#why is there such a lack of creek fics on tumblr?

[sansxfuckyou]

oh yeah?

Most recent Kenman fic. What inspired it? Any lessons or morals? Be ignorant be gay? 👉👈🥺

before we begin talking about Contractually Obligated we need to start with some small pre-ambles

1: it's intended to be the final piece of a trio of fics, one wherein Cartman is taking the aforementioned photographs of Kenny (mentioned when they're making out on a car), and one wherein they have a big ass chat about how they should hook up now that Kyle is dating Stan (Cartman is already out of town). will I finish either of those fics? fuck if I know, do they exist in my head without fail and keep me motivated to keep going? absolutely

2: I usually write kenman fics to fill the gaping void, to cope with the complete lack of kenman fics. I also use the kenman dynamic to explore different scenarios that I can't entirely justify with K2, Stenny, Crenny, etc, etc- because sometimes Cartman is the only one who hits the specific vibe I'm shooting for.

3: they would've had gay sex on screen but I wanted it to be safe for tumblr so we only get a scene of them smoking in bed like in the movies just to make sure people understand that they hit it hard

now, actually talking about the fic itself

see, i have a fixation with the whole 'if we're both single' type of contract, because it can go two ways. both parties struggling to prevent the contract from happening, or both parties shrugging off attempts to prevent it. in this case, they gave up on preventing it, and almost forgot about it, style and creek both happened so why not try and hook up right.

but they are both stubborn, repressive, idiots! and they won't just ask each other out because no, that's pretty fuckin' faggy, and Cartman won't lower himself to that. he will lower himself to going on a date with Kenny only in the case of a bet, or a contract, because there's no control over that. he can't control it, it's not of his own volition, he's not gay if he does it, he just lost a bet. Kenny on the other hand? he's kissed all of his friends, fuck, he's slept with all of his friends because of course he has.

the pre-existing dynamics, my god, kill me now, they make me go insane. Kenny is Cartman's best friend, and Kyle and Stan are less Cartmans friend than Kenny is. already we have a rooted relationship, they're close, so very, very close, and Cartman remembers when Kenny dies (he briefly states Kenny dies all the time in the ep where he buys an amusement park). there's this dependency you know, Cartman goes to Kenny because no one else will actually listen, and Kenny listens. they ran a restuarant together! thats fuckin gay as shit!

i am getting off point, very off point, sorry. but basically, they made this contract age thirteen, and Kenny knows Cartman will still be single, because of course he will. it's just a convenient excuse, quell the anxieties. and you know what? it worked, Kenny got a partner (will be disclaimed in the unwritten fic) and so did Cartman, and that contract was as good as dead. they could just tear it up and move on.

but no, nineteen, Cartman is fresh out of town, and he calls up Kenny to tell him he finally got a girlfriend. and Kenny is so fucking happy for him, the contract fades into obscurity and that point it's entirely out of Cartman's head. Cartman gets dumped first, and he doesn't dare call up Kenny, but when Kenny gets dumped? they are sitting on the phone, consoling each other, and just bullshitting like long distance friends do.

two more years pass and Cartman is back in South Park and he knows what must be done, he's been waiting patiently for it. and he'll never tell Kenny that he dumped the chick in the same way Kenny will never tell Cartman he got dumped because his partner found the artfully nude photographs ('to test lighting!') that Cartman took.

'so what? they both fucked their relationships?'

big fucking what, it wasn't purposeful, remember, that contract has faded into obscurity. Kenny never thought the photos would come up and Cartman isn't getting what he wants, someone to remind him of his best friend. they require each other, Stan and Kyle got together, Craig and Tweek married at age twenty one, Butters is off with Tolkien, yuri happened between Bebe and Wendy- everyone is together.

except for Kenny, he's single in South Park and no one is available for him, and Cartman, single out of South Park and he's been asked out once or twice at that. he turns them down, he has business to fulfill and he refuses to leave this contract unfulfilled. he's been waiting for this, for the dominoes to finally fall so he has an excuse to get what he wants and so does Kenny.

sure, it's subconscious, but they've always had each others backs. they'll never get married (unless they make another elaborate bet for Cartman to lose so he has his personal excuse), they'll never have kids, they'll never call each other boyfriends in the public eye, even rarely around friends and family. 'it was a fluke' Cartman keeps saying whenever they're caught in public, 'I lost another bet' he needs his excuse, he needs his reason because he can't just have something this nice.

Kenny on the other hand? oh how he revels in what he's finally attained with a man as untouchable as Cartman. that he can finally have the brunette to himself, that they belong to each other instead of defying a fact as simple as that they should've coupled off so long ago. but again, Cartman needs his reasons, and Kenny respects that, he respects that they'll only be lovers in private and that they'll always be friends in public. because this is good enough, it's almost what he's been waiting for since he was thirteen.

in short: the tension of this fic weighs heavily on Cartman being inwardly homophobic, and to an extent outwardly, despite knowing he wants Kenny. an addition to the tension is Kenny being queer, no fancy labels and entirely out, the entire worlds know at this rate. he is gay and Cartmans safe way to step foot into being a little bit gay despite the idea making him feel ill (he can't, he's failing himself if he is). he can't be romantic with Kenny for a reason as simple as 'i love him' and Kenny will keep giving Cartman all sorts of elaborate schemes and reasons now that the initial barrier is broken.

[gaygobbledygook]

Doodles | Tweek x Craig (fluff oneshot)

Summary: Tweek is by himself at recess at decides to draw

Word count: 1270

Genre: Fluff

(this should not have taken this long, and i’m sorry)

Tweek Tweak was sitting alone at a table by the black top holding his coffee thermos with shaking hands. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he just needed to be alone for a bit. He wasn’t upset just...would rather be by himself. Though, he was getting rather bored.

He looked over at Craig, Token, Clyde and Jimmy playing a game of basketball. He thought of asking if he could join, but the negative possibilities put way too much pressure on him. He sighed and glanced at his bag, which contained paper and markers.

He reached for his bag and dumped out the contents. He took a blue marker and started drawing stars.

Sometimes, Tweek would doodle when he was feeling anxious or apprehensive, which was often. He didn’t do full on art like the asian girls, but just simple sketches of simple things. He’d often doodle simple stuff, like flowers, or coffee, or anything he felt relaxing.

Normally, Tweek was always on edge, but doodling helped him calm him. As soon as his pen touched his paper, his hand would twitch less and he’d feel like he was in a whole nother world.

This time he found himself drawing outer space, with stars, swirls, planets. Thinking of space made him think of Craig, who wanted to be an astronaut.

Craig.

What was Craig to Tweek? That was a question that often plagued the frazzled blonde’s mind.

Was he a friend? Best friend? Fake boyfriend?

….Boyfriend, period?

Though it was ridiculous, and admittedly pretty gay, Tweek wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with Craig. He had this odd sense of comfort and confidence whenever Craig was around. And whenever he talked to him.

Though on the surface, Craig seemed uninterested and monotone, Tweek knew better than that. He had seen a side of Craig that not many had seen. His smile would always cause Tweek to want to smile, too.

Did that make him gay? Probably. But Craig had changed something in Tweek. Whenever Craig seemed down, Tweek did his best to try and fix whatever it was that was making him dejected. It was the least he could do for a person that made him feel the way he did.

Happy, comfortable, cared about...

It didn’t matter if it was gay. Tweek cared about Craig. And was perhaps even smitten for the noirette.

While he was spacing off, nopunintended Tweek started drawing Craig on the page. He put stars in his eyes to symbolize the brightness in them anytime he talked about something he cared about, like his pet Stripe, or outerspace. His eyes would light up whenever he talked about those kinds of subjects.

He smiled at the drawing. Tweek liked Craig the best when he was happy. Because at the same time, it would make him feel happy too.

“Whatcha drawing?” said a nasally voice, who had placed their head on Tweek shoulder, startling the boy.

Tweek snatched the paper, holding it to his chest, and whipped around to see Craig Tucker had come over to greet him.

“J-Jesus Christ, man!” Tweek nearly shrieked, “D-don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Craig held up his hands in surrender,

“Sorry, Sorry.” Despite the jumpy blonde’s outburst, Craig still maintained his usual deadpan expression. “I came over to ask if you wanted to come join us, but you were in the zone, so I decided not to bother you.”

He relaxed a bit to find it was only Craig, but that relief was instantly washed away when he remembered what was in his hand.

“So what’d you draw?”

“N-Nothing!” Tweek shouted hiding the sketch behind his back.

Craig arched an eyebrow. Normally, Tweek wouldn’t be so...defensive about showing his drawings. He wasn’t that terrible of an artist, at least by Craig’s standards.

So why he had refused to show him this drawing puzzled him. And at the same time, burn with curiosity.

“Come on, I won’t make fun of it.” Craig persisted.

“N-No!”

Craig knitted his eyebrows together. This wasn’t working, so he decided to use a different approach.

He looked behind Tweek, smiled, and waved.

“Oh, hi underpants gnomes!”

Tweek whipped around in fear.

“GAh! wHERE?”

Craig snatched the paper out of Tweek’s hand to take a look for himself.

“WAIT! PLEASE DON’T-” But Craig had already seen it. He was slightly surprised, not expecting the drawing to be of him. Although, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting.

He looked back to see Tweek, his face burned from embarrassment and he started rambling apologies.

“I-I’M SO SORRY! I KNOW IT WAS WEIRD TO DRAW YOUR BUT-NGH- OH GOD, I-”

“Dude, calm down, I’m not mad.” Craig reassured him

“Y-you're not?” Tweek asked.

“No. in fact, I kind of like it.” Craig admitted, flustering Tweek even more.

“It’s just, why would you draw me?”

“W-well,” Tweek started to explain, his face still red, “I started drawing space, and then I remembered how much you liked space, then I remembered I draw things that calm me down and so I started drawing you cause you calm down for some reason, but I wasn’t actually gonna show you, because then you would think I was a total weirdo and then you’d never talk to me again, and i’d lose the most important person to me and-”

“Tweek.” Craig interrupted his ranting, “I….I matter that much to you?”

“W-well, yeah.” Tweek calmed down, “You-You make me really happy. When I feel like I’ll fail at anything I try, you're always there to motivate me, and tell me I can do it. Really, you have no idea how good you are for me.” Craig’s face went red at his words.

God, why is he so fucking cute? He thought to himself Dammit gay thoughts

“Uh...hey, Tweek?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...you mind if I….draw something?” Craig felt a bit selfish asking for this. This was Tweek’s way of calming down and focusing. But the blonde had no problem with it.

“Oh, go ahead!”

Craig sat down and grabbed a green marker. Granted, drawing wasn’t really his forte, but he gave it his best shot.

When he was done, he set down the marker and stared at a tree that had become really interesting all of the sudden.

Tweek looked at the drawing that happened to be of him. In the drawing he was smiling, his hands behind his back, and in the background were coffee cups and what appeared to be theatre masks.

Before he could ask, Craig had already started explaining.

“Look, I like you okay? When you're happy about something, it also makes me happy too for some reason. And I thought….well maybe when I feel like shit, and the real things not there, I can just look at this and feel better.”

He pushed back his hair, covering his eyes with his hand, “That just sounds really fucking gay, doesn’t it?”

“No!” Tweek shouted, then lowered his voice, “No, it’’s actually...really sweet.And...I-I know what you mean.”

The boys stared at the ground for a moment, before their making eye contact. They smiled sheepishly at each other, before they hear Clyde shout behind them, startling both of them.

“HEY! IS TWEEK GONNA PLAY OR WHAT?”

Craig glared back at Clyde, but immediately relaxed. “Right.” He glanced back at Tweek offering him his hand,

“wanna come join us?”

Tweek took a double take at Craig's hand before grabbing it.

“S-sure.”

So, hand in hand, they headed to the black top.

“You guys gonna hold hands the whole game?”

“Fuck off, Clyde.”

So the new episode of south park is apparently going to be a Tweek and Craig centered episode, and all I have to say is: Matt and Trey, please go easy on my poor, fragile Creek heart.

[letteredlettered]

Do you have any complaints about HP canon, and if so, what are they? For example I know a lot of people really dont like that Draco didnt get a redemption arc, but your work seems to really thrive off of a close reading of canon Draco in a way I think a lot of fanfic just cant because hes like... a very bad person. Its made me wonder if you are very... canon positive? I guess? Or more positive than most, maybe.

I have too many complaints about HP canon to list in an ask, but I can try to list some of them. First I want to say that choosing to use canon to inform your fic has less to do with whether or not you like the canon and more to do with what you like or want from fanfic. If you don’t like that Draco wasn’t redeemed, you can write a fic that posits he is redeemed and so that canon doesn’t have to be dealt with. Or, you can write a fic that shows how he gets redeemed or deals with the fact of his redemption to show what canon could have been. I obviously prefer the latter style, though I respect anyone’s choice to write in the former style. I can’t say I always understand the former style, but I respect the fact that people want to do it and should if that’s what they want.

I will say that I’m not sure I’ve ever written a fic that’s fully canon compliant, and I can’t quite imagine wanting to. Most of my fics a response to canon--they’re about something that wasn’t in canon, that I wish was in canon; or they’re about something that wasn’t in canon, and I don’t want to be in canon, but I still want to be explored. I wish the MCU would actually deal with the responsibility of wielding outsized power of destruction, so I wrote MCU fics. I do not want Schitt’s Creek to deal with the darkness of David Rose’s trauma or past, but I was still interested in it, so I wrote darker SC fic. I love Star Trek TOS, but I want to see Kirk and Spock hook up, so I wrote TOS fic.

There are a few things where I like the canon just the way it is, so I don’t write fic for it. Rainbow Rowell’s Carry On series is just what I want. I don’t need to write fic.

Back to my complaints with HP canon, the major problem I had was a lot of set up without the follow-through I expected or desired. I discussed that in my tumblr posts about Ron and Ginny. The set up of the Harry Potter universe is rather black and white, which I appreciate--it’s easy to get invested; it’s easy to consume. You know who the good guys are right away, and there’s no more complication. LOTR is rather like that, and I love it. But then HP begins to deconstruct its premise--James Potter was good, but he wasn’t kind. Dumbledore was trying to stop Voldemort, but he wasn’t honest. Snape is a horrible person, but he’s trying to do the right thing. This is my favorite sort of story, the one that starts black and white--vampires are evil; the robots will kill us, and the Gems that didn’t rebel are the enemy. Then a vampire earns his soul, or you find out you’re a robot, or--well, actually I didn’t like where Stephen Universe really went with that, but you get the picture. The Harry Potter series began the process of turning its own premise inside out, but somewhere in Halfblood Prince, that got too hard, and things began to snap back to their original shape. Good is good, actually, and bad people will always be bad.

One example of this is the death of Voldemort. Harry is set up as a mirror to Voldemort. Their pasts are very similar. Harry even feels compassion for Voldemort. At several different points, Harry is faced with the fact that he has to kill Voldemort. But Harry never has to deal with killing Voldemort, or with making a decision to spare Voldemort. In the end, Voldemort causes his own end as a result of his own destructive tendencies. This makes me feel that the text is suggesting that Voldemort deserves death. The idea that anyone “deserves” death for bad things they’ve done is not something I believe in or ascribe to. But even if it is the argument the text wants to make--what was the point of showing us that Tom Riddle was lonely, hurt, feared, and probably mistreated? The point really appears to be to show that two boys can have the same background and one turns out good while the other turns out bad, because goodness is inherent to some people while evil is inherent to others. I find this conclusion abhorrent, but I feel the conclusion is ultimately borne out by plenty of other aspects of the HP books.

The other example is Draco’s lack of redemption. I do not think villains have to be redeemed. The world has proven that shitty people can remain shitty. I also appreciate stories that show us the humanity of shitty people. A story about someone who is faced with thier bad choices but continues to make bad choices because they’re too afraid to do otherwise can be a good story. But I guess with Draco, I felt like I saw enough of his inner turmoil to understand why his heart would change, but not a thorough explanation of why it wouldn’t. Combined with many other similar characterizations in HP canon, it just feels like more essentialism--bad people are bad, and that’s how it is. I don’t mean there’s no nuance--as I said, the series does begin to deconstruct its own premise; we even saw how the Trio could be shitty. But ultimately they make the right choices. The characters who make the wrong choices generally continue to make them, except for Snape and Dudley. My complaint with those two representing a change of heart is that we don’t get to see the actual painful process of what that looks like--Snape’s happens pre-canon and there is too little of Dudley to show what is going on in Dudley’s brain.

The last thing I absolutely hate about HP is a lot of the “bad” characters tend to be overweight or unappealing in appearance. It’s true that a lot of this might be Harry’s POV--maybe Snape actually is the sex god some fics make him out to be, and Harry just he’s greasy because he doesn’t like him, and maybe Harry doesn’t like a good hook nose (I do). Additionally, Lockhart is very pretty, and while I want to firmly stress that Draco is never describes as good-looking, he’s not really described as ugly, and I believe Narcissa is even described as beautiful. But the book isn’t written in close third-person Harry POV, and “pointy” isn’t very flattering. Unkind words and stereotypes are used throughout to highlight the badness or evil of almost all the characters we’re not “supposed to” like. The descriptions of the Dursleys in particular are upsetting.

In my opinion, the  above examples demonstrate a lack of compassion at the heart of the HP story. That’s what I’ve always hated about it and what always made me want to write about it. I want to write and say, “Look at this. This is fucked up. This is wrong.” Some people don’t read fic for that reason, and I think that’s fine. Plenty of those people really hate my fic, which is also fine. I know that many things in this world lack compassion, and I don’t spend years of my life writing fanfic about them. I think the reason I keep coming back is to me, the premise was unkind--which I was fine with, and then the text itself began to deconstruct itself--which I was overjoyed by. It made me fall in love with the series. But when the premise snapped back to an essentially black and white world, I felt betrayed.

In conclusion, I find HP at its very essence to be unkind. Ursula K Le Guin said it best when she said that it was “ethically rather mean-spirited.”

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

I’m kind of new to tumblr so idk if this is the correct way to ask for something to be written so sorry!!! 👉👈

If it is can I ask for Nozel and fuegoleon coming home from work tired, and they lay next to us and sleep <33

Hello~! ^_^

And welcome to Tumblr! Yes, this is indeed how you request for a fic <3 Awww this was such a cute ask, so thank you for sending it in! I hope you like the results ^_^

Pairing: Nozel x gn!reader; Fuegoleon x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Nozel Silva

Nozel’s brows twitched as he made his way towards your shared bedroom, irritation and exhaustion making his limbs feel heavy as he grit his teeth. Work felt like an endless ocean, where he could move forward as much as he wanted, only to be pulled back twice the distance. No matter how far he got, it was never enough, it was always lacking and not good enough. His frustration was a sea in that ocean, swirling and raging, making his emotions clash against his insides and his blood boil. But in the end, his emotions, and his efforts, were only swept around by the current around him. After all, a sea is smaller than an ocean.

He opened the bedroom door, walking in just as always, caught up in his thoughts. But then he became painfully aware of how silent and dimly lit the room was. The sound of wood scraping against the doorframe rang so clearly in his ears as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. But even if his eyes hadn’t adjusted, even if he had become blind, he would have known the peaceful mana that lingered on the bed; your mana.

His body tensed, as if the darkness had taken a hold of him, grasping onto him, while he concentrated on listening any signs of you shifting in the bed, the sound of sheets rustling. But that didn’t come. Instead, what he heard, was the subtle song of you, drawing breath. The melody, of you, just… being there.

Little by little your form became clear to him, sleeping blissfully under the covers, your hand stretched out onto the other side, searching for him. And that sight, the knowledge of you, looking for him, it made his tension melt. Both, the roaring sea and the ocean that swallowed it all, became silent. They stopped existing. And all that remained, was you, your embrace that beckoned him, and the soft, warm bed that called out to him.

The steps that he took from there on, along with each motion that he made, was quiet and careful, almost as if he was scared to even breath in fear of waking you up. He changed as far from the bed as possible, hoping not to disturb you, and made his way across the cold floor that made frost climb up his legs, making him shiver.

But as he parted the covers of the bed and climbed in, he felt as if he had been admitted to heaven itself. He felt as if he was being embrace by an angel, and he thought that perhaps all the sins that weighed his bones, might be granted salvation.

“I love you,” he whispered while wrapping his arm around you and planting a kiss, soft and delicate as the first blossom of springtime, onto your forehead. And so, he closed his eyes, drifting off into a blessed dream.

Fuegoleon Vermillion

A heavy sigh echoed around the corridor as a set of steps made their way towards their destination. And the tired sound belonged to none other than your beloved vermillion haired spouse Fuegoleon, to whom working late into the night was nothing new. But lately he had found it all collecting onto his shoulders, and little by little the pressure and the responsibilities had started taking their toll. The toll, and the weight of the very world around him, made his shoulders slouch further down.

He felt as if he was walking in deep water, treading through because that was the only way forward, even if it meant staying up well into the night, on most days, which was why walking in to your shared bedroom quietly as a mouse, was already a habit to him. He already knew just how wide he could open the door without making it creek, and he the route through the room to the bed with changing to nightwear, with minimal steps was imprinted into his mind.

And as he went through the motions, his attention was caught by you, sleeping on his side of the bed, hugging his pillow tightly. The sight made him stand still, only watching how your chest rise and fell like clockwork, and listening how the lull of your breathing washed away his worries.

His lips turned into a smile and his gaze cascaded over you as he adored in you perfect silence. His posture straightened, as if gravity had loosened its grip of him, making him feel lighter. The steps that followed, as he made his way around the bed onto your side, felt to him as if he was floating. And as he climbed into the bed with you, warmth enveloped him.

But not the warmth of fire and flames, the heavy damp air of summer time, or volcanic regions. No, the warmth that enveloped him, was the one that resonated from you and made him feel relaxed and his eyelids heavy. The warmth that he felt from you reached down to his very core, wrapping around his heart as he slid across the sheets and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close.

The scent of your shampoo flowed to him through the dim room as he dispelled his fire arm and closed his eyes. He no longer felt tense and heavy, but instead as if he was melting into the soft mattress underneath the two of you. The sound of your breathing and the sensation of your back gracing his chest with each breath you took, assured him that you were there.

And so, he couldn’t remember what had been troubling him. All his worries had dissipated into the air, leaving only you, his guiding star in the dark of the night. So, sleep overtook him, your gentle presence being his lullaby, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[profmori]

;Daiharu au 💴🌸💎

Summary : Haru Kato overworked himself as usual and Daisuke is trying to take care of him.

Note : yeh! first tumblr fic, let's get it ✨😗✌️

Haru sometimes hated his job.

Or rather he hated his strong sense of justice, which made him constantly push his boundaries to do what was right. Most of the first division members usually shied out when he asked them for help, and no way in the world he could go to Daisuke Kambe for the same.

Everyone tells him to lay off multiple times but he doesn't needs them to take care of him, damn it.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

Haru fell back in his chair, making the rusty old thing creek in protest. Everyone turned around to witness his loud and grumpy arrival, probably testing the waters before making a move. He paid them little to no attention, knowing he'll lash out otherwise.

The board gave him a hard time, the first division gave him a hard time, Daisuke blew him off like nothing and then Cho-san yelled at him --- Haru straight up wasn't having the best day. Now the last thing he needed was more people pestering him.

Luck, however, wasn't on his side.

The phone on his table starting ringing the moment Haru got comfortable in his chair, the loud sound made the headache double up a few notches. Haru tsked and picked up the receiver, putting it against his ear.

“yes?”

“Oh my god!” the lady at the other end screamed. “Pleass hurry there has been a robbery at my store, everything is wrecked.”

Haru tried to hide his sigh. “Please stay calm and tell me your address. Don't be alone in the house, as it might be dangerous and don't touch anything until help arrives.”

The lady hurried up with details as much as she could while simultaneously sobbing into the speaker, somewhere in the distance was a dog barking at her. Haru kept down the receiver and turned to Kamie, holding up the slip of paper with the address on it.

“There has been a robbery, can you go and see to it?” Haru asked, waiting patiently as the other completed typing on his computer. Kamie looked up with a guilt ridden smile, rubbing the back of his neck as he fumbled for an answer.

“You see, I've been dead tired after all the cardio you put me through---”

“Nevermind.” Haru cut in,“I'll take care of it myself.”

Haru stood up rather fast, making his head go blank for a solid second. He managed to hold himself up just before he could fall forward, the sudden movement causing the table to shake with impact and catch everyone's attention.

“Are you okay?” Mahoro asked, her hand stopped midway with a candy between her fingers. The pink haired officer gave him a worried look. “Would you liked this limited addition candy?”

“I'll pass.” Haru waved his hand and went out of the office lounge, momentarily leaned against the wall to regain his left over energy --- only god knew how worse the robbery was going to be, he needed to get every bit of patience and energy to deal with it.

Once sure that he wasn't going to collapse, Haru shrugged on his jacket and went to the crime scene.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Ah Kambe-san.” Kamie called out as Daisuke entered the room, the millionaire gave him a nod and went over to his desk. The inspector pulled Daisuke down to talk quietly into his ear.

“Is there a problem?” Daisuke asked, his voice even like it always have been. Kamie felt himself shiver at the calculated coldness in his eyes, he has to shake his head to get back on his tongue.

“Did something happen with Haru and you?”

Daisuke stared at him for a long moment, eyebrows lightly scrunched in concentration. Then he simply shook his head in denial, making Kamie sigh in confusion. He was well aware of Haru's habits of pushing himself too far, but there was no way you could stop him from doing so.

“Could you please go and check on him then?” Kamie asked with a requested smile, pressing his hands in a prayer position and ducked his head. “I'm afraid he might pass out or something.”

“Okay.” Daisuke said and straightened up, fixing his suit as he exited the lounge for second time this day. “HEUSC track Haru Kato's location.”

“The location has been found.”

Daisuke got in his car and glanced over to the screen, a map displayed in front of him with a green dot blinking inside a cafe. He got the car in ignition and put it on the road the moment it's engine roared.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Ehhh . . . what do you mean it wasn't a robbery?”

The woman in front of him laughed in embarrassment, a blush spread across her pale cheeks. Beside her, in a vile grip was a child yelling at her to let go, probably the culprit of the robbery. She bowed to Haru while winding up apologies, forcing the kid down with a hand pressed on his head.

“S-Sorry inspector, my son and his friends created a ruckus before I opened the cafe. I panicked and thought it was a robbery.”

“Are you sure everyone in safe here?” Haru asked; Except for the kid obviously, he thought but knew better than to voice it, his mouthy self already got him in trouble multiple times, he didn't want anything more.

“Yes inspector, our apologies for the inconvenience.” She said again and forced the son to say sorry as well, which Haru just accepted with a laugh. He then nodded to the lady and made his way out of the cafe, yawning as he started walking back to the office, his body however was screaming for him to rest.

Haru stopped as a sleek black car pulled up next to him, a colour and design he was all to familiar with now. The door opened with a smooth motion, inside seated was Daisuke with his usual bored expression, the one that seriously ticked him off.

“Oi Kambe, what are you doing here?”

“I was told to pick you up.” He replied monotonously,“Please get in the car before the traffic rolls up.”

Haru didn't want to be anywhere near Daisuke right now but he found himself rushing over inside the car and sighing once he was able to shut himself in the silent atmosphere. He may not admit out loud but Daisuke's car was more comfortable than his bed --- soft seats, warmth and his rich perfume. Haru instantly felt like he was going to fall asleep, and that would have been embarrassing.

“So what makes you come here?” he decided to ask instead.

“I was told to pick you up.”

“And you agreed?”

“Yes.” Haru didn't expect him to say anything more to so he just let it drop, but Daisuke cleared his throat and continued. “And I owed you an apology.”

Haru was in no mood for having that conversation so he just shrugged it off and let his eyes stay fixed outside the window, looking at nothing in particular. Daisuke waited for an answer before he decided better than to question him further.

“Are you tired?” Daisuke asked as he killed the engine and Haru shook his head, hurrying out of the car before he could seriously fall asleep. He shut the door to cut off any further complaints, making his way back to the office and hopefully avoiding Daisuke any further. Thankfully, the conversation never came up again, not until the shutting time atleast.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

“Haru are you sure you're staying back?”

“Yeah I need to write the report for today.”

“Okayy, bye!” everyone cheered as the hurried out of the office, glad that the day was finally over. Haru watched them leave, wincing when the door shut loudly after the departing crowd.

He let his head fall on the table and groaned. The cursor blink on the empty sheet of the word document, waiting to be worked on; problem was Haru's lack of motivation, he couldn't even lay it off with the board monitoring him and finding all the ways to pick more mistakes on him. It would he easier on their pockets if they could cut more of pay --- and with the deadline for his rent, a pay cut was the last thing he needed right now.

So with the last bit of energy left in him, Haru rolled his sleeved his sleeves up and got to work.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

Daisuke stared at the empty cup holder and realized that he left his wallet in the office, he killed the engine and got off the car. The last bit of left workers nodded as they moved past him, rushing out to go back home. He wasn't half surprised to find Haru bend over his computer and typing sluggishly, his eye bags reached on the floor and casted a dark edge to his golden eyes.

“Kamie? . . . no Kambe." He mumbled his words,"What are you doing here?"

“I left my wallet.”

Haru nodded and went back to typing, taking a sip out of coffee which was most likely cold by now. As Daisuke crossed him, he could see Haru shivering in his seat and having trouble to get a better grip of his coffee. He watched him struggle.

“You need to rest.” Daisuke said.

“As if the guy who threw up off the bridge would care.” Haru replied and then his words turned quiet. “Nobody cares.”

“huh?”

Haru send him a simple shrug and got to work again, mumbling as he typed, backspacing more and actually writing something. Daisuke then turned his head and spoke into the ear piece.

“HEUSC type the report for the incident today.”

“Command in processor. Estimate completion time in 10 minutes.”

“Let's go--- Haru!” Daisuke grabbed him just in time, saving him from hitting his head on the table edge. Haru groaned and fell against Daisuke's torso, eyes barely open and sweat pooled over his eyebrows; despite the obvious temperature rise, he was shivering. “Come with me.”

“I'm fine!” he said, words mingled into each other. “Just a little bit---”

“You just passed out.” Daisuke removed his glove and pressed his hand against Haru's forehead, feeling it burning under his cool skin. Haru straightened himself up, pressing a firm hand against Daisuke's torso too keep him at the arm length.

“I said I'm fine.” he said,“If I don't complete this by today, they'll probably fire me. Unlike you some people are limited on their resources Kambe.”

“I told HEUSC to do it for you.” He replied,“For now just come with me.”

“Why? Give me a reason.”

“To apologize.” He said without missing a beat .

“What for?”

“For everything.” Daisuke said.

Haru could only stare. He wanted to say no and deal with himself, since Daisuke also did the same. The last thing he wanted was to become a burden on someone who refused his help.

He was a burden.

Denial almost went past his mouth but stopped when Daisuke reached out and grabbed his hand, his fingers cold against Haru's wrist. The millionaire's face was stoic as ever but his words were soft.

“Haru . . come with me.”

Seemed like he wasn't getting anywhere with denial tonight.

. . . . 💴🌸💎

continues part two

[unfolded73]

A comment on another post by a recent Schitt’s Creek mutual got me thinking about fandom lineage. For any recent followers, or for any followers who are like, why was I following this person again?, here’s mine:

Pre-internet (or pre-me realizing fandoms existed on the internet): In the 1980s, Santa Barbara, Ghostbusters, Moonlighting, and a very short-lived show starring Parker Stevenson called Probe (which in retrospect was a Doctor x companion-style 2-hander and also omg in googling to try to remember what the hell this show was called I realized that all of it is on youtube. fuck me, it’s not gonna hold up at all, is it?) In the 1990s, Star Trek:TNG (yes, I am *very* excited about Picard, thanks for asking), The Simpsons, MST3K, Babylon 5, and Farscape. Farscape might have been the first show where I started to realize internet fandom existed. I remember downloading fan-videos and maybe reading some John x Aeryn fic. (Man, I need to rewatch Farscape*.)

2001-2003: Buffy x Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. My first foray into fic writing, but please don’t go looking for it. It’s bad. Mainly I watched fandom drama and ship wars (hey, I shipped Buffy and Angel too in their time - it’s all good) playing out in yahoo groups, so it was also my first exposure to how toxic fandom can be. Also fell down an Angel x Spike and Buffy x Faith rabbit hole on occasion, back when it seemed ooh, so subversive. 

2007-2011: Ten x Rose and Ten2 x Rose, Doctor Who. Livejournal was my haunt in those days. Made leaps and bounds of improvement as a writer in this fandom, and made some long-lasting friendships. I also played around in the shallow end of the multishipping pool, and I read and wrote a bit of Ten x Jack, Jack x Ianto, Ten x Master, Ten x Queen Elizabeth (before the 50th anniversary special, yuck), Ten x Rose x Jack, and of course the thing that I and my coauthor are moderately famous for, Ten x Ten2 x Rose. Tried to hang on into the Moffat era but eventually bailed from both fandom and the show. Loving Jodie Whittaker though! Even wrote one gen fic about her and Graham last year!

2013: Pepperony, Iron Man/Avengers. This hardly warrants a mention, but I did read fic around the time of Iron Man 3, and I only mention it because I was inspired to write grief-fic for this ship just a few months ago. 

2014-2015: Ben x Leslie, Parks and Recreation. I debated about putting this on the list, because I never wrote any fic or participated in fandom culture other than to read a few fics, mainly by one author who somehow managed to capture the right silly/sexy balance. Mostly I rewatched the show a lot and soaked in that sweet, sweet serotonin. 

2016-2018: Captain Swan, Once Upon a Time. Never have I shipped something so intensely from a show that I didn’t particularly even like most of the time. Also dabbled in Millian, Curious Archer, and Knightrook, which apparently makes me a fake fan in some corners of fandom. *shrug* Didn’t care then and care even less now.

2018: Starmora, Guardians of the Galaxy. Look, I need hours and hours of TV episodes to sustain myself in a fandom, so I only dabbled here when the angst of Infinity War inspired me. But I consider my interest in this temporarily suspended, ready to rise from the ashes when James Gunn finally gets around to making GotG3.

2019: Ashburn, Star Trek: Discovery. I was only starting to really get into this when the show writers seemingly abandoned this ship permanently. I wanted to stick with it, maybe throw canon out the window and live in a fanon world where this ship is still sailing the high (subspace) seas, but I just didn’t have the mental fortitude for that. Which is probably why...

2019-????: David x Patrick, Schitt’s Creek. I started watching this because a couple of mutuals from Captain Swan fandom were posting cute gifs, and I felt like I needed another Parks and Rec-like warm and squishy show to get a serotonin hit from. Boy, did I ever. My descent from “aww, aren’t they cute” to writing fic was 9 days (seriously, I just checked tumblr and my google drive version history to get that number), and I had to drive from Chicago to South Carolina in the middle of that. I fell hard, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be here for a while.

No, it has not escaped my notice that there is a marked uptick in the frequency  here. I think that’s probably tumblr, and the fact that you can see a mutual is into a thing and then follow them down into the same hole. Which is cool, I like that. I also am certainly aware that I’m mainly a het shipper, but that’s because I tend to be rely very heavily on canon. Unless I see it portrayed on-screen, it usually doesn’t occur to me to ship something. What can I say, I fundamentally lack imagination.

* ETA: Ok I just checked the dates and Farscape ran 1999-2003? So I guess it overlapped with Buffy? I don’t remember it that way at all. Huh.

[lordjenjen-does-discourse]

That's cool too! (I feel like a mixed of all these things, along with each other sharing their interests/hobbies and providing support in their own ways, prevents couples from feeling same-y when written. Though people can have their smut. Just feel like it's a territory not often explored, y'know?)

This is why I'm such a hard core multi shipper. You can explore different avenues with one charater, or even one ship, but to me, you need to broaden your horizons a bit. Tweek and Craig's relationship would be completely different from Tweek and Stan. Sure you could write a Tweek and Craig story where maybe Stan would fit in between, because you justify anything with "they are 10, you never know how they will grow up." But your limiting yourself to a very narrow path.

Some people out there aren't going to like my reasoning on why you don't see nearly as many fics exploring just the relationship aspect of charaters anymore.

For me personally, it falls into 2 reasons. Motivation and Spite.

I'll start with spite. There is no lack of knowledge that there are some people out there that are trying to police fandoms in general. While I enjoy writing smut, it's not necessarily my go to, but these people drive me so up the wall with "You can't do bleh because it's problematic," and can't see why they themselves are the problem. I can be stupid spiteful sometimes and it leads to me writing shit just because I can, as a fuck you, which happens to be a lot of smut and just shit posts of fics.

Motivation is also a big reasoning though, and this is true for A LOT of authors and artists. Unless you are writing one particular pairing, and often unless you're writing them a certain way, you're not going to get any attention. And what attention you do get is just like "I read this!" There's no kudos, no comments, no sharing of your Tumblr post. It's like you're just throwing all of your work into the void in hopes two people will be like "nice" as it passes by them. It's demoralizing which in turn leads to less content.

There's also the harassment people get from the previously mentioned bit of fandoms. Not a lot of people can read the amount of hate being thrown at them and still be like "Ah yes! I should continue my 200k Crenny slow burn! That it appears only 10 people are reading."

Yes artists and writers do it as a hobby, but when no one appreciates your work, you kind of just call it quits. I totally love writing all aspects of relationships, there are so many WIPs sitting in my folder labeled South Park on Google Drive! But the motivation to finish them come in waves. And I know that's true for others. We get burnt out from the real world or different projects, we have a hard time feeling motivated to keep going, the hate is real, and the lack of response from anything not Creek is demoralizing. But when that one comment comes across, you get a pump of motivation to go again.

So there are three really good ways to show you'd like to see more of something.

First off, you can usually find the creator on a social media platform. Not a whole lot of them hide. You can drop them a message and be like "I really like the way you write blehblorb. If you're taking requests or anything, would you write them on like a date night?" Or whatever it is you'd like to see. Most authors will be nice as long as your nice and either tell you yes or no. Don't harass, just ask nicely. If they have something in the works already, they are more likely to continue it.

Second way, is to comment the fuck out of something you like. I know people say this all the time, but I can't tell you how motivated I get when I get spammed with a series of reblogs and comments. God I fucking love that shit and will dive back into a related project. I have like three long ones I'm working on.

Third way, and I know we say it a lot as well, is to create the content you want to see. Part of why writing for something not popular gets you down is because you look and you're the last 5 fics created and 2/3 the fics. If people see something is bopping, they'll feel the motivation through that as well. Even if you think you're fic isn't good or your writing sucks, you're adding content to something unpopular, it's already going to get love and affection. And if people do the second thing of actually showing that love and affection for this rare thing, then it creates a cycle and more people want to create.

I did not mean to turn this into a sermon, it just happens. But yeah, I love writing the romance and the getting together part of relationships and this ask just makes me more motivated to write on my Steek and coffee shop au you didn't ask for but are totally getting.

[lambicpentametre]

The Once and Future Queen: Chapter 1 debrief

Because Buzzfeed Unsolved is one of my favorite web series, I thought it would be fun to do a debrief for each chapter and address some of the comments I got from ao3. You’re always welcome to leave comments there or drop them directly here on tumblr, whichever makes you more comfortable. 

To start off, both the title of the story and this chapter comes from a quote from T.H. White’s The Once and Future King. I deliberately chose the chapter title because I knew I was going to call this fic The Once and Future Queen, and it felt right to have the first chapter from the source. While White’s retelling of Arthurian legend is one of the most popular today, it is important to note that it was written in the 20th century and is a product of its time; it deals a lot with the horrors of World War II (which I’ll get to later) and the need to see things from other people’s point of view. 

That was important to me for two reasons: 

As the title implies, Alina is King Arthur; she will return to her power when she is most needed and draw Excalibur to prove her worth as the rightful king.

The narrators (plural) are all seeing the events of the story unfold from their own biased views. Even a reader (and myself as the writer) has inherent bias. We all want a happy (or at least satisfying) ending for Alina, but I also wanted to show the events taking place from another point of view. Alina’s story thus far has been focused on her pain and delirium, but if we look at things from Aleksander’s view (which is absolutely, 100% not an excuse for him), he’s being stymied by her stubbornness and wants to keep pushing her. (Again, he’s not a good person.)

For more information on The Once and Future King, I recommend this Vox article. You can find an online copy of The Once and Future King here from Project Gutenberg, a free archive of classic literature. 

Here’s the full quote from the chapter title:

“Now, in their love, which was stronger, there were the seeds of hatred and fear and confusion growing at the same time: for love can exist with hatred, each preying on the other, and this is what gives it its greatest fury.” - The Once and Future King, T.H. White

This comes from an exchange between Lancelot and Guinevere, after a misunderstanding between the couple fails to be cleared up because of miscommunication. After this, the love between Lancelot and Guinevere is never the same, and they begin to doubt each other. Although for all intents and purposes, Alina is an allegory for King Arthur, I thought this quote fit her relationship with Aleksander well following the events of Second Best. I should note that in this story, even though he’s got a shit way of showing it, Aleksander does care for Alina more than he does Svetlana. He’s a very misguided man. (I understand that he’s ordering her torture, but bear with me. I have a theory that Aleksander has a theory, and he’s just really bad at being a functioning human being with emotions and healthy relationships.)

Onto the World War II aspect.

There are two reasons I wanted to base the research ethics around WWII. 

J. Robert Oppenheimer and the development of the first atomic bomb 

Nazi Experimentation. (To Thma on ao3 who noted this, you’re bang on the money.)

Both of these situations ended with a catastrophic loss of life, all in the “pursuit of science.” We’ll get more into why Oppenheimer and his dilemma are so important to this story in later chapters. I don’t really need to explain why the Nazi experimentation is extremely unethical, but the body horror and lack of informed consent Alina goes through are meant to mirror that and show that she’s up shit’s creek. 

[ellenembee]

The Revelation of All Things - 37. In which a nomad grows tentative roots

Read the full fic on AO3.

Read on Tumblr (desktop)

On their sixth evening in the Emerald Graves, they checked in at the main Inquisition camp, retrieved the day's correspondence, and headed to a nearby stream to relax for a few moments. Evana now sat on a log a little up the hill from the stream as Dorian and Bull washed up from a particularly nasty set of rift demons. Varric sat to her left, cleaning Bianca, of course.

In the pile of reports, Evana found a small note with Leliana's flowing "L" written across the seal and opened it immediately, her curiosity piqued by the tiny scrap of paper so different from the typical missives from Skyhold. She nearly cried when she read it. Leliana's message was nice - sweet, even - though the tone made Evana feel a little bit like she was failing them. But Cullen's addition left her almost sick with longing.

Samson can wait. Come home. -C

He wanted her home. She had a home, now. Why did that feel like a first?

She put her head in her hands and breathed heavily into her worn leather gloves. She should ask for a new pair, but the gift from Harritt had been her first connection to the Inquisition that hadn't felt like something given grudgingly to a prisoner. She'd received many gifts after that, of course, but Harritt's kindness to her in those first few weeks had made her feel wanted. Welcome. As if Haven could be a home, even if only until they closed the Breach. Then, each friend she'd made along the way had forged another link in the chain that bound her to this group, this cause.

But Cullen made it real. Cullen made it feel like home. And despite how claustrophobic the fortress sometimes felt, leaving Skyhold... leaving him got harder each time. She'd adjusted to the long separation, but she still missed him terribly at times, especially when alone. Thankfully, the company of her friends kept the larger part of her melancholy at bay. She couldn't have asked for better companions.

"You alright there, Snowflake?"

Evana startled and looked up. Speaking of...

"Yes... yes, of course. Just... tired."

Varric let out a grunt. She could tell he was about to say something more, but Dorian's laughter coming from the creek caught their attention. Evana glanced over to see the Iron Bull sauntering out of the creek wearing absolutely nothing. Elves didn't have issues with nudity like most humans, but the Qunari was something else altogether. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and turned away, half laughing and half embarrassed. She hadn't blushed that hotly since Dorian tried to get her to talk about Cullen's... attributes during their time in the Western Approach. She had, of course, flatly refused to talk about it. There wasn't much to talk about, anyway, but Dorian didn't need to know that.

"Creators, Bull! Cover that thing up! You'll scare off the natives and all the wildlife." She glanced over again, but Bull just laughed at her and turned around to show off his backside. She rolled her eyes. "What am I going to do with you, Bull?! And people think we Dalish are savages..."

"You know you like it!"

Evana let out an exasperated sigh. She shared a smile with Varric who then shouted back, "I'm sure someone likes it, isn't that right, Sparkler?"

Dorian let out a haughty, fake laugh. "What was that, dwarf? I couldn't hear your sad attempt at humor over the sound of my own brilliant sarcasm."

Varric chuckled, and Evana gave the dwarf a knowing look. Bull and Dorian had been playing cat and mouse the entire trip... well, in truth, Bull had mostly been baiting Dorian with highly descriptive come-ons. It was equal parts hysterically funny and a little bit uncomfortable for her, especially considering how graphic Bull's come-ons tended to be. Dorian met each attempt with disdain, but she wondered if, underneath it all, Dorian wasn't a bit pleased with the attention.

Turning back, she saw Bull and Dorian emerging from the water, the former still naked as the day he was born, the latter properly covered with a swath of fabric. Shivering slightly at the idea of the water, she began packing up her reports and other items, placing them on a relatively clean portion of her lap.

They'd set up a few other outposts to help hold the Emerald Graves, but each night, she'd asked the others to return with her to the main forward camp. She wanted to send her daily report and then sleep in a familiar place. What she really wanted, though, was to be back in her warm bed at Skyhold underneath a mountain of blankets. Exhaustion pierced through her every bone and sinew. She felt as if she could sleep a thousand years, and the warmth of her comfortable shemlen bed called to her. Shivering again, she thought about washing the blood and ichor off her armor, but quickly discarded the idea as the very thought of cold water made her cringe and curl in on herself as she organized her papers.

She furrowed her brows as she folded the note from Skyhold and the letters she'd picked up from the smugglers. For the first time, wondered if she might be a little ill. Something had felt off for a while now, but she couldn't quite place it. The mild weather in the Emerald Graves should have been a refreshing change, especially compared to the sandy dry heat of the Western Approach, but she'd been so cold and tired that she could hardly enjoy it. She tried to remember when she'd started feeling off...

"Shit," she cursed under her breath.

She'd noticed faint chills the day of their visit to the temple in the oasis. She'd managed to open all the doors in the cold magic tombs before she'd run out of shards. Why she hadn't put two and two together before, she had no idea. The heat of the Western Approach had perhaps made it less noticeable? Fear pricked at the back of her mind as she wondered whether she might have done herself real harm. Time to go home.

"Good news, everyone!" she called out suddenly. "We ride for Skyhold tomorrow at dawn."

Bull just gave the thumbs up from his seat down by the creek, but Dorian looked at her with relief written all over his face as he shouted up to her. "Finally! I'll need a hot bath, a bed and a large glass of wine the instant we arrive, not necessarily in that order. Maybe two glasses of wine... or a whole bottle."

To her left, Varric's softer voice chimed in. "I'm also glad to hear that, Snowflake. We've had a rough time with so much traveling around." Varric paused cleaning Bianca to give Evana a discerning look. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Varric had already mentioned his concern a couple of times in the past few days, but she'd laughed it off, assured him she was just tired. She tried to uncurl herself, but now that she'd recognized the illness, it seemed that much stronger.

"I'm just tired, Varric. And... cold."

Varric gave her the "Aww, shit!" look. "You're cold? How can you be cold in this weather?"

"I - I don't know. I just am. I think..." She paused and looked away, blushing slightly, then turned back to give him a sardonic smile. "... I might be having a reaction to the magic from the temple."

The look intensified. "Andraste's tits! Yeah, we're definitely heading back tomorrow. And next time, don't try to be a hero. Let us know you're not feeling well, will you?"

"I didn't really notice until now," she offered weakly. "It's subtle. And I think it's worse because of the lack of sleep."

Varric stood up and snapped Bianca in place on his back. "Alright, that's it. Get up. You're going to bed right now."

She frowned and looked at the sky. "But it's only seven... maybe seven thirty..."

"And you'll be asleep before eight. Come on, your Inquisitorialness. Let's go." He turned to the other two, who were still sitting together down by the creek. "Snowflake and I are heading back to camp. Remember, we're leaving before dawn, so don't stay up too late."

"Yes, mother," Dorian called back as he waved them off. "I'll be sure to clean my teeth and wash behind my ears before bed, too."

Varric walked with her up the hill to the camp and found her an empty tent. After she pulled off her soiled armor, she reemerged to request a few blankets. She caught the odd looks out of the corner of her eyes, but in the end, she walked back to her tent with an armful of blankets and assurances that she was welcome to them - no one else wanted them in this weather. Varric had stayed behind to speak to the ranking officer in the camp, and soon after, she noticed that the camp had gone from noisy to dead silent. For her. So she could sleep. Such deference still made her uncomfortable, but she couldn't complain. In the quiet, the sounds of the forest gradually seeped into her tent, cradling her in familiarity - the perfect lullaby for a forest nomad.

As she piled the blankets on top of her and huddled into a ball to conserve warmth, she sent up a small prayer of thanks to her gods - all of them - that she'd been blessed with such amazing friends. It took some time to warm up enough to sleep, but she felt herself drifting soon enough. She fell asleep to the sound of Varric speaking quietly to someone outside her tent.

 **

 Dorian glared at her disapprovingly as they rode side-by-side down the path. "Varric and I spoke last night, and we've agreed - you're never to be trusted with your own health again. If I'd known about your previous issues taking care of yourself in the Fallow Mire, I would've been more alert to your idiocy."

Evana could think of nothing to say, so she remained silent. This seemed to irritate Dorian even more.

"Honestly, Evana, I thought you had more sense than this."

"Clearly, I don't, so you can stop being surprised from here on out."

Her tone came out flat, the exhaustion she felt exhibited in every labored breath between phrases. She wasn't angry. Not really. She knew his reaction came from his fear for her. But his sarcastic disapproval made it difficult for her to speak the reassuring words she knew he wanted to hear - that she would be fine, that it was nothing.

In truth, she didn't know if it was nothing. Her body shook involuntarily from the cold, but it hadn't seemed to worsen since yesterday evening. The exhaustion still plagued her, but the long sleep last night had taken the edge off. She needed Solas to reassure her. How could she comfort Dorian before then?

She'd long ago realized that she no longer had the luxury of surety - if she'd ever really had it. People wanted assurance that she could defeat Corypheus. That she'd been sent by Andraste. But she couldn't tell them that for sure. Josephine seemed to think it necessary to reassure people she was, in fact, Andraste's Herald, but it felt like a lie. Just like reassuring Dorian now would feel like a lie.

"Well, you could at least be a little sorry about it," he muttered.

She sighed heavily and then shivered violently. Dorian reached out to rub her back, and she immediately felt the warmth radiating off his hand. She leaned into his hand while giving him a grateful smile.

"OK. I'm sorry," she placated. "Does that help?"

His hand remained, pouring glorious warmth into her body, but his voice turned petulant. "Not really."

"Will you keep doing that anyway?"

"Of course," he replied haughtily, as if he were offended that she'd asked such a silly question.

She patted his leg and then turned her attention back to the trail in front of them, concentrating on maneuvering her horse through the rocky terrain. They had elected to take the flat route between the Exalted Plains and the Emprise du Lion up to the Imperial Highway. Varric and Bull were scouting ahead to find the last leg of a trail the Inquisition soldiers had sworn would get them to the Imperial Highway and then back to Skyhold in less than three days. Dorian continued to push warming magic into her back as they rode together in silence. After a few minutes, she heard a rider approaching, and then Varric appeared. "Trail is just ahead, Snowflake. Think you can ride hard for a while?"

Dorian's warmth had made her feel almost human again, and she nodded vigorously. "If it means getting back to Skyhold sooner, I can."

Dorian patted her back then withdrew his hand. "That's my girl."

She rounded the bend and saw the trail stretching out in front of them, wide and smooth. Once they reached Bull, the four of them set off, riding as hard as the horses would allow. They reached the highway and rode on, making camp later that evening and rising before dawn to continue down the road. Evana felt like she hadn't slept at all, but the promise of a warm bed in just another day and a half pushed her onward. They made it nearly to the Frostbacks by dusk that evening, and being so close, they pushed on until dark. When they finally made camp, Evana struggled to stay awake long enough to get the saddle off her horse. Bull finally took it from her and pushed her gently toward the bedroll Dorian had laid out for her.

"Go. We'll take care of all this."

"But the watch," she protested. "I didn't take one last night either. I want to pull my weight."

Bull laughed quietly. "Then, based on our weight ratios, you get the first fifteen minutes, and I'll take the next four hours. Besides, we've only got a few hours ride until we reach Skyhold. We'll sleep when we get back."

She relented, but only because she could barely keep her eyes open even while standing up. The next morning, she saw the weariness in her companions as they saddled the horses and prepared to ride, and the twinge of guilt pinched her hard. They were doing all this for her. Because they believed in her - believed she could make things better.

Creators, please let them be right.

They rode into Skyhold with quite a bit more fanfare than usual. Usually, she didn't arrive back until late in the evening after the torches had been lit. Now, though, everyone stopped to welcome and bow to her as she rode past the gates and toward the stables. She wished they wouldn't, but she held herself high anyway. They could not see her weak.

Once they reached the stables, Dorian immediately helped her off the horse, and Bull grabbed her bags while Varric headed toward the keep. Dorian tried to put an arm around her, but she held him off.

"No, I can't be seen needing assistance. It will only worry people. I'll take the back stairs through the basement to get to Solas."

Dorian muttered something about her being an "infuriatingly stubborn woman" as he walked ahead of her up the stairs. Once she passed through the kitchen, however, the other mage was waiting to assist her. And good thing, too - even with help, mounting the stairs to Josephine's office wiped her out. The ambassador wasn't in her office, so Dorian half dragged, half carried her to a chair by the fireplace.

"Just rest now," he ordered as he knelt beside her and pushed more blessed warmth into her body. "Varric will bring Solas to you."

Unable to keep her eyes open, she relaxed into the plush chair by the fire as the warmth radiated from Dorian's hand and Josie's hearty fire and leeched into her frozen limbs. The door opened a moment later, and Solas and Varric entered, speaking in low tones as they approached.

"Lethallan, tell me how you are feeling."

She pried her eyes open to see Solas kneeling beside her, a surprising flicker of concern in his expression. She struggled to sit up taller.

"Tired and cold. I can't seem to get warm since the temple."

Varric spoke up. "We ended up going into the temple in the oasis. She opened some stone boxes and pretty lights flew around the room for a moment before ... entering her, I guess?"

Solas arched an eyebrow. "Pretty lights?"

Varric shrugged. "I don't know what you'd call them. They were wispy and glowed. That's all I know."

"Likely some sort of imbuing magic," Dorian clarified. "I felt nothing malignant about it, however. It's a bit of a mystery why she's reacting so poorly."

Solas and Dorian began debating the finer points of magic theory, and though she tried to keep track of the conversation, she found her eyes drifting shut again. She vaguely registered another person entering the room in a rush, but it wasn't until she heard him speak that she knew Cullen had arrived. The anxiety in his voice made her want to get up and comfort him, but her body wouldn't obey any of her commands. She shivered violently and opened her eyes long enough to see Solas leaning over her again, his hands hovering just above her body. Her eyes searched for Cullen, and she found him pacing in front of the fire. He met her gaze, his face etched with worry bordering on panic.

"Her body is simply adjusting to her new resistance," Solas concluded. "She has apparently been imbued with additional resistance to cold magic, but it is currently causing her to feel the cold more acutely. It will pass, and more quickly with rest and relaxation."

"You're sure? How can you tell?"

Cullen's voice reflected his doubt, but Solas answered with patience. "I am familiar with her aura. It has changed - become stronger. It may be that this is a one-time adjustment or she may have to endure this with each new type of resistance she gains. It is difficult to predict such things without having been there to assess the temple and the type of magic imbuing the resistance. I have settled her magic as best I can, but right now, the best thing for her will be sleep and warmth."

Relieved, Evana opened her eyes and tried to sit up from where she slouched in the chair. Solas had told her what she needed to hear. She wasn't dying, so she didn't need special treatment.

"Ma serannas, lethallin. I will head to my quarters."

She barely got halfway out of the chair before Dorian, Cullen and Solas surrounded her. The others hesitated, but Cullen immediately took hold of her, pulling her from the chair and placing and protective arm around her waist once he'd steadied her.

"Really, I'm fine," she forced herself to say, even though his warm, solid presence comforted her in a way she couldn't define. "To avoid gossip, I should attempt to make it to my quarters alone."

Dorian waggled his fingers in front of her. "Ah, but I can provide the warmth. You're going to stand there and tell me you'll have enough focus and energy left after climbing that loooong flight of stairs to warm your own bed? I think not. Let the tongues wag. You need me."

Cullen loosened his hold enough that she could turn and face him. His eyes betrayed his concern, but he seemed much calmer after Solas' proclamation.

"Dorian is right. You need rest, and he can help you with that." He briefly squeezed her hip before dipping his head and lowering his voice to add, "I'll check on you later."

She gazed into the golden eyes she'd so missed and reluctantly assented to be escorted upstairs by Dorian. Cullen seemed just as reluctant to let her go, but finally, he handed her off to Dorian. Thankfully, only a couple of nobles who had taken to hanging around the great hall were there to see her enter the hall with Dorian's arm around her waist. Just as they were turning to head toward her quarters, Cassandra entered the great hall from the courtyard. She walked quickly down the hall to meet them. "Inquisitor! I heard you had returned. May I assist you?"

"Yes, thank you, Cassandra."

The two had her upstairs in no time. They found a full tub of water waiting for her, so Dorian heated the water as Cassandra helped her undress. She felt a little self conscious in front of Dorian, but the mage just laughed at her.

"Darling, I find you beautiful in the same way I find a sunset beautiful. You are aesthetically pleasing to me, but nothing more."

"That's... good to know, I suppose."

"Take it as a compliment, Your Worship. I don't give them often, but for you, I'll make an exception. Because you've rather grown on me these past few months."

She smiled at him. "That must be why you haven't ditched me for your own bath and a bottle of wine."

Dorian mocked offense, but then shrugged. "Believe you me, I'll get there soon enough. You'll be asleep in no time after your bath."

Indeed, she felt herself drifting to sleep several times before she finally finished cleaning herself entirely. Dorian warmed the water a few times to make sure she wasn't cold and then placed a warming spell in the air around her as she got out and toweled herself dry. He dried her hair while Cassandra pulled out a thick sleeping gown, quickly heated her bed and guided her underneath the blankets.

Evana looked at the mage from her pile of heated blankets. "Dorian, go. You're exhausted. Cassandra will stay here with me, won't you?"

"Of course, Your Worship."

Dorian looked at her through narrowed eyes, but finally shrugged, kissed her on the forehead and practically waltzed out of the room with an "As you wish!"

She laughed weakly at him and then turned to Cassandra, who was now standing a bit awkwardly beside her bed. Evana patted the side of the bed.

"Have a seat. I doubt this will take long. I'm having trouble keeping my eyes open already."

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, but then perched gingerly on the very edge of the bed. "I hope you are comfortable, Inquisitor."

"Yes, thank you. I'm warm for the moment at least." Evana paused, then decided now was as good a time as any. "Cassandra?"

"Yes?"

"Would you call me Evana? Not all the time, of course, but when we're among friends?"

Cassandra seemed a little surprised but answered almost immediately. "I would be happy to... Evana."

"And you don't mind if I call you Cass, do you? If you do, I'll stop right now - I promise."

"I have always tried to avoid the nickname in public, but - as with you - if we only use the name in private, I do not mind."

Evana smiled, but then her face quickly grew serious again. "Oh, I forgot! Could you get the papers from my bag and give them to Cullen? He's waiting for them. I didn't want to risk sending them by crow."

Cassandra smiled and stood from the bed. "I am happy to."

She watched the Seeker pick up a bag to retrieve the letters, but her eyelids were too heavy to watch the progress any more than that. She drifted off to the quiet sound of shuffling papers.

 **

 Evana slept like the dead for hours. She woke once toward evening to relieve herself and eat some broth and bread brought up by Cassandra. After shivering herself warm enough to fall asleep again, she woke a second time in the darkness. She had no idea of the time, but the coldness of the room as well as her full bladder told her it was probably two or three in the morning. She threw the covers back and sucked in a breath as the cold hit her. In the dim light of the dying fire, she barely saw the dark form at the side of her bed before she tripped over it.

"Fenedhis! What-?" "Oooff!!"

After several seconds of flailing limbs, she found herself sitting on the floor, or rather on the lap of someone sitting on the floor. Too weak to summon any magic, she tried to push away but found herself encircled by rather familiar pair of arms.

"Cullen?" "Yes. I'm here." "Wha- what are you doing on the floor, vhenan?"

His pause let her know he was somewhat embarrassed at being caught. "I- I came to check on you, but you were asleep. I thought I'd wait for a while to see if you woke up, and then... I fell asleep."

Her muddled brain still couldn't comprehend his words. "On the floor?"

"Yes? Where else would I..."

"On the couch perhaps, or better yet, in the bed with me, keeping me warm. I'm so c-cold."

As if on cue, her body convulsed with the cold and his warm arms circled around her more tightly. She hummed in appreciation. Unfortunately, it also reminded her why she'd woken in the first place.

"I have to... uh... take care of something. I'll be back."

She returned from her private room to find Cullen, sans armor, sitting on the edge of her bed and looking at her rather shyly in the light of the fire he'd built up in her absence. Even with the extra heat, her body shook with the cold. She ran past him and snuggled down into the blankets, but it was too late. The bed had gone cold. She reached up and tugged at his arm gently.

"P-please, will you stay awhile? I'm so c-cold. At least until I g-get warm? Then you can go... if you w-want."

Cullen didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled off his boots and slid under the blankets next to her. She scooted toward him, and he reached out to pull her back against him, wrapping around her small body in a cocoon of delicious warmth. She let out a loud gush of air as her back met with his solid chest.

"Creators... h-how are you s-so warm?"

He chuckled softly in her ear as his warm breath fanned her neck. "I don't know, but I'm glad I can be of use."

She reached back and pulled his arm around her under the covers. "I m-missed y-you. And n-not just because you're w-warm."

He laughed outright. "I'm glad of that." She felt his lips brush her ear and then her neck, and a different kind of shiver spread through her body. His voice was hesitant as he continued. "But mostly, I- I'm simply glad you have returned and that you... Solas says you will be well soon." He paused and took a deep breath before whispering, "I... I missed you so much."

She couldn't respond. Her heart was too full. She let the silence lay over them like a comfortable blanket as his warmth radiated through her. The shivers diminished to the occasional shudder. Each time a shudder ran through her, she would feel an almost imperceptible tightening of Cullen's arm around her, as if he were trying to pull her even closer. She felt herself beginning to drift again, but part of her wanted to stay awake - to savor the feel of him so close to her. It couldn't last, though. She was far too tired to keep sleep at bay.

She woke again mid morning, and she was alone. Someone had left a tray of porridge and some fruit on her bedside table, and they must have built up the fire again, too. She assumed Cullen had left as soon as she'd fallen asleep, but she couldn't be sure.

She smiled to herself as she recalled the feeling of his body next to hers. Her craving for his touch still surprised her. Even something as simple as a brush of the back of his hand was enough to fluster her completely. To feel him next to her, the length of his body curling around her - it was almost too much.

And yet not enough.

She threw back the covers and realized that, for the first time in days, she didn't feel like she might freeze to death. The occasional chill ran through her, but she didn't want to stay in bed any longer. Opening the curtains wide, she let the sunlight filter into the room and then sat down in the expanse of sun cutting across the carpeted floor. She heated the stone cold porridge and began sifting through four weeks of reports. The mountainous pile was daunting, but she soon realized a majority were simply reports from her advisors to keep her informed about matters they'd dealt with in her absence. She dug in and started reading.

A couple of hours later, the sun had shifted angles, so she grabbed a blanket and transferred her work to the couch. Slightly after the noon hour, she heard a faint click of her lock and rattle at the door. Solas appeared at the top of the stairs with a tray in hand.

"Good morning... or should I say afternoon?" she called to him.

Solas turned in the direction of her voice and nodded to her. "I have brought you some broth and bread for lunch... unless you feel well enough to come downstairs?"

Evana didn't want to stay in bed, but she also had no desire to show herself to anyone either. "I think I'd like to stay bundled up here next to the fire, if that's alright with my friends and advisors."

Solas gave her a soft smile as he approached with the tray. "Ma nuvenin, lethallan. I also came up to examine you briefly. May I? I would like to confirm that the adjustment of your body to the new resistance is progressing as I thought it might."

"Of course."

Solas set the tray on the table and crouched in front of her. He raised his hands to hover close to her as she sat. His magic flowed over her, and she briefly closed her eyes, feeling herself pulled toward him. Confused, she flushed slightly and glanced at Solas. Thankfully, he was not looking at her face. She swallowed hard and tried to focus on something - anything - else. After a few moments, he nodded and stood.

"It is as I thought. I have further settled your magic, but keep yourself warm and continue to rest today. You should be back to normal by tomorrow."

He then bowed and turned away, as if he were going to leave. The words left her mouth before she could think better of them.

"Will you not keep me company for a while, Solas?"

He looked back at her and a shadow passed across his face. The next moment, the shadow disappeared as if it had never been, and he turned back to sit in the space she cleared for him on the couch.

"I am glad that you are feeling better," he began quietly. "Dorian and I have discussed the various possibilities and have yet to come up with a viable explanation to the severity of your reaction. However, I do not believe you were in any real danger, despite appearances."

"Ma serannas. I have to admit - I was relieved by your assurances yesterday. I thought perhaps... perhaps I might have been foolish to just accept the magic instead of be wary of it."

"You were worried you had poisoned yourself with magic?"

"It is possible."

Solas considered. "Yes, I suppose it is for lesser people. But you are not one of those lesser people. You are strong and wise and willful. I have great respect for you, lethallan."

Her mouth gaped open, but she quickly shut it and smiled warmly at him. "Ma serannas. I feel the same about you, lethallin. I respect you and your talents greatly."

A sad smile passed over his face, but it quickly faded to serenity. "The peace talks at Halamshiral are approaching quickly. Have you thought of who you will take with you?"

"There are so many reasons I might take each of you. I think I've settled on Cassandra for sure. She'll hate it all, but her connection to nobility lends credence to our position in the Game."

Solas nodded thoughtfully. "Have you considered Cole? He might help you sort through all the intrigue."

"I thought of that, but I'm worried so many people would be distracting for him. I'll certainly consider it. I'd rather let Varric rest before the assault on Adamant. And Sera..."

"Would not do well in a ballroom full of nobles."

Evana sighed and shot Solas a wry grin. "Precisely. This is another moment when I feel I did our cause an injustice by ignoring Madame de Fer's invitation up to now. She would be an asset in this situation. I guess I'll see when I meet with her in Halamshiral."

"I understand your point, but I feel I must caution you. She is misguided about mages and believes that Circles are a good thing. She is willfully stubborn. Nothing you say will ever change that - which means instead of a help during this time, she would be constantly questioning your decisions. We do not need her. She needs us. Do not forget that."

Evana tried to hide her grin but finally gave up. "We are of one mind on that, at least."

"I have found us to be of one mind on a great many things. Those few things on which we do not see eye to eye should not define our relationship, do you not agree?"

She tried not to react to Solas' word choice but answered carefully nonetheless. "I do agree. I value your friendship and council. I hope we can always be as open and honest with each other as we are now."

Solas said nothing but turned his eyes away from her. They sat for a few moments in silence. Then he shook his head.

"I should go."

"Oh... alright." He stood and walked to the door, but she stopped him with her words. "Whatever it is, Solas - whatever makes you sad - I'm sorry for it."

His back was still to her, straight and tense. After a moment, he turned his head slightly toward her and spoke.

"I know, lethallan."

He quickly disappeared down the stairs, and she was left alone with her reports once more. Despite her time with Solas practicing her focus, learning new spells and reviewing healing spells, he was still a mystery to her - impenetrable and a little bit frightening - but he'd always been kind.

Kind but distant and uncommunicative... just like Hanir.

And suddenly, her initial wariness of him made a lot more sense. She knew logically that they weren't the same person, of course, but the similarities had been enough for her to keep her distance - that and her distinct feeling that he was hiding something. The feeling had only grown since she'd known him, and unlike Varric, she knew she hadn't uncovered the source of her gut feeling.

Solas' secrets were not her concern, however. Or, at least she hoped they weren't. It seemed secrets in the inner circle always ended up being connected to the Inquisition in one way or another.

Her eyes wandered to the reports sitting in her lap, but she pushed them aside to eat. Bull had harped at her constantly about her eating - or lack thereof - so she'd taken to eating whatever they put in front of her whether hungry or not. Although she hadn't gained any weight with the travel rations, she hadn't lost anything in the last couple of weeks either. She wasn't about to give Bull another reason to be mother hen. Besides, she still had a few more hours of reading reports to get through the stack on her desk. Then maybe she'd take a nap.

Yes, an afternoon nap sounded like just the thing.

[gaygobbledygook]

Love Gestures | (Tweek x Craig)

genre: Fluff

summary: Craig flips off Tweek, but adds a little bit of a twist

Word count: 437

I was walking around the hallways, nothing really interesting happening. I glanced to my write and saw Tweek walking and talking with Clyde, and suddenly I got an idea.

Was it stupid? Yeah.

Was it gonna embarrass the hell out of Tweek? F*ck yeah.

“HEY TWEEK!” I yelled from across the hallway, causing the blonde to nearly jump out of his skin and whip around to face me.

“W-WHAT?”  He let out a high pitched shriek.

I looked him dead in the eye, and flipped him off with both hands. He just rolled his eyes and scoffed, until he looked back to see that I had used my thumbs and middle fingers to make a heart in his direction. The flustered expression on his face was adorable, and made the screeching of nearby fangirls all worth it.

I smirked at him and spun around, heading to my next class.

After school, I started walking home. That was until a pair of arms flung around my neck from behind, surprising me.

“W-wha-”

“Y-your a dick, you know that?”

A small sensation of relief filled me as I discovered it was Tweek who had made the gesture and not a mugger or something.

“Yeah,” I agreed, turning around in his hold, so I could wrap my arms around his torso.

“But you're dating this dick.”

Tweek scowled, but the blush on his cheeks and the smile he was trying (emphasis on try) to hide, ruined the annoyed look he was going for.

I placed my hand on his cheek, and placed a peck on his lips. I could feel him kiss back for half a second before shoving my face away.

“C-Craig, Stop! I’m mad at you!”

“No your not.”

“Yes I am!”

“Then why are you blushing?”

He had no answer, so he just stood there, glaring while his face was red.

“OH MA GOD! GET A ROOM YOU TWO!” Cartman yelled at us, making Kyle punch him as he say something I couldn’t quite hear because of the distance. Cartman retorted something I also couldn’t hear, but knowing those two, I’d say it was along the lines of,

Shut up, fatass

Don’t call me fat, you fuckin jew

I glanced over at Tweek, who was looking down to hide his tomato face. I held my hand out to him, causing him to glance up slightly.

“Come on, let’s go.”

He let out a soft grunt before grabbing my hand and walking along side me back to my house.

“I hate you….”

I smirked back at him, kissing his on the cheek.

“I love you, too, Tweekers.”

This was based on an imagine your OTP. i read it and I immediately thought of this ship. 

Sorry for the mini hiatus, I was having a bit of writers block. but that’s all over now so except fics soon: to a Tumblr near you! This probably isn’t gonna get many notes, because Creek fics aren't that popular on Tumblr, but: hey. There is a severe lack of Creek fics on the internet (coughcoughTumblr), so I figure i’d add to it. All righty, thanks for reading, and have a lovely day dear readers!