

“What?” he asks. 

“How good you are,” Lucifer says. He can feel the words rip through Sam worse than any barb, and that hurts. He’s more used to insults than praise, no matter how Lucifer tries to make up the difference. 

“Lucifer, that’s not-“ Sam tries for the first time to push him away, and though Lucifer allows distance between them, he doesn’t let Sam run from this. Not when he needs it. Instead, he runs his fingertips gently over Sam’s skin while he’s kept at arm’s length. Sam relaxes under his touch, never fully, but Lucifer is still reintroducing him to all the love he’s allowed to have. He trails his touch up Sam’s arm to the hand keeping him at bay, firmly clasping Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer wraps his hand around it.

“This world doesn’t deserve you as its savior,” he tells Sam. Sam shakes his head, and Lucifer wonders which part he’s denying more, that he’s too good for the world or that he ever even saved it. They were both there in Stull, two parts of one whole, but somehow it’s only Lucifer who remembers it for the victory it was. “It’s lucky that you don’t care. That all it would take is one decent soul to convince you it’s worth it. They don’t even have to be pure. They just have to be trying to do better, and you’ll walk into fire for them.”

“That’s just my job,” Sam downplays. 

“No, your job is to hunt. No one makes you care. You’ve chosen to do that all on your own, no matter how hard it is.” Because it is hard, even for Sam. He’s as human as the rest of them. He gets frustrated and angry and hurt. He extends kindness anyway. 

Lucifer should know. Who else would find the devil half-dead on their doorstep while trying to close Hell and still bring him in from the cold? Who else would have given him a second chance he never earned?

Sam’s grip on his shoulder falters. Lucifer leans back in until his mouth meets Sam’s again. 

“I wish I could share how I see you, Sam,” Lucifer says. “You shine so bright.” Sam laughs bitterly like Lucifer’s told a poor joke.

“I went to Hell,” he argues. “I couldn’t even finish the final trial. There’s nothing pure, nothing bright, about me.”

“Hell tried to snuff you out. The trials tried to burn you until there was nothing left. You are so much more beautiful for having survived them.” And beautiful makes Sam flinch. Something Lucifer knows for certain: before him, no one had ever called Sam that, except maybe as a joke. Handsome, sure, and he is, but he’s beautiful, too, and Lucifer needs him to believe that. He will, one day. Lucifer is nothing if not persistent.

“Why do you care so much about what I think?” Sam whispers. Lucifer bumps his forehead to Sam’s, and Sam’s hand comes up to rest on the back of his neck and hold him close.

“Someone should,” Lucifer says. He shuts his eyes and thinks for ways to make Sam understand how much this matters. It goes beyond simple pride. 

And maybe that’s how to show Sam he’s serious. 

Lucifer presses one more kiss to his lips to steel himself. His grace recoils at the vulnerability of what he wants to give Sam, but he wrestles it into obedience. Sam is blinking back tears, mostly succeeding but for one or two that glance off his cheek as they escape the tip of an eyelash. Lucifer kisses the wet spots they leave. 

Arduously, he forces himself to his knees. The very concept of him rebels against it. He sits at Sam’s feet like the dandelions beside his heels. It takes everything in him to gaze upwards at Sam and see his expression. Sam’s mouth is agape. His hair falls forward into his eyes as he looks back down at Lucifer. He can’t seem to remember how to speak, and that’s just as well because Lucifer can’t either. He reaches up for Sam’s hands and manages to capture both of them in his own.

Sam is leaning back against the wall. Lucifer tips into him. His thighs lift off of his heels as he pushes himself forward. He rests his head against Sam’s stomach.

It’s peaceful. Lucifer won’t go as far as to say that he feels like he belongs there, but it’s nostalgic, in a way. He forces the air out of his vessel’s lungs. It makes the bottom of Sam’s shirt ruffle. 

One of Sam’s hands escapes Lucifer’s. It finds its way to the back of Lucifer’s head, and the uncertain scratch of nails over his scalp settles him enough that he can speak again.

“You are good,” he tells Sam. “You are good. You are good.” He repeats himself. He’s out of practice with prayer. He hopes the mantra will do. Maybe Sam can teach him a thing or two later.

Sam listens, and maybe, Lucifer hopes, he starts to believe it.

[purpureumwrites]

Darth Vader x Reader | Twin Moons | Bonus Chapter

A/N: Anon asked for more Twin Moons, I read the message, and for some reason, after not writing for so long, I just couldn't stop myself. So here is the bonus chapter. If someone has a good idea for another Vader one-shot or fic, I'd be happy to hear it. I really enjoy writing him, and it really bothers me when he's written ooc, which is way too often tbh, so I try to capture him as best as I can and it's quite fun. Hope you like this c:

Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1.5k.

A year ago, the two of you had reached an agreement. A fragile, very risky, agreement.

Keeping a curated public image, you continued your days behaving as the typical superior and subordinate would. No displays of affection, not a single trace of anything beyond a professional relationship. You mimicked the way everyone else reacted and conducted themselves around him: with caution, docility and a constant dose of fear. Not that you had to fake much of it. You may have gotten closer than most, but neither would pretend he wasn’t Darth Vader. It wasn’t just about being caught. He was a risk himself.

You endured the lectures, punishments and trials expected, some by his own hand, some by others. You trained and worked tenaciously, always dancing over the line of averageness. Enough to be useful and worth of working with him as your boss, but always short of presenting yourself as competition in the intricate game of power within the Empire.

Your training with the Force never finished. There were no official sessions anymore, but he hadn’t stopped teaching you and testing your abilities. You had managed to damp it down, restrain it. Even though it would probably be useless if you were to meet the Emperor himself, it could save you a lot of trouble and attention from everyone else. It was a constant effort that had gained you a finesse and control over it that you never thought you would have.

It felt unnatural at first. This energy had been something natural and flowing, not to be reined in and obfuscated, but to be felt and experienced just as the wind or the sun could be. You worried sometimes about bursting. But if there was something that could push those thoughts aside, it was fear and of that you had plenty.

After a few weeks of routine, you got used to the rhythm. What you couldn’t get used to, was him. Actually him. Intimate, personal him.

Sex had so many shades. It was needy and abrupt when you had spent too much time apart, each on your own missions. It was slow and steady if you had the time and privacy. It was harsh and overpowering after you misbehaved.

You couldn’t say he had become open and vulnerable to you. Most probably, that would never happen. But he was more tolerant and more aware of your cues, and he seeked your presence unlike any other. He may not love you, probably wouldn’t admit it even if he did, but at least he seemed to feel some warped version of it. You weren’t sure if you did anyway. The power balance was so off that lines blurred where they shouldn’t, and feelings were a convoluted mess. It would hurt if he discarded you and you missed him dearly when apart. That was all you needed to know.

As he kneeled before his master, Vader focused only on his current objective. There was nothing else, not until this business was done and he was out of there. Just as he had done countless times before.

Once you had established the nature of your relationship and its rules, he easily compartmentalized that new side of his life. It was crucial that he did. He would feel the consequences, he would be punished for it, but you… you would pay the price with your life. You were the only thing the Emperor had no control over in his life. He would kill you in a blink to regain absolute power over him.

It was a necessity that he saw you struggle with the first few weeks. He treated you the same as anyone else which, to be fair, meant as cruel and brutal as the rest of his subordinates endured. He could see glimpses of sadness in your eyes, that the rest would mistake for horror. And you would be more quiet and withdrawn the next time you were together. He never apologized, there was nothing to be sorry for. He did what he had to do. Though he couldn’t deny that he may be more gentle those nights.

But as quick as you seemed to learn everything else, you adapted to it. He hated the intensity of his emotions around you but… god, was he proud of you. Maybe you weren’t a natural at many aspects your position asked of you, maybe you still struggled from time to time, maybe you were scared deep down. But you were resilient, strong and tenacious.

And the same way you got used to some things, he had gotten used to others. The closeness, the weight of your body on his bed, the warmth when you locked your arms around him, the intoxicating, glorious sex. He longed for you when you were separated in a way he was sure he never would again.

And together, you were serving the Empire with unrelentent determination.

***

A sudden tug pulled you out of your sleep. You looked around the red lit room, finding no one. The sea of lava outside the fortress was all that could be seen through the windows, an unexpected scenery for such a calm place, at least from the other side of its black, impenetrable walls.

“Run”, a voice roared in your mind.

You jumped out from under the sheets. That was his voice. He wasn’t in Mustafar, there were no alarms going off in the building and the outside looked exactly the same as any other day, which could only mean that whatever this imminent danger was, it was coming only for you.

Putting your clothes on, you went over the steps of the emergency plan: pick up your bag, run to the closest, most discreet vessel you could find and fly off to a planet with weak imperial presence. Probably stop on the way there in some space station (one dodgy enough for anyone with common sense to avoid) for some fuel and quick alterations to the ship. Pick a new name. Tiptoe around for the rest of your life.

You had no time to assimilate the situation. You ran through the corridors as if in a trance, your feet moving by themselves, everything feeling like a dream you couldn’t wake up from. It didn’t really hit you until you had been sat in the ship for a couple of hours. Once the adrenaline started to wore off and you were semi-confident that there were no imperials following you, you held onto the arms of your chair as you started sobbing.

It didn’t matter how much you thought you were ready for this, how aware you were of the outcomes of your decision. Your life ended here. Maybe you would die or maybe you would disappear. Whatever your future entailed, it was certain the person you were until that very moment would soon expire. You would be no longer.

After you reached the worst space station you had ever stepped in and agreed to some questionable customization for your ship, you rented a small, bleak room to rest for a couple of hours before you made your final trip to your potential new, depressing home planet.

You weren’t even deeply asleep, you were still too agitated, when the door opened. You felt him before even opening your eyes. You sat up in the bed, staring at your legs embarrassed by your own weakness, a tear already rolling down your cheek. He sat next to you in complete silence.

A few seconds passed before he spoke. “They are going through your room in my fortress. You’re still hours ahead of them”

You didn’t answer. Neither of you moved until you felt his arm around your waist pulling you to him. As he pat the bed, you moved instinctively to straddle him. You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck and finally feeling some sense of release when he held you tight.

“You will survive this, girl”

“Will you?”

“I will not be crushed so easily”

After… seconds, maybe minutes, your sense of time had been warped since you woke up, he stood up with you still in his arms. As he loosened his grip, you put your feet on the ground.

“I have taught you better than this”

“I know”, you looked up to him. “I’m sorry. This is going surprisingly worse and better than I had imagined, at the same time, somehow”. You wiped the last tears off your face. "I will miss you"

“Go to your ship after I leave. Don’t look back. He will be searching for you”, he said walking towards the door, but stopped for a moment. “I will not forget you”

[sxdomizer]

OC RAMBLES: MOLOTOV

I'm suddenly inspired, so I wanna talk about Molotov for a little here. Doing this for myself mostly but if anybody feels like reading, HOORAY-- asks always welcome ofc

He's existential as fuck. Like, really existential. He gets philosophical with it, too, so much that he gets trapped in his own thoughts a lot; he can disassociate for hours, especially at night or when it's quiet & he's alone. He wonders about who made him, and why. Being surrounded by living things when he barely considers himself one is.. tough. He especially struggles with the idea of having a family.

He can't feel most (physical) things. Temperature and pain are some of the biggest examples of these, but others include things like itches, tickles, hunger, thirst, etc. He can, however, sense pressure, so that's one of the things that brings him the most comfort. He can only really feel touch as we do in more sensitive places like his face (especially his nose).

Other than his lack of sense of touch, his other senses work fine. He hears fine, sees fine, hears fine, he can even taste-- one thing he can't (shouldn't) do, however, is consume food or drink. Mostly because it doesn't really go anywhere, and if food isn't decomposed by the body, it decomposes itself, and he doesn't need to experience that... not inside his body, anyway.

He tends to be a little hyperactive, but he can focus on things for long periods of time, too. Early on in his life, he spent most of his time studying, and willingly spent literal days with his face buried in books. This became a bit of a problem later on, though, because he loses track of time quite easily, and a day at the library is more often than not cut short by closing time.

BIIIIIG fan of R&B. Music in general is amazing, but he especially likes the almost poetic nature of R&B and rap music. Sure, most of the time the lyrics can be a little.. interesting to pay attention to, but he really sees himself in some of the songs. He's the type to say that "(X music writer) is a genius".

Despite his enthusiasm for knowledge and studying, he isn't very "street smart" outside the battlefield. Sure, he can fight, but he'll be nice to anyone. He can't really read people, so "shade" isn't really one of his worries. There's good in everyone if you just look hard enough, dig deep enough. Violence should be a last resort.

His years outside his cabin were spent on the streets. He was a nomad, travelling wherever destiny took him, working with and selling whatever he could. His main interests are weaponry & explosives, so he mostly built those and illegally sold them. Thanks to his ties to that, he was caught in fights quite often.

He never liked staying in a single place for long, mostly because resources quickly ran dry. Finding salvagable material is rare enough, so he saved what he could and his inventory rotated accordingly.

Without the need for eating or drinking, most of his money was spent on materials, bullets, or cigarettes. If he didn't buy these, he traded for them.

There are dents and burns along his body, but somehow no bullet holes. More often than not, he was on the shooting side.

No matter how low resources got, he used to always keep a rifle and a few bombs with him, just for self-defense. He gave those up eventually when he stopped associating with that life.

After he settled down, he became a tutor! Finally being able to put his knowledge to use in ways other than building weapons is like a dream. He'd become a teacher if he didn't need to go to college for that, but his lack of an education prevents him from it.

So that's about it for the time being, mostly because I don't know what else to write but. YAY MOLO

If this gets enough positive feedback (any at all tbh) maybe I'll write some more,,,, if I have the time

again, asks are welcomed and encouraged, thanks for taking the time to read :)

[underratedandoverit]

they dont see you but i do (and i love you)

~5k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

whaddup have a secret relationship fic. this got unnecessarily long but who cares its good lol. slight shades of angst and some hurt/comfort, especially closer to the end, but its basically your usual pondering over difficult relationships stuff that you should be used from me by now if you come here often lol. oh also kris is here as ive fallen in love with writing her and i dont even know if im doing her that good LOL kip says fuck too many times. as per usual. other than that theres not really anything to warrant a high rating for it tbh

@midnightpretenders0 @stormbornpirate

on ao3

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

Laying on the bed, Kip eyed the ceiling opening above him, listening to the quiet sounds around him. It was just another week of this, being stuck in the hotel room, waiting for the next day to roll around so he could get to work. Take care of business there as per usual, get back to the hotel for the night, fly home the next day, and wait anxiously to repeat the whole thing next week.

It was the same thing week in and week out.

But at the same time, he didn’t really mind it in the end, Kip thought as he watched the bathroom door being pushed open, the blond walking out and approaching the bed. Cassidy plopped sitting down to the bed next to him, running a lazy hand through Kip’s brightly colored hair, the Brit sending him a tired smile.

“Long flight?” Cassidy asked, as if he hadn’t just spent like ten minutes making himself presentable after coming in from his own flight. Kip just chuckled at him quietly, scooting a bit closer as he snuggled against Cassidy’s side. He didn’t need to reply to the question, the answer was pretty obvious to both of them.

“Just happy you’re here finally,” he muttered into Cassidy’s side, the blond nodding despite knowing Kip couldn’t see the response from him. He continued to run a hand through his hair, spinning coils of it around his finger as Cassidy stared off into the distance across the room, briefly wondering why Kip hadn’t turned the television on while he had been waiting. They had arrived separately despite sharing a hotel room, like usually, not only because it would have taken one of them a good hour or two or maybe more of waiting for the other’s plane to land.

But also because the newly blossoming relationship was still a secret they were both in mutual agreement trying to kind of hold under the wraps to their coworkers and people around them, in hopes of being able to break the news when the response would have been at least a little bit less turbulent than what it would have been with them coming off from as heated of an on-screen feud as they had had the past couple of months.

Honestly at least to Cassidy it wouldn’t have been a huge surprise if some people had already started to put the pieces together, even if they had been openly sworn enemies up to just a few weeks ago. While they didn’t spend time together publicly, it was probably very obvious they were both hiding something from their own friend groups. Cassidy sure as hell knew Chuck and Trent had been asking him questions why he always disappeared so fast after the shows and never flew in early anymore for fun outings the nights before and so forth, and he always had to come up with some excuses like just wanting to spend some more time at home or the convenience of late hour flights. Kip had very similar stories to tell, and while they didn’t really have many mutual friends, surely someone at this point had started to think things. Like Cassidy had seen the way both Kris and Danhausen looked at him when he was talking about all of this.

“Clementine? Are you listening?”

Cassidy snapped out of his thoughts, looking down at the questioning look from Kip as the other man gently poked him on the thigh to gather his attention again. Cassidy shook his head a little, letting out a sigh. “Sorry. What’s up?”

“I was just thinking,” Kip started, pushing himself up into a sitting position next to him, leaning his back against the backboard of the bed. “Since I’m going to visit home next week. Why don’t you come with me? We can have a little getaway away from work together.”

Cassidy’s brows furrowed a bit as he processed the rather out of character proposal from Kip. He had been talking about going back to the UK to visit for a while now, but this was the first time he had directly made a comment about them possibly taking on this trip together, and something about him so randomly bringing this up now just felt very odd to Cassidy.

“I don’t know if I can get a whole week off.”

Kip pouted at him a little, knowing full well that wasn’t the only reason he was hesitant to immediately agree to his little proposal. “You’ve been working almost every single week for almost a year now. You can have a little time off, I’m sure. It would just be really nice to have some company.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you could ask?” Kip rolled his eyes, already knowing that Cassidy was going to try to pull as many excuses as possible to avoid being dragged along to this. “It would raise a lot of questions if we both flew to the UK at the same time when there’s nothing going on over there that we need to promote or appear in. Sharing a flight, sharing the time, sharing--”

“Yeah, okay, I get it, you don’t wanna go.” Kip turned away from him, clearly irritated by this turn of events as he leaned away, fetching the remote from the nightstand on his side of the bed, turning the television on. “You don’t have to be so rude about it.”

“It would just be suspicious if--”

“And what does that matter?” Kip asked with a sigh, Cassidy already regretting ever answering anything when this topic was brought up. “We’ve been dancing around this topic for weeks now. Is that ever going to fucking stop, or are we going to just keep this as a secret forever? It’s been like, what, two months at least now and nothing has changed except we just need to keep being more and more careful as time goes on. Do you understand how exhausting that is?”

It wasn’t really a surprise to Cassidy that Kip was bringing all of this up, and honestly he was right about it too. It had been a few weeks now, and it was wearing both of them down steadily, but surely. Constantly having to arrange things around one another but still keep being together a secret, never answering their friends questions about their free time anymore, not being able to spend time together while they were at work… It was all very exhausting, yes, but at the same time maybe that was at this point in time still better than potentially facing the backlash of bringing this whole relationship into light.

Cassidy just really had no idea how to tell all that to Kip in a way he would understand it better, especially when he knew just as well as the Brit himself did that Kip was already very well aware of all of these facts too.

“I just wish we could act like… I don’t know, fucking normal I guess, around other people too. I just want to be able to do stuff with you without it being all like this.”

Kip didn’t need to specify what “this” meant in this context, Cassidy already knew it. This was far from the first time they had talked about this, far from the first time either of them had tried to push out some ideas to maybe bring this all into the light. Cassidy less so, but nonetheless, to both of them this was an issue they needed to solve. Eventually more so for Cassidy, if he was being honest. Sure being so secretive was stressful and taxing, but at the same time he felt like this was all working out really well for the two of them, and having to bring it all out to the public when he didn’t know what kind of a general reaction they would get, was probably actually making him feel more anxious than trying to continue to hide it all for as long as possible until the world was ready to hear about the two of them in his mind.

“Whatever. Forget I even asked. I’ll just go alone, it’s fine.”

Before Cassidy could even muster an apology out of him, let alone a reply of any sort, Kip pushed himself up from the bed, picking up his bag on the way as he headed for the bathroom. A heavy sigh escaped from Cassidy as he heard the shower being turned on soon after, knowing that while the conversation was now definitely over for the night, on the long term the struggle had just started. While they hadn’t maybe been together for that long yet, he already had a very clear vision of what kind of a person Kip was especially in a relationship, and Cassidy knew full well when he set his mind onto something like this, Kip wasn’t going to let it go before he got what he wanted. Or something went terribly wrong while he was trying to get his desired results.

Cassidy just wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to give it to him yet. Eventually, obviously, if things between them went on well enough for long enough, they would make it official publicly as well to at least their friends and coworkers. But right now he still wasn’t entirely sure about it. While it didn’t feel very fast, it wasn’t like they had just gotten together yesterday, it had been a couple of weeks at this point, something about it was still off putting to him.

Maybe it was the fact that it had been a while and they were still hiding it. Obviously Kip didn’t really like that anymore, and Cassidy wasn’t even sure why they had carried it out this long. Out of habit probably, but it still felt more comfortable to him than putting it out there. Something about keeping it a secret felt safe, even if it was definitely the more taxing option, and he just wanted to cling onto that feeling maybe.

He shook his head, hand reaching for the remote as he turned the television off before proceeding to prepare himself for bed. It was obvious no more conversations were going to be had tonight, and it was late already, they really did need to sleep in order to be able to get to work tomorrow. Turning the lights off Cassidy listened to the sound of the running water coming from the bathroom as he returned to the bed, settling himself comfortably under the blanket. Kip was taking his sweet time, probably trying to distance himself from the previous conversation, giving them both time to breath. Or at least that’s what Cassidy was hoping for.

Trying to calm his own mind with a couple of deep inhales, Cassidy settled on his spot in the bed, snuggling his head against the pillow and closed his eyes. He was already tired from all the traveling and the mental toll all of this was taking on him, so it didn’t take Cassidy long to fall asleep despite the situation around him.

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

Navigating his way through backstage, Cassidy was basically looking for any possible glimpse of Kip he could. He hadn’t seen Kip since last night, by the time morning rolled around and Cassidy woke up, Kip was already gone from the hotel room. It wasn’t anything unusual for them to leave at different times to avoid suspicion, but usually they at least had breakfast together before leaving. And this morning Kip was just gone, before he even woke up, which was unusual for him, especially since usually Cassidy was the one that left first as Kip liked to sleep in and took longer in general to get ready for the day.

Cassidy didn’t blame him after what transpired the night before, but truth to be told, he was a little hurt by it all, there was no denying that. At least if something positive came out of this, Cassidy knew now fully where Kip stood with this topic, and it made it easier for him to make up his mind about it too.

Well. At least somewhat easier. Pulling the trigger on something like this especially when you had to afterwards explain to all of your friends why you had been hiding it from them for weeks wasn’t going to be easy. Cassidy already knew that at least Chuck was going to freak out at him no matter what. But at least if that happened, they would easily use his reaction as one of the key example reasons why they had decided to keep it under wraps up until this point.

Finally stopping the fruitless search and pushing the locker room door open, Cassidy was rather surprised to actually find it empty. Usually he was the last one to arrive out of their group, especially when they spent the morning hiding away at the hotel with Kip. Maybe it shouldn’t have been so surprising to him that the rest of the Best Friends hadn’t arrived yet, considering that things hadn’t happened this morning. With a sigh he flung his bag on the couch, taking a seat next to it.

He was going to get to see Kip eventually, that much was for sure. Even if he had gotten so irritated with Cassidy that he somehow would have gone through getting a whole separate hotel room, which Cassidy doubted but wasn’t completely ruling out immediately considering how last night had gone, they still had a big multi men tag team match between their respective groups happening tonight. So at least they were going to be sharing the ring tonight, if not the bed later.

Thankfully he didn’t have to be alone with his thoughts for too long, as soon the door swung open again, Cassidy watching Kris stroll in, a smile landing on her face as soon as she saw the blond sitting on the couch.

“Orange! Perfect!” Cassidy just shrugged back at her as he leaned back on his seat, just kind of hoping tonight would be over quickly. Kris parked her luggage next to the couch before walking around the room, quickly checking in the shower and bathroom before returning to Cassidy. “The rest of the boys are not here yet?”

He shook his head, the smile just growing bigger on her face as Kris threw herself down on the couch next to him. “Good, I wanted to ask you something.”

Cassidy didn’t even have time to let the dread build inside of him before Kris already blurted out the words he had been hoping nobody would be directing at him any time soon.

“Sooooo you are dating someone, aren’t you?”

Cassidy didn’t need to reply, as the way he tensed up visibly at the question already told Kris everything she needed to know, making her gasp a little bit in excitement as she pushed herself up in a proper sitting position on the couch, her eyes never leaving Cassidy as she did. “I knew it! The boys didn’t believe me but I knew it!”

“Kris, please--”

“Who is it? Do I know them? How did you meet? How long have you been together? What--”

“Kris. Please.”

She pouted a little at being interrupted, but quieted down pretty fast seeing how exhausted Cassidy was already about this whole thing. The blond just sighed, removing the sunglasses from his face before he wiped a clearly frustrated hand over it, letting out the sigh.

“If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”

Kris didn’t reply, just watched as Cassidy put the sunglasses back on, trying to relax a little on his seat. He knew it was pointless to try to hide the truth from Kris at this point obviously, but this was also maybe one of the worst possible times she could have actually brought this up with him. Whatever he said, it was either not going to convince her, or she was just going to keep on asking more questions, no matter what. And Cassidy just really didn’t want to think about all of this right now.

“…Sorry.”

Cassidy glanced in her direction, watching Kris’ eyes land on her lap, her fingertips tracing the folds of her jeans as she was trying to find a direction to take this conversation. Cassidy sighed again, shaking his head a little. “It’s fine. Or whatever.”

“Sorry,” she muttered again, reflecting his sigh with a quiet one of her own. “I just got excited. We’ve been speculating about this a lot with the guys and, well…”

Her voice trailed off, but Cassidy just nodded a little. Obviously the lies he had been telling had been easy to read through, honestly he was pretty sure the only reason why Kris was the one thinking along the right lines was because of Chuck and Trent’s denial about the situation, which was probably also why she was the first one confronting him and not either of them. He couldn’t blame her though, not only because she was right, but this was obviously a fairly big deal. Big enough to potentially disrupt the group dynamic even, especially if they found out who it exactly was that Cassidy was involved with.

“…You’re right though.”

Kris looked back up at him, blinking blankly at him a couple of times as she was registering his words in her brain. Cassidy just shrugged. He had no real reason to hide it from her if she had already figured it out up to this point. Denying her the truth only to hopefully eventually bring it up again wasn’t going to leave pretty marks. “But you can’t tell them, okay? We are not…”

He stopped to think about it for a moment, shaking his head slightly. “I’m not ready for that yet.”

For what it was worth, Kip obviously seemed to want to take the next step sooner or later, way earlier than he was ready for it honestly. Cassidy understood his side of things, but then again, Kip didn’t seem to have as much hanging here as he did. He hated to say it, but Kip seemed to have much more supportive friends in this case than he did. He never complained about anyone around him probing him for extra details about his life or the times he didn’t spend around them like the people around Cassidy seemed to do. And he knew Kip loved to complain, so this wasn’t just a thing he didn’t talk to Cassidy about. It just didn’t happen at all, or even nearly to the degree it happened almost on a weekly basis at this point with Cassidy.

He sighed. “I’m not ready for that yet.”

Kris nodded her head, sending him a little encouraging smile. “Of course. Again, sorry, I got a little carried away there. Just… When you’re comfortable, okay? I would love to hear all about it. For support, not for gossip. Obviously.”

Cassidy chuckled a little, glad not only for Kris’ immediate understanding but her lighthearted way of trying to lighten up the mood. “Sure.”

“Just,” she started, eyes trailing off as she glanced around the room, slightly awkwardly trying to look at anything but Cassidy in the moment, “You don’t have to answer, of course, but… Why?” His eyes narrowed at her behind the sunglasses, Kris just shrugging a little. “Why aren’t you ready? Why is this a secret?”

He had a million answers to it that he could give to her. So many ways to say it, so many ways not to. A lie for every truth he had in him. Instead he just motioned vaguely with one lazy hand around him, watching Kris raise a brow at him. Cassidy wasn’t sure what kind of an answer she had been expecting after all that, but apparently it wasn’t really this. But the look in her eyes still told him that she got it.

“…Is it the guys?”

Neither of them was sure why Kris was even asking, as soon as the question left her lips the answer was very obvious. Even more so as almost on cue the locker room door opened again, the two people in question walking into the room, Trent following up in Chuck’s leading footsteps. As both Kris and Cassidy turned towards them Chuck froze on his spot, glancing between the two of them, it being very obvious that they had interrupted something important here.

“Sorry, bad timing?”

Both of them just shook their heads, not answering anything beyond that despite the suspicious look they gathered from Chuck.

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

He knocked on the locker room door, but was met only with silence. This was expected though and it didn’t falter his plan as Cassidy just pushed the door open, not being surprised in the slightest to find the other man sitting there, sulking all by himself. He was right where he was promised to be.

As he heard the door open, Kip glanced towards it, obviously annoyed as he had wanted to be left alone for a while, a genuine look of surprise crossing his face at the sight of his boyfriend instead of one his stablemates like he had been obviously expecting.

“Clemen--”

Kip stopped himself before the affectionate nickname slipped from his mouth, quickly turning away to hide the slight shade of pink that climbed on his cheeks. Cassidy did his best to pretend he didn’t see any of it as he walked up to the other man, in his head trying to decide if Kip was being so bashful about it because of what had transpired in the ring and he was hurt about it, or if this was about trying to not show such affection towards him in public. He wasn’t entirely sure, but it was probably a bit of both.

“What do you want? Didn’t you already mock me enough out there?”

Cassidy glanced down at the ice pack he was holding in one hand that Kip had obviously missed him carrying, carefully extending it towards Kip, placing it against the side of his face. The Brit flinched away a little, but as Cassidy insisted on holding it against him, Kip hesitantly accepted it into his own hands.

“I didn’t mean to hit you that hard. Sorry.”

Kip muttered something that sounded like an insult back at him, still refusing to look back at Cassidy. The blond observed him for a moment, finally taking a seat on the bench next to him. Kip didn’t look at him, to be honest Cassidy was pretty sure he turned a little bit more away from him actually. The blond opted out to observe his hands as the stiff silence fell in the room between the two of them, it being obvious that some of this tension needed to be relieved one way or another.

Cassidy slowly removed his sunglasses, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Look, I’m sorry. About last night.”

“No you’re not.”

Cassidy’s eyes narrowed as Kip finally turned back towards him, his eyes still wandering around to everything but to look directly at the blond. At this point Cassidy wasn’t entirely sure if the slight reddish color on his face was a blush or a potential bruise starting to form on the side of his face where the Orange Punch had landed earlier.

“You’re not sorry about what happened. I am. I’m the one that was out of line.”

Leaning forward on his seat, Kip leaned his arms against his legs, letting out a sigh. “You were right. It would be all too weird and suspicious if we did any of that. Sorry for even suggesting it.”

He ran a free hand through his hair, shaking his head a little. “I’m just… You know. Fucking tired of all of this.”

As Cassidy remained silent, both of them knowing he didn’t need to say anything to confirm to Kip that he knew exactly what he was talking about, Kip just shook his head again, turning his eyes away from Cassidy.

“I just… I don’t want to just be your dirty little secret forever.”

“You’re not my dirty little secret.” Kip snorted quietly, choosing to sulk a little beyond the shadow of the ice pack again, to avoid eye contact with Cassidy. “Well, you are a secret and definitely dirty, but you know what I mean.”

“Sure do make me feel like I am.”

Cassidy knew this game Kip was playing and how he had the way to twist his words into the way he wanted to hear them, that being nothing but the negative in this case, so he just remained silent, letting the Brit continue talking.

“I hate tiptoeing around everyone else about this or my life in general. I hate it that I can’t just find you and hold you or your hand when I want to, that I can’t just push you against the lockers to kiss you. I hate going home alone and having to wait a week to come back to you for barely a full day before repeating the lonely cycle all over again. I fucking hate all of this.”

Kip let out a soft chuckle, sounding almost disappointed in his own line of thinking. “Fuck, I hate you for making me fall in love enough to keep on doing this.”

Cassidy observed him from the side, knowing full well that everything Kip was saying was genuine, as much as it hurt to think about. Mostly because he felt the same way himself, and not only seeing but also hearing that Kip was willingly making these sacrifices because Cassidy had asked him to, every word felt like a little stab to his heart that he was just forced to take because this was his own doing.

“I know why we are doing this, but…”

“It’s tiring. I know.”

Kip finally looked directly at him, scanning the clearly tired face of the blond, almost as if to try to find some hints of insincerity, like these were just words he was saying because he knew they were ones that Kip wanted to hear, but he came short in his search.

“I don’t like this either. But it’s… It’s for the best right now.”

Kip sighed, but he nodded, knowing Cassidy wasn’t playing him just for fun. They both knew how exhausting this situation was, and the reasons for them keeping it this way, despite how it was affecting everything. They had talked about this a lot, but it didn’t make it much better for Kip, if he was being honest. He couldn’t recount the times he had straight up told Cassidy ‘fuck what anyone else thinks’, but he had still kept his promise to keep it all under the wraps. For him.

He felt a hand land on his tight, Kip’s eyes traveling down to it, a soft smile crossing his lips as he reached his free hand for it, intertwining their fingers together before squeezing Cassidy’s hand carefully.

“The fucking things I do for you,” he sighed, hearing a soft chuckle coming from Cassidy. His thumb carefully petted Kip’s, Cassidy just observing their hands sitting in Kip’s lap before he spoke up again.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Other than apologizing for your face.”

Kip glanced up at him, Cassidy not returning the look as he kept looking at their hands, a little smile playing on his lips as he pondered through his words.

“About what you said last night. I think I might actually take you up on that trip offer.”

Kip’s brows furrowed at him, but Cassidy just kept smiling. “Maybe it would be a good thing. Not for the potential rumors but…” He looked up, directing the smile straight at Kip, leaving no room for any misinterpretations of what he was saying. “Maybe it would be really good for us.”

Cassidy could feel Kip’s grip of his hand tighten a little, a barely noticeable amount, but the man never broke eye contact with him, looking almost surprised at his words. “Really? You… You do want to go with me?”

Cassidy shrugged, but kept on smiling. “Sure, why not? Like you said, we should spend more time together, and having this little getaway could do us some good. See if we can… Hold this together for more than two days at a time or whatever. And without having to worry about someone catching us.”

In a one fell swoop Kip dropped the ice pack from his face and his hand, with his now free hand reaching for Cassidy, pulling him closer by the back of his head for a kiss that was almost as big of a surprise to him as Cassidy’s statement just now was to Kip. Cassidy chuckled softly against the kiss, eventually returning it before Kip cut it short by pulling away again, looking away almost instantly as a shade of regret crossed his face as he realized what he had just done.

“Shit, sorry, I-I didn’t mean to. You just… Really surprised me.”

Cassidy just shrugged it off with a smile. It wasn’t uncharacteristic for Kip to act this affectionate, especially when put on a spot, but they had been extra careful and making sure such acts of affection weren’t done in public, which was the part that caught him off guard. Cassidy reached his hand for Kip’s face, landing it on his cheek, turning him back towards him.

Him blushing like that was so endearing to Cassidy.

“Your friends won’t bother us for a while. It’s alright.”

A soft smile crossed Kip’s lips, but Cassidy was sure he could see a little smirk also tucking in the corners of his mouth as Kip registered his words.

“Oh thank god.”

Before Cassidy could reply, Kip grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling him close for another kiss, this time clearly intentional enough that Kip wasn’t going to let him go any time soon. Which suited him just fine, as Cassidy didn’t want him to, allowing his free hand to run through Kip’s hair as he let the Brit deepen the kiss.

[shrinkthisviolet]

talk shop tuesday - obviously the nature of fic writing is that we're inhabiting characters that we're not necessarily going to share much with, but one of the best parts of the Morgan AU is the complicated and twisted relationship she has with Eowells and I just want to know how you've managed to do this so well given you've stated you have a very positive relationship with your own parents? How you manage to pin down all the shades and all the emotions Morgan has towards him?

Good question! You’re right, it’s nothing like my experience 😅 my parents are wonderful and far from the awful dad Eowells is.

To start off, I’m gonna answer the opposite question: how did I write how Eowells feels about Morgan?

Honestly this was partly taking note of how Eowells (in s1) acts around the Team, and extending that a few steps further. And also, for specific abuse tactics, a little research, since it’s ofc not my lived experience…and also pulling a little from Carla and Caitlin, since although Carla wasn’t as neglectful as Eowells, she still was neglectful, and there are still similarities here (the workaholism, the cold demeanor, the guilt-tripping, etc). Carla and Tina are in a sense foils…and so are Tina and Eowells, who are repeatedly contrasted in s1.

The key was definitely hammering home that yes, Eowells loves Morgan, and the rest of the Team, but not in a healthy way. And for Morgan in particular, he’s balancing her and his revenge plot…and the latter usually always wins, which results in neglect (a type of abuse) throughout her childhood. Most notably between ages 7 and 13, when he was completely uninvolved (luckily she had Tina to pick up the slack), but also to varying degrees after that, up until his defeat in the s1 finale.

And as for how Morgan feels about Eowells…well, I try to put myself in her shoes. And also, I’ve done quite a bit of research on this too: how abuse shapes kids, how it can turn them into people-pleasers (or potentially abusers themselves, but that’s not Morgan’s case, largely because of Tina + Team Flash’s influence) and change how they perceive things (a raised voice, a door slam) and even last for years afterwards. And how, not all, but some abused kids still want to love their parent—Morgan is one of these. It takes her a while to accept that while Eowells never physically harmed her, while he was superficially supportive, he was still neglectful and at times emotionally abusive, even in public. And even then…she spent so long loving him that it’s hard to shake.

So honestly, it’s just attachment to this particular dynamic*, an eye for the specific nuances, a very active what-if brain that focuses on characterization above all else…and some research to fill in the gaps, since I don’t know all the abuse terminology 😅 (also figuring out what a “mandated reporter” is. Caitlin, who is one, is gonna be hit with some major guilt for missing the signs 🥺)

*after all, this whole AU was spawned by “hey what if Eowells had a daughter/Jesse had a doppelgänger”, so ofc Morgan & Thawne ought to be a relationship I put a lot of care and thought into. And I’m glad you’re liking it! It’s definitely a challenge at times, but that’s part of the fun of fanfic writing tbh.

talk shop tuesday!

[hylfystt]

letting you pretend if you can tell me more about greer and kostas?? 👀👀👀👀

hehe thank you pau!! <3

greer and kostas met when she still lived in the city, about a year or so before her father falls ill and dies and she leaves baldur's gate to take care of her mom. they're both taken with each other instantly tbh!! she likes his kind heart and sincere charm and he likes her easy laugh and boundless compassion. they should have had forever but...they didn't

tbh i think they get to me because it's like..........love that never got to be all that it could have been. being absolutely smitten with each other and long summer days spent in the shade of a tree in the garden, talking and reading and painting and dancing that becomes long winter nights spent in each others arms.

and then death and duty pull them apart. greer's father dies, leaving her mother distressed and no longer able to stand the confines of the city. greer, grieving her own way and not wanting to leave her mom alone, agrees to leave the city and go with her to the enclave her mom was raised in. kostas has his life and love for the city that she can't ask him to leave -- wouldn't ask him to leave -- so she ends things. (but i think, in her heart, she doesn't believe it's really the end. she'll be away a few years, just enough to see her mother settled and set on the path towards healing. she won't begrudge him if he doesn't wait, of course, but maybe...just maybe.....)

and then he dies. she finds out he's been injured by letter and by the time she gets to baldur's gate it's too late. he's already gone. so she leaves the city, for good this time she thinks, and spends the next century under the blessing of silvanus.

but in another life, one where they're both born many summers later, he doesn't die. and they do meet again. she travels to the city often and he always opens his door and his arms to her when she returns. young love grows into a ring in his pocket and a future ripe with possibilities and...and the vision of her body cold and lifeless and mangled. and happiness falls away to grief. "we're so sorry, guardsman. but there's nothing we can do." grief, and then fury. what's the point of the watch if they can't help people, if people like greer, good and honest and innocent, keep losing their lives in horrific and mysterious killings? it isn't right. it isn't fair. why her?

love turns to grief and fury and an oath.

[legendoftortor]

Get to Know Me

tagged by: @n1ght1ng4l3 (tysm, sorry I'm a bit late at posting! 💜)

Share your wallpaper: going to share both my phone wallpaper rn since I use it for tumblr the most & my PC background photo (phone theme is from DayBlue on Etsy if anyone is interested, their themes are amazing! My PC background is also from Etsy if I recall correctly but I can't find it in my purchase history to shoutout the creator - sorry!)

Last song you listened to: illicit affairs by Taylor Swift (https://youtu.be/MLV2SJKWk4M)

it's just soooooo good. Most of my favourites right now are by Taylor Swift tbh, but this song just hits different. (pun intended)

Currently reading: Loads of your wonderful fics, but most recently, chapter 2 of Sharing is Caring by @underthenightskydreamsneverdie - do check it out if you haven't already! :)

Last movie: Beauty and the Beast, because a Sebastian x mc fanfic I read had those sort of vibes and made me want to watch it (sorry not sorry, love the Disney classics)

Last show: The Mandalorian S3 (This is the way)

Craving: I could really go for some Kraft mac and cheese right now (I'm GF bc I have coeliac disease, and can't find the GF version here in the UK and it's driving me wild)

What are you wearing right now: a nightgown with cats on it, bc comfort 🐱

How tall are you: 5'9" (~175cm)

Piercings: my ears, but I haven't worn earrings since my wedding in 2021 so they are starting to close up 😅 

Tattoos: one on my back with a quote from one of my favourite TV shows, Covert Affairs, that got cancelled back in 2015 ('going into battle is like blowing out a birthday candle')

See this tumblr post for a bit more context: https://twilightdew.tumblr.com/post/51513108473/auggie-i-had-a-sergeant-in-basic-training-mean/amp

my best friend who also loved the show drew the design for me.

also, funny story, the character who the quote is from is also blind and I used to have a massive crush on him, so I guess I just have a thing for blind characters, hmm?

Glasses? Contacts?: I have glasses for reading but I always forget to wear them and end up with headaches (whoops)

Last drink: just plain ol regular water, boring I know.

Last thing you ate: GF garlic bread pizza and some vegan/GF spinach ravioli, yummy 😋

Favourite colour: a VERY particular shade of purple

(hex #9689EC if anyone is that curious lmao)

Current obsession: Hogwarts Legacy - specifically Sebastian and Ominis, and the C.AI's I spent way too long creating of them 😅

Any pets: my beeeeyoutiful void cat named Midna (yes I named her after Zelda); I also adore my cats who live with my mom in the USA: Izzy, Sara and Zelda (take a guess who named the last one lmao)

Favourite fictional character: AHHHH I can't choose between Sebastian and Ominis, honestly! But I also have a special place in my heart for Jacob Frye from AC: Syndicate

The last place you travelled: Florida, to visit my family and my kitties 💕

tagging: @hufflepuffwitchhh @lilacwisps @quibbler-quirks @sallownights @underthenightskydreamsneverdie (sorry if any of you have done this already and I missed it - no pressure at all but pls tag me if you do!)

[legitalicat]

The Dragon of Valhalla

AN: Here is the next part! Thank you all for the love! Also I was like, "oh my gosh I am struggling so hard with the length, this is gonna be so short" and then it's 2.6k 💀. Also, Foxy thank you for telling me how to skin a rabbit so I didn't risk finding pictures and for the help with the song choices. Y'all don't even know how long her and I spent discussing songs for the vibes (tbh most of the song choices are with a lot of help from her).

Series Masterpost here!

Songs of the Chapter:

pay for you by Psylosia

Shapeshifting by Taylor Acorn

Let Me Love You performed by Jacob Artist in Glee, originally by Ne-Yo.

Summary: As Sihtric and Anya travel to Repton, a serious discussion is had.

CW: Language, hunting, skinning rabbits (I'm sorry y'all it was necessary), anger, Sihtric telling Anya about Kjartan and his mother, Anya spirals a little, Æthelred (or as I like to call him, Æthelcunt)

Pairings: Sihtric Kjartansson x Anya Eivorsdottir

Word Count: 2.6k

Precious Chapter Next Chapter

Chapter 8

Ledecestrescire,

Kingdom of Mercia

It was perhaps an hour or two before sunset when Sihtric and Anya stopped for the night. She had ridden her horse behind Sihtric, so he had not seen her most of their journey. Yet, he had heard her mutter several prayers to Thor in Norse.

She shakily dismounted her horse, taking a deep breath. In the distance, Tamworth Fortress could be seen. She and her mother had longed dreamt of raiding the place. They had only been holding out as the Ragnarsson brothers had an arrangement with the Mercian King before Raven Clan ever set foot on Saxon soil.

“You truly do not like horses?” Sihtric asked.

“I am a vikingr. Ships, rivers, open sea, that is how I travel,” she said defensively. “And it is not as though I do not like horses. They are perfectly fine. They are just…they are living creatures, and try as I might I cannot predict how they will act.”

“And what of the places you cannot access by boat?” he asked her.

“There is a difference in riding for a half hour and riding half way across Mercia,” she huffed.

He couldn’t help but chuckle, stepping closer to her and putting his hands on her hips. She seemed still a bit defensive at his questions, yet she eased into the contact just as she always had. She just did not want to be perceived as weak.

“I have a healthy respect for horses, do not think otherwise,” she told him quietly.

“Perhaps one day we can go sailing,” he said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Your Norse is beautiful, by the way. I had almost forgotten you were born here.”

“Ma did not become fluent in Anglo-Saxon until I was four or five, thankfully Da learned Norse from my uncle Sigurd. Even after, though, we spoke primarily Norse in Ravensthorpe until I was ten or so,” she explained, chuckling a bit. “I also can get by with Arabic, though Da says I am much better if I write it over speaking it.”

He kissed her forehead, making her let out a contented sigh. Here, in the shade of the forest with nobody but him, she felt right. It was where she felt she belonged.

“We will camp here for the night. I imagine we’ll arrive late afternoon tomorrow. Hopefully Ivarr will have not drowned himself in his ale yet,” she said. She had a slight chuckle to her tone, and he realized she still saw little danger to what they were doing.

He stepped back and started work on gathering the needed wood for a fire. In truth, it bothered him to think she could have such a trust in someone that nobody else trusted. He didn’t think her blind or stupid, yet she acted as though she was. To so blatantly ignore the concerns of her council would lead one to believe she was.

Sihtric could only hope that she knew what she was doing. He did not mind to kill for her, but he could not risk her. Too many years had been spent searching for what he had with her. How could someone not expect him to be worried?

Anya walked around the surrounding forest, her bow in hand. She didn’t really want a deer, not for just them. A rabbit or two would be nice, though. Maybe squirrels.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but think of it all. She wanted to be right about Ivarr. She wanted to prove to everyone she could take care of herself, of her people. How was she supposed to lead people if she couldn’t even do this?

Anya returned to the camp just as the sun was properly setting. She had managed to take down a rabbit for each of them. When they returned, she would need to make sure to tell Wallace and Petra of the shots she made. The two hunters only ever caught them with traps, never being quite quick enough with their bows.

When he saw her, Sihtric gestured to the rabbits. She nodded, handing them to him so that he could prepare them for the stew he had began. She was grateful he was here to do it. The feeling always caused her a bit of distress.

Anya placed her hands on Sihtric’s for a moment, making sure to make some sort of contact with the rabbits’ carcasses. He paused for a moment, looking at her with curiosity. She gave him a small smile and closed her eyes before muttering her thanks to both the gods for providing the bounty, and to the rabbits for sacrificing themselves for her.

When her thanks were done, Anya sat across from him. He still looked at her, brows furrowing, as though he did not understand.

“My father taught me that the death of something is equally sad and joyous. Sad, because life is precious and it should forever be protected if possible. But joyous because there are times in which death makes way for life, to either begin again or to continue on. Either way, the dead deserve thanks for the life they make way for, and the sacrifice they have made,” Anya explained to Sihtric as he continued to look at her.

Even in his irritation, he felt a pride in her. Pride that a woman as marvelous as she could be his. It did not matter to him that they had not named it, she was his just as he was hers. And how could any man not fall more for a woman who cared so deeply?

Anya watched how he began skinning the rabbits. Only a blind man would miss the anger he held in his body. She should leave it, she knew that. Men are best left to rest when irritated or angry, Randvi taught her that.

Yet, how could she leave him to fester in his anger? If they were what she felt they were, was it not her duty to him to be the person he was able to vent his feelings to? All she wanted was for Sihtric to realize she was there for him.

“Sihtric,” Anya said softly.

“Am I just a game to you?” he asked her, sitting the skin aside. He did not look up from her as he continued to clean the carcass, now working on removing its organs. ( 1 )

Now, it was Anya who was confused. She said nothing for a moment, watching as he moved effortlessly. After setting the organs to the side to be discarded later, he chunked the remaining meat and put it into the stew. It was only when he began skinning the other rabbit that she decided to speak.

“I do not think of you as a game,” she said softly. “You of all things in my life are not a game for me.”

“Then why disregard your life so effortlessly?” he asked. His movements were rougher with this carcass.

“Sihtric,” she whispered.

“No. No more about how this man will not harm you, I do not buy it and I do not believe you do either,” he said. He did not dare raise his voice at her, but his words were sharp.

“What am I supposed to do Sihtric? Turn away from my destiny? This is the chance I have been given to prove myself,” she said. Already, he was chunking this rabbit too and adding it to the stew. “I have to do this.”

“No, you have to stick around long enough to unite England. You do not need to put yourself in the hands of a man that your parents all but begged you not to see,” he told her. Finally, he looked up at her. “I am going to go clean my hands.”

As Sihtric stood, so did Anya. “I will come with you,” she said to him.

“I need you to stay here. I do not want to speak to you out of anger and regret anything,” he said to her.

“I need you to talk to me of your feelings, not shut me out,” she whispered. She felt a genuine fear she had never known before him. It was a fear that she could lose everything in losing him.

“I will share them when I am calm. I promise,” he said softly to her. He walked to her and kissed her forehead. “I will stay within hearing distance. There is a lake not far from here.”

Anya’s face may as well have turned to stone as she watched him walk off. When she turned her attention away from him, all she could do was stare at the flames. Anything else she could do would cause her to crack under it all.

The minutes ticked by, and if Anya was not stirring the stew, she was staring at the flames. She truly had no idea what she was meant to do. She needed to do this. She needed to prove to her mother that she can lead. She needed her father to see that she was a woman grown and could handle herself. She needed to prove to herself that she wasn’t about to lead everyone to death. ( 2 )

She knew Ivarr was insane. She knew he was the craziest man she had ever met. Despite the fact that this was sure to be a very quick and efficient way to have her head removed from her shoulders, Anya had to do it. If she failed at this, then she would be dead and it wouldn’t matter. If she didn’t fail, though, she would become legend in being able to subdue and command one of the famed sons of Ragnar Lodbrok. Her destiny would be all but handed to her.

Yet, Sihtric had said it best when they first met. What was destiny without someone to share it with? If it were to come to a choice between destiny and Sihtric, how could she not be expected to choose him? Silver, glory, titles, it all meant nothing without him. It did not matter to her that there could be someone else she could share it with, because nobody was him.

She would have to choose him. From the moment she met him, it was clear to her. Sihtric was her destiny. Everything else may as well have been a joke. Truthfully, she would walk away from it all as long as he stood with her.

The air was chilled and the sky made of ink when Sihtric returned. Anya did not move to face him. She simply couldn’t. It would be easier for her if he walked away when she wasn’t watching. If her heart would be broken tonight, she did not want to watch.

Her gaze turned to her hands when he stepped past her to check the stew. No tears fell, yet they stung her eyes angrily. Her heart was about to burst out of her chest here and now, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

A bowl of the stew was handed to her, finally prompting her to look at him. Sihtric looked at her, waiting for her to take the food. She said nothing, but her bottom lip trembled as she nodded. Her hands shook slightly as she took it from him, and she was surprised to already see bread in it as well.

Sihtric sat next to Anya. Their knees touched, calming her fears enough for her to allow herself to begin eating. She tried to ignore the fact that Sihtric gave her the larger, richer chunks of meat with the large portion of bread. Yet the more he ate, the more she worried he would not have his fill.

“Are you not very hungry?” she asked quietly.

“I have enough. There is more should either of us need, I just wanted to make sure you had enough,” he told her. His voice was just as soft and gentle as usual.

But she was silent once again as she nodded. Her silence screamed at him louder than anything else. It was not that silence was unusual for them. He had found that Anya quite liked silence. In the past weeks, he had learned her favorite places to hide so that he could take her there when he noticed her getting overwhelmed.

Sihtric was just not used to such a heavy silence. She moved, sat, looked as though she had been abandoned. It took only a moment more for him to realize what happened.

“You are used to confrontation,” he said quietly, never tearing his gaze from her.

“I do not know anyone to run from anything,” she whispered, looking down at her bowl.

“My father,” he said quietly, trying to keep his own voice from shaking. He had hoped he would never have to tell her. “He was nothing but an angry man. Every moment of my life until he died, I feared him. I watched him feed my own mother to dogs for the crime of becoming boring to him.”

Anya looked to him, tears finally visible in her eyes. He had told her his mother had died when he was young, yet she never imagined it was in such a way. “Sihtric,” she whispered.

“I never want to make you fear me, the way everyone feared him,” he said to her. He sat his bowl aside before cupping her face with his hands. He could see her near instantly relax against his touch.

“I do not think I could ever fear you,” she whispered to him. With a soft chuckle, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“I will walk away when I am angry, but I will always come back,” he promised to her. “You are my woman?”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “You have to ask?”

“Say it,” he requested. His voice was soft, a whisper in the wind meant only for her and the gods.

“Of course I am,” she confirmed.

“Then let me love you. Stop trying to prove to me that you are deserving of this and just let me love you. I will worry and get angry and be fearful every day of my life over you, I cannot change that,” he told her. “But if you are mine, and I am yours, you do not need to carry this burden alone. I will scream your worth from the top of the world until you realize you do not have to earn this. Just let me.” ( 3 )

She could not help but let out a shaky breath and nodded. All she wanted to do was let him love her. In her mind, there was no one better suited for her than him.

“Da always told me I am painfully like my mother, stubborn and unbending,” she whispered to him. “Yet, if you are willing to be with me in spite of that, I will try my hardest to bend for you.”

She kissed him softly. She wasn’t sure if she merely wanted to kiss him, or if she felt like she needed to feel him. All she knew was that when he kissed her back, pulling her almost desperately closer, it was like all of their broken parts had never been broken.

Repton, Kingdom of Mercia

“And you’re certain this girl is capable?” the man asked. Ivarr chuckled darkly.

“This girl is the daughter of a warrior people respect almost as much as they fear me. Her father was raised and trained to be nothing but a killer. She is capable, and with the right amount of silver, will be willing,” Ivarr told him.

“And after?”

“I will kill her. Raven Clan hosts the man who killed my brother, and so they are now my enemies,” Ivarr said simply, and shrugged. “Æthelred, in three days, your wife and her bastard will be dead and you will not be the blame. Do not concern yourself with anything else.”

Taglist: @foxyanon @zaldritzosrose @lexeirikrleif @thenameswinter99

(if you wish to be added to taglist, let me know!)

[cicadagaze]

me? spending multiple days on a drawing? it's more likely than you think.

baby girl needs therapy :(

[fannypakpak]

It’s him 🌼

[elena-of-time]

For @sapphiresflame‘s prompt "Write/draw about the alternative universe with RinHaru that you enjoy <<the least>>" I made sci-fi rinharu with guns! I am personally not a big of sci-fi or guns so it seemed like the perfect thing to do!

I am still very new to digital art and I think it shows. I tried... Shading is HARD!

on twitter here | higher quality version on deviantart here

[sanctus-ingenium]

u guys wanna see more WIPs... similar to the last post, here are Some WIPs

all of these were started in sai before going on to procreate. before going back to sai again in the case of the strength card

so Blue Sky/Out Of Time... yeah it’s extremely self-explanatory, it’s very obvious what this scene depicts and i’m sure everyone gets it (this is a joke i’ve had multiple people dm me asking wtf this even is). the one element that absolutely NEEDED to be there was the LED digital clock with a bullshit time on it, and i decided to replace it with an AIRE warning sign instead and put the LED readouts in the bg. the warning sign in this setting serves the purpose of informing ppl when there are hostile faeries around. i knew what the colours would be from the beginning, but it took a bit for me to realise what sort of shading style i wanted (it took forever). but i did know i wanted to contrast the very sketchy black void against the cleaner and almost cartoony/comic book style rest of the drawing, to emphasise the fact that the foreground sky and background void are made of two very different things. again i used a colour shifting brush to quickly make all the shards of sky different colours, but originally i planned to have some of the shards be dark or night time (with stars or the moon etc). unfortunately it didn’t work, it was too dark and pascal got lost against it.

My Eyes Are Up Here is pretty obviously the exact same scene with the same character, in the same field, but with a different sort of atmosphere. i sketched this in sai then did the final in procreate. originally it was going to have a black background

i really like this version tbh but the blue works better. i think he looks good against dark backgrounds where it’s kind of hard to see wtf is even happening there

so about the neon signs..... i’m well aware that the sketch has way more promise than what the final ultimately was, and that’s because i found that i didn’t have the technical or artistic ability to pull off the complex neon signs like i wanted to. i couldn’t get it looking good enough so i had to scrap them. but these signs will be back, i want to draw them properly and do them justice. the gif was unplanned too but i thought it would be fun to have the flicker be very intermittent so that if you scrolled past it you might not even realise, or you’d have to stick with it just to catch it looping. i used GIMP to make the gif and change the frame rate, and this actually took a very long time because i had to preview it over and over. anyway if you WERE to get lost in the púca’s field, in this story, you would see neon signs like this encouraging you to follow them.

Strength is actually the last drawing i ever made that ended with a paint-over in sai, and the oldest drawing here. as such i actually don’t think it’s representative of my current ability but i do have a soft spot for it for sentimental reasons lol. the reason for the paint-over in sai was because i drew this at a time when i still did not trust procreate to be able to place the level of finish on it that i wanted

the background took me a thousand years to figure out. literally it was so annoying that i considered scrapping it for something simpler. but the idea was for it to be a kind of fairytale-ish lost in the woods sort of look while also appearing like the blood vessels around the human heart. the branches were also supposed to be heart-shaped in cross-section but i spent so long zoomed in painting them that i forgot to zoom out to see if all those fine details were actually visible, and it turned out they weren’t. i was disappointed that i couldn’t get félix’s tattoos to look right but that’s what i get for making a character with shit tons of both tattoos and body hair. i also got rid of the foreground branches really soon because they weren’t adding anything and muddied up the readability of his pose

the swan is from a daemon au and bears no relation to my other swan characters. i just like swans a lot

[twink-between-worlds]

Ohh man I thought of a good one for kinda vidow (either ship or platonic tbh) with the angst starter prompts

❛ you’re a weapon, and weapons don’t weep. ❜

Over Shadow being upset at Vio's betrayal and he gets all emotional and vaati or gannon just sneer at him and say that. Shadow's so conflicted about whose side he should really be on or if Vio ever meant all the nice things and time spent just being with him or caring about what he has to say. If he'd ever be treated good again if he actually sided with the heroes. Treated like an actual living being with thoughts and feelings that mattered. Feeling bad that at first, he only offered that same thing to Vio to corrupt him to the evil side. How much that changed into actually wanting to listen to Vio and spend time with him and genuinley just enjoy another person?

Sorry that got kinda long sjsjwkskxk

this took far too long, but i wanted it to be perfect...and it still isn't, i dont think, but here you go! i actually kinda liked writing this, maybe i need to do more stuff like this? the vidow can be read as romantic or platonic, its ambiguous much like vios morals

Shadow doesn’t understand what he did wrong. He thought—he thought Vio liked him. He thought they were friends. Were they ever? Shadow doesn’t know anymore. He wishes he knew what Vio was thinking—what Vio had thought about as they went to break the mirror. He should have asked. Did Vio mean it? When they ran their fingers through Shadow’s hair and cracked jokes about how the shade’s messy hair would make a crown fit awkwardly? When they held Shadow’s hand and promised a future? It seemed real. All of Vio’s words came out genuine, full of trust, and Shadow can’t help but wonder if Vio is just the worlds best actor. He feels…stupid. He shouldn’t—he pulled the same trick to convince Vio to convert to his side, and Vio is far from stupid—but he does. The shade let out a choked sob, hiding his face in his hands. He’s embarrassed, he trusted Vio, he thought they were his friend— “This is pathetic,”Vaati’s voice rang through Shadow’s ears, and he curled up tighter. “You’re a weapon, Shadow Link, and weapons do not weep. Quit being a baby, you brought it on yourself.” He knows. He knows that this is pathetic, that he looks like a sopping wet rat right about now, but he can’t stop. He can’t stop mourning the loss of a friendship he may not have even had. Would it be worth it, to try and see Vio’s point of view? Would it be worth the risk to try and be treated like a being with thoughts by shifting to the heroes side? Or would they shun him, too? He could confidently say that Vio wouldn’t do that, once, but now he isn’t too sure. Shadow misses them, just a bit, and if they were here he could ask all the questions he has. Vio isn’t a good liar—their face betrays them, and the corners of their mouth always twitch up when they try to lie. Vio told half-truths to avoid directly lying. That’s something Shadow knows is true—so would they answer his questions honestly? Shadow thinks so. At least, he hopes so. Shadow thinks he could have played this differently.. He lied to Vio, at first, promising the same things Vio gave him—someone to talk to, someone to spend time with, someone that cared—and he’d grown to learn he meant it. Did Vio mean it? Maybe. Maybe not, though. The only way he would know is if he asked them. Shadow let out a breath, rubbing his eyes—how long had he been crying? He isn’t sure, but Vaati’s little visit was over, and the bastard was gone. Shadow thinks all the risks are worth it. He may not get answers, and he may be making a mistake, but… It’s worth a shot. The shade stood up, glaring at where Vaati had been beforehand. “Vaati can shove it.”He mumbled, making up his mind then and there.