#though it's technically set after the tattoo one

[verdemoth]

Perseverance! Rookie member of the EEG’s field research team. She’s a nerd-jock newbie who wants her idols to like her sooooooooooo bad.

-> Biology major with a particular interest in ecology! And bugs she likes bugs. And really all sorts of fun crawly invertebrates.

-> Perse is no stranger to the EEG headquarters, she’d been coming here for years before her official admission to the team! With two older relatives to shadow, she got to know a lot of the older members during her frequent visits. She greatly admires all of them.

-> She maintains some terrariums to raise and study copepods and amphipods. As well as several potted plants.

-> Perse has the same level of passion discussing a new and as of yet undocumented species as she does showing off the cute little house moth that almost gave Maven a heart attack.

-> She’s a hobbyist photographer with a Leica 1(A) 35mm. She’s into wildlife photography, and though her work isn’t very technically impressive, you don’t need to be an ace at something to have fun with it!

-> Perseverance maintains that she is NOT a nerd like her cousin, Maven, is a nerd.

-> She’s very athletic and energetic. She enjoys a daily jog, and plenty of exercise both indoors and outdoors. She loves going on hiking or full on camping trips with her uncle Phoenix.

-> She and Phoenix are very close. They’ve got a really easygoing and playful dynamic, with plenty of in-jokes built up between them. Phoenix was a constant in her early life, almost a third parent. He’d often visit to play with her and to babysit so her dads could enjoy a free evening every so often. He still dotes on her as much as Perse will let him get away with, but he respects that she values having a more adult relationship now. Still with plenty of fun, of course!

-> Perse and Maven weren’t really around each other as young kids, but became friends as they got a little older. Maven’s scientific leanings led to Perse finding and developing her own passion for study and exploration. Maven and the rest of her family have been nothing but supportive and nurturing, and she’s grateful for it. But she wants to make sure they know she’s not just a little girl anymore, and she’s ready to be the one offering support when needed.

-> She’s more than willing to get her hands dirty and to do ‘boring’, menial work. Especially if it means the people she looks up to see how diligent and cooperative she is :)

-> Perse is very needlessly competitive, though in a lighthearted sort of way. She doesn’t mind taking a loss, because it’s more about the challenge than the winning. It’s about the thrill. But don’t expect her to go easy on a challenger, because she still plays to win. Game night is a disaster

[kiradrinkalot]

The sun is shining

The weather is nice and warm

...and there are people everywhere cutting grass

Let the allergy season begin.

Oh and I got a discount on the next tattoo I get lol

All because of some banana boxes

[hairmetal666]

Steve who goes on a Bake Off type show after Robin, Dustin, and Max set him up as a contestant. He doesn't want to, doesn't think baking or cooking should be stressful, but he's been wallowing since his knee surgery took him out of work and basketball, since his divorce.

His first day on set, he's totally gobsmacked by the sexy host with all the tattoos and long, curly hair. Just, cannot take his eyes off the guy, blushing and stammering whenever he comes around to do interviews, obviously can't stop starring.

After the first day, where he manages to stay comfortably in the middle of the pack, he calls Robin to complain about what a mess he becomes around this gorgeous dude.

Her response is to cackle and say, "Steve! How do you not know who Eddie Munson is? Oh my god, you're a disaster."

Turns out, Eddie Munson is the lead singer of Dustin's favorite band, Corroded Coffin, and also pretty well-known for his dnd YouTube channel. He's been a host on the show for years, only Steve doesn't really pay attention when the others watch it and didn't know.

Eddie, for his part, is losing his mind. He'd known about the beautiful contestant for this season, former college basketball superstar turned coach, having a hell of a shitty year after dislocating his kneecap in a charity game. Eddie--foolishly, it turns out--thought he wouldn't be as attractive in person. He also expected Steve to be terrible and egotistical, a jock through and through.

So, when Steve Harrington walks into the tent in a short-sleeved polo and obviously ironed jeans and is still drop-dead gorgeous, he's fucking flabbergasted. And then Steve has the audacity to be nice? Kind and thoughtful and running to help other bakers when he still has work to do himself? He also blushes so pretty, high across his nose and cheeks, and god does hewant to be the reason Steve blushes like that.

Eddie is beside himself.

Leading up to the second week, Steve schools himself into being calm around Eddie. He can't afford to lose his cool like that every time the host is around. Except, this week Eddie flirts with him shamelessly. Winks at him, leans into space, calls him "m'lord" with this deeply resonant voice that makes Steve want to drop to his knees. Steve doesn't mean to, not really, but he flirts right back, feeding Eddie tidbits of his bakes and looking for any excuse to touch him.

Steve does well for the first half of episodes. He never wins the technical or star baker, but he's regularly within the top contestants. On episode five, though, something is off. He's distracted, forgetful, doesn't leave enough time for his custard to set in the signature. Eddie asks if he's okay, but Steve shrugs and smiles, says "off my game today."

But then, in the technical, he curdles his buttercream more than once, and his genoise sponge burns. Eddie watches as Steve folds his arms above his head and disappears from view. He doesn't hesitate, he sprints from his interview, falling to his knees in front of the contestant.

"Stevie, sweetheart, what's going on?"

"I get migraines," Steve whispers. Trails of wet streak down his cheeks. "I've felt one coming all morning, been trying to stave it off but--"

"Okay, okay," Eddie shakes out his hands. "You can sit out this challenge, yeah? Or take this weekend off. It happens. You'll come back next week--"

"I don't want to stop." More tears fall from his eyes.

"What do you need?"

Steve shakes his head, wry little smile pulling at his lips. "Time to breathe."

Eddie glances up, eyes catching on the camera crew hovering in front of them. He throws both middle fingers up and says, in the most reasonable and even tone, "fuck!" Everyone in the tent looks at him, but he doesn't stop. "Shit!" "Bitch!" Motherfucker!" He goes on and on, saying the filthiest series of things he can think of. The camera crew steps away, another contestant brings Steve a glass of water, and Eddie sits with him.

The other host announces that there are thirty minutes remaining in the challenge.

"Well. That's that, then," Steve says. He stands, patting the naked skin of Eddie's knee where it shows through the rip in his jeans as he goes.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Out of time, no cake, no buttercream."

Eddie hops to his feet. "You're going to let that stop you?"

"Well." Steve laughs. "Can't serve this." He gestures to his discarded bowls of frosting, his burnt cake.

"You have time to make another buttercream."

Steve raises an eyebrow. "Sure, but not the cake."

"Cut the burnt off. Cover it in the buttercream. Easy peasy."

"Okay..." Steve stares at his station. "Okay, that could work. It won't be pretty, but--"

Eddie, knowing he's no longer needed, steps away, and Steve gets to work.

Steve tells Robin all about it and, as soon as he gets home from the taping and she's immediately like, "Eddie Munson, huh?"

He shoots her a look. "It's nothing."

"Yeah, him leaping over a table to check on you is surely nothing."

"Robin," he warns.

"What?"

"Eddie would never want a guy like me."

She laughs but quickly grows sober. "Steve. Of course he would. He likes you."

"It's nothing, really." He walks towards the kitchen. "What do you want for dinner?"

Eddie experiences the same harassment from his band members and their manager.

"You're gonna ask Harrington out, right?" Gareth asks.

"That would be a little bit of a professional conflict of interest," he deadpans. He doesn't look up from his guitar.

A puffed Cheeto smacks him square in the forehead. "Hey!" He shrieks.

"He means once the season is done, Edward," Chrissy says.

He wipes the cheese dust from his forehead. "Not a good enough reason to call me Edward. Anyway, I'm pretty sure he's straight."

Jeff guffaws. "C'mon, dude. No way. He's so into you he might as well have a neon sign."

"He divorced a woman."

"That doesn't mean anything, and you know it," Chrissy says.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I may be considering asking him out. Maybe."

Everyone cheers. More Cheetos hit him in the face.

---

To Steve's great surprise, he makes it to the finals. Not just makes it, he gets a star baker, gets first in the semi-final technical. He's baking in the final and might have a fucking chance.

It's with great surprise, once it's all said and done, that he hears his name announced as the winner. He doesn't have much time to process it, because Eddie is striding towards him. He's not carrying the cake stand trophy or flowers, it's just Eddie.

Eddie who stops in front of him, eyes shining. Eddie who leans in and whispers, "I knew you could do it, baby, I'm so proud of you." Eddie who twines his fingers through Steve's hair, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss.

The internet explodes as the season airs. Everyone is obsessed with Steve and Eddie. They have fics on ao3, a dedicated tumblr community, edits, playlists, gif sets, a ship name all dedicated to them. The fandom grows after episode 5 airs. Not all the footage makes it, thanks to Eddie, but they still witness him tenderly taking care of Steve and directing the cameras away. Fans start scouring their social medias, looking for any hint of their relationship status; even beg them in comments and DMs to reveal if it was just a showmance.

Eddie and Steve, however, are happy in the quiet little world the carved out for themselves after filming. They aren't ready to reveal anything, even hints, whether or not the show would let them.

Then, the final airs and the kiss is revealed to the world. The ending title cards show a picture of Steve with the rest of the season's bakers and the caption, "Steve threw a party for the other bakers..."

The picture then changes to one of he and Eddie, arms wrapped around each other. This caption says: "...at the home he shares with his boyfriend Eddie."

That night, in bed, Steve says, "I'm really glad Robin and the kids made me go on the show. But do you think it's bad that the thing I'm happiest about, way more than winning, is that I met you?"

Eddie places a slow circle of kisses in the dip of Steve's lower back. "Sweetheart, I'd be disappointed if you said anything else. Now, hush, I have a baking champion to congratulate."

[draconic-desire]

A Dance With the Dragon II — Mates

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II — You are here] [Part III] [Part IV]

Neuvillette brings you to your new “home”, which also comes with new challenges.

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, forced imprisonment, Neuvillette accidentally goes a little feral here, brief non-con at the end

One of the first things Neuvillette did was move you from the apartment at the Palais Mermonia (your prison for the past four centuries) to his personal residence. Securing his palms to your waist, he teleported you directly into the foyer of the massive home.

The interior was splashed with blues and whites that matched the Chief Justice’s own color palette. The upper walls were decorated with friezes depicting various marine creatures, from floating otters (how ironic) to bobbing seahorses. A grand spiral staircase led to the upper floor, while a set of double French doors connected the foyer to a massive living room adorned with plush love seats and armchairs, tasteful artwork of Fontainian landscapes, and enormous windows that overlooked the sea. It appeared the house was set into a cliffside, with the waves battering the rocks far beneath you.

You paced into the living room, running your hand along the blue silk couch cushions. To your left, a door led out to what appeared to be an inclosed courtyard with a miniature fountain. To the right was a closed door, a familiar dragon carved into its exterior. Your arm burned in resonance.

Though you were loathe to admit it, the place was beautiful.

“Do you like it?”

Shifting your gaze to him, it was clear that Neuvillette was desperate for your approval. Ever since he let you outside to discover the true length of your imprisonment, you had rarely spoken a word to him. Clearly, your silence had done a number on him, as the normally composed man was fidgeting nervously.

When you kept quiet, Neuvillette cleared his throat. “I admit, part of why things took so long was due to my insistence that everything be perfect for your arrival. I rearranged our bedroom perhaps a dozen times, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what your personal room should entail.” When you glanced out towards the fountain, he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, that was a…sentimental addition. It makes me think of how we met.”

You’d never forget that Archons-damned fountain. If only you hadn’t been so naive. Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, go away.

Neuvillette extended his palm towards you in what appeared to be both a peace offering and an order. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Suddenly your feet appeared very interesting. What were you supposed to say? This technically was your home now, like it or not. You’d become painstakingly familiar with it with time. Although you weren’t imprisoned within the Palais as before, your new life still promised shackles nonetheless.

“Could you just show me my personal room?” You sighed. “I’d prefer to just rest after that.”

Neuvillette smiled softly, relishing the sound of your voice. “Of course.”

Twisting his fingers through your own, he led you towards the dragon door. Once again, your hidden tattoo pulsed with energy. It felt like a pull forward, a welcoming embrace. You realized then that there must be some sort of warding spell on this room, likely meaning only you and your captor could enter.

Marvelous.

Pushing the door open, Neuvillette swept his arm gracefully through the entrance. “After you, my love.”

You stepped in and immediately went still.

For in every direction around you was rows upon shelves upon stories of books.

Neuvillette had build you your own personal library.

And not just that. You noticed that entire sections pertained to your personal interests—marine biology, photography, even your personal favorite genres of novels. A separate door labeled Dark Room promised an avenue for you to pick up photography again. Similar couches and chairs as the living room were arranged around a huge coffee table, and a cracking hearth added to the cozy atmosphere.

Your throat bobbed. You had always dreamed of owning a room like this, a place where all your passions converged. But to have it under these circumstances…you didn’t know how to react, torn between frustration and a grateful little voice in the back of your head that you buried at once. No, I didn’t earn this. I don’t want this. It was forced on me.

All you could choke out was, “This is…mine?”

“Down to the last book.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “I spent the most time on this room. Over a century to get it right.”

You startled. A century? Your heart stumbled, but your hands fisted by your sides. So much given, yet what had it cost you?

Shaking your head, you simply said, “I’d like to be alone.” Connecting your eyes with his, you could see his hurt, the expectation of a grand reaction on your part that you refused to indulge.

However, the look was quickly wiped from his face, for he must have seen something broken in your facade. A muscle in his jaw feathered as he approached you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. “I understand you must be overwhelmed. I’ll leave you to explore,” Neuvillette said, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading for the exit.

“Neuvillette?”

Said man turned back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Why me?” You grabbed your arm where the shadow of your draconic tattoo hid. “Why…all this?”

His gaze immediately softened. “My dear, we have centuries for me to show you.”

~*~

It was times when Neuvillette was vulnerable that it was hardest to hate him.

He had returned home after a long day at court to find you sitting in the courtyard on the edge of the fountain, peering up at the night sky as if the stars held some answers. Moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, and if he didn’t already think you a goddess, he would have pledged himself to you then and there.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too involved in your own thoughts. True to his word, Neuvillette had given you time and space to enjoy your new (cage) home. You had to admit, it was a major upgrade from the Palais, and you knew the Iudex would continue to let you explore Fontaine, if you tolerated his presence beside you. However, you knew this dance wouldn’t last—it was only a matter of time before Neuvillette expected something in return. It was abundantly clear that he desired your affections, but how far would he go in order to sway you? To fully make you his?

A sea breeze whipped around you, eliciting an involuntary shiver to rip up your spine.

A sudden warmth enveloping your form brought you back to reality. Blinking in surprise, you peered up to see the Chief Justice smiling softly at you, his purple irises sparking with longing and care. His elaborate attire was gone, leaving only his pale undershirt.

He’d given you this coat.

“I…thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from the man.

“Do my ears deceive me? Did my dear (Y/n) actually acknowledge me?”

Your grip on his robes tightened. “Don’t mistake my words for kindness. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

A sigh. “Despite what you may believe, I’m not a monster.”

You deadpanned. “You’re quite literally the Hydro dragon.”

“Archons above,” Neuvillette whispered, glancing up at the sky as if it held the key to winning your heart. “I was referring to a monster in the definition you humans use.”

“What? You mean like a man who would kidnap and imprison an innocent person—”

“Considering you are not in the Fortress of Meropide, I’d hardly consider this imprisonment.”

“What, have I offended you?” A scoff left escaped you. “If you want to play house, at least own up to your actions. Don’t pretend you’re some sort of gentleman.”

Neuvillette was silent for a beat, his mouth a thin line. Unexpectedly, his muscles relaxed as he released his tension. He lowered his large frame, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right.”

You sketched a brow in surprise.

Neuvillette trained his eyes on his palms, facing upwards in his lap. “I understand neither what it means to be human, nor what it means to be a god. I was given this duty to protect and uphold the laws of Fontaine, and yet I cannot save those who need it most.” His fingers formed fists, and his lids closed solemnly. “Carole, Vautrin…all of the others I have failed…”

You worried your lower lip. Although he had already informed you of his friends’ fate in your absence, it was still a raw wound for the both of you. Yet the anguish in Neuvillette’s eyes twisted your heart. How could a man be so duplicitous, so capable of both justice and blind obsession?

As if sensing your conflict, Neuvillette gently took your face in his hands, tilting your chin so that your eyes locked once again. His eyes danced with silver sparks of emotion, like cracks of lighting across a dark sea. A thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“So if I can protect but one thing, one person, I will do it.”

~.~

You often noticed that Neuvillette’s horns got stuck in his robes.

Honestly, it was kind of humorous. In the beginning, watching him struggle gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. You’d take any circumstance that inconvenienced him, however petty that might be.

But today, seeing the Chief Justice pouring over a case regarding the protection of Fontaine’s sea life at an ungodly hour, head propped on a fist to keep him awake, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic when he emitted a low hiss as his horns tangled into the ornamentation of his attire once again. “Damned human attire,” he cursed.

Neuvillette wasn’t an inherently bad man. In fact, your own case aside, he had invoked significant and positive change in Fontaine’s legal system. He judged cases fairly and prudently, working himself ragged each day to ensure the nation’s safety. It would have been admirable to you in any other circumstance.

You didn’t know what possessed you when you stepped behind him and carefully untangled his twin blue horns.

At your touch, Neuvillette immediately froze. His heart rate skyrocketed and his mind went blank because you were touching him.

And not just anywhere, but his horns. Unbeknownst to you, a dragon’s horns were the most sensitive part of its body, only to be handled by itself or its mate. One brush was akin to a lovers embrace, the whisper of a kiss, the hot breath shared between partners in the thralls of passion. Not only was the touch intensely intimate, it was also an acknowledgement—an acceptance of the male’s advances onto his partner.

Oh, if only you knew how many times he had fantasized about this, your acknowledgement of him and his love for you. Although his rational, human side knew your touch as unintentional, the dragon within Neuvillette reared and roared against his skin, demanding to be set free upon its mate.

“Your horns were caught,” was all you said as you settled back into the sofa, flipping to the marked page of your novel.

If you had looked up, you would have witnessed the Iudex gently touching his horns in awe. He swore he could still feel the brush of your palm against him, shivering delightfully at the mere memory of your touch.

Little did you know that your simple act of kindness would unleash the storm.

~*~

The one unfortunate deviation of your current accommodations from the Palais Mermonia was Neuvillette’s unyielding insistence on sharing a bed.

You had foolishly thought escaping him, even if just within the confines of your shared home, would be simple. You believed the library, what he even referred to as your room, would be your bedroom as well. Despite the lack of an actual bed, the plush couches and ever-lit fire provided more than enough comfort to lull you to sleep.

But when you had opened your eyes, you were mere inches away from Neuvillette’s shirtless, sleeping form.

You had assumed it was due to the draconic symbol guarding the room; perhaps it linked you to him more than you had thought. So, the next night, you decided to sleep in the parlor instead.

Only for your hopes to be shattered the next morning when you awoke not only in bed with your captor, but with your limbs entwined.

Anger, shame, and a touch of something you couldn’t quite place—something not entirely unpleasant—flooded you as you tore yourself out of his embrace. How was he doing this? Was it magic, or would he physically carry you to bed each night?

This pattern repeated itself. You would pick various places around the huge house to retire for the night. However, you would wake up in bed next to Neuvillette each morning without fail.

You had even reverted to your previous stubbornness and slept on the ground a few nights, but to no avail. It seemed you were bound to his bed.

Tonight, you decided to face the issue head-on. You stormed up the stairway and into the spacious bedroom, ignoring the pain in your lower back due to all the errant surfaces you had tried to sleep on. The downy pillows and lush, cream comforter practically begged you to surrender to the king-sized bed and its occupant.

Instead, you halted at the foot of the bed and crossed your arms. “You have to stop this.”

Neuvillette immediately looked up from the tome in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He hadn’t yet changed out of his white dress shirt, and the buttons revealed a hint of his toned chest as he set the book down. “And what exactly are you demanding I stop?”

You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could say all of this,” you waved your hands around, as if that would convey the entirety of the situation, “but I mean putting me in your bed each morning.”

“Our bed,” he corrected, as if that were the issue.

“No, your bed. Are you really telling me that with all this space, you can’t just let me sleep alone?”

He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them on the nightstand. “I could, but I don’t want to.”

You seethed. “Well, I do.”

Neuvillette’s violet gaze pinned you with something like hurt. “Have I truly done something to upset you? It seemed as if you were settling into our new home quite nicely. Our conversation and touches were…” His throat bobbed. “Pleasant.”

You narrowed your eyes and bit out, “Don’t take any of that as complacency. You’re still a monster.”

Neuvillette flinched in response and, for just a moment, you felt a piece your heart falter. That is, until he whispered, “Mates don’t sleep apart.”

The room went utterly still.

Your voice came out as a breath of air, but the words were clear: “I am not your mate.”

It was then that you noticed the claws emerging from his fingertips, piercing into the sheets under his form. His eyes flashed silver, dangerous as knives. You could have sworn you saw a pair of elongated canines as he grit his teeth. “You have no idea how difficult it has been,” he breathed, voice tight, desperate.

On instinct, you took a pace back. You suddenly felt like a cornered animal, unable to avert your gaze from those claws that looked ready to tear into you. Clearly you had misjudged the situation—the Hydro Dragon was a starved, deadly predator, and you were practically served on a silver platter as its next meal.

Icy panic raced through your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, so out of control and inhuman. Trying to mediate the situation, you put your hands up in surrender. “Neuvillette, listen to me. Just calm down.”

You had hoped that saying his name would do just that, but it seemed to only rile him up further. The Chief Justice of Fontaine actually growled in response. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. “You deny your mate, and now you’re telling me to simply calm down?”

Another step back. Just put out the fire and deal with the consequences later. “I apologize for being confrontational. I think it’s best if I just go—”

Before you could react, Neuvillette pounced forward and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you onto the bed. You released a cry and tried to scramble away, but he spun you around and pinned your back against the mattress with his muscular frame. He loomed above you on all fours, his hands gripping your arms and applying just enough pressure to hold you still without hurting you. The glint in his eyes, however, promised pain that was yet to come. You were the prey about to get its throat torn out.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You struggled, heart skyrocketing at the feel of his arousal pressing against your core.

"Something I’ve needed to do for four hundred years," he growled huskily, his breath fanning your lips moments before they slammed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, predatory. Obsessive. You could feel the release of each year, each century, as his mouth devoured yours. You arched your back in an attempt to get away, but Neuvillette was quicker. He lifted your form easily and slammed your back against the bed once again. At your gasp of shock, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You fumbled around for something, anything that you could take purchase of. Your arms were pinned, but you were just barely able to grab onto the first thing and tug: his horns.

Neuvillette moaned, a deep, throaty sound that sent heat flooding through you.

It was in that moment you realized your mistake. You recalled how some marine animals with horns had millions of nerves within them, making these appendages a source of sensory stimulation. When you had started adjusting his horns after they were getting stuck, it must have been like touching his—

Oh, fuck.

Neuvillette released you arms, grinding against your thigh. “Do that again,” he begged, though it came out as more of a growled order.

“Neuvillette, stop—” An involuntary whine escaped your lips.

Your lewd noises only instigated him. His movements became more erratic as he slid a clawed hand up your leg and to your core, which was protected by only a nightgown. You jerked as his finger pinched your clit, eliciting another whine.

Neuvillette’s eyes sparked with heat, dual purple flames that devoured your form. “That’s it, my dear. Let me take care of you.” He bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out. He was marking you before he took you fully.

“Tonight, you become more than my wife. You become my mate.”

~*~

You laid there limply in Neuvillette’s arms. He peppered you with kisses and whispered words of protecting you and lofty dreams of your future together, but it fell on deaf ears. None of it made you forget about the bites along your neck or your throbbing core.

You couldn’t believe you had let his kindness fool you for even a second.

You had to escape this prison.

[liminalmemories21]

Ficlet (911 - Buck/Tommy)

Inspired by this thirst trap

(and @cecilyv said this was sufficient unto itself and didn't need to go further)

He's three hours into a 48 when he gets the first one.

He's used to a string of texts, voice messages, videos from Evan when he gets back to base and has time to check his phone.  Doesn't think twice about clicking on this one.  Stares at it open mouthed, and then hits play again immediately.

Lucy peers over his shoulder and gives a low whistle.  "Damn."

From across the break room Garvey calls out.  "Share with the class."  When Tommy flips him off he adds.  "It's your duty."

He looks up at that.  "It's my duty to share the thirst traps my boyfriend sends me?"

Knows it was a mistake when Garvey gets up and comes over to lean against the back of the couch to try and see his phone.  He twists his head.  "Didn't know you played for this team, Garvey."

Garvey shoves at his shoulder.  "I don't, but I'm bored, and I wanna see what's making Donato's eyes bug out."  And, well, as thirst traps go it's ... well he's not sure what it is, but it's not showing anything Garvey couldn't see if he showed up at the 118 gym, so...  He hits play.

It is, technically speaking, a thirst trap.  Evan is shirtless, just wearing thin well worn sweatpants - and, Tommy suspects from how low they hang, nothing else.  Acres of skin and tattoos on display.  He's also vacuuming.  Garvey blinks at him when the video ends.  Finally says, in a faintly shocked tone.  "Kinky."

Tommy has to laugh.  Doesn't think much of it.  Except, there's another one waiting for him when he gets back to base.  This time Evan's folding a fitted sheet.  Tommy recognizes it as one of his, and then recognizes the edge of his couch behind Evan, and realizes he's used the key Tommy gave him a few months ago to go and do his laundry.  To be fair Evan'd had an equal hand in getting those sheets dirty, but still the thought of getting to go home at the end of his 48 to clean sheets, and clean towels, and neatly folded laundry, and, knowing Evan, a fridge full of neatly portioned food is ... it makes something warm curl and stretch in his heart, like a contented cat.  He doesn't need to be taken care of, he's been on his own for decades.  But, someone who wants to take care for him, that's something he'd been starting to think he'd never get to have.

They come at irregular intervals after that - Evan baking, Evan washing the dishes, Evan setting up coffee - always shirtless, always in those low slung pajama pants that get lower with each video.  If Garvey keeps looking over his shoulder eventually he might see something that'll scar him.  Tommy will enjoy it though. 

Garvey peers at the one of Evan washing dishes, and says dubiously, "And this does it for you?"

It does actually, to an embarrassing degree, but he doesn't actually feel like sharing that particular fact.  Lucy unexpectedly comes to his rescue, elbows Garvey sharply.  "Nothing is hotter than a man who does housework."

Garvey looks skeptical.  "Yeah, you think Carol would think it's hot if I did the dishes just wearing my boxers?"

Lucy and Marcus both snort.  Marcus slaps Garvey on the back.  "Garvey, you do the dishes without being asked and Carol's gonna call me and ask if you had a head injury recently she doesn't know about."  Which is rude, but fair.

He texts Evan / you're getting quite a following over here / .... / you might have to start an OnlyFans page /

/ Only fan I'm interested in is you / is the response he gets back instantly

[felassan]

John Epler in the BioWare Discord (August 7th, again) -

User: "Since the dialogue wheel is coming back, will our choices set our Rook as diplomatic/humorous/aggressive with varying tone and voice lines similar to Hawke being able to be blue/purple/red?" John: "Not to the same degree - we want to give you the freedom to play your Rook differently depending on who they're talking to (you might be kinder to your companions and brusque with authority figures, for example), but your tone choices will have an impact within a conversation and, sometimes, with specific characters across multiple conversations." --- User: "I have to ask: how muscular can we make the elves?" John: "Reasonably so. You won't be making any massive bodybuilders but like... Timothy Olyphant?" User: "As a follow up what about humans and qunari? Quite muscular a la arnold or big viking type? Or not so much that lvl?" John: "Larger lineages (Qunari, esp) are bigger by default so the upper bounds are going to be bigger, but for modeling and animation we did want to put some limits on it. But your Rook can look pretty reasonably muscled, regardless of lineage choice." --- User: "Are there any time-sensitive quests (in terms of gameplay time, that will fail automatically if not addressed in a timely manner), and if there are please tell me they're at least indicated as such in some way?" John: "There are quests that can go away and technically 'fail' if you don't address them - but, to be VERY clear, this is not an in-game timer, but rather as you progress the game's story forward. That said, we do try to sign post them as much as possible." --- User: "Does Rook ever get the choice to cuss?" John: "Yes. You'll know when you're doing it, and we leave it up to you to make the choice, but sometimes, cursing is exactly what the situation demands."

[character limit text break!]

User: "Does the bioware team read the other channels and if so do they think we're unhinged or endearing?" John: "Little of column A, little of column B. But I mean, I've been online for 27 years, the internet has ruined me as much as anyone." --- User: "all the Rooks we've seen so far are wearing purple, please tell me we dont have to wear purple" John: "Everyone else can wear whatever colour they want but you, specifically, must always wear purple." --- User: "All the games have had unique faction symbols for our protagonist (Warden, Champion of Kirkwall, Inquisition) I assume there will be one for the Veilguard Will the symbol for it get released before the game or is this something that will be revealed in-game/after it’s launched?" John: "Every faction has their own symbol - including the Veilguard themselves! You may have noticed it in some of the art out there." --- John: "As a general comment - one thing I want to be super clear on - even as creative director there are things I can say, and things we're not ready to talk about. I'd rather spend my time answering what I can instead of a dozen 'sorry I can't talk about that yet' - especially since this channel is on slow mode." --- User: "There are blood effects in combat after Rook hits an enemy. And I think a developer shared images of the blood effects on hit after the reveal. Will characters be covered in blood or other environmental effects? Like getting wet from walking in puddles or muddy from running on dirt?" John: "There are environmental effects that persist on characters, depending on the environment you're traversing. They're subtle, but they're there!" --- User: "how many tattoos can we choose from? are there also full bodied ones too?" John: "I don't know the exact number, but there are quite a few. Some are full body as well, though you have control over colours and opacity on a more granular basis."

[character limit text break!]

User: "Of the zones/areas revealed what was the most challenging to design?" John: "Each has its own unique challenges. Arlathan seems simple because - well, it's a forest, right? But what about Arlathan makes it different than places you've been before? How does it fit into the established lore? Minrathous is a different kettle of fish because we've talked about it extensively and in a way that meant it HAD to be grander and more impressive than anything we've built before, which can be a tall order. The team did a fantastic job on all the areas, though." --- User: "which faction has the best fashion, in your opinion?" John: "Crows. Largely because 'black leather and feathers' isn't a look I could pull off in the real world but I am glad my Rook can." --- John: "Alright folks. I've gotta head back to work, but please keep asking questions and I'll answer what I can as soon as I can!"

[source: the official BioWare Discord]

There was also this question and answer:

User: "Can we name our saves like in Origins?" John: "I had to double check because I was about 95% sure on the answer, but also, I've been on this project for its entirety and sometimes I remember features that we had to cut (or never actually built) - yes. You can name your saves to reduce confusion."

but the answer may have now been deleted.

[greenunoreversecard]

HEYYEYHEY CAN I REQUEST LLOYD (ninjago) HEADCANONS PLEASEEEE (ty :3)

A/N: Ofc!I'll do general character ones, as well as x reader ones :) hope ye likey likey:pp

Lloyd, The Greenest and Geekest mf.

General character headcanons:

Half Japanese half Chinese

His hair is box blonde dye and you cannot change my mind.

Left handed

Severely dyslexic and hands off all scroll reading and just reading oriented tasks to kai.

Def gen z vibes. Like, the others give off more inbetween z and millenial, so they dont always get his humor. And sometimes he uses that to his advantage and "Speaks in code" (uses as much slang as possible)

Has LED lights in his room set to forest green.

Has given himself a smiley face tattoo.

Cried over a dead goose once.

OK, just to preface i see cole as a stoner of Sorts and uses the excuse "it gets me closer to my element"

With that in mind cole let lloyd try it and now sometimes when he is told to unwind, of feels like he needs to take a chill pill he and Cole spark up

in the beginning of his leader ship role, he used to Say;"kick ass and take names" and if things went wrong he had the fuck it we ball mindset, but got better with time. There are still times they wing it, though.

if he isnt in his gi he almost exclusively wears his pajamas (aka a Hoodie, tshirt and sweats)

Vv tired, and now has a raging addiction to energy drinks due to his lack of Sleep.

He used to eat worms as a kid bc he Thought he it was evil.

Has a eyebrow piercing, and wants a tongue piercing.

Wears "reading" glasses, that he should technically wear all the time because he can't see up close and has a astigmatism,, but he says yolo. Zane then make him contacts after he almost ran into a moving blade and got his head severed.

Adhd and OCD, as well as the normal line up (anxiety, depression, cptsd)

Lloyd in a relationship:

Hes very distant in the beginning, it'll take time to warm up to you.

He tends to be orage cat vibes.

On the cat trend, he gets close for a bit Before becoming distant. Going through waves of affection, kinda.

He hasn't had like, any good relationships in his life so he tries to "protect" himself when he feels he gets to close to you, and so he pulls away.

He does the fuckboy face when your sad bc it makes you laugh, as well as That weird dice roll

He actually does the face/dice roll combo whenever he Sees you as he walks over, it's an inside joke now

primary giving love language: acts of service and quality time

Primary receiving love language: gifts and words of affirmation. But physical touch is also high up there.

Also, not expensive gifts. He hates those. Give him a stick you saw on a walk that made you think of him. He'll cherish it forever. And maybe cry.

He will cry.

will make noises at you and expects a noise in response or he'll be sad.

Also randomly bites you. He's a nommer

also sends you memes throughout the day.

As well as random pictures with the caption;"BABY LOK THIS IS S. US IF WE WHERE *insert whatever item here*

Called you babe, baby, love, shitface, asshole.

Expect kind and loving gentle bullying.

Doesnt know how to express his emotions to just expect him to come up to you, lightly shake your shoulders and aggressively say;"I love you bitch.i ain't Evea gon stop lovin you. Bitchhhhhhh" (vine reference)

Sends you .5 of everyone, himself included. He's addicted to Taking them. You will not get out of it.

Also sometimes just walks around in nyas stilettos for fun.

You two have fashion shows.

You also take over the Living room sometimes and build giant ass forts to watch shitty reality tv in and make fun oF The people

Overall, once he realizes you won't leave he's the most funniest loving chaotic guy.

But expect it to take a hot minute for him to realsie this

give him time,, but also have some deep talks..

Let him vent

and for the love of God don't hurt the baby's heart.

Expect inside jokes

[petertingle-yipyip]

STRANGER - KAZ BREKKER

//tags: @beekeepingageissome // an: i really hope i can pull this off. i anticipate this being 2-3 parts. right now, we’re set before the Ice Court. also i’m picturing danielle rose russell as the character. lmk if we want this as an OC or reader// next part

Pairing: kaz x rollins!reader (enemies to lovers) [no Y/N used yet]

Word Count: 5,892

Summary: Her father’s action led to the death of her only two childhood friends, Kaz and Jordie Rietveld. Only Kaz returned as the infamous Dirtyhands. Creating her own gang in the shadows, she considers allying with the Bastard of the Barrel, only it goes about as well as anything could with Brekker.

It all seemed so far away, the first time you had met Kaz and his brother. Years ago that seemed to be another life. And maybe it was. You had left your father not long after that. When you heard that Jordie and Kaz - or at least two boys that fit their descriptions and matched your sketches - were picked up during the Queen Lady’s Plague collections, your stomach had pitched.

You were only a child, the same age as Kaz give or take a few months, and his brother seemed a good boy. They ate dinner with your family, played with you and your dog. You and Kaz had come up with games late into the night until Jordie took him home.

And then suddenly, you and your family were out of the house. You didn’t understand but you didn’t question it. You never saw the boys again but it was easy enough to hear of who had died of the sickness and who hadn’t. And it didn’t take long to find out how.

Your father used an alias and rolled the boys for their money. They had nowhere to go except the streets and it killed them.

Well, one of them.

Kaz had managed to pull through, but the boy that came back wasn’t the boy you knew. He had changed and you weren’t sure if you had expected him to be the same. When you left your father, you had seen him around the Barrel. You considered talking to him but the unbridled anger in his eyes kept you at bay. Instead, you decided to bide your time. Build your own empire. And in time, you would offer Kaz a deal and take down your father together.

Leaving Jordie and Kaz to die killed not only one of the Rietveld brothers, but it killed you as well. You existed only in stories to him. Pekka Rollins’ only daughter, fled home as a young teen, building up a gang of her own.

You changed your hair, colored it a midnight shade of red, and cut bangs. You kept the rest braided and pinned. You wore a hooded cloak when you went out during the day. You never spoke your name in public. But you did help yourself to your father’s money.

Your money, technically, since it was placed into an account in your name. You withdrew from it once a month, never letting the balance fall beneath the initial. It filled the coffer of your growing gang, choosing a snake as your branding. Your father had Dime Lions. Kaz had the Dregs. You had your snakes, though a fitting name never came to you.

You were on your way to attempt a meeting with the Dregs’ Heartrender, Nina Zenik. She held occupancy at the White Rose, and she was not an easy woman to schedule with. Nor was she cheap. You were leaving the bank, your latest withdrawal under your cloak, when you saw him.

You’d seen him in passing over the years, heard all the stories of what he’d become. Dirtyhands Kaz Brekker. The Bastard of the Barrel. Some said he was a demon. Some called him a monster, a wretched boy with only bones for fingers. He was Death, the Reaper who sent his Wraith without remorse.

You had to remind yourself to breath when a hand clasped your shoulder.

You spun quickly and a hand went to the small knife in the sheath sewn to the inside of the collar.

“Boss has been looking for you.” A familiar voice said. You didn’t know his name, but the voice was one from your childhood. You didn’t miss the lion tattooed on his forearm. “He’ll be happy to see who’s been taking his money.”

You narrowed your eyes but remained quiet. You yanked your knife free and sliced the forearm of the hand touching you, cutting right through the Lion. Decapitating it. You would’ve stayed and admired your handiwork had you not been on a mission.

So you ran.

You worked through the busy crowd until you somehow ended up at Kaz’s side.

“I need your help.” You stepped in front of him. You hadn’t even realized it was him until you stood face to face.

You couldn’t have picked anyone else?

“You’ve come to the wrong person.” He shook his head.

“It’s one of Pekka Rollins’ men.” You tried urgently. “They’re looking for his daughter.”

That got his attention but he tried not to show it. It flashed across his face for a split second, a momentary sliver of the young boy you knew.

“Isn’t she dead?” He said flatly, as if it was a fact. “I sure hope so.”

“She’s not.” You said sharply and dared a glanced behind him. Your father’s goon was making his way through the crowd a few feet away. “But I’m guessing you’ll kill her if you get the chance.”

“In front of her father, yes. Maybe slice her open from her sternum and watch her heart stop beating.” He nodded, tapping the beak of his crow against the base of your throat, then paused to study your face. Your heart sped up and under your cloak, the grip on your knife grew tighter in an effort to not bat his cane away. It was already stained with the blood of your pursuer, and you weren’t above adding Kaz’s if he recognized you, but you were praying that Sankta Alina would help you avoid it. Never one for religion, but her story had always stuck with you. “What do you know about her?”

You lifted your chin slightly. “Why should I tell you anything?”

He leaned down slightly and you reflexively stepped back. “You came to me, remember? Unless you’d like me to leave you here for your friend back there.”

You sneered slightly before answering. “She’s alive, in the Barrel. She’s been building her own gang, using her father’s money for it.”

Kaz’s head cocked in interest.

“He has an account open for her and puts money in every week. She empties it every month or so.”

“A fool’s errand.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leaves a paper trail, on both sides… Why is she still here?”

“Why do you think? She wants to get rid of her father.”

“Why?”

You checked again and the Dime Lion was closing in. You shifted on your feet and Kaz took a step to the side, turning himself slightly to block you from view. You dropped your head and blocked your face with your hand as the man passed, hoping the scene looked like a blushing girl hiding her embarrassment. You sighed with relief and almost thanked Kaz.

He didn’t do it for you. You’re useful to him now is all.

“How do you know this?” Kaz asked after watching the Dime Lion for a few more seconds.

You replaced your knife and unbuttoned your cloak to pull your collar and show the snake tattoo winding across your shoulder. You fixed your clothing back to position and Kaz studied you silently.

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, Brekker.” You nodded.

He stood dumbfounded as you continued on. It took only a moment before the shock wore off. Kaz watched you go, his confusion burning to anger. He was mad that you had so much information yet gave so little. He was mad that you knew him, yet he knew nothing about you.

But what infuriated him most was that you were vaguely familiar. That he felt some old reminder of who he used to be, when he was just a boy with his brother. He also thought of Jordie with a shudder. He hated that you had some memory connected to his brother and he swore that he would get his answers, even if he had to cut them out of you.

When you were finally able to get in with Nina, it was a relief. She went into what seemed like a rehearsed spiel while you undid your cloak and draped it across your lap as you sat. You reached into your boot and pulled out the specific pile that was intended for her. You dropped it on the table and it silenced her.

“I didn’t come for the Heartrender, Ms. Zenik. I need the Dreg.” You began calmly. 

“The Dregs?” She tugged her sleeve uncomfortably. “What is this, a test from Brekker?”

“Not at all. I just ask that you deliver a few things to Kaz.”

“A delivery?” She laughed. “Drop it in the Post like every other lovesick girl that thinks they can fix him and move on, Dear.”

“He has a fan club?” Your brow quirked. You knew it was a joke but you wouldn’t be surprised if there was some group of girls that were fawning over Kaz. He was very pretty after all. “This isn’t a declaration of love or a marriage proposal. More of a… heads-up.”

“If this is a threat-“ Her hand raised and quickly lifted your own in defeat.

“I’d rather try my luck against his Wraith than face you.” You admitted. “I’d like you to hear me out, Nina. Please, you can turn me away and keep the money after. I’m sure every cent helps towards your Fjerdan project.”

Hesitantly, she lowered her hand 

You flipped your cloak and withdrew the small envelope from the main pocket. You held it out to her and waited until she opened it before you spoke.

“All I ask is that you get these to Brekker. He’ll know what they mean.” You said calmly, though your heart was racing. You wondered if she could tell.

“Drawings?” She looked up from the papers to you.

“She’s quite proud of those.” You smiled slightly.

It was a small collection of portrait sketches. A few of Kaz as a kid, one of Jordie and Kaz, and a few of Kaz in recent times.

“There should be something else.” You nodded and she shook the ring out of the envelope.

“Hmm, are you sure this isn’t a proposal?” She joked.

She examined it carefully, turning it at different angles and holding it close to her face. She slipped it on her own finger - it was so small, it barely fit her pinky -  and your jaw tightened.

“Who is this she you mentioned?” She asked, looking back to you.

“He’ll know.”

“I could just keep this ring, you know. It’s quite adorable.”

“You could.” You agreed. “But that’s a risk she was aware of. Truthfully, I didn’t think you’d care much for a child’s keepsake ring. Besides, it was either you or the sharpshooter, and I’m sure Jesper Fahey would’ve found some parlor that’d give him a line of credit for it.”

“It’s Grisha made, isn’t it?”

You rubbed the fabric of your cloak between your fingers. That had cost you quite a pretty penny. “Yes.”

“Must be a very well off child.”

“She was.”

“Merchant’s daughter?”

“Not quite.”

She quickly grew tired of your avoidant answers. “So what happens if Kaz gets all this?”

“He can do what he wishes with the papers. Those are only a part of a collection that needs to be downsized regardless, but the ring is what’s important… She’ll come for it when she’s ready.”

“She plans on waltzing up to Kaz and demanding the ring?”

“No.” You smiled. “She’ll simply take it back, almost like a placeholder.”

“She’s mad if she thinks she can rob Kaz Brekker” Nina laughed, and you had to admit the sound was rather infectious. “But I’d love to see her try.”

“Can I trust you with this, Ms. Zenik?”

She mulled it over and had to tighten your hands into fists around the fabric of your cloak when you saw your ring was still on her finger. You knew you couldn’t take it back. Not only because it was part of your plan, but because she’d stop your heart as soon as you stood.

“I will, but only because I'd like to see how this’ll play out.” She nodded. “But what about the Wraith?”

You stood and fastened your cloak into place over your shoulders.

“He’ll send her for you and whoever sent these.” She warned.

“Trust. She expects as much.” You added over your shoulder as you left the room.

It took a few days but the unmistakable feeling of being watched from the shadows seized you as you were returning to your small dwelling. You ducked down a different alley, weaving your way through crowded passageways until you finally got to an empty, secluded area. Bold to lure the Wraith deeper into darkness, but you couldn’t risk anyone else hearing your words.

“I’m surprised he waited so long.” You said flatly and lowered your hood. To anyone else, you were talking to yourself. But soon after, her dark clad figure came from the shadows and you faced her bravely. “Hello, Wraith.”

She held up her hand and your ring tumbled out, tied around a string attached to her wrist. You stared at the small piece of jewelry for a moment and the chain around your neck you usually kept it on felt too light. You missed the light weight against your chest, the way it would bounce off your bones when you ran or trained.

“Ah.” You forced a smile. “I see Nina made good on our deal. I should thank her.”

“What business do you have with Kaz?” She finally spoke and her voice was level, void of any sort of emotional cue. You had to give it to Kaz. He trained his Dregs well.

“What business does he have with Pekka Rollins?” You countered. You knew it all, every minute detail, but you wondered what he had told her.

“Nina said that you work for someone else.” She changed the subject, wanting control of the interrogation. “An unnamed girl with Grisha connections.”

“Hmm.” You shrugged. “What did Brekker tell you when he sent you after me?”

“That you work for Pekka Rollins’ daughter.”

You tilted your head side to side in thought. “I suppose, in a way they’re both correct.” You conceded and flicked your cloak over your shoulder. You watched her hand fly to the knives at her ribs and you smiled innocently. You shifted your shirt collar and tilted your head away, waiting for her to see your tattoo. She squinted into the darkness but her hand slowly fell away. “I’d like to live long enough for the reunion, Inej.”

Her eyes went wide and she took a step back. You fixed your cloak over your shoulder and held out your empty palms.

“Yes, I know quite a bit about Brekker’s favorite Crows.” You said simply, keeping all malice out of your words. “Nina Zenik, the Heartrender at the White Rose with a Fjerdan friend out at Hellgate. Jesper Fahey, remarkable Zemeni sharpshooter with a tendency to wring out his coffers across the Barrel. You, Inej Ghafa, formerly Tante Heleen’s Lynx turned ghost story, utilizing those Suli acrobatics. Then there’s the Fjerdan himself that Brekker keeps tabs on, and the new one, the young demo expert.”

Wylan Van Eck - though he had an alias of his own - but you didn’t dare to say that. You wondered if Wylan would recognize you, but you had only seen him in passing years ago. You weren’t sure he knew that much about the Barrel in general. But given the fact that Kaz didn’t recognize you, you doubted Wylan would when you thought about it.

“How long have you been watching us?” She asked, squaring her shoulders and tucking the ring away. You were sad to see it go.

“Off and on.” You shrugged. “Truthfully, I just needed to establish a pattern before I could get that to him… He did get it, didn’t he?”

Her head cocked and you knew she heard something in your voice. Hope, or desperation maybe, and you cursed yourself for it.

“No.” She said smugly. “Nina delivered it to me.”

“Then I assume you have the same motives as she did, interest in what’s happening here.” You realized. “Tell me, Wraith. Has Kaz ordered my death yet, or am I still a target?”

“I believe the word he used was investment.”

“Investment… You know you won’t get anything from me. You’ll go and report back to Kaz with how much I know. If you two haven’t already, you’ll go over the ‘paper trail’ of her account and see it’s been tapped out, which’ll only serve as proof to what I’ve said so far. I’ll wander the Barrel, wasting nights at a gambling table while I bat my lashes to use someone else’s money or I’ll sample the menageries to pass the time. You or Brekker will get restless and pause your pursuit. And when none of you are looking, I’ll go back and you won’t see me again unless I want you to.”

You recognized a flash of silver and realized she drew a knife. You hadn’t even seen her hand move but you hid your shock by lifting your chin defiantly. You would not yield, not cower from Inej. You folded your hands in front of you, under your cloak so you could reach your pistol.

“I don’t want a fight, Inej.” You said honestly.

“I don’t intend there to be much of one.” She countered smoothly and the blade shifted in her hand. “I come as a warning. Keep her snakes away from us.” She said, adding extra venom into your gang’s patron.

“Us?” You instigated. “You bear no Dreg tattoo, Wraith. How can I be sure you’re truly aligned with them?”

“Doubt be again and find out.”

“We don’t want a war.” You reasoned.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. You and your shadow boss will not back the Dregs into a corner. Brekker won’t he-“

“I don’t fear Kaz Brekker.” You said firmly.

“Then you’re more of a fool than he thinks.” She snapped. She glanced around as if someone was listening, but no one in Ketterdam dared to watch the confrontations in the alleys. “Pride will be your downfall before he makes a move.”

“He wants to dismantle everything Pekka Rollins has.” You reasoned. You weren’t why you wanted so badly to convince Inej that you weren’t Kaz’s enemy, but when you thought about it, you knew he’d see you that way regardless. You worked for Pekka Rollins’ daughter. Actually, you were Rollins’ daughter. You’d be dead the second he found out. “She wants her father’s empire to burn as well. Why fight?”

“Do not come to the Dregs again, snake.”

“Is that a threat?” Your brows raised.

She smiled and her hand was a blur as the knife flew at you. You barely hid behind your cloak in time. You felt the blunt force of the knife against your cheek, thanking the Saints, before the blade clattered to the floor. You peaked out and another came, skating across the back of your hand. You yelped and clutched the wound to your chest.

Before you could react, she was on you. She had you by your cloak and slammed you against the nearest wall. You felt the distinct tip of a blade under your chin and you were quick to pull your own. You pressed it against her abdomen, grabbing her other arm to keep her close. You ignored the burn of the cut and righted your grip.

“The thing with snakes-“ You began and smiled. “We can wait. Bide our time until conditions fit us. We won’t back the Dregs into a corner, but you won’t flush us out either.”

Her eyes darted between yours as she tried to read your expression. Or maybe she wanted to remember your features. Either way, you acted. You slammed your head forward and collided with hers. She stumbled back and her blade fell away. You flicked your cloak to add to her disorientation before you kicked at her chest to knock her down.

Then you ran. 

It took a few more days before you saw either of them again. You had seen a Healer in that time, someone who wouldn’t give their name or let you look directly at them. Why they were in hiding you didn’t know or ask. They repaired your hand and that was all you needed.

You were wandering the streets when you saw her silhouette in the alley you passed. Moments later, she was on the rooftops above you, following. You dared a glance but as soon as your eyes turned that way, she disappeared. You knew she wanted you to follow so you sighed to yourself, checked that no one else was looking - of course they weren’t - and ducked down the alley.

You went as deep as you dared but there was no one else, only the faint tap of a cane behind you. You nodded slightly and put your hands up in surrender. You flipped down your hood and turned, facing Kaz straight on.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” You began innocently, though you added a bit of roughness to your voice. If Kaz was going to recognize you, you weren’t going to make it easy for him.

A soft thud of landing behind you but you kept your focus forward.

“Will you come quietly?” Kaz spoke simply, as if it was obvious you were beaten. You quirked a brow and considered how the fight would go if you chose it. One of them you could take, but winning against both of them wasn’t likely.

“You say that like there’s a choice.” You sighed. “I know when I’m out-gunned, Dirtyhands.”

You slipped your fingers under the opposite sleeve and slid the hidden retractable blade strapped to your wrist out. You tossed the cuff to Kaz and he caught it with the crow’s beak of his cane. While he examined the small device, you held your pistol to Inej, who took it without a word. You tapped the toe of one boot on the ground, then the other, and felt the blade shifting against your leg. Glancing up, Kaz didn’t seem to notice the movement but the gentle kick to shin told you Inej did. With a huff, you pulled it out and handed it over. All you were left with was the small blade at the sheath under your cloak’s collar, but you wouldn’t give that up.

Only an idiot gets taken hostage by the two most lethal Dregs unarmed.

“Nice to see you again, Wraith.” You said teasingly. “Although this isn’t much of a fair fight, is it?”

You put your hands up again and offered Kaz a sarcastic expression. He was stone faced as usual, though he nodded to Inej over your shoulder. Your brows furrowed and as you turned, the side of your head was slammed into the nearest wall.

You woke up tied to a chair in an office/bedroom with an empty chair across from you, Kaz’s cane resting against the seat. Your head was pounding and you could feel your pulse beating in the new wound, growing as the room came into better focus. Your cloak was thrown across the desk, your wrists tied tightly to the back of the chair with scratchy ropes, your ankles were tied a lot looser. You shifted in the chair to test the integrity and wondered how hard you’d have to fall for it to break.

“About time.” He complained from somewhere behind you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do your usual hostages regain consciousness sooner?” You spat back, craning your neck to find him. “Should’ve brought your Heartrender if you were that impatient.”

Kaz was making it very hard to try for an alliance with him. At that moment, you wanted to kick his pretty teeth in.

“You’re not worth that much trouble.” He waved you off and you saw the infamous black gloves.

“Enough trouble for you to come and get me. What made that decision for you? Was it when Inej couldn’t do it herself?”

“Are you certain she wanted to?”

“Could’ve fooled me, but according to her, I’m a fool anyways.” You shrugged as best you could. “What's with the gloves?”

His leather-clad hands tightened into fists and he looked down at them for a moment, contemplating. You wondered what was going through his head, but you’d never know. His expression was as blank as ever and you cursed his self-control.

“You didn't wear them before.” You continued. “When you were a boy.”

“You know quite a lot, Dear.” He said simply and made his way in front of you. He moved his cane and sat, stretching his legs in front of him.

“Been around a while.”

“Who are you?” He leaned in a bit in interest. You were something new, something potentially dangerous, and he wanted to learn everything he could about you.

“A stranger that knows so much about you, Kaz Rietveld.”

His eyes narrowed and shifted the cane between his hands. You eyed it carefully, knowing the dangers that object held especially in Kaz’s hands. It could break bones, numb limbs, slice through skin. You’d be lucky if he didn’t use it on you, but the daunting silhouette of the crow’s head didn’t stop you from talking.

“You and Jordie… Her drawings are the spitting ima-“

The sharp beak of his crow topper sliced down your cheekbone and cut your words short. Your head snapped to the side and you cried out slightly, fresh blood slowly dripping down your cheek. You stared back at him angrily, new and sudden rage burning in your stomach as he stood over you.

“You don’t get to say that name.” He said viciously. The rage in his eyes made you worry he’d kill you there. “What did she tell you?”

“You can beat me all you like.” You said firmly. “I won’t break.”

“Then you’ll die.”

He pulled a knife and you shifted in your seat, pushing back as far as you could. One of his covered hands landed on your shoulder while the other pressed the blade to your throat. Your eyes darted in a panic and you noticed the silver chain around his neck.

“The ring.” You breathed and the knife froze. “You have the ring. You know she’s out there.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He pulled the blade, causing you to wince, and you felt a thin stream of blood from your neck. He took up his cane with the other hand and tapped it against the floor, punctuating his words.  “I do, however, doubt you’re as steadfast as you claim.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head. “I’ll die before I give up anything on my snakes. You think I don’t know what you do to people you don’t like? I’ve heard all the stories, Dirtyhands.” You laughed. “I wouldn’t risk their lives just to save myself.”

The cold crow’s head came under your chin and forced your attention to him.

“Your snakes?” His head cocked and your eyes went wide with panic for a moment. Leave it to Kaz to pick up on your one rhetoric mistake.

“I serve as her lieutenant. The snakes are as much mine as hers.” You covered, but he didn’t seem convinced as you jerked your head away. “Are the Dregs not as much yours as they are Haskell’s?”

“The Dregs follow me.” He said firmly, an air of leadership and confidence around him. If you didn’t have a gang already, you would’ve asked him to take you in as well. “This will go one of two ways. You answer my questions and you can burrow back into whatever hole you and Rollins’ pathetic daughter are hiding in with minimal injury.”

You spat at his feet. He swung the cane at your ribs. You wheezed as the air left one of your lungs.

“Or I can flay you piece by piece until you’re unrecognizable, covered in tears and your own blood, and I still get what I need.”

“You’ll get nothing from me.” You rasped and shook your head.

“Or…” He trailed off, wagging his finger as if a new idea came to him. “I can simply keep you here, wait until she finally shows herself and then drag her kicking and screaming to her father’s doorstep.”

“And do what?” You dared to ask, though you had a feeling you knew the answer. “He won’t care. He gave up on her years ago.”

“If that were true, he wouldn’t have an account for her.” Kaz shook his head. “Yes, I looked into it and, as I mentioned, the paper trail was easy enough to pick up. But I must admit, the trail to you was quite the dead-end. Well done.”

“He’ll laugh in your face if you bring her to him.” You continued, but the air you breathed left the faint taste of blood in your mouth. “She ran out on him. You think he’d want to see her again?”

“Oh, I think he’s still hoping she’ll come home.”

The wicked look in his eyes told you all you needed.

“To protect his secrets, maybe. She knows every trick he has.”

“Secrets die with those who keep them.” Kaz mused as if it was his saying. “And the only ones worth keeping aren’t worth a life.”

“Oh, Saints.” You complained with your head dropped against the back of the chair, eyes cast upward. “You know no one is going to come for me, don’t you?”

Silence. Just the threatening tap of his cane on the floor.

“Her and I agreed that if either of us get caught by you or her father, we wouldn’t go looking for the other. It’s a good way to get us both killed so we sacrifice the other if push comes to shove.” You looked back at him. “And you’ve shoved.”

“No one is coming?” He asked. The question seemed innocent enough but the menacing way he spun his knife in his hand proved otherwise.

“Our secret dies with the other.”

“Meaning no one will hear your screams? You’ll cry out and plead. but no one will come… I almost feel sorry for you.”

“Hang on.” You tried and he pressed the knife to your collarbone, a few inches to the side of your snake tattoo. “I-“

“Giving in already?” He taunted.

You needed something to get the knife off of you, something to distract him. He didn’t seem all that interested in anything about your alleged leader. Maybe he knew all he needed about you on that front. Was there something you could ask him instead?

“She feels guilty.” You confessed suddenly. “About you. About Jordie.”

You flinched at the look he gave you.

“I don’t know who he is!” You lied quickly.

You hated that all your control, all your pose and power, fell away while you were strapped to the chair. You were helpless, at the mercy of the Bastard of the Barrel, the most notorious and merciless person in Ketterdam. Maybe you were out of your league.

“I’ve only heard the name… She says her father took everything and she wishes there was something she could’ve done. She wants to make things right.”

“Make things right?” He asked lowly before a rough, disbelieving chuckles left his lips. “Can she suddenly raise the dead? No, you see, she was a child. Just as I was. But breaking her in front of her father, taking the one thing he yearns for, now that just might ‘make things right’.”

“What happened to you?” You said desperately. “What changed?”

“The boy that girl told you about is dead.” Kaz explained carefully, as if saying those words took more effort than anything he’d ever done. “Kaz Rietveld is dead.”

“She doesn’t believe that.”

“What’s that old saying? Like calls to like? Believing that makes her more of a fool than you are… Where is she?”

“She’s in the Barrel.” You confessed carefully. The knife hit the ground but before you could feel any relief. a heavy fist connected with your jaw. Blood filled your mouth and you knew you but your tongue, hard.

“Tell me something I don’t already know.” He said, his voice holding a dangerous edge.

“No.” You managed through gritted teeth. “What will you do, hunt her? You’ll never find her.”

“What makes you think you haven’t led us to her already?”

Your mind raced. Had he or Inej seen you go to your most recent safe house? It was possible that he had been trailing you longer than you thought, but if that was the case, he’d know that there was no girl in the shadows leading the snakes. It was you.

It was a bluff.

“So string her up instead of me.” You sneered and shifted your feet, just able to brace your toes against the floor. “I tried to be civilized here, Brekker. But you know what I’ve learned?”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re just a man. And all men can fall.”

His brows furrowed slightly and you threw yourself backwards. The chair hit the ground and broke with a loud crack. You got to your knees and were fiddling with the ropes that bound your wrists to the fragments of the chair when you had to drop to your back, the heavy crow’s head swinging past where you head would’ve been. You yelped and rolled to the side as it crashed into the floor in a high arc.

Finally, you freed your hands. However, the crow’s head landed against your same side again and the impact had you falling to your face. You coughed roughly and the ragged breathing and shooting pain had you fearing that your rib was broken.

With a whine, you climbed to a kneel.

Your eyes darted to your cloak before surveying for an escape route. You could go for the door but it was obvious and you knew the place would likely be crawling with Dregs. You weren’t getting out that way. Your only other option seemed to be the window.

You got to your feet and charged. You threw punches at Kaz, hardly any of them connecting. You growled slightly in annoyance at his ability to block your hits so you threw your elbow instead, smacking it to the side of his jaw. You followed it with a hard hook then a few body shots. You wanted to end it so you threw a hard kick for his head but he caught it.

He tilted his head in disappointment and you saw the blossoming red marks across his features. You watched his elbow lift, on a path to the side of your knee, and you reacted. You jumped and threw the other foot. It connected with his jaw and you both fell to the floor. You cried loudly and you landed on the rib.

You forced yourself up, ignored the dangerously threatening pain as you stood straight, and dashed for your cloak. Beneath it was the rest of your weaponry. You collected it in a hurry and climbed through the window.

“We’ll meet again, Kaz.” You warned, crouching in the windowsill. He had rolled to his back and you saw the cut your kick broke near his eyebrow. “Come for me before that, I’ll burn the Dregs to the ground.”

Then you were gone.

[writingsbychlo]

WHAT HAPPENS IN VELARIS | azriel

summary; what happens in vegas? what happens in velaris. or, what happens the morning after two blind-in-love best friends get married while black-out drunk at a starfall party?

word count; 6733

notes; okay, I know starfall week is technically over, but the end of my week got real busy unexpectedly, so there are another few fics to come which we'll technically count. shhh.

You awoke with a startle, the familiar feeling of a shadow stroking over your cheek, but unfamiliar for the morning. Your eyes snapped open, sunlight pouring in and burning your eyes at the brightness, a hoarse groan leaving you. As you dragged yourself up in bed, darkness exploded around you, a dizzying kaleidoscope of shadows whipping around the room in a flurry that made your stomach twist. 

“Az, make it stop.” You groaned, and he stirred a little, groaning himself. At your words, though, whether you or him, the shadows began to calm, gracefully blocking out the light coming from the window and setting the room back into peaceful semi-darkness. Propping yourself up a little further, the man snoozing at your side huffed, wings tucking in a little tighter as he began to rise. 

“Why are you in my bed?” He groaned, twisting to grab a pillow and slam it over his face, and you rubbed at your eyes, before turning to face him properly. 

“You’re in my bed.” Scanning your eyes greedily along his bare arms, a thing you could later blame on this raging hangover if you were caught, your breath stuttered when you properly took him in. Not just bare arms, but bare chest. Rippling muscles peeking out from here the covers had slid down to his waist, swirling tattoos and dark chest hair. Your gaze roamed a little further, a squeak leaving your lips before your hand slammed over your eyes. Bare legs, one hanging out from the edge of the covers now, draped over the side of the bed like his wings. “You’re in my bed naked! Why are you in my bed naked?”

“I’m what?” That caught his attention, the man sitting up almost ramrod straight, back stiff and crumpled, lazy wings flaring a little too late to catch himself in the sudden movement. His hand flew out, both of you taking a loud gasp when that hand, sliding under the covers to grasp at anything, connecting with your thigh, gripping tightly for balance. A look of sickness crossed over his face as his head presumably spun, much like yours, in an equally awful hangover. “That’s your thigh. Naked thigh. Bare skin. Please tell me you have clothes on?”

His voice rose higher and higher in pitch, eyes fixed determinedly forwards as you glanced down at yourself, lifting the covers to check. “Yes…” His shoulders sagged a little, head daring to turn to you. “Sort of?”

“Sort of, what-” His jaw dropped, eyes visibly widening a little as he stared at your chest, and you smacked his shoulder. His cheeks reddened, but he didn’t look away. His voice was much raspier when he spoke next; “Cute bra.”

“Azriel!” You yanked the covers up, covering yourself from the neck down, and that blush spread to his ears as he finally met your gaze. He only shrugged. Reaching a hand under the covers himself towards his crotch, you were ready to chew his head off, before he was letting out a relieved sigh. 

“I have my boxers on still.”

“Oh, okay. So, we didn’t…” You waggled a finger between your bodies, and that blush that had started to fade gained colour on his cheeks again. You were sure your own face was just as warm. 

“No, I mean, surely we’d remember if we did… that.”

“It’d be pretty hard to forget,” You mumbled, hangover clouding your brain enough that you didn’t quite realise your eyes were roaming down his chest again until he cleared his throat, the muscles of his chest flexing a little as he did. You’d pretend until your dying breath that the sight didn’t make your mouth dry a little. 

It didn’t change the fact, however, that you could get used to waking up like this. Sure, you’d seen Azriel shirtless before, many times. Just like he’d seen you in bikinis in Summer, or scandalous dresses that arguably revealed more than this when you visited Hewn City, but that didn’t make it any less domestic. This wasn’t causal beachwear, or training, or a mission. This was home, this was comfy mornings when he should be smiling and kissing your forehead and asking what you want for breakfast. It all made your throat pinch a little.

Azriel’s lips were moving, he’d been saying something and you’d trailed off into daydreams. Snapping away the small smile from your lips, your attention moved to him. “What?”

“I said, maybe we should get dressed, and I can try to sneak out before anyone notices us in the halls.” Normally, this wouldn't be such a challenge, because you only had Nesta and Cassian to deal with, and they’d likely sleep in late today. The problem, was that following last night’s Starfall party, Rhys and Feyre were here with Nyx, Mor and Emerie, Elain and Lucien, Amren and Varian, and probably a couple of party-goers just now rousing themselves enough to leave. So many people to hide from, and your head pounded at the mere thought.

“Good idea.” You rubbed at your temples, even the sound of the sheets rustling around him was grating on your eardrums. But, you couldn't pass up the opportunity for just one more look at him, before he was gone, and would doubtless avoid you for days to come as the awkwardness settled. As he stood, he flexed his arms up and over his head, wings fluttering in a loose stretch, and your eyes widened. The garbled sound, something between a gasp and laugh, that fell from your lips was beyond your control. “Your wings!”

“What? What about them?” From the tone of your voice, he tried to look over his shoulder, unable to see what you were seeing. You discarded the blanket, crawling on your hands and knees over the mattress until you could kneel up behind him, one hand cupped over your mouth. The shock had effectively eliminated any remaining headache or sensitivity, his wide eyes finding yours. “What?”

“Flare them all the way out.” He did as told, the white paint smeared across the leathery membrane was clear words to you now, and you let out a shaky breath, tracing one letter with the pads of your fingers. 

“Please don’t do that unless you want me to embarrass myself further.” His words came on a groan as you touched the flesh, and you snatched your hand back, cheeks burning hot now as you realised what you’d done. Squeaking out an apology, you stood, guiding him over to the large mirror in your bedroom and turning him around so he could see what was written there.

Painted in thick capitals across his wings in white paste, were the stark words ‘just married’. A little chipped, somewhat faded as you were sure you’d find paint in your bed for weeks now, but there was no mistaking it. “Oh my God, Az…”

He looked down at his left hand, finding a beautiful silver band there, adorning his finger and catching in the rays of sun that occasionally flickered in from between his shadows at the window. As he glanced at you, the thought lingered in the back of your mind that you were still in only your underwear, as was he, and perhaps you should care about that, but the fact he was married was pinging around the inside of your head like a pebble.

“Who the hell did you marry?” You forced a laugh out, like everything in your body hadn't gone numb at the idea.

He only cleared his throat, picking up your left hand, and lifting it up to show off the matching silver band there. “You, apparently.”

You took a moment to admire the ring on your hand, the worry inside of you at having gotten married quashed momentarily by both relief and the sheer beauty of the gem on your finger. It was a blue colour, the same as his siphons, ridiculously cheesy but somehow perfect, and exactly what you’d have picked while drunk. Dotted around it were bands of silver leaves from metal, making it look like a flower nestled amongst nature, wrapped delicately around your finger. 

The silence dragged on between you both, each of you taking a second to come to terms with what had happened. 

“Okay, I mean, this is fine. It's fine, right?” His focus snapped back to you, lowering his hand, and furrowed brows raised a little. “This is totally casual. Let’s just act normal and get some breakfast. I bet nobody knows.”

“Okay, good call…” He cleared his throat, shoulders rolling back the way he did when calculating his next move in a sparring match against Cassian, or a battle of wits with Nesta. “We eat, get rid of these hangovers, and figure out a plan later.”

“Yes!” Your voice was a little too loud, both of you wincing. “Yes. Good.”

Darting around the room, you left him there, gathering some clothes from your drawers and tugging on a pair of simple leggings and a hoodie, feet shoved into a pair of comfortable slippers, the most causal outfit you could think of for the day after a Starfall rager. He only stood, idling in the room and alternating between staring at the ring on his finger, the words in the mirror, and you.

“What?”

“I… only have that. It’s a little walk-of-shame-y, don’t you think?” He pointed to his suit, still lying in a crumpled heap on the floor near your dress, and your cheeks flooded with heat once again. 

“Right… you should go get some clothes. Do your little shadow-hop thingy.” Your hands settled on your hips, waiting.

“I can’t Rhys hasn’t removed the protection wards from the party yet.” He shifted, face that of pure concentration, and the shadows in the room pulled just slightly towards him, but quickly sputtered back to their own devices. Stupid protection wards against snooping guests. “You’ll have to go get some.”

“You want me to sneak across the palace, into your bedroom, and rifle through your draws to find your clothes?” His scowl formed.

“Yes, I want you to go across the hall, into my bedroom, a place you’ve been before, and go into my first dresser, top two drawers, and bring me some fresh clothes.”

“Snarky.” You muttered, making your way across the room. He stuck his tongue out at you childishly, before turning his attention back to the mirror. On the other side of your bedroom door, as it clicked shut behind you, the air was colder. Refreshing, clearing your head. The smell of food was already wafting through the halls, chatter in every direction but none too close, if you were quick. 

Sneaking along, around two corners and one small set of stairs - across the hall, snarky bastard - you found his room. The door was mercifully unlocked for you, and you were quick to close it behind you. It was calmer than your own, the curtains open and golden light spilling in far softer than your own as his bedroom faced away from the rising sun. It smelled like him, that perfect mix that you always found so enticing, and the pathetic hope that it lingered in your sheets for a while made your eyes roll to only yourself. 

First dresser, top two drawers. Pulling out the first, rows and rows of neatly folded sweatpants were presented to you, and you tugged out a pair of muted green ones, unsure you’d be able to handle seeing him swagger around in those sinful grey ones today. The second drawer was t-shirts, a black one to match, and you tucked them under one arm, before backing away.

The journey back to your room was just as quick and stressful, barely taking a breath until you were sealed inside of your just-married bubble with Azriel once again. 

“See? You survived the big scary trip and my big scary room. I’m so proud.” You only scoffed, launching the clothes at him. 

“You know, it’s adorable that you colour-organise your sweatpants.” His laughter stopped abruptly, scowl shot in your direction. As you gained the upper-hand once again, you took a look at him. He had a sponge in one hand, still standing by the mirror and trying to reach around himself. Water was dotted along the carpet, some of the paste smeared into grey on his back now, but he could barely reach it. You softened upon looking at him, holding out your hand. “C’mere. Come sit on the bed.”

He did as told, after tugging on his sweatpants, and yesterday’s socks with a grimace, settling on the edge of the bed. Kneeling behind him once again, he flexed out his wings, bowing his head forwards for you to start work. Carefully, you wiped down his wings, giving extra caution to the paces that made him shiver or his breath catch, until the words were gone entirely. 

You weren’t sure what possessed you, when you leaned forwards, pressing a kiss to the back of his head. “All done.”

He only turned, his face close to yours as he looked over his shoulder, and he bumped his forehead against yours once. “Thank you.” His whisper was as low as your own, and your smile only grew. Letting yourself bask for only a second longer, you peeled away, headed to the bathroom to discard of the sponge and at least give your face a cursory wash, a splash of cold water to wake you up. 

When you returned, Azriel was just buttoning his shirt up behind himself, both of you looking far fresher and feeling much more composed than you had twenty minutes ago. 

“Ready to go deal with this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, husband.” He grinned a little, opening the door and peering out into the corridor. Nobody was present to see him slipping out of your room, and so he turned back to you. 

“Now or never, wife.”

“I’d prefer never, to be honest.” Your stomach rumbled in disagreement as you stepped up beside him, both of you leaving your room behind, and his shadows darted along behind, swirling around you both like a cloak as you began your walk toward the voices you could already hear and the tempting smell of food.

Nerves were eating you alive, Azriel’s presence beside you doing little to calm the erratic racing of your heart or the beading of sweat along your spine, and so you found yourself twisting anxiously at the ring on your finger, spinning it around and around and around-

It went utterly silent as the two of you stepped into the doorway, all eyes moving to you both, scanning every footstep and breath as you moved across the room to take the only two seats still available. Pulling out the chair beside Mor, Azriel motioned for you to sit down, and you offered the best smile you could muster in response as you sank into the seat. He took the one next to you, Lucien on his other side buttering a piece of toast, and the only sound in the room was the loud crunch it made as he bit into it. 

Nobody spoke, until Cassian did; “So, how’s life as a married couple going so far?”

“So you all know?”  

“Well, you invited us all to watch,” Rhys smirked, a loud groan left you, your head falling down to burying your hands, and as laughter broke out around the table, you wanted to curl up into a ball. Better yet, you wanted to disappear entirely. Jokes quickly followed the laughter, only spurring on everyone’s amusement, and the burning of your blush was so high you were sure you were going to catch fire at any moment. You couldn't bare to even look up. 

That was, until a finger was tapping under your chin lightly. The rough feel of a scarred- fingertip telling you exactly who it was, who was guiding your face back up from the sanctity of your palms. Before you, was a plate of all your favourites that he’d gathered, and he placed a tall glass of orange juice down to match it, giving a sweet smile when your stare shifted thankfully to him. 

He nodded in acknowledgement, his smile lingering as he began to gather his food, but the moment was ruined by Feyre’s cooing as she elbowed her mate. “Oh, look, such a good husband you make, Az.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get it all out.” He sighed, fixing his usual terrifying stare around the guests at the table. “This is your chance to make jokes, while I’m distracted with food and a hangover.”

“Fuck that, I want to know the story,” Cassian spoke right over the top of any jokes that were coming, ignoring Feyre’s stare for his curse in front of her son, various sounds of shock and agreement sounding out. Once again it was quiet, all attention still hanging on your both, expectantly. 

“What story?” You raised your brows, shovelling some of the food into your mouth, hoping it would quell the rising nausea within you at the spotlight that had been thrust onto you now. 

“The story. How in the name of the Mother did you two end up getting married last night? That story.” The warrior clarified, and your jaw tightened as you tried to think. All that came up was a blur, half the night was clear and half of it was gone, right up until this morning. Unfortunately, the half you needed was the blurry part. 

Azriel, though, stiffened beside you, pausing with food halfway to his mouth. It was only a minute stutter, picking up action again hardly a second later, but you weren’t the only one to notice. Rhysand’s smile widened. “Az, looks like you might remember something. Care to share?”

He looked like he absolutely didn’t want to share, not even a speck of it, until his eyes moved to you. You wanted to know, and you were sure your face conveyed that, because he slumped a little in defeat.

“I had plans to tell you something last night.” He paused, leaving everyone at the table, including yourself, in suspense, as he poked at some of the food on his plate, and ate a little more. “I was nervous.”

“You, nervous? Must have been something important.” The look on Nesta’s face was like that of a predator hunting its prey, she was delighting in this, and Cassian chuckled by her side. You shot them both a glare, but Az never looked away from you. He looked nervous now as your attention moved back to him, the look on his face sparking something in your memory, and it was like a part of that blur uncocked just a little bit to release a memory. 

“Well, don’t you just look dashing tonight, shadowsinger?” You smirked a little, raising your glass to tip towards his as he chuckled, smoothing one hand down the front of his suit. He’d really gone all out tonight, a dark grey button-up shirt under a smart black waistcoat, tight suit pants and his best pair of boots, all shined up and ready for the party. He looked practically edible, with his hair styled for once, a single curl flicked down across his forehead. He was all but glowing under the lights, like glitter was painting along his skin, a glow in those golden eyes. 

“Well, I had to make sure I’d look alright standing next to you.” He was bold, this line you’d been dancing along in these last few months was still exhilarating, new enough that your breath rushed from your lungs in a sudden burst when he raked his gaze along you, purposefully slowly. “You look… there are no words for how you look tonight. I could list a few; stunning, beautiful, breathtaking, but I don’t think any of them do you justice.”

Your blush was so warm you wanted to press your glass against your skin just to cool it down, a smile stretching your lips as you stared up at him, even in heels. You stepped a fraction closer, his hand coming out gently, to find your one, fingers brushing your free palm lightly enough that you shuddered. Then, his smile was gone, he was nervous, a look you rarely ever saw in him. 

“I wanted to talk to you tonight. I have to tell you something.”

“Well, you have my full attention.” You hoped your tone was soft enough to melt away that panic, linking your fingers with his firmly, and his gaze dropped for a second to your joined hands. A smile flickered on his lips, his thumb smoothing over your knuckles. 

A new song played on the drums, the live band filled the room with music, and so many loud voices cheered and sang along, faelights flashing in all different colours to mimic the fall of the stars outside that would start soon. You could all but feel it like a temperature drop in the room when Azriel’s fear got the best of him. He locked up, body going rigid, eyes hard and smile turning sour.

“Maybe some liquid courage, first, hm?”

He let out a relieved breath, nodding his head, body loosening once again as he took the lead, guiding you away towards the bar.

“I remember that. You were nervous, you said we had something to talk about. I suggested we get some liquid courage.”

Azriel’s eyes glazed over a little, as though he was remembering too, reliving the moment the way you had. His jaw dropped a little, a puffed-out laugh leaving it on a breath. “Yeah… well, I think we might’ve had enough liquid courage for an entire army the night before battle.” 

Your laugh was the first one this morning that felt truly genuine, a light sparking in Azriel’s eyes at the sound. He stared, watching you giggle over the entire situation, and you’d feel self-conscious about it in front of everyone, if it didn’t make you feel so adored. That was the thing about Azriel, one of the many things that had made you fall for him so hard all those years ago, only getting worse since. 

The way he gave you his attention, the way he could make you feel like the only person in the room with a single look, the way he could make you feel special. It warmed your heart like nothing else ever had. His attention, his devotion, it was something you dreamed about, and longed for at night when you lay in bed alone, knowing he was only a few doors away. 

“So, you drank, a lot.” Feyre interrupted, Nyx giggling loudly at the way his mother had cupped her hands over his ears, as though he understood any of it. “Then what happened?”

“Another?” The bartend offered, you and Azriel already a giggling mess. You were leaning against one another, a row of sticky shot glasses lined up in front of yourselves, surrounded by bitten lime slices and split salt. The feel of his hand on your waist was like a brand through your dress, one you loved enough to place a hand over his, squeezing to keep it there. 

He didn’t, only sliding it further around your waist to yank you into his body, and your laughter stopped for a second in shock, staring up at him as he stared down, awaiting your reaction. You both melted into laughter once again. 

You could feel each deep breath he took, the brush of his chest against yours, and that laughter slowly fizzled out the closer he leaned. The bartend was long gone, the atmosphere around you both melting away into nothing more than a haze. His nose was bumping your own, dragging over your cheek, kisses without ever kissing as you shared space, shared breath. 

“We should- we should go sit down. Before I fall over in these heels.” You mumbled, and he hummed in acknowledgement. 

“I’d catch you.”

That only brought more giggles. “I think we both know, that’s not possible anymore. We’d both more likely end up sprawled out on the floor.”

He laughed too, head raising again and arm tightening at your waist. “Fine, sitting it is, but only because the floor is so dirty. Where’s our table again?”

You were mortified, fingers tracing over the tip of your nose in a feather-light touch, nothing like the way it had felt to be so close to him, to be touched by him, and the new wash of colour on his face suggested he was thinking the same thing. 

“We had some drinks, and then we came over to the table with you all.”

“Some drinks? You two drank the rest of us under the table.” Nesta scoffed, everyone laughing in agreement. Your body was already regretting everything after that first shot. “It was impressive!”

“But, also kinda’ nice.” Elain chipped in, the first thing she’d said this whole time, and she was now tucked happily under Lucien’s arm, grinning at the pair of you. “Seeing Az let go, loosen up like that. It was funny, but also sweet. I mean, I’d never seen him like that before, you bring out that side of him.”

You ducked from her stare, poking at the remnants of your food on your plate. “Pretty sure that was the tequila.”

“No, it was you,” Azriel muttered, shocking you enough that your head snapped towards him, but he was just staring at his plate, a soft upwards-twist of his lips showing his feelings.

“You challenged me to an arm wrestling competition.” Cassian cut in, a smirk on his face as you turned to look at him. 

“Did I win?”

He almost instantly regretted that question, because his smirk dropped, shifting to Nesta’s face instead as she sipped her tea. “Yeah, you did. Made all us Valkyries real proud, you can boast about it at the next training session.”

“You only won because Azriel cheated and helped you.” The General grumbled, crossing his arms and slumping in his chair. The male beside you shrugged, leaning back in his own with a cocky expression, and the two began bickering. 

A phantom feeling raced along your back as you tried to remember it. Flashes of the night, your hand clasped in Cassian’s, pushing with everything you had, another hand sitting over your own. Heat at your back as Azriel pressed himself up behind you, one arm around your waist, the other hand wrapped with yours as you both pushed at Cassian’s. His hand slammed into the table, the two of you celebrating as Cass took his loss like a sore loser.

“You also did a lot of dancing,” Mor chipped in next to your ear, practically a whisper as the men all now fought over what constituted cheating in ‘arm wrestling’. Images behind your eyes again, you and Azriel twirling across the dance floor, chest to chest again, so close you could practically taste him, laughing and giggling your way all around the room in laps for what felt like hours, until your legs were shaking and feet aching, both of you panting. “And then, the two of you were sneaking off between the pillars, laughing so much. It was adorable, you were never apart.”

Hands on your waist, pulling you away from the dance floor, like you wouldn't have followed him just about anywhere. If Azriel had asked you to, you’d have walked straight into one of the lakes in Oorid, just to see that smile on his face. He dragged you away, your back pressing against the cold stone of one of the pillars. It was a relief, your whole body hot and flushed, the cold stone cooling you a little.

It was quieter here, darker, and so much more peaceful as you were hidden away from the rest of the party. He leaned in, enough that his forehead was sat on your own, eyes closed as you both giggled hysterically. 

“Wait- what were we laughing at?” Your mind had emptied as he invaded your space, the smell of him emptying your thoughts out like scattered sand. 

“I don’t know.” More laughter took over, his body all but falling against your own as he sagged, shadows leaping in happy twirls and jumps like they were laughing too, pretty shapes around you that your eyes followed. “You know what would be funny, though? If someone spilt red wine on Eris’ suit. Who wears all white to a party?”

Azriel’s words draw loud laughter from you, bounding off of the walls between gasping breaths as you pictured it. 

“Or, if someone pranked Cassian like last year.”

You could barely breathe, arms wrapped around Azriel, clinging to him just to stay stood, and he twisted around, arms looped at your waist until it was his back pressed to the column, wings drooping either side, and you were slumped against his chest. “No, wait, I have the best one.” You pushed yourself up, one hand on his chest so you could meet his eye. “It would be so funny if Helion actually managed to convince Feyre and Rhys into that threesome.”

“What about when Mor found out, and that Helion was just moving his way through the family?”

“If they did fuck, would Lucien have to start calling Rhys ‘daddy’? Or is that only if they got married?” That seemed to be it, the two o you laughing so hard you slid down to the pillar, collapsing into a heap on the floor. You were half strewn across Azriel’s lap, face buried into his neck, his head tipped back to let the sounds of amusement flow free. 

His hair was messy now, yours the same, his cheeks pink and lips shining and he’d never looked better than he did at that moment. He lifted a hand, smoothing it across your cheek, one thumb running over your smile gently, “You know what would be the funniest, though…”

Your hand slapped over your mouth, darting to Azriel who dropped his fork, mouth dropping in shock and cheeks going the darkest shade of red yet. 

“Then, suddenly, the two of you are inviting us all down to one of the temples, and telling us you’re getting married!” Mor had no idea the moment she’d chosen to speak on, the key memory flashing through your mind of what had led to it all. “Poor Gwyn’s face, when you bombarded her with questions, asking her if priestesses held a high enough status to marry someone, and whether she’d do it right there, right now!”

“Gwyn married us?” Was all Azriel was finally able to choke out, still steadfastly ignoring your burning stare, and refusing to even let his eyes move sideways in your direction. 

“Yep.”

“Would you like to see your spectacular wedding?” Rhys offered, and it was enough to finally pull your focus from Az, moving to watch the High Lord tap at his temple in offer. He wasn’t looking at you, though, his eyes shifting to the middle distance, a look Azriel had too, upon closer inspection, and they were obviously talking. A conversation the rest of you weren’t a part of. Rhys’ brows rose, a silent question, and Azriel sighed. 

His face moved from shock, to embarrassment, to resignation, shrugging a little as his eyes came back into focus. Finally, he turned to look at you. He was nervous again. 

Taking his hand from the table, you squeezed it in both of yours, and he squeezed back, letting you settle your joint hands in your lap, never breaking eye contact. “S’okay, Rhys. Might as well get everything out in the open at once. I can’t get any more embarrassed, anyway.”

You squeezed his hand again.

There was a tapping at your mental shields, polite as ever, Rhysand made his presence known, first, A request, never a demand. You were proud of yourself for even still having them up, actually, dropping them for him to enter your mind. He grabbed onto your consciousness, dragging you into his head, to show you the scene playing through his eyes.

The giggles you’d been encased in had long since stopped, but that didn’t make the two of you any less clingy. Instead of holding hands, Rhys watched his friends cling to one another, foreheads pressed together and smiles on their faces. They looked a mess, wind ruffled from the flight here, as they all did, and eyes bright. Gwyn, slightly tipsy and utterly elated, was chanting her way through a text passage from the tome in her hands. 

Nyx was bored, tugging on his lapels as Feyre tickled at his stomach, trying to keep him quiet as they watched from the front row of the pews. He couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't bear to leave, not when he was finally watching his brother smile like that. Not when he was finally watching his best friend get the girl he was always meant to have. Centuries of sadness and pain and suffering, and finally, they’d all get to be truly happy. 

“Azriel, uh, I don’t suppose you have any vows?” Gwyn offered, the book making a mighty slam as it snapped closed, a cloud of dust leaving it and she gripped it to her chest, teal eyes bouncing happily between the two at the altar. 

“Sure, yeah. I have… something.” The speech, Rhys felt excitement bubble within himself at the speech he’d heard Azriel practising for days to tell her. “I have been trying to tell you this all night. All month. For years, actually, so, I’m glad I can finally say it.”

Chuckles sounded around him, and Cassian hooted in encouragement somewhere to his left. “Get her, Az!”

“I’m in love with you. Plain and simple. I’m so fucking in love with you, that I can’t think straight. I can’t act right. I can barely breathe when you smile at me, and when you look at me, it makes me feel worth it. Like everything I had to endure to get to this point was nothing, because you make it all right. Everything, from the scars on my heart to the ones on my hands, you make it all feel okay. You’re beautiful, you’re special, and I hope you feel even a tiny bit of what I feel for you, because if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you with everything that I have to give. And when we die one day, my soul will forever be bound to yours, following you across the winds, to wherever you want to go. Life or death, sickness or health, happiness or sadness, I’m yours.”

It was so much more than the speech they’d had planned, something truly poured from his heart, and he rubbed a hand over his chest as he watched. He watched you cry, watched tears stream slowly down your face as you gaped, and watched Azriel wipe them away patiently. 

You were overwhelmed, clearly so, and yet you reached up, cupping Azriel’s cheeks in both of your hands. 

“Some spymaster you are, huh? How did you not know I love you too? So much, Az, for years. There are so many things about you, everything about you, I just-” You cut yourself off with a sniff, lip wobbling as you stared at him, and with your confession too, Azriel was grinning. 

“It’s okay, don’t cry, my love.”

“When I stop crying, I’ll give you a real good speech too, I promise.” That drew laughter from them all, and he could feel Feyre practically buzzing with excitement against his side, could feel the overwhelm of both Cassian and Azriel’s emotions from their bond. 

“Are you sure you want to-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish that tickle of doubt, before you were pulling his face down, body flush to his as you leaned into the kiss. Your lips melded together, Azriel wasted no time in responding, and Rhysand let out his own loud cheer of approval to join everyone else’s as the deal was all but sealed. 

“Well, kiss your bride… I guess?” Gwyn teased, stepping down from the altar as the two remained locked in their tear-filled, happy embrace. With a wink of magic, Rhys was holding out his hand, a set of pretty bands sat in the centre. With another flick, the pair was sitting snugly around each finger, and at the sudden coldness, the pair snapped apart. 

Glancing down at your hands, you were busy admiring yours while Azriel’s head turned to Rhys, mouthing his thanks, before taking your hand and throwing them up in the air. 

“I got the girl! I got the girl, Cass!”

“Yeah, you did, buddy!” His friend hollered, all of them making their way up to the altar now in a stream to offer their congratulations. 

The memory fizzled out, you felt yourself being slowly deposited back into your own body, until you were blinking your eyes and taking a gasping breath. The room was silent, waiting for any kind of response, and Azriel was pushing the last of his foot around his plate aimlessly, an anxious frown sitting on his lips. Your hands squeezed, coming up empty, and finding his hand was now sitting on his lap, clenched into a tight fist so hard his knuckles were white.

“I had imagined something better for our first kiss. Preferably, something I’d consciously remember.” He still wasn’t looking at you, even as he spoke. Out of everything about this situation that made it crazy, somehow, marrying Azriel, it all seemed to make sense. Nothing about it felt wrong, or crazy, and you only wished you’d remember the beautiful moment through your own eyes instead of someone else. It was your turn to direct his attention now. 

“Yeah?” Your hand settled behind his head, sitting on the nape of his neck and rubbing lightly, until he looked up at you. Hope. Hope shone in those pretty eyes. “Something more like this?”

The moment your lips met his, gasps sounded and cutlery dropped to hit plates sharply. But, you didn’t care. Moving slowly, Azriel barely paused, before letting out a quiet moan against your lips, relief and love mixed into the sound, as he kissed back. One hand found your cheek, the other spreading along the back of your chair until his arm wrapped around you to tug you in closer. His lips were shy against your own, growing in confidence with every drag, your noses bumping, promises and affection and need shining through. 

He pulled back, for a quick breath, your lungs burning in a heady way that made you dizzy, before he was stealing more, prolonging the kiss. Vaguely, you could hear Cassian cheering, Feyre aww-ing, and Lucien chuckling. Nyx was clapping his little hands excitedly, obviously picking up on the joy in the atmosphere. Azriel’s thumb swiped over your cheek as he pulled back, a final kiss left on your still-puckered lips. 

His pupils were blown wide as he licked over his own. You smiled, hoping to maintain at least a little of your dignity and all of your innocence, before you jumped your new husband right at the table now that all of the confusion was cleared. His nose was still bumping your own lightly, lips barely brushing, and he placed another chaste kiss on your lips, need burning hot between you both. “Yeah, just like that.”

Finally, he pulled away, sparing you both any embarrassment if he’d stayed longer and you’d lost all your self-control. He was grinning stupidly as everyone stared at you both, his arm still spread along the back of your chair, fingers brushing your shoulder in aimless patterns. 

“So, what are you going to do now?” Lucien raised a good question, you hadn't really thought that far. And yet, still, as you glanced from your wedding band to your husband, you felt nothing but bliss. 

“Well, I think Azriel should take his wife on their first date, for starters.”

Azriel only nodded, turning to look at you and you swore hearts were visible in his eyes as he did. He leaned in, lips brushing your own again, a tease of a kiss that had you leaning forwards for more, and before he gave in, he simply whispered, “I’ll pick you up at six, my love.”

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 重啟之極海聽雷/Reunion: The Sound of the Providence/The Lost Tomb Reboot/this thing has too many names

Reunion (I'm just going to call it that) is a 2020 action drama about the most specialest little babygirl in the tomb-raiding world, his two husbands, and the cadre of assorted weirdos they pick up as they try to follow a set of directions left by a dead (?) man in the thunder.

Imagine if someone showed you the Mandalorian, and you were like, gee, that was a neat little sci-fi one-shot! because you'd never heard of Star Wars. That was basically my experience watching this show, having no idea that the Lost Tomb franchise (DMBJ) was even a thing. Turns out that not only is there a whole big continuity out there with these characters, but that Reunion takes place a few years after the main story's resolution. Don't worry, though -- Reunion doesn't spoil you for that resolution. It doesn't spoil you for much, period. Look, DMBJ has a weird relationship to endings, okay?

I have written a more thorough where-to-start guide for DMBJ as a whole, so if you want to consider other entry points, well, that information is there for your consideration. Yet it is my opinion that this is the best entry into the overall franchise, and a fun thing to watch just in general, and I'm here to make my case for both of those.

The rest of this rec will assume that you have no familiarity with the DMBJ series. That's okay; you don't need any. All you need is to trust my five reasons you should watch this.

1. Old Man Yaoi

As you begin this show, you are introduced to the Iron Triangle. That's them in the picture up there. Left to right, you have: Xiao Ge, magically tattooed immortal hottie who just got back from ten years in [scene missing]; Wu Xie, our protagonist, who's just a little guy and it's his birthday; and Wang Pangzi, the literal best.

(And yes, Wu Xie is in his 30s and Pangzi is in his 40s, which is not technically old man anything, but ... look, if you watch, you'll see why I think I'm justified in calling it that.)

They are extremely married. They are a disaster trio of disasters so disastrous that no one else should ever be subjected to their chaos. They're going to make sure lots of people are, though, don't you worry about it. Sometimes those people even deserve it.

However, because the show (tragically!!) decides that Xiao Ge has somewhere else to be like 95% of the runtime, most of the relationship you get to see is between Wu Xie and Pangzi.

I'm saying this now as an old gay nerd who just this year celebrated her 15th wedding anniversary: I have never, never felt so represented in media as I have watching Wu Xie and Pangzi interact. There's a little wake-up song they sing together near the end of the show, and it just ... it packs so much character development into thirty seconds. These boys have been living adjacent lives for so long that they've made up their own little shared songs about the mundanities of daily living. That is just what happens when you marry your best friend and then decide to get old and weird together. Ask me how I know.

Look, if you want to know whether this show is for you or not, watch to the end of the first episode, to the part where Pangzi flips over the table. If your heart is filled with joy (as it should be), keep going.

Love makes a tomb-raiding syndicate family.

2. A fun-filled action-packed romp of nonsense!

If you're familiar with Hellblazer canon, this will make sense to you: Reunion is Dangerous Habits. If you're not familiar with Hellblazer canon, try it like this: Reunion is a terrible place to start because it plays on your extant affection for a character who gains a terrible status effect almost immediately. It's a also great place to start because it throws you right in the action with measurably high stakes and gives you a reason to build that affection very quickly.

I'm also going to warn you right off the bat: The plot of this show got cut to ribbons by censors.

See, the DMBJ books, being books, are allowed to get away with supernatural shit! So you've got zombies and ghosts and curses and monsters and immortality and all your other standard ooky spooky semi-urban fantasy trappings. But the DMBJ adaptations, being live-action, are heavily regulated in their content. This is why, in the early Reunion episodes, our heroes are menaced by human-looking creatures that are actually ancient mannequins made of leather that are piloted, mecha-style, by evil clams. Because evil clams are more scientific than zombies. I guess.

So yeah, the plot of this book already had to get mangled into a more "science"-compliant shape even before it made it to filming. The real problem is that a whole lot more of it got cut after it was all filmed and put together. I have read an explanation of what the actual storyline was supposed to be, and yeah, if you know what you’re looking at, you can see (and hear) the scars where major elements got hacked out with a weed whacker.

Therefore: You cannot expect this plot to make sense.

But that's okay! You're not here for the plot to make sense! You're here to watch some characters you love run around through ridiculous and sometimes beautiful labyrinths, trying to solve puzzles you're never given enough information to understand, all in search of the resolution to a mystery that had half its guts torn out before you got to see it -- and you are here to love it. If you have ever laughed and cheered your way through a Mission: Impossible film without pausing to care too much about the plot holes it’s dodging left and right, you are in the correct frame of mind to appreciate this. Just believe that whatever engaging nonsense the show tells you is correct for the time being and go with it.

You cannot watch DMBJ and care about the laws of physics. You simply cannot.

Do not, however, let me give you the impression that the shoddy plotting is accompanied by equally shoddy performances. A major part of this show’s incredible watchability comes from how the cast is shockingly good. There are some serious heavy hitters among the actors. A major part of why this Wu Xie and Pangzi are my favorite together is the incredible chops both Zhu Yilong and Chen Minghao have, to say nothing of their real-life affection for one another. (See that scar on Wu Xie's neck? That scar is there because Zhu Yilong commits to the bit.) Effortlessly charming Mao Xiaotong turns potentially irritating wunderkind Bai Haotian into a perfect precious weirdo baby. Wu Erbai's entire second-season character arc could have been unintentionally comedic, but veteran of queer cinema Hu Jun sells even the undignified moments as relentlessly tragic. And of course Baron Chen absolutely kills it with...

3. This giant fucking loser

This is Hei Xiazi. That's not his name, but it's close enough. Allow me to do a dramatic reenactment of my watching his first scene:

[camera pans over to him]

me: Ugh, I recognize this kind of wannabe badass character design. I hate his type. He's self-important, hyper-masculine, and just a big jerk, and the show thinks he's soooo cool. Barf.

[thirty seconds later]

me: Oh no. I was so wrong. I love him forever now.

This is because he is (as indicated above) a giant fucking loser. Yes, he's a good fighter who knows lots of things. He's also a wet potato chip of a man. Sure, he can get you into a headlock, but he can also annoy you into submission, and that's honestly more fun for him. My wife has used the phrase “Vash the Stampede-coded” to describe him. My wife is not wrong.

And the kind of ridiculous thing is, being such a loser is what wraps back around to making him cool again. He's a loser because he just doesn't fucking care. His masculinity is the opposite of fragile. You tell him to wear a dress and makeup, he'll do it -- and sure, he'll complain, but only because he enjoys complaining. He has no dignity. He’s tits-out. He's gender. He's the worst and also the best.

Hei Xiazi is a major character in the other installations, to the point where he and his boyfriend (more on him later) even have their own movie. But of course, I did not know this on my first watch, so I kept expecting the show to explain his whole deal. It does not, but you don't really need it to. He sees better in the dark. He doesn't age. He's a thug for hire. There, that's all the bio you need.

One of the things that makes him great is that he is the least sexually threatening person ever. Across all the properties he's in, he spends a fair amount of time with women -- sometimes in very close quarters -- and they are perfectly safe around him. I actually wrote a whole post about it once upon a time (warning for tiny spoilers for a series that isn't this one) wherein I claim that not only Xiazi but Reunion in general is the television equivalent of the shirt that says I RESPECT WOMEN SO MUCH I DON'T HAVE SEX WITH THEM.

That said, this loser does get a sort-of romance plot here -- and honestly, I find it very cute! It's not even the only instance in this series of a bisexual guy in a long-term same-sex relationship getting a girlfriend, and I like that other one too! Look, the handle of my DMBJ sideblog is @katamaricule because I joked that Wu Xie treats polyamory like a katamari, and if you don't move fast enough, you're going to be rolled right up into his gay little cuddle puddle.

This is not a show for exclusive ships; this is a show for inclusive ships. The Jiumen Association is a polycule. You don't even have to know what the Jiumen Association is to know it's true.

4. The power of friendship

This show has a lot of characters.

I'd say the supporting cast is divided into three categories: characters who have been in previous installments, characters who have not been in previous installments, and characters who probably should have been in previous installments (or at least mentioned) but who were only created for Reunion so we have to pretend like we've known about them all along.

There is no way to tell which is which -- which is part of my argument that this series makes a good entry point to the franchise.

Take Huo Daofu. Huo Daofu is a brilliant doctor masquerading as a donut stand operator who treats Wu Xie with all the cold disdain of a man confronting the person who left him at the altar years ago. On the one hand, yes! We do know Huo Daofu from a previous series, and we've known he's both a doctor and a bitch. On the other hand, oh, we have no idea why he's like this about Wu Xie, and we probably never will. The show just treats it like it's for an excellent reason, and you know what, from what you know about Wu Xie, it probably is.

Consider also Jiang Zisuan. One of the show's principal antagonists, Jiang Zisuan turns out to be the brother of ... well, let's just say it's someone whose having a brother really should have come up before this. It has not come up. (And that's even before we get into the issue of his surname.) His stated identity as that person's brother is so bizarre that my favorite interpretation is that he isn't actually that person's brother -- all the flashbacks we see are just his delusions about a relationship he's completely invented. But there's no way you'd know how fucking weird this is on your first run.

Then there's our friendly little support himbo, Kanjian, who shows up to all occasions with two tickets to the gun show and not a thought in that beautiful head. (His name just means "vest," which is par for the course when it comes to the author's naming conventions.) He was a lot more menacing in the last series (where they kept putting sleeves on him, geez), where most of what we learned about him is that you can loan him out to other tomb-raiding families. Now he's a golden retriever with great aim and a slingshot. It's an upgrade.

The trick is, you cannot be surprised when someone shows up and the show treats them like you should know who they are, even when there's no possible way you could know who they are. I mean, for heaven's sake, Liu Sang arrives in the middle of an obvious beef with Pangzi, the origins of which are never satisfactorily explained, while also having a giant do-I-want-to-fuck-him-or-do-I-want-to-be-him crush on Xiao Ge, which is also never satisfactorily explained. Whatever, you just roll with it. He's got good hearing, a bad attitude, and questionable taste in idols. Now you're good to go.

(I should throw in a special note here that Liu Sang is many, many people's little meow meow, and not undeservedly. For a fuller explanation of why that is, please consult this other post I made.)

Part of the fun of this big cast is the adorable interactions you get. All the characters have appropriately big personalities, and the show loves letting people you wouldn’t expect bounce off one another. It’s not your typical action-hero show where nothing happens without the protagonist in the room. There are lots of exciting combinations and tons of charming dynamics! Unlikely friendships form all over the place! Enemies become allies! Allies become friends! Friends become friends with other friends! Some friends become enemies again! You'll need a scoreboard to keep up!

This is not to say the show treats all its characters perfectly or equally -- one of the precious few main female characters doesn't even get a real name, for heaven's sake, and the less said about the brownface racism, the better. It is, at its heart, a dude show for dudes made in China, with all the troubling decision-making that implies. Where it does deserve credit, though, is in understanding that its supporting characters are actual people with personalities apart from their function in Wu Xie's narrative. Sometimes the show just asks "what if [random character A] and [random character B] had to interact?" and has fun considering the answer! Which is almost always a delight to watch, and sometimes even breaks your heart.

5. Amazing rewatch value!

And by this I mean the experience of watching this show is remarkably different once you have any understanding of the rest of the DMBJ universe.

For instance, there's a point where two characters are scuba-diving past some submerged coffins, and one character tells the other whose coffins they are. Working only on information Reunion has given you, you're like, oh, that's where they buried the guy who built this creepy place, that's a little weird. Once you recognize that name from other series, though, your reaction is far more, excuse me, they did WHAT to WHOSE corpses?

Or another point where a character you've already met is on a train, and there's a handsome gentleman who just happens to be riding with her. He hands her his business card! Aw, that's sweet, he seems like a nice guy! Well, no, Xie Yuchen is not nice, but he is one of our allies, and he's Hei Xiazi's boyfriend, and a lot of what he's doing hits real different when you have a fuller grasp on why he's doing it and for whom. (Honestly, a major reason to watch Reunion first is so you're not fully and appropriately upset by how your black/pink gays merely have one teeny tiny scene together.)

From the way the series treats the persistent absence of Wu Sanxing, Wu Xie's third uncle, I absolutely, 100% assumed that he was a completely new character to this installment of the series, an extremely long-lost relative that we've somehow conveniently managed to never talk about before now. So imagine my gobsmacked surprise when I went to watch a different series, set much earlier in the timeline, where the opening scene prominently features Wu Sanxing as an actual character in the present-day narrative! ...Well, sorta. Look, there's a lot of fuckery with his identity in earlier parts of the story, and fortunately you need to know none of it to understand Reunion. But when you do, it suddenly makes a lot more sense why Wu Xie talks about someone who was a major part of Wu Xie's adult life like he died when Wu Xie was nine.

AND THE FLASHBACK SCENE WHERE A-NING GETS KILLED BY THE SNAKE, AND YOU'RE LIKE, OKAY, AND THEN YOU WATCH ULTIMATE NOTE AND IT WASN'T LIKE THAT AT ALL look, I know there are kinda reasons for this, different production companies and all, but seriously, what the fuck

All of which to say is that the experience of watching Reunion the first time is, hey, this self-contained romp is a lot of fun! The experience of rewatching it after watching any of the other DMBJ installments is a transcendently wonderful head-clutching avalanche of one moment of recognition right after another.

And here's the thing: You will watch more. Reunion is a gateway drug. If you are interested enough to make it through all 62 episodes, you're going to be interested in watching more. Which is great. The English-speaking fandom needs more people. Come down into the tombs. It's great down here. We've got snakes and arguably unintentional homoeroticism. Join us. Join usssssssss

Are you ready for an aventure?

There are a couple different ways to watch the first half, but there's (weirdly) only one way to watch the second, so for both of them, I'm going to send you straight to iQiyi: Season 1 (32 episodes) and Season 2 (30 episodes).

And just so you’re ready when Reunion is done, here’s how you find the rest of the DMBJ series, in the absolutely non-chronological order in which I, personally, think you should watch them:

The Lost Tomb 2 (AsianCrush, YouTube)

Ultimate Note (iQiyi)

The Mystic Nine (iQiyi, Viki)

Sand Sea/Tomb of the Sea (Viki, WeTV, YouTube, also YouTube)

Also, there's a lot of movies and side series and other pieces that are worth seeing, and even a couple of full series I've left off the list, and you can just slot them in wherever. And maybe we'll get Tibetan Sea Flo-- IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE! And someday maybe I'll actually have time to watch it! What a concept.

They're so perfect. Perfect triangle. Perfect boys.

[ipseitydelrey]

Can I request a nsfw alphabet for Carmy?

of course you can !! and thank you <3

nsfw alphabet ☆ carmen berzatto

ship carmen berzatto x afab!reader

warnings reader has afab anatomy but uses gender neutral terms, smut, oral (m and f receiving), slight bondage?, biting, fingering, use of protection (stay safe kids!), masturbation, sex toys, tiny bit of degradation mixed with praise, tiny bit of exhibitionism, sexting/nudes, teasing

a/n i’m gonna be totally honest: i haven’t finished watching s2. i’m almost done it tho, i’m on episode 7 so my idea of carmy is solely based on everything that has happened up until s2:e6 (technically episode 5 bc episode 6 was entirely set years before s1 takes place soooo).

enjoy !!

A = aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

typically, carmy would be too tired to get up and get washcloths, so he’d rather just hold you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. that’s his idea of aftercare anyway.

B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and of yours)

he likes his hands the most. he likes how sometimes you trace the tattoos on the back of his palms and he just loves to hold your hand. during sex, he sometimes likes to finger you so he loves how you moan and writhe while his fingers pump into your fleshy walls.

as for you, it has to be your mouth. he loves to cook for you and you’re the taste tester for a lot of his experimental dishes when he was curating the menu for the bear! although, on the lewd side, whenever you give him oral, it’s so arousing to him how your mouth takes in all of him.

C = cum (anything to do with cum)

he likes to finish either in you or on your stomach, although he does wear condoms regularly so he mostly finishes while still in you. however, when you’re giving him a blowjob, he likes to give you a facial.

D = dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

he wants to fuck you while you have an apron on and nothing underneath. he hasn’t told you this fantasy yet, but if he ever catches you doing it, best believe that he’s bending you over the kitchen counter.

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

oh he definitely has experience. mostly hookups and one night stands, though.

F = favourite position (this goes without saying)

his favourite would have to be camel style. carmy loves having you ass up with your face pushed into the pillow while he pounds you.

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

when you first start having sex, he’s more on the serious side. though, over time as your relationship grows and you’re more comfortable with each other, he does crack a joke or two.

H = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

curly and messy, but controlled. sometimes you help him with shaving!

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

he only ever said “i love you” during sex around one year into your relationship. it was a slip of the tongue, and you can tell how worried he got when he said it. he quickened the pace when you said “i love you too.”

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

rarely to sometimes, probably once or twice a week. if he’s pent up but he can’t leave work just yet, then he’ll go into the office or the bathroom and masturbate.

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

at the start of your relationship, you were both pretty vanilla (keyword: were). maybe five or six months into your relationship, you suggested trying bondage — just tying your wrists together. one of his other kinks that he suggested was biting; mostly biting you, but he wouldn’t mind if you reciprocate the action.

L = location (favourite places to have sex)

while he does prefer the privacy of the bedroom, there are times when he enjoys doing it in the kitchen or a car.

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

a random turn on he has is the way you eat specific foods. for example, ice cream in a cone. when it melts a little and you lap up the ice cream with your tongue, he can’t help but think of you sucking him off.

N = nope (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

obviously, he would never hurt you, either physically or verbally. and although one of his turn ons his how you eat, one of his turn offs is using food (like whipped cream, cherries, etc.) during sex. he finds it to be a waste of using perfectly good ingredients that he would rather use to cook you something.

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he likes both, but he likes to be on the receiving end. at the end of a typical day working on renovating the restaurant, he’s tired, but sometimes in the mood. so you’re happy to give him a handjob/blowjob while he lays back and relaxes. if he wants to perform oral on you, then he likes it when you just sit on his face.

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

depends on his mood, which most of the time is pent up anger. rough sex is common in your shared sex life, so it’s a welcomed rarity when he wants to go slow.

Q = quickies (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

honestly, he’s perfectly fine with quickies. granted, he’d rather take his time with you, but if you’re in public like a bathroom stall or something, then he’s all for it.

R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he would be fine with experimenting a little, maybe with bondage, sex toys, and a bit of degradation (usually mixed with praise). he also likes taking risks in semi-public places (for instance, the office at the bear; you two have definitely done it there anytime you come over to visit).

S = sexts (yes? no? pictures?)

more pictures are sent than actual sexts. the texts themselves are more teasing than explicit, as are the pictures. you both partake in send one another nudes, but they’re always either tasteful or the sexual organs are covered just enough.

T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

he himself doesn’t own any toys, but if you do — especially later in your relationship when you start to experiment a little — he’ll definitely use them on you.

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

there are no words to describe how much carmy loves to tease you. the teasing is toned down a bit in public (with a couple of exceptions, like maybe if someone is trying to flirt with you…he’s definitely jealous and will tease you relentlessly), but when it’s just the two of you, he can be so unfair.

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

he’s the type of guy to not moan. maybe some grunts here and there, and there are whispers of ‘shit’ and ‘fuck,’ but no moans or whimpers.

W = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

one time, you suggested eating aphrodisiac chocolates to spice things up in the bedroom. of course, carmy does know that he can just buy them at a sex shop or online, but he decided to make them himself. and yes, they definitely put you in the mood…

X = x-ray (dick size)

slightly above average, but girthy. he’s also the type of guy to have that one prominent vein that runs along the side that just feels so good when he’s pumping in and out of you.

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive? how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

again, depends on mood. if carmy is pent up and still energetic when he comes home, then he can last three, maybe four rounds tops. however, if he’s tired, then one or two rounds before he clocks out.

Z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

most days, he falls asleep pretty quickly (hence, his definition of aftercare being quiet praises and cuddling). he does tend to fall asleep before you (sometimes, he can clock out right after he cums), but on days/nights where he’s still energetic, he’ll clean you both up and you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.

[the-face-in-the-mirror]

*waking up in the middle of the night to create the rewrite* Da hoes gonna loooooove this~.

As vaguely promised, here is Ban! The Sin of Greed himself, finally with a bit less red on him. But, of course, still with his slutty little crop tops, as he deserves. Might not be able to mansplain, manipulate, manwhore his way out this one, though.

Long hair on Ban does things to me so i’m subjecting all of you to the mullet. But it’s okay, because he looks good in almost anything. This outfit is largely inspired from a few of his Grand Cross outfits that I took a liking to, especially the jacket with the fur collar. I think it gives him more of that fox look, while also emphasizing the Greed aspect and how he likes nicer things; fur coats or even coats with fur linings or collars are typically viewed as being more luxurious, and I think it looks good in him. Same goes with the fur-lined boots.

As stated above, the steel-toed boots and armoured claws are good for both combat and scaling buildings. I like to think Ban is good at scaling buildings since he climbed the Sacred Tree so easily, and he’s a thief so why not let him be a thief. Let him get up to sketchy stuff, it’s what he deserves. Additionally, I thought it might be cool to make Ban a Beastman, or at least half of one. He always had a few characteristics about him that were just a bit too animalistic to not be explained. He hides it pretty well, and it’s likely that most of the Sins don’t actually know about it, bar Meliodas who’s known him the longest. And, despite what you might expect, I think it might be neat to make Ban a Werewolf rather than a Werefox like Zhivago. You would expect a Fox, which are sly, cunning, untrustworthy, thieving—most of which Ban is, but I think making him Wolf reveals the parts of him that aren’t as often considered, like his bravery and loyalty—if not towards Liones then towards Meliodas—and his fiercely protective nature.

In my mind, the “tattoos” on each sin have always seemed more like brands; they’re technically criminals, after all, and tattoos CAN technically be removed even if it would be harder in this setting (bar some sort of magic, probably). Brands are much harder to get rid of, if not impossible, and I think it would suit their perceived crimes. However, because of his regenerative healing, the branding iron never quite worked on Ban, so they said “fuck it” and whipped out the stick and poke.

And that’s all for Ban for now. I’m quite proud of this one. Let me know what ya think, if ya’ll are so inclined, and I will see you relatively soon!

[not-wholly-unheroic]

A Comparative Analysis of Hook’s Ship and Cabin in Popular Media Portrayals

Part 4: Peter Pan (2003)

P.J. Hogan’s 2003 film is full of life and color, and Isaacs’ Hook is likewise a colorful character who, though grounded in reality, most definitely has a flair for the dramatic and a taste for the finer things in life.

Like the other Hooks we have seen thus far, Isaacs’ Jolly Roger appears to be the large stereotypical pirate ship that all children think of, despite the impracticality of a slower vessel in actual piracy. (By this point, I think we should just assume that all Hooks go for form over function when it comes to their choice of ship.) It’s a gorgeous ship, and I do wish we got more close-ups of the outside of this particular Roger so we could see more of what’s going on with all the decorative work on the outside of the cabin and the figurehead, etc. One thing, though, that stands out about this ship is that the mainsail itself has a giant skull and crossed swords on it. This would be completely impractical for any actual ship, as the enemy would see them coming and know they were pirates right off the bat…lending credence to the idea that this ship (and this Hook) may be deeply shaped by the children’s imagination. Then again…what else should we expect of a pirate ship whose name itself is the Jolly Roger?

The shots we get of the inside of Isaacs Hook’s cabin reveal the living space of a man who is accustomed to a decadent lifestyle but not so over-the-top as to be entirely unrealistic. While his beautifully decorated harpsichord is the centerpiece of the room, we also notice that he has several tables, a couch, and a globe.

This is about all we can tell from the in-film shots of the cabin, but some promotional material and a pirate-themed hotel that purchased a few set pieces from the film and set up their own room to mimic Hook’s can give us a few ideas about what the rest of the cabin might look like. (Big shout-out to @annabellioncourt for providing several of these bonus material images!)

In the one promotional photo, there is what looks like a lute, perhaps, in the background. I also love the little detail of the skull and crossbones on the candle stand…and his li’l stripey socks.

Here we can see the full-sized bed with a gun and what looks like it might be an Eton crest over it. (Note that if you pay close attention in Hook’s intro scene in the film, you will actually see that the tattoo on his left arm is an Eton crest as well.)

Isaacs Hook also has a self-portrait in his cabin, it seems…which interestingly has a date on the frame of 1742. This is about the most specific we get with ANY Hook as far as time period goes. This is after the Golden Age of Piracy had really already come to an end, though it’s technically possible he might still have been “Blackbeard’s bosun” depending on his age, as Blackbeard’s career ended in 1718 in a battle off Ocracoke Island, NC. Isaacs himself was around 40 years old when the filming was done, so if we want to assume Hook was around the same age when he came to Neverland and the portrait was done shortly before then, he would have been around 16 at the time of Blackbeard’s downfall. A bit young but…it’s possible if he started his career at sea early. Cabin boys usually started out around age 12 but could be as young as 8-ish on occasion. However…this wouldn’t really track with Hook being an Eton student. Assuming he actually graduated, he would have been at the school until he turned 18. So while Isaacs Hook may have very well been a sailor or even more specially a pirate prior to Neverland…he likely wasn’t a peer of Blackbeard or the other more well-known pirates of the early 1700s.

One last thing that is interesting to me is that in addition to the more standard weapons/tools like chains, guns, and boarding axes that we see in some shots, this version of Hook keeps what looks like an entire small cabinet of various tinctures and powders. At least the one of them which he removes is poison, but one wonders….are they all different kinds of poison? Or are some, perhaps, medicinal in nature or for recreational use?

As a whole, Isaacs’ Hook is, I think, perhaps one of the most realistic portrayals of the character. While there are some highly fanciful aspects to his ship—like the giant skull on the mainsail—much of his personal space has the lavish furnishings one might expect of someone with an aristocratic background without feeling too entirely impractical. Add to that a concrete date on the portrait, and I’d say this Hook is more grounded in reality than nearly any of the others we’ve encountered so far.

[hyprfixate]

soul vine ↝ [L.M.] :: part one

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: when you decide to get an ear piercing as part of your transition to adulthood, you expect a lot of things, like the pain and the high price tag. what you don’t expect, however, is finding out you’re soul-bound to the angry blonde from the parlor. or that you’re technically not human.

but hey. adulthood, right?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ pairing: lee minho x she/her reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter word count: 4.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ chapter warnings: mentions of needles, only for piercing purposes

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ tags: magic au, grumpy minho, fantasy, medium burn, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers, soulmate au (will add more as i think about it)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ author’s note: hope you guys enjoy this chapter! i wanted to preface and say, if you feel like you’ve read something similar to this before: do not panic, i am not stealing lmao. this is an old BTS fic of mine that i’ve reworked to become a SKZ fic. fret not lovelies.

also please ignore formatting mistakes <3

part one - part two - part three - part four

Just at the end of the block was the last thing standing before you and adulthood. Tatt and Body Works Piercing Parlor had been in your sights for weeks now, and today was finally the day that you would start your journey into real adulthood. Not only because it was your birthday, but because you were about to do something your mother would never let you do.

Pausing outside a dark storefront, you peered at your reflection and wondered if you really looked your age.

You knew you probably didn’t, that the high ponytail and bright pink headband probably set you back a couple years, but you hoped it wasn’t enough to get turned away at the door. What was the point in walking all the way here for them to just send you home?

After a few more steps, you reached the large black awning, standing idly outside the door for a second. You chewed on your bottom lip with more vigor than intended, as you shifted from foot to foot in front of the piercing parlor. It looked empty, with vibrant LED lights reflecting off the sparkling floor. There was no one at the front desk, no one standing anywhere nearby to greet you. The cold emptiness of it all made you want to turn around and go home. You glanced back in the direction you came from and noticed the slight uphill trek you’d be subjected to.

Alright. Whatever.

With a sigh you pushed open the door, the overhead bell jingling to alert those inside to your arrival, wherever they may be. The front desk was still empty, save for a hefty amount of papers scattered around haphazardly. There was no little bell to ding for service, and you couldn't see any rooms anywhere to call for someone to assist you. Just a dark wall lined with pictures, posters, and various quotes.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you decided to go to a body works shop, but something about the atmosphere of the store felt off. Not in a scary way, but almost the complete opposite. It felt comforting and homely, despite its emptiness.

You took it upon yourself to find a seat to wait for assistance. There were three chairs off to the far left of the room, one of which was positioned under a large bulletin board with photos stuck to it. Looking around once more to make sure you didn’t overlook a person in the dim light, you walked over to sit.

As you sat at the edge of the couch, you peered up at the bulletin board to pass the time. There were various pictures of models showcasing tattoos that the parlor had done. They were all extremely intricate, it was obvious they were made with precision and all the attention one could sacrifice. You enjoyed looking at the art, and though you weren’t ready for a tattoo just yet, you could still admire the craftsmanship.

Off to the corner of the board, a rather small picture of an earring caught your eye. It was industrial style, spanning from the inner corner of the model's ear to the outer, curving and wrapping around like it was made for their ear. Upon tilting your head, you noticed it was shaped like a key. The head crested above the ear in the shape of a heart (sort of), and the blade weaved in and over the shell of the ear shell perfectly.

It was a beautiful piercing, to say the least.

Something about the earring looked familiar, like images of a dream from childhood that began to blur around the edges. You searched deep within yourself to find a piece of memory to hold on to, to see if you could figure out what it meant, but you came up short. You were so focused on the photo that you didn’t hear footsteps making their way into the lobby and taking their place at the desk behind you.

"Hey! I’m so sorry for the wait, how can I help you?"

You whipped around to see a heavily tatted, and equally heavily pierced man now perched on the edge of the front desk. His uneven brown hair was parted on the side, framing his face perfectly like drips of brown candle wax down his face. He smiled at you, a warm and inviting smile enveloped by thick, plump lips. Silver balls adorned his dimples as he waited for you to speak.

"Uh, hi," you stuttered out. You tried to shake the dreamy feeling away from your head. "I, um. I came for a piercing."

The man in front of you raised a single eyebrow, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. At this expression, you felt panic rise in your chest.

“You guys… you do piercings right?”

He blinked before nodding quickly. “Yes! Sorry, yes we do. We usually get more requests for tattoos so I was a bit surprised.”

He shuffled around some papers on his desk as he continued to speak. “The guy who does lobe piercings isn’t in today. I know it seems like something anyone can do, but I swear Felix must possess a talent none of us can achieve. I can schedule you for tomorrow maybe, if that works?”

“I actually wanted an industrial piercing.”

"Industrial, huh..." The man muttered. “But you don’t even have lobe piercings…”

He stared at you as you stood in front of him, a bit perturbed to say the least. With a final shrug, he nodded. "Okay, that works. We have a guy who can do that. If you step over here we can pick out the bar that’ll get put in afterwards.” He rummaged around on the desk, his eyebrows knitting together. “If I can even find the stupid book.”

Your mouth moved faster than your brain, and before you knew it you heard your voice in the empty space around you. "Can I have the key?"

The brunette paused his actions, confusion shrouding his features. "The...key?" He asked. At least you assumed it was a question, it sounded more like a statement of disbelief.

At his confusion, you pointed behind yourself at the small picture in the corner of the board. The man at the front desk squinted to see the picture you were referring to. Once his eyes settled, he pursed his lips, and an untraceable emotion flitted past his dark brown eyes. He blinked harder than normal before speaking.

"That's, um, that’s not—"

His eyes flickered back to yours, and you could tell he was thinking about how to turn you down gently. However, at your disappointed face, he quickly cleared his throat, whatever he was planning on saying dying in his throat.

"I mean, that’s not a problem at all. Yup, we can do that for you. Definitely.”

He cracked the fingers on his hands as he continued to stare at the photo. After realizing the silence turned awkward, he quickly shook his head and tried to gather his thoughts. Once he recovered, he ran his fingers through his hair and smiled. “I'm Chan, by the way. I probably should've introduced myself first."

"Nice to meet you," you said back. His eyes sparkled as he held your gaze for a moment, before dropping it to sift through papers on the counter in front of him once again.

"This is gonna seem like a dumb question but, you’re at least 18 right?"

You nodded, the image of your outfit skittering across your memory like a rat. You internally cringed, sneaking a hand up to yank the headband off of your head. You stuffed it into your pocket with a mental note to throw it away later.

Chan grinned happily as he found the form he was looking for. His lip ring gleamed in the bright lights of the parlor waiting room, and he clapped his hands together. "Perfect. I'll take you to the back room, I think Minho would love to work on this for you."

He motioned for you to follow him through thick black curtains that led into another, larger room. You blinked in surprise as you stepped through the threshold. How did you not notice the black space in the wall was a curtain? It seemed like someone had started a paint job and abandoned it, not a three dimensional object. You looked back at it quizzically, watching the curtain flap back into place and remain motionless.

The two of you passed a few rooms with open doors where a couple people were scattered about. One room in particular held a red haired man working gingerly on the abs of another, the whir of a tattoo gun covering any and all conversation they could be having. The red head looked up and caught your eye for a brief second before going back to his work.

"We're here."

Here was the biggest door in the area, and notably the only closed one. Chan raised a gloved finger to his lips before knocking gingerly on the metal of the door.

Surprising to both of you, the door remained shut with no sign of life on the other side. Something in the air electrified, and you felt all the hair on your body stand at attention. The air felt thick, almost like the air before a thunderstorm. Anxiety boiled in your gut as you stared wearily at Chan. The cheerful smile on his face faltered as he stared at the unmoving door, but he cleared his throat and tried again.

"Lino," he called, the nickname a small attempt of lessening the intensity of the air. "I have someone here who needs a piercing done."

After another anxiety filled beat of silence, the door creaked open to reveal thin, catlike eyes. The eyes shifted from Chan to you and back again, and for a second you thought you wouldn't be getting your piercing done. But, thankfully, the owner of the eyes opened the door and allowed you both to step through.

Once you were both in the room, you found yourself standing between Chan and who you assumed was Minho. The latter had a scowl that could pierce glass, though it wasn’t directed at anyone in particular. The tension that enveloped you outside the door was no weaker here. You felt like you were choking on the air around you, and it nearly caused tears to pool in your eyes.

You noticed Chan’s gaze lingering on you for a moment, before he nudged Minho with his foot. The taller of the two glanced up, and they had a wordless conversation before you felt the air around you relax.

Odd.

"This is Minho," Chan spoke up after a moment. His happy tone seemed extremely inappropriate for both the general ambiance of the shop and the thick tension that once coated the room. You felt extremely out of place here, not only because of your clean and un-pierced skin, but there was a hint of something in the air that you couldn’t place, almost like Minho did not want you there.

The man in question had platinum blond hair that was a stark contrast to his dark, shifting eyes. His small lips were etched in a permanent pout that seemed to curve deeper with every passing second. He licked his lips, and you could see the black ball of a snake eye dart in and out his mouth.

“That’s my name,” he said lowly in response to Chan. “What do you want?”

"Oh I don’t want anything,” He chuckled. He turned his attention towards you and continued talking. “Minho here is the maker of the earring you were interested in. He’ll be doing your piercing."

At this, Minho quirked an eyebrow up. His slow drawl sharpened to a sarcastic blade. "Come again?"

Chan shrugged simply. "She picked your key, Lino."

You noticed Minho had piercings of his own: an industrial, a double lip ring, a septum, the tongue piercing, and of course, simple lobe piercings. But, his industrial piercing was a simple bar. If Minho made the key, wouldn't he want to wear it?

The taller man scoffed, his pout turning into a full blown scowl. He threw the cloth in his hands down on the chair in front of him and shook his head. "The nose ring? Nope, that’s Jeongin’s department. He should be finishing up with his client soon.”

Chan said nothing, just stared.

A dozen emotions flickered through Minho’s eyes before he settled on disgust and anger. “Wait. Chan, you can’t possibly be talking about—” He cut himself off, raising his eyebrows as a completion of his sentence.

Chan nodded.

Minho scoffed. “I’m not making that earring, Chan. No way.”

Your heart plummeted from its cavity as you looked to Chan for answers. The brunette met your eyes, and he rolled his own playfully, signaling for you to pay no mind to the other man's attitude. Minho caught this, of course, and his frown deepened.

“Chan I told you a million times, I was never making that earring again. I didn’t even know the stupid picture was up on that board.”

“Oh, come on Minho.”

“That piercing is nothing but trouble and so are the people who want it.”

You blinked, confused and a little offended.

“I don’t think she’s one of those people.”

Minho whipped around, his dark eyes boring into yours. You widened your own eyes, face flushing as you quickly averted your gaze.

"Come on, Lino. You’re the only one who can make that piercing happen, and she really wants it.”

“Well, I don’t really hav—”

Your words died in your throat as Chan put a single finger to his lips to silence you. The dynamic of the room shifted, and all of the power and command attached itself to Chan. Minho seemed to notice the shift as well and he shrunk into himself.

He sighed, his pout twisting until his lips were pursed in thought. "But Chan…."

"Um.” You found your voice again. “Should I have picked another design? It's okay, really."

"No," Chan said, his voice more firm than before. "Minho will do it for you."

Minho opened his mouth to argue, but closed it forcefully under the other man’s red hot glare. He looked like he wanted to say something, or a lot of things, to his counterpart. But something about his glare kept Minho quiet.

Chan’s final input seemed to knock the final brick of Minho's tower over, and the blond haired man let a sigh rip through his chest. "Fine. I’ll do it."

The cheerful attitude returned to Chan as he clapped, the abrupt change in the atmosphere almost giving you whiplash. You felt mildly dizzy as the brunette stepped quickly towards the door, the face splitting smile back where it belonged.

"Thanks, Min! I'll go fill out the paperwork, you can get started.”

He turned to you with a soft smile, lowering his voice so only you could hear. "Don't let this grump get you down. He's really sweet under his mean ol' face."

You weren’t sure how much of that you believed, but you nodded anyway. Chan shot you a wink, and with one final glance at Minho, he stepped out of the room.

You were too anxious to turn around, but you could feel the blonde’s eyes digging holes into the back of your skull. You swallowed thickly and prayed to every higher power that the appointment would go quickly.

Minho let out an exhausted sounding sigh and started moving around the room. When you gained the courage to turn around, he motioned vaguely for you to take a seat in the large chair in the middle of the room and turned his back to you, pulling out a thick strip of metal and a pair of pliers from a drawer and beginning to work on the design.

He paused for a second, barely glancing over his shoulder. “I have to make the earring from scratch, since the one in the picture is the only one that currently exists. Just sit, I’ll be done soon.”

After that, nothing.

The silence was deafening. Every breath in the room echoed and radiated off the walls and bounced right back on your ears. The man was no help, working silently with his back hunched over his work protectively. There was no room to peek, no room to ask questions. After opening and closing every app on your phone for 10 minutes, you fiddled with the flaps of your jacket as a means to occupy yourself. You willed yourself to stay quiet, but your curiosity was sparking with each passing second.

His words from earlier worked their way back into your brain.

“That earring is nothing but trouble and so are the people who want it.”

What did that mean?

Part of you worried that you were in over your head. You hadn’t done a very good job of researching when you were looking for a place to pierce your ear, besides a customary search on google maps to make sure the shop actually existed. You started to worry that maybe the shop was a front for some kind of deadly mafia, or illegal trafficking ring.

You shook that thought out of your head. You were being ridiculous. That type of stuff was reserved for TV dramas and the fanfiction you read at night.

An agonizing 5 minutes later, Minho put his pliers down for good. He wiped his hands with hand sanitizer before spinning around in his chair to look at you. The scowl was no longer present on his face— in fact, his features as a whole softened. He looked at you and tilted his head quizzically, like he was studying a painting.

“You ever got a piercing before?”

At your head shake, he let out a dry laugh. “Why am I not surprised.”

The drawer next to his workspace opened to reveal an array of needles and various other piercing equipment. A cold chill ran down your spine at the looks of the needle sizes. Minho, noticing your apprehension, rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m not a jackass, so I’m going to pierce your ear with a needle, not the gun, and then feed the earring through. Okay?”

You didn’t really know if she could say no to that. He was a professional after all. You nodded anyway, watching as he prepped his station.

He rolled his chair over to where you sat, dragging along a small metal tray table with him. The earring sat in all its glory on a cotton swab doused with rubbing alcohol. On the tray, it didn’t look much like a key— it didn’t look much like anything really. Sort of like an abstract painting. you wondered if maybe it was an optical illusion.

Minho followed your confused gaze to the earring and kissed his teeth. “It's not going to look like… a key yet,” he muttered. “It has to be in your ear first.”

His features may have relaxed, but his tone was harsh. A part of you wanted to shut up and let him do what he needed, but Chan’s voice rang in the back of your mind.

‘Don’t let him intimidate you.’

You’re an adult, for goodness sake, and Minho couldn’t be that much older than you. You counted to 10 in your head to give yourself the courage to say something.

“Does no one else think it looks like a key?” you piped curiously. “Chan didn’t know what I was talking about until he saw the picture, and you seem like that wasn’t what you wanted it to be.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “It's whatever you want it to be. Some people think it's a heartbeat, some people think it’s just a squiggle. You think it's a key, and that’s fine.”

He wiped a needle down with an alcohol pad. “Well. I hope you have a high pain tolerance. Industrials hurt.”

“Um…”

Minho rolled his eyes. “Never mind.”

He scooted his chair closer and discarded the soaked cotton ball. He pulled a marker from behind his ear and marked two dots where the earring would go through.

“Alright, take a deep breath in for me,” He muttered, his face dangerously close to yours. You followed his directions, and on his command you let the breath out. Immediately you felt the sharp sting from the needle, and you gripped the arm of the chair with force.

“Fuck,” You hissed, arching off the chair in pain.

“That wasn’t so bad,” He muttered. “Besides, that was only the outter corner. I still have to pierce the inside.”

“Of course you do,” you muttered.

The traces of a smile pulled up on the corners of Minho’s mouth, but just as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared. He wiped down the next needle and adjusted his chair so he could reach his target.

“Alright, same process. Deep breath in.”

You sucked in a breath.

“And--”

The door to Minho’s workspace slammed open, and an unfamiliar face stood in the doorway. The sound caught both of you by surprise, and the needle went through your ear before you could prepare. You hissed out in pain and slapped Minho’s hand away. Minho himself seemed terrified, but soon his eyes settled and he recognized the face at the door.

“Fucking-- what Hyunjin?”

The man at the door, Hyunjin apparently, had the same crown of red hair you saw on your way to Minho’s studio. Just like the two men you met previously, he was adorned from head to toe in tattoos. Under the bang of his hair was a shiny silver eyebrow piercing. His plump and full lips were slightly agape, staring at you two with quick, shifty eyes.

“Sorry, Min,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t know you had a client. Chan told me someone was getting the… what is it?”

“A key,” The blond muttered.

“Right. A key…”

Your eyes shifted between the two men, who seemed to be communicating wordlessly like Chan and Minho did before.

What is with these guys?

“Am I missing something here?”

Hyunjin broke from his staring match with Minho and smiled at you in the chair. “Oh! Sorry, I’m Hyunjin,” he grinned. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. Or in any of the local shops. Are you new in town?”

“Oh no, this is just my first piercing.”

Hyunjin’s eyes were soft and kind, and you felt yourself drawn to them inexplicably. He radiated comforting energy, and for the first time since you stepped into the shop, you could feel your body relax.

“First piercing, huh?” His smile turned teasing. “And you didn’t go for a lobe piercing?”

Behind you, Minho broke away from the distraction of the conversation and remembered his task at hand. He let out an annoyed hum and went back to work, grabbing the earring from the tray and preparing to feed it through the holes he just made.

“I wanted something a little more rebellious than a lobe piercing.”

Hyunjin’s smile turned into a full smirk “Of course,” he teased. “An industrial piercing, the most rebellious of all. Next on your bucket list must be jaywalking, huh?”

You returned his teasing smile. “Oh, for sure. And after that I’m going straight to littering.”

Laughing gently, the redhead found an empty portion of the counter and lifted himself up, scooting closer to your spot in the leather chair. “So, what made you pick Minho’s earring?”

You thought back to the dreamy feeling you got in your head upon seeing the picture. It seemed to call out to you silently, but you didn’t know how to say that without sounding like a lunatic. Instead, you shrugged lightly, jostling Minho’s hands as he worked on your ear.

“Keep still,” he hissed.

Hyunjin chuckled. “I wish I knew how to do ear piercings. You wouldn’t have to suffer with the grump here.”

“Can everyone stop calling me grumpy?” Minho slammed a hand down on his tray. “I am not grumpy because I’m 24 years old and not a toddler. Excuse me if I’m in a bad mood once in a while.”

Hyunjin’s sparkling eyes held an air of amusement. “S’okay Min,” he smiled. “You’re grumpy. It’s okay to be grumpy.”

Flipping Hyunjin off, Minho huffed and pushed away from you, reaching for the cloth on the metal tray. “Done,” he grumbled.

The redhead hopped off the counter and made his way over to your side, peering curiously at your ear. His brown eyes widened in surprise, a smile curling on the corners of his lips.

“Well done, Minho,” he grinned. “It looks even better than the picture.”

The man in question was too busy putting together a care kit to acknowledge the compliment. Absentmindedly, he thrust a hand mirror in the direction of the pair of you, mumbling something about checking it out. Hyunjin grabbed the mirror and handed it to you, smiling cutely as he cupped his chin in his hands. “Take a look.”

You lifted the mirror to your ear, turning your head to examine the new addition to your appearance. It really did look like a key now that it was in your ear. As you moved your head around to examine it, you noticed that its shadow held a peculiar shape to it as well.

You lifted the mirror higher to let the light hit the perfect spot. The shadow of the earring sort of looked like letters. You squinted carefully and shifted the light around to put the letters together to form a word.

M. I. N. H. O.

Minho.

As quickly as the name processed in your brain, the metal of the earring started to burn red-hot, and the mirror fell from your hands and shattered on the ground.

[calissarowan]

HERE ME OUT: Ogron x Tecna

Great pairing request! I had lots of fun with her. This is Dara Rowan, Fairy of Matter. She’s something of a magical prodigy, and she dedicates herself to bettering her magical and technical knowledge. She wants to live up to her father’s legacy as a powerful wizard (though she’s planning to leave out the supervillain part), and for the most part, she’s set to succeed with flying colours, but Ogron’s ability to lead a team still evades her. She finds trying to instruct people to be like herding cats, and finds it very confusing and irritating when they don’t follow the course of action that rigorous planning and calculation have determined to be irrefutably best. She struggles to listen to opinions outside of her own, not specifically through arrogance, but just because her opinion is the most well-informed. If anyone else has spent three hours meticulously researching the topic in question, she’s more than happy to hear them out.

She’s a nice enough girl, but can come across somewhat chilly (and not just because she’s from Zenith), since she tends to have minimal interest in talking to people. She neither believes that rules were made to be followed or broken, but rather that rules were meant to be assessed and carefully considered in the context of the situation, and reconsidered if the situation demands it. (Which is a fancy way of saying that yes, she’d sneak off campus or break the laws of reality if she thought she needed to.)

She’s an expert hacker, and incredibly skilled when it comes to building gadgets, though her interests tend to lie more along the route of arcane terrestrial magic. And, for anyone that noticed it, yes, that is the Black Circle on her finger. Ogron felt that, given his own personal shortcomings in the past, the artefact might be in better hands with his daughter. (Was this decision discussed with Tecna? Not in the traditional sense of the word. But it’s fine. Now.)

Dara’s powers centre around matter, and the ability to change it between the three states. She can make herself and others intangible, but this is complex magic that even she struggles with. Since being given the Black Circle, she can also create voids into the Abyss (though that’s only for emergencies. Nobody's sure what these emergencies are, but Ogron said ‘for emergencies’, so it’s assumed they exist) and also absorb magic, though it has to be stored inside the Circle, so it’s difficult for her to invoke it herself.

Also, for anyone interested, that tattoo on her arm is called a Dara knot, and it’s a Celtic symbol representing power, strength, leadership and wisdom. I thought it’d be a cool addition. Plus, I ended up naming her after it. My friend @devilheartsblog had the idea that wizards have tattoos that channel their magic, like the one Nabu has, so I think this is Dara’s equivalent. She’s still a fairy, but this lets her channel the dark powers she gets from Ogron.

Thanks for the super cool pairing request, and I hope you like her!

[pollenallergie]

18+ only!!

do not interact if you’re under 18 years old!

some random best friend!Eddie headcanons bc I feel like it:

Eddie has several pairs of holiday-themed socks and he wears them year round. You can frequently catch him sporting Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer socks, regardless of the season. <3

When Eddie was like 8 or 9, he went through a phase where he only wanted spaghetti-o’s for dinner every night, so your mom started calling him “Eddie Spaghetti.” <3

Little kids love Eddie. He doesn’t know why, but they sort of gravitate toward him. That said, he certainly doesn’t mind; he thinks it’s adorable. He’s just naturally very good with kids. <3

You two have matching tattoos. His says “billy” and yours says “silly,” in reference to an inside joke from when you were little. <3

You and Eddie always manage to get sick at the same time. Always. Wayne and your mom used to take turns staying home to take care of you two when you were little, but now you two little sicklings just take care of each other. <3

After every single holiday meal, you both sneak off to your bedroom to sleep off the impending food coma in your bed. It’s a tradition you’ve had since you were ten. <3

Eddie is your grandma’s favorite grandchild, even though he’s not technically her grandchild. <3

The first time you smoked weed, you got so high that Eddie called you “space cadet” the whole night. He now calls you that every time you get high. <3

Whenever Eddie goes to the gas station to pick up a new pack of cigarettes, he’ll grab your favorite candy for you. <3

You’re insecure about your laugh (not your cute little giggle, but your genuine, unrestrained laugh), but it’s one of Eddie’s favorite things about you. <3

You and Eddie have a rule about getting each other christmas and birthday presents since you both grew up with little money. The rule is that you can only make things for each other. For the most part, you both adhere to this rule completely. However, you’ve both been known to break it every once and a while in favor of getting something extra special for each other. For example, you had splurged on Metallica tickets for Eddie’s 18th birthday. Likewise, he’d spent entirely too much money on a special edition gift set of your favorite book series last christmas. <3

You and Eddie used to put on plays for your mom and Uncle Wayne when you were kids. Honestly, you’d continued to do so for far longer than either of you would like to admit. <3

Eddie’s so close with your family that he even bickers with your siblings like they’re his own. <3

Eddie takes your dog to the park at least once a week for quality “bro time,” as he likes to call it. <3

He also helped name your dog when you’d first gotten him. He’d named him Philby after the Rory Gallagher song, only to later learn that the title for that song came from the name of a British spy who’d worked as a double agent for the Soviets. oopsies. <3

Wayne takes you, Eddie, and your family camping near the Indiana Dunes every single summer, and has done so since you were ten. <3

When Eddie was a kid, he had a black cat named Samwise. Unfortunately, Samwise passed away when Eddie was thirteen. You’d both cried about it for weeks. </3

You and Eddie both hate the public pool, Eddie because he’s the town pariah, and you because people always look at you weirdly when you wear a swimsuit and it makes you feel insecure. So, in the summertime, you’ll often sneak Eddie into your dad’s backyard after he leaves for work in the morning, that way you two can spend the whole day swimming without being subjected to ridicule from the other Hawkins residents. <3

Wayne has a copy of every single one of your school pictures much like your mom has a copy of every single one of Eddie’s. <3

Eddie learned how to make pot brownies after you’d expressed an interest in trying them. <3

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s written multiple songs for you. <3

He gets your mom a mother’s day present every year. He also gets Wayne a father’s day present every year. <3

Your mom packed lunches for the both of you until she finally cut you off freshman year, hoping to urge you both to become more independent. <3

Your dad paid for you to go to summer camp in the summer between sixth and seventh grade, and, while you were gone, you’d made a total of six sets of matching friendship bracelets for you and Eddie. Only one of them survived to adulthood, and he still wears it to this day. <3

For his birthday one year, you’d made him a scrapbook filled with pictures of the both of you. Unbeknownst to you, he’d continued to add pictures to it until it was completely full. <3

Eddie cries every single time he watches Bambi. <3

Eddie also cries when he watches Old Yeller. <3

Eddie took you to see The Color Purple when it was released in theaters. He cried during that movie as well. <3

Eddie won a story-writing contest in the sixth grade and, again, in the seventh grade. <3

Eddie only lies about the most inconsequential and random shit. Like he’ll tell some extremely thorough, elaborate lie about the etymology of a word just for shits and giggles. He’s a very convincing liar too, which makes it even funnier when you’re in on the joke. <3

Eddie doesn’t believe that he’s a good writer, just that he’s a good bullshitter. You assure him that he’s far too good at both of those things. <3

Eddie prefers to start his Sunday mornings with a good, ole fashioned wake n bake followed by an unreasonable amount of chocolate chip pancakes. <3

In the wintertime, he walks around the trailer cocooned in the fuzzy blanket that your mom got him for christmas one year. It’s adorable. <3

Eddie has surprisingly steady hands which you frequently take advantage of by asking him to paint your nails. <3

He hugs you very frequently because he just likes hugging you, okay? Don’t make it weird! (his words, not mine). And, believe me, this man gives the best hugs. <3

Eddie talks in his sleep, but his words are usually so slurred and garbled that you can’t understand them. <3

Eddie and Wayne also collect beer coozies, in addition to their collection of hats and mugs. Seriously, they have an inordinate amount of beer coozies. And they just whip them out, unprompted, all the time. Are you drinking a soda? Well, hey, they’ve got a coozie for ya! Hell, they’ll even use them on glasses of water. <3

Wayne’s a big NASCAR fan and he even took you and Eddie to the Indy 500 once. You were both bored out of your minds the entire time, but grateful nonetheless. <3

You guys even stayed in the train-car hotel for that trip which, as eight-year-olds, you both found insanely cool. <3

Wayne frequently goes to your mom for parenting advice. <3

Wayne also played matchmaker for your mom and her boyfriend, Hank, one of his coworkers from the plant. They’ve been together for two years now. <3

She’d repaid the favor by setting him up with the receptionist from her office, Marie. They’ve been together for almost a year now. <3

Wayne and your mom have been trying to play matchmaker between you and Eddie for years now, but you’re both too damn oblivious. <3

Eddie tried to teach you how to ride a bike when you were eleven, but you fell once and never attempted again. So, before he’d gotten his license, he’d either let you stand on the back of his bike and hold onto him or he’d let you sit on the handlebars. <3

Eddie wants to get a motorcycle one day just because he thinks you’d look hot perched on the back of one. <3

Eddie’s first car, before the van, was your mom’s old station wagon. <3

You and Eddie both talk a lot, so you have a bad habit of interrupting each other, but, it’s hard to get mad about that given how much you both like listening to each other talk. <3

You two used to argue a lot as kids, mostly because you’re both stubborn, but now you hardly ever butt heads. You’re both still incredibly stubborn, but are now more willing to compromise, at least with each other. <3

You’ve never missed one of Corroded Coffin’s shows. <3

Eddie loves naps, can’t get enough of ‘em. <3

Eddie’s superpower is his ability to sleep anywhere. Once, when there was a tornado during school, he’d fallen asleep on the tile floor of the hallway of Hawkin’s Middle while in that protective, crouched position that you’d all been forced to sit in. It was honestly impressive. <3

You have asthma, so Eddie’s developed a habit of keeping one of your spare rescue inhalers on him at all times. The one he’s got for you is technically expired, but he figures it’s better than nothing. <3

Eddie loves it when you play with his hair. He even lets you brush it for him. <3

Eddie guilt trips you into giving him back rubs by faking a sore back and complaining about how awful his mattress is. Truthfully, Eddie quite likes his bed, it’s much better than the one he’d slept in when he lived with his dad, but he’s willing to throw ole reliable under the bus if it means getting a free back rub. He’s been using that trick since he was nine. Of course, his intentions are purely wholesome in nature; he really just loves your back rubs. <3

He’ll frequently return the favor by giving you shoulder and neck rubs because he knows that you carry a lot of tension there. <3

Eddie has a framed picture of you two together on his dresser. <3