#lest I be stuck forever

[notherpuppet]

Still chipping away at Part 7, sometimes one panel takes 3 hours and 8 redraws of the same face 😀

[doyelikehaggis]

I know that @gleeful-paintbox-project isn’t really running anymore, but I was looking back through the prompts and an idea came to me from the week 1 prompt: songs from 2009 that glee could’ve covered. I just have this whole scene in my head of Kurt and Finn singing “Butterfly Fly Away” with Burt and Carole as a sort of goodbye song.

(Below is just how I see/hear the song being sung in my head)

[Kurt]

You tucked me in, turned out the light

Kept me safe and sound at night

Little boys depend on things like that

[Finn]

Brushed my teeth and combed my hair

Had to drive me everywhere

You were always there when I looked back

[Finn & Kurt]

You had to do it all alone

Make a living, make a home

Must have been as hard as it could be

[Finn]

And when I couldn’t sleep at night

Scared things wouldn’t turn out right

You would hold my hand and sing to me

[Carole & Finn]

Caterpillar in the tree

How you wonder who you’ll be

Can’t go far, but you can always dream

[Burt & Kurt]

Wish you may and wish you might

Don’t you worry, hold on tight

I promise you there will come a day

Butterfly fly away

[Carole & Burt / Finn & Kurt]

Butterfly fy away (Butterfly fly away)

Got your wings, now you can’t stay

Take those dreams and make them all come true

Butterfly fly away (Butterfly fly away)

You’ve been waiting for this day

All along you’ve known just what to do

Butterfly, butterfly, butterfly

Butterfly fly away

Butterfly fly away

Butterfly fly away

[tiktaalic]

I need some whimsy in my life so im implementing something called Time Loop Saturday where i pick one saturday a month where i have to do a bunch of things ive never done before to see if that Breaks The Loop

[divinekangaroo]

I remember reading a Professionals fanfic years and years ago where Ray Doyle introduced himself to a dude in a hotel and the dude repeated back, doubtfully, ‘Raid Oil?’ and I still fucking laugh about this now, randomly walking around and my brain throws it up for no reason and I laugh at nothing in the middle of nowhere, like, over a decade after reading the fanfic and over forty years after the actual source canon finished i was not even alive when this was made

[golden-afternoon]

Yeah I was working on another actual fic but uhhh the 'Nari brainrot took over so uhhh here take me going insane over him and rambling about what comes to my mind. Kay? Kay.

Warnings - nsfw, mating cycle talk from a person who only has google by her side, absolutely not proofread having gone straight from brain to paper, and just know there is a solid chance I'll have more to say about this in the future.

Tighnari, by his very nature, is a very compartmentalized person. His own problems stay within himself to be dealt with later when he is done and everyone else's needs are already attended to. Always concerned with helping others and keeping things in order, even to the point of staying up into the early hours of the morning, less concerned with himself than those around him. If he’s ever struggling with anything at all, he will do absolutely everything in his power to keep anyone from knowing about it, much less something as personal as this.

In the early months of the year, especially as Lantern Rite nears, Tighnari becomes withdrawn. Quieter, more distant. The Forest Watchers have been talking for forever back and forth swapping theories and rumors in not so hushed tones.

“I heard Master Tighnari lost a family member around this time of year.”

“Really? I heard he just reeeeally hates any kind of festivities especially Lantern Rite because it's so noisy, even when not in Liyue.”

“I dunno, maybe he's just sensitive to the cold?”

Unlike the usual case where he was quick to nip such chatter in the bud and tell off the Rangers for gossiping, he remains entirely silent on the issue, otherwise carrying on as usual. Setting up excursions, documenting his findings, helping and guiding wherever he was needed…

Until he just can't stand it anymore. With hardly a word, save perhaps to Collei to ask her to care for things in his absence, he retreats, hiding himself away in his hut, barricading himself in completely so no nosy Rangers have any reason to loiter around.

He hates it.

He understands it's natural and it's going to happen and blah blah blah, but it was such a nuisance to his life he would give anything to not have to put up with it. The worst of it usually lasts a week or two before he can at least carry some semblance of normalcy and feel willing and able to return to work, but while he's in it, it drives him insane.

Some years it's so bad that he can't even focus on anything other than the absolutely filthy thoughts that plague his mind, his hands shaking so hard he can't even hold a pen long enough to attempt any sort of work. Even like this he just doesn't feel right not being productive especially when he's always running around here and there the rest of the year, why should this be any different?

Head slamming into his desk with a groan, a flush curling up his cheeks and neck. Eventually he has to crack, begrudgingly caring for the needs that grow and grow and grow and become nigh insatiable during his rut.

It starts out almost clinical, looking to just take care of a symptom of an illness almost. Face flushed, lips curled into a deep frown, he sits at his desk, fisting his cock with precision, hoping to get it over with as fast as possible by hitting everything just right.

But no. After dealing with this for years you think he would have known by now that just once isn't enough, yet he still hopes year after year. It only gets worse. Over and over and over again until he's just sore and it hurts. Until he can't keep jerking it lest he make his own skin turn raw. By this point he usually finds himself in his bed, ears flat and face buried into some blankets to muffle the pathetic whimpers that left his lips as he kept grinding his hips into the pillows over and over and over and over, chasing even the slightest modicum of relief.

And most of the time, as annoying as it is, it was completely fine for him to just be stuck imagining some faceless, nameless mate beneath him as he struggled to sate these urges. However, if Tighnari has a bit of a crush… Well, he'd be in for a rude awakening if he hadn't already acknowledged his feelings for you.

I could see poor Tighnari getting almost ill as he realized the cute moans he was imagining sounded a little too much like your voice. Everything freezes for a moment, his stomach lurching both from the realization and the sudden loss of friction when he faltered. He tries so hard to brush it aside, chastising himself for pulling you into his filthy mind right then. But it doesn't stop. Your face, your voice, your skin. Everything. Everything stays in his mind and he cannot stop it. He feels such overwhelming shame about it, but… he does eventually give in and just let whatever fantasies take root, especially since it seems to ease the feelings when he does.

But when he sees you after the worst of it is over and he leaves his hut, guilt grips around his heart and memories of those fantasies rush into his head, leaving him turning on his heel to avoid you at all costs, honestly risking you thinking he hates you with how intensely he's ignoring you.

It's even worse because Tighnari considers hiding in his hut again for even longer as usually he was fine when the worst of it passed, he could resume his duties, but with you around, he could feel his hands shaking, the intense urge to find you wherever you were and pin you down immediately was so strong it scared him a little. Sometimes it caught him off guard too, like he would catch your scent on the breeze and while in his rut, he would genuinely get so horny so fast he's gotten lightheaded, having to catch himself on whatever was nearby so he didn't go crashing down.

If he hated his rut before, the shame of all this made him absolutely loathe it.

Maybe one day you can find a way to make it a liiiiittle more bearable for him ♡

[spookberry]

Shadow High series 3 my new beloved

I didnt even like most of em until i saw them in person, but the knowledge that they'll probably never be in the show has my brain in a "well its free realestate" kinda mood

Random list of information cuz ive been plotting out friend dynamics and background lore

-i like to pretend Rainbow High/Shadow High are actually Rainbow University/Shadow University cuz im in art college Right Now and i think it makes more sense with the whole dorm room situation. And also major makes more sense than focus IMO

-I changed Pinkie's major from film to just undeclared. I think she eventually does land on Film. She just has a lot of interests! Her dream has always been to one day direct films, and I think she comes to love them even more while developing ideas her with the group as she winds up in a Director/Producer position for most of them. BUT also every time she takes a class in a different program she cant help but fall in love with that way of making art too. So she has a hard time picking for a while and changed her major a couple times before landing on Film.

-Pinkie and Berrie bond a lot over a shared interest in vocal synths (tho Berrie knows more about them than her).

-The two made Pinkie's vtuber model together!

-the fandom wiki says PJ is from germany?? Idk how canon that is tbh but ive decided to embrace it i guess

-Rooney's canon name is Scarlet Rose, but i thought it was kinda lame especially when Rosie Redwood is also in this line sooo I renamed her! Stuck to the color name puns tho. Mar Rooney. Maroon. Haha

-Speaking on her though i love that shes from texas and likes writing scifi mystery type stuff and that being said i just Know deep in my bones that she was a Voltron Legendary Defender fan and Keith was/is 100% her favorite. She has a continued fondness for mothman specifically cuz of this.

-PJ and Rooney actually talk about fandom and shows/movies ALL the time. They dont have a ton of overlapping interests, but where they do? The two literally never shut up.

-Rosie is such a random character, like outside of her design she feels very poorly considered. So I scrapped the cosmetology thing and made her an illustrator instead! I think it works better with her love of making art in nature. I can see her being really into illustrated guide books. I think shes a bit snooty when it comes to art too. It takes being friends with other artists to become more open minded.

-I like the idea that Rosie is mainly friends with Rooney and Berrie ontop of that. The three of them often tag team storylines and how theyd interpret them into different mediums. Rosie will draw up a bunch of concept stuff while Rooney writes up a pitch bible and Berrie will start making shit move and throwing in her own ideas on camera angles and character designs.

-as an animation major Berrie was required to take a sound design class early on, which is where she met Oliver! Hes very laid back, and likes to go with the flow, but functions a little like the "mom" of the group. Often reminding the girls to take breaks, drink water, stop looking at their screens lest they get eye strain etc. He's multi-talented tbh but Music is his one true passion and he likes how the girls are always giving him collaboration opportunities.

-Oliver and Rosie like to talk sports a lot, both having played a bunch when they were younger and throughout high school.

-Lavender Lynn is Oliver's number one "person who needs constant reminders to settle down" she is in a constant buzz of trying to get the best shots and is utterly obsessed with the process of artistic documentation. Everything must be documented.

-the whole school loves her for this actually, she has a whole side gig where other students hire her to help photograph their projects. She saves everything she earns from this for her future dream plans to visit paris. She has it set really, many of the artists who she helps photograph now will remain steadfast clients of hers forever onward.

-PJ and Lynn actually took a print media class together at one point. Which didnt at the time spark an everlasting friendship. But it did give PJ an easier in to ask for Lynn's help documenting a project the group was working on. One of Lynn's first times photographing them work happened to fall on a day where Rosie had planned to trick everyone into going on a nature walk sans devices... Lynn wound up really appreciating this outing and decided to continue hanging around the group even after that project had ended.

[dnsleif]

itoshi rin x reader. hurt/comfort, valentines day in may 😵‍💫this was supposed to be way more silly but i got carried away. also didn’t really know how to end it lolol but rin is cute and a little dumb. this is so dramatic dhdbdbdn just read it as if its a shoujo romance manga tbh

it was almost like you could hear your heart shattering into little pieces and falling onto the cold, hard floor below you.

your heart was breaking because before you stood itoshi rin and some girl you’d only seen in passing. her cheeks were flushed as she held a box of chocolates in front of her. a big, red, heart-shaped box, embellished with a sparkly bow on top.

they were your favorite chocolates, how cruel.

you could see the way her hands shook a little, even from the distance you were watching from.

it wasn’t like you meant to watch. no, you thought you were quite unfortunate to have stumbled across this scene on your way out of school for the day.

but you continued to stare, despite your anguish at what could come. it felt as though your feet were glued to the ground, your eyes stuck onto rin’s figure, awaiting his response to what was obviously a confession.

the girl was pretty. you could tell even from the side view of her that you had currently. you couldn’t imagine how much prettier she looked to rin right now, face to face.

the scene before you seemed to be playing out in slow-motion. it felt like centuries since you had first laid eyes on that strikingly red box in front of the striker.

but, finally, someone seemed to have pressed play on the remote, for all your fears came true as itoshi rin took the box from the girl’s hand.

oh.

in all honesty, you hadn’t expected that. you knew rin, you were friends, best friends in your eyes. he had always said he rejects every chocolate he receives on valentines day (and it’s always a lot). he had always said he wasn’t interested in a lukewarm relationship with the people who confessed to him, as he never even knew who the majority of them were.

itoshi rin was not interested in relationships. it hurt, sure, but that fact also meant that you were safe from seeing him ever enter a relationship with anyone that wasn’t you. you were sure it would forever be an unrequited love, but he’s your best friend and there’s no one that will steal his heart, so that’s enough for you.

but why… why is that box of chocolates in his hands now?

you can’t hear the words he says and you don’t want to, lest they break your heart more. suddenly, the glue on your shoes dissolves and you can move again. move. away from this moment, away from the pieces of your heart beneath your feet, away from the itoshi rin who you could no longer keep to yourself.

your feet moved before your mind completely caught up. before you knew it, you were running. running to where? you didn’t think about that. rather you couldn’t think of anything besides rin’s hands holding those chocolates and the terribly pretty girl he took them from.

as you ran, and ran, and ran, you didn’t notice, you couldn’t notice—not in your current state—that your sudden movement had caused rin to become aware of your presence. all he saw was your sad face and your hair blowing in the wind before you were completely out of his sight.

you couldn’t see how rin didn’t spare one last glance at the confessing girl before he ran towards your back.

itoshi rin was now chasing you with a stupidly big and red box of chocolates in his hands.

he couldn’t get the look in your eyes out of his head. why did you look so sad? were you looking at him? did he cause that look in your eyes?

that last thought caused him to speed up.

rin was a soccer player, after all. when being chased by soccer prodigy, you can’t expect to win in speed. but he doesn’t expect you to be so fast. what was making you run away like this?

before he can muster up an answer to his own question, he reaches you. his hand is grabbing your wrist before you can run any farther.

you stopped. you’re panting. he expects you to look back at him but you don’t.

and of course you know. you know that it’s rin whose grip is on your wrist. you think you could sense his presence always.

but you can’t turn around. you can’t turn around or rin will see the tears staining your face and you’ll see that obnoxious red box in his hands. you can’t bring yourself to do it, but your feet are once again glued to the ground. maybe rin’s presence has the ability to do that to you.

before long he speaks up, “look at me.” ah, you swore that phrase and his voice, directed at you, made your heartbeat increase a tenfold.

and so you did, because who were you to deny him when he asks like that? your self-restraint and respect is really at zero when it comes to him.

you look at him and his eyes widen at the tracks of tears running down your face. he unconsciously steps closer, the hand that was previously on your wrist reaching out to your face, yet he abruptly pulls it away before it makes contact.

“what’s wrong?”

at his words, your eyes momentarily drift to the box of chocolates in his hands. rin is observant by nature, as the striker he is, and he doesn’t miss the fleeting glance you give to his hand.

his hand that is holding the box of chocolates that he forgot about in the chaos of running after you and seeing your tear-stained face.

but this realization is a welcome one to him as he extends the hand that’s holding the chocolates towards you. “for you,” he doesn’t give anything away from his voice and his eyes are boring into your own, although no outward expression is present.

“what?” it came out weak, far weaker than you’d like to be in front of rin but you suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. for one he’s seeing the complete mess you are right now and for two you no longer have any hope for a chance with him.

his words didn’t even really register in your head. all you saw were his eyes that looked to be in as much pain as you were. why is he sad? did you cause that look in his eyes?

“they’re your favorite,” his brows are furrowed now, he doesn’t know the right thing to say, or the right thing to do, not when you’re staring between him and the box of chocolates looking so incredibly hurt.

“rin, wh-“

he cuts you off, “that girl… i was going to let her keep these before i actually looked at them and realized they were your favorite kind,” he stopped for a moment to look at you. “i took the chocolates then said i didn’t return her feelings.” rin’s seemingly done with his explanation and he’s staring at you, awaiting your response.

and you laughed. laughed at the absurdity of it all and the completely serious look that rin has on his face, box of chocolates still outstretched towards you in his hands. “rin, don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

“no. they were for me either way?” he’s so nonchalant you can’t help but burst into another fit of giggles.

you’re laughing and realizing your chest doesn’t hurt anymore. you don’t feel the sharp shards of your broken heart stabbing your insides any longer, but instead a light fluttering in your stomach.

rin is so unintentionally funny, and cute, and not at all good with words but somehow everything he says leaves you like this.

you take the chocolates from his hands (finally). “so you took these from some poor girl who was confessing to you?” he nods. “for me?” he nods. “why?”

“because they’re your favorite.”

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

In Every Trio There's Always A Duo Pt. 2

John Price X F!Reader

Johnny and Simon had wanted to broach the subject of speaking with you and discussing the matter of everything that had happened, but you weren’t ready. You weren’t sure if you were ever going to be ready.

thank you to everyone who voted for this in the poll! I've been stuck in a rut for forever and needed something to help break that rut. as always feedback is highly appreciated!

warnings: mentions of past injuries, panic attacks, slight vulgar language, Price being protective

While you hadn’t been honorably discharged(which honestly sounded like a much better option at this rate)you were put on permanent desk duty. Learning to walk was a struggle that had taken over the course of a year for you to finally get comfortable with. John had been by your side every step of the way, cheering you on even when you were ready to quit. It had been a nice surprise, knowing he was so supportive. He’d taken a short leave once you had finished the intense physical therapy, wanting to make sure you would be alright. No one had known that you had moved in together, John kept everything quiet for your privacy.

Johnny and Simon had wanted to broach the subject of speaking with you and discussing the matter of everything that had happened, but you weren’t ready. You weren’t sure if you were ever going to be ready. You’d started seeing a therapist to get everything off your chest, had it truly been your own fault that you were unaware of how Johnny and Simon felt about you? Of course your therapist was adamant that no, you were not at fault for their actions. They were your comrades, and when it mattered most that everyone was kept safe, you had been caught in the crossfire.

The memories haunt your dreams daily, you would wake up covered in sweat thinking you were back in the enemies hands. John would always be there, calming you down until you realized you were safe, there was nothing there to attack you. Even if the wounds had healed, the constant reminder that you couldn’t even walk around without a cane. 

“Hey, you doing alright, sweetheart?” John was propped against the open door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, just trying to get through this mountain of paperwork so I can head to lunch.” You’d gotten so into your work you hadn’t realized how late it actually was.

“Darling, it’s dinner time.” John raised a brow, had you not gotten up to even get a glass of water?

“Oh, well shit.” You muttered under your breath, reaching over for your cane.

John kept his distance, he’d offer assistance if you asked but never wanted you to feel like you absolutely had to use his arm. It was nice to know he didn’t see you as an invalid, unable to do something as simple as walking. The only times he would ever refuse to let you walk is whenever you’d fallen asleep on the couch, carrying you up to your shared room.

“Got distracted again, didn’t you?” John smirked as you reached his side, he couldn’t fault you for it though, he’d done the same many times before.

“It was all those damn mission reports Laswell sent over. She wanted them done by lunch and I completely forgot.” You sighed, leaning against his chest and breathing in the soft scent of his cologne.

Any cologne, perfume, or body spray was strictly forbidden when on base, but John always managed to sneak some because he knew you loved it so much. No one dared to try and bring it up to John, lest they piss off their Captain and be put on latrine duty. Johnny had wanted to jokingly reprimand him, how wearing cologne wasn’t allowed but then he remembered. Until things had calmed down, he was going to keep his head down and wait.

John wasn’t a monster though, he worked well with his team and made sure that everyone made it back home with no injuries if he could. However, his thoughts were always filled with you, if you were eating, if you were having nightmares. God, he was absolutely smitten with you and everyone could see it.

“I’ll call her tomorrow, tell her not to send reports that are nearly overdue.” John wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own.

“I still need to do my job, don’t worry about me.” You patted his side, smiling into the fabric of his shirt.

“I always worry, gotta make sure my love is doing alright.” John pressed a kiss to your hair, rocking you both gently.

It was a nice feeling, being held so comfortably in his arms. You’d pictured your future together many times, curious if he felt the same way about things. It’d been just over two years since the incident, and things were going well. You had been living together for a little over a year, officially asking John to ditch his old flat and move into yours. It was only because you had the space, and not because of the stairs in his, totally not.

“I’ve been thinking…maybe it’s time for me to retire. And before you start freaking out and saying that I don’t need to, I want to.” You’d been debating it for a while, it would be easier to retire and find something else to occupy your time.

“As long as you’re sure, I don’t want you making any rash decisions because of what you believe my feelings would be.” John had been the one to fight to keep you on the task force, and while it was true you didn’t want to disappoint him, you hated doing paperwork.

“I’m sure. I’ll talk with Laswell about getting the paperwork ready.” It would be less stress on your end, which meant less walking and irritating your leg even more.

It would be a change for sure, but you couldn’t let everything from the past ruin what could turn into a bright future for you. ~~~~~~

It hadn’t been your idea to head out to lunch for the day, frankly you were more than ready to curl up on the couch and relax for the rest of the day. So, when John suddenly decided that the two of you should head out to get something to eat, you were suspicious. Now that isn’t to say that John couldn’t be spontaneous at times, but given everything that had happened? You were just a little bit wary of the situation. You’d thrown together a quick outfit, stealing one of his jackets since the air was beginning to chill.

“Well, well, look at this gorgeous lady.” John smirked as you walked over to him slowly. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes jokingly, pressing more of your weight against your cane.

“That’s only because a certain someone decided it was a great idea to head out and get lunch.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, smiling as his stubble grazed your skin.

“And it is, so let’s get going before all the good tables are gone.” John grabbed his wallet before helping you out to the car.

The good thing was that he didn’t hover. Whether it was during your rigorous physical therapy or your current journey, he gave you space when needed. There were times you wanted nothing more than for him to pick you up and just carry you everywhere, but that was overkill. Maybe he would offer to carry you over the threshold if you ever got married.

Marriage, a word neither of you had uttered after your relationship had become more serious, almost as if it were a dirty word. You knew after a few months that John was the only man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, and if that meant never getting married, you were happy. Marriage, a family, those were things that you’d once truly wanted, but after all the horrors you’d bore witness to? You couldn’t bring a child into this world knowing it would never be truly safe for them.

“I already checked the layout and they do have stairs, so if you need help just let me know.” John’s voice was gruff, low and gravelly as he pulled into the seemingly small parking lot.

“We can check them out first.” You liked being independent, not wanting to feel so helpless at times.

John parked the truck and slipped out before you had even managed to slip off your seatbelt, coming around to your side and opening the door with your cane in his right hand. You swung your legs out of the car, taking the cane from his hand and scooting to the edge of the seat slowly. Once your good leg was on the ground you slowly stepped down with your bag leg. Your arm braced with the cane as you stood up, fully supporting you nodded at John.

John waited until you had stepped away from the truck before shutting the door, the sun was shining brightly as you both turned to make your way to the restaurant. There were two people standing outside, talking with one another quietly enough that you couldn’t hear them. A soft gasp slipped through your lips as you realized exactly who it was.

“John!” You turned and slapped his upper arm, jaw dropped open as he laughed.

“Sorry, I wanted to surprise you, didn’t think they would still be outside.” John smiled and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Well, consider me very surprised right now.” You shook your head and sped up your movements, wanting to greet them sooner.

John bit his tongue harshly, he knew better than to chastise you when you were excited to greet old friends, but god dammit he hated it when you didn’t listen to him. Their loud cheers echoed across the area as they both embraced you.

“It’s been so long! What are you even doing here?” You smiled over at Farah, eyes twinkling in the bright sun.

“We got a call from a certain captain asking us to come visit, and we couldn't say no.” Farah smiled over at John as he reached your side, an arm wrapping around your waist.

“Really?” You turned to look over at him, grateful and thankful he’d called in this favor for you.

“Of course. I know you've been feeling down lately, and I wanted to help you feel better.” John’s eyes crinkled as he smiled widely, gesturing towards the restaurant.

Alex held the door open for the three of you to head inside, waiting patiently as you made your way up the steps. John stood behind you, waiting to assist in case you needed him to at any moment. Once you were inside and seated everyone seemed to let out a soft sigh of relief. You’d known about Alex’s leg, it was one of the reasons you’d gotten so close over the last year, even if you hadn’t lost your actual leg, he understood your pain and struggle.

“You know? You and John actually kind of look alike.” You glanced between Alex and John, taking in their features.

Of course Alex was younger than your boyfriend but if the both of them shaved? They could definitely pass as brothers. Then again there were the two full sleeve tattoos that Alex had on his arms. Okay, okay, maybe the actual biggest difference was their accents, but your statement still stood.

“Darling, that’s the first thing you’re going to talk about?” John raised a brow and chuckled, turning to take a sip of his water.

“Yes! I’ve been cooped up in that damn office all week, I felt like I was going to go crazy.” You smiled and laid a hand on his knee.

The food was delicious, more along the line of appetizers and finger foods rather than a meal if you were honest. The conversation flowed so smoothly, not so much as an awkward silence as you all cracked jokes or told stories of everything that had been going on. You were so unaware of the world around you except for the four of you at the table you hadn’t noticed John slip out of his chair. Alex’s eyes widened as he caught on, jaw dropping open slightly. Your brow furrowed as you followed his line of sight, a loud and shocked gasp slipping through your lips.

“Darling, I know we’ve only been officially dating for just over a year, but I’ve known since the day we met that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You’ve been through something that most people wouldn’t have been able to handle and you came out even stronger than before. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” John slipped open the small box, a gorgeous ring nestled inside the black velvet.

“Yes, a thousand times yes! I will absolutely marry you!” You wanted to throw yourself into his arms but thought better of it.

John smiled widely as he slipped the ring onto your finger, pulling your fingers to his lips to press a soft kiss to each one. The entire restaurant burst into applause, cheering loudly for you both. Alex and Farah snapped a few photos, the two of them smiling happily for you. While Alex had no clue at all that John was going to propose, Farah had helped him find the perfect ring. She may have stalked your social media, finding your pinterest to find what you loved most. John was shocked at how much effort and work she’d put in, but right now he was so grateful for it.

“I love you so much darling, more than you’ll ever know.” John pressed a soft kiss to your lips, keeping you close as you cried.

“I love you too.” You sniffled, reaching up to wipe away your tears.

John pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing kisses all over your face. You laughed and pushed him away, albeit very weakly. It was a reminder that sometimes good things did happen in life. It was in that moment that you suddenly realized something, you would be announcing your engagement eventually to the entire crew. Which meant both Simon and Johnny would find out as well. 

Should you have talked to them about everything that had happened? Sure. Except you didn’t want to, you wanted to avoid talking with them at all costs. It was mainly because you were still dealing with the issue with this leg. Maybe you could smooth things over, but at the end of the day you weren’t entirely sure.

The rest of lunch was eventful, Farah and Alex sending you the photos and videos they’d been able to take during the proposal. You couldn’t stop staring at the ring, a bright smile on your face as you thought about what your future entailed. You weren’t going to rush into planning, you wanted everything to be as stress free as it could be. 

“Don’t be strangers! We’ll send the invite when we set a date.” You hugged Farah close, smiling as she squeezed your waist tighter.

“We’ll do our best to be there, if we can’t I expect to see all the lovely pictures.” Farah would make sure to be there for you and John, even if she had to drop everything last minute.

“Of course, if you can’t make it I’ll make sure John sends them to you right away.” You patted her arm gently, taking your cane as John stepped over to you.

Saying goodbye to friends you didn’t get to see much never got any easier, it was understandable of course but it never hurt any less. John would do whatever he could to make the rest of the day special for you, even if that meant going home and running a bath. On second thought, a bath might soothe your aching muscles so you could actually help with dinner.

“John, what do you-” You were cut off by the sound of a voice, rather two, calling your name.

As you turned to address whomever was calling you, your heart seemed to stop in your chest.

“Simon…”

tagging: @gaylemonshark

[zealouswerewolfcollector]

Fingolfin and Fingon discuss trust, betrayal and the crown, T, 735 words

On Ao3

Fingon stared at the wood burning in the fireplace and did not speak. The fire died slowly. Dull red embers were taunting him. He turned away and met his father’s gaze. He wondered if Fingolfin was thinking about the same thing he was. Red embers on the horizon like specks of blood, making a mockery of brotherhood and friendship.

“Do you trust him?” Fingolfin asked.

Fingon lips were stuck together as if dried by the cruel sea wind.

“Makalaurë says he did not burn the ships because he wanted to return for us,” he said finally.

“Makalaurë will say anything his brother tells him to.”

“Such a lie would be easy to uncover.”

“I suppose.”

“I cannot find any sinister motive in his decision to waive his claim to the crown,” Fingon said. “His brothers’ reaction surely proves his sincerity. I do not believe he is capable of plotting just yet.”

“A Fëanárion plot against our house is not what worries me.”

The embers had died down. The windows were shut, but Fingon could still feel the wind sawing through him. Standing on the shore as the blood specks on the horizon faded, leaving ashen silence behind, he had felt emptied of everything, a shell that had once housed a person.

“What then?” he asked quietly.

Fingolfin looked into his eyes.

“You were with me when the Sindar told us of the thralls that came back—”

“He did not come back. I brought him back. I freed him. He was not set free. He would stay there forever if the Enemy had his way.”

“We cannot know all the tricks of the Enemy.”

Fingon had rebuffed every attempt at conversation after the ships burned. Back then, he still could afford it. Or he had thought he could. Now he knew he could not turn away.

“Manwë’s eagle came for us,” he said. “Is that not a proof?”

“It might be.” Fingolfin sat by his son and squeezed the hand that was gripping the armrest tightly enough to crack it. “Do you trust him?” he asked.

“What would Moringotto gain by putting you on the throne? If Maitimo is in thrall to him as you suspect, it would make more sense for the Enemy to have Maitimo claim the crown and divide us further.”

“It would make more sense for him to Sing in harmony with the other Valar and take joy in Arda. But that is not what he did, is it?” Fingolfin waited until his son looked at him. “I am merely suggesting that we need to be prepared for every possibility.”

“Make sure to avoid suggesting it in front of his brothers lest we risk another bloodshed.”

“One would think they would be eager to jump at the opportunity to declare him unfit to make such decisions.”

Perhaps it was Fingon’s brisk tone that had angered his father enough to make such an unkind statement. 

“No matter what, they will not price the crown higher than their own brother,” Fingon said.

He did not mean it as a barb against his father, but Fingolfin’s eye still twitched. 

“They will let love blind them then,” he said in a deliberately even voice. “Will you?”

Fingon wrenched his hand away and strode to the door.

“Do you trust him?” Fingolfin asked.

Fingon stopped with his hand at the handle.

“I trust he will not want to live as the Enemy’s weapon,” he said without turning to look at his father. “So I will not allow it to happen. I am a kinslayer already. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, Findekáno.” Pain colored Fingolfin’s voice and made his hand that gripped his son’s shoulder tremble. “I will not let the responsibility fall to you. You have already shouldered burdens greater than you should have to.”

“It has to be me. He would want me to.”

“I care not.”

“If what you fear comes true,” Fingon said, turning to look at Fingolfin, “and anyone else raises a blade against Maitimo, I will not ever forgive them. Not even you, Father.”

Fingolfin inclined his head. It was not acquiescence but simply a decision to delay the discussion. For now, it was enough for Fingon. 

When Fingolfin looked away, Fingon slipped the dagger he had placed on the table back into his sleeve. He said his goodbyes to his father and went to sit by Maedhros’s bedside. 

[hannahssimblr]

“Smile! No- okay, a real smile if you can. Would you show us some teeth? Ah! That’s a snarl… why don’t you think of something that makes you happy, or just say cheese. Okay? ‘Cheese’? Jude. C’mon.”

I smile for one second just as the camera bulb flashes, blinding me temporarily, and let it fall right off my face. “That okay?”

The photographer checks the screen and tuts, “Well, it’ll do. Onto the next, please!” I slide off the stool and let the next person in line take it as Sam from the yearbook committee beckons me over to him. 

“Jude, I’m just looking at your form here. For the yearbook? It looks like you must have forgotten to fill some of it out.”

I peer at it.

“No, that was on purpose.”

“Right, well your section of the book is going to be fairly empty if we submit it like this, and most of the stuff that you’ve written is pretty much unusable.”

“Which parts?”

“So here, under ‘best memories’ you have, ahem, ‘smashing Fitzy’s nose at that match that time.’”

“Yeah. You notice it’s still fucked up a bit even after the surgery?”

“You actually can’t say that. The principal wants me to cut it out because it’s inappropriate, so you’ll have to think of something else.”

“Another good memory?”

“Yeah, just one.”

“You’ll have to let me stew on that.”

“Right. And here, for ‘where will you be in ten years?’ you’ve said ‘possibly dead.’” He’s got a troubled look in his eyes, “Kind of morbid, isn’t it?”

I shrug, “Well it is possible, isn’t it?”

“Well I suppose, but, like, most people have said something like ‘running my own bakery!’ or ‘married with kids!’”

I scoff, “Alright well I won’t be married.” 

“Have you not got a pretty solid thing going with Michelle Tengu?”

A bit presumptuous. I repeat myself, “I won’t be married.” 

Sam scratches the back of his head and lets out this world weary sigh. Whatever about me, but in ten years Sam will probably be doing exactly as he’s doing now, stuck behind some desk, sighing over forms, checking his watch slyly and yearning for lunchtime so that he can finally lay into the limp salad with vinaigrette dressing on the side that he’s stashed in the office fridge, a label on the Tupperware lid lest anyone be tempted.

 “Okay well the rest of it, the ‘favourite subject’ section is empty, so is ‘words of advice’, ‘nickname’, and your quote.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“So you’re going to leave those sections blank?”

“Is that… okay with you?” 

“Is it okay with you? You’ll have this yearbook forever, you know, and what if when you’re older you want to look back at it and remember what you were like in sixth year and you’re disappointed in yourself that you never made an effort to fill out the form?”

“Okay, and what if I’m dead by then?”

Sam sighs again and stuffs the form back into the pile on the desk, “Fine, Be like that. I don’t care.”

“Well to be honest, it feels like you do.”

“No, you can do what you want.”

“Well… good.”

“Good!”

I shrug and slope towards the gymnasium doors where Alison is standing, smirking. 

“Were you just getting told off by Sam?”

“Yeah he’s on a yearbook committee power trip, he’s mad because I don’t want to fill in the form.”

“Well wait until the debs committee come after you.”

We push through to the hallway and make our way towards our lockers, “The debs committee? What do they want from me?”

“Money for tickets, apparently. It's been due for weeks.”

“Well I don’t want tickets, so they can piss off.”

“You’re not going?”

“No, obviously not.” I pull a frown to match hers, “why would I be going to the debs?”

“Because it’s the debs.”

“Good reason.”

“Like I just assumed, what with you having a girlfriend now, surely you’d like to go and get dressed up and do the whole thing. It’s, like, tradition.”

“I’m surprised you’re so into the idea. I didn’t think you’d be the kind of person who’d be up for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well it’s cringey, isn’t it? Getting dressed up in a little suit and standing around on someone’s front lawn drinking from champagne flutes that only get dragged out for special occasions. The whole tradition is stupid, with that flower thing you put on the girl's wrist and all,” I shudder with embarrassment, “Wouldn’t you just feel like you’re play-acting as a sophisticated adult to some extent?”

She smirks, “You don’t think I’m sophisticated?”

“I don't know.”

“And you don’t think I’d like to have a cute little corsage on my wrist?”

“Would you?”

“No, I think they’re weird, but I’d still like an excuse to wear a dress and do my hair up. We’ll get a free shot of sambuca too.”

“Well, mine is yours.”

As Alison unlocks her locker I fling mine open to dump my books in. I haven’t had a lock in years. What would anyone want to steal from me anyway? All I have is textbooks with the covers ripped off and notebooks with their whole lower third damaged and bleeding ink from the time a water bottle opened inside my school bag.

“Is Michelle against the whole thing too?”

“I assume so.”

“You assume?”

“Yeah, I can’t see her being jazzed about it. It’s not really her thing.”

“You didn’t ask?”

I move on swiftly, “Who are you going with?”

Alison smiles, “I’m going to two debs, actually. My own, obviously, and the boys school one. I got asked last week.”

“By who?”

“The guy I’m going out with.” 

I poke my head around the open door of my locker, “Alison, do you have a boyfriend?”

She wiggles her shoulders with delight, “Yes. At least I think so, we haven’t, like, had the conversation officially but I think it’s safe to say we’re together together now.”

“That’s great! What’s his name?”

“Aaron.”

“Uh huh, and what’s he like? He up to it?”

The bell suddenly sounds for the end of break and we sigh as the hallways fill with frantic footfall, clanging lockers and swooshing doors. Alison slings her school bag over one shoulder. “We can catch up about this later, maybe. Do you want to meet me after school for a walk or something?”

I hesitate, and she starts babbling, “Or, um, wherever, like, I know-”

“Yeah it’s just-”

“If you’re busy-”

“We’re not really supposed to be friends, are we?” I blurt out, and her face looks stricken. Her hand on the strap of her bag clenches, white over the plastic buckle, “Right.”

“It’s just, like, with me having a girlfriend and stuff… She’s not really a fan of me hanging around people that I used to… like-”

“Hm. So I suppose you having less time for me this year wasn’t really by accident, then.”

I don’t know what to say. Someone bumps their bag against my elbow as they push past us and I stagger closer to her while she takes a decisive step back, maintaining our new distance.

“It’s just with Michelle and everything. You know how it is.”

“How insecure is that girl anyway? You and I haven’t done anything in over a year. Since way before you got together.”

“She just doesn’t like the idea.”

“Of me?” She scans my face for some semblance of meaning to all of this, her blue eyes big and wounded. “Okay well, suit yourself then, but this is just...” She can't muster the words for exactly this is, instead she pulls a disgusted face at me that might as well have been a boot to the crotch.

“Come on, Alison, no matter what I do I’m going to end up upsetting someone…”

“No, I get it, it's better it’s me.” She plasters a big smile on her face and whirls around, and I watch her, black patent shoes clacking against the linoleum, hair swishing, arms swinging, and she’s gone. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[huramuna]

selkie's song - chapter 3.

night's watch aemond x wildling shapeshifter ofc work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.

this is wholly inspired by lonelymagpies depiction of Night's Watch Aemond. please go check out their beautiful work here!

more worldbuilding and a deeper delve into aemond and euna's ever changing dynamic + a battle! i'm terrible at writing combat so i hope it isn't too egregious. one of the songs of this chapter is "skinwalker" by robbie robertson. i used to listen to this to fall asleep as a kid, hehe.

previous | next chapter

word count: 3.7k

content: smut (eventually, specifics will be under the cut of chapters with it), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, ofc is a menace to Aemond and he kind of likes it, graphic depictions of violence (this chapter)

(you're the) devil in disguise - elvis presley • skinwalker - robbie robertson

A swim always did well to clear her mind, her fur slicked back against her skin. Her nostrils were plugged close, taut against her muzzle as she bobbed and weaved through the kelp forest. 

Breaching for air, the moon began to rise above the horizon, shifting the tides as it did every day. She needed to shake the exhaustion of the day by running herself even more ragged, testing her limits and gliding through the water like a falling star, the water swirling and flowing past her streamlined body. 

Euna tried to delve deeper into the animalistic part of her brain– the part always there, scratching and screaming to be let free for every moment she was in her human skin. The sea called to her even when she was only feet away from it, even when she was miles inland where she couldn’t smell the salt any longer. A skinchanger always teetered the line between animal and human, an unskilled skinchanger could be stuck in their animal skin forever. Euna had been warned about this so many times by her father, but she didn’t see the harm in it. She wouldn’t totally mind being a seal forever, eating fish and swimming the expanse of the sea.

Her mind wandered back to the purple-eyed crow. She quite liked his scent, it was warm and heady, musky. It reminded her of sitting close to the fire and mayhaps singing the skin of her fish a bit too much under the flame, but it was still delicious and comforting nonetheless. Euna had met other crows before– some of them even lived at her tribe– but none of them were like him. Aemond. He even had a peculiar name. Ae-mond. She spoke it under water, bubbles whizzing out of her mouth and traveling to the surface.

His scent was warm and comforting, but his eye told a different story. His scar paired with his sapphire eye was unusual to her and she wondered how he lost it. When they had stared each other down earlier in the day, she could see shadows dancing past his iris, his pupil dilating in turn as he observed her, as if he was measuring her worth. Euna had stared into countless eyes, living and dead, but none entranced her so like his, reminiscent of a beautiful lavender flower that she liked to put in her tea or braid into her hair during the warmer months. Just past his pupil, the very edge of pain could be seen and she wondered if he saw ghosts dance just beyond his vision, taunting and haunting him just as she did. Could he remember their faces or were they just smudged, out of focus and just out of sight like her family was? 

She still thought of them– her family, even if she couldn’t exactly remember. When they lingered in her peripheral and she would whip around to see them, they would disappear, dawdling just behind her. Over the years, she had come adept at shutting them out. Her papa told her she was sensitive to the afterlife just like their shamans were, but her power was untrained and rampant. She could quiet and dim the specters by swimming and overwhelming her other senses. She never saw them underwater and was ever grateful to the Gods that she could skinchange and escape them. But, every so often, Euna would smell something on the wind, something long locked away that would spring them back to life, their voices whispering to her– those would be times she would sleep in the kelp forest, hugged against stalks of algae, curled into herself and forgetting everything, turning off the human part of her mind and just living as she felt the Gods truly intended her to be.

Bobbing to the surface and taking in another gulp of air, she saw movement on the hilltop near the crest of the camp, overlooking the entirety of the valley. She smelled the air, expecting to inhale the familiar scent of her own tribe– a mixture of sea air and musk– but a pungent smell filled her nostrils. It smelled of burned bones and pervasive cracked pepper, mingled with stinging pine nettle. This wasn’t of her tribe, someone else was on the hill, observing. She blinked her eyes profusely, grumbling at the way her seal eyes couldn’t focus well outside water, everything above the surface. Even with her poor eyesight in this form, she could see multiple figures.

Diving back down, she plunged towards home, towards the sea door. It was a cave connected to her and papa’s house which led directly to the sea. It was built by Atohi for Euna to constantly have a way to dip in and out of the water with ease. She bursted out of the opening that filtered to the sea in the cave, drenched with water. It pooled at her feet and squished against the rocky ground as she flung open the sea door.

Aemond and Atohi were sitting around the fire, turning towards her direction as she all but barreled into the home.

“Euna? You look spooked– you see a whale?”

“No, papa,” she murmured, pushing away some of the wet hair sticking to her forehead, “Saw people. Smelled them. Those Haunted Forest fuckers are here– they must’ve followed,” she took a breath, her hands shaking slightly. Usually after a swim, she needed to eat profusely to regenerate all the energy burned– but there wasn’t time for that. Looking to Aemond, who’s cheek was puffed, fish cake in hand, “Can I trust you, crow?”

He swallowed the piece of cake, putting the half-eaten food down. “Unsure. Can I trust you?”

Euna groaned, pacing towards him. The sea water dripped from her body onto his leather clothes. “I don’t know– probably! That whole… killing you business, I didn’t mean it– just wanted to…” she growled, taking the Catspaw dagger still stashed at her hip, offering it to him, hilt first. Her hand was quivering against the handle, “I trust you. I probably shouldn’t– but I don’t have time to whine and moan about it. Please,” her voice was a hushed whisper, her mismatched eyes wide, her pupils trembling slits. “Help us.”

Aemond regarded her carefully, looking to the offered blade, then back to her. In his eye, she must’ve looked quite pathetic. She was soaked from head to toe, hair plaited to her face, her coat sticking to her like a second skin, eyes wild. Cautiously, he lifted his gloved hand and took the blade from her. “Very well. I’ll offer my assistance– only because your father has been courteous to me and given me the best meal I’ve had in moons. You are still a hellion.”

Euna let out a puff, nodding slowly. She turned to her father, “Papa–”

“I got it under control, Euna,” he responded gruffly, his hand going to his cane and twisting the bottom half from the top, revealing a sharpened dragonglass core. He laid it across his lap, crossing his arms over his chest. “I ain’t helpless yet.”

Aemond had a glint of amusement in his eye at the old man’s resilience, offering a hand to Atohi. “Thank you for the meal.”

“You’ll be back for another, son. Go kill some of those fuckers n’ I’ll make you up some of that fried venison we talked about.”

“You told him about fried venison– with gravy and rice? That’s my favorite!” Euna whined, then snapped back, “Not the time– let’s go, Aemond. You know how to wield a blade?” she asked as they stepped out of the abode, propping a stone against the corner of it.

Aemond gave her an unamused look. “Of course I do– I trained with the finest of knights in the Red Keep. My mentor is… was Ser Criston Cole,” he twirled the dagger in his hand, furrowing his brow, “... those words mean nothing to you. In short, yes, I can wield a blade. Mayhaps better than… what, those ‘Haunted Forest fuckers’?” 

“Mmm, always encroaching. If you don’t know ‘bout us free folk, most are warmongering, always wanting what others have. We down here at the coast are pretty happy with what we’ve got– don’t want more than we need. All tribes aren’t the same, and many of ‘em are happy to kill and pillage and take and take and take…” her voice trailed off as she unsheathed her dragonglass dagger. Nodding her head to Aemond, they pressed down close to the cliff wall, making their way up to the hilltop overlook. “... not sure how many, be prepared, watch my back,” she whispered, “... please.”

Aemond gave her a stiff nod in return, wishing he had more than just the dagger to defend them– but he made do. Not only that, he had a small wish to show up the tiny wildling woman and show her that it was a fluke that she caught him in the first place. If she was only wielding a dagger, then so was he. 

Finally reaching the crest of the hill, Euna saw five figures ahead, their torches snuffed into coals. They were about four feet away, the closest one crouched with his back turned. She slunk over the incline and lunged at the closest one, sinking her dagger into the base of his neck. 

Aemond watched with a wide eye as she went feral, the tip of her weapon poking out of the front of the intruder’s throat– he made a sickly gurgling noise, falling to the ground before he could even grab his weapon. One of his companions looked over, hastily sparking flint to try and light their torches once more, but was met with a swift end by Aemond’s Valyrian steel, sliced vertically up his throat. 

One of them managed to light a torch, whooping and hollering– there were more than five, at least four more filtering out from the sparse forest twenty feet away. Aemond reached down to the bleeding out wildling, grabbing the glinting steel at his waist. It was castle-forged steel, a shortsword no doubt pilfered from a crow– no, fucking Night’s Watchman, why did he think to call them crows?

Twirling the blade, he stowed the small dagger at his waist and steadied his form, his right leg behind him as one of the other wildlings came towards him. Their weapons clashed, steel against bone spear. The sheer strength of the man caught Aemond off guard slightly and it’d definitely been some time since he actually properly fought. Staggered, he whipped backward and parried the next attack, sending the pommel of his shortsword into the man’s nose, hearing the bone and cartilage crunch. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, his blood felt like it was on fire. He split the man down the middle, kicking him back to dislodge his weapon. He felt fucking good, he hadn’t felt like this since… since… 

His mind flashed back to Storm’s End and he lost his train of thought, not prepared for the next opponent to barrel at him, broad-axe raised high. Aemond held up the length of his sword horizontally to parry or stagger– it did more damage to himself than his attacker, his weapon skidding off to the side. Everything felt in slow motion as he reached for the Catspaw dagger once more, only having seconds to spare before the axe cleaved him in two–

A flash went past him. It was white, furry and huge. The light of the fallen enemies revealed one of the largest wolves he’s ever seen– no, the largest wolf. It was a fucking direwolf. He’d only read about them in the stories, how Northerners kept them as pets until they went extinct. He watched the direwolf tear into the man’s neck, ripping sinew from bone until his screams died down. Then, it turned towards Aemond, padding slowly to him. Was he really about to get mauled by a wolf? 

It sniffed him, a glint of recognition coming over its gaze. Aemond still had the dagger raised in a defensive position when he heard Euna yelling to him. His head swiveled to her– she was grappling the back of a wildling almost two times her size, drenched in blood and dirt.

“Ours, Aemond– wolf’s ours, n’ any other animals!” she shouted before sinking her teeth into the man’s shoulder, beating on his head with her fists.

Ours. Ours? What in the Seven hells did that even mean– 

The wolf stood on its hind legs, taking the shape of a woman. She was older, hair peppered with white. She offered a hand to Aemond, “Smelled Atohi’s fishcakes on you– knew I didn’t have to rip your throat out too, eh?” she was wearing the pelt of a wolf, no, the wolf that she just was.

Cautiously, he took her hand, his eye wide.

“Euna ain’t told ya? Shit– it’ll be real clear in a minute, crow,” she gave a laugh, howling and wild, reminiscent of a wolf. “Arms up, more are comin’.”

Aemond watched as more men filtered out from the forest– but for every man that came out of the forest, at least two animals descended on them. His heart was thrumming in his chest, blood screaming in his ears. He watched two bears cleave down four men at once, a bison gore a man from the abdomen up, an eagle swooping from the sky and gouging out the eyes of an enemy, a mountain lion descending from a tree onto the back of some poor fucker.

His head was swimming– he must be going mad, surely. That must be it, he must be in some sort of bad dream and he would wake up at Castle Black again and be served shit slop for breakfast. His vision became fuzzy as the battle came to a close– their side was victorious. 

“Aemond?” Euna called out to him, her voice sounding far away, “C’mon.” she interlooped her arm with his and pulled him up. “Ayita, will you tell papa everything’s alright? Crow’s moon-eyed, gonna get us cleaned up.”

“Sure thing, Euna.” the wolf woman from earlier nodded before shifting back into her wolf skin, dragging a lifeless corpse by the arm like a ragdoll.

Euna lead him up the cliffside to a rocky outcrop against a higher palisade, where there was a cave opening. Inside, it was lit up by some bioluminescent mushrooms, leading to a pool of water in the back. It was warm inside of the cave, like it had been at Euna and Atohi’s house– except there was no fire. Glancing at the pool, Aemond saw the steam rising from it. It was a hot spring of sorts, somewhat like the ones that supposedly were under Winterfell. 

She placed him down against the cool stone wall. “... so,” she hummed, placing her hands behind her back, “... what do you think?”

He ran a hand through his hair, sitting against the wall with one leg out and one propped up, his knee bouncing. “‘What do I think?’ About what, exactly? That your tribe is full of skinchangers? That skinchangers are real?” 

She shrugged her shoulders innocently. “Something like that.”

“... well. It is certainly a shock seeing a wolf turn into a woman and back again like its nothing– but… considering my family’s unique traits, it isn’t much of a stretch.”

“Unique traits?”

“We’re dragon riders. We have the blood of the dragon running through our veins and can bond with a dragon.”

“Dragon… riders,” Euna repeated, almost a little dumbfounded, “That’s weird.”

Aemond scoffed. “Your people turn into animals! That isn’t weird?”

“Nope.”

“Gods– okay, so do you turn into an animal, too? I didn’t see you tearing someone limb from limb as a… weasel.”

“Yes, I do. I’m not a fucking weasel,” she growled, crossing her arms over her chest, “You can quickly learn who in the tribe turns and what they turn into,” slowly, she peeled her cloak from her body– she was absolutely stained in blood– and showed it to him, exemplifying the webbed feet and small snout, “by the cloak they wear.”

Aemond stared at her for a long moment. Then, he burst into a fit of laughter– genuine, heartfelt laughter. His raucous chorting ricocheted off of the walls of the cave, booming around them. A tear formed at his eye. “Is that a… seal? A fucking seal– so, what do you do? Throw fish at your enemy? Splash water at them? Gods, that’s the most hilarious thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

Euna glared at him, placing her cloak aside gently, making sure it was safe before she descended upon him, pounding her fists against his chest, growling and screeching. “Don’t be rude! I’ll fucking scratch your other eye out too, Aemond!” she hissed, her face contorted into a rage, her teeth bared and gnashing near his face.

He was still laughing, finding her rage amusing. He let her pound her fists on his chest until she exhausted herself. He grabbed both of her wrists and stilled them, earning him an agitated growl from her. “Calm down, pipsqueak. It ‘twas only a jest. I’m sure that… seals even have their uses amongst direwolves and cave bears, hm? Like bringing back tasty fish for your father to cook up– like a dog.”

Euna slammed her forehead against his, dazing them both for a moment. “Maybe I will kill you– you’re fucking rude, Aemond!”

“No, I don’t think you will.”

“Let go and I’ll show you.”

“Hmm. No.”

“Aemond.”

“No.”

Their faces were inches apart and Euna was snapping her teeth at him like some kind of rabid animal– she would be better suited as a snapping turtle than a seal, mayhaps. Aemond encapsulated both of her wrists in one of his hands, his other one coming under her chin to still her head, staring at her. 

Her face was splattered with blood and dirt, her mismatched eyes staring daggers at him. Her chest heaved up and down from the exertion of her fit, the tension in her body relaxing as her breaths evened out. She sniffled slightly, pouting out her bottom lip. “I won’t kill you. Papa would be cross. He likes you.”

Aemond perked a brow. “He’s known me all for about four hours.”

“He is a good judge of character, I guess– I still don’t like you. But you can live.”

“Oh, I can? How gracious of you, little seal.”

“Don’t call me that. I will bite you.” 

“Hm,” he hummed, letting go of her chin, but not before giving it a little tug and rasping his thumb over her bottom lip. “So how does it work? The… skinchanging?”

“It’s inherited– the pelts,” she explained after giving a little bite to his thumb before shoving off of him, pulling the leather cord from her braid and undoing it, her fingers parting her locks, “Passed down from generations, leading all the way from the children of the forest, who gifted a pelt of each animal to our ancestors.” she thumbed the drawstring to her shirt, undoing it and promptly taking it off, tossing it aside, leaving her bare chested.

Aemond’s eye widened, the tips of his ears warming before he looked away. “Fucking hell– have you no shame?”

Euna looked at him, puzzled. “... shame? About what? Baring my body without clothes?” she snorted, kicking off her trousers and throwing them at Aemond– they landed with a wet slap on his chest. “You kneelers are something else. A naked body won’t kill you, Aemond. Come on,” she dipped her toes in the warm pool before slipping in. She hung at the edge, elbows over the side, “You’re dirty and you smell like shit. Wash.”

He didn’t move. 

“I won’t stare at your cock if that’s what you’re worried about, don’t matter if it's small or nothin’.” she giggled. 

“You’re a fucking menace, you know that?” he growled, giving in to her goading— mostly because he was covered in blood and dirt and probably did smell like shit. He stripped out of his Night’s Watch garb, the cool air from the outside of the cave wafting in and chilling his skin. He was bare before her, and she kept her gaze above his abdomen, thankfully. As far as he saw anyway, she snuck a few glimpses between his legs out of sheer curiosity. 

He sunk into the water, feeling the warmth wash over him. It was cleansing and calming, the heat permeating through his skin and bones to his very core. Aemond let out a drawn out sigh, as if some great weight had been lifted. His thumb hooked under his eyepatch and he tossed it towards where she had her coat. His head thrummed slightly, the weight of the sapphire pressing against his skull. Throwing all proprietary to the wind, he pried the gem from his socket, rolling it in his palm for a moment before setting it aside. 

Euna watched him carefully, most of her body submerged in the water. Her nose and eyes were the only things above the surface, her hair floating out around her in flowing tendrils. 

They locked eyes for a moment and the world fell silent as she slowly waded towards him, her gaze wide. 

He looked back down at her, feeling an odd stirring of something within him— the same thing he felt when he first saw her. His hand floated towards her, pushing her head above the water, his thumb grazing over her bottom lip again. 

She bit it again, but not hard this time. It was soft, the pad of his thumb pressing onto the tip of her tongue as they came closer together. He smeared the wetness onto her lip before their breaths both hitched at the same time, lips melding together. They both didn’t know what sparked it, mayhaps the heat of battle, their blood cooling, but neither of them questioned it as their mouths moved against one another, the heat rising in both of them, the sound of the water swirling and the wet smacks of their lips and tongues dancing echoed in the cave.

Little did they know, lost in their sudden passions— they were being watched.

taglist: @heavenly1927

[my-hyperfixation-hell]

William pretending to have been born a noble strikes such a chord with me tbh, especially after rewatching part 1 episode 4, the grapefuit case.

The scene where the woman whose child died is glaring at him, and William finds out it's because she hates nobility for the things that they do to the poor. And this is far from the only example of something like this happening to William. It's not always inherently negative or hateful, but even when simply talking to lower class people, they're often taken aback and shocked that William is kind with them, concerned about them, talking to them.

William grew up his formative years an orphan, and only got out of it by the sheer luck of being in the right place at the right time to meet Albert, and for Albert's biological father to want to adopt an orphan.

That puts William in an interesting spot.

He understands what it's like to be poor and starving, but he can never admit to it, lest he give away that he's not the original William James Moriarty.

So, he's never really a part of the lower class ever again. And this certainly comes with a shit ton of wealth and privilege- enough to murder on the reg and get away with it- but then there's the nobility.

For the most part, he completely despises the people around him. Some, like Albert, managed to become exceptions, and now Albert is a beloved brother to him. Most, fall flat. At best they are arrogant and rude, regularly talking down about the same class William himself was once a part of, while William has to smile and nod along. At worst, they are murderers, and he will do away with them.

I think that's in part why Sherlock stood out to him so much. Of course his intelligence played a huge part in that as well, but it's established that Mycroft imitates an upperclass accent in order to assimilate, whereas Sherlock keeps his Cockney accent.

Sherlock is also flippant and refuses social standards as he deems fit, down to the way he dresses, leaving out the tie and unbuttoning most of his jacket. He's pretty blunt (although he can also keep a secret), and doesn't rein in his emotions unless the situation really calls for it, whether that's his sheer delight to see William on the train or his irritation. He can control himself, as per the scene from the manga where Milverton is in his apartment for negotiations, but why should he unless it's important?

I think to William, Sherlock was someone else wedged firmly between the class divides, and I also think Sherlock had a sense of freedom that William envied.

William felt forever stuck playing a part, whereas Sherlock was unabashedly himself 24/7.

[laidback-thrills]

EDIT: THIS IS SLIGHTLY OUTDATED. More coming soon.

Hello all!

I've been meaning to talk more in depth about this!!! I put a "read more" bc this is a little long and I don't wanna clog up the tag.

BUT

DSAF CULT AU!!!

My DSAF Cult AU is very canon divergent.

Dave Miller is a fledgeling demon who was once a young nephilim. He remembers very little about his past, but something horrible has made him what he is now.

He has a full, actual Enochian name, but people tend to throw up and shit and die when they hear it, so he chose to go by "Dave" because "It's common! I'm a normal, common guy!", but also because he trusted and loved someone like a father.

His demonic sigil and general telltale symbol is the extremely long sacrificial dagger driven into his skull. No matter what form he takes, he will have it. It can be taken out for a short period of time before Dave begins to have trouble staying corporeal.

Now literally borne with a total inability to feel remorse for his actions, he is a sick and twisted monster that does not know how to control his own extremely horrifying powers. He requires a conduit to channel them, lest he explode.

He was all alone in the world. A freak, even when "disguised" as a human. (He's purple for fuck's sake, he smells like rot and he's scaring people!). Connection eluded him, although it was all he ever wanted, even as a horrifyingly malicious entity. It's very much a similar situation to regular DSAF - he was "abandoned", and now forever seeks

Until some idiot.

Jack Kennedy was a desperate man with a missing family and no future. He was addicted to every kind of substance, heavily in debt, and crushingly isolated.

After uncovering some interesting literature from his shitty Fazbender's Pepperonerie job, he decided that he was desperate enough to follow the instructions in the grimoire. Nothing to lose anymore, and a big goal to achieve. A skeptic as he was, he did not expect the ritual to work, but when it did, it completely changed his world.

Jack did not immediately make a contract with Dave, out of pure shock and wariness, but the fucker stuck around anyway. He was offered a deal and spent a while debating it.

Eventually, it went through.

Jack was granted a demonic boon. Power, money, pleasures of the world, and a chance to put them back together. In return, he traded his body and soul for Dave's services.

The process was painful.

An agonizing death, and a transformation. Dave's sigil burned into his back, and all at once, he was rotten and orange.

Then, the demon ate his soul.

Dave benefits greatly from the exchange too (baby's first contract). He gets a lot of power from it. It keeps him anchored. Gives him something to do. Someone interesting to play with. Company at last, and it's someone that can't run away from him!

Jack is Dave's saint. They are intrinsically bound. Jack is the first person to ever form a contract with Dave— Blackjack is caged inside of Dave, alive and warm, providing him with abilities and power he didn't have before. The Black Dog is loyal to its original master, however, and attempts to return to him. As a result, the soul more or less keeps them tethered. They physically cannot stray too far from eachother.

Post-contract, now armed with the knowledge that more souls = more power, and wanting to actually put a use to their power, they get to work!

With supernatural persuasion and a great gambling streak, Jack gets his start in Nevada. There, they build their empire off of the backs of desperate gamblers who put their soul on the line. Hungry, lonely men, hookers, the desperate and the naïve...all are errant souls that Father Jack will lead right on home.

Dave requires fresh blood for any spell, but demands child sacrifices to perform large spells, but that is quite alright. With the influx of followers, children are not too hard to come by. The death of a toddler, and an unholy miracle is performed— Jack's precious little flock has a home, a commune tucked into the desert.

(It isn't DSAF without a little toddler stranglin'!)

Jack and Dave- they get them good. Victims, converts- they're promised security, "God is dead, but we've got the power to help you!" Father Jack's a friendly and convincing fella, it seems, and after all...his Gospel is very legitimate- why have just faith when you can see your new God? When that doesn't work, there's always fear. Don't believe his word? Why, they'll show you horrors of which you've never seen! Father Kennedy's fun loving, but he's a soulless bastard, and he's not shy about putting the fear of all things unholy into his flock.

Of course, once the sinners are deep enough, it's too late to escape. Father Kennedy has some dirt on them. This lovely community is built on violence, after all, and Father knows exactly what they did to get here, and exactly what they've said at confessional. That, and...who does not fear the erratic demon?

At the commune, the "church" is hidden away in the labyrinthine basement of an invaded Freddy's location. (The management seems...more than willing...) The Pepperonerie is a front, concealing profits and deaths from the government. The Priest and the Demon wash their money, wash their hands, and serve unsuspecting guests pizza with a healthy dollop of propaganda.

When they aren't terrorizing their followers, however, Dave and Jack spend their time together. It is with mixed enjoyment. They find new purpose in each other. Commit horrible atrocities and live it up in V E G A S, baby! They're...gasp...starting to crush on each other? They're also sexily trying to kill each other just a little bit.

"I hate this purple motherfucker...but I want to kiss him on his hot mouth..."

Important note shoehorned in—

Jack does not worship Dave traditionally, the way the other followers do. He does not fear him at all. He recognizes Dave for what he is- a lonely, desperate fool. As far as they go, the demon is on his leash, not the other way around. He only prays when he needs something, in the very beginning. As their relationship advances however, and they commit atrocities that would make mankind pale, Jack becomes a very religious man. Not because he is afraid or respects him as any kind of authority (he does not respect him period), but because he is Really Gay. The way he prays is devout and hungry. Only in prayer can Jack manage to say what he means.

Actually, Dave ends up more worshipping *Jack* more than Jack worships him. It's turned on its head. Dave is sooo down bad and in love, he'll do anything. Anything at all for his priest, his clementine. His obsession is very much comparable to canon. He haunts Jack and everything that he does. Jack is never alone, never truly, because a dark looming purple shadow will always follow him. He steals his things and vies for his attention at all times of the day, because he is so wrapped around Jack's orange finger it's stupid...

"Jump." "How high?!"

Peace, quiet and privacy is an extinct concept to Jack, unfortunately.

TLDR; They're horrible to eachother but are in love and their hands are drenched in the blood of children (as usual) but now it has a gay worshipping undertone.

This is not everything, of course. Next time I talk, i'll delve more into the serious and rather toxic side of their relationship but this is just some stuff i've managed to crank out! Sorry if it's all over the place! I have one billion thoughts. Feel free to ask any questions, too, I'll do my best to answer. There will be more soon.

[natureismynature]

Gonna talk about Tina, Bad, and Foolish because they make me INSANE-

I'm not gonna expand on the general conversation that BBH and Tina had because I feel like people already put everything I think into amazingly thought out words, so I'll just focus on the part where they talked briefly about Foolish. (No one's surprised to know since it's coming from me lmao)

You see, the thing about BBH and Foolish is the fact that they DO know each other. They talk in metaphors only THEY could understand, they give each other hints but never the truth, they consider each other family but they would gladly throw each other under the bus, they would do ANYTHING for their families but they wouldn't mind hurting each other in the process. They trust each other, but they also decidedly DO NOT.

They have their own lives, they have their own secrets, and they have their own lies. But they've decided they didn't want to be each other's confidants (for some reason) and of course, anyone who keeps heavy secrets would eventually need to tell someone lest they break under the pressure.

For a while, Foolish had Jaiden. He told her EVERYTHING, he included her in everything he did and knew and planned. At the start, he was doing it just to have someone, he didn't care to throw them under the bus when push comes to shove, but in the process he actually grew to care about Jaiden. So now, he didn't want her involved. He didn't want to taint her image with his own dirt. He realized she was better than him, that he didn't want the others to hate her for something that HE did. So he's looking for a new confidant.

Now, I wouldn't say BBH doesn't have a confidant, he has MANY people who are willing to listen to him, to share his burdens. But similar to Foolish, I don't think he wants to burden them. He doesn't want to hurt them or get them caught in the crossfire. Baghera and Forever are too important to him. But, he's also a LOT more distrustful than Foolish. He knows that if he tells his secrets to people who care about him, they're gonna try to help him, which would include trying to stop him. Which he doesn't want. And he DID tell them, and they ARE trying to stop him now, and I don't think he will. I don't think he'll tell them more in the future too...

Then here comes Tina, the naive little new girl, desperate for friendship and trust. She just wants people to trust her, to confide in her, to believe in her. She just wants to help and be helped and not to be left alone in this cold, cruel world. She wants to be a part of something. She wants to be cared about.

These two, VERY secretive people, saw potential in her. They saw how desperate she was, how she was willing to do ANYTHING just for someone to tell her gheir secrets so she can keep it with them. But of course, Foolish and Bad were not that naive to just immediately tell her everything. They needed to test the waters first, to see if she was actually gonna keep their secrets. To she if she would be perfect for the role they want her to take.

And she did.

Unfortunately for Foolish, BBH (for the lack of better words) got to her first. And now he's trying to get her to squeeze out the truth from Foolish.

Because as much as Foolish and Bad trust each other, they also keep the most secrets from one another. They don't trust how much the other trusts them. And BBH is using Tina to get it out of Foolish.

And Tina... Tina is not as clueless as she seems to be. She KNOWS she's being used. She KNOWS this would be a bad idea, but she goes along with it anyway because she's desperate. In her own words, she knows they're shitty deals, but she'll keep making those shitty deals just to have someone stay. Stay by her side. Stay trusting her. Stay being her friend.

She just doesn't want to feel alone. And now she's stuck between a weird ass Tug o' War between two strange people who could probably burn down the whole Island and kill her in the process without batting an eye if they wanted to.

[spotaus]

Dang, that redraw hits hard in 2024 🙏

Below are the old versions! (The left is my very very literally first drawing of Ichor! The others followed a few months/years later-)

Some design breakdowns under the cut!

Okay, okay-

^this guy!! I drew him on my janky old laptop with a tiny lil drawing pad right after my Mlp phase in middleschool. He was one of my first designs and I'll confidently say the first utmv oc who made it onto a drawing format. At the time I refused to draw hands correctly and drew claws instead- Ichor here still had his name "Ichor" and was supposed to be a combo between Reaper and Red. He had his chains because he was a fickle God of death who needed to be held back by his fellow gods lest he wreak havoc on the surface. I love this design to death, mostly because I always think back on it to see how far I've come and how Ichor's been here forever! (Note that here he doesn't have his iconic gold tooth or purple arm. His clawed hands inspired me for the purple arm though, and the one spiked white tooth eventually became his gold tooth!)

^ This is post iPad acquisition thanks to my school getting some new funding. I don't think I drew this on procreate but I can't remember the name of the app smh. This version of Ichor was similar to the old one. Less bent on destruction, more just a trickster. (This one and the other one always fell into 'Teenage' vibes). Now he has shoes, the gold tooth, and the arm! Though he still has both eyelights and the 'crack' in his socket is still a gold scar instead. This *is* where I gave him his gray pants, but the slash on his jacket... uhh... swapped directions?? Idk about that one- But fun fact! The spot on his jacket is a mark of how he'd be killed one day if that came to pass! He doesn't know, no one does, but it's true! Old prophecy locked up somewhere in the Ruins. (Actually, Toriel might be aware.) His arm here is super desaturated because I wanted to keep it a minor detail. That changes very quickly 👀

^ He's lanky af!!! I always go through a phase of drawing things too short, then too tall. Welcome to Ichor's Way Too Tall phase! I wanted him to be big and chunky but uhh. That 'silhouette' talk got to me. Here the biggest differences? The hand is out of the pocket and includes his sword! (Which is Canon still) The scarf is here too! At first the scarf was a gift from Reward, then it was from Reward being killed, then it was just a bold fashion choice?(I settled on it being a gift from Reward again, to help him cover the collar) His socket is finally empty, the crack is there too. His teeth are all straight besides the one gold tooth, and the hand is very purple this time. The lore I wanna mention in this bit is the soul! It's constantly been a pale yellow, but here it has a hole in it! This isn't something that stocks, but the idea of it does. Ichir's chains prevent him from healing with his godly magic, so he's stuck on 1 hp. The god's souls are naturally gold, abd here, Ichor's soul was wounded when he was captured, so he's slowly been fighting off death. (In the final version his soul is white with fading gold, showing how his magic is restricted)

^Honorable mention jumpscare because this is actually a sticker I made about 2 years ago? Not exactly the same pose but it was definitely inspired and it shows how certain elements have stuck around since the last doodle. (This sticker is currently on a sketchbook at my house lmao-)

^And then current! I used to be allergic to using the same colors twice, so he used to have different shades of yellow abd gold everywhere. Now the yellow/gold is all the same! His eyebags (which started in the Lanky era) are more pronounced, he's more classic-shaped than he's ever been, and as per usual I don't think I drew his purple hand right. But! He's my boy, and that's what matters! Side note: His chains aren't visible here, but that's because I've decided that he prefers to hide them. His sleeves are puffy so he can tuck them away, his scarf covers the length of the chain on his collar, etc. It just doesn't make narrative sense that he'd leave them exposed like that. He's also in his old man era finally! Been trying to draw him like this fir years!!!

[kiashie]

Clive/Gav headcanons/rambles/???

remembering i can post whatever i want once again so i'm posting some clive/gav headcanons since i was talking to a friend about our desires for character study slowburn but also our lamentations that we are not fic writers. and how barely anybody else is talking about this ship. so here's the compiled thoughts i've had. (there's more of them than i thought)

(gripping you) think about it with me :) (writers feel free to steal these thoughts as ammunition)

______________________________________________________________

It's very 'Gav falls first, Clive falls harder'. Gav's got eyes, he see's what we all see and as he sees the kind of man Clive is and he's gonna fall deeper. and he also may think he's out of Clive's league. - Clive's got enough self resentment that he isn't even sure he's allowed to love again. the subject of 'loving somebody' is likely barely on the table in his mind yet after 13 years of spite and revenge, he still needs to catch up. Jill may put it on the table as it was maybe something they once felt, or something they were once expected to have; but they're different people now, trying to find themselves in their new space to do so. And during that time Gav is waiting for that 'will they wont they' to unfold.

Clive has spent a lot of time having to be physically violent against his will, so i think he enjoys getting to actually touch people affectionately for once - which we see for ourselves flusters Gav. as Gav grows accustomed to and even reciprocating of it (Gav having his growing crush and deciding to take what he can get) Clive's very glad with how comfortable he can be around Gav without consciously thinking too hard about it. along with how much i think Clive respects and admires Gav for everything he does, he's glad to continue being physically affectionate to show his appreciation.

Clive reflects on how for 13 years he had nothing to sincerely smile for while stuck as a hateful miserable soldier, and even before then under his mother they were few and far between. and as he's finding his footing for the first time in forever this funny breath of fresh air comes along and suddenly he's smiling. often even. And he can't even remember the last time his smile felt real. The last time he laughed so hard, eventually to the point where it's hard enough to make his chest hurt. that he doesn't quite feel like he's drowning.

he tries not to think too hard when Gav gets either giddy or flustered when he's praised lest the word "cute" fill his head. How he thinks Gav deserves all those kind words every time.

He and Gav have had their quiet moments over the years of the timeskip, and maybe somewhere earlier in the timeline than what happens in the game before joshua's returned, Gav's brings up earlier; "i never got to be a big brother" - losing his family in one night - and instead him relating to Clive on the feeling of failing to protect and save a younger sibling. in that vulnerable moment maybe Gav musters up asking 'was being a big brother nice? atleast for a little while?'. and they can mourn together the lost chances, pressure, and pride.

Along the way Clive picks up that Gav's jokes are how he gets by with the darker thoughts, the self doubts, the feeling of not being enough. and he comes to appreciate the Gav that isn't just trying to make him laugh or ease up, the Gav that is also struggling, that makes reminding him he's special continue to mean more to him. when he wants to be the one that also makes Gav smile and laugh and be happy to be alive in return

Gav's a man who's never been good at fancy words, and suddenly he wants to be a poet because he needs a way to describe the feelings he has. As he lets Clive see all his doubts and flaws but never being shamed for it, continuing to be treated by Clive's kindness, he cherishes feeling legitimately seen and cared for despite his weakness. and he feels like the most honoured man alive whenever Clive confides his struggles in him more and more too

everybody has been watching these two insufferably pine, Gav being more self aware and self concious, while Clive not even figuring out his own feelings yet for so long doesn't realize that he's obvious to everyone else :)

When Clive finally puts all the points together, being struck with the realization he's in love. the subsequent question "oh fuck is that allowed", and is laying in that bed hands in his hair staring wide eyed at the ceiling utterly stricken. But Clive, always the driven man, will eventually resolve to let Gav know, because he thinks Gav deserves that much. to let him know how grateful he is to know how to love someone - him - like this.

a leader and his scout to guide eachother :)