#managing POVs

[emilyzipps]

hello! i was wondering if you could tell us about the narration voice, and how to write it? the inside voice of the character that describes how they feel and think. I can't wrap my head around it for some reason, it often feels like i'm rambling too much or Not addressing the meat of the conflict in a way that feels interesting. How detailed should it be? is it better to be direct about what the character thinks and feels, or be kind of vague and trust the reader to figure it out?

This is a great question! This is a very Level Up question, and I love it. Let’s talk bout it!

First of all, quick reminder that there are different kinds of narrative voice. First person (I woke up and I saw…), second person (you wake up and you see) and third person (Alex woke up and she saw). There’s also a distinction within third person of omniscient vs close. Omniscient is when the narrator is sort of the “voice of god,” like a movie camera. In movies, we aren’t in anyone’s head, we’re seeing the world from god’s POV. In omniscient, you can know everything that occurs, regardless of if your main character is there or not. So if Alex and Maggie are in a scene together and it’s omniscient third, it might say things like “Alex smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. Maggie’s heart rose as she smiled back.” We know what BOTH characters are thinking. Close third is the opposite, where you only know what’s happening in the head of the person who is telling the story. So if it’s an Alex POV chapter, you would NOT know that Maggie’s heart rose. It might say, “Alex smiled, trying to hide her disappointment. Maggie smiled back, big and broad, and Alex’s heart sank. Maggie simply isn’t getting her.” We can guess at Maggie’s thoughts from her actions, but we can’t know them.

All of these POV options are good, and all of them have their pitfalls. If you want to explore more about the pros/cons/whens for them, just ask!

But okay, now the meat of the question. Regardless of which POV you’ve chosen, narrative voice, sometimes also called “inner life,” is such an important way to do a bunch of things in your writing. Some of those things are:

Establish character traits and personality. Tell us about this person. What are they like? What do they like? For example, if a car swerves in front of them, what would they do? Yell a curse word? Honk? Pull out a gun? Cry? Have a panic attack? Most of these things will not be said in dialogue, so narrative voice is how we find out.

Tell the reader stuff about the setting/environment in which this character lives. All works have worldbuilding, even if it’s not fantasy or sci-fi. Say your character is walking down the street in chapter one and they notice that what used to be a parking lot is becoming a high-rise apartment building. What do they think about this, and what does it tell us about this place they live? Are they excited because this city is so expensive and they need more affordable housing? Depressed because gentrification is pushing them out of their neighborhood? This is a great way for you not to have to tell us “Development has really changed the economic and racial landscape of this mid-size American city,” which is a boring infodump. Instead, you can say, “Maggie inwardly scoffs at the construction project. She wonders how much longer the wig shops and payday loan storefronts across the street will last, where her abuela will get her nails done if the Whole Foods in this new complex drives every brown shop out of business.”

Demonstrate tension between what they say/do and what they think/feel. No one ever says only and exactly what they think or feel. People are always editing, and some people edit more than others. When they’re sad, what does your character say? How much do they hide it? How well do they hide it? How would they feel if someone knew they were sad? This tells us so much about this person, and also helps build tension and conflict. If Jane is inwardly really upset and hurt because Maura is on a date with someone else, the contrast between what Jane says and what Jane thinks is a big thing that will build the romantic tension between the two of them, especially the unrequited, unspoken romantic feelings Jane has for Maura.

Example: If Maura says, “Jane, I can’t hang out tonight I have a date.”

Does Jane say, “Maura I’m really disappointed to hear that because I have unrequited feelings for you and I wish you paid enough attention to me to notice them. Although, I don’t think I’m good enough for you, so maybe you do know and this is how you’re letting me down easy? I’m not sure, please tell me explicitly.” NO! Of course she doesn’t! She probably says, “Wow. Okay. Have fun.” Or maybe even something kind of snarky like, “Wow, that’s what? Five different guys this month?” The rest happens in narrative voice/inner life.

Maybe like this:

Maura flushes a little. “Jane, I can’t hang out tonight,” she says. Then, after a beat, “I have a date.” Jane’s heart hits the floor. Really? Another date? That’s what, her fifth this month? God, this woman will really do anything with anyone that isn’t named Jane Rizzoli, won’t she? Jane wonders if Maura knows about her (quite obvious) feelings and this is how she’s letting Jane down easy, or if she’s as oblivious as everyone else thinks she is. Jane, deep down in her gut, decides she doesn’t want to know. “Wow,” she says, forcing what must be an unconvincing smile, resolving to take out her anger at the gym later. “Have fun.”

In terms of how detailed you want the narrative voice to be, that depends. Are we talking about something you’re trying to build reader curiosity about—get them hooked and keep them reading—or something you simply want the reader to know? If the former, be vague. If the later, be specific!

Example: You might want to be vague about something mysterious in their backstory. Say the story is from Lena’s POV and the reader—and her love interest Kara—don’t know that her family members are straight up evil people that used the company she now runs for their nefarious, evil purposes. You don’t want to say something like “Lena looked at the pictures on the wall, all the CEO’s of her company that came before her, and shuddered. All of them are her family members, and all of them are guilty of war crimes. She’s ashamed to be affiliated with them in any way, and she’ll die before she tells Kara about it.” That’s not inducing curiosity in the reader, really because you’ve now told them the mystery.

Instead, you might say something like, “Lena, as always, shuddered under the watchful eyes of the portraits of the former CEO’s hung up on the wall in their ornate, gilded frames. She wished she were brave enough to throw the damn pictures in the trash, or more honestly, wished she were brave enough not to let them bother her.” Ooh, suspense. Why? Why does she hate them, why do they make her shudder, why isn’t she able to junk them? And, crucially, we have not said they’re her family. Maybe the escalating reveal will go like this:

Reference 1: Lena shudders (inner life)

Reference 2: Lena calls them evil in her mind (inner life)

Reference 3: alluding to some of their war crimes (inner life)

Reference 4: as much detail as the reader needs to fully understand their evilness (maybe through a dialogue scene)

Reference 5: kara knows about their evilness!!! DRAMATIC TENSION (dialogue)

Reference 6: the big reveal: THEY’RE HER FAMILY MEMBERS dun dun dunnnnnnnn (inner life)

However, for other things, like what does Lena look like or how does she feel the first time she sees Kara? You can just say it, and if you want to, you can also use it to build world or character, like this: “Lena’s always known she was pretty, but as a child she hated her looks because she didn’t resemble her family in any way. Now, as an adult, that’s the one thing she’s immensely grateful for.”

I hope this helps answer your question, and please feel free to ask more questions about this, POVs, managing big reveals, or anything else.

[moonsnqil]

a future where january 19th isn't so bad

[dcxdpdabbles]

I don't know if you were planning on making any more but One Hell of a Good Bellhop is such a good fic and I would love to see more of it

(also I've been reading through your masterlist of posts so sorry for sending you so many notifs from liking them all) ❤️❤️

Charles smiles at the couple, eagerly looking through the clothes Danny had in the old employee lounge. Since they didn't have any more employees, the boy made the suggestion of setting up a gift shop, creating miniature nicknacks from the different eras he transformed the hotel into.

He sold costumes similar to whatever era he wanted the theme to be—this month, it was the Golden Age of Piracy, complete with a treasure hidden somewhere in the hotel for anyone to find—and the pirate costume could make a Hollywood costume designer weep with joy.

Charles didn't understand Danny's meta powers—not that he needed to. He figured he didn't need to. He just accepted that the boy could influence the hotel as if it were one of those video game home designs kids played.

He went to bed one night with the hotel Sally had adored so much falling apart, only to wake to it being in perfect condition, just like his memories. To find rooms set up with furniture and decoration that screamed wealthy—well, it just made his heart warm.

Especially when young people started wandering in, lured by Jazz and Danny walking the streets with flyers. It's been a long time since he saw the look of wonder in his guests' eyes as they took in his beloved hotel.

Danny seemed to really enjoy taking over the hotel. He somehow got the housing, the cooking, and the maintenance taken care of. He was always out of sight, but it let Charles sit at the front desk, resting his feet and watching life be breathed back into the hotel.

If Sally were alive, she would be sitting right next to him and cooing at the young couple holding up clothes against each other, faces flushed with love, as they try to select an outfit.

Despite being males, their excitement reminded him of his younger days when Sally and he would go on trips together whenever they stumbled across a bookshop.

His girl loved reading, while Charles had always fancied custom-made journals. Watching young people fall in love filled his heart with nostalgia; he was lonely.

Eventually, the couple finds what they like to wear for the pirate treasure hunt event and approaches the cash register, where Danny mysteriously appears. His young tenant was dressed in a black trench coat and skulled hat, looking like an authentic Black Beard pirate.

Charles has been watching the whole time, and despite it looking like he merely rounded the door behind the wall leading into the gift shop storage, Danny has literally blinked into existence.

Not that the two young men knew that. They merely paid for their outfits and what looked like a ship in a bottle. As soon as the payment was complete, Danny rounded the same wall and vanished. Charles turned his head to find Danny by the main entrance, holding the door open for a woman with a beaming smile.

He was now dressed to appear like a Cabin boy as he carefully led the new group to Charles for check-in. He didn't wait to hear the room number the group would be staying in before placing their luggage on a cart and vanishing down the hallway.

The woman and man with the three children looked alarmed, but Charles calmed them down by assuring them that their luggage would be waiting for them as soon as they were in their rooms. As he was finished adding them to the system, Danny reappeared to offer the startled couple a warm meal and hot chocolate for the kids.

Jazz, the sweetheart, taught Charles how to use the latest technology. She even modified the code to make the systems more user-friendly.

Charles was touched that she didn't fight his assistance to keep using a guest log book, even with their booking system, and went out of her way to find journals that fit Danny's chosen theme for the month. The kids seemed especially excited to write on parchment with quills afterward, as the adults were charmed by Danny's excellent cooking skills.

He was also in another outfit, this one looking more like a regular pirate member, though with a more green theme than the black of before.

"Are they triplets?" Mrs. Oblie asks as Danny fades from sight, only to appear at the gift shop, helping someone buy a signed treasure chest. He's back in a Black Beard outfit. "The three seem like hard workers."

Charles smiles. "It's the same person. Danny is a very hard worker."

"What?" Mr. Oblie gasps, twisting to stare at Danny and the direction in which Danny had taken their luggage. "How did he change clothes so quickly?"

"He was in the circus," Charles replies with a laugh. "He is used to quick changes. Plus, there are a lot of hidden passages way here."

He says the last bit like it's a big secret, winking at the children- one seems to be ten, the other seven- watching excitement bloom on their faces as they start looking around, attempting to spot the non-existent secret passages. The explanation isn't enough for Mrs. Oblie, but she doesn't argue further as she ushers her family into their room.

They will be down in a few hours so their kids can run around the hotel searching for a treasure. Mr. Oblie admitted over the phone that they hadn't had enough money for a vacation like he originally promised his eldest for her birthday, so this kid-friendly event was a lifesaver. Danny had claimed that it wasn't a lie- apparently, he can hear lies within the hotel, including the landline?- and had chosen to let the Oblie find some treasure even if they didn't win the main pot.

Charles wonders what face Mr.Oblie will make when his daughter finds the real diamond tiara that Danny set aside for her. Where on earth did the boy find something like that?

Charles didn't know and figured it was another part of Danny's meta abilities.

He turns towards the door, smiling as Jazz struts in. Her pantsuit is perfectly tailored, and her red hair falls gracefully behind her back. A few of the mingling guests are star-studded as she strides, her heels clicking on the ground like a bell.

If Danny was the ultimate bellhop who popped in and out of sight, Jazz was the hotel manager who commanded respect and awe. She was here for lunch, always arriving around one o'clock on the dot and the regulars who picked up on that fact always came down to get a glimpse of her.

Jazz and Danny were attractive siblings, but it wasn't mere looks that grabbed people's attention. They felt overwhelmingly alluring, like visiting Fae or a fallen star, as if somehow human but only just about.

Charles often wondered why someone like her was working as an assistant/secretary for an insurance company. She was far more capable than an entire management team.

She set up all their administration details. Charles had no idea how she could organize all their bills, supplies, advertisements, investments, and anything else he could think of for a business while booking appointments and filing claims for an entirely different company. To Charles, it was never about the money, but they were making a large amount now that the Fenotn children took over, and he offered her a position with better pay multiple times.

Jazz waved it away, saying she needed another job for her brother. He does suspect that she only stayed at Gotham Todd Insurance because of the young owner, whom her eyes tracked whenever Mr. Jason Todd walked through the building.

But Charles kept that theory to himself.

A soft clatter sounds from his elbow. Charles looks down to find a steaming plate of food, obviously done by Danny. He smiled at it, holding it up to Jazz as she neared. "Hi, sweetie; how's work going?"

"Hi, Grandpop," She beams, leaning over to hug him and gently kiss his cheek in greeting. "It's been a boring day. I finished this week's work in a few hours and just spent three hours preparing everything for Danny's next theme. Get this; he wants to do couples Cupid house for Valentine's Day."

She shakes her head fondly, in a way that reminds him so surreally of Sally that his heart squeezes. "Honestly, what goes through that guy's head?"

Charles beams back at her, hand curling around a glass of juice that zaps into existence in front of him like second nature. He hands it over to Jazz while she carefully cuts through her meatloaf.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Charles tells her, leaning back in his chair. Jazz joins him as another plush chair appears at his side, and it takes him a moment to realize that Danny has restored the same club chairs from when the Gotham Fog Lodge originally opened.

These chairs were the ones that Charles and Sally used the first night they met by the fireplace of the hotel's main sitting room. They spoke for hours, and by the end of that night, he knew she was the one. Seeing the young lady he considered his granddaughter sitting in the same chair, Sally had adored so much, made her feel closer then ever before.

He wonders if he could die from how warm his heart glows.

"I think love is the greatest thing Gotham Fog Lodge can offer," Charles says, wiping some tears away. In return, jazz gives him a warmer smile, and Danny appears on his other side, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Gotham Fog Lodge is great because you're here, Grandpop," Danny says, seemingly unaware of how the hotel brightens when he speaks. "You were the only one who was kind to us when we got to Gotham."

Charles hugs the two rascals to hide the few tears that fall from happiness. He has no proof, but he's sure Sally sent these wonderful children his way. How else could a smuck like him be this lucky?

[14dayswithyou]

Kiara has been banned from the library???

WHAT DID GIRLYPOP DO 😭‼️There are several other patrons with disgustingly unacceptable behavior — just look at the stains on the shelves and carpet! I demand to speak with the manager RIGHT THIS SECOND!!☝️

FREE HERRRR

/silly

Kiara set her sibling up on a date with Teo, so now she's unfortunately doomed to— *comically loud sound of books falling down a staircase* —which then leads to the unfortunate set of events involving Elanor during Day— *Conan's absurdly loud dad sneeze can be heard from his office* —Oh!! And also, if Teo is kept alive, then in Day T— *sounds of someone blowing up the employee lounge again* —So in saying all of that, Kiara has been banned on account of— *who tf is operating a forklift inside the library????* —...But what's this about stains on the shelves?? ^^

[bi-shop]

She Has Already Awakened Too Much

[noxemma]

First comes love a kid(napping), then comes a marriage ... Yeah, they're definitely doing things in the wrong order, but maybe, if they're lucky, they can figure out how to reverse their way into something real.

Parts 1&2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

———

Thank you all for the comments and reblogs. I honestly didn't expect so many people to enjoy my little spin on colorlessjay's story idea and I'm really flattered. Hopefully, this next part lives up to the others and thanks for continuing to read! ———

Blackbird singing in the dead of night ... "I should, um, that, that's Jack, so I should-" Cas stutters an explanation as he grabs for his phone but it slips off the nightstand, the Beatles continuing to croon from the ground.

Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise

"Jack, hey buddy! How did everything go last night?" "Great! Mr. Sam is awesome, even if he did make me go to bed at nine. He helped me with my math homework and this morning he made something yummy for breakfast. It's a piece of bread and you cut a hole out of it, then put the egg- Oh, hi Mr. Dean!" Cas turns the phone and Dean sees the kid's face fill the screen. "Oh, uh, hi Jack!" Dean gives a little wave, smile blooming because it's nearly impossible not to at the boy's infectious enthusiasm. "Sounds like you had a good time with Sam. He didn't burn it did he? Last time he tried to make them he almost burned down the whole house." "No, I did not!" Sam barks. Jack's giggling is almost loud enough to drown him out as the image blurs, and he's replaced by Sam.

"Glad to see Egg-in-a-Nest is still a fan favorite," Dean laughs, leaning over the bed closer to Cas so he doesn't have to keep stretching back awkwardly and they can both get into view.

"Yeah, well, I figured if it worked on me as a kid ... well, Jack just wanted to say hi and make sure you guys made it okay," Sam says, but Dean notices a weird tone in his voice and a squinting of his eyes. "Dean, are you-?"

He's suddenly very self-conscious about the fact that neither he nor Cas have shirts on.

"Right, well, uh, why don't you give the phone back to Cas so he and Jack can talk. I'll call you in a minute," Dean says to Sam who nods, before Dean turns to whisper to Cas. "Hey, I'm gonna go grab my bag so I can change. Can I have the keycard?"

"Oh! Of course. I got one for both of us; I must have forgotten to tell you last night. Yours should be on the table by the coffee maker," Cas murmurs back, eyes so close he can almost map the waves of dark blue in his irises. "Thanks," Dean breathes, frozen in place until Cas turns his head to respond to Jack's barrage of questions. "How long was the drive? How far away is Las Vegas? Have you seen Uncle Gabe yet?"

He hightails it out the door only stopping long enough to grab the essentials and opting for the safety of a door between him and the attractive professor before slowing down to pull on his dirty t-shirt and shoes.

Even before he's in the elevator his phone is buzzing, and he knows it's Sam. "Hey, Sammy," Dean answers with false brightness as he jabs the button for the lobby. "Don't 'Hey, Sammy' me, Dean. Please tell me you didn't sleep with my professor." Dean opens his mouth but Sam barrels on, "And don't tell me you didn't because I have eyes. You were both shirtless! In the same bed! And I'm pretty sure you don't own grey sweats or orange underwear!"

"How the fuck do you know what underwear I'm wearing?"

"Like I said: eyes. I saw you get off the bed before I handed the phone back to Jack. Now, I want answers."

"Look, I didn't sleep with him. I mean I did, but just because there was a mix up with the room and ours only had one bed. Both of us were so exhausted last night, or rather this morning, that it didn't seem worth the effort to figure it out." "And the clothes?"

Dean sighs and watches the digital number decrease.

"I desperately needed a shower but didn't realize I'd forgotten my bag in the car. Cas over-packed and lent me some clothes," Dean explains, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and stop the headache he feels coming on. "Look, I promise I'm not looking to hook-up with your English professor, no matter how hot he is. I'm just here to play fake fiancé as a favor and maybe get a little extra padding for your tuition fund, okay?" Dean tells Sam, not particularly interested in analyzing why telling the truth feels so much like a lie.

He opens his eyes to find the elevator doors open he steps off only to bump straight into a guy who walks in without waiting to let anyone off. Dean curses as the jolt sends his phone skittering across the fancy marble floor.

"Watch where you're going," the man snarls, lip curling disdainfully as he takes in Dean's outfit. "Bite me!" Dean barks back, rubbing his arm and bending to pick up his phone, sighing in relief when there are miraculously no cracks.

"Dean? Dean!" Sam's worried voice calls from the speaker.

"Hey, sorry. Some entitled asshole knocked the phone out of my hand-"

"What did you mean 'fake fiancé'?"

Crap, I totally forgot to tell him about that little change in plan.

"Right, so the thing is ..."

Dean explains the whole backstory that Cas had told him about Jack while he grabs his bag and the shoes from Baby.

"Look, Sam. I know what I'm doing, okay? I promise I won't kill anyone or anything and even if I do, I know a great kid lawyer who'll get me out." "I'm not a lawyer yet," Sam groans before finally heaving a resigned sigh. "Just don't hurt yourself or Professor Novak, okay?" "You have my word, bitch." "Yeah, yeah. Call me later, jerk."

The bathroom door is closed and Cas is nowhere in sight, so Dean just starts changing. He's just pulling his burgundy overshirt on overtop the plain black tee he may or may not have picked because it clung a bit to his arms and chest, emphasizing the muscle there, when Cas comes out of the bathroom. Dean hasn't known the man long, but he feels confident that Cas is uncomfortable in the get-up. He has on khaki pants and a light blue button up with a tan striped tie that is somehow twisted backwards. His hair is tamed and there has to be some sort of product in it to keep the whisps and curls under control.

"Uh, you look- Should I change? I don't think I have anything that could be considered, what is that? Tax accountant chic?" Dean teases but only to stop himself from worrying about how woefully underdressed he's going to look in comparison. "No! Er, no. You look wonderful," Cas rushes as he glances over Dean once, then slows down for a more in-depth perusal that has Dean's blood heating again. "If I wanted you to change, I wouldn't be dating you." "You're not dating me," Dean mutters, wincing at how petulant it sounds and hoping Cas doesn't pick up on it. "Dean, if I wanted someone to play pretentious boyfriend, I could have invited Mick. My parents would probably love him, but I would never actually date someone like him." Cas trails off, clearly uncomfortable and trying to figure out what to say, but all Dean's mind can think is:

"You wouldn't date him, but you'd date me?"

"I may not have known you for very long, but I can tell that you are a kind, hardworking man who cares about your brother and the feelings of others," Dean tries to keep breathing as Cas continues on, getting closer until he's right in front of Dean, "You're smart, funny, intelligent, and I think I could probably talk to you for hours. So, yes, I would date someone like you."

The warmth that blossoms at Cas' proximity and flattering description of him cools to lukewarm at the two extra words that change the entire meaning of Cas' little speech.

Right. 'cause Cas would never date me either, just 'someone like me'.

"Uh, thanks, Cas. I always appreciate compliments and it's good to know my first impression didn't do irreparable damage to your opinion of me. I think you're pretty great too and I've enjoyed getting to know you," Dean reciprocates, forcing the palatable pieces of the truth out of his mouth, the rest, like how he's opened up more to Cas than he has to anyone else in years, sticks painfully behind his teeth and under his tongue. "Of, of course, Dean," Cas says, brow slightly furrowed as if he can sense something is off about Dean's response but can't quite pinpoint it.

Thankfully, Cas' phone starts ringing, this time blaring an old version of the Candy Man. "Gabriel, we are headed out now. No! Do not strangle Balthazar, he is allowed to dislike Celine Dion," Cas rolls his eyes at Dean, quiet for a few moments as Gabriel speaks. "Yes, he will be joining us for brunch, though not if you keep calling him that. Fine. We'll see you soon."

"So, uh, are we driving to this place or ...?"

"Oh, no. My parents are having it catered in the penthouse," Cas tosses out like it means nothing. "Oh, the penthouse. Great," Dean grumbles as he follows Cas out.

———

Before Cas even gets his hand up to knock on the penthouse door, it swings open. "Castiel, thank god you're finally here. If I have to hear Bal talk about how much he hates Titanic one more time, I swear I just might have to take drastic measures." "Good morning, Gabriel. Glad to see you're not overreacting," Cas says dryly, rolling his eyes. Dean peeks over his shoulder to see Gabriel in a theatric faint against the doorway. "After all I do for you-" Gabriel moans. "None of which I asked for."

Gabriel's eyes pop open and he looks like he's about to say something cutting when his eyes lock on Dean over Cas' shoulder. "Ah! You're still here. Castiel, would you mind introducing me to your paramour?" Gabriel asks innocently like he hadn't broken into their room this morning and doesn't have pictures of the two of them cuddling on his phone. "He's not my paramour-" "Didn't look that way this morning," Gabriel sing-songs. "-he's my boyfriend, and fiancé as far as any of our other relatives know. Gabriel, this is Dean. Dean, this insufferable idiot is my brother, Gabriel." "Don't let him fool you, he loves me," Gabriel insists as he sidesteps Cas to thrust out a hand to Dean.

"Uh, nice to finally put a face to the name, 'Uncle Gabe,'" Dean says, wincing a little as Gabe crunches his hand in a punishing grip and pulls him in. "Now. I know the engagement is fake, but what are your intentions with my baby brother?"

Gone is all the mirth and mischief from his eyes, replaced by a fierce protectiveness that Dean knows well and has to admire. "I just want to make Cas happy. In whatever way I can."

The words come out so easily and Dean is surprised by the truth behind them.

Gabe nods, finally relinquishing Dean's hand. "Great. If you're done being an absolute bag of dicks, I believe we have a torture session disguised as brunch to attend." "You're mean when you're hangry, 'Cas,'" Gabriel teases, unwrapping a piece of taffy he pulled from who-knows-where and popping it into his mouth before leading them both into the penthouse. Dean had known that the penthouse of a Las Vegas hotel was going to be fancy, hell Elvis had lived in one, but nothing prepares him for the opulence he steps into.

Dean's jaw is on the floor as they pass beneath crystal chandeliers. A quick peek into the two rooms jutting off the entry way shows one to be a miniature movie theater with eight seats and the other a mini lounge complete with a pool table and fully stocked bar. Cas is impossibly unfazed as they swing by the living room that houses a hundred-inch flatscreen, a fireplace, and a baby grand piano and Dean can't figure out if he truly doesn't care or if he's just used to witnessing his family's wealth. They stop just short of the dining room, low murmurs echoing out to them. "Dean, are you sure you want to do this?" Cas whispers, ignoring the way Gabe arches his brow as he waits for them just in the doorway. "I'm sure," Dean says, lacing their fingers together for a quick, supportive squeeze.

Cas nods and they step into the lion's den together after Gabriel.

——— "Castiel, how lovely of you to finally join us," a woman's sharp words slice at them the moment they enter the room. "I was beginning to think you might not have shown up at all. Who is that with you?" Cas keeps a smile on his face, but his hand tightens around Dean's and Dean can see the tension around his eyes. "Naomi," Cas nods stiffly in acknowledgment before introducing Dean, "This is my fiancé, Dean."

"Dean," Naomi says his name like it's something slimy. "What is it that you do?" "I'm a mechanic-" Is all Dean manages to say before he is cut off. "'Naomi,' is that anyway to treat our dear mother, Castiel?" a man seated next to Naomi asks, words laced with venom. "Have some respect." Dean's eyes narrow as he focuses on the familiar looking guy before placing him as the asshole who'd bumped into him earlier that morning at the elevator. "She has made it very clear that I am no son of hers, so her given name is the most respectful thing I can call her, Michael, though I'm sure I could think of a few less respectful ones if you'd prefer."

Dean wants to whoop with pride, but he bites his lip, knowing if he says anything now it will be a long, long brunch and he's starving.

"Enough! Everyone, just sit so we can begin," booms an older gentleman Dean assumes is Cas' father, Chuck, based on how everyone follows the order as he takes his seat at the head of the table. Naomi claps her hands twice and waitstaff emerge from the kitchen carrying trays of food. Dean watches in morbid fascination as each tray is presented to Chuck first then brought around to each person, the waiter or waitress serving a portion from their tray to the plate on the table or pouring what looks to be mimosa into champagne glasses, completely ignored by everyone. "Chuck is at the head of the table, Naomi is to his right. Next to her is my older brother Michael and I think that is his fiancé," Cas whispers to Dean. "Abagail. Then you have Balthazar, our cousin. Uriel's wife, Sarah, is next to him and that's Uriel at the foot of the table. Moving on, Marv, the family attorney is on the other side of Castiel and our aunt Amara, is to dear old dad's left," Gabriel takes over explaining. "Basically, everyone one hates each other but we all play nice because tearing out each other's jugulars would probably make for bad press." Dean's head is swimming with names and faces, which only gets worse as he glances at all of them and realizes that underdressed is a gross overstatement. He's just contemplating stabbing himself with the salad fork (because yeah, the table is set with about a million different utensils Dean can't hope to guess the function of), when a flash of silver appears in his periphery. "Uh, sir? Would you like some-" Dean turns toward the server to respond, which seems to startle the gangly man so much that he stumbles back. Dean watches in horror as time slows.

The server fails to regain his balance, tripping over his own legs. The silver tray with a strange beige looking meat substance teeters on the waiter's hand before tipping and clattering to the floor with a splat and a clang. Time speeds back up as Dean leaps from his chair to help the man up. "Hey, I'm so sorry about that ..." "Uh, Garth, and I'm the one who should be apologizing." Dean hauls him to his feet before helping him grab his tray.

"Seriously, it was my fault. No need for you to take the blame for something I caused. You okay?"

Garth smiles and nods, "I'm a little bruised but definitely in better shape than the fois gras." Dean guesses that must be the meat on the floor, but he honestly has no idea. "Uh, you should probably sit back down now," Garth whispers, whipping out a cloth from somewhere and scooping up the meat, another person stepping in right after him to mop the spot.

He turns to heed the waiter's advice only to find everyone's eyes boring into him with varying emotions. Chuck, Naomi, Uriel, Michael, and Marv all stare at him with disgust and disdain. Abagail and Sarah with horror. Balthazar and Gabriel regard him with astonished amusement. Amara sears him with an intense emotion that borders on lascivious.

The other waitstaff all have soft smiles of gratitude.

And then there's Cas. Cas stares at him with pride and affection and something else that is warm and comforting. So, he doesn't look anywhere else. Just plops down and acts like nothing happened, Cas' hand finds his under the table.

"Dean," Naomi calls to him, his name icy and cold on her tongue. "I will let your impertinence slide as I am sure that you are not accustomed to silver service or etiquette, but the rule of thumb is to not interact with the staff." Dean tries to tamp down the anger bubbling in him, he really does. But then Naomi gives a little pretentious sniff and Dean can't help himself. "Thank you all for the wonderful service. Everything," Dean can't quite bring himself to lie because the truth is he hasn't had a bite of anything that tasted good, "Looks wonderful. Though I can't vouch for its taste, but that's probably due to my unrefined palate. Garth, would I be able to get some regular old peasant eggs and bacon?"

The scowls on him deepen and whispers begin to fill the room but the waitstaff can't hide their beaming and snickers and both Balthazar and Gabriel do a poor job trying to stifle their laughter behind their champagne glasses.

"Honestly, Castiel. If you can't even control your boyfriend, how are you expected to raise a child," Chuck throws out casually. "This is why he should come live with us. He needs the stability of two responsible parental figures." "Hey! Cas is a great father!" Dean snarls, old wounds scraped open and bleeding at the memory of being questioned about his own ability to raise Sam. "Dean," Cas says softly, placing a hand on his arm. "Ignore them, I do. Let's just get through this, okay?" Dean sits back in his seat, angrily chewing a piece of bacon that Garth ended up getting him, delivered with a grin and a wink. He resolves himself to let it go and stay silent for the rest of the miserable brunch.

It's a great plan, except Naomi just has to open her mouth. "Dean, I'm not sure you're aware, but Jack is Castiel's nephew," she corrects both the nickname and Jack's heritage, "not his son. Castiel will never be a real father, not with his ... condition." Dean tries to count to ten, tries to picture Sammy telling him not to, but he looks to Cas and all restraint flies out the window when he sees tears burning at the edges of his beautiful blue eyes. He jumps to his feet, slamming his hands against the table as if he didn't already have everyone's undivided attention. "Damn! Did you hear that, Cas? Turns out you can't be a father because neither of us can get pregnant. Guess that means we should stop trying so hard," Dean shouts, sarcasm dripping from every word. There is a full second of silence where time seems suspended before all hell breaks loose. Gabe sprays mimosa out of his nose at the inuendo and proceeds to struggle between laughing and coughing. Cas is staring open mouthed up at Dean, unreadable emotion in his eyes. Everyone else gasps and clutches their metaphoric pearls like he'd stood up on the table, pulled down his pants and underwear, and yelled "Pudding!" while shaking his junk at them. Naomi, unfortunately, appears to recover first. "How dare you-" "How dare I?" Dean asks incredulously. "How dare you? I may not be up to date on proper etiquette, but I'm pretty sure berating and belittling your son's fiancé, whom you've just met, is frowned upon. Also, how dare you question Cas' ability to be a parent? He is Jack's dad in every way that counts. He provides for him and loves him unconditionally and would do anything to protect him, which is clearly more than you two can say about yourselves. And he's not doing it alone anymore. He has me and I promise you: I'm not going anywhere." "Don't you speak to my wife that way," Chuck yells at Dean, standing and matching his stance. "And how could Jack possibly benefit from you, Dean? How much do you actually make as a mechanic? Will you be able to help with Jack's college and expenses? Did you even go to college? " "You know what, no. Happy? I didn't go to college. I've never had and probably never will have anything that amounts to material wealth. But what I do have is a G.E.D, a give 'em hell attitude, a decade of experience raising my brother, who got a one-seventy-four on his first shot at the L-SAT and is a few semesters away from graduating in the top ten percent of his class at Stanford, and a whole lotta love for Jack and Cas. So, you can keep your etiquette and complicated silver wear and awful tasting expensive food. I'd rather be poor and happy with a dick in my ass than rich and empty with a stick up it any day a'the week," Dean finishes, huffing and shaking as the rage still claws at him and begs for a bruisable outlet other than an inflated ego.

"Dean ..." Cas breathes beneath him and Dean wants to kick himself. He was supposed to make Cas look good, look stable. And now he'd probably fucked everything up. He doesn't look at Cas, even though he can feel him tugging at his overshirt. He can't look at him yet, needs another moment to scramble together a protective wall from the disappointment and anger he's going to find in the haunting blue. He chooses to stare down Chuck and Naomi who are apparently stunned speechless, as is the rest of the table. "Dean," Cas growls his name this time, but Dean still needs just one more second.

He doesn't get it. Cas is up on his feet beside him, grabbing his face in both hands and pulling him into a kiss.

Cas lips move against his, working at his lower lip until Dean's lips part and Cas' tongue is exploring his mouth. Dean shudders at the sensation, reciprocating eagerly and needing to taste Cas. "Thank you, Dean," Cas whispers as he pulls away far too soon, Dean's lips naturally chasing after him. "Cas?" Dean asks, dazed, confused, and licking the last traces of Cas champagne breath off his lips. Cas doesn't answer though because the room explodes in a cacophony of shouts as everyone jumps to their feet, excluding Abagail and Sarah who shyly give Dean secret thumbs up. Over the din, Dean hears Michael roar that Cas is uninvited from the wedding. "If Cas isn't going, then I'm not. And, judging from your tanking stock, you need me to present a united, family friendly front for the press. I mean that is what this whole wedding is, right? A merger between the Shurley Corporation and Roman Enterprises?" Neither Michael, Naomi, nor Chuck respond. "I'm loathe to agree with Gabriel on anything, but I'm on his and Castiel's team for this one. You bastards," Balthazar says the last part to Gabe and Cas with something that might be considered affection, shocking Dean with his British accent. "If Gabriel and Castiel aren't going, then I'm bloody well not either." "Chuck, Naomi, it's been a pleasure, as always," Cas spits toward them, grabbing Dean's hand and dragging him towards the door. Dean is still too out of it to resist, so he follows Cas, fingertips hovering over his swollen lips, barely registering Gabriel scrambling after them shouting, "Mom, pops, I gotta say, I think this is the best brunch you've ever hosted!"

———

Tag List (I think I got everyone who asked but lmk if you want to be added or removed):

@colorlessjay @destielfangirl24 @chokinghazardchirp @o-birdseed-o @examishbookwyrm

[cubbyhole-for-flea-bee]

Once the theatre monkey discovers angsty broadway musicals its all over y'all

or: I got a new personal project I'm workin' on! I'm at the first pass on the animatic rn! I forgot that 'generate matte' is a thing you can do in SB Pro for a whole hour!! I'm suffering!!!

[valtsv]

i think i got a good grade in job interview

[b1adie]

— ⟢ basic attack —✧— gleaming admonition ⟣ —

[jinxedruby]

Inktober Day Eight: Hike

The companion piece for Whumptober day seven (previous part link will take you there)

First part | <- Previous part | Next part ->

[totallynottinsel]

Hello!

I saw a post where you were asking for prompts about bagginshield, if you're still looking you could try something like,

Thorin desperately trying to get information about hobbit courting. Him sending ravens to go all the way to the shire to meet Darrow from the blue mountains to figure out what the hell Bilbo means by the words " flower language". Or "ancient family recipes" Or even "a garden gift proposal"

Have Thorin with the entire company trying to figure out how to get the king hitched with the legendary burglar. Ori suddenly wants all the information on hobbits. Nori is sending ravens frantically back and forth from the shire and one of his spy ring buddies. Bombur is cooking with bilbo and memorizing certain hobbit food techniques. Gloin is asking bilbo about his family and friends and what his parents did for courting.

Bilbo has either no clue what is happening, Or is just fucking with all of them. Dealers choice lol.

AAAAWGE this is so cute. I'm obsessed. Thorin pov this time huzzah!

Thorin was at a complete loss for words.

It had been a year since the reclaiming of Erebor and the Battle of the Five Armies, and after a steady recovery he'd begun his first works as king----starting with the removal of all the hoarded gold and it's trade with the men of Dale who sought to rebuild. Afterward came a reconstruction of the dwarven halls itself, as Smaug had done quite decent damage to the structure. It had all gone well, and Thorin fell into a comfortable sureness that he would steer his people well in the right direction; but one thing he did not prepare himself for was a certain hobbit.

He had enough in him to admit to himself he'd gone and fallen utterly in love with Bilbo Baggins, but lacked the confidence to say it to him directly. Or anyone. Ever. A horrible idea really; he did not want to risk the friendship he and Bilbo had grown over their journey if he shared his true feelings and only got rejected for it. He would rather have him as a friend instead of nothing all together. He had tried to make a few moves here and there, just to test the waters, but perhaps his attempts at flirting were too subtle? (He would soon learn from the company he was the exact opposite of subtleness)

He wasn't even certain Bilbo felt the same, especially after he had threatened his very life while under a fierce sickness; why would he take Thorin then? Even if Bilbo did not hold it against him for a second, he himself still felt pained by the incident.

It was only till Bilbo had begun making him breakfast every morning, the same time, just how he liked it---his suspicion was peaked that perhaps there could be something. It also offered him a smile each day, taking a weight off the stressful nights he spent working late, which was another thing Bilbo had done for him. He'd come to Thorin's room often to remind him to rest, or more of pushing him straight into bed whether he liked it or not. He kept himself from asking Bilbo to stay.

But one morning Thorin had been simply baffled.

"Thorin! Wait!" Bilbo came rushing for him from behind, trying to catch him before he left for a meeting. "I've---I've got something, before you go. For you." He had something he fiddled around with in his hands, looking a bit pink in the face.

Thorin's interest was immediately taken. "For me?" He quirked a brow, and watched as Bilbo scrunched his nose, seemingly considering what to do, then finally unveiled what lay in his palm; it was a neatly woven bracelet of sorts, made out of tree vines and fresh greenery, and a few small flowers. That took him by surprise, as he was half expecting him to have another acorn or something of the sort.

"You're meant to wear it on your wrist. Well---you probably already knew that, but... it's made out of plants from my garden. Er, a garden gift..." Bilbo rethought his last choice of words suddenly. "Proposal. In the Shire we---"

"Thorin!" Fili called from down the hall. "Bard and his men have arrived. They're getting a bit snappy..."

"Coming!" Thorin said back, and took the bracelet with a warm smile. "Thank you. I'll be gone for most the day, but if you'd like, we could meet after dinner?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, that sounds good." Bilbo nodded, though still had a bit of an awkward gleam to him for a reason Thorin couldn't quite place, that was until halfway into the council where he eyed the gift sat in his hand curiously, repeating Bilbo's words in the back of his head. 'A garden gift proposal.' Wait, proposal? Thorin seemed to have skipped over that crucial part. He gently fondled the bracelet in a deeper examination of it; what sort of proposal did it hold exactly? Was it a diplomatic one? An offer for celebration of the company's good health, perhaps? Or maybe it was rooted deeper than that. Maybe---

"Thorin? You alright lad?" Balin's voice cut through his thoughts abruptly, making him turn his head upward to see everyone staring at him strangely.

"Hm? Yes, fine." He recovered quick to spare himself any further prodding. Though he could not stop thinking of the gift from then on, and it rattled his mind in an endless parade of questions. Hobbit's were still a mystery to him, especially that of Bilbo Baggins. It wasn't long after the council ended that Balin, the ever kind soul he was, sat Thorin down for a talk as if he were a boy again.

"I know that look on your face," Balin said. "Something's troubling you."

Thorin only sighed, then revealed the bracelet from his pocket. "Bilbo gave this to me, he... said it was a 'garden gift proposal.'" Blain's eyes widened at that. "I'm not entirely sure what he means by it."

The older dwarf grinned. "He's been making your meals, hasn't he? And watching over you?"

"Yes?"

"Well, if my ears don't deceive me, it sounds like he's trying to court you lad."

Thorin stared back at him, then to the bracelet, unsure of his next step; he knew absolutely nothing about how hobbit's went about courting, hence why it took him so long to take notice to any of the signs---so that left him with few options. If he was to reciprocate Bilbo's attempts, he wanted to do it properly. "I need your help."

"Alright! Listen up," Kili shouted across the room full of the whole company, gathered in secret. "We're here to help my poor uncle, and your favorite king, finally get with Mr. Boggins."

"Baggins." Ori said.

"Oh, yeah." Kili continued his survey of the room. "When was the last time you were eyeing someone, anyways?"

"Not since the candle incident with Rudan Wyverntank." Thorin said, and half the company shuddered at the mention. Poor Rudan still hasn't recovered.

"Right, well, we'll need all the help we can get then! C'mon, let's hear some ideas."

Nori raised a hand. "I can send a raven or two to my good pals in the Blue Mountains. Few of'em have had flings with some hobbit ladies. Oof, one said he couldn't walk straight for days after she---"

"Keep that to yourself!" Dori scrambled to cover Ori's ears, though the younger dwarf swatted him away.

"I---I wrote down quite a bit of things when we were first in the Shire," Ori raised the journal he had in his lap. "I could ask Bilbo about some of them, if that would help?"

"Perfect!" Kili clapped his hands together.

"If anyone knows about pleasing a lover, it would be me!" Glóin stood himself up proudly. "Let me speak with our hobbit, find out what he's playin' at. You know, my wife---"

"Yes, thank you, we know." Kili decided to give someone else a go.

"E'cooks for you, right Thorin?" Bombur asked. "Well, I could get a read on those scrumptious recipes o'his! Wouldn't mind getting some me-self..."

"Like you need more of those." Bifur grumbled, still surprising a lot of them with his now cohesive sentences as if that axe never even got near him.

"This is nice and all, but why don't you just ask Bilbo yourself?" Bofur, the ever open mouthed, spoke an obvious that many of them didn't think of trying.

"We've seen how that's played out." Fili choked back a keen laugh after Thorin gave him a less than pleased glare.

"He can't just ask!" Kili said in refusal.

"Why...?" Bofur was absolutely lost.

"Because---he... uh, that's too forward. They love it when you're mysterious!" Kili seemed to think after winning the heart of a Elven warrior, that he was automatically a romance expert. He did have his charms, but he ranked just above Ori in the socially inexperienced youngsters box, by dwarven standards. Fili laughed again.

Thorin only wished for a smidge of advice to guide him in the right direction, not a full blown battle worthy scheme. But, there he was---taking it regardless.

So, there it began with Glóin, who retrieved some interesting information; he learned that Bilbo found his parents relationship very aspirational, as they loved and understood each other well, but when bickers struck---they always worked through it. Bilbo admitted he wished they were there to help him, but with what in particular, he flushed and laughed it off. Glóin also, being a big family man, asked if A, he had close kin, (which was a no, besides a cousin or two that didn't hate him) and B, if he wanted to have children in the future.

Thorin had his first and hopefully only heart attack learning the answer to the latter was "with the right person, I suppose."

Kili's immediate: "You better get to work then." Did not help either.

Next came Bombur, who learned the delicate breakfasts, mid-day snacks, and lavish dinners Bilbo had been making were indeed a traditional hobbit form of early stage courting. It was meant to show your heart and dedication and how much you knew about the person's taste. And as consistently as Bilbo had been doing it, they should've been on the honeymoon already. It never crossed Thorin's mind that food could be an affectionate thing, but Bombur was quick to criticize him on that. "It's much more than sustenance, y'know!"

Ori had quite a great insight as well; he showered Thorin with piles of books about hobbit culture, though where the young dwarf found them was a mystery to him entirely. Among them was also some 'educational' dwarven literature on all things romantic and, well, coital. Ori insisted he absolutely did not mean for that to get inside the pile. "Sorry, really! I'll take that. Not that I need it! Uh, sorry!" Thorin didn't see him again for days, fairly certain he scared him off completely.

Nori had gotten valuable intel from his mates not long after, and he could confirm the whole bracelet 'garden gift proposal' thing was exactly what it sounded like. You make said gift out of plants and vines from your garden, and offer it to whomever you wish to deepen your relationship with---a sort of next big step from casual flings and early courting. If the person accepts the gift, they agree, and bring a bracelet back of their own making in return. Well, there comes the second heart attack unfortunately.

With the bracelet in mind, Thorin wanted to do his part and give Bilbo one back to show he wanted this. But that required plants and vines and flowers, which were fairly non-existent on and in the mountain, nor did he know how to make one with the right materials. So that meant...

"You've come for my help, over matters of the heart? How amusing is that." A sly smirk ran across Thranduil's lips as he sat splayed over his throne, watching Thorin like a cat pawing at a helpless mouse. "Tell me, Thorin Oakenshield," There he goes. "King Under the Mountain, what can I offer you?"

After the Battle, he and the Elven King had amended their feud, and Thorin made right to return the white gems of Thranduil's kin. Though they may have become allies as rulers, they were not past petty talk and silent glares. Thorin held down his pride and carried, even if he wanted to wipe that smug stare off his face. "I wish to return Bilbo a gift he has given me, but I lack the supplies to forage it properly." In his hand he held the bracelet out, and Thranduil leaned forward, interested. "It is made out of plants. As you can imagine, I cannot find what I need on the mountain. So.."

"You want to weave your gift out of my leaves?" Thranduil's brow perked upward.

"Yes."

The Elf thought quietly, tapping a finger to his chin, as if to just prolong Thorin's suffering. "Alright." He finally said.

"What?" Thorin wasn't expecting that, based off their previous encounters in deal making.

"I'll help you," Thranduil descended his throne, the train of his luxury gown following behind. He approached the dwarf, eyeing the gift, but not with malice. "But there's a cost."

Of course there is.

"I'll be the first to be invited to your matrimony."

"Matrimo--?"

"Come!" Thranduil clapped his hands, and servants came to his aid out of thin air. "Gather the finest vines from our trees; the purest leaves, and the most blooming flowers. Go, now." Thorin had been happily surprised by Thranduil's assistance, and what the elves brought to him that day was almost identical to the one Bilbo had crafted, but had a far more elegant work to it instead of the rustic charm of the Shire. The vines were darker rather than a lighter brown, the leaves bright oranges and reds instead of bright green, and tiny, almost colorless flowers were spotted over it. It was just as unique as the first. He could only hope Bilbo would like it.

When the night came, the company watched with wide eyes and cheeky grins outside the library door, waiting in anticipation for the moment they'd all been working towards. Even if Thorin strictly said he wanted it to be private, they deserved to see their efforts paid off!

"I wish to give you something, as a thank you for your gift, and..." Thorin held out the Elvish bracelet in his palm, and felt his heart give at the sight of Bilbo's smile. Surely his knees would go next if this was to keep going well. "It was made out of Mirkwood. I... hope it is to your liking." He heard some of the company laughing off somewhere. So much for kingly respect.

"Oh, Thorin, it's beautiful---really." Bilbo took it eagerly, holding it between his fingers, reminded of the memories of the wood and the Elven kings halls, both the good and the mostly bad. "Nori's ravens worked well then?"

Suddenly the laughter came to a fast halt.

Thorin blinked silently. "You knew--?"

"Of course I did! You all aren't very good at keeping things secret." Bilbo planted his hands on his hips. "I was interested to see how it would end. Though I'll be honest, I thought you wouldn't catch on to what I was doing. Suppose I could've been a bit more on the nose..."

"That may have helped." Thorin chuckled, guiding the Mirkwood bracelet to Bilbo's wrist, and Bilbo did the same to him with the Shire one. They laughed at the absurdity of the whole ordeal, then fell into a tender hug, and when they parted---Thorin placed a kiss on Bilbo's forehead. Bilbo stood there in his arms for a moment, taking in the action, before standing up on his toes to meet his lips with the dwarf's. Behind them a crowd of whistles and cheers and cat-calls came to celebrate, which soon enough ended in the whole company charging in to make a large group hug that swallowed them whole.

[vixstarria]

Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

AO3

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.  

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.  

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.  

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it. 

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group. 

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.  

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.  

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.  

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.” 

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.  

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?” 

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said. 

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck. 

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.  

Shit. 

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.  

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said. 

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!” 

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.  

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.  

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart. 

“We have a system,” Tav replied.  

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart. 

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day: 

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.  

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.  

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted? 

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...   

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso. 

Then she stirred.  

Shit. 

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer. 

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist. 

Perfect... 

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort. 

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.  

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart. 

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.  

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.  

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.  

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.” 

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale. 

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap. 

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued. 

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.  

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.  

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.  

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.  

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further. 

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.  

It couldn’t have meant anything.  

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.  

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.   

And then everything that followed after... 

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins. 

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous... 

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.  

‘Mark me as yours’ 

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy... 

‘Yours’ 

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.  

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted. 

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.  

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.  

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.  

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.” 

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed. 

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.  

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky. 

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..? 

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.  

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious. 

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.  

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow. 

Nothing.  

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers... 

You were laughing.  

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!” 

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme. 

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.  

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.  

“What have you got there?”  

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.  

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered. 

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?” 

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.” 

“To the hilt?” 

“Is there any other way?” 

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.” 

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound. 

None of them want me there. 

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

Delightful. Simply delightful. 

“It will be funny!” 

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.” 

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick. 

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips. 

Not in the least. 

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.” 

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice. 

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.  

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.  

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.” 

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!” 

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap. 

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire. 

You would endure the prattle of your companions.  

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.  

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.  

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders? 

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.  

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

[cupidford]

A Case of You by silvergirl

Johnlock Love Letters #2343

Sherlock is marrying an American, and at the rehearsal dinner, best man John makes a drunken love confession he doesn’t remember the next day.

[slutforpringles]

Okay, so it's not a pure case of; we're getting rid of Perez, now we're seeing which one of these two drivers is more talented. There's money involved. So Lawson had backing. And from what I was told before they replaced Perez, both Tsunoda and Lawson would have been expected to bring money. So it would have been a combination of who can bring us some results, who brings in some money. So that means Lawson's team and Lawson's management were pushing to get that Red Bull seat, after 12 races over two seasons where he'd never had preseason testing, he'd not fully bedded in. They chose to expose him to that situation. They chose to expose him to that scenario as quickly as they possibly could. I think this was this was greed, not money=wise, but greed opportunity-wise from the Lawson team to push for that. It was the wrong thing to do. They ruined his career pushing for that Red Bull drive. See, I think a lot of this has to do with this is what I was saying before or everything will happen, which was I never thought Yuki was going to get the Red Bull drive because he's a Honda driver. Lawson is a Red Bull driver. So if Lawson had the money, they're going to put a Red Bull driver in over the Honda driver. Now they've seen an opportunity to take 10 million quid more from Honda and gone, alright, we'll stick the kid in and see what he can do.

Sad times to realise that the second Red Bull seat has become a glorified pay driver seat. 🤐🫠

via: Missed Apex

[thatswhatsushesaid]

psa that the day there are no jgy stans left on tumblr dot com is the day i am dead

but rest assured i'll go to my grave exactly as i lived: obnoxiously proclaiming to everyone within earshot how great lianfang-zun is. narratively, metaphorically, spiritually. sexually, too, like why limit myself. i like to keep my options open

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

I hate not-Painted Verso because he makes me too aware that you can't write on anything that isn't yours and have it be faithful. Writing from not-Painted Verso's pov is not only impossible because we can only know him with limits, but also because it'd echo back to the fact we write him how we interpreted him to be. That wouldn't make us any different than Aline and Renoir. That is not to say the creation we come up with won't be worth celebrating. It just means saying it's Verso feels weird and fake because we don't know him