#keen loft

[bostonrealtors]

220 Spencer Ave Unit 210 Chelsea MA 02150. Keen Lofts!

[teletubbyinlipstick]

Hybrid!Poly TF141 x Reader Rambles

Once again, I'm unsure what to say. I get high, I get horny for these men, and then I hallucinate scenarios with said men. Please enjoy, please feel free to send in anything about these boys! Requests are open! I really like this idea, and I might continue to add on to it. https://www.tumblr.com/teletubbyinlipstick/760241391145238528/more-hybridpoly-tf141-x-reader-pleaaasseeeee?source=share heres the second part!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OwlHybridAU!

Captain Price has big wings. When spread, they're just shy of 26 ft. A beautiful array of ash and brindle the feathers are easily the length of your arm. He keeps them tucked nicely, looking smaller than they are. On the field, if it ever comes down to it and he needs his wings, the look on enemies' faces when they spread is, in Soaps words,"so fuckin hot."

No one disagrees.

Johnny's wings are a bit smaller, around 18ft they're a deep honey brown. In the light, in-between the feathers, an indigo blue shines just slightly. His are more pointy at the end, a ripple effect used for disguising. Simon loves nothing more than to preen him.

Usually it ends with Johnny face down, high whimpers in his throat.

Speaking of Simon, he has the biggest wings in TF141 at 30ft. They're midnight black with streaks of white. When he's moving fast, they look almost like lightning across a black sky. His second layer of feathers is a dark gray. It's hard to notice the difference, but once you do, it's harder not to notice. He's intimidating. He knows.

It's his kink.

Gaz has the prettiest wings, 20ft, and the sweetest cocoa color. He has dirty blonde undertones that fade into pure auburn. His feathers get ruffled a little easily and the boys love teasing him for it.

It's a group effort to preen his wings.

Now theres you, new to the group, younger than them at early-mid twenties. Assigned as a mate for the boys by the government in hopes of reproducing strong genes. You're a sweet little thing, lithe with a pudgy tummy. Your wings are only 15ft. And very fluffy, a gorgeous cream with strawberry blonde highlights. The edges appear light tawny.

You're very beautiful. And the boys fall in love almost immediately upon receiving your file. They nest for you, soft blankets and pillows and sweatshirts placed in the rec room for a cozy habitat. They're keen to meet you, forgoing preening their feathers the night before in hopes of pack bonding tomorrow with you.

So imagine when you end up being the most reclusive, quiet church mouse they've ever met. You speak maybe 3 sentences in total at the meeting. You were quick to bat Johnny's hand away when he reached for your shoulder for a friendly pat. Feathers ruffling just slightly.

They backed off.

Simon stood quiet the whole time, eyes zeroed in on you. Assessing.

They showed you the loft to your room. Simon kept a polite distance, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. Gaz and Johnny were waiting for Price to make the first move and let you know about the nest they had secured for you in the rec area. But when you politely and quickly excused yourself and darted inside, closing the door with the resounding click. They realized you weren't going to the nest. Nor were you going to the rec room in general.

They slept in their shared king bed. The nest left cold and barren. Tears were wiped from Gaz's eyes, sweet cooing coming from the bed as the boys sought solstice for each other.

No one dried your tears, and you stayed curled in the corner of your bed. Scared. Alone. And unsure what the future will bring.

[hellenhighwater]

A month or so ago I came across a listing on Marketplace with one photo, a price of $50, and the following description: "12x8x1 i have 45". Now, $50 for 45 pieces of stained glass of that size is an insane deal; $50 per piece of stained glass is...well, it's not crazy, but it's not a price I'd be willing to pay. Glass generally isn't as expensive as you think.

So I messaged him, and he clarified that the price was per piece, and I did my best to politely explain that I was not interested in paying $2,250 on stained glass slabs. Extracting myself from that conversation took some time, since he was keen to make a sale, and I had zero budget for it, but I did eventually make my graceful exit.

And then three days ago he messaged me, saying he was moving and to make him an offer on the glass.

I told him I really don't have much room in the budget for this, and I know it's not a number he'll like, but the best I could do is $200.

He said sold.

So yesterday I went and fetched forty five slabs of stained glass, each an inch thick and a foot long, and eight inches wide. My plan is to use some in the aviary, and also I may use some for book pressing, because they're pretty. The glass is so thick that you can hardly tell what color they are when they're laid flat. The colors are mostly a range of dark blues, purples, greens, and browns, which works great with my color palette. I want to eventually add a loft so that the doves can be out year-round, and ideally natural light would be good. However, doves are easily startled, and transparent glass runs the risk of them trying to fly through it. Stained glass is both prettier and safer.

They're intended for a stained glass technique called Dalle de Verre, where slab glass is chipped into irregular facets and set in concrete, which was popularized during the Brutalist movement. It's a cool technique! I don't know if I'll try it, but it is lovely.

[lcvemiyuki]

"close to his heart" | hinata, hq

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: you attend an intense and crucial match for the jackals and discover a certain wing spiker wears his promise ring in secret to give him good luck during a game

warnings: fluff, established relationship, timeskip!msby hinata

character(s): hinata

word count: 590

a/n: i saw a fanart of this exact scenario and just HAD to write something about it because ughhhhhhh. like that was me fr in the stands. (if i find out who the artist is i will add it in the future!). also, i know jewelry is prohibited to wear during matches, i don’t know what the protocols are, but for the sake of this writing lets just pretend if anything🤗

art creds: @/sunfluff on ig @/ah_e0k on twt (inspired this scenario)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

'wham!'

the ball ricocheted off the ground, sending the crowd into a frenzied uproar.

the match was a nail-biter, with each team clinging to the game with pure willpower. the players' shoes squeaked in protest against the polished floor; their faces glistened with the sheen of sweat, a tangible testament to their craving for victory.

in the midst of all this, you knew that every match held a special significance for the orange-haired decoy—every single point, every last serve, it all mattered.

as the jackals were nearing the final set of the match, it was apparent that hinata was exhausted, his energy nearly depleted. but adrenaline forced his legs to move just a bit longer, his thigh muscles searing and flexing with every strenuous movement.

all of his senses were heightened.

he became intensely aware of a certain necklace he had tucked under his jersey as well.

the realization of its presence served to slow his fast-beating heart just enough to keep him grounded.

the closest, tangible thing to him wasn't his teammates or the high-speed ball whirling toward him. 

it was you.

wearing his promise to you on a silver chain around his neck was a risky move, but it was the only thing that seemed to calm his nerves.

the game demanded his attention once again as the blond setter lofted a perfect set in his direction. with a sudden burst of renewed energy, hinata leaped for the quick attack, his hand connecting with the ball with infallible precision and force.

the resulting smack echoed ominously through the gym. before anyone could fully comprehend what had happened, the match was over.

the crowd was only a few seconds late in reacting, their cheers filling the stadium as the realization dawned. the shrill sound of the whistle signaled the winning point, initiating a wave of exhilaration that swept through the stands.

"yeah!" hinata yelled, triumphantly balling a fist into the air. his teammates, brimming with uncontained excitement, rushed over with their hands delivering congratulatory slaps on his back.

as the match drew to a close, you finally allowed yourself to release the breath you'd been holding. next to you, the younger, orange-haired girl—her face glowing with pride for her older brother—jumped up and down with joy.

both of you were clad in jackal merch, his number visible on your jerseys. despite blending in with the sea of fans, a pair of keen eyes found you anyway.

after sharing a celebratory hug with natsu, you turned your gaze back down the stadium. you were searching for the mvp of the night—only to find that he was already staring up at you.

at that moment, the deafening noise levels of the stadium seemed to fade into insignificance. it felt as if only you two were there— as if, he was telepathically communicating with you. a loving smile spread across his face as his hand reached for his neck. slowly, he removed the skin-toned bandages to reveal the shiny, silver-chained necklace and his promise ring to you dangling on it.

you gasped, the sound getting caught in your throat and leaving you speechless.

"he was wearing his ring this whole time?" your fingers immediately touch your own, fiddling with it.

as if he could read your mind, hinata’s smile grew larger. he brought the silver ring to his lips in a tender gesture—a small peck that resonated in your heart.

this ring was his good luck charm, the one thing he wanted close to his heart. and for that, he was willing to break a few rules.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

[watchyourbuck]

I really wanted to NOT analyze this scene bc it’s been done so many times but I’m a public menace, so

Buck and Eddie and Chris are at Buck’s loft, after a mission and a less than pleasant conversation w Bobby, and here are my thoughts:

We see Buck (who’s upset), cooking for Chris and Eddie, when — in the whole arc —, we never see him cook for Taylor (or Ali, or really, anyone else but the 118).

Recently therapied™️ Eddie doesn’t give a flying fuck about being interim captain, but has enough eyes to see Buck does. His voice softens, and he gives him foot to discuss his own feelings without hiding them bc Eddie doesn’t share them. (Bonus points bc he makes the same face he made after the lawsuit, in THE Kitchen Scene, when he tells Buck ‘not to beat himself up about it.’).

“Lucy is great– whatever-,” Buck says absentmindedly, and we get a glimpse of Eddie’s smug little face. It kind of implies he knows about the kiss, but opts to say nothing. He did, in fact, cheat on Taylor (and Chris is in the room). But the grin falls a little. Maybe he’s not so nonchalant about it, after all. Or maybe, he knows they (she and Buck) never stood a chance. He looks – relieved, almost.

Eddie feels comfortable enough to keep actually playing with his kid. Enough to win, actually. He doesn’t feel that comfortable at his parent’s house (5x17).

Buck keeps talking about this, and even if he acts like he doesn’t care (and Eddie has dealt with that sarcastic-coping-mechanism-tone Buck does one too many times), he’s visibly angry, so Eddie changes the subject. “What are you offering?”

“Right now? Bobby’s famous lasagna.” Okay, this doesn’t scream ‘I’m cooking you my family recipes’ to anyone else?

Then we have The Diaz’ compliments, which not only sound genuine, but make Buck grin. Like he did something right. Besides, it took him ‘three tries to get it right.’ Interesting, when other in the show has Buck not given up immediately after something doesn’t go his way? Surely, this had to be something he was very keen on achieving, cuz he barely cooks for himself.

Chris’ little ‘you don’t even have a couch’ is very funny to me. Because he’s a kid and he’s joking, or being smart. But Chris isn’t my focus here, it’s Eddie’s reaction. We do know kids absorb what their parents feel and say, right? Eddie laughs, so he must think alike. He looks almost drunk — all flushed cheeks, big smile, squinted eyes.

“My last two couches came with girlfriends” and the IMMEDIATE correction Eddie makes. We know Buck is at his most comfortable with the Diaz boys, so we know he’s not putting on a show. What he says – he means. Of the heart speaks the mouth. That’s how he feels about his past relationships, not the correction Eddie makes. (And if you may let me be annoying here, it’s kinda interesting, the correction. It sounds almost – hopeful. Eddie knows it’s supposed to be the way he corrects him to be, but in a way, he corrects him just to guarantee himself that that’s not what Buck meant ((and it’s not.)).

The way that Buck stops, stares and then plunges down on the chair. ‘Right,’ he thinks, ‘the girlfriends came with couches.’ Again, NOT his initial thought. He hides behind a grin.

Eddie is not careful mentioning Taylor. Buck isn’t heartbroken. He even mentions her in Chris’ presence, and we know by history they’ve always been careful. (If you ask me, that’s the reason they didn’t hook up after the ‘you wanna go for the title?’ scene).

“Maybe I don’t wanna pick the wrong couch again.” Please stay here for a second. In all objectivity we’re talking about furniture…, right? This is a three-street conversation, because Chris added himself to it, yet Buck won’t look at him. He looks at Eddie, very intently. As if… as if he’s saying something different with his words. Huh, whatever could he mean? (Faint whispers of: ‘your couch, you, I wanna pick you, I wanna pick you, pick me, too.’) And then Eddie, who is Oblivious Firefighter of the Year (awarded) brings the conversation down again to the actual topic, and Buck deflates, like his balloon has been popped. His eyes literally stop glimmering.

So, is this a conversation two best friends who are comfortable in that title would have?

[wordsarelife]

—𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: theo and you used to be friends. that was a long time ago. now you pretty much hate each other and theo uses his feelings about you to write a song!

warnings: i don’t think there are any! let me know if that’s not true :)

note: here it is!! finally the prologue is here! don’t worry the actual chapters will be much longer. we just needed a starting point! hope you enjoy!!!

word count: 0.9k

masterlist | next part

there was a single path connecting the backyard of the two houses, making it almost hard not to run into each other. despite that, you had sworn yourself to never set a foot on said path ever again, always straying away before your feet could touch the concrete. 

you hadn't been watching him, but it seemed that theo was doing the same. you had never once spotted him wandering across the yard. 

because your eyes were still fixated on the path, you didn't notice the movement in the window across from you, only looking up, when you heard the knocking through your opened window. theo was standing there, watching you with a smirk, before he reached for his pen and wrote something. 

he grabbed his bag, winking at you, before he slapped the paper against the window, turning around and walking out of his room before you were able to react. 

'bye, pixie'  he had written, making you sigh. he had called you that ever since one fateful day in your childhood. because, believe it or not, theo and you had been friends once.

you had been seven when you tried to cut your own hair, much to your mother's dismay, who had dragged you to a hairstylist the same day, eager to fix the mess you had created. there wasn't much to save or fix so you ended up with a rather horrible pixie cut for the next few months.

your hair had eventually grown out to it's normal length, the pixie fading away before you could even start to be ashamed of it, but theo wasn't one to let go of things quickly, so he had been calling you that to this day.

and since your friendship had ended, making room for the hatred towards each other, he seemed to just get a rise of the way it bothered you so much. 

you rolled your eyes, pushing back the feeling of annoyance as you dragged your curtain close so you wouldn't have to look at his window anymore. 

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

theo arrived at the garage sooner than he would've predicted, lazily leaning his bike against the wall, before he walked inside. 

"you're early" mattheo noted, while taking a look at his phone. 

"don't flatter yourself" theo smiled, before he ruffled mattheo's hair, sitting down on the couch beside his best friend. "what about the others?" 

"enzo forget his guitar, blaise and draco went with him to get it" 

"he forgot it again?" theo sighed, leaning back into the cushion. 

"he's been acting up quite a lot" mattheo shrugged "maybe it's the stress"

theo shrugged, before he grabbed his bag, taking out the red leather book. "i have something to finish" 

"another song?" mattheo furrowed his brows, before he stood up and walked across the room. 

"maybe" theo shrugged "i've been working on something" his mind wandered off. 

"might not be the worst idea to put out another single right after the album. we'll stay relevant that way" mattheo pointed out and theo nodded absentmindedly. "i'll leave you to it" mattheo walked in the direction of the door, a towel in his hand. he was probably going swimming in the lake that was right next to the garage. 

the garage was more of a loft than an actual garage. but it had always been called that and every member of cursed legacy was rather keen on sticking to things. 

"we are relevant" theo argued, right before mattheo snuck out the door. he could not hear his answer, if mattheo had even answered anything. 

theo sighed as his eyes fell back on the unfinished song in his book. the words had fallen right out of his mind and on the page it seemed. somehow this song had been easier to write than any other he had written. and that had been almost every song on cursed legacy's first album: neon nights.

sometimes mattheo or blaise had helped him. enzo and draco often had ideas for a few lines, but ultimately most of their songs were written by theo. 

he jotted down more and more lines, adding the chorus, the bridge. occasionally he stopped writing to play a few notes on draco's keyboard, making sure the lines were fitting the melody. in just less than thirty minutes he had a finished song. 

loud noises in front of the door made theo look up from the book. the door was opened by blaise and he entered the garage closely followed by draco and enzo and also mattheo, who had probably run into them right outside. 

"hey" enzo greeted "sorry that we're late, honestly my fault, but—“

theo shook his head, interrupting the boy "it's fine, enzo. i want you guys to listen to something" 

"sure" draco pushed enzo forward, so he had enough room to sit down on the couch. the rest of their group took their respective seats as well, ready to listen to whatever theo was wanting to show them. 

they all listened attentively as theo played the notes on the keyboard, eventually adding the lyrics he had written down, until they were presented with the whole song. they looked at each other, smiling in silent agreement. 

"what do you think?" theo asked, but his friends did not answer. they all got up, taking their instruments and resuming to their positions next to him. 

"what are you waiting for?" draco asked when theo had not moved to stand in front of the microphone.

"let's record it right now" enzo added when he noticed theo's confused look. 

theo smiled upon his friends enthusiam. "sure" he nodded, grabbing his mic and stepping into the middle of their little circle.

thank you so much for reading!!

taglist:

@7s3ven @madi-potter @shereadsandcries @getosbeloved @mischieftom @wolfstar-jpg @t00thfairy20 @chcrrysblog @aestramjackson @elina3011 @kr1nqu @hopeless-y @mitskiswift99 @fallingblackveils @ahead-fullofdreams @helendeath @schaebickel @chubbychasermattheotruther @punkprincess03 @subparslytherin @girlbooklover555

(leave a comment if you want to be added/ removed from the taglist)

[dangerpronebuddie]

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night 33/?

19. "If we get caught kissing we're dead but let's risk it."

Summary:

"Do you have any idea how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught?" Eddie whispers.

"Like either of us care," Buck points out as he opens the supply closet door.

"Fair point."

Buck takes Eddie's hand and hauls him into the closet, closing the door and pushing him against it, settling his hands on Eddie's hips.

(read below! Also on ao3 if you like 😘)

~~~

They both keep their heads on a swivel, watching for the beloathed bigot around every corner. Gerrard has caught them once- two days after their first kiss- and threatened to transfer one of them if he ever saw them again. Eddie cares not to dwell on the names they've been called in the week since. And all because Buck, bleery eyed and adorable after a nap in the bunk room, kissed Eddie's temple when he found him in the loft.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble we'll be in if we get caught?" Eddie whispers.

"Like either of us care," Buck points out as he opens the supply closet door.

"Fair point."

Buck takes Eddie's hand and hauls him into the closet, closing the door and pushing him against it, settling his hands on Eddie's hips. He takes Eddie's lips in a bruising kiss, setting every nerve ending on fire. Eddie keens and tangles his fingers in Buck's curls, drawing a low groan from him.

Eddie smiles into the kiss, reveling in the still new, but familiar sensation of his boyfriend, his Buck, pressed against him. He feels like he might float away, Buck's hands the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

Buck pulls away to pepper kisses across Eddie's face to behind his ear. Eddie tips his head back with a sigh, thumping his head against the door. Buck shushes him and tugs his earlobe with his teeth.

"Ya know something?" Eddie asks as Buck loves at his neck.

"What?" Buck smirks against his skin.

"I think you love me just so you can be guilty of insubordination," Eddie grins.

He can feel Buck's own grin pressed beneath his jaw. "It's not the only reason I love you, baby," he says before nipping at the fading bruise on Eddie's throat, making him gasp. "But it is a perk."

"Nice to know I'm good for something," Eddie quips.

Buck trails kisses up to the corner of Eddie's mouth. "Help me steal the engine and I'll show you what you're really good for," he says in a husky whisper before slotting their lips together.

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck's neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens. Buck slips a hand in Eddie's back pocket, drawing a soft noise from him Buck swallows down as he presses them more firmly together.

Eddie reaches for Buck's collar, desperate to see and touch and taste more.

He just gets the first button undone when the door is yanked open.

Eddie stumbles back, but Buck catches him just before his head can smack into the tile. Eddie looks up, his heart in his mouth. It quickly calms when he sees Hen smirking down at them.

"And just what were you two doing in there?" she asks, folding her arms.

"Uh," Buck says with a nervous chuckle.

"Would you believe practicing the tango?" Eddie grins.

Buck helps him stand as Hen scoffs. "Tonsil hockey seems more believable," she drawls.

"Yeah, and I was about to score a goal before you blocked it," Buck snarks. Eddie gently smacks him in his middle.

"I really do not want to know," Hen says. "But I suggest you get your thrills some other time. The fossil wants Eddie and me to do inventory on the engine. A hora."

Buck sighs and drops his forehead onto Eddie's shoulder. "My offer of stealing the engine still stands."

Eddie chuckles and presses a kiss to his curls. "I might just take you up on that."

Hen grabs Eddie's wrist and pulls him from Buck's arms. "After you help me with the inventory."

They didn't steal the engine that day... The ambulance was much more comfortable anyway.

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒞𝐿𝒪𝒰𝒟 𝟫

info ⭑ nagi seishiro x reader. 1.4k wc. sfw ﾉ fluff 

nagi doesn’t think his apartment has been this clean since he first moved into it.

to be fair, it hasn’t ever been really messy—not by his standards, at least. just cluttered. the only person who ever visits consistently is reo and despite his thinly veiled complaints about the lack of tidiness, nagi feels no need to impress him. you, however, are a different story.

he thinks it might be a little bit rude and even more embarrassing if his home is in any sort of disarray the first time you get to see it. that’s why he set his alarm early and spent his entire morning cleaning; organized all the pairs of shoes he carelessly kicks off at the entryway, washed the dishes he had neglected last night, and folded and hung up all the clothes tossed on the unused lounge chair in the corner of his bedroom.

nagi’s lighting a candle when he hears your knocks and muffled sing-songy voice announcing your arrival. once he’s sure the wick is burning, he tosses the lighter onto the coffee table before scrambling towards the door. in his rush to let you in, nagi misses the little step that separates the small foyer from the rest of the apartment. his hands stick out to catch himself in just barely enough time and he curses under his breath at the blunder. after righting himself, he pulls open the door, revealing your figure on the other side.

you’re smiling, but it looks like you’re holding back a laugh.

“everything okay?” you ask as you survey him from head to toe. you could have sworn you heard something—or someone—hit the door only a second ago.

nagi nods, his snowy white bangs bouncing up and down with the gesture. he’s sure you can piece together what happened without his input and he’s not too keen on admitting that he tripped on the way here. instead, he turns his body to create some space for you, jerking his head in the direction of his living room. “come in.”

“you can put those on.” nagi points to a pair of new slippers that he bought just for you. he figures you should have your own since you’ll be around more often. well, he thinks you will—people who are dating hang out at each other’s houses, right?

you do as he says, trading your sneakers for the house shoes (that fit perfectly) while glancing around his apartment. it’s neat, neater than you expected. the scent of dish soap and lemon cleaner tips you off that he had cleaned before you arrived and his effort brings a smile to your face.

“so,” he twirls the fine hair at the nape of his neck around his finger, “i have mario kart if you want to play. and we can get takeout if you’re hungry.”

“sounds good,” you assure him, following the man to his living room. other than the pop of green from his cactus situated on the table beneath his television, everything from his furniture to the lack of décor is neutrally colored. that much doesn’t surprise you but you’re curious to see if his bedroom has more character.

in your search for his room, your eyes catch sight of a narrow staircase leading up to a lofted area. “is your bed up there?” you point at the landing.

pulling his gaze away from the handheld console in his hold, nagi’s dark eyes follow the path of your finger and he hums in confirmation. “you can check it out.”

you take him up on his offer and make your way up the steps. the space you find at the top is just as simple as that of his first floor but twice as cozy. there’s a hammock chair in the corner that slightly swings with the air of your arrival and at least three throw blankets in varying shades of gray strewn across his mattress. your foot gently taps the soccer ball resting on the light hardwood floor, sending it rolling toward the wall, as you approach his bed.

shedding yourself of your slippers, you flop onto the mattress with a soft thud. your body sinks into the cushion as though it’s a marshmallow—it certainly feels as soft and pillowy as one. you’re two seconds away from calling down to nagi to comment on how comfortable his bed is when you turn on your side to face the table settled beside said bed. the surface you’re met with is littered with taped-on photo strips dating back to when the two of you first started hanging out.

the series of pictures are arranged chronologically like he’s been adding them as they’ve been taken. and you can see that, with time, he grew more comfortable with the camera—with you. poses that were once awkward peace signs turned to tight-lipped smiles and eventually he even went as far as crouching down so you could hold your fingers above his head like cat ears.

in his bed, swathed by his familiar scent, nagi’s little gesture leaves your heart floating and fluttering in your chest. you have your own identical set of these photos at home pinned to the bulletin board that hangs above your desk, you look at them every day—yet there’s something different about seeing them stuck to the spot that nagi stares at before he closes his eyes to go to sleep.

“hey, the game is—” nagi cuts his sentence short upon seeing that you’ve found the souvenirs from your visits to photo booths across town. he wasn’t even thinking about them when he told you to help yourself to explore his room. your silence blankets him with a strange sense of unease. nagi knows the two of you haven’t been dating for very long but he hopes the display doesn’t make you uncomfortable.

at his voice, you sit up on your knees to meet nagi’s eye. his finger is nervously twirling at his hair again and the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks are flushed a rosy pink. despite his height, you’ve never seen him look smaller.

you figure he’s embarrassed about you stumbling across the pictures. the both of you are still settling into your new relationship status, clumsily fumbling with couple-like behavior and romantic actions. although, he has nothing to worry about. it’s cute—his growing collection of memories.

you jerk your thumb over your shoulder, gesturing to the prints with a small smile. “mine are hanging in my room, too.”

the tension in his shoulders practically melts away with your words and his feet no longer feel anchored to the floor. nagi joins you on his bed, the mattress dipping underneath his added weight. he leaves a safe amount of space between himself and you but he’s considerably more relaxed than he was a moment ago.

“look,” you start, pulling your phone out of your pocket. nagi’s newfound proximity and his exhibit of your shared photo excite you and make you want to share one of the many ways you are beginning to fall into the designated role of significant other. you tap the glass surface of the device which lights up with your action, revealing an image of the two of you that reo took. your arms are wrapped around his waist and one of his hands sits atop your head. neither of you is looking at the camera, your gazes are focused on each other instead. with a smile, you turn your phone to him, “we’re even on my lock screen.”

nagi silently stares at the captured moment displayed on your screen. the day wasn’t long ago and the memory of it is still fresh in his mind. it was the first time you referred to him as your boyfriend in the company of someone close to him. just looking at the photo makes his heart skip a beat like it did when he heard the foreign-sounding word spill from your lips. only when the screen returns to its sleeping state does he look up to you.

he’s never had a way with pretty words and even now he’s struggling to voice his feelings, so instead of saying something sweet and saccharine fitting for the occasion, he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “wow, you’re mushy.”

“shut up,” you tell him through an unconcealed laugh. your thumb and index finger come together to flick the center of his forehead. the fluff of his hair lessens the impact but he still rubs the spot instinctively as a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. you smile back at him before smoothing your hand over his head. “let’s go play.”

hihi~ sua here :3 ! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[heradion]

I'll wait a lifetime or two (Sterek s4 off screen fic)

Set after this scene

(Gif taken from Pinterest )

" We'll have to write an official report for this." Noah says inspecting the area as Stiles looked around the loft.

" There's some evidence around the area " Braeden said " I'll help you bag it "

" I'll need a statement from one of you " Noah said pointing at Derek and Braeden

" I'll do it" Braeden said helping him with the evidence

" Are you sure?" Derek asked

" Yeah I'll be fine " Braeden replied grabbing her jacket and leaving with the Sheriff.

Stiles took a step back walking away from the couch where he was trying to find any sign of Kate being there when he bumped into something .

He turned around to find Derek standing there with his arms crossed across his chest.

" Sorry " Stiles muttered stepping away and standing next to Derek .

Stiles stood there waiting for Derek to say something before sighing and turning to leave

" Alright...uhm. I'll see you tomorrow then." He said walking towards the entrance .

" I'm leaving Beacon Hills " Derek's voice came stopping Stiles in his tracks as he turned around to see Derek's back turned to him

" Leaving Beacon Hills to go where exactly?" Stiles asked walking down the short stairs

" I don't know yet" Derek shrugged turning around

Stiles nodded looking away sighing " Okay then. Uhm, safe journey I guess "

Derek looked at Stiles who finally turned to look at him, a look he couldn't quite figure out how Stiles felt about the news he just told him

Stiles sighed looking down at the ground and shoving his hands in his pockets " What is it Derek ?"

" You have this look on your face that I can't quite figure out what it means " Stiles said looking at him

Derek remained quiet as they just looked at each other, a feeling of unspoken words being yelled in the deafening silence with just their eyes.

" You've got some lipstick on ur lip" Stiles said pointing by the side of his own lip

Derek moved his hand to the other side trying to remove it when Stiles stepped closer grabbing his wrist moving it to the other side where the stain was before taking a step back.

" Thanks" Derek said rubbing it off as Stiles looked away

" OK, if that's all there is , I'm leaving" Stiles said

Stiles sighed turning to leave when the power went out locking him in since the alarm code had been overriden.

" Great " Stiles said throwing his hands up in frustration

" Is there a back exit or an emergency exit anywhere ?" Stiles asked walking up to Derek who's silhouette he could make out from the moon lighting up the room dimly

" No, why are you so keen on running away from here?" Derek said as Stiles walked over to sit on the table

" Well, you've been otherwise occupied ever since you've been... turned back to your old self " Stiles stated

" Occupied ?" Derek asked raising his eyebrows " You mean with Braeden ?"

" Amongst other things ,sure." Stiles said

" Why , because i havent given enough attention to you and Scott?" Derek asked

Stiles scoffed before saying " No, not because of that, because after we came all the way to mexico to save your ass , you went silent until the Brett incident."

" So that's why you've been acting like I have you trapped here ?" Derek asked " Because I didn't thank you?"

" it's funny you ask that when you've been answering all my questions with one sentence or a word. " Stiles pointed out

" I didn't ask you to leave from here " Derek stated standing a little further away from Stiles but close enough that they could make out each other's features in the dark

" Yeah well you didn't ask me to stay either " Stiles stated

" Alright, I want you to stay now " Derek stated

Stiles scoffed " Yeah right . For what?"

" Cause I didn't think it mattered to you whether or not I was okay" Derek stated

" After saving each other's lives countless times and being through so much , you still don't think it matters to me ? That you don't matter ? " Stiles asked

" Then why didn't you say anything ?" Derek questioned

"Because it felt like I was bothering you when you didn't give a shit. So forgive me if I'm not exactly chatty " Stiles quipped as Derek remained quiet

" I didn't know that. " Derek stated " I uhm...I guess I should've told you."

" Don't you want to know why I'm leaving?" Derek asked as Stiles sighed

" You've been wanting to leave since whatever happened with Alpha pack and then with Cora. I'm assuming it's the same now. " He replied

" I came back then." Derek stated

" I know , but this time you're leaving for good right ?" Stiles asked looking away

" Probably " Derek said

" Good for you" Stiles said shaking his foot nervously looking down at the ground " You're finally getting out of here."

Derek walked closer but still keeping a bit of a distance between the two.

" Stiles. " Derek called out as Stiles looked at Derek

" I'm losing my powers " Derek stated

" Oh. Uhm..how.. is that.." Stiles said " Is that why you were struggling to hold Brett down ?"

He watched as Derek nodded " It happened after Kate took me . "

" The colour of my eyes have changed " Derek stated flashing his blue eyes at Stiles

" Wow,How did that happened?" Stiles asked standing up and walking closer

" I don't know" Derek said " I asked Braeden to find Kate but ..." his voice trailed off

" Why are you telling me this now?" Stiles asked furrowing his eyebrows

" Because you told me it matters to you and i wanted to be honest. " Derek stated

" That doesn't explain why you've barely spoken to me this whole time " Stiles shrugged

Derek remained quiet for a while before sighing and saying " I wanted to figure things out on my own and like i said, i didn't think it mattered to you "

" Why would you even think that?" Stiles asked as Derek shrugged

Stiles sighed rubbing his forehead " Derek what's going on why are you telling me all this ?"

" Because I don't know if I'll get a chance to do it again." He replied

" What is that supposed to mean? " Stiles asked

" I'm leaving Stiles. Indefinitely " Derek replied

Stiles swallowed hard " You've told me that. If you've made your decision ,why are you talking to me about all this ? "

" Because I want you to know that I'm not abandoning you..." He said "and the pack " he added

Stiles crossed his arms across his chest as the light flickered back on and he noticed Derek standing a few feet away .

" Stiles ." Derek called out walking closer.

" I want you to have this " Derek stated handing him a set of keys

Stiles put his arm out as Derek gave it to him their fingers brushing gently as Stiles looked at the keys.

" They're the keys to my loft. " Derek stated

" What? Why are you giving them to me?" Stiles asked confused looking at Derek

" In case of emergencies. " Derek stated looking between Stiles eyes and lips " You can stay here if you ..ever feel like getting away from everything for a while or just need some alone time."

" Oh. Ok, uhm..thanks Derek.." Stiles stated looking up at Derek " Do you want me to hand it over to Scott ?"

" No" Derek said " I trust you and I want you to keep it "

" Are you sure ?" Stiles asked furrowing his brows confused as Derek nodded

" I'll see you tomorrow Stiles " Derek replied

Stiles nodded keeping it in his pocket not moving away looking at Derek who was a few inches away

" Did you...uhm...have to say anything else?" Stiles asked as Derek walked closer and stopped right in front of him, close enough that he could see the slight hint of blue and brown flecks in Derek's eyes .

" Stiles. " Derek stated looking between his eyes and lips as Stiles swallowed hard " Thank you. For everything. "

Stiles pursed his lips seemingly disappointed as he looked away " Yeah, uhm. You're welcome ." He said taking a step back and turning to walk away this time .

" I'll uhm see you tomorrow. Goodbye Derek." Stiles stated shutting the loft door as Derek just watched him leave wishing the words weren't caught in his throat .

(Part.1) / (Part.2) / (Part.3) /(Part.4) /(Part.5)

[theramseyloft]

I go you already have my apologies but can you re explain your ideal bird that you are breeding for. From the looks of your loft updates you prefer standard non exaggerated features and minimal muffs and normal length beaks

No worries. ^v^

I've been reworking a few things while we've been stuck on hiatus, so there have been some changes to the plans for the future, and I don't mind going over them.

I am trying to develop a unique breed specifically for therapy work.

As many of my long term followers know: A feral pigeon, found in a parking lot on the brink of starvation, taught himself to alert me for anxiety attacks of crippling severity.

If he could not alert me fast enough to prevent me going catatonic, he knew to go get my husband.

And he worked out a series of behaviors to draw me back out of that state if my husband was not with me.

He later developed an alert specific to blood sugar spikes.

That's far beyond the scope of an Emotional Support Animal!

And I believe that if a pigeon off the literal street was naturally inclined to develop these behaviors, then temperament traits conducive to such service work can be selected for.

I aim to do that by combining highly intelligent Performance breeds like Homers, Rollers, and Tumblers with structurally sound exhibition breeds possessing a demonstrably heritable mellow temperament.

And I want this breed to have a unique look that easily identifies it so that it will be hard for feather merchants to counterfeit. (Yes, that is a thing that happens.)

So, my favorite embellishments in the breeds we are already using are going to be enhanced by a few exhibition breeds who exemplify those traits, and one specifically for color.

To that end, we will be utilizing these performance breeds:

Feral

I can get into whether or not this is a breed in itself in another post. This is going to be a long one as it is.

There are several risks to working with ferals, absolutely.

You can pretty much guarantee that any you may find have lice, one or two species of worms, at least two protozoan parasites, and could potentially have a whole host of other bacterial or viral pathogens with out showing any outward sign.

Anyone who works with ferals as a first responder must be prepared to quarantine them carefully, vaccinate them, and test them to find out what all you will need to treat.

But there are three huge advantages for the Assistance Pigeon Project:

They are the epitome of structural soundness. That slight, agile little body has come to be through surviving generations of environmental pressures from having to travel long distances to find food to having to dodge a wide range of predators like cats and hawks.

There is no better source of intelligence than the descendent of birds that have survived for generations on their wits and luck alone.

And no better source of an excellent immune system than the result of generations living with the host of parasites and pathogens that they are so often loaded down with in the wild. There is a reason you won't see any outward sign that a feral has anything!

Once a feral's parasites and pathogens are cleaned out, they are incredibly sturdy!

Being a domesticated animal, the offspring of ferals in human care tend to focus all the inquisitive brightness that kept their line alive in the wild on bonding and communicating with their care taker.

Racing Homer

The thoroughbred of pigeons.

If you do not count Ferals as a breed, this is the most structurally sound and intelligent of all pure breeds.

Hands down the single most athletic!

They are stockier, more aerodynamic, and far more muscular than the average feral, because they were bred to be able to find their way home from drop points up to and over 500 miles away.

It takes not just fine tuned musculature and metabolism, but an excellent memory and keen intelligence to adapt on the literal fly to the changes in environment and predator populations over such distances.

Because of their exposure in races to hundreds or even thousands of other birds from lofts all across the country, Racers also have the strongest immune system of any purebred.

Birmingham Roller

This is not a breed that flies long distances like Racers or Ferals, but as a performer, it is still required to be structurally sound.

Performances consist of flying in a small flock called a Kit to perform a waterfall effect of staggered rolls where birds backflip 15-20 times in a row in midair, straighten from the roll, and rejoin the kit, one after another.

They are less flighty than Ferals and less independent than Racers, typically working much more closely with their trainer: keeping within sight of the loft and earshot of the person.

This makes them a little more human focused and naturally inclined to be biddable.

Though many traits vary wildly by line, these tend to be very small birds; energetic, jaunty, and playful.

Aside from adding that wonderful temperament, they will help keep the end result small.

Portuguese Tumbler

I waffled on these for quite a while, mostly because of their very small size and absolute breeding overdrive.

But they are excellent parents despite being the second smallest breed of pigeon in the world, and, unlike the Valencian Figurita, generally don't need one of their nestlings fostered.

And that speaks very highly of just how physically fit they are.

There are a few big breeds among the ones selected specifically for temperament, so Ports and Birms should help bring the size down and improve the parenting ability of the blend.

But the real push was just how Exuberantly friendly and playful this gleeful little breed is!

There are two performance breeds I have no hands on experience with yet that I would like to add:

Oriental Roller

This one is a dual purpose:

Once again, a structurally sound bird of moderate build, because it is still flown in competition.

But what interests me is the tail.

This breed is one of the major components of the Mindian (Miniature Indian) Fantail, Bred to Indian Fantails too small to compete with in order to improve the structural soundness and preserve the fan.

And as one of the embellishments I want in this breed is a slight fan, this body type is ideal to help display it comfortably.

Turkish Takla

The Takla is a Roller breed, still flown in competition, and becoming popular in the US for its docile, biddable temperament.

It comes with or without crest or muffs, and I very much like the grouse muffs of this breed.

We'll have to see what the temperament is really like, but the bird is gorgeous, and I expect it will blend well in terms of structure, temperament, and moderate embellishments that are still eye catching.

Breeds selected for temperament:

Show Line Danzig Highflier

This breed is the single best investment I have ever made towards the temperament of my breeding flock!

They are intensely friendly! Every bird I have raised with any amount of Danzig in them has gone on to be a beloved cuddle bug of a pet.

My Husband's ESA, Cotta, is the closest we have gotten so far to the behaviors we want in a bird bred for Service work.

Not only is he my Husband's devoted ESA, he also acts as mine when I need regulation, and even Cheeto's when he struggles with impulse control or obsessive behaviors.

Cotta is so intensely human focused that he has organized Cheeto and another bird who was only with us temporarily to provide me aid during a very severe episode of vertigo.

That temperament has passed so reliable through Satin's family that I would have to be an idiot not to incorporate this breed.

Frillback

A shockingly mellow breed!

And not just because they could only be less aerodynamic if you gave them parachutes..

A great test to rule out learned helplessness being the root of any big or showy breed's apparent mellowness is to cross them with a smaller breed that flies well so the offspring will be more maneuverable than the big or highly embellished parent.

If the offspring that can physically evade you is flighty and nervous by nature, then the "mellow docility" of the parent is just learned helplessness.

But if that more maneuverable offspring is just as docile and tractable as the parent, then you can be pretty well assured that that really is the parent's temperament.

Frillbacks fall so soundly into the "genuinely that sweet tempered" category that it has passed on into multiple generations of my flock.

I won't use this breed much, because the curls are a little much and it's hard to find clean legged birds or lines with only moderate muffs.

But their temperament is so fantastic that it would be remiss of me not to use them at all.

Lucerne

This elegant Swiss breed borders on too mellow for its own good.

There are lines with peeps so quiet that they fail to trigger the parent's feeding response. Paired with another breed, though, even completely oblivious Lucerne will respond correctly once they see their mate feeding.

My first pair, despite hating me with the fury of a thousand suns, were so perfectly tractable that working with them was a breeze.

Some of my most out going individuals are crossed with this breed.

I love their structure and their very moderate Grouse muffs.

They have a shorter beak than I like, but it's long enough to be functional, and the other breeds will keep the beak from getting too short.

Show Type Racing Homer

This is another show breed famed for their docility.

While it isn't as absolutely incredible as the breeds higher on the list, I will be incorporating them for their very simple, elegant structure, and bold, out going curiosity.

Classic Old Frill

This breed is somewhat of an indulgence, I admit.

Of the breeds included for temperament, this is the one most likely to be flighty or skittish.

But I have such a deep and abiding love for what they are: A return to form to the original standard of the Turkish Hunkari from the now beakless Modern and Oriental Frills.

Basically, the avian version of the Retromops (If you love Pugs, you should look this breed up. It's a return to the original standard: a pug with a muzzle, that can breathe normally and regulate its body temperature.)

This breed was my first love, and I want to continue to support the breeders that loved them enough to write preventative measures into the breed standard requiring that their beaks never get so short that they can't feed their peeps unaided.

There is one other breed I want to add for temperament entirely because of the temperament of mixed progeny I have purchased for the breeding program:

American Show Racer

Titan and her Mother, Ibis, take very strongly after their ASR Grandmother/Mother, respectively.

Ibis was so friendly and outgoing on arrival that I was sorely tempted to keep her as a personal pet instead of having her join the breeding flock.

Titan, despite being very defensive when she was little, grew up to be so much like her mother it takes my breath away.

I am curious to see if this breed is really that sweet tempered and it really passes so reliably, or if Ibis and her line inherited their temperament from the Lucerne side.

There are only two breeds added purely for their embellishments:

Old Dutch Capuchin

I love the Danzig's mane, and I think a little touch of ODC will add some luxury to it.

My experience with this breed was not the best temperament wise, but I have read that not to be the norm and hope to have better luck with a different line.

Garden Fantail

This is the most structurally sound of all fantails, able to fully close the fan when not displaying to fly and walk comfortably.

I do not want a full fan in this breed, but Fans seem to be a partial dominant with variable expression, if my two half fantails,

Sher and

Soiree, are any indication.

Not a necessity, by any stretch, but I really like the look of a moderate fan.

Finally, there is a single breed I plan to incorporate for color.

Archangel

There are exactly two traits I want from the Archangel:

The dominant half of its bronzing, which results in a robin like rusty breast in heterozygous form

And the intense sheen of its recessive grease quill.

With luck and patience, I hope for these nine breeds; six for performance, six for temperament, two for embellishments, and one for color...

Add up to a healthy, long lived Therapy breed whose intelligence is not blunted by their laid back mellow docility and whose unique look sacrifices none of their structural integrity.

The breeder cap will remain at ten pair, hatch controlled between evaluation periods.

Babies will be evaluated for six months.

If neither is an improvement over one or both parents, both will be classed as pets and adopted out.

If one is an improvement over which ever parent fits the program the least well, or better yet the ideal blend of their parents beneficial traits, then that one will stay, the parents will retire and go up for adoption as a bonded pair, and the sibling will be made available to the public.

New blood will come in to improve what ever trait is most lacking after each evaluation period.

Offspring we produce may become available at younger than six months once the temperament I want is reliably consistent.

But I expect that to take a fair few generations.

[kpforpresident]

a precursor to this

/////

I tried to warn you when you were a child

I told you not to get lost in the wild

I sent omens and all kinds of signs

I taught you melodies, poems, and rhymes

Oh, you fool, there are rules, I am coming for you

(You can run but you can't escape)

Darkness brings evil things, oh, the reckoning begins

(You will open the yawning grave)

The Yawning Grave - Lord Huron

~~~

Clarke’s smile had nearly split her rosy cheeks as she twisted one jolival finger in the air, the same cape spinning merrily in front of Lexa’s disbeliving eyes as it made a neat rotation within the air before landing obediently in Lexa’s lap. 

“I- Clarke this is….”

“Beautiful? Perfect? Incredibly fitting for a promising young witch of newly sixteen?” Clarke had piped up from her seat in the hay-covered loft, having accosted Lexa with a rousing chorus of both “Happy Birthday” as well as a verifiable mountain of sloppily levitated presents upon her entry into the barn. 

“Well, yes. All of those things. Bit it’s also too much. I got you a witchlight for your birthday. This must have cost…” Lexa trails off as she runs an admiring finger down a glistening green seam. The cloak shimmers in response, the trace amounts of magic that were woven into the very cloth reacting to the same power that sung through Lexa’s being. 

Clarke’s smile dims slightly upon seeing the defeated slouch in Lexa’s shoulders. Standing fluidly and brushing trace amounts of hay off of her matching dark blue cloak, she floats gracefully to land, catlike, in front of Lexa. 

They both pretend not to notice how Lexa holds her breath when Clarke reaches forward to gently brush an auburn curl from Lexa’s cheek. 

“I wanted to, Lex. It practically followed me home, you know how these capes are. Besides, I’ve been helping out so much at my mum’s apothecary, I had the extra gold. And, every witch deserves a cape for her sixteenth birthday, it’s witching law. Or so says nan.” 

They exchange a mutual hidden smile at the mention of Clarke’s grandmother, a wonderful woman with twinkling blue eyes who just so happened to produce the meanest Amnesia spell of this side of the Atlantic. Rumor had it Clarke had also inherited her spell casting ability, a skill that Lexa was keen to not try out any time soon. 

“Well…” Lexa draws out the word heistently as she stoops just enough to let Clarke, mouth twitching to hide a gleeful smile, gently tie the velvety strands around Lexa’s slim shoulders. “If nana says so, who am I to argue with the head of the Griffin Coven?” 

Clarke’s fingers linger briefly at the base of Lexa’s neck, pointer finger resting oh so gently on her pulse, which flutters like a trapped hummingbird under the attention. 

“Preciscely, Woods.” 

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to Ingek73 for sending this renovated school, circa 1906, apt. in Amsterdam with an interesting remodel choice. 3bds, 2ba, €1,250,000 / $1.371M + €348.88 / $382mo. fee.

There happens to be a glass structure in the combination living/dining room.

And, it happens to be the see-thru primary bedroom's en-suite bathroom with a glass loft work space/guest room above. Notice how the sofa is placed discretely in front of the tub.

This was a school, so I'm intrigued by the industrial stuff, like that machine and car fender in the dining area. The lighting choice is definitively industrial.

Galley kitchen with professional style cook tops and oven. Lots of cool exposed pipes.

Look at that contraption on the kitchen ceiling. Kind of a Steampunk crane.

Modern industrial kitchen with doors that open to reveal a small private terrace.

This is the smallest bedroom. It's nice and cozy.

The 2nd bath is more of a private space.

And, this is the primary bedroom with the see-thru en-suite.

Oddly, they don't have a photo of the finished bath, only when it was under construction.

This, however, is the loft space above it. Look, it even has a little balcony.

The view from the balcony.

I'm not too keen on using it for storage, though.

I think that a better option for storage would be this laundry/utility room.

Terraces at the back of the building.

[lyriumlullaby-ao3]

hello i’m back from the dead (sleeping) and it’s time to talk about

why Cullen won’t let anyone fix the hole in his ceiling 💖

someone has probably said this before but it wasn’t me, so here we go!

so remember that Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath grew up with three siblings, who he describes as being “very loud.” i see him as always being a very disciplined child, kind and warm and willing to let Mia take charge (because fighting her for it would have been useless), but a steadfast follower with a keen sense of justice and fairness, willing to voice his objections when he had any, and very fastidious about not breaking rules when Mia or Branson tried to stir up trouble. you know, that whole second child archetype. he was prone to a bit of escapism, running off to that pier on some lake which is definitely not in Crestwood, which tells us he likes having somewhere to escape to, somewhere to run if he gets overwhelmed.

skipping forward a bit, when he lived in Kirkwall, he had quite a bit of freedom to come and go physically, but to me at least it seems like he felt trapped by his duties under Meredith. he explicitly describes her keeping things from him, things she thought he’d disagree with as her second in command. he felt lied to, deceived, manipulated by her (bc he was), i think, even before the events at the end of DA2 that expose her for what she is. can you imagine that feeling? like he actually wants to do good, to treat the mages fairly and help keep them and everyone else safe (that’s why he signed up, after all), but he’s got this nasty, evil commanding officer who’s whispering in his ear, twisting all that good intention to do her malicious bidding. it must have felt like beating his head against a brick wall, like no matter what he did, his sincere desire to believe that other people are fundamentally good disappointed him. i always say that Meredith gave Cullen just enough rope to hang himself with.

jumping forward again, let’s talk about the Winter Palace. Cullen is very obviously uncomfortable there, and it makes sense why: he can’t leave, not without being extraordinarily rude, can’t get away from the people bothering and sexually harassing him, can’t get out of that jacket that is too damn tight. if you bring Cole with you, at one point in his ‘Investigate’ tree he comments that, “Cullen is afraid. They’re hurting him, following fear. He shouldn’t be here.”

all of this is just to illustrate: man’s got a Thing about feeling trapped, stuck, unable to fight back or defend himself or just flat out leave. and why does he have such a hard time with this?

because of that one time that Uldred blew up the Circle at Kinloch Hold in Ferelden. for reasons we don’t fully grasp, rather than being claimed by the demons or simply killed in the fighting, Cullen held out. he resisted demonic possession completely, somehow, and was instead trapped within that magical prison with no possibility of escape, probably for weeks. no escape from his hunger, thirst, or lyrium withdrawal, and no escape from the (probably Desire) demon(s) that tortured him with freedom if he’d only give in to those things he won’t quite allow himself to want.

so the fact that there’s a hole in his ceiling, even months into the repairs at Skyhold, when almost everything else has been fixed but a few, hard-to-access bits of masonry, is not lost on me. and sure, you could always blame it on lighting for the romance scene that takes place up there. but i like to think that it’s there because Cullen refuses to let them fix it. here’s why:

Cullen doesn’t like to stray far from his post. he likes that there’s a loft with a bed where he can pretend to sleep that’s not far from his desk, where he commands the lives of thousands of people. (i think at one point in Absolution, it’s revealed that at its height, the Inquisition was composed of ~10,000 troops, plus all the necessary support personnel.) the fate of the world is quite literally depending on his ability to do his job, and when the lyrium withdrawals make him feel like he must be losing his mind, he likes that he’s got an easy choice between resting (like he knows he probably should) or working (like he knows he really needs to), separated only by a little wooden ladder and a few planks that make up the floor.

he needs that little hole in the ceiling. if ever something happened at Skyhold, and it wasn’t safe or possible to leave through the three fucking doors on the lower level, he needs a back up plan, a way to get out from the top of that tower, or he’s every bit as trapped as he was at the Winter Palace, or by Meredith, or by Uldred and his demons, and he can’t be, not here, not with so many lives in his hands. not after Haven.

he needs it when he wakes up shouting, drenched in sweat, from another nightmare where he’s back there, trapped with demons who’ve murdered or enslaved your brothers and sisters and are trying to break you next, or pinned under Meredith’s thumb, doing things that he knows are wrong, he knows, but she’s his commanding officer and he trusts her, so how wrong can they really be? he needs it, first thing when he opens his eyes, to know he’s got an escape route, a backup plan. he’s safe.

and when he finally gives in to temptation, that thing he wants more than anything that he really shouldn’t let himself want, when the Inquisitor confesses that she wants to be with him when this is all over and he very dramatically sweeps aside everything on his desk, his whole life, shattering it all over the floor, he needs that little patch of sky to remind him it’s real. he’s free to leave whenever he needs to.

and that’s what allows him to stay.

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Prompt: Evan tells Tommy to “Get ready for a rigorous night” or “get ready to burn lots of calories and sweat” or something suggestive so Tommy thinks he’s getting lucky and it’s nice to see Buck take charge; but then when Evan comes over, whatever he was referring to/bringing was NOT Sex

Nonny, I had so much fun with this, thank you :) This is fluff and crack, I suppose. And I'm not sorry. Once more Tommy's POV. Have fun! Here's all 4 prompt fills on AO3 in case anybody wants to leave a keysmash :)

You're Mine

— I’m burning inside and we both know why —

"Get ready for a rigorous night!"

Tommy chokes on the coffee that Buck has shoved into his hand just a minute ago (he’s eager to buy coffee for Tommy since he’s finally learned his preferred method of preparation). And then, with that cheeky wide grin, the guy bursts out something like that, in the middle of the sidewalk, still within earshot of the fire station.

Buck pats him on the shoulders, around which he puts his arm a moment later and asks, "You all right?"

"This coffee is just hot. It’s a very hot coffee. Wh… what did you say?"

It’s not like Tommy to stutter, but Buck still has that sassy look on his pretty face.

"I've got plans for us tonight," Buck exclaims, gesticulating fiercely –is he just excited or is he already aroused? You never know with this man.

"Plans."

Tommy tries very hard to make a deadpan face, but how could anybody, talking to Buck?

"Oh yeah," Buck returns as he opens the driver's door of Tommy's car, "but my lips are sealed, prepare for a surprise."

Tommy is definitely surprised. And confused. He puts his coffee on the roof of the car to check his pockets for the keys, still wondering why Buck gets behind the wheel of his vehicle (and why he’s willing to give him the keys, should he finally find them).

He finds them, and yes, Buck drives Tommy’s car, that's as self-evident as how he slipped into Tommy's life in the first place or that they’re headed for the loft. During the ride, they talk about all sorts of things, which you have to give Buck credit for because usually, the man has a hard time keeping a secret. Tommy is only half listening, still processing the announcement of a „rigorous night“.

But they’re still in the middle of Buck's discovery process. Buck is no doubt eager when it comes to that topic, and his sexual experiences are, well, a subject of conversation in other fire stations, too. The rumors are hardly exaggerated, because Tommy also has already learned a lot about Buck so far. For example, that his bedroom voice is a whole octave lower, and that he’s exceptionally keen on (and good at) dirty talking in this voice. Or that he writes such unrestrained text messages that Tommy turns off his phone if there’s a risk that someone might accidentally glance at his display. He’s a good, no, a perfect kisser, he loves to touch and makes the cutest little noises when he’s touched.

And that’s about it.

Tommy wonders if this is his fault. Of course, their shifts often don't match, they don't see each other as often as they both would like, but maybe it's because he's holding back too much. If growing up in a toxic household has taught him one thing, it’s not to push somebody you like. And it happens he likes that man a lot. 

So far, he’s approached the whole matter kind of like a project you divide into steps and milestones, a project called „Introduce Evan Buckley Into Sex With a Man.“ He’s just taken baby steps so far, trying to give Buck his room, letting him decide when he’s ready. Maybe Buck has just decided that this time is now. And that’s actually pretty hot.

Tommy is quite distracted during their ride through a heavy evening rush hour. First of all, Buck drives like a maniac as soon as there is even the vaguest gap in the traffic, and Tommy is pretty attached to his car, his life and to Buck. And second, Tommy, who has made the first move in pretty much all of his past relationships – and has sometimes regretted it – imagines in somewhat too vivid colors what Buck might be up to.

"Oh, wait, I forgot something," Buck says, pulling across the lane at breakneck speed; Tommy clings to the door handle. No one should jump out of a moving car, but the impulse is definitely there. Tommy laments his squealing tires as the car stops, parked halfway straight.

"Be right back," Buck calls, and he's gone.

He virtually runs – you can't call it anything else, he doesn't walk normally – into a 7/11. Tommy looks at himself in the vanity mirror, runs his fingers through his hair and sniffs his shirt, and Buck’s back. He throws a brown paper bag onto the back seat.

"Can't miss this," he says.

That crooked grin and the slightly flushed cheeks are a bit of a giveaway. It's downright cute, he must have bought condoms. Tommy slides a little uneasily back and forth in his seat as Buck starts the engine again. This has maybe as much to do with the fact that the guy is already exceeding the speed limit when he starts off as with the condoms Tommy has been carrying in his pockets for weeks.

He wonders what he actually expected. Dating Buck has been a ride so far, for sure. It's not every day that you get invited to a wedding shortly after meeting someone. It's also not every day that you rescue people from a sinking ship together. In that sense, this is harmless. Buck is just enthusiastic, and since Tommy has discovered that he enjoys being attached to those sensual lips, that's fine. However, the tension is almost killing him.

"Must be some hot stuff you've got planned for tonight," he remarks casually. 

"Absolutely," Buck exclaims with a broad grin, and Tommy regrets asking, because he starts gesticulating again, and he would prefer Buck to keep both hands on the wheel. "You won't regret it. It's about time someone showed you the ropes."

It's a remark that is as cheeky as it is quirky, but Tommy realizes that he finds it very stimulating. Perhaps he shouldn't take it too literally, after all, they've never talked about such preferences before, but the idea is certainly... inspiring. Buck is clearly in the right mood, and Tommy decides he can play along.

"I'm already looking forward to my snack," he returns.

Buck gives him a look – oh dear, watch the road, Evan – and laughs, asking, "Were you watching me in the store? Ah, wait, if you can already guess what I'm up to, don't say anything. I've been thinking about how to do it for days, so don't spoil it for me."

"Don't worry, if you like it mysterious, I'm your man," Tommy quips.

For the rest of the ride they exchange more jokey and, in Tommy’s view, slightly lewd remarks, and if Buck's intention was to tease him into being restless like a teenager before his first time, he's succeeded.

While in the elevator to the loft, they make out a bit, which definitely heightens the tension. It looks like a romantic evening in Buck's apartment. He definitely planned this, Tommy thinks, because Buck had a shift and must have set this up beforehand. The blinds on the windows in the corner with his sofa are already down. Buck, who like most firemen thinks candles in the apartment are the devil's work, switches on a couple of fake LED-candles with a remote control.

Then he gets two beers, drops onto the couch and says, "Well, I think it's time."

"O… kay?"

Tommy blinks, thinking that's a strange approach even for Buck, but who is he to complain?

"Sit down, I'm about to start," says Buck and tosses Tommy the bag he brought from the store.

"Oh," Tommy manages to utter, "that's ... I mean, if you say so…"

Surprised, he realizes that he is nervous. He knows Buck is a go-getter, even in bed, but this seems a bit too much like they both have planned a project. If he pulls out a clipboard, we need to talk, Tommy thinks. 

"So," Buck begins solemnly, "I set this out since Christopher told me... You're crushing the potato chips, Tommy."

"What?"

Tommy is still trying to understand how Christopher suddenly slipped into this conversation, pressing the bag to his chest a little too tightly out of sheer tension. Now he looks inside, and sure enough, he finds two bags of potato chips.

"I didn't know which one you liked. It took me almost a month to find your favorite coffee, so I thought I'd go with the two most popular varieties."

Buck starts babbling, which means he's nervous, but Tommy doesn't quite understand why. He rummages in the bag… there really aren't any condoms in it.

Oh. Oh, damn.

"Christopher," he says, and Buck looks at him with a frown that rumples his beautiful forehead, "Huh?"

"You said something about Eddie’s kid."

"Oh, right," Buck replies with a grin, and he starts gesticulating again, "He told me that you agreed with him on Revenge of the Sith. It being the best movie of the trilogies? Come on, I love him, but that kid has no idea. He never understood Return of the Jedi. I agree that you need to have seen both, but I figured you're a grown man, you need to form an informed opinion."

Buck takes a deep breath, and Tommy thinks that even now, in this fit of nerdiness, he's incredibly cute. This hits him a little unexpectedly, because actually, it should be a slightly embarrassing cold shower.

"This is about Star Wars?" he asks, and he can't stop himself from laughing.

"Yeah, sure... so you didn't guess it after all! Wait, what did you think it was about?"

Buck cocks his head, but right now, he so much resembles a puppy that Tommy couldn’t bear to pull the treat right out from under his nose.

"It's not that important," Tommy waves it off, sits down next to Buck and fleetingly kisses his flushed cheeks. "Revenge of the Sith is the cornerstone of order 66. You need to watch it to understand the clone’s motivation in The Bad Batch."

Then he looks at Buck, who launches into a long-winded explanation of why Return of the Jedi is the better movie in every case, but he doesn’t really listen, he’s already lost in those blue eyes again.

"Turn on the movie and we'll see," he says, but he thinks he won’t be able to focus at all. There’s a thought rising inside him, and it won’t let him go.

Good heavens. I love this idiot.

[sortyourlifeoutmate]

I ventured into my mother's loft to help her with some stuff and, while I was there, decided to see what my Orks were doing and how they'd held up.

My younger self has a lot to answer for.

Here we see abundant evidence of my habit of basecoating everything in white for some Godforsaken reason. In my defence I was, like, nine. Also note the Nob in mega armour there with what appears to be a Chaos Terminator's lightning claw, for some reason.

What I assume is meant to be a battlewagon? Clearly not something I felt the need to finish. Got a nice zzap gun on it, though. Also picture: my child's tiny, grasping hand.

My Warboss! You know, by my standards that's practically a Golden Daemon entry. The base even has flock on it! Flock I say! Keen-eyed among you will plainly recognise that this is just the Warboss with attack squig only with Ghazgkull's arm whacked on. I'm a genius!

And now this has no excuse at all. That's just a nightmare. That is, I believe, a Killa Kan's body glued to some (metal) Space Marine Dreadnought legs, with a Great Gargant Lifta Droppa for an arm and an assault cannon and attached rokkit rack (from Gorkamorka?) stuck on the side. Horrendous.

And this is just a Trukk with two grabba arms stuck on the back for... some reason.

Not pictured: the heap of, like, fifty boys in varying states of disrepair. Or the grots. Or the 'looted' Leman Russ that looks like I just dipped it in a puddle of paint.

[spotsandsocks]

Cover art by @ronordmann it’s beautiful and I love it (and you 💕)

This Must Be Love 5.7k of fluff love and confessions.

Three days before Valentine’s Day Buck has plans to help Chris with his homework, except the evening takes an unexpected turn when Chris has some unexpected questions about love and that leads to something else unexpected.

The living room table is all set up and ready, Buck’s stash of pens, pencils and various school based items has increased ten fold over the last few years. He even has a special box for all the stuff Chris needs when he’s doing homework at his loft. Today the box is out and he’s ready, primed and even keen to get some homework done. 

It’s ironic reallly homework was never his thing, Maddie always had to drag him through it. Buck’s lucky Chris is still relatively motivated to do his. He’s double checked the equipment all laid out twice when there’s a knock on his door. Right on time.

An enthusiastic pull at his front door reveals his two favourite people and he greets them with a smile.

“Gentlemen, Buck’s House of Homework awaits you.”

“Buck.” Chris sounds exasperated and rolls his eyes as he walks past heading straight for the table but there’s a glimpse of a smile for him despite the welcome.  Behind his son Eddie’s own eyes roll, his face a picture of parental patience worn thin.

Buck wonders if either of them know how similar they look when they do that. Eddie mouths “bad mood” and shakes his head to accompany a shrug that declares he has no idea what’s wrong with the boy in front of him.

With a slight sigh no doubt at the teenage-ness of it all  Eddie walks over to Chris to say goodbye.

“Ok I’m going. I will be back in a couple of hours and then if you have done your homework.” He ruffles Chris' hair and gets an annoyed jerk of protest as Chris moves his head away in an attempt to dislodge his dad’s hand. 

That makes Eddie roll his eyes again but while Buck sniggers softly he does feel sorry for his friend , it’s tough adjusting to an almost teenager. Giving up on his son Eddie looks at Buck to continue “and if you haven’t eaten too many snacks” Buck throws him an outraged look at the suggestion. “ I will treat us all to pizza.”

“I can cook us something.” Buck offers quickly because he loves cooking for them, it makes him feel like they’re a family. “I don’t mind.”

Eddie get a soft look on his face as he closes the gap between them and once close enough his hand lifts and then it’s gently holding onto Buck’s arm. It lands just at the edge of his T-shirt sleeve so Eddie’s palm is half on his skin. Buck tries hard not to notice how warm and strong his hand feels.

 “You don’t have to.” 

“I know but I like to, cooking’s fun but  usually I can’t be bothered if it's just me so…’” He finishes on a hopeful note.

“Ok, if you’re sure then a home cooked meal with my boys sounds perfect.” The smile on Eddie’s face widens.

Buck looks at him in admiration. God he looks so happy, so much lighter than he has for all the years Buck’s known him. He’s so proud of Eddie, of how far he’s come. The smile on his own face is instinctive, mirroring the one he’s receiving, while at the same time he tries to damp down on all the feelings the words ‘home’ and ‘my boys’ stir in his chest. 

Instead of dwelling on all that he pushes Eddie towards the door, “Now go. Go do your things. We’ll be right here.”

Eddie does as he’s told but turns to look at him from the doorway. He pauses, so Buck has the full weight of his warm brown eyes on him for a handful of heartbeats. Just enough time for him to tell himself to stop it; stop reacting, stop hoping, stop wanting. He doesn’t think stop loving. He knows he can’t, he’s tried.

That look gets him every time. You’d think he’d be used to them by now. Eddie doesn’t mean anything by it. He can’t possibly. He shouldn’t let those big brown eyes do anything to him, least of all get his hopes up.

Eddie’s eyes slip from Buck to Chris and then back again, “Be good, both of you. Especially you.” That last bit is accompanied by a quick wink in Buck’s direction that spikes his heart rate instantly. 

Then he’s gone and Buck left staring at the door, he turns, a huge sigh slipping out unheeded and finds Chris sat at his kitchen table staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“You ok bud?”

Chris goes “humph”, a noise Buck’s never heard from him before. Looks like Eddie’s right and Chris is in a mood. He decides to ignore it and goes to the fridge to get some drinks for them. If he glances over at his almost teenage companion a few times, just to check which way the wind is blowing mood wise, at least he’s subtle about it.

He takes one final glance over the rim of his juice then risks it.

“You good Chris?” 

“Fine.” 

Not entirely convincing. He pushes his luck a little further. “You sure?”

This time Chris sighs and dramatically drops his pen on the table.

“Buck?” The boy's eyes are fixed on the table. There’s a weighty pause then Chris looks up, right at him and says,

“What’s it like being in love?”

Unfortunately for him, he’d just taken a mouthful of juice so the question reduces Buck to a coughing and spluttering mess.

That came completely out of left field. At least he hopes it did. Shit. What if Chris has worked it out. What if Chris has noticed how he feels about his dad and worse what if he tells Eddie and what if they both end up hating him for it. What if he loses them, what if, what if, what if….

Chris is looking at him, he has to get it together. Grabbing a cloth to wipe at his face and dab the stains from his top Buck says, “Um.”

Which is marvelously articulate and not at all suspicious. So he tries again and this time manages something a little more like an actual sentence.

“So I’m…um  why why um… why would you think I know that?”

Chris looks at him like he’s stupid. “Uh cos you're old, and haven’t you been in love like loads of times?” 

Oh thank god, his heart rate crashes back to normal. That’s ok then. He can handle that.

He crosses the room to sit with Chris.

“No, not really, definitely not lots of times anyway.” 

Counting backwards from Eddie he thinks maybe three, is that too many or not enough for a man his age. It’s nowhere near his other number, that one has never had a lot to do with love but that’s hardly something to be discussing with Christopher.

Christopher’s question is tricky but he tries to be helpful. “And I think love feels different each time and different for different people, so really it’s difficult to explain.” 

Chris looks extremely unimpressed by this piece of news.

“That’s not helpful. How am I supposed to know then!?”

Buck chuckles at the plaintive question but Chris has a point.

“It’s tricky. Sorry bud, no easy answers.” He waits a few seconds. “So am I allowed to ask why you want to know, might help me be more specific?”

Chris looks away, confirming Buck’s suspicions so he keeps his voice gentle, “Maybe you like someone? Or maybe you think you do?”

Chris’s eyes dart back to his then down. His voice is quiet.

“Maybe.”

“Is this about Valentines?”  It’s the 14th in three days. 

Chris’ nod is so small it would be easy to miss.

“You thinking about maybe giving someone a card?” Buck’s tries to keep the ‘aw that’s adorable’ look off his face but Chris’ little face screws up, and damn it, he’s still so cute although Buck would never dare say that these days. 

Eventually Christopher reluctantly commits to another “Maybe.”

After a second failed attempt to catch his eye Buck says “You don’t have to sign it you know.”

This time Chris sighs and says with a hit of irritation “I know that!” Buck waits. “but I don’t even know if I like them or if I like them. It’s so confusing!”

Oh. Buck can identify with that. His mouth twists into a small sympathetic smile.

“Yup, it certainly is.”

“Even for grown ups?” Chris sounds horrified.

“Absolutely!” 

To be honest he's pretty sure it never actually gets any easier or if it does he’s still waiting for it to happen.

“So how am I supposed to know if you guys can’t even tell! It’s impossible!!”

Chris sounds quite emotional and Buck doesn’t exactly panic but he doesn’t want to do  the wrong thing either. 

“Maybe we should wait for your dad? You, you should probably talk to him about this. Not me.”

Chris pulls another one of  those ‘are you stupid faces’.

“Why not? I wanna talk to you. You’re like my second dad anyway.”

Buck’s heart stops. 

“Chris…” his own voice is breathless and barely audible even in the silence of his loft.

The boy before him has no idea he’s said anything remarkable, he looks up, confused at the change of his tone. “What? That’s what dad says. He says it all the time.”

Buck's brain is struggling to keep up. He’s rather stunned by Chris' casual comments. He has to swallow before he can ask,

“H he does?”

“Yup” Chris doesn’t even look up this time just does his next math problem like he hasn’t rocked Buck’s entire world.

“He’s always telling people about you, my teacher, the neighbours. He even told my dentist about you last week, when she was going on about enamel. Dad said “Buck already told him that but who listens to their dad!” Chris says it in an pretty good impression of Eddie, then mutters to himself “embarrassing! I listen, just don’t wanna brush sometimes.”

Buck blinks rapidly. Had Eddie really said that? About him?

“Anyway,” Chris carries on oblivious to his inner turmoil “tell me what it’s like being in love.”

“Um” he wants to say it’s like this, your heart going crazy because you think for just a second they might love you back. 

It’s wanting to be part of someone’s life so badly your whole body aches with it,  that you want to belong to them and have them choose you back. 

It’s a voice you turn to with a smile already on your face because you know the face you’ll see will be your favourite one.

It’s brown eyes, that see all of you and smile.

He doesn’t say any of that. How could he, so he stalls until he can find words better suited to a young man with questions about his heart.

Proud his voice sounds so normal Buck buys himself time.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea.” 

Chris looks at him suspiciously but Buck grabs some card and pens and waves them enthusiastically.

“Why don’t you make a Valentine’s card and we can talk about it. Then at the end if you decide you like them like that , you’ll have something to give them.

Chris eyes narrow thoughtfully, “Ok, it’s not a terrible idea but you have to make one too.”

He laughs, it’s either that or sigh, “ I haven’t got anyone to give one to.”

Chris gives him a look he doesn’t quite understand and mutters something under his breath again, this time Buck only catches a few words but “could” and “tried” are clear enough.

“What was that?” He studies his companion with a slight frown, he’s feeling a little confused by surly pre teen Chris, his sympathy for Eddie is increasing dramatically by the minute.

“Nothing, but I’m only making one if you do.”

It’s not worth arguing so he gives in , “Ok, if you insist.” 

He has no idea what he’ll do with his card but if it helps Chris work through some stuff he’s all for it. 

“Let’s finish your homework then we can get creative.”

Read the rest on AO3