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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

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you’re someone i just want around: III

“You can have me tonight or never

I thought you understood

Baby, some people are meant to be loved and others just naked

So take what I’m willing to give, love it or hate it.”

—Wrong, Zayn and Kehlani

A/N: alright SO!!!! the original part 3 ended up being at the cusp of 50k words (because i have no self control) and that is a LOT to read in one go so it’s getting split into parts 3 and 4! which means!! double update laidese and germs!!!! part 4 will be posted this SUNDAY, AUGUST 16th at 5PM PST/8PM EST :D we hope you enjoy this chapter, feedback is greatly appreciated, and please please PLEASE!!! if you like it, reblog it!!! and if you want, go nuts in the tags!! every single one is read!!! it keeps content creators motivated 💌leyla @sunflowervolvimp3 took the liberty of making an incredible playlist to go along with our story, so feel free to check it out and see if you can find any clues as to what’s in store for the characters 👀without further delay, here she is...buckle up 👁👁this is gonna be quite the ride

ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : ysijwa playlist

word count: 24.2k

content/warnings: cheeky banter over texts, The Crew dragging Niall to shit, more banter over a glass of cheap wine, vampire!harry showing up to “interior design” sessions looking like a runway model, some fwb smut, degradation kink, very mild mentions of blood, and some ugly tapestries that somehow lead to sexting

///

Y/N definitely puts Harry’s number to good use. Very good use.

In fact, during the span of the next month or so, Harry reckons that she pulls up his contact on her phone so often that she probably has him listed on speed dial. The assumption is dramatic and probably incorrect, on behalf of his arrogance, but with how much time they start spending together, it’s hardly a stretch.

It all begins exactly a week after their first time meeting.

Harry still hates clubs.

He hates them more than he did last week. He hates them more than he did yesterday, more than he did this morning, and even more than he did a minute ago. He fucking despises them.

And yet, as Harry stands here before the mirror in his enormous double-sink bathroom, fiddling with his damp hair as his flouncy dress shirt hangs unbuttoned from his broad shoulders, he’s absolutely positive he has never hated clubs more than right now.

Niall got to pick the venue this time. He’d texted his choice in the groupchat (which is respectfully named Dinner Plans) about four hours ago, making sure to get the word out decently early so that everyone could start making their preparations, all in order for the crew to be on the move by nine P.M.

It’s now nine thirty-seven, and everyone is fully set to leave at the agreed upon hour. Everyone except Harry.

This, however, is not uncommon. He’s always the one that takes the longest to get ready, no matter how soon he starts. No one can remember an instance where Harry has ever been ready on time— which says a lot, considering most of the gang has years of memories from which they can pull. Mitch especially. With almost a century of friendship behind them, not once has the older vampire ever seen Harry stick to a deadline. His flare for being fashionably late is less a flare, and moreso an irritating burn. It always throws off their game a bit, but at this point, everyone has gotten used to the seemingly young vampire’s theatrics.

So on this Friday night, there isn’t much more to do other than mold to his habits; Harry answers to no one except himself and it’s been that way for decades now, for a reason he’d rather not reminisce. He doesn’t owe anything to anyone, especially since he’s the one that always takes charge of getting them where they need to go, as well as getting them inside said destination. Complaining about their leader wouldn’t do the gang any good for a number of reasons, especially because Harry rarely ever listens. It is what it is— he’s just the way he is, and they’ve all learned to live with and respect that.

The funny thing? Harry does it on purpose, though his friends aren’t aware of it. He drags out the process of getting prepared simply so he can put off having to step inside one of those circus acts people refer to as clubs. He goes as slow as possible and does as much as possible, spreading seconds into minutes, and maybe— if he’s insistent enough and feeling particularly pesky— an hour. His record is an hour and twenty-eight minutes, which he wears with pride, much to his group’s unamusement.

Harry knows no one will ever say anything about his annoying tendencies, unless they’re willing to volunteer themselves to take the reins for the night. Vampires are alert and productive, but only when they want to be— which is usually only when it benefits them— and only if they can muster up the patience for it. And frankly, none of the creatures he associates with have the patience required to deal with security, driving, and other obstacles the way Harry does. He’s indispensable, and therefore, everyone puts up with his shit. Quid pro quo has never been more effective.

So here Harry stands, now thirty-eight minutes past the original time sorted for departure, carefully combing volumizing mousse into his slightly wet curls and spinning each ringlet around his index finger to give them the definition and bounce he’s so well-known for. Here he is, finishing up his post-shower routine as all of his friends mill around downstairs in his living room, waiting for him to come down so they can pack into his car and head out for the weekly hunt at whatever establishment has been deemed fit for the night. And here he is, taking his sweet time so he can be the signature pain in the ass that everyone hates to love.

Once Harry has thoroughly coated all of his hair with the fluffy white cream, he pulls out his hair-dryer from the cabinet below his sink, snapping its accompanying diffuser into place and flipping his head upside down. He carefully scrunches his curls to his roots with the attachment, moving in thoughtful circles as he hums to the rhythm of a song he can’t be bothered to remember the name of. Staring down at his polished jet black heeled boots, he absentmindedly taps against the porcelain ground to the beat of the music, sighing wistfully as warm air circulates its way across his scalp.

Harry turns his shoes to the side, admiring the detailing along the back of the heel. Across the curved surface is the word SUCKER, bedazzled onto the article with multicolored jewels, glitzing beautifully under the fluorescent lighting of his bathroom. The shoes had been a gift from a friend with connections in high places; more specifically, connections to the man who sits on the throne of the Gucci brand. Harry hadn’t questioned the present when he’d received it— only an idiot would bat a cautious eye at such a luxury. He’d fallen in love with them the second they landed in his palms, decked out in a gorgeous satin box and wrapped with sparkly black tissue paper. The only words that had dared leave his lips were, “Fuck, I think I just got hard.”

The shoes had fit like a charm, and he had wanted to save them for a special occasion. But given that he has hundreds of years worth of special occasions lined up for his future, he’d shrugged off his pickiness and yanked them out the back of his closet for tonight. What better way to show them off than at an overhyped disco hall?

Harry flips his head right-side up once again, ruffling his fingers through his soft, shiny curls to check for any wet patches or stringiness. He rolls up the wire to his styling tool and puts it back in its designated spot, grabbing his favorite paddle brush and attentively filtering it through his hair until he gets the tousled waves that he’s grown so fond of sporting. He musses them until he’s satisfied with his appearance, nodding at himself casually in the mirror as he proceeds to wrap up the last few necessities he has left.

Harry buttons his blouse, admiring it in the fogged mirror. It’s a flowy sheer black piece with holographic threads sewn through its expanse, the fabric continuously shimmering with every shift of his muscles from underneath. He leaves the last three holes empty to better show off the dark butterfly inking on his lean chest and the swallows suspended in flight along his collarbones. He doesn’t really have to leave the shirt open, given that the material is see-through to the point where it leaves very little to the imagination, obvious in how all the tattoos along his arms are clearly visible. But he does it either way— he likes it when people stare. He’s got the assets, he might as well flaunt them.

Harry loosely tucks the hem of the shirt along the brim of his high-waisted beige slacks, which he’d ironed with precision to an ideal fold. He opts out of a belt tonight, wanting to display the array of elegant buttons that line the front of his pleated trousers. The pants hang slightly flared around his ankles, and if someone’s interests were intent enough, they might catch a glimpse of his favorite socks underneath the cusps, the words FUCK IT printed across the dark cotton fabric. He always makes sure to have an aspect in his outfit that could make for neat conversation.

The vampire pulls out one of his drawers, ghosting his fingers over his collection of jewelry before picking out a pearl necklace and his father’s gold-plated cross necklace, as well as a colorful array of rings. He makes sure to retrieve the most significant two, as always— his lionhead amethyst daylight ring and his mother’s opal. He never goes anywhere without them.

After he’s slipped on those accessories, bending and stretching his fingers for good measure and feeling everything settle into place, he picks out the gold cross earring that matches his necklace. It used to be part of a pair that belonged to his sister. As he watches the gold twinkle in the artificial light, he briefly wonders what happened to its twin, but pushes the thought away before it leads him down a path of pessimistic speculations.

Harry loops the dangly piece through his earlobe, sighing through his nose as his gaze jets around his entire look, searching for any possible faults he could tend to that would prolong the inevitable— another night of drunken morons and thick synthetic smoke.

Harry decides to fold the cuffs of his shirt up to his elbows, knowing that it makes his veiny forearms look appealing. He rummages through his selection of colognes before deciding to go with his trusty Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, spritzing a bit along specific pressure points on his neck where a pulse would otherwise be present, following along with the insides of his wrists. The scent of cloves, sugar-frosted vanilla, and cedar wood envelope him in a warm ambiance. After that task is complete, he fusses with his necklaces for a minute or so, settling the cross between his pectorals and resting the rosey pearls across his clavicle, fingering at their smooth surface in thought. Much to his defeat, everything seems to be in order, down to his freshly lacquered black nails. It’s not his fault he’s nearly flawless. His long— and unfortunate— extension on life had given him a plethora of years to work himself into a state of physical perfection. There’s only so much one can do to their appearance before it becomes superiorly stagnant.

Harry tunes his heightened hearing for a second, listening in to the conversation his friends are entertaining on the first level of his condo. Niall’s voice is the first one that comes through, unsurprisingly. He’s always the loudest and has zero filter, present in how he’s freely ranting about Harry’s exaggerated mannerisms as he paces back and forth across the floor, footsteps heavy. No one seems to be paying him any mind— As usual, Harry thinks to himself, snorting softly— because everyone appears to be caught up in their own personal lives, too lost in gossip and exchanging opinions to give the Irish vampire any thought.

None of his gang seem bothered by his lack of rush, but Harry knows he can’t keep them waiting forever. Fridays are the day they’d all collectively agreed to hunt together and it had been as so for almost twenty years. Being the leader, Harry can’t let his childish distaste for nightlife get in the way of what’s best for the group. He needs to hunker down on his selfish inclinations and be a responsible friend, or else a human might not be the only person Niall sinks his fangs into tonight.

With one final lingering stare at his reflection, Harry goes to retrieve his phone from its face-down position on the dark marble counter, simultaneously reaching for the light switch to begin powering down his apartment for the next couple of hours until he returns. Hopefully with a pretty girl hanging off his arm and less of a burn in the back of his throat. Although Harry may be cynical, he’s also practical; if he’s going to have to spend eternity on this planet, he may as well try to conserve enough energy to make it bearable. After decades of adjusting to electricity, the last thing Harry wants is to return to candlelit rooms and going to bed in time with the sun.

The sudden chime that shrieks from his device causes him to jump a tad, brows furrowing in mild confusion for a few reasons. First, because it’s such an odd coincidence that right as he went to grasp it, his smartphone had gone off; it’s almost spooky. Second, because anyone who would normally dare message him at this hour is currently sequestered downstairs on the cushions of his sectional sofa, waiting for him to emerge from his room. Who else could possibly need to contact him this late, especially at the beginning of the weekend?

Harry flips his red iPhone curiously (yes, he’d bought it in red for the purpose of irony), peering down at the unknown number shining back up at him from the screen.

The text is simple enough: Hey, accompanied by three disco ball emojis.

After a few seconds of blank blinking and adamantly searching through his mind for a clue as to who this could be, the answer smacks him square between the eyes. The memories come to him in quick flashes.

A bald bouncer with a stupid name. A two-story room with seven foot tall speakers and a bar nuzzled in the corner. A group of loud, tipsy girls in stilettos and glittery dresses. One girl, sitting amidst the ruckus looking alone and indifferent while everyone around her gave into inebriated chaos. Mitch urging him to go talk to her. The overwhelming smell of honey and lavender. Gentle caresses placed across the tattoos painting his arms. Pretty lips the color of fresh blood, drained glasses of liquor, and witty banter exchanged between suggestive glances and cheeky grins. Shouldering through a crowded dance floor with the young woman in tow. Settling her into the passenger’s seat of his Cadillac and feeling heat explode across his cold cheeks when she’d yanked him down by his collar, kissing him like his lips were her only source of air.

A quaint apartment complex, flickering lights in a corridor, and a worn couch. A warm mouth, smudged lipstick, teary eyes, and the gentle, shaky echo of, “I want to make you feel good.” High-waisted silk pants discarded on the floor, a cream lace blouse, and pastel pink lingerie. Thighs squeezing his head as her sweet taste spilled across his tongue. The mortal’s bare back pressed to his chest as he worked his hips roughly into her, mumbling dirty promises against her ear. Sugary whimpers and needy pleads. The warm, tangy flavor of her blood filling his mouth and sedating the burning in his throat. Childish giggles shared in a tiny flat, her warm fingers sewing between his icy own and tugging him into her room. A sleepless night full of steady breaths and only one heartbeat. A stupid tapestry and an ugly popcorn ceiling. A late morning strewn with sarcastic jokes mumbled over the rim of a coffee mug. Pulling his favorite t-shirt over his head and inhaling the sweet smell that had been glued to every thread.

Making a drastic decision and typing his information into her phone.

Harry doesn’t mean to speak aloud, but the name slips down his tongue as easily as he’d drawn moans from hers. “Y/N.”

It’s not like he didn’t remember her, because he did. And it’s not like he hadn’t thought of her since, because he had. But it’d been in passing and barely relevant— faint recollections in the form of fleeting seconds.

He’d thought of her a couple days ago, when he’d been wandering around the mall with his friends. They’d passed by a candle shop where, among all the mixed scents, there had been the unmistakable aroma of lavender and honey somewhere inside, smelling vaguely like her. She’d unwillingly made her way to the forefront of his mind when he’d gone to do laundry, picking out his baby blue Marc Jacobs t-shirt from his hamper and feeling his eyes dilate and fangs protrude— a result of animalistic instinct. As it turns out, she had left a bloodstain along the inside of the yellow collar of his tee. It was dried and crusted over by the time he found it, but the effect it had on him remained the same as the night he’d drawn it fresh from one of her arteries. He’d chucked the garment into the wash carelessly with hardly any hesitation.

The girl had even elbowed into his brain during an important self-care session. He’d been sitting in his glorified bathtub— which, in shallow honesty, is just a jacuzzi— with his cock twitching in his palm while his head hung over the edge, an orgasm teetering along the trench of his stomach as he’d repeatedly thumbed over his tip. When he’d finally coaxed himself into a climax, moans running freely across the empty halls of his home, the image he saw in those short moments of pure bliss was of her. It was Y/N, sitting in front of him with her hands clasped between her bare thighs obediently, his prick running along the length of her warm tongue as her eyes pleaded for him to cum.

But, as he’d stated before, the picture had only lasted a handful of seconds. As soon as his high had died down, it had disintegrated to ash, and he’d been left with a slightly startled mental imprint in its wake, which had faded away within minutes. He hadn’t thought of her since.

That is, until now. Until the surface of his jade eyes are reflecting the message his phone had just received at nearly ten P.M., her identity obvious in her choice of emojis.

A disco ball. The exact same character he’d assigned himself beside his name in her contact list. It was an inside joke; a result of the hatred they both shared for clubs, juxtaposed by the fact that they had met in one. It was a cute determining factor in their minimal acquaintanceship, and he’s always a sucker for a good paradox.

Harry continues to stare down at the text message, trying to conjure up some type of answer. She couldn’t have caught him at a better time, quite literally. She could be his saving grace tonight, if he plays his cards right. Maybe if he swoons her enough, she’ll invite him over again, and he can avoid another night full of shit-faced idiots and blinding strobe lights.

After careful consideration, he swipes open into their new text conversation and taps back a reply he deems appropriate, satisfied with how it shows his personality— the same one the mortal girl had been so taken with upon their first encounter.

Well, this is awkward. I don’t remember giving my number to a disco ball.

The vampire waits idly for a response, watching as the message delivers and is immediately marked by a read receipt. He doesn’t know why, but he likes that she has them on.

A swift pause follows— in which he has no doubt she’s probably attempting to come up with some type of witty remark to his— and then the three grey bouncing bubbles pop up, signifying that she’s typing back. His device bloops with her response, vibrating in his large palms.

Funny as ever, I see. It’s Y/N, from the club last Friday.

Harry’s slightly disappointed by her humor-lacking answer, but he’ll keep the interaction going for curiosity’s sake. Some people are fun in person and just not that bright virtually. Can’t always have it all.

Oh, hey, Y/N! So are you translating on behalf of the disco ball that wanted to talk to me or…?

He can practically see her eye rolling up at the grungy ceiling of her room and that notion makes his lips twitch.

Ha. Ha. Hilarious! But no, I’M the one who wants to talk to you, actually.

Harry can feel her sarcastic tone through this specific message and that gives him hope. Maybe she does have social networking skills.

Oh. Well, give the disco ball my best regards then, will you? Don’t want it to think I’m being rude and casting it aside.

The creature can’t see it, but now Y/N’s lips are the ones jolting as she sits on her bed in nothing but a towel, damp hair beading water down her naked shoulders and back.

How caring of you! I’ll pass on the message.

A full grin begins to edge across Harry’s cheeks as she returns his banter just as easily as she would face to face, dimples threatening to indent into place. That’s more like it.

His fingers poise over the keyboard, mind flicking through the different scenarios he could steer this conversation towards. He has to be perceptive and respectful, but also keep her entertained. He figures asking about her intentions is the best route to take, but he’ll do it subtly. Being too direct could come off pushy.

So...what gives me the honor of basking in your presence tonight, hm?

He adds a thinking face emoji to the end of the text as an afterthought. He rarely uses emoticons, but now is as good a time as any to start, especially because he has to seem like someone who belongs to her generation, rather than a Victorian era immortal.

Well, you said if I wanted more interior design advice to shoot you a text so...here I am, seeking your expertise.

Harry allows himself to break into a wide simper at the shrouded compliment. It goes right to his ego, just as he likes it. She’s smart.

My expertise, huh? I take it that my taste in wallpaper left you pretty satisfied last time, then?

A similar grin buckles Y/N’s face at his playful smugness and she bites into the side of her index finger to try and suppress it. After a moment of thought, she releases her digit from between her teeth and taps back.

Very satisfied, yeah. Your help was greatly appreciated.

Harry scoffs coyly, leaning his shoulder against the lightly fogged black marble wall of his bathroom, his friends and plans for the night all but forgotten. He’s having too much fun flirting to pay anything else much mind.

My pleasure, love. I’d be more than happy to give it again, anytime you need it. Just make sure to fill out the customer service survey my boss emailed you. I’m shooting for a raise and could really use the brownie points.

“Cute.” Y/N murmurs to herself in amusement, her chest fluttering as a result of the pet name, alongside how well they’re getting on. It’s almost like no time has passed at all. Almost as if they’re friends.

She’d been nervous to reach out, fearing that he’d see it and ignore her— or worse, leave her on read. Needless to say, this is going way better than she could’ve hoped

Already filled that out. Gave you five stars and everything. Would’ve given you six if it was allowed.

Harry shifts his weight against the surface he’s using for support, chuckling softly as he gnaws along the inside of his cheek. He feels like a teenager with all of this borderline childish back-and-forth. He’s not mad about it, though. It’s pretty enjoyable.

Thank you so much for your input! It’s taken into deep consideration. VERY deep consideration, if I recall correctly.

Warmth pours into Y/N’s cheeks at his innuendo, and she somewhat hates that he can get her all flustered without actually being present. He’s really good at this. A true lucky strike, to put it in his own words.

I’m glad my standards are held so highly, especially since I’m trying to book another advising appointment with you.

Is that so?

Very much so. How about tonight, if you’re free? I’ve got a dire situation with some wood paneling that I just can’t handle alone.

The vampire’s irises flare crimson red in triumph. It looks like he won't have to put himself through another mortifying ordeal tonight, after all.

I’m on a tight schedule, Y/N. These expertise are highly sought after, yanno?

Y/N snorts at his pompous joke. “Moron.”

Another text comes in from Harry before she can even think of a response.

However, I think I might be able to squeeze you in for a help session today. Say in about 10 to 15 minutes?

With newly brightened eyes, Y/N gives the message five repasses to make sure she’d interpreted it correctly. She can’t believe he’d agreed, especially at an hour when most people already have weekend plans cemented for the night. And by the length of time he’d given her to prepare, she’s extremely thankful she’d decided to shower prior to attempting a booty-call.

Sounds perfect. Do you need me to send you my address or do you remember, by some miracle?

Don’t worry about it, pet. I have a pretty good memory of that night. You made it hard to forget.

Another layer of heat crawls up her neck and into her ears. She knows this is a casual thing, at best, but for some reason, the idea that he had deemed her unforgettable makes her entire body feel like it’s glowing. She tries to brush it off, chalking up his compliment to how they’d seen each other barely a week ago so of course he remembered. It was fairly fresh in both their minds.

But Y/N is from an area where she was just another face in the crowd— another timid girl in an ocean of a hundred small-town carbon copies— and she’d certainly never referred to herself as anything particularly special. To have Harry, who is such a refined and attractive person, who most likely has dozens of hook-ups under his belt, call her that? Of all people? It just hits differently.

She shakes herself out of her head, remembering that a very interesting boy is waiting for a response on the other end of her phone.

Alright, then. See you in 10 to 15 minutes, Mr…?

Y/N comes to the realization that she doesn’t even know his last name. She doesn’t know the last name of the guy she’d let into her house and between her legs. God, if her parents could see her now...They’d blow California into a crater.

The name’s Styles. Harry Styles.

She immediately recognizes the reference, chewing at her bottom lip to keep a tab on a girly giggle. It’s probably not healthy how easily he reduces her into such a dopey puddle.

Alright, then, Mr. Harry Styles. See you soon?

Very soon. Can’t wait to show you the wood samples I just found.

With a sly smirk dimpling his cheeks, Harry pushes off the elegant stone wall of his luxury bathroom, locking his device and absentmindedly tapping it along his palm as he does a quick mind-sweep of the interaction he’d just had. He’s going to get his needs taken care of—both intimate and carnal— by a girl with whom he meshes with so well, no less. This night has taken an unexpected turn for the better, and he’s never been more thankful for making such a rash decision the morning after a one night stand.

The shrill boom of an Irish accent breaks Harry out of his flirty stupor, the sound bounding up the stairs of his flat and echoing off the tiles in his bathroom. “Harry, did you fucking desicate up there, you prick?!”

The vampire’s head snaps to the side towards where the sudden intrusion is originating, clearing his throat softly before answering, mostly to anchor himself back into the present. He’d been too busy floating in a daydream bubble to give his friends any proper attention. “I’m on my way down!”

Harry flicks off the light switch to his master bathroom, heading into his dimly lit bedroom and scooping up his wallet from its usual spot on top of the dresser. He tucks it into the wide front pocket of his slacks along with his cell phone, rounding the king-sized mattress at the center of his space, footsteps muffled by the thick maroon carpeting across the ground. He stops under the doorframe, giving his room one last calculating glance to make sure he isn’t leaving anything important behind. Once the creature is sure he’s set, he reaches over and slides the switch meter all the way down until the hanging lamps on the ceiling fade to black.

Harry clambers down the glass and metal staircase, passing the collection of original paintings organized across the expanse of the largest wall in his home. His friends spot him from the huge couch once he’s halfway down the steps, and of course Niall is the first to make his presence audible.

“Fucking finally.” The blue-eyed vampire groans in exasperation, shooting up from his seat beside Xander, arms falling across his lean chest. “I thought you’d died. Really died.”

Harry dismounts the last stair carefully, heeled boots making a soft clicking sound against the polished light-wash wood of his floorboards. He pushes a few rogue curls out of his eyes, the corners of his mouth jilting upwards teasingly as he regards the fellow immortal. “If I have to keep staring at that shitty paisley button-up you’re wearing, I just might.”

Niall’s irritated expression shatters into one of sheer hurt, hands fumbling with the silk fabric of his shirt, lips melting into a pained pout as he contemplates it sadly. His tone comes out whiney and defensive. “Hey! I really like this one!”

Harry side-steps the boy, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Your fashion sense makes me question my friendship with you.”

Niall’s face pinches with anger, thick brows furrowing as he roughly swats the brunette’s wrist away. “And your dickhead attitude makes me question mine.”

Harry’s jade eyes dance with evil glee as he returns his palm to where it had been resting before to give a curt squeeze, his rings playfully digging into the muscle beneath Niall’s top. “And yet here you are, sitting on my couch, waiting to get into my car. Funny how that works, innit? We benefit from one another. Mutualism at its finest.”

The Irish man shrugs himself free of his friend’s hold once again, glaring at him with darkening eyes, but there’s no true malice behind it. “More like parasitism.”

“So are you two gonna kiss now or what?” Mitch’s soft, mocking voice butts in as he drifts up beside Niall, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark denim straight jeans and his long hair tied back into a low ponytail. He’s wearing a light-wash Rolling Stones t-shirt he’d gotten at a concert he and Harry had attended back in the eighties, along with a pair of scuffed up sneakers. Pretty casual for a club— too casual, in Harry’s opinion. “The sexual tension is killing the audience.”

The green-eyed boy cranes his sight back onto Niall, raising his eyebrows in question and puckering his lips. “What d’you say, Ni? Wanna kiss this little disagreement better? I’m down.”

The pale young man makes a gagging noise, stepping away. “Don’t know where your mouth’s been. But if your bed fellows have anything to say about it, it’s nowhere good. I’m going to respectfully decline.”

“There was absolutely nothing respectful in that response.” Adam chimes in, chuckling as he bumps Niall’s shoulder with his own, hands clasped casually behind his back. “You need to work on your people skills.”

“My people skills are fine.” Niall quips back sarcastically. “Harry just isn’t a person, he’s a demon.”

“Technically, we all are.” The curly-haired vampire points out, walking over to his matte leather couch and retrieving a pin-striped, grey-black fitted blazer from its backrest. He tosses the jacket over his shoulders, shrugging it on and fixing the material over his torso, the curves of the piece accentuating the strong muscles of his back and the dip of his slender waist. “I just don’t care to hide it, really. Especially not when it comes to Niall’s taste in clothes. Which is rubbish, by the way. If that wasn’t clear before.”

“It was.” Niall deadpans, gaze half-lidded and petty.

Harry fixes the sleeves of his coat around his forearms, smoothing out any wrinkles and buttoning the cuffs. He momentarily ducks into the kitchen, his enhanced eyesight spotting the small digital time-stamp of the oven even from across the room. He has less than thirteen minutes before he has to be at Y/N’s flat. He should’ve suggested a longer time span.

Harry turns back around to fully face his crew, situating his collar into place by folding it along the back of his neck, appraising their expectant appearances. They’re all waiting for him. He’s the one driving, after all.

The immortal clears his throat, hands dropping to pat at his blazer pocket, making sure that his keys are in his possession. He sighs lightly through his nose, a knowing grin trying to force its way onto his lips but he keeps it at bay, wanting to maintain a straight expression to garner less backlash for the news he’s about to break.

“I’m not going.”

The pause that fills the atmosphere and the blank faces his friends dote are almost comical. Harry bats his eyelashes at them without a single twitch or jerk of his features. He wants them to understand he’s being serious.

After at least ten heartbeats— a guess, considering no one in the room has one to provide an accurate measurement— a raging exclamation explodes from behind the other three vampires in front of him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

Harry watches in mild amusement as Xander stomps up from behind the group, shouldering between Mitch and Adam and sticking him with a glower dark enough to instill fear in any living being. But Harry is hardly living, and he’s definitely not scared of a vampire who’s practically a newborn. Xander’s the youngest of them in terms of the immortality scale— he’d transitioned back in nineteen ninety-six when he was thirty, which gives the illusion that he’s older when in reality, he isn’t— so Harry’s strength easily outmatches his. Xander is basically the puppy of the circle, and he’s certainly yappy and annoying enough to support that title. His lack of age and wisdom is also probably why he’s the most explosive.

Harry kinks an eyebrow up at the taller, tanned man, looping only one button through its designated hole in the middle of his jacket. That will allow him to show off what lies beneath it while also making sure the article won’t be a pest in the windy California night. “I’m not kidding. Something else came up that...peaked my interest.”

Xander’s fists momentarily clench by his sides and he then folds his arms across his lightly heaving chest, trying to hide his anger away along the insides of his elbows. He spits his words through gritted teeth, attempting to keep his cadence level. “What could have possibly come up so late that you only let use know after we waited for you for over an hour?”

Harry can’t stop himself from smirking this time around, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards with condescension. The statement that he produces is all too familiar to Xander, given that it mirrors the reply he had used on Harry exactly a week ago, when the leader of the group had asked him what his intentions were once they’d gotten inside their club for the night. “I have a date.”

Xander’s entire face flushes a faint shade of cherry red. His forearms tighten across his body, tone more strained than before as he actively wills himself to remain calm. “A date?”

The shorter vampire smiles at him with fake innocence, working his every nerve like it’s his job. Harry doesn’t know why, but pissing Xander off is always such a delectable pastime. “Yup. With a girl I met last week, actually.”

“You don’t go on dates.” Niall pipes up, looking around at the other men in the room in confusion, almost as if his comment should be obvious. “You rarely even spend the night. Said so yourself.”

Harry shrugs one shoulder indifferently, checking his reflection in the closest section of the glass wall that overlooks the city skyline, the lights of the cars and buildings below twinkling otherworldly. “I guess it’s less a date and more a booty-call, to be honest. I only agreed ‘cause it’s easier than having to drag my ass to that horrid club you chose to spend hours trying to find someone. This meal’s already prim, proper, and served. And I know for a fact I’ll enjoy it, so there’s no real harm.”

He turns back to Xander, the man’s peeved reaction tickling him more than he thought it would. “What was that you said last time, Xanny?”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Oh, yeah! I'm just grabbing a to-go box for my already prepped meal.”

Harry’s friend’s cheeks dye a deeper shade of crimson, dark veins webbing across the iridescent whites of his eyes for a flickering second. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

Harry counters the angry expression with a bright smile, his dialect dripping with arrogance. “Girls dig it. And you seemed to dig it, too, if I recall correctly. Remember? You might not. Post-orgasm amnesia and all that.”

Xander takes a measured inhale, releasing it slowly and allowing his anger to ebb away gradually, ignoring Harry’s blast from the past. His next question is physically directed towards their ex-chauffeur, but is truly aimed at the gang as a whole. “Who’s going to take us, then?”

The curly-haired vampire shrugs his shoulders once again, uninterested in the topic that is quickly growing old. “You could take Niall’s car. Problem solved.”

The whole clique lives in the same condo complex, mostly due to convenience. It’s already tricky for vampires to find others of their kind, so it’s a miracle that they’d all managed to end up together in the first place. And it’s an even bigger miracle that they got along well enough to form a tight-knit coven, which is the closest thing any of them now have to family. Living in close proximity is the ideal way of maintaining that rare bond, plus it allows them to help each other in staying safe and keeping their urges in line.

Since they all live in the same building, Niall’s car is in the garage right beside Harry’s, so transportation shouldn’t be an issue. They just always take his vehicle because he’s the only one that actually enjoys driving.

“Are you mental? Like actually, genuinely insane?” Xander sputters in appalled shock. “Niall drives like a lunatic!”

“Oi, piss off! Maybe you should learn to drive then, huh? Instead of having all those guys you shag take you everywhere.”

Xander ignores Niall’s insult, putting his palms up in disgust, backing away. “I refuse to get in a car with him behind the wheel. Dying once was good enough for me.”

“Did I miss the memo?” Niall snaps, glimpsing around at all the monsters standing around him, attitude tight with annoyance. “Y’know, the one where you all just decided to shit on me tonight?”

Harry bursts into an airy cackle, listing his head to the side as he gives Niall a humorous once-over, his dangly cross earring dabbing across the crisp cut of his coat’s shoulder blade. “You don’t necessarily make it hard, love.”

Niall’s jaw clenches as he narrows his icy blue eyes. “Xander’s right— you are an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, he’s also right about you driving like you’re on tranquilizers.” Adam sighs, running a palm up his face, using his index finger and thumb to massage either of his temples, despite the fact that they lack a pulse. “I guess I could drive? I hate it, but Mitch hates it more, so I’m our best bet. Better than Road Runner over here.”

“Yeah, just keep talking about me like I’m not present. That’s fine. I’m spitting venom in all your drinks tonight.”

“Well,” Harry boasts abruptly, interrupting the game of verbal ping-pong happening in front of him, taking a quick peek at his phone for the time. As much as he loves causing some good-natured chaos between his friends, he has less than ten minutes to make it to Y/N’s apartment on time and traffic’s a bitch at this hour. “I have nothing to do with this anymore, so I’m just gonna take my leave. You lot have fun figuring this out.”

He swivels around on his heel, striding away with his usual haughty air straightening his back, heading towards the corridor that leads to the front entrance of the apartment. The softly lit hallway swallows his silhouette and for the first time since he’d left the secluded confines of his bathroom, he allows a giddy smile of excitement to tweak his lips. Just for a second and not a moment longer. If his friends had seen it, they would’ve taken the piss.

Niall’s accent cuts through the air, prickling at his ears as the glossy, cold doorknob comes into contact with his even colder fingers. “I can’t believe you’d abandon us just to get laid!”

“Lock the door on your way out!”

///

When a sharp knock echoes across Y/N’s flat, she nearly screams.

Her nerves have been on edge since the last text she’d received; only after reading that final cheeky message had the reality of the situation hit.

This isn’t her. This isn’t her at all.

Inviting a total stranger into her home and into her bed was something she’d never experienced before last week. One night stands were very few and very far for her— she could count all the ones she’d had on a single hand, and even then they had been with people she had known to some extent— and it was due to the fact that this type of situation is slathered in mystery and unsureness. Giving herself up in such an intimate manner to someone she wasn’t acquainted to in some shape or form…It comes with a certain amount of risk, both physically and emotionally, which is why she hardly ever engaged in such activities before Harry.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with having that type of exhilarating fun in your life— she praises the women who can go around so confidently and express their sexuality however they please— but she herself had been raised under a roof that was moderate and conservative, and that environment had molded her into the person she had grown up to be. Those traditional concepts ran through the core of her being, and no matter how hard she tried to shake them, they refused to break loose. They weighed on her shoulders, constantly making her second-guess her motives and desires, most of which go against the status quo that had been implemented into her brain from a young age. This— whatever this is— is a huge step for her; it’s the first attempt she’s made to take over her own life and go against the grain she’d been accustomed to her whole existence.

From the second Y/N had arrived here in Los Angeles and set a foot off the plane, she had been alone. Everyone who cared for her was miles and miles away and she was starting a new chapter on a completely blank page, with no one to guide her hand as she wrote. For the two months she’d spent settling in and trying to meld into her new environment, she had gone at it with a sense of emptiness hollowing the pit of her stomach. No one was there to comfort her during the rough patches, and no one cared enough yet to assure her that things would turn out alright. No one had bothered to tell her she was safe and that nothing would hurt her. No one made themselves available the way people did back home.

That is, until she met Harry seven days ago.

Their encounter had been purely for sexual gratification, but during that short time they shared, she vividly remembered him telling her that she could trust him. It was a preposterous statement to make— asking someone to trust you when you didn’t even know their last name— but the gaze in his emerald eyes had seemed so genuine and encouraging, and his voice had been so gentle and soothing, and his touch had been so delicate and consoling...That strange young man— with the pretty curls, intriguing tattoos, and dazzling smile— had somehow managed to untie the knot of unease that had been sitting in her belly for the last couple of weeks. She’s stumped on how he’d managed to wriggle it free; the only thing she can effectively say took a part in it was his eyes. There was just such a glass-like quality to them that reminded her of a mirror. It was like they were reflecting all her emotions back at her, using their familiarity to compel her into a state of mental peace. She’d appreciated it more than she’d let on.

Something tells Y/N that this is the reason she had contacted him. She wanted to feel that safety net he had provided her with once again. She didn’t need an emotional connection from Harry, she just needed a bit of mental relief. She wanted something to take her mind off all her troubles. Something to distract her, even if it was only for a few hours. And with the way Harry had handled her last time, she knows he’s more than capable of helping her reach those goals.

Y/N doesn’t think anyone has ever made her feel how Harry had that semi-drunken Friday night. She’d been with a few other people before, and had even been in a long-term relationship with someone she had once thought would end up being her husband, but none of those men came close to this peculiar stranger.

In the town she was from, it was typical for people to marry their high school sweethearts. It was a small region where everyone either knew one another or knew of one another, so it wasn’t difficult to find someone that could fit into the role that needed to be filled. The person she had found was a boy by the name of Bradley, who she had begun to date their freshman year of high school.

They’d met through mutual friends and he’d invited her to their first ever homecoming dance, where she had felt like everything was falling into place almost like in a movie. He was cute, with hazel eyes, sun-bleached hair, and freckles that jolted every time he laughed. He was polite, funny, and treated her with enough respect and dignity to keep her hooked for a while. Things had gone pretty well the four years they were together in high school; their relationship wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t exciting either. It was just...secure. He was there, and he was willing to give her his attention, and that’s all that really mattered to her at the time. She thought that was all she needed.

Then graduation came and went, and so did Bradley. He left for college, set on the intention that they would make long distance work somehow. To keep a long story short, it hadn’t worked out how they expected. As the months passed, she noticed he started to separate himself from her more and more. The video chats are what disappeared first; what used to be a daily FaceTime call turned into a weekly one and then, if she was lucky, a monthly one. Phone calls followed the same fate. Texting became a chore rather than something to look forward to and she could feel him slipping, which left her feeling helpless because he was in another state, far away and too out of reach to appropriately solve anything. Energized conversations slowly faltered into five-word messages, which eventually teetered into barely any communication at all.

When Y/N heard the news that he’d cheated on her, it didn’t even come from him. It came from his roommate. Things ended swiftly after that, which was the saddest thing of all. Almost five years of her life, completely gone to waste. Handling the pain was a whole other misery she’d had to shoulder, alongside the embarrassment and humiliation, which stemmed from the fact that she was aware her peers had heard about the whole ordeal. With the help of her family and friends, she’d eventually gotten over the heartbreak. The weird thing is, she doesn’t think she loved him. She loved the idea of him— loved that he represented everything she had been raised to seek in a relationship. They’d grown up together, their families knew one another, they shared the same friends, they had common hobbies. It was like a match made in heaven, though after it broke off, she quickly came to the realization that it hadn’t been made in heaven at all. Made in a test tube was a more fitting analogy.

Y/N’s love life after that painfully slow cliche disaster consisted of random boys around town she recognized from school and work. The hook-ups were fleeting and hardly satisfying, but at least they were something. She soon found out that she could do better on her own, but whenever she craved someone else’s touch, she was grateful to have anyone she could get. She’d mainly stuck to the same guys for the sake of consistency; it was easier having people she already knew how to please and vice versa, though she’ll admit it was mostly a one way street. Men can be so clueless sometimes that it’d be funny if it wasn’t so irritating.

Then Y/N had skipped town and closed off sexually for a while. She had stayed shut down until Harry had walked into her life with that stupid sly smirk and his unorthodox— yet surprisingly attractive—fashion sense, sipping straight tequila like a fucking psycho from the cup in his jeweled fingers. He’d waltzed right onto the stool beside her at the bar, right out of the club with her hand in his, and then right past the doorframe of her apartment, kindly gifting her the best sex of her entire life. He’d worked her every desire with a certain skill and awareness she had never experienced (not from any of her past lovers, and definitely not from Bradley’s vanilla tendencies), dismantling her body as if he’d known her for decades, leaving her sore and aching in a way she didn’t know was humanly possible.

And now here Y/N is, pacing back and forth from her small living room to her even smaller kitchen, chewing along the knuckle of her forefinger as she tries to tie down the jitters running amuck in her belly.

She repeatedly smooths down the dress she’s wearing, claiming that it’s to get rid of the wrinkles, but in truth, it’s to wipe the dampness from her palms. The outfit had been a birthday present from her cousin the year before and she’s rarely worn it since the move, which is a direct result of her lack of socializing. She only ever really leaves her home for groceries and to attend work, neither of which call for a pretty sundress and strappy tan sandals. Despite having gone out to the club a few times, the dress doesn’t fit that scene either. LA gets a bit chilly at night and she has yet to grow accustomed to the city’s weather. Wearing this after-hours would surely end with her acquiring a mild case of hypothermia.

The garment is a light blue baby doll design, littered with tiny daffodil prints of varying shapes and colors. It stops about three-fourths down her thigh, fluttering outwards in layered flares, its bandeau-style top held in place by thin straps of the same fabric. She figured she’d deck herself out nicely; from the one interaction she’d had with Harry, she can tell he’s a person of refined taste. It was evident in his expensive clothing and his wide variety of precious rings. She doesn’t know why, but there’s a toiling in the pit of her tummy urging to impress him.

Y/N’s hair has been freshly washed and blow-dried, her legs thoroughly shaved into silk, and she’d applied a light layer of makeup, done in anticipation that anything heavier would likely end up smeared across her face— a result of sweat and Harry’s dominant persona. Simply reflecting on his commanding sensual presence makes her self-pedicured toes curl in her sandals.

Y/N hadn’t been sure on how to prepare for his arrival. She wasn’t versed in advanced hook-up culture— her raunchiest experience was in the backseat of someone's 2004 Toyota Corolla. She doesn’t want to get this wrong. Going overboard would make him feel smothered and awkward, but underselling would give him the impression that she doesn’t have any respect for him, save for what lies between his legs. Those are the last two things she wants him to gather from this.

She’d settled for pulling out a bottle of red wine that had been a house-warming present from the landlord. Not too shabby, but not too loud. And who doesn’t enjoy a cup of half-decent wine on a Friday evening, right?

Y/N had just finished arranging two glasses— which she’d found at the thrift shop down the street for a steal— onto the counter of her kitchen when that swift rapping sound had broken through the tense air of her home, echoing from the front door and causing a yelp to lodge in her throat.

Ice shoots through her veins. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She takes a handful of penetrating breaths, concentrating on how the cool air feels expanding her lungs. The technique aids in calming some of her nerves, grounding her just enough that she can will herself to move without her knees giving out. Y/N tentatively makes her way down the corridor that leads to her front door, heart hammering against her ribs. She shouldn’t be this riled up— he’s literally already been inside her. There’s pretty much nothing she can hide from him at this point.

On the other side of the door, Harry is blissfully ignorant to the panic attack threatening to overcome Y/N.

The vampire leans his shoulder against the frame of the somewhat raggedy door, arms crossed over his thick chest as his gaze bounces judgmentally around all the patches of peeling paint. He chews at a piece of gum— which he’d popped into his mouth on the drive over to make sure he tastes as delectable as always— in slow, lazy motions, jaw flexing as he unconsciously pops an array of tiny bubbles with his teeth, waiting for Y/N to emerge.

Harry glances up at the flickering light bulb in the hallway of the complex, nose scrunching in distaste at the annoying flashing. She really needs to get a better place, he thinks, reaching up and dragging the pad of his middle finger along the curve of his bottom lip, absentmindedly wiping off a bit of extra chapstick that had colored outside the lines when he’d applied it. He always tries to keep his mouth soft, especially when he knows he’s going to be using it. Plus, the vanilla bean flavor pairs well with mint.

The sound of a seal cracking open yanks his attention, the door before him slowly swinging inwards. Cool air pours from inside, bathing him in a scent that his frenzied instincts had been subconsciously craving the last couple of days. Harry cranes his neck over his shoulder, spitting his gum out and not bothering to watch where it lands. He turns back just as Y/N’s familiar figure comes into view.

The first thing he notices is the dress.

Fuck, the dress.

It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sundress, but it fits her like it was made specifically for the purpose of testing his restraint. He rakes his gaze up and down her body shamelessly, much like he had on the night they met.

The light blue background and rainbow miniature floral print compliments her skin tone nicely, making it stand out below the dingy light hanging above their heads. The piece lands about halfway down her thigh, fanning around her legs slightly in frilly folds, tempting him with that bit of innocent exposure. An image of him ripping the dress up her thighs races across the forefront of his mind and he can feel his fangs momentarily break through his gums.

As Harry draws his sight upwards, the minimal throbbing between his legs only amplifies. The dress cinches just below her bust, accentuating her chest, and he comes to the painful realization that she’s not wearing a bra underneath; she doesn’t need it due to the bralette-like top. One simple tug of his index finger would leave her completely bare and that conclusion causes a sweltering itch to erupt along the back of his throat.

Harry’s irises finally come to rest on her face, finding that the rest of the human girl’s look appears just as it had last week. Minimal makeup, no accessories, and the smell of chamomile shampoo strung through her hair, though it’s easily smothered by her natural scent of flowers and sugar. He also finds that while he had been blatantly undressing her with his eyes, she had delighted herself in doing the same. Watching her gawk at him hungrily caresses his ego immensely, evident in how the edges of his mouth kink.

Y/N doesn’t mean to ogle, she really doesn’t. But from the instant he’d come into view, standing there propped against her threshold with his ankles crossed and his lean arms folded over his strong chest, she couldn’t control it. He just looks so fucking good— better than last time, which she didn’t think was plausible— and she gets the feeling that he knows he looks borderline godly.

Harry’s clad in what appears to be a sheer mesh flouncy button-up with holographic threads speckled through the material, shimmering under the dim atmosphere of the hallway. The last three holes of the shirt are left open, exposing his tanned pectorals and thoroughly inked chest. Last time they had been together, she’d been too distracted by the aching between her thighs to properly notice the swallow tattoos along his collarbones and the giant butterfly at the crest of his stomach. But now, she stares at them freely as they expand and contract with his easy breaths, her mouth beginning to water.

The blouse is covered by a dark pinstriped blazer, the crisp shoulder blades of the jacket complimenting his broad frame as the curves dip along his waist alluringly. The loose top is tucked in along the brim of yet another pair of high-waisted trousers, though they are creme-colored instead of copper. The ironed pants give way to a pair of glossy black heeled boots, which are bedazzled along the back of the two-inch elevation, the jewels twinkling in the shape of a word that she can’t make out at this angle.

Harry’s collection of luxurious rings and necklaces adorn their usual spots and she gets the impression that he never leaves home without them. His gold cross earring sways back and forth lightly, her warped reflection cast across its surface and staring back at her numbly.

Harry breaks through the haze his physique had cast on her brain.

“Nice to see you again, Disco Ball.”

A shiver slithers down her spine at the deep baritone of his voice, English accent slathered across every syllable and dripping with suggestive teasing. She’d forgotten how sultry he sounds, even when he’s not actively striving for it.

Y/N’s attention jets up from where it had been pasted to his body, the expression across his handsome features one of snarky self-assurance, which tells her she’d been caught. Indents cave into his cheeks, twitching with glee as he bats his lashes slowly, eyes going half-lidded in amusement. He looks so sinful with those shiny ringlets curling around his small ears, framing his sharp jaw and kissing the nape of his neck, alongside those raspberry red lips and the emerald hue sparkling around his pupils. She can’t tear herself away.

After an elongated second of silence on her part, Harry raises one of his sculpted brows expectantly, letting her know he’s waiting for a response. Heat overflows Y/N’s cheeks and buzzes across the shells of her ears.

“H-Hi. Uh— Nice to see you. Too. Nice to see you, too.”

An odd sense of déjà vu flags in the back of her skull and she’s reminded that this is exactly how they’d met the first time around— with her making an utter fool of herself, much to his entertainment.

The crescent above his top lip curves upwards as a result of his grin widening. He taps the tip of his elegant shoe patiently against the cement ground, arms shifting against his chest and she can see the way his biceps strain the fabric of his coat. He’s just so fit.

Harry’s tone comes out playful and lighthearted. He doesn’t need to be invited in again since she’s already explicitly allowed him in before, but he asks anyways, out of courtesy. “Can I come in? Or are you planning on taking me dancing or summat?”

The laugh that escapes Y/N is dense with a nervous edge, but it’s better than a stuttering jumble of incoherent words. She moves out of the way, flushing her back to the wall of the tiny entrance corridor and leaving just enough room for him to squeeze by. “Yes, come on in! Sorry.”

“You’re alright, darling.” The tall vampire steps forward into the mortal’s home, turning sideways as he does so, chest pressing against her own. He glances down at her lips for a flash of a moment, then back to her eyes. “Thank you.”

Y/N’s grip on her doorknob tightens. She looks up at him through her lashes, bottom lip barely trembling. “No problem. Thanks for coming over on such short notice.”

Harry runs his tongue across his teeth, pressing it to the inside of cheek as he absorbs the mildly erotic image of Y/N decked out in a frilly dress, glancing up at him shyly as her chest heaves slightly against his own. “Well, I couldn’t leave you to handle that pesky wood paneling all on your own, now could I?”

A smile ghosts over her delicate lips as she shuts the door and locks it, not breaking eye contact. “How generous of you. My hero.”

Far from it, love.

Y/N slips out from where Harry had wedged her to the wall, beckoning him after her with a gentle turn of her head. The creature tucks his hands into his front pockets, following her down the narrow stretch. They drift past her room (he makes sure not to look in and spare himself the horror of seeing that dumb tapestry) and past her bathroom, into the expanse of her living area. It’s just as small and cozy as he remembers it and he can’t stop himself from scoffing lightly as his sight drifts over the couch. Good memories.

“Would you like some wine?” Y/N’s question carries softly from inside her kitchen. She’s already gripping the glass bottle in her hand, attempting to pull out the cork, and she hadn’t thought of needing a wine-opener until now. Fuck.

Harry makes his way to join her, passing underneath the archway and taking the spot across from the girl. He leans his lower back on the counter, hands remaining perched casually in his slacks. “I’d love some.”

“Great.” She huffs, twisting stubbornly at the spongy cap with all the might she can muster, the rough surface scratching her palm. “Let me just— just get this open.”

Harry’s head lists sideways as he wards off a chuckle. “Want some help?”

Y/N releases an irritated grunt, shoulders slumping a tad as she fails to get the top loose. She holds out the bottle towards her visitor, titling it from side to side in surrender. “Be my guest.”

The immortal pulls his hands out from his pockets, taking the container from her grasp and the human notices how they dwarf the bottle. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is.

Harry wraps his ring-clad digits around the cork, giving it one easy twist and Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off as she hears a pop tinge the air. Harry offers her the wine and cap in return, licking his lips to avoid laughing in her face. Supernatural strength always delivers.

“How…?” Y/N’s owlish eyes flicker back and forth between Harry’s cocky expression and the object in his hands. “How did you even...?”

The brunette gives her a nonchalant shrug. “Guess you loosened it up for me, Thor.”

She gingerly takes the beverage and its accompaniment from his outstretched palms, blinking at him in mild shock. Her slight unease is swiftly phased out, however; a result of his cute banter. It was probably just a lucky coincidence. “I guess so.”

Y/N pours out two glasses of the dark red liquid, handing one to Harry, feeling her heart skip a beat when he wraps his hold around the stout flute and their fingers brush. He stays like that for a heartbeat, with his icy digits sifted between hers, the amber specks in his irises glittering like diamonds. Then, the moment is over and he pulls away slowly, guiding his drink up to his plush lips. She hates how he can leave her so breathless without a single hitch.

The girl watches as Harry takes a leisurely sip of the alcohol, his gaze dancing around her kitchen curiously as she finishes recapping the bottle and scooting it into the corner of the counter.

A thought dawns on her as soon as she focuses back onto the boy before her. Harry looks weird. He looks so weird standing in her small, dingy kitchen with its worn wooden cabinets and fake marble tabletop. He looks so out of place, dressed head to toe in designer brands and fancy fabrics, hands and neck decorated with posh jewelry, and the unmistakable smell of an expensive cologne wafting from his masculine throat. And he most certainly is out of place when it comes to who he’s associating with. He’s out of Y/N’s league, not only physically, but in his behaviors, as well. It’s so obvious it almost hurts.

Yet here Harry is, looking polished and stylish, while she’s sporting a mere sundress that was probably bought off the clearance rack at Kohl’s. It just doesn’t mix, and she finds herself wondering why he’d chosen her in the first place. When she had voiced similar concerns the day they’d slept together, he had told her it was because she was timid and he wanted to see if he could break through that. But Y/N isn’t stupid. There has to be some other reason. Why else would a rich bachelor pay attention to a small-town runaway in a measly floral—

“I like your dress.”

Y/N glances up at Harry from where her mind had fallen, startled by the sudden interference in her dark thoughts. She’d been tracing across the slope of his structured jaw, mesmerized by how it would grow taut every time he swallowed down a gulp of his beverage.

She had ambled so deep in her head, she barely manages to mutter a passable answer. “Oh, thank you! I’ve had it for a bit, but I barely wear it.”

The edges of the vampire’s mouth quirk around the rim of his glass, creases wrinkling along the corners of his bright eyes. “It suits you nicely. A beautiful dress on a beautiful girl.”

Y/N’s belly somersaults, a sheepish giggle running along the undercurrent of her next mumble, so low it’s hardly audible. “Thank you. Again. Thought I’d bring it out for a special occasion.”

Harry’s eyebrows jump upwards at her comment. He draws his wine glass from between his lips, resting it against his hard stomach and gifting the human a cheeky once-over. “So I’m a special occasion, now, am I?”

Y/N looks down at the straps of her sandals, fighting off a grin. She shrugs one shoulder offhandedly, bringing her cup to her mouth and taking a long drag of the sweet liquor, feeling it wash across her tongue and leave a warm glow in her tummy. “Maybe.”

Harry hums teasingly in his throat, tapping his pinky pensively along the bottom of his glass, opal ring clinking against the crystalline surface. The color of his drink makes the black polish on his nails stand out almost artistically. “I’ll take any compliment I can get, especially from those pretty lips.”

Another wave of heat flushes across the apples of Y/N’s cheeks. “You really know how to flatter a girl, don’t you?”

The monster tips back another swig of wine, savoring the notes of wild cherry and pomegranate in its palate. Not bad, especially for what he can tell is a ten dollar bottle.

He cocks his head to the side, irises glitzing knowingly amidst his long lashes. “I think we’re both aware that I most certainly know how to flatter a girl.”

Y/N’s stare snaps up to lock with his, the faintest whimper stringing her vocal chords. If it wasn’t for Harry’s heightened hearing, he would have never known it’d happened. But he does, and he can feel the throb between his thighs spike as a result. The sounds she makes are just as wonderful as he remembers.

The sexual tension suspending in the room is practically palpable. After a bundle of her heartbeats— which is gradually rising in intensity— echo in his ears, he decides to speak up again.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

The statement can be taken into so many different contexts and that’s why Harry chose it. She could interpret it as innocent admiration on behalf of a smitten lover, or as another layer of sensual praise. It’s versatile, successful either way.

Y/N blinks at him exactly three times in surprise. “You have?”

She’d been thinking about him, too. Non-stop. And now that she knows it’s mutual, she doesn’t feel so nervous anymore. It reassures her that they’re on the same page of this messy novel written about their undefined association. Or that they are at least within the same chapter.

Harry bobs his head in confirmation, indulging another sip of wine, letting it filter through his taste buds slowly. His glass is almost empty. “Mmhm. Walked past this candle store at the mall the other day and they had one burning that smelled just like you.”

His confession is sweet and it makes the tips of her fingers tingle. Y/N copies his action, taking another gulp of her beverage, attitude airy and inquisitive. “Is that so? And what do I smell like?”

Harry’s response is immediate and confident, almost as if he’s spent time thinking on the subject prior to today. “Honey and lavender.”

Y/N nods her head in wonder, laughing gently. “That’s oddly specific.”

Harry feels like he’s been smacked between the eyes with an iron rod. That was an idiot move. Absolutely moronic.

He just now comes to terms with how intimate the comment he’d made had been. It suggests that he’s pondered on this topic, which gives the impression that he could be more interested in her than he actually is. He doesn’t need this loose connection turning into some type of cliche romantic comedy; he doesn’t have the space, patience, or emotional stability for it. And certainly not with someone he’s only fucked once.

The vampire clears his throat, figuring that he can clean up this metaphorical spill by throwing a bit of crudeness at it. “Then yesterday I had a donut, yeah? One of those cream-filled ones. And when I took a bite of it, all the cream just came oozing out and I was like, ‘hm, this reminds me of someone…’”

The slightly endeared expression on Y/N’s face crumbles to dust, voice shrill and indignant at his lewd analogy. “You fucking perv!”

Harry sputters into a round of boyish cackling, nearly wheezing when her foot reaches over and strikes him on the shin. He clasps over his stomach with his free hand, head falling back in glee as her features pinch in embarrassed disgust. He manages to speak between bursts of giggles, water gathering along his tear ducts due to how hard he’s laughing. “I’m just being honest!”

“No, you’re being a gross little fourteen year old asshole!” Y/N exclaims incredulously, but she can’t keep herself from joining in on his boasts of amusement.

His laughter is contagious. It’s loud and unapologetic in a manner she rarely sees in anyone and he just looks really fucking cute with his dimples jolting and smile lines creasing. It’s hard to stay mad at him, though it’s not like she’d truly been upset in the first place.

Harry reigns himself in, inhaling deep breaths and wiping at his tears with the back of his large hand as a joyful groan rumbles in his chest. A few more giggles sneak out when he sees Y/N’s flat expression, but he manages to stifle the rest. His tone is jesting, poking fun. “If it makes you feel any better, I was respectful enough to wipe the donut down with a napkin, as well.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry grins down snidely at the last inch or so of alcohol left in his glass, bringing it to his mouth and downing it all in one go. He places the cup down carefully on the counter behind him, his arms finding their way across his stomach, fingertips momentarily tapping at his elbows. He appraises a playfully grouchy Y/N, pursing his lips to hide a smirk.

He watches as she takes another small taste from her drink, her pulse lulled by its contents. She’s not drunk by any means— not even buzzed— but it had helped calm the tittering in her throat that Harry had been able to detect earlier. She’s relaxed now, all anxiousness washed away by the small serving of liquor and his inappropriate (and extremely funny, if he does say so himself) jokes.

The creature thinks it’s proper time he gets what he came for.

“I really am glad you reached out, though.” Harry starts, an easygoing smile nudging across his alcohol-swollen mouth. “Truly.”

Y/N snorts sarcastically, attempting to hide how his comment had made her pulse sharpen. He’d heard it anyways. “Oh, are you? Truly?”

Harry pushes himself off the edge of the counter, slowly sauntering over to Y/N, who instinctively draws back further against the tabletop behind her. She ogles at him from below heavy lashes, glass still perched between her tinted lips, excited anticipation written all over her body language. He can practically feel the heat radiating off her, rising a few notches the closer he gets.

“Yeah.” Harry’s arms unfold, one stretching over her shoulder to prop his palm against the cupboard behind her head, the other fiddling with the seam of his blazer. He slides his forefinger and thumb along the single buttoned hole, giving it a rough tug and allowing his jacket to spring open. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun interior designing with anyone. Not for a while.”

Y/N glimpses down at where his coat had parted, drinking up the sight of his lean torso behind the see-through material of his shirt. Now that he’s nearly pressed against her, his scent is stronger than before, burying her under smoky notes of vanilla and seasoned firewood. A familiar heat pools between her clasped thighs.

When she pipes up, it’s shaky and whispered, covered in a dreamy undercurrent. “Yeah, me either. It felt...nice.”

Harry’s irises flash crimson for a millisecond, but she’s too occupied gawking at his tight stomach to notice. His dialect takes on a low, seductive twang, the breath of his words fanning across her face. All she can smell is wine, mint, and...vanilla chapstick?

“It felt really nice.”

Y/N’s view drags up to land on his lips. They look as soft and appetizing as last time, tempting her to just drop her flute onto the floor and replace it with his mouth. “Extremely nice.”

An outside force suddenly tips her glass upwards and she realizes it’s Harry’s fingers. He nudges her cup until the liquid inside funnels towards her mouth, his intentions set on helping her finish it off. She drains the wine obediently, staring up at him dazed and moony, feeling a few drops escape along the sides of her mouth and tickle down her chin. The jade-eyed boy then gently pries the glass from her fingertips, reaching over and placing it inside her sink to be handled later.

Y/N’s hands fall flat against his thick chest, feeling it rise and fall steadily below her grasp as he takes a step forward, their bodies completely flushing together. His palm trails up the exposed sliver of her thigh, diving a couple of inches below her dress and giving the outer area a hard squeeze. He doesn’t go any further; he won’t until she explicitly asks for it. He’s a prick about a lot of things, but never consent.

Harry leans down, running the tip of his cold nose along her clenched jaw, his warm tongue peeking out to collect the streams of wine that had dripped out. The contrast in sensations makes her knees buckle and what he murmurs hotly against her skin doesn’t help in calming those motions at all.

“Wouldn’t mind making you feel that nice again.”

Y/N’s mind stalls, overwhelmed by his touch and smell. She can feel him sponging tender kisses at the corner of her mouth, and she can feel the palm of his hand massaging at her thigh needily. She can feel his breaths quickening in pace the longer he’s around her, and she can feel the foundation of a moan building in his lungs in the form of small vibrations, which run across her palms and twitch her fingers. She can feel everything; she’s never been more hyper-aware of her surroundings than now. And all because of this one mysterious young man.

When Y/N finally speaks, Harry feels relief flood his system, though it is swiftly replaced by intense desire.

“I wouldn’t mind it, either.”

That’s full permission if he’s ever heard it.

Harry’s other hand drops from its spot against the cupboard behind her, joining its partner on her opposite thigh. He coasts his palms fully below her flowy dress onto her hips, a lascivious simper crawling across his cheeks at the lack of extra fabric beneath her clothes. “No panties tonight?”

The human swallows heavily, shaking her head as she leans it back against the wooden cabinets, giving him access to her throat. At the sight, the vampire’s fangs protrude, cutting into the inside of his lower lip as venom fills his mouth. He wills himself to maintain control. It’s difficult, considering his sharp eyes can make out the chiseling of her arteries pumping blood just beneath her delicate skin, but he forces composure into his behavior nonetheless. With all of the lights on and Y/N completely sober, he knows he won’t get away with another mid-fuck stunt like the one he pulled last time they were in this position.

Instead, he distracts himself with what he can draw from her at this very moment— another unbelievable orgasm.

“Such a filthy little fucking thing.” Harry growls, smearing his lips down the center of her jugular, nipping love bites into her flesh but making sure not to split it open. “S’that how bad you wanted it when you texted me? So bad that you didn’t even bother to wear anything underneath?”

Y/N whines softly when he passes over a particularly tender spot along her neck, shuttering against his chest. “Y-Yes.”

A low chuckle rolls from Harry’s wandering tongue as he hones in on the area that had coaxed such a delicious reaction. “Fuck, that was such a pretty noise. Are you sensitive here, baby?”

Y/N nods with fervor, running her touch up his pectorals and over his strong shoulders, diving under his coat and fisting at the mesh that strains across his muscular back. Her eyes roll closed, her next confession coming out in the form of a feathery sigh, legs parting wider for him to comfortably fit in between. “I just...I just need you.”

Harry eagerly accepts the invitation, sifting between her thighs and hiking them up onto his hips. The fact that he can suspend her so effortlessly, almost as if she weighs nothing, makes the pit of her tummy boil. “You need me now, d’you? How much, doll? Want you to tell me how much you missed my cock.”

The young woman winces ever so slightly at the crude word and it amuses him to no end. “So fucking much, Harry.”

He can confidently say his name has never sounded sweeter than when it trickles from Y/N’s tongue.

When he speaks, it’s packed with all the pent up turmoil radiating deep in his abdomen. “Did you think about me the way I thought about you?”

Y/N’s reply falls breathily from her mouth without any hesitation. “Y-Yeah. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

A cocky hum tinges the air on his behalf. “And why’s that?”

“Because…” The girl struggles to swallow, finding it difficult to match how easily brazen he can be. She pushes through. “Because you fucked me better than anyone else ever has.”

The compliment is one Harry gets often, but for some inexplicable reason, it hits so much deeper coming from Y/N. “Mm. Poor baby just needed to get properly rawed, didn’t you?”

“Had no idea how badly I wanted it until you came along.”

A dark chuckle rolls from the creature’s lips at her bluntness. He repeatedly passes his textured tongue over the pressure point on her throat, flames igniting in his chest when she releases another watery, desperate mewl. “God, look at you. Practically already dripping. Like it when I play with you like that?”

“Fuck, y-yes.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Please.”

And so Harry keeps going, and he doesn’t stop. Not at her neck, and not anywhere else. Not until she begs him to hours later, when he’s whittled three orgasms out of her trembling body, each one more intense than the last.

The first one takes place right there on top of the kitchen counter. He boosts her up onto the table, bunching her pretty sundress around her quivering thighs— as he’d fantasized prior— while she fumbles with his trousers. He tends to her every breathy whimper as she eases him out of his briefs, marking his teeth all over her throat with the assurance that his blood will fade the bruises by morning. He tears his jacket down his broad shoulders, panting into her mouth as she undoes all the buttons that line his elegant iridescent shirt, moaning softly when she breaks their kiss to paint her hot lips down the expanse of his heaving chest and tight stomach. Y/N ducks down as far as her angle will allow, wanting to taste as much of his skin as she can. She wants to memorize its salty smoothness for as long as she lives.

Harry watches her with bliss-drunken fondness twitching his mouth, head falling back to hang between his shoulders as a low, “Such a good girl.” rumbles from his throat. His ring-clad fingers tangle into her locks and scratch at her scalp lightly, strained exhales encouraging her to keep going as she delights herself with tainting love bites all over him. He yanks the girl back up by her roots, grabbing her hips and roughly scooting her forward towards him, clammy foreheads pressing together as he fixes to fill her up for the first time in what feels like eternity.

The monster’s voice is as dominant and thick as she likes it. “Eyes up here. Want to see you come undone while I fuck you.”

The way he spreads Y/N open makes her choke out a scream like nothing else she’s ever heard. Harry simply clamps one of his palms over her mouth, continuing to ram into her at a harsh stride, gasping against her ear with every thrust as she rakes her nails across his back. “Gotta keep that pretty mouth quiet. Thin walls.”

The human feels like her heart is going to break through her ribs and what she doesn’t know is that with every passing beat, Harry feels it tenfold. And it’s driving him fucking insane— she drives him fucking insane. Especially when she looks at him with that glossy, begging gaze, biting into the mound of his hand as he slams his hips inside her so hard, the glasses in her cupboard shake. “Like it when I give it to you rough? Yeah, I thought so. Just like that? Harder? Say please…Christ, you’re a fucking angel.”

Y/N is dirty. So fucking filthy, and Harry loves every second of it. Loves that anything he throws out, she returns with as much enthusiasm, if not more. Loves that she can take his cock as hard as he’s willing to give it, which says a lot, considering his stamina and strength usually surpasses most humans. He’d met very few mortals who can match his sexual prowess and she happens to be one of them. She not only takes it, but pleads for more. She doesn’t just seek her own pleasure, but insists on delivering his own. And though they’re polars opposites at their core— she’s timid, physically standard, and boringly normal, whereas he’s confident, attractive, and unusually superior in every sense of the phrase— they fit together better than he’d ever care to admit. They’re perfectly compatible, down to their personalities and their intimate needs.

As Harry stands there— fingertips leaving welts across her waist as he grunts brokenly against her throat, stretching her out like she was meant to take him this deep, her moans sounding like classical melodies to his ears— he thinks that maybe...maybe he’ll keep her around. A friends with benefits situation would be the most ideal. And to quote his own clever motto from before, it would be mutualism at its finest.

The alliance would be nothing emotional; simply for the sake of providing each other with requited relief, as well as providing Harry with a convenient feeding arrangement. Neither of them would have to submit themselves to going to those terrible clubs, they both already know what the other enjoys, and the banter they share is pretty fulfilling. Plus, her blood is one of the sweetest he’s ever had. Whatever magic lies in her veins tides over his cravings in a fashion he’s never quite experienced. They both get what they want and don’t have to deal with the disasters of real commitment; neither are in a place in their lives where they can shoulder such a big responsibility. Harry is emotionally unavailable, as he has been for the past two centuries and as he intends to be for the next dozen. Y/N has just started anew in a place where she has so little to give and so much to lose, dating is the last thing on her mind. A casual no-strings-attached arrangement would be a perfect gift, bow and all.

And with the way they make each other cum multiple times that night— once on the counter, and twice on that trusty old couch— there’s not a single doubt in Harry’s mind that this is most definitely mutualism at its peak.

///

During the span of the next few weeks, Harry learns a lot about Y/N. It’s surprising how informational someone’s sex habits can be.

The second week after they had met— and the first since their second very heated, very satisfying encounter— she shoots him a text on Wednesday, of all days.

Harry isn’t doing anything particularly interesting when he receives her message. He had gone to see Mitch play at the bar that had recently booked him as a semi-permanent gig, sitting in the booth furthest in the back from all of the ruckus, fingers tapping along the waxed table to his best friend’s skilled jazzy guitar chords. Mitch always teases Harry about how he doesn’t have a job, which the vampire always waves off. Working for money is stupid and unnecessary; any materialistic wants and needs that plague him, he can get with the help of compulsion. Therefore, what’s the use in condemning himself the horrors of customer service or a constricting office cubicle?

His best friend is halfway through his set when Harry’s device vibrates against the sticky surface before him, tittering fingers coming to an abrupt stop. He flips over his iPhone, eyes flickering over the screen, a coy grin spreading its way across his blushed lips. Y/N’s contact beams up at him in return. He’d set her profile as just her name alongside three disco ball emojis, for the sake of their little inside joke.

I’m getting off work a bit earlier than I thought today and was wondering if you wanted to help me with my ceiling fan.

Harry bites into his bottom lip to muffle a chuckle, shaking his head lightly as he stares down at the comical request.

That’s odd. Last time I was there, you didn’t HAVE a ceiling fan.

Y/N sits on her lunch break in the backroom of the cafe where she’s employed, a veggie wrap halfway suspended towards her mouth when Harry’s text bloops in, pointing out her embarrassing mistake. She blinks at his correction blankly, eyes closing in faint humiliation as her true intentions are now painfully clear.

After a second of recollection, she types back some damage control, though it hardly has an impact. Harry’s already chortling to himself just thinking about how contorted her face must look at the moment.

I’m aware, thank you. I meant I wanted help picking one out. I’ve got a few tabs saved as potentials.

He decides to be a little shit about this whole thing, continuing to mock her.

You could just send me the links right now and I can tell you which one I like. You know that, right?

Y/N knows that. She also knows, by the tone and texture of his response, he’d only mentioned that alternative to be annoying. He knows she’s not talking about ceiling fans, and he just wants her to chase after him. Unfortunately enough for Y/N’s pride, she’s more than willing to.

I just think your opinion would be much more valuable and effective in person, since you’d be able to help me search for other ones at the same time. We’d cover more ground. Two heads are better than one!

We do make quite the team, don’t we?

I personally think so. A dynamic duo for the books, honestly.

A soft round of applause cuts through the air around the vampire, signaling the end of Mitch’s performance. Harry glances up to see his best friend mounting his guitar back into its case, smiling bashfully at the crowd and nodding his head in thanks to all their praise. Harry coins his luck; things couldn’t have wrapped up at a better time.

Alright, Watson. What time will you be home?

Y/N stops mid-chew through a bite of her meal, cheeks puffed as the corners of her mouth twitch at his nerdy reference.

I’m off at 6:45. Should be home by 7.

I’ll see you there, then.

See you there. Also, why do YOU get to be Sherlock? Seems a bit sexist.

Harry rolls his eyes at her quip, smirking to himself as he types out his final response.

Well, first and foremost, I’m literally English. Secondly, last time I checked, I’m always the one in control. And frankly, you seem to like it that way. See you at seven, darling.

And at seven on the dot, Harry’s outside her apartment. His friends would be amazed at his punctuality. He only shows it when it’s worth the trouble.

The creature walks up the steps to the mortal’s complex with his Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, keychain tucked into the back pocket of his black skinny jeans, and his tan Chelsea boots clicking against the cement ground. A light wind whips his Keith Harrington Safe Sex t-shirt against the broad muscles of his back, drawing a soothed sigh from his lungs. He loves the California weather.

He gives her door three swift knocks with his ring-clad knuckles, stepping back from the entrance and clasping his large hands behind his back as he waits.

When Y/N answers, Harry tilts his chin down a smidge, looking at her over the brim of his chic black glasses with his signature dazzling smile dimpling his cheeks. He lists his head slightly in a formal greeting. “Detective.”

The girl’s irises flit up to the ceiling as amusement twitches her lips. She plays along. “Nice to see you again. Detective.”

She moves off to the side, beckoning him to come in and he gladly takes the offer, striding into the flat and down the narrow corridor he’s grown quite familiar with. Y/N follows him back into her living room, gaze quickly drinking up his appearance. He’s casual today— less jewelry, more comfortable clothes— and he works the normal fit as effortlessly as he works his fancy brands. Especially with those tight dark jeans. They hug his thighs in a fashion that should be illegal.

Harry twists around on his heel to face her, reaching up to remove his sunglasses and tucking them along the collar of his tee. A handful of curls fall across his forehead, framing his face and sculpting his jaw, as usual. A sweep across Y/N’s physique tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s still in her work clothes, clad in a navy blue polo shirt and a pair of dark skinnies similar to his. Her hair is down, though the strands have a dent that suggests she’d been wearing a ponytail. Her mascara is smudged a tad under her seemingly tired eyes, but her attitude is as bright and lively as always. She appears messy, but he likes it. It’s a type of unconventional beauty that’s natural and genuine, which he can appreciate.

He contemplates her with a certain slyness that makes her shift in her socked feet.

“I got a message earlier. Sounded kinda frantic.” He drifts closer to the human, a sultry tension growing taut between them. He glances upward for an instant, as if recalling a thought. “Something about ceiling fans…?”

Y/N chews into her cheek to keep from giggling, allowing him to press his chest to hers. He slowly begins to back her up towards the shabby couch, which has seen this interaction happen one too many times. “Yeah, I’m thinking of getting one. Figured it’d help. It just gets really hot in here sometimes, y’know?”

“Mmm…” Harry thrums in agreement, deep in the back of his throat. His hands crawl onto her hips and grasps them somewhat roughly, index fingers hooking into the belt loops of her jeans as he leans down to brush his soft lips over her own. She’ll never grow tired of the electricity that passes through them every time their mouths touch. It kindles her needs unlike anything else. “It does get pretty hot in here sometimes. Especially if you’re working up a sweat.”

He pushes her further towards the sofa, movements gradual as she drifts backwards, careful not to trip her. She glimpses down at where their lips are flirting, breath hiccuping when he licks his lightly in anticipation, his tongue just barely grazing her Cupid’s bow. “Absolutely. A fan would definitely help relieve some of that stress.”

“Yeah.” Harry nudges the tip of her nose with his own, feeling her grab at his biceps for security as he continues inching her backwards blindly. “It can work wonders for when you’re all pent up, too. Especially when you’re really tight, which I know for a fact you are.”

The backs of the girl’s knees hit the edge of the couch and she topples into its cushions. She sits up onto her elbows, sheer need inking into her irises as he patiently begins to undo his belt. His long, nimble fingers work with ease and he seems to be in no particular rush, which pricks at her nerves because she feels completely the opposite. She’d been thinking about him since Friday night— or rather, Saturday morning, when he had actually stayed for breakfast that time around.

Y/N had sat on top of her small dining table while he took the seat before her shirtless, leaning forward with his arms crossed nonchalantly over her lap as she fed him bites of lemon blueberry pancakes. The pads of his calloused fingers had drawn random shapes across the warm skin of her thighs, attempting to cheekily slip beneath her pajamas shorts and he’d giggle boyishly around mouthfuls of food every time she would swat his hand away. He looked so fucking pretty that morning, with his curls tangled in tuffs and the vague imprint of her teeth scattered across his grinning mouth, angry red scratches decorating his bare shoulders. That wholesome yet dirty image had left her head spinning for days.

The sound of Harry’s zipper ripping open blinks Y/N back into the present and she nearly gawks as he grabs onto the hem of his graphic t-shirt and yanks it over his head, arms crossing as he does so. He tosses it onto her playfully, laughing as she smacks it away from her face and gives him a deadpan look. Harry leans forward, propping his palms on either sides of her head and bracketing her in, the unmissable scent of his delicious cologne invading her senses as his dark tattoos ripple over the lean tendons of his stomach and arms. His strangely cold forehead flushes against hers and he nips at her top lip, tugging it between his teeth and releasing. His voice comes out as deep and hypnotizing as ever.

“Get undressed for me. Want your thighs wrapped around my head.”

Harry comes to find that for such a reserved girl, Y/N has a pretty intriguing sexual mindset. She’s open to a lot of stuff he’d never expect from a rural-town escapee. Her kinks surprise him, but pleasantly so, considering they cross over with a lot of his own. She’s into choking, which he adores. There’s nothing hotter than feeling her pulse slam against the palm of his hand as his array of rings mark into the delicate skin of her throat. She likes being restrained, which translates into Harry pinning her wrists above her head while he slams between her drenched thighs. It’s difficult to achieve that on the sofa, so they end up rolling across the rug on the floor, her legs tangled around his hips like a vine as he pants into her mouth, damp hair flopping over his forehead and tickling her eyelashes. Ideally, he would have used his belt to tie her hands to a headboard. If they were at his place, he would’ve just reached for the metal cuffs he has hanging casually off the railing of his bed, which he keeps there for easy access. But they’re in her living room, so he makes do with what he can.

The vampire doesn’t stay over that night, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he promised Niall he’d help him out with a car issue. Apparently the motor is making a weird noise and Harry isn’t shocked one bit. Niall barely has the brain cells to be alive, much less to handle the upkeep that comes with owning a vintage vehicle. He thanks Y/N for a good time as he slips into his tight jeans and recovers his sunglasses from the floor, pulling his tee over the already fading hickies littering his collarbones, fitting his accessory into his sweaty curls.

Harry leans down to where she lays limply, splayed over the couch where he had placed her after picking her up off the ground (only after he’d made her cum twice). He plants a nonchalant farewell kiss to her parted lips, thumbing over her bruised nipples jestingly and grinning into her mouth when she whimpers. “I’ll see you later, Watson. Let me know which fan you decide to buy.”

Two days later, Harry’s phone chimes again, this time with the unique ringtone he’d assigned just for her.

He’s relaxing in his bathtub, submerged up to his chest in hot water mixed with Epsom salts and jasmine bubble bath, his locks sudsy with shampoo. He’s in the middle of shaving his face, dragging the straight razor (his time in the nineteen thirties made him picky towards any other tool, especially those simpleton plastic ones) down his jaw carefully, making sure not to nick the little moles under the corner of his mouth. When his device goes off, he halts all his motions, glancing over from the hand mirror he’s holding before his face. He’d changed her contact name to Watson as homage to their funny little dynamic, but he’d kept the disco balls in their place. He respects the roots of their acquaintanceship.

Fan came in. Wanna come check it out?

He had a nagging suspicion he’d hear from her today. It’s another Friday night, after all. He’s just happy she’d texted earlier than last time so he can flake on his friends without forcing them to wait for an hour.

Wow, you chose two day shipping? You must be itching to see me.

Don’t let it go to your head. The only thing I’m itching for is your professional opinion.

Right. Well, me and my professional opinion are washing up at the moment so give me thirty minutes and I’ll be there, yeah?

Sounds good to me, Sherlock.

Harry decides on an outfit that falls at the center of his dressing spectrum— something comfortable but not lazy. Something semi-formal. He doesn’t really have to impress her anymore (not that he had to try that hard in the first place) but he wants to look good, either way. There’s nothing wrong with showing off what he has, both physically and wardrobe-wise. He chooses a horizontal-striped fitted tee made of thick cotton, the lines alternating between brown, beige, and a light caramel. He tucks the shirt into a pair of mid-rise corduroy flared pants that are a dark mustard shade, shrugging on an olive green jacket with red and white stitch detailing along the edges, large images of cacti embroidered along its expanse. His pearls, cross necklace, and he opts out of his earring this time. Rings, vanilla chapstick, mint gum. Keys, wallet, starch white Vans.

Before he knows it, he’s being roughly pulled into her home from his spot just outside her threshold, his cherry-lacquer nails carding into the silky hair along the nape of Y/N’s neck as his teeth skim over the hollow of her throat. The human grapples to push his coat off his wide shoulders, backing further down the small hallway of her flat and kicking the door shut. She holds his head firmly to the sensitive spot in her neck that he’d toyed with a week prior, and he can’t resist the way his eyes blink crimson— a hunting impulse, stemming from the sound of her blood rushing through her carotid artery. He hadn’t fed last time— vampires only need to feed once a week to avoid desiccation— so he surely intends to tonight.

Harry’s hands fit perfectly around the dip of her spine, pulling her body tight to his as he paints sloppy kisses over her jugular. He gets his teasing words out in between desperate gasps and breathy chuckles. “And here I thought this was genuinely going to be about the fan.”

“Shut up.”

Y/N makes a sharp turn, tugging him into her room instead of the living room and it dawns on him that this is the first time they’re going to fuck in her actual bed. All those instances of sleeping together and not once had they done anything on the piece of furniture that was intended for that sole purpose. It’s ironically hilarious and he voices that opinion as they stumble onto her mattress.

“You know,” Harry murmurs into her mouth as she shoves him flat onto the rumpled sheets (she hadn’t made her bed this morning and that’s endearing, for some reason), straddling his lap as she hurriedly pulls his t-shirt out from along the waistband of his trousers. “Out of all the times we’ve done this— which is quite a few— we’ve never done anything on your bed other than sleep.”

That’s a lie. He’s never actually slept in her bed. After staring at the ceiling blankly two weeks ago for about eight hours, he had been smart enough to grab his phone from his pants the second time around. He spent that stretch of time playing Mario Kart and watching Unsolved Mysteries on Netflix with the volume down just out of human earshot, so as to not disturb her slumber.

Y/N ducks in order to drag her wet, pillowy lips down the butterfly inking on his tummy and over the spines of the two ferns on his pelvis, licking across his happy trail. He jerks in response, a soft grunt gurgling in his lungs as she uses her index finger to trace the outline of his hardening cock through the velvet fabric of his slacks. Her voice is distant, giggle breathless. “Yeah, you’re right. How counterintuitive.”

Harry swiftly pops the button of his trousers, helping her coax them down his legs, releasing a stuttery moan when she immediately bends down and mouths at his prick over his briefs. The soiled stain forming around the tip of his cock would be embarrassing if he didn’t know she found it hot.

His tone is tight but humorous as she continues licking at him eagerly through his underwear, nails digging into his inner thighs. “Am I your first?”

Confusion flickers in her eyes for a moment before she realizes the joke. He’s referring to if he’s the first person she’s slept with on her new bed in her new home. “Yes, you are, actually.”

Harry’s juts his bottom lip out into an overly-sweet exaggerated pout, talking in a honeyed drawl. “Aw, I get to christen your bed with you? We’re practically married now. When’s the baby due?”

“God, you’re a moron.” Y/N bursts into a fit of laughter as she mounts back onto his lap, pinching at his torso in fake spite and feeling her insides flutter at the airy giggles that escape him. She gnaws on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a second, watching with hunger as he finishes removing his shirt and momentarily sits up to chuck it onto the ground over her shoulder.

Harry falls back onto the mattress, folding his taut arms behind his neck, biceps flexing with the movements as his strong chest and toned stomach look as appealing as ever. She runs her palms over his tanned skin, feeling the sturdy muscle shift beneath her touch. Shit.

The immortal slinks his head to the side, eyes going half-lidded in suggestive mischief as he sees the way she’s objectifying him. He doesn’t mind; he actually lives for it. “Are you just gonna keep staring or are you gonna fuck me?”

His lewd comment washes warmth across Y/N’s ears and spurs her into action. In less than a minute, she’s fully unclothed, bouncing on his cock with a type of need that boils the pit of Harry’s belly. His fingers are digging bruises into her waist, slamming her down onto his prick with enough force to make the old bed creak wildly. She may be on top, but he’s still the one pulling the strings.

Y/N collapses forward, anchoring herself onto her forearms on either sides of his head, burying her face in his auburn ringlets. She bites onto her tongue, trying to keep a tab on the atrociously loud sounds threatening to spill from her mouth. They come out as broken whines instead, which Harry drinks up like a glass of aged bourbon. She fists at his roots, jolting with every thrust he gives upwards, her knees digging into his love handles to keep balanced. At this point, she’s barely riding him at all. He’s just ramming himself into her from below as he guides her hips and she doesn’t have an issue with that at all. She likes when he leads.

His growl comes out low and raspy, riding on a moan, his warm, choppy exhales pebbling her bare nipples. “How’s that, darling? How’s that cock feel?”

Y/N nods her head frantically, not trusting her tongue to form an appropriate response.

“Tell me.” He grits out through bared teeth, back arching a bit as he feels the knot of white hot pleasure in his stomach twist and turn.

“I— I can’t. I’m—”

One of Harry’s hands coasts down the small of her back and onto her ass, giving it a harsh squeeze. She yelps at the new sensation, pain and bliss intermingling. “Yeah, you fucking can. You will. Use your words. Tell me how much you like it.”

A violent shutter runs through Y/N’s limbs and she instinctively pushes back against his palm. Harry’s eyebrows kink in question as he feels her draw her face back from his hair. One look at her eyes tells the entire narrative: She wants him to spank her.

Harry slowly lifts his hand from her skin, brows raising a bit higher for confirmation. Y/N smears his lips against his forehead and left cheekbone, bobbing her head desperately, whispering a tiny, “Yes, please.” that sends smoky tendrils of hot air cascading down his straining neck.

When the vampire’s hand comes down, it’s fast and hard, his cold rings biting into her flesh and leaving welts, the sound echoing off the glossy walls and tall bookshelf in her room. The cry that betrays her could probably be heard down on the main floor of her complex.

The shattered noise makes Harry sanity slip and he’s lucky she’s too lost in her own bliss to see the way his eyes glow dangerously red. “Fuck, you’re such a slut for it.”

Harry suddenly boosts himself forward, toppling Y/N backwards until she’s the one wedged against the bed. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, nestling her face into the crook of his sweaty collarbones, cracked cries pooling into the junction of his clavicle as he hikes her roughly up his thighs. He sinks further between her legs until he bottoms out with a loud garbled groan, pushing so deep she can feel him in the trench of her belly.

“Oh my God, Harry— I— fuck, just—just— oh!”

His pace rises in intensity, strokes messy and unforgivable as he fucks her into the bed, the cracking of the frame warning him that it might give away. “Oh, so you liked that, did you? Like it when I call you a slut and stretch you out like one?”

Harry feels Y/N’s teeth rip into his shoulder in order to evade a scream; a strong shiver pin-balls down his spine as a result. Her voice is absolutely wrecked as she talks over her muffled mouth. “Loved it. Loved it so much. Want—Want more. Please, please, please.”

Harry holds her down firmly to the sheets, pounding into her with a form of unrestrained force he’s never exhibited. She just drives him to the brink like no one else has in nearly twenty decades. “Can you feel me in your tummy, pet? Can you feel how I fill you up?”

“Yes, yes— it’s so good, Harry. You’re incredible.”

“Such a proper little whore.” He has to actively hold back from digging into her throat with his fangs, his eyes screwing shut in concentration as his orgasm begins to burn through his veins. “Begging me to fuck you like one, over and over. You’ve never had it this good, have you?”

“N-No. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this.”

“Hands off.”

“W-What?”

“Hands off.”

Y/N obeys, throwing her arms above her head and letting them hang off the edge of the bed as he’d instructed. It’s not like he wants her to stop scratching down his back, but he knows that if she continues, he’s going to black out. He’s already teetering, obvious in the black webs he can feel materializing over the whites of his eyes.

“Ask for permission.”

The mortal unclamps her teeth from his bruised shoulder and swallows heavily, her words sputtering out from how hard she’s jerking against the bed. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please—can I—can I cum?”

“‘May I cum.’” The boy corrects, half because he wants to be a cocky ass, and half because it’s automatic. He was raised during an era where intellectual accuracy was of utmost value in society. It’s hard to leave those lessons behind.

Y/N hiccups another mewl, hands curling into loose fists above her head as he continues to fuck her deliberately into the duvet. She repeats his phrase shakily. “May I cum? Please?”

Harry’s lashes flutter open and as soon as he sees her, all doe-eyed, covered in his love marks, with her bottom lip trembling...It’s like a switch flips. When he speaks, it’s soft and encouraging; a drastic contrast from his mood a few seconds ago. “Yeah...Yeah, baby, go ahead. Cum for me.”

That night, as Harry lays there awake staring at that awful popcorn roof with the taste of her blood fresh on his tongue and her steady heartbeat throbbing in his heightened ears, he catches himself smiling in the dark. It doesn't have to do with emotions or feelings or any of that complicated bullshit. It just has to do with the fact that he found some consistency in his life, as unattached and materialistic as it may be. They don’t have a complex bond or a deeper meaning. They simply just coexist. They provide some common stability to each others’ lives and it helps keep an important balance. Stability is so rare to find, especially for an immortal who is condemned to witness the world constantly evolve around them while they remain frozen in time. Society will change, people change, appearances change, alliances change, and though it can be exhilarating, at times, Harry never truly has a say in it. He’s always just strung along for the ride.

This is different. It’s static, and that’s all he really needs it to be. Sex can be so emotionally messy if lines aren’t drawn and boundaries aren’t set. But with Y/N, it’s like they have a silent understanding— an unspoken agreement signed by both parties. It’s a notion that could have spared Harry his life in the past, and it’s an ideal that— even in death— took him centuries to learn:

Some people are meant to be loved, while others are just meant to be naked.

///

The third week is when things escalate for the better.

Specifically, Tuesday night. That’s when the sexting starts.

It’s a pretty calm evening and Harry finds himself with nothing to do. Mitch is out with Sarah, who had come into town two days ago due to the band she’s touring with being on a three week break. She’d said she wasn’t staying for long— maybe a week, because she has plans to visit some other bloodsucker friends in Canada. Even though Mitch tries to hide it, Harry can tell he’s bummed about Sarah’s short visit. The older vampire is good at hiding his emotions, but Harry’s known him for so long that he could read Mitch’s mood even if he was blindfolded and gagged.

The jade-eyed boy had been honest with his best friend, asking him what the point was in continuing to see someone whose depth of interest in the relationship wasn’t as developed as his own. Mitch had simply shrugged one shoulder and told Harry that he wouldn’t understand. He mentioned something about how eventually, the freshblood high would wear off and Sarah would find herself wanting to settle down somewhere with someone she could trust for the rest of eternity. Mitch explained that he cared for her enough to wait until then.

His best mate had been wrong. Harry does understand. He understands the concept of chasing after someone who, in the end, didn’t want anything to do with him. He understands it a little too well, sadly. He figures that’s the same fate Mitch is bound to suffer, just on a less extreme level.

But then again, Harry’s perception of love is majorly skewed, so who is he to judge?

With Mitch tied up with Sarah (probably literally, though Harry doesn’t dwell on that; it’s none of his business), his options dwindle to the rest of the crew. Niall and Xander had invited him to a concert they were attending, but Harry politely declined the offer. The musicians were some wannabe indie band and Harry would rather swallow a nicotine addict’s blood than listen to a couple of morons sing in cursive. Adam had suggested he tag along with him, Ny-Oh, and Charlotte to a new art exhibit that had opened up in the next town over. It was a thirty minute drive, so it wasn’t that bad, but Harry declined that invitation, as well. He loves art, if the giant collection on his wall has anything to say about it, but he doesn’t get on well with Ny or Charlotte. They say he’s “too much of an arrogant dickhead” to be around for an extended period of time. They’re right, of course, but it still hurts. Plus, Ny has a mullet and Harry knows he wouldn’t be able to withhold from making a Billy Ray joke. It’s best he stay away, lest she end up with an achy-breaky heart.

So that leaves him here, all alone at eight P.M. on a Tuesday, plopped on his couch in nothing but a pair of maroon plaid boxers as Hamilton plays on the ninety inch flatscreen mounted on his glass wall. He had left the curtains open, not really caring that he’s practically naked. The sun’s already set and it’s almost pitch black outside; plus, he lives on the twenty-fourth floor of the condominium complex. The only living being risking an eyeful is a peepy pigeon. Even then, Harry’s more than happy to put on a show. He’s confident enough in himself that nudity is practically second nature. His friends can attest to that.

Harry lays across his leather sofa with a large checkered throw cushion snuggled into his side, one of his hands slung across the backrest of the couch as the other remains submerged wrist-deep in a bag of Veggie Straws. His socked feet are propped up on his round marble coffee table, ankles crossed and posture anything but eloquent. The apartment is silent, except for the musical streaming through the speakers of his television set and the gentle pattering of rain just outside his glorified window pane, accompanied by the faint flickering of the city lights below. The atmosphere of the room is relaxed and cozy and it lulls his soul in a manner he can’t put into words.

Harry has always liked the rain. Ever since he was a child, he would sit by the small round window of the attic room he shared with his older sister, watching it fall from the sky in sheets of glittering sapphires, soaking into the dry ground and turning it into a slush of dirt he would later sneak out to play in. When he got older, he would prop his shoulder against the doorframe at the back of his father’s blacksmith shop and gaze at it, mesmerized by how it would trickle down the streets of the public market, washing away all the grime that came with a bustling city’s reputation. Sometimes he would stand in it, feeling its cool touch run down his arms and soak into the back of his sot-covered work shirt. He enjoyed how it would cleanse the sticky sweat from his face and neck, its gentle nature leaving him feeling like he could float through air. Then his father would call him back into the store and playfully scold him for allowing himself to get drenched, warning that his mother would kill him if he caught a cold.

Harry’s changed a lot since then, he knows that, but it comforts him that his love for rain is the one aspect of his personality that two hundred years of Hell had failed to take from him.

The melodies swimming out of his TV reign him back in from memory lane.

Harry’s not really one to enjoy musicals, but back when Hamilton had first hit Broadway, he’d used his persuasive supernatural abilities to sneak into one of the first showings. He’d been curious as to what all the hype was about, and the play did not disappoint. The songs were catchy, the acting was good, and the characters were brought to life through raw emotion and comedy. He respected that. And the plot of the story itself resonated with him deeply, as well. A protagonist that rose from nothing, fell in love with the wrong woman, and made terrible life choices that seemed correct at the time, which would all eventually lead to his death. It hit a bit too close to home.

If he had a dollar for every time he’s seen it since it had come out on Disney+, he could probably pay rent himself instead of compelling others to do it for him.

The play is halfway through one of its most famous ballads when the monster’s phone dings with a familiar tune. A smirk is already etching itself across his face before he even unlocks his device.

I need interior design advice.

I’m still a little sore from our last help session. How’d you bounce back so quick?

Funny, but I need ACTUAL interior design advice this time.

Harry’s brows furrow in mild confusion and slight disappointment. He draws his hand from the junk food container, dusting off the crumbs. Oh.

Genuinely?

Yup!

He guesses he’ll give it a go. He does have pretty exquisite taste; the modern gothic aesthetic of his condo proves that. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

Alright, shoot.

Y/N releases the breath she’d been holding in. Thank God he’s agreed to help. As much as she’s ashamed to admit it, Harry’s really the only person in LA that she deems relatively close to a friend. She hasn’t managed to mesh well with her coworkers much, despite the fact that she’s been trying extremely hard. She just doesn’t wanna force herself into unfulfilling fake friendships for the sake of having people to flaunt. It’s not right and she knows she’d grow to resent it.

So instead, she’d reached out to the one California resident who doesn’t make her skin crawl.

Whew, okay, thanks in advance! So I went out yesterday and got a new bedspread and I wanted some help choosing a new accessory to go with it, which is going on my wall.

Harry’s ears perk up and his back straightens at her statement. Could she finally, by the grace of fucking God, be getting rid of that shitty tapestry?

Well, let me see it, then. Don’t keep a man waiting, I’m dying to play Property Brothers over here.

A picture comes through of the two new accessories Y/N is referring to and the way Harry’s face drops instantly is almost comical.

Which tapestry fits better? I’m thinking the Van Gogh style painting of a lighthouse. The blue goes well with the dark turquoise of the comforter. But then again, the forest canopy has those pretty exotic flowers that compliment the coral stitching. I can’t decide.

The vampire’s face pinches in disgusted horror as he blinks down numbly at the image on his screen. He’s going to be sick. Those Veggie Straws are about to make a hideous comeback.

…two new tapestries? Did the other one rip or…?

What? No!! I just saw these down at the thrift store and thought they were cute. Why? Are they really that bad??

They’re not just bad, they’re worse. He’s going to ask her to blindfold him next time he visits.

They’re…kinda immature, dove. I just thought you’d go for something cooler this time, like a vintage painting or a couple vinyls to mount on the wall.

Immature?

Oops. He should have picked his words more carefully. Now he’s gone and offended her and she’ll probably bite down the next time he puts his—

Another message interrupts his spiraling negative conclusions.

I know you didn’t just call ME immature when you compared me to a cream-filled donut, Harry.

The playful tone in the text delivers a wave of relief that is almost as pleasurable as what lies between Y/N’s legs.

Can I speak freely for a second? Full disclosure, no consequences?

That preface makes me think you’re about to chew me out.

I’ll be gentle, I promise. I know it’s not our usual dynamic, but I’ll give it a go.

Y/N ignores the bristling across her cheeks.

Alright, go head.

I just think tapestries are kinda stupid. They scream “confused teenager trying to find myself.” But that’s just my opinion. I’m only telling you so you know that I’m probably not the best bloke to go to with tapestry inquiries.

Harry watches as a read receipt stares up at him for a few seconds. Just when he thinks he might have truly upset her this time, her message bubble pops up.

So...the one I’ve had hanging in my room the last three times you’ve been over…

I had to actively restrain the urge to strangle myself with it.

Y/N breaks out into laughter. The image of waking up to Harry laying facedown on her bedroom floor, balls naked and mummified within a sunrise tapestry...It’s sending her.

Well, you know what? That’s not fair! You can’t judge my house when I haven’t even had the chance to judge yours.

Harry nods once to himself in surrender, reaching up to finger-comb a few rebellious curls out of his eyes. She makes a valid play.

Fair enough. You’ll have to come over and give me your opinion sometime.

I’d be honored to. Now, would you be so kind as to put your own personal bias aside this once and help me choose which one to put up. I promise I’ll spare you any more tapestry-related problems in the future. I’ll remove it from my customer contract.

Harry sighs defeatedly. He can’t believe he’s giving up his integrity for sex.

Fine. Send me a picture of both of them up on the wall. It’ll give some perspective.

Y/N giddily obliges, deciding to send a video instead. That way, she can get all of the angles in one go rather than having to send multiple pictures.

Harry waits patiently, shoving another handful of chips into his mouth as he taps his foot against the coffee table to the tune of Wait for It, which is playing in the film that has now become the backdrop of his night. When Y/N’s next message comes through, he’s mildly surprised to find it’s a video. He clicks play, watching intently as she circles the two pinned tapestries slowly, making sure to get a proper view from all sides. By the time the thirty second clip is coming to an end, Harry’s leaning more towards the tropical canopy painting. It’s not as loud and she was right about the flowers matching the stitching on the duvet.

He’s about to tap back “the forest one” when something flashes across the screen that makes him choke on his snack, launching him into a coughing fit.

It’s within the last three seconds of the video and if he had cut it off in order to text back, he would have missed it. But he hadn’t, and now it’s burned into the back of his eyelids, causing a buzzing sensation to string right to the area between his thighs.

The last few frames of the video, Y/N had lowered her phone from the position she’d been suspending it, probably thinking she had already stopped filming. She hadn’t. And because of that, Harry gets a full frontal view of her body, covered in nothing except a pair of lace panties and a mid-thigh oversized Avengers t-shirt. The entire screen fills with bare, silky skin and raunchy lace and he can feel his fangs poke into his tongue.

Harry’s not a pre-teen; he’s not going to drool over seeing a pair of legs. What really gets to him is the fact that it appears Y/N still has a few hickies across the inner area of her thighs, which have failed to fade as quickly as the others. They should be gone, given that anytime Harry feeds (like he had the last time they’d slept together), he always gives her a bit of his blood to heal. Meaning, normal bruises like that should be gone. Maybe he just hadn’t given her a high enough dosage, or maybe he’d marked her more than he remembers, but either way, the stains are there.

The vampire ogles at the paused image with a dry throat and wide eyes. Just seeing her like that, dressed in comfy yet effortlessly sensual attire with no bottoms on whatsoever, freely flaunting his love bites around her apartment, probably looking at them in her mirror, thinking about how his teeth had felt grazing her skin…

It’s enough to pop a stiffy into his briefs.

Harry glimpses over the top of his phone, swallowing thickly at the large bulge beginning to tent his boxers. His socked toes curl as he feels a longing throb begin to swell at the pit of his clenching stomach. Great. This is just fucking perfect.

He attempts to tap back a reply, but his hands have started quivering slightly, clumsy thumbs ruining his message to the point where he has to retype it three times.

The forest one. I agree with what you said about the stitching.

Okay, thank you so much! Your input is highly appreciated, as always.

The immortal finds himself gnawing at the inside of his cheek, weighing on whether he should mention the little softcore porn moment she’d unknowingly shot, or if he should just let it slide and go take care of the issue that is literally weighing on him— he can feel it getting heavy against his thigh.

His fingers seem to take on a mind of their own, printing out a quick sentence and hitting the send button before he can rethink his motives.

Did you watch your video before you sent it?

Uh no...It looked pretty okay to me while I took it. Why, do you need a different one? Was the lighting too dark?

The fact that she sent it by accident only adds to the appeal. She’s such a good girl. So fucking innocent and sweet, she could practically give him a toothache.

Do me a quick favor and rewatch it all the way to the end. I think you’ll be surprised with what you find.

Y/N leans back against her bookshelf wall, chewing on her bottom lip as a sly grin ticks the corners. She doesn’t have to rewatch the video. She’s fully aware of what she had done, which had been completely on purpose. She’s only playing dumb to see his reaction, getting off on how flustered he seems to have become. Yes, her intentions for contacting him had originally been purely for his opinion on decor. But when she saw the chance, she decided to jump headfirst and take it. What are friends with benefits for if not for times like these, when you’re too lazy to come over but need a bit of relief?

The human allows a full thirty seconds to pass, simulating that she’s watching the video, and then thoughtfully taps out her response.

Oh, whoops. Sorry for the indecent exposure.

Harry shifts in exasperation against his sofa, the radiating in his abdomen crawling up to his chest and down to his knees. He needs to take care of himself now.

It’s fine, babe. You just might wanna be more careful, cause this time around you got lucky that it was me and it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Could go south if it were someone else.

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly at his scolding, but continues to play the clueless act, curious to see where it’ll take her.

You’re absolutely right, I’m so sorry.

Harry clears his throat, flinching as he feels a soft twitch run up the length of his cock. He exhales tightly, trying to steer the conversation into a lighter mood. He doesn’t want her to feel bad; it’s not like he’s angry about this. He’s hot and bothered and needy, but not mad.

I just think it’s funny you exposed the fact that you go around your house without pants.

Oh, fuck off! No one ever wears pants around their own house, especially if they’re alone. It’s one of the laws of physics. No human resistance, no pants.

Harry glances down at his body symbolically, where he’s clad in only his underwear, as well.

Touché.

Exactly.

A pause befalls the conversation as both parties fish for something new to say. The situation’s become less lively and more intense now and neither are sure how to navigate without crossing a line. In a surge of courage, Y/N decides to just directly communicate her intentions, praying that he doesn’t take it the wrong way.

I have an idea, just hear me out. For the sake of evening the playing field, I think that since you saw me pantsless, it’s only fair that I see you the same way. It balances out, right?

Harry’s jaw drops in an open-mouthed simper, impressed by her blatant suggestion, but also by how smoothly she had delivered it. He mumbles his next words to himself, voice amused and somewhat awed at how she had managed to spin this to her benefit. “You clever little minx. Bet it wasn’t even an accident.”

You did it on purpose, didn’t you?

Y/N purses her lips, shrugging her brows cheekily.

Maybe.

The vampire scoffs, taken aback not only at the ploy she’d pulled off, but at how unapologetic she is about the whole thing. It’s hot.

Alright, l’ll bite. Tick for tack.

The photo that comes through makes Y/N choke on her spit. It’s not anything too revealing, but it packs a lot. Literally.

It’s a pretty casual picture, and she gets the feeling he took it as so just to be a tease. In the frame, all she sees is a snapshot of Harry’s lap, thighs straining against the flimsy material of a pair of crimson tartan boxers, the large tigerhead tattoo he totes somehow prominent in the low lightning. Of course it stands out, though. That’s to be expected; his thighs are thick in the most satisfying fashion and they’re one of his most defining features. She can also see the bottom half of his lean tummy, the cutoff being the crest of his belly button. His fern inkings are peeking out of from below the waistband of the Calvin Kleins, dark and matte on his lightly bronzed skin, and she spots the nonchalant position of his crossed ankles in the background.

As appetizing as every little detail is, the centerpiece of the portrait is the obvious bulge pressing into the fabric of his briefs. The outline is so prominent, the picture borderlines on graphic. His cock looks pretty as ever, even when it’s covered; the thin underwear leaves very little to the imagination.

Y/N has to bite down on her tongue to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

Wow, okay, well...Your picture was much more explicit than my video. That’s not fair at all. Throws off the equilibrium we were trying to establish.

Harry chuckles aloud, shaking his head in amazement at how well she can bend the game to her will. Three weeks ago, when he’d first laid eyes on that shy girl at the club, he would have never expected her to be so bold. Now, she has him wrapped around her pinky like a string.

You’re absolutely right. My apologies. Maybe you should send one similar so we can even out the stakes.

You read my mind.

Y/N’s next picture causes a hiss to stream through the cracks of Harry’s teeth, eyes glinting red.

It’s a picture taken on top of her bed, the angle set from above. She’s laying on her side, her torso twisted so that her backside is in the shot, her huge tee pulled tight against her waist so it creates an enticing cinching effect. Her thighs are clasped together, the collar of her shirt pulled away just enough that he can see where the valley of her chest begins to curve, and the cheeky lace panties are working utter wonders for her ass. He can’t stop staring. He physically can’t pull himself away, his eyes bouncing across every pixel, attempting to commit the picture to memory to keep it locked in the back of his brain forever.

Y/N awaits anxiously for his reaction, biting into the pad of her thumb as the seconds list by, wondering if he had enjoyed the nude or if he was just sitting there judging all her flaws. It’s been so long since she’s sent a risky photo like that, she can’t help but stress. Sharing your body with someone digitally is almost as intimate as real sex and it comes with similar worries and insecurities. Was the angle good? Are her stretch marks unattractive? Are the dimples along her backside gross? Is he second-guessing their arrangement? Is he wishing they hadn’t met?

She practically drops her phone when it vibrates.

God, you look stunning. Like a proper fucking dream.

All of her concerns immediately disintegrate, replaced by an odd sense of pride. She’s happy that he enjoyed it, and she’s thankful for the caliber of his response. Most men don’t care to comment that nicely, if they comment at all, and Harry’s enthusiasm only excites her further. She wants to keep going.

You look pretty fucking good yourself. Wish I could just kneel between your thighs, take you into my mouth, and make you feel good for hours.

Harry struggles to get saliva down his parched throat, her words bouncing around the inside of his skull, sending a current of bliss directly to where he needs it.

Hours? You want me down your throat for hours?

For hours, Harry. I’d literally just sit between your legs and let you fuck my face again. Let you use me to make yourself cum.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Harry’s broken whine echoes off the tall walls of his home, one of his big hands finding a path to his curls and tugging in desperation. He needs to keep composure.

Harry’s next snapshot comes through and Y/N has to screw her eyes shut for a second to brace the bolt of electricity that zips down to her core.

The boy’s thighs have parted wider, his feet now down from the table, knees hanging off the edge of the sofa. His free hand has delved below his briefs, pulling them up just enough to show a tad of the neatly trimmed area beneath. His fingers are cupped over his cock, hiding it from plain view, but the imprint of his knuckles on the fabric suggest he’s gripping it tightly. The longer she looks, the more she notices— specifically, a dark damp patch spreading at the middle of his boxers and she knows damn well what it is. The fact that she’d got him riled up enough that he’s leaking through like that...She can hardly breathe right.

Shit, you look so good. How do you always look that fucking good? I just want to feel you stretch me out while you moan into my mouth.

Harry slowly starts pumping his palm up and down his cock as he rereads her words, catching his lower lip between his teeth, his naked and flushed chest stuttering. He doesn’t want to be the douche that tells her to send another picture, but he really needs her to. He wants to see what she’s doing, how she’s fairing. Wants to know if he has her as fucked as she has him right now.

It’s almost like they share a telepathic link because not even five seconds later, another beautifully filthy photo is decorating his screen.

This time around, Y/N has decided to fully lay on her back, spreading her legs open and drawing her knees up slightly so that her thighs are not only flexing, but displaying all the love bites he’d left only a few days prior. They’re all different shades of purple and brown, scattered over the satin suppleness of her skin, painting a canvas of the heated night they’d shared. It’s art at its most prestigious, if he’s ever seen it. And she has her hand ducked below her panties, the outline of her fingers situated right over her clit.

Harry’s own hand instinctively tightens around his length, pulling a weak groan from his parted lips. He throws his head back against the backrest of the couch, bucking into his palm and teasing his forefinger over his bubbling tip. He spreads the precum all over the sensitive head, whimpering when the draft from the air conditioning caresses it and sends a quiver toppling over his shoulders.

Fuck, she’s driving him mental. There’s only one way to take care of this effectively, despite their distance.

I’m going to call you.

Y/N gulps heavily, licking over her chapped lips and feeling her pulse jump at the realization that she’ll be getting to hear his throaty voice coax her through an orgasm. Not only that, but she’ll get to hear him cum, too. She’ll get to hear every shattered gasp and needy mewl, almost as if he were pouring all those sounds of pleasure right into her ears in person.

The mortal’s heart hiccups when his contact pops up on the Caller ID, phone vibrating insistently. After a deep breath taken to ground herself, she slides her shaky thumb over the glass, slowly bringing the device up to her ear. Her voice is soft and timid as ever, a tremble running through its undertone. “H-Hello?”

Harry’s words come through the crackling speaker as dark and smoky as whiskey, pouring into her mind and intoxicating her as easily as the real liquor would.

“Flip onto your stomach and take off the lace. Now.”

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salemorbit · 3 years

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Hi, sorry if I'm overwhelming you with Requests, but I had an idea for an Imagine that I'd really love to see you write!! Could you please write some Headcanons for how Link, Zelda, Sidon and Revali (Age of Calamity timeline for Sidon btw) would react to a young woman who has a very strong connection to the Spirits being sent to teach Zelda how to unlock her power? Like it's a young woman, around 18 years old, who has a natural ability to communicate with all manner of Spirits, maybe even is part Spirit in some way, so she gets appointed by the King of Hyrule to teach Zelda how to do the same? And maybe she's super nice and excited too? Thanks so much, I really appreciate it!!

oh darling you're totally fine i really appreciate it :D

i hope i did this justice! it's a really neat concept

i also made it an x reader with those attributes if that's okay :)

~~~~~~

Hylia's Guide

[BOTW x fem!Reader]

Headcanons (Link, Zelda, Revali, Sidon)

warnings: none

takes place during Age of Calamity!

also for headcanon's sake,,,,,being a descendant of hylia in this case doesnt mean that you're of the same family? if that makes sense? okay so like reader is descended from hylia and technically so is zelda but they aren't blood related in any way HAHA hope that makes sense

~~~~~~~

Let's set the scene, yeah?

You were one of the descendants of Hylia from centuries past, now a ghost in the afterlife as part of the universe itself.

Naturally, you would be surprised when you became sentient once more and blinked open your eyes in the middle of Hyrule Field. In your head rang a soothing voice that you both heard in your head and felt in your bones. In an instant, you knew it was Hylia communicating with your physical form again after years of dormant sleep.

The voice instructed that you were to aid Zelda in her studies of connecting to her powers. Hylia could not intervene directly with Zelda, of course, but the most the Goddess could do was send someone in her place. And that was you: a descendant of Hylia's own bloodline resurrected from the dead come to help the princess in her efforts. Easy enough, right?

Convincing the King and his guards of the situation was difficult, let alone trying to get him to allow you to assist his precious daughter with her practice. The only proof that you had of any story that you told were the markings on your hands and chest.

Three distinct triangles etched themselves on your body: one on the back of each hand and the third on your chest. Your powers had long since been passed on to the next descendant of Hylia, but you were still full of the knowledge of how to use Hylia's gift and how to communicate with the spirits.

•••

Link

Link was wary of you at first, being the princess's appointed knight and all, but he soon figured that you weren't as much of a threat as he initially thought

You were kind and excited to meet someone else who also held Hylia's gift (albeit not necessarily awakened, but still) and Link knew that Zelda would be safe in your hands

While going on spiritual treks with Zelda and Link, you almost always made the meals because both Zelda and Link can't really cook lmao

Coming from an entirely different era, you had a big book of recipes in your head that you brought into reality with every meal you made, and Link definitely wasn't complaining

He appreciated your wide breadth of knowledge of different foods, plants, and wildlife that you might encounter on your travels

It made planning protective measures for the princess all the easier

Sometimes the ventures to connect to Hylia didn't bear any fruit (and that's okay because the gift takes plenty of patience!) and the mood could become solemn quickly

But you were always determined to lift the mood and lighten everyone's attitude, and it always worked!

You would excitedly ramble off stories about where you grew up or what you liked to do on your own travels back in the day, and it would always make Link feel warm that you had such fond memories you were willing to share with him

When Zelda needed time to herself to try to connect to the spirits and Hylia, you and Link would hang around each other and bond

Link would listen attentively as you talked about the cultural and time differences between your world and this one, sharing sympathy when you expressed nostalgia over your time lost

But you would quickly turn it around to the positives, which is what Link thought was a wonderful quality that you had

If you ever got caught off guard while on ventures by the Yiga Clan or rogue animals, Link would fight just as hard as he would in larger battles to keep you safe

Over the time you spent together, Link grew very fond of you and always was at your side if he wasn't immediately attending to the princess

Once your guidance and knowledge finally broke through to Zelda and her power awakened, Link was so proud of you for fulfilling your duty

He was worried that you would disappear from his life once you completed Hylia's task, but you connected to the spirits after the fact and bargained with them

At the end of it all, you were able to live your life through again with Link by your side :)

•••

Zelda

Goddess was Zelda relieved when she found out that she would be having a guide to help her unlock her powers

Upon meeting you, she was absolutely floored with your kindness and willingness to help her with her problems

You were a wonderful mentor to Zelda, teaching her things about the different spirits and how to harness the power that she never would have dreamed of researching on her own

And wow there was a lot of information HAHA

Zelda was also transfixed with the fact that you came from another lifetime, and you were more than happy to tell her all about your life before this one

She would also take very detailed notes about everything you said, enamored with the way you spoke and how excited you got about things you loved

Quiet study time in Zelda's room would often turn into challenges of you trying to make her laugh with small tidbits of stupid stunts you would pull

Of course Zelda couldn't hold back a smile when you were around, so the challenges would fall short but with you falling into fits of laughter

You always brightened Zelda's mood whenever she was down about a failed connection attempt, urging her to try more and be patient with herself

Zelda was thankful to Hylia for sending you because honestly she wouldn't know what to do without someone that was as kind and generous as you were with spreading knowledge about your gifts

And when they finally awakened, Zelda couldn't be more happy!

Hyrule was now safe with Zelda's power awakened and Ganon on the edge of being sealed away

She pleaded that you find a way to stay in her time and teach her more about the spirits and Hylia herself

Your heart warmed at the thought that someone wanted you to stay, and it warmed even more at the fact that someone loved you enough to want to keep you forever :)

•••

Sidon

Sidon met you when he was summoned with the other Champion successors

You were the first to greet him and explain what had happened with the time jumping and all that, and you helped to put his nerves at ease

His own excitable and boisterous personality bounced off of your own energy and buzz!

Fighting side by side with you, Sidon admired how you always had a strategy and were looking out for Zelda as if she was your own sister

He was surprised upon learning your story: never had he known that Hylia had the power like that to bring someone back to help those in the present

Sidon tried his best to stay by your side whenever he could, wanting to keep your blind spots covered just in case

In your time, you had known the Zora and actually knew King Dorephan when he was a young little guppy, and your stories of Dorephan never failed to make Sidon laugh

Sidon in turn shared his own tales of the evolved Zora Domain, and you found his storytelling absolutely captivating

Sidon felt a pull to you like he had to no one else before, and he nurtured that pull with his own heart

He made sure you had enough supplies, checked in on you immediately when you came back from a far off mission

Just an all around softie I think! Sidon has always been caring like that :)

When it was time for him to go back, you discovered a way that you could jump with him back to his own time

After all, your mission with Zelda from Hylia was over. Why shouldn't you be able to live your life through again?

You jumped back with Sidon to a world vastly different than the one you had just been in, and even more different than the one you were born into

But with Sidon, it always felt like home!

•••

Revali

Revali didn't want to be impressed, but he was Definitely Impressed

Your composure about the whole situation was amazing, and you handled all the questions everyone had with grace

And your kindness was overwhelming (in a good way) with the fact that you opened your mind to such possibilities of even being resurrected like that

Revali admired you through and through

He would be incessantly curious about what the afterlife was like, how the spirits communicated with you, what Hylia was like

You, of course, couldn't accurately answer most questions because, well, you couldn't remember, but you appreciated his desire to learn

You loved the way that he fought: with purpose and intent. There was little to no hesitation with Revali, he always had a plan

When you would go to treks with Zelda and Link to try to summon Zelda's power, Revali would make comments here and there insisting that he tag along just in case

Poor Rito really just wanted to spend more time with you, that's all!

If he did tag along, it would be to Lanayru with his knowledge of the cold weather

He would rattle off safety facts of mountain weather and gear you would need, and you would be happy to listen as long as he was talking to you

Revali would also love to hear about your old life, and since you could go on for hours about it all, he would sit and absorb everything that came out of your mouth

He was smitten in a matter of weeks!

He could see the care and sympathy you had for Zelda as she struggled and triumphed in her process of opening her powers, and he appreciated that you could care so much for someone like that

Revali subconsciously protected you even if there was a leaf that fell in the way of your path, as he was always on alert in case someone caught you off guard

As your time came to a close and Zelda awakened her powers, Revali demanded that you stay (with love, of course)

And stay you did, making a bargain with the spirits and living the rest of your second life in the company of the Rito warrior :)

~~~~~~~~~

hope i got this good!! i thought the concept was really neat and i kinda wished they did something like that actually :/ zelda didn't deserve that angst

requests are welcome :)

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franeridart · 4 years

Text

Anon said: Not an ask, but I frickin love your art style! 👌

Ah heck, thank you so much!!!! <3

Anon said: I refuse to use Emojis but You. Do. Not. Need. To. Apologize. For. Taking. Breaks! We are not entitled to you and you are not required to provide art for us! These are stressful times, and even outside of these times, taking breaks from social medias is completely acceptable.

Thank you for the kind feeling!!! But it’s fine, I’m not beating myself up over it or anything, just apologizing for my habit of going on breaks without letting anyone know beforehand haha

Anon said: your outfit ideas are amazing ! do you have a source of insperation?

Thank you!!! I do a lot of people watching, and that’s about it tbh! I do look at fashion photos and magazines and, like, clothes displays in stores? when I happen across them, but most of my inspo when it comes to outfits starts from me watching people and liking how they’re dressed - in that sense I like watching vlogs and stuff like that too, people these days are so stylish...

Anon said: I really love your lineart and coloring style!! Would you mind sharing your brush settings? Or some art tips? If you don't want too this okay too, keep up the good work !!

Since my brush settings are a reward for my $6+ patreons, I don’t really feel like it’d be fair to share them! But you can probably find some old version of them in my art tips tag :D as for art tips... for lineart the only thing I can really say is to not overthink it and just go with the flow, whatever feels comfortable for you will make for the most visually pleasing lineart too, in my experience! Coloring is something I’m constantly experimenting with as well, but there too my usual mindset is “the easier and faster the better” - generally, I just use flats and then add shadows on them with any color that goes from light blue to pink-ish purple on a layer set on multiply, anything that makes it look fancier than that is just me adding small details like sparkles or shines or anything of the like!

Anon said: GUESS. WHOS. GETTING. OLD!!! me. It’s me.

Everyone is! Constantly! It’s how the passing of times works, terribly enough

Anon said: hi!!! as someone who really admires you as an artist, has very little experience in art and would /really/ like to get better at it, i'd like to ask you: how did you get so good at it? (apart from constant practice, of course, i realize how important that is!) this is coming from someone who really has no idea where to start! what was your starting point, and are there any tips you can give a complete beginner like me?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm the thing is that drawing a lot really is all there is to it, but if I had to give one single serious tip for this it would be to find something you really really really really enjoy drawing and to just draw it - draw it badly if that’s the only way you know how to draw it, but make sure to always draw it while having fun, and slowly you’ll get better without even realizing you are. If you like a ship, draw that ship! If you like plants, draw plants! If you like animals, draw animals! It’s okay if you don’t know how to draw it, or if you feel like your skills aren’t good enough for what you mean to draw, because honestly I felt like that when I started too, and I still feel like that every time I pick up my pen, and I’m sure I’ll forever feel like that for as long as I’ll draw - my ideas will always be bigger than my skills, and maybe so will yours! So what’s it matter if you start drawing stuff beyond your skill level now or later? At least you’ll be having fun with it, and the only way to learn how to do something new is to go and do it, anyway

Anon said: hi! do you do commissions?

I don’t, sorry! Thank you for being interested, though!

Anon said: Hi there! So I'm rereading Quote Love Unquote (a classic for sure) and had the urge to go find the art you had made for it. And oops, like, two hours have gone by of me just scrolling through all of your older comics and art. I love it all SO MUCH. Your artstyle is just so damn enjoyable and all of your comics never fail to make me smile. I'm always looking forward to whatever you choose to make in the future regardless of fandom. Thank you for being awesome!!

God that’s such a nice thing to hear, thank you so much!!!!!! ( TT-TT)<3

Anon said: I made an ask before (u answered it dw) but u thought I was saying u missed my first one. U didnt! I was saying it made me so happy that u responded you’re an angel! Ily v much!!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh that’s good then!! that’s very very good!!!!!! ily too!!!! <3<3

Anon said: How can one's art be soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo good?

Thank youuuuuuuu ;;;;;;;;;; I do!!! my best!! ( ;u;)9

Anon said: You like tododeku?

Yup!

Anon said: Zero grafity kisses are the opposite of the spiderman kiss

How so? :O

Anon said: Hi! This is seriously out of nowhere but I wanted to tell you I reread your Bokuto-Kuroo-Terushima tattoo au strip all the time because it's just so delightful and seriously cute. Polyfidelity is the kind of poly my partner and I practice and I don't see it played out too much, so to see a relationship like that with characters I love and an art style I adore fills me with such warm fuzzies. It's so so lovely. Have a great day!

I’m so damn glad to hear that!!!! In that sense that comic still means a lot to me, so I’m happy to hear it means something to you too!!

Anon said: Friendly reminder that I fucking love you.

I love you too anon!!!!!!!!!

Anon said: Ma lo sai che sei sempre più brava?

aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! (TTATT) grazie mille!!!!!!!!!

Anon said: Hi um did you know that 🤰🏻🤱🏻 this lady had her kid?????? wtf i didnt know

I can’t even see the emojis from desktop lmao but good for her!!!

Anon said: hot take: jirou, momo, kami, and shinsou in a poly relationship.

You know what anon, you’re incredibly valid and I respect you

Anon said: I just absolutely love your art! Whenever I see it, it makes my day! Your Kiribaku stuff gives me life! Keep making beautiful art, and stay safe during this time!

Gosh, thank you!! You stay safe too, anon!!!!

Anon said: HOW do you draw cloths

You keep in mind that gravity is a thing and let your hand do kind of whatever while hoping no one will notice you have no clue what you’re doing!! (...seriously tho I never studied these things I just do whatever feels like and hope for the best hahaha any experienced artist looking at my stuff is probably wondering what the heck it is that I’m trying to do...)

Anon said: Your style is so amazing and distinctive. Everytime I see it I’m like OH ITS THEMMMM and get super stoked

That’s so cool to hear!!!!!!! I genuinely have no clue what makes my art mine, but I like knowing people can recognize it anyway! It’s such a neat thing!!!

Anon said: Were you the person who did those "stopping an angry...." posts? Am I remembering this wrong? If that was you, where could I find those?

Are you talking about my bakuboys comic? If so then it’s in my bakuboys tag! :D

Anon said: Hey, you’ve seemed kind of tired and sad lately. I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay because you’re probably not, but I wanted to say I really do hope you feel better soon!

!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much ;;;; I’m doing my best!

#fran answers #i have stuck in my head sudden desire by hayley williams #but i only know something like two lines and a half from it #it's been two days why is my brain doing this to me #halp #long post

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aiden-png · 3 years

Note

Heyy, is there any way for you to possibly share your planning/outlining process? I’m having a lot of trouble myself figuring out how to write my fic, it’s all just out of order and all over the place, and I feel like knowing what you do might help a bit

omg sure!! I know how to outline a few different ways and jump between the methods depending on the story, length, and how much planning is actually needed to achieve my goal. I don’t typically outline unless I’m setting out to write something over 20k words or I have an idea that relies on a series of interconnected scenes (like a 5+1 for instance)! I’ll continue below the cut...

when I’m ‘outlining’ for a multichapter fic below 20k, my notes are pretty simple and typically look like this (example from “5 Times Wild Did Something Wild”): -collecting bomb arrows while it’s raining -electrocuting a group of enemies during a lightning storm -deflecting guardian lasers with his shield/cryo-launching a guardian and sniping it midair -riding a Lynel and killing it from close range* -setting up a trap and killing a Yiga in disguise elaborately* -getting stabbed/shot and pulling the weapon out of himself to finish the fight

these ‘bullet outlines’ are really good for laying out scenes, story beats, or chapter summaries for multichapter fics. when I write a short oneshot however, my notes are 1-5 sentences that summarize the entire plot or the prompt, and I add more notes if necessary when I sit down to start writing. for example, the prompt outline for “Hero Through the Ages” was this: Wild is reverted back to a child and everyone expects him to be rowdy and impossible. Instead he’s entirely mute, very stoic, extremely well versed in swordsmanship, and acts like he’s a knight.

however, when I’m outlining a longggg multichapter fic, I have two methods I really enjoy using and tend to pair them together. first is the summary method, where I write out an overview of what I want the story to be like in paragraph form. it ends up looking like a Wikipedia summary for a book or film when it’s done, but the reason I like this method is because it allows me to brainstorm on the page and develop my ideas where I can reference them again. these methods are supposed to be rough at first and get developed further later, so the next two examples are plans for a fic that ultimately went in slightly different directions by the end! here’s the beginnings of a paragraph outline for my BotW fic “A Major Test of Strength”: Link has been training for a few weeks since defeating Vah Naboris so he has all the supplies and strength he needs to take on Calamity Ganon. He learns of a Spring of Wisdom (or smth actually not in canon) that is said to have healing/restorative properties and it’s suggested that he travel there to try and regain the last of his memories. Sidon decides to tag along to help/see if he can finally work up the courage to confess his feelings to Link. When they get there Link not only gets his memories of this life, but of all other timelines restored at once along with his abilities. Every Champion had a power, and Link always thought the swordsman didn’t. It suddenly makes sense why everyone has believed in him without question since he awoke: Link is the strongest Champion, and he’s just now reached his full potential. Before Link can begin to train his new powers the Yiga stage a plot 100 years in the making, putting Link, Sidon, and the whole of Hyrule in danger. Link has a time limit to face Ganon before the barrier breaks now, and he’ll need all the help he can get to make it there in time.

from the paragraph-style outline I can make a scene-by-scene or chapter-by-chapter (or even act-by-act) outline which is the second method I like, though I have a hard time writing things I know the endings of. I typically outline as I go after the midpoint of a fic so I don’t lose interest, and will place filler estimates for how many chapters will be in the climax and resolution. working from story beats in this case is a lot easier for me, so I’ll make a bullet list where I describe the exposition in quite a bit of detail, summarize to the midpoint, more briefly summarize to the climax, and then stop outlining. it looks sort of like this (same fic as above): 1- Link hears about a Shrine* that is said to help connect those to their past or smth and it’s in the Laynaryu Mountains. He decides to go for it, as he’s still missing a lot of his memory (he’s not super distressed by this, he knows himself and he’s content, he has more important things to handle, but he hopes that the final piece in his puzzle may help him defeat Ganon). He travels to Zora and Sidon insists on traveling with him, it’s not far after all 2- they travel to the location and become close along the way 3- when they arrive the place is surprising and Link emerges from the Shrine with far more than he expected. A Yiga had tailed them, and upon seeing Link’s powers, quickly teleports back to their base 4- Link spends some time training to grasp his new powers and finds himself drawn to Sidon more and more. The Yiga commune with Ganon 5- the Yiga stage an ambush on Link as he travels, kidnapping him and Sidon. The Yiga preform a ritual in front of Hyrule Castle where Link was knighted at the blood moon to rend Link of his powers and Sidon rescues him too late, the Yiga and any information they had disappearing 6- Link and Sidon travel to visit the Great Deku Tree as Link looses his strength, hoping to reverse the spell 7- Link and Sidon make it at the last minute and are shown the secret location of the Temple of Time, where Link completes the ritual, and is sent back in time to before the kidnapping so he can continue his training 8- Link prevents Sidon from being kidnapped with past Link and they journey to Satori Mountain to stakeout the ritual site so they can disrupt the ritual before it’s too late. they talk and share secrets and both realize how they feel 9- Link and Sidon successfully intervene and the two timelines collapse, merging, until Link awakes in the Temple of Time in a fixed timeline with the triforce and knowledge of his powers and his love for Sidon. He confesses instantly 10- epilogue? Link and Sidon share a peaceful day months after calamity ganon’s defeat, Link training future soldiers and running errands for citizens of Hyrule while effectively retired, Sidon and him officially courting, and everything right in the world

there are a lot of different outlining strategies beyond these that you can use too! there’s a flashcard one, where you write out important events and scenes on cards and organize them in whatever timeline you feel works best. there’s the in depth outline, where you summarize the scenes and events in every chapter from beginning to end (this one helps a lot with keeping consistent chapter lengths and maintaining plot threads). when I use an outline, to make sure I don’t forget what I’m supposed to be writing for each chapter, I’ll write myself notes at the end of the doc that I can glance at as I’m typing. I’ve also used the editing method, where I’ll read and edit the previous writing session before starting the current one so I don’t lose track of where I was. when writing a long piece, it can be helpful to stop in the middle of a scene that excites you, so you have the motivation to return later to finish it! it also works well to finish an entire scene or chapter before stopping so you don’t have to read back to start writing again, but since I tend to write every single day until a fic is finished I don’t have a lot of issues picking back up where I left off.

just remember, the outline is only a tool for you to use! it’s not set in stone, it doesn’t have to be neat or completed--the only thing that matters is that it helps you better write your piece. it’s perfectly fine to diverge from the outline when writing, or to edit it as you go! and outlining definitely isn’t for everyone, I rarely use one because I feel it limits my own creativity in some regards. flying by the seat of your pants when you write is a perfectly valid method too, so stick with what makes you comfortable and what works for your style--and remember to have fun! I hope this helped answer your question! :D

#thanks anon!#aiden writes #outlining #I hope this is helpful!#it took me years to figure out methods that worked best for my writing style so playing around w a few different outlining methods #will help you figure out which one works best for you!#I only really plan or outline when I have a hard time visualizing where the fic is going to go tbh #so I've been outlining a lot recently for two longfics and I still don't know how long either will be XD #outlining also helps writing a longfic not be so scary or overwhelming #you can get lost writing so easily and lose motivation or inspiration--so keeping notes or an outline really helps !

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Terms of Engagement ch.7

Summary: Rus is still a kid himself and with his life turned upside-down, he has no idea how he’s going to take care of his baby brother. Having other kid skeletons appear in his world wasn’t exactly the help he was looking for.

Tags: Pre-Spicyhoney, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, Underswap Papyrus, Underswap Sans, Undertale Sans, Undertale Papyrus, Babybones, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Possible Past Child Abuse, Skellie Daycare, Growing Up Together, Big Brothers Caring For Their Little Bros, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Violence

Chapter Six

~~*~~

Read Chapter Seven on AO3

Read It Here!

~~*~~

The artificial light streaming in through the window was already conspiring to wake Rus when the kicked open door finished the job. He groaned aloud, rolling over and yanking the blanket over his head as he mumbled, “c’mon, bro, five more minutes.”

“Is that how you always greet Blue in the morning? Because if so, you and my brother have a great deal more in common than I thought.”

That deep, raspy voice was nothing like the sweeter, higher version of Blue’s. Rus scrambled to sit up, fighting free of the tangled blankets and choking back a scream as he met a pair of crimson eye lights set in a scarred face.

Memory jolted into place and shame came fast on its heels, fuck, how would that have made Edge feel, that the sight of his face scared the shit out of him? Wasn’t like the scars were the kid’s fault or his LV, if Rus was understanding things right.

Edge’s mouth twisted wryly and Rus’s soul ached guiltily. Might not have hidden that as well as he hoped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. How are you feeling?”

“fine,” Rus croaked, sounding exactly like shit. “better, i mean.”

“Hm.” Edge sat on the side of the bed, his bed, Rus realized, made in the form of a race car like Blue’s was of a Volkswagen beetle. Always those almost similarities, younger brothers instead of older, turn left instead of right, their worlds not the same but still not exactly different.

Edge pulled up the blanket enough to expose his ankle. The testing pressure of his fingers made Rus wince. “Still a little bruised, but you should be all right.” That touch lingered, soothing over the dark spots mottling the bone, until Rus shifted uncomfortably. Then Edge drew away, straightening. “Red wanted to speak with you.”

“yeah, i bet.” Maybe in the time Rus was asleep, he’d come up with some ideas on how the hell he was going to get home. Edge went over to the closet, rummaging through looked like a sparse selection, and finally brought back a neat stack of clothes.

“Here, you’d probably like to change. I’ll wait outside the door if you need help down the stairs.”

“thanks,” Rus said, weakly. Edge only nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

The pants fit at the hips well enough, but Rus had to cuff them to keep from dragging on the floor. That was a novel experience, not too many Monsters back home were taller than him, especially not Blue.

He paused to think of his brother, closing his sockets. Right about now Blue would usually be waking him up to head out to his sentry post. Not today, today he was worried, maybe out searching the woods for him. maybe he’d been searching since last night. There was no way of knowing when Blue discovered he was actually missing and not just slacking off over in one of the Hotland posts, selling hot cats for an extra buck. He knew his brother, so well, and Blue would be frantic by now, Snowdin would have been searched from top to bottom and there was no way to let him know Rus was all right.

Well, mostly all right.

Rus sighed shakily and pulled the shirt Edge gave him over his head. He couldn’t worry about Blue now, worry wasn’t gonna get him home. But as he pulled on the shirt, he could smell the same laundry detergent his brother used, exactly the same, and by the time he yanked it down to his waist, Rus was angrily swiping away tears.

Time to get downstairs and start planning.

He limped his way cautiously to the door and happened to catch sight of himself in the mirror over the dresser. If he sounded like shit, he looked worse, but that wasn’t what froze him. The shirt was plain cotton, worn to softness over many washes, and looked as if once it proclaimed the wearer to be a ‘cool dude’. That was slashed across with red paint and bold penmanship declared overtop, “Bad Ass!”

It made him smile, a little sadly. The Edge he’d met yesterday seemed like the type to wear something like this but it was hard to reconcile that with the sweet kid he’d known, the one who was so awed by his first bisicle.

(I’m going to marry you, Russy.)

Rus shoved that memory back into the mental box at the back of his mind and headed out the door. Edge was waiting and again Rus was struck by how damn tall he was. It was one thing to notice it when he was sitting down, something else entirely when Rus was standing next to him and actually had to look up.

“Let me help you,” Edge said, reaching for him. Rus shied back, almost stumbling as his weak ankle protested.

“no! No, i’m good, thanks, i got it.”

If he didn’t already feel like shit, then the flutter of emotion that crossed Edge’s face would’ve done the job. The briefest flicker of obvious hurt, quickly masked.

Rus swallowed hard, “sorry, i didn’t mean--”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Edge said gruffly. He went past Rus, keeping a careful distance between them and headed downstairs.

Well, fuck.

He was feeling raw and unnerved, but there was no reason to take it out on the guy who was only trying to help him. Rus heaved a mental sigh and hobbled down after Edge, following him into the kitchen.

Red was already sitting at the table and the spread of food around him made Rus stare in drooling shock. There was a heaping plate of pancakes, melting butter oozing down the sides from the top of the stack. A plateful of brown sausages next to a bowl of cheery yellow scrambled eggs, golden hash browns, and fluffy biscuits alongside an open jar of bright red jam, a sticky spoon poking out of the top.

“mornin', bean pole,” Red mumbled, shoveling in another bite. “grab a plate and we’ll talk.”

Rus didn’t have a stomach to rumble, but damn if his soul didn’t give a lurch like it was about to hop out and load up a plate of its own. Rus hastily grabbed a plate and filled it, moaning aloud as he scooped up his first bite of syrupy pancake.

“this is so good,” Rus said around the mouthful. The look Edge sent him was so much like Blue, a pointed ‘Really? Those are your manners?’ stare, that he couldn’t help grinning sheepishly, swallowing before he repeated. “it’s great. considering some of the crap you cooked up back in the day, i gotta say, seeing you making decent food is probably the freakiest thing here.”

“nah, this ain't me,” Red said around his chewing. Edge swatted him on the back of the skull. Looked like he was less restrained with challenging his brother’s manners. Red swallowed and gave him an unapologetic grin. “sorry, bro. anyway, i don’t do the cooking, ‘bout all i can handle is reheating and dishes.”

“oh.” Rus managed a smile for Edge, trying not to let his gaze linger on the heavy crack through his socket. There was no good way to explain that it wasn’t the scar that put him off, it was what it meant. That innocent kid suffering and some part of Rus still believed he could’ve stopped it. If only, if only, and yeah, he hated that crack, hated it. But for right now, delicious pancakes were the game. ”edge, this is really amazingly good.”

“Thank you.” To Rus’s delight, his cheek bones went faintly pink. That scarred face was like a mask overtop the kid he’d known and every once in a while, the kid would peek out shyly. “This is somewhat more expansive than we’d normally have, but since we have a guest for breakfast--”

Red interrupted with a loud guffaw, “yeah, he put on the ritz for you. stay as long as you like if it’s gonna get me this kind of spread.”

Delicious as the food was, that reminder made Rus’s appetite wane. He managed a few more bites, not wanting to waste the food when he damn well knew himself how scarce supplies could be from time to time. In the end, Rus had to push his plate away, only half-eaten. Red was already finished, his plate practically licked clean and Edge only began eating after they finished, polishing off the cooling food and, yeah, maybe his manners were a little better but he still ate hungrily.

Red poured out coffee from a carafe, pushing mugs around the table. “okay, rus. now that we’ve got the eats outta the way, we need to figure out how the hell you got here. i’m guessin' you weren’t trying to show up at our door.”

Rus shook his head. “sorry, but no.” He took a sip of the coffee and almost gagged, “what the fuck is that?!”

“Chicory,” Edge said. He didn’t even bother to stifle his amusement and Rus pretended not to see he was finishing off the leftovers from Rus’s plate. “It’s easier to get and cheaper than coffee, but it does take some getting used to. Here.” He went to a tall cupboard and rummaged, bringing back a small jar. It was honey and Rus took it gratefully, stirring in a healthy (or not so much) spoonful. His next sip was still lingering bitter, but not quite that dark-roasted nightmare of the first.

“happy now?” Red asked lazily.

Rus was about to answer when Edge said, stiffly, “Yes.”

“good, then let’s get started.” Red leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees and his crimson gaze intent, “start from the beginning. tell me everythin', every detail, don’t care if you think it’s stupid, got me?”

So Rus did. Every detail, from getting up that morning, the way he’d been thinking about him and Edge, remembering them for no particular reason he could come up with. The way he’d felt agitated, almost urged to head downstairs to check on the machine. Despite what Red said, he still felt stupid describing how the machine made him feel, like it wanted to be used.

But the Fell brothers only listened intently and Edge nodded grimly as Rus haltingly explained how just being around the machine made his bones crawl.

“...and that was when i shortcutted out. i was trying to shortcut out to my sentry station, but--”

“wait,” Red interrupted, latching onto that eagerly, his sockets narrowing. “shortcut?”

With a jolt, Rus realized Red hadn’t been there when Sans taught him and it seemed he hadn’t figured it out on his own. “um, yeah, it’s kinda like teleporting. sans figured it out and he showed me how, before we shut down the machines.”

“Like teleporting?” Edge paused as he was clearing the table with a stack of plates in his hands. He looked a hellava lot more shocked than Red, sockets wide and astonished.

Red waved it off. “not that much of a surprise, bro, we know the docs were tryin' to find a way outta the barrier. okay,” Red said, slowly. “so you usually take a shortcut to your sentry station. you ever shortcut around the machine before?”

“loads of times,” Rus shrugged. “that’s how i got the damn thing to snowdin to begin with, i don’t even know how you two managed to move it.”

“we’ll go back to that. show me how a shortcut works.”

“now?”

Red raised brow bone and asked with sardonic politeness, “you wanna get home to blue?”

“um, yeah.” Guess Red had some asshole left in him. Rus looked around uncertainly. “i’ll go out to the living room?”

“wherever works, try it.”

Rus nodded and took a deep breath. Shortcutting was easy once you knew the trick of it. Drawing on his magic, the picture of where firmly in his mind, and all he needed to do was step through the void and--

Rus choked on a scream, every atom in his body felt like it was tearing itself apart from the inside in agonizing slow motion. The sear of pain blinded him and he nearly fell, saved only by Edge catching his arm and hauling him back upright. Thoughtlessly, Rus lurched into those strong arms, clinging as the pain slowly, slowly ebbed. They slipped around him after a startled moment, then pulled him in close, settling Rus to sit on bony legs as Edge murmured soft, wordless noises of comfort.

“oh, oh fuck,” Rus sobbed. His hands fisted into the shirt beneath his cheek bone. Little aftershocks were still spiking through him, vicious needle jabs of pain. “oh, that hurt so much.”

“easy, easy,” Red said, behind him, clearly upset, “shit, sorry! i thought somethin' might happen but I didn’t expect that!”

Rus barely heard him. He looked up at Edge, his vision blurred with tears as he whispered hoarsely, “i can’t shortcut.”

He’d been able to shortcut for some fifteen years now, it was his escape, his power, and to lose it felt like he really had lost a leg.

“I’m so sorry,” Edge said, softly. Offering gentle sympathy even though his face was proof he’d gone through so much more than Rus could imagine.

Thoughtlessly, Rus raised a hand, tracing that crack through his socket with a timid fingertip. He’d kept it for the effect, Edge said, offered to let Rus kiss it to make it better. That socket widened but Edge didn’t draw away, let him trace the ragged line down his cheek bone.

Then his sense kicked back in and Rus realized he was damn well sitting in Edge’s lap, groping his face like some kind of pervert.

Rus took a deep, shuddery breath and lurched unsteadily to his feet. “can i go outside and smoke here?”

“sure, go ahead,” Red said. His crimson eye lights searched Rus’s face carefully. “don’t wander too far from the house.”

Rus nodded and fled.

He walked slowly upstairs to get his cigarettes, where once he would have simply shortcutted up. Didn’t think about that, only rummaged through his hoodie for his smokes and lighter.

Downstairs, he hesitated at the front door. His shoe was stained with marrow, dried into dark splotches. Rus’s mouth tightened grimly as he shoved his bruised foot into it anyway, not bothering to tie them as he slipped out the door. The artificial light was at its highest, close to simulated noon, damn, he had slept a long time.

Rus dusted off the porch and sat down, shaking out a cigarette and lighting it despite the trembling flame of his lighter. The first rush of nicotine into his magic soothed him and Rus sat there, smoking quietly, but he couldn’t quite relax. He could still feel the low thrum of the shielding magic around the house, essentially checking and rechecking him for Intent, and finally, Rus stood and took a few steps away until the feeling faded.

From here, he could get a pretty good look at the town. If it was maybe a little dingy-er than his version of Snowdin, that wasn’t the only change. Instead of the bright, elegant sign lettering for Muffet’s Bakery, there was bold, plain one declaring itself as Grillby’s. He was too far away to see inside, but the Monster stumbling out the door didn’t look like they’d stopped in for a pastry.

The only Grillbie he knew was a Fire Monster who lived over in Hotland and she wouldn’t have been caught alive in Snowdin, since she was pretty much sure the snow would snuff her out two steps in.

He wondered if this world’s Muffet was in Hotland, if she ran her bakery out there and did she stop at a sentry station sometimes for a hotcat, or whatever they had here? Was Edge friends with this Grillby, did he stop in to get all the gossip? What else was not quite the same, tipped to one side and wrong? He didn’t know, but it was something to think about, wasn’t it. Better than remembering that he was stuck here and the wall surrounding Snowdin was in sight, a magic-soaked barrier to keep out whatever horrors lived in the Woods.

He stood there, lost in his wondering with nothing but miserable time to do it in, and that was how the children found him. The same kids he’d seen yesterday or maybe not, Rus couldn’t be sure.They approached him curiously, warily, all of them in worn clothes showing neat patches and clomping around in an older siblings’ hand-me-down boots. But their cheeks were full and their eyes were bright, interested in this new stranger in their midst. The pack of them were standing around the mailboxes, huddling together as if by sticking close, maybe Rus wouldn’t see them staring.

They almost looked familiar, another sidestep away from his world.

“hey,” Rus called out to them. A half dozen pairs of eyes went wide, one kid muffling a startled shriek and Rus shook his head. Kids. Looked like they were about the same even in different universes. He crouched to put out his cigarette in the snow before shoving the butt into his pocket. “hey, you guys want to see a magic trick?”

That got ‘em. Rus reached into his pocket and pulled out a G coin, weaving it easily through his fingers. It was a cheap trick but it do look impressive to a kid, and soon the boldest of them left the herd, creeping in closer to watch with wide eyes as Rus spun the gold piece through his fingers, walking it across his knuckles in a spin and a dance.

Since he didn’t grab the brave one and eat him or something, the other kids seemed to decide he was safe enough. They all crept closer, a collection of wide eyes and runny noses, watching as he switched hands, staring as that coin pirouetted and twirled across the backs of his fingers.

He ended with a flourish, the coin spinning up high for Rus to snatch out of the air. He bowed grandly and the kids gave him a smattering of applause.

“ah, but i’m not finished! watch this.”

He crouched down next to the bold kid and showed him the coin. “i bet you can blow this coin away. wanna try?”

The kid nodded furiously and Rus went through the whole show of it. Waving it around so all the kids could see, carefully palming it before holding out his empty fist for the kid to blow on. The round of gasps that came when he opened his hand to show the ‘vanished’ coin was better than any applause from doing card tricks at the NTT resort.

“oh, but wait!” Rus reached behind the kid’s head and ‘plucked’ the coin from thin air, showing it to them all. “Didn’t get far, did it? Here, kid.” He flipped the coin and it spun in the air, head over tails. The kid fumbled for it, wide eyes shining almost as much as the coin.

“For me?”

Again, that memory of the bisicle, of Edge’s low, childish whisper as if he couldn’t believe anything so wonderful could be his. This time it was almost paralyzing, Rus standing with his grin frozen even as the child’s smile began to wobble.

“um. yeah.” Rus fumbled for words before that smile could disappear. “yeah, it’s...it’s all yours, big guy.”

The kid didn’t even say thank you and Rus didn’t give a shit. It was all right there, in those wide, wide eyes and all the kids surrounded him as they walked away, chattering excitedly. Rus watched them go, the turmoil of his emotions swerving into a new direction.

“That’s the second time I’ve seen that trick and I’m still not sure how you did it.”

If he wasn’t already a skeleton, Rus would have jumped out of his fucking skin. As it was, he jerked so hard he almost toppled into the snow, his sore ankle raising everloving hell. Edge was a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets and a faint smile playing on his mouth. Maybe Rus was getting used to that scar, he actually relaxed to see it was only Edge.

“a magician never reveals his secrets,” Rus said breezily. Then curiously, “you remember that?”

“Of course. That was the last morning I saw you.”

Edge reached into the front of his shirt and pulled out a chain and Rus blinked when Edge showed him that dangling from it was a G coin, as untarnished and shiny as the day he’d given it away.

“you kept it?” Rus asked, disbelieving. He reached up to touch it without thinking, hesitating inches away, his hand curling into a fist.

Edge didn’t seem to notice. His wry grin was softer, teasing. “Well, I had to. It seems that my world doesn’t take G with the Queen’s face on it.” Then he sobered. “I wouldn’t have used it, anyway. You gave it to me.”

“i…” Rus didn’t know what to say to that. He looked up into Edge’s face, searching for any sign of that kid...kids. He looked around wildly, but all the sprogs were gone. “shit! that means he won’t be able to spend that!”

“I’ll take care of it. It was kind of you, to give him that.”

Rus shrugged uncomfortably. “no big deal, it’s only a g.”

The way Edge studied him, deep crimson eye lights resting on Rus’s face, was unsettling in a way Rus couldn’t quite explain. “You still do that, too.”

“do what?” Rus asked distractedly. Another cigarette sounded great right now and he started rummaging for the crumpled pack, fishing one out.

“Deflect when someone compliments you.”

Rus froze, unlit cigarette clenched in his teeth. No fucking way, Edge was hardly more than a baby bones when they closed off their machine, he didn’t need late-day psychoanalysis from someone who slept with a teddy bear. Rus shook his head, trying not to snap as he said, “i do not! it’s not a big deal, that’s all!”

“You do, but that’s all right, Russy.” Edge smiled and there it was, always in that smile. Little Edge, the kid who sat in his lap for stories. “I don’t mind telling you again. Excuse me, I’d better catch them before they try to use that coin in the shop.”

He strode off and Rus watched him go. Putting this version of Edge on top of his memories was almost exactly like trying to compare this Snowdin to his own. Not quite right, tipped a little to the side, and off.

He still wasn’t sure whether it was a good or a bad thing.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underswap sans #underfell sans #undertale papyrus #undertale sans #baby bones #terms of engagement

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thecozywhaleshark · 5 years

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Pocket Monsta X - Home Alone

A/n: An anon request for Pocket MX being home alone while their mom runs errands and when their mom gets back

Shownu:

is a good, quiet pocket

most of the time

if home alone he will do either two things: 1. read quietly

or 2. turn on the radio to his favorite station and crank the volume

dances and head bangs around the house

will probably be shirtless

only a pocket trained ear will be able to hear faint screaming as he sings if anyone should pass by the house while this is happening

blushes so hard if you catch him head-banging on the kitchen counter and shyly grabs his shirt before scampering away

Wonho:

will pout when you leave

watches from the window with his nose pressed against the glass until your car is out of sight

then is scampering down the back of the couch to the kitchen

stuffs his face with his favorite things (he especially loves marshmallows)

grabs food and hides it in places only he knows so he can sneakily have a snack without you knowing later

will be very clever about it, hide it in low places you won’t think to look

might watch tv

gets really into the cooking shows

even though he knows he's not allowed to watch them (he gets too aggressive over them, you say its bad for his blood pressure)

will keep his eyes glued to the television watching Chopped and screaming at them things like “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SEAR THE STEAK SAM! NOT BURN IT!” or “YOU FORGOT TO HEAT UP THE OVEN YOU DUM DUM!”

as soon as he hears your car in the driveway he’s quick to turn off the tv and run to his little weight set, pretends he's been working out the entire time you’ve been gone

gives you the biggest hug when he sees you

coaxes you into cuddles ~ though it doesn’t take much now does it

Kihyun:

alternates between wandering the house and doodling pictures

if he’s feeling in a cleaning mode might go around the house picking up lint off the carpet

if not he might just reorganize his entire closet a couple of times

will do it by brand, by sleeve length, by color... keeps doing it until he’s satisfied

eventually just lays on the floor and stares at the popcorn ceiling, drawing patterns in his head, might start humming a tune

twiddles his wee little thumbs on his stomach until you come home

so relieved when you do because he’s been so b o r e d

immediately wants to be put right back on your shoulder

will be excited to help you restock the pantries and get everything all neat and organized

Minhyuk:

gathers all of his stuffed animals and climbs up onto your bed

has a little tea party

brings little doll cups of water and some Cheetos onto the bed to serve his friends

it will start out innocent but he’ll soon add drama to the conversation

will sigh dramatically and cause all the drama himself, all “Theodore, please.” and, “Dolly, we all know you would look so much better with a little more stuffing in your cheeks.”

will turn his little tea party into a war zone, making his toys fight each other and spilling the water all over the bed, eating the snacks and leaving little orange hand and footprints everywhere

will eventually tire himself out and fall asleep mid play

that's where you find them when you come back

you will be mad that your white sheets are damp and smeared with orange goo

but he looks so cute sleeping on top of his teddy bear that you can’t bear to wake him

Hyungwon:

wanders the house randomly touching everything

spends a lot of time contemplating where things came from or what would happen if they were to, by chance, break

talks to himself

gives a detailed description of every room in the house and what you guys do there to imaginary real-estate sellers and potential buyers

will get teary-eyed if he remembers something emotional while giving the ‘tour’

will sigh at himself in annoyance and head back towards the front door to start over

will stare at you solemnly when you come in after getting the groceries

if you ask him “hey buddy! what have you been up to today?” he’ll probably just blink and walk away, still lost in his own mind and showing the imaginary guests out the door

Jooheon:

as soon as you’re gone he’s taking out all of his hot wheels and setting up the most elaborate race track

it’ll take him a couple of tries - could take him all day

but he’ll climb everywhere to get some cool jumps

if his car can’t make the jump he’ll ‘fly’ them to where they need to be

which could be in a completely different part of the house

he won’t be done when you come home

be prepared to have to step over all his tracks and have to help him clean it all up later

he’ll want you to grab your own car and race him, turning chores into playtime as fast as he can

I.M:

takes a nap when you leave so he has less time missing you and feeling alone in the big empty house

will try to pull some big kid prank that he’s too little to make happen but he’ll try to do it anyway

like he’ll try to rig up a bucket of water balanced precariously on the door

but he’ll use a plastic cup and the sink sprayer to fill it

he’ll accidentally tip it over on the counter when he’s trying to move it

soaks anything that’s nearby

panics as it drips down the cabinets and onto the floor

scampers away

is in denial when you come home and see water everywhere

“I don't know mom the sink does crazy things sometimes...maybe you oughta get that checked out.”

~~~

Tag List: @zerotexas1975 @restfromthestreets @purpletigertaetae @tangledsparkles @jedi-cat-6 @ruinedbyjin

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hellolittleogre · 4 years

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AO3 tag meme

Tagged by the lovely @lazaefair

Fandoms: Mag7 (2016), IT (1990), Pacific Rim, Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency (TV-show), Burnt, Guardians of the Galaxy, Sherlock (BBC)

Number of fics: 16

Fic I spent the most time on: I think Babel Fish (Pacific Rim) I think I started it in the heyday of Pacific Rim fandom in 2012 or 13, and it was published in 2017.

Fic I spent the least time on: Possibly Cupid is No Longer an Archer, which I wrote in a possessed haze on my phone in my 20 minute lunch breaks and on my commute (apologies to anyone reading the screen over my shoulder), which was started at the end of February and published in April (thats the power of antidepressants for you).

Longest fic: The Once and Future King in Burnt fandom clocks in at 16849 words, I remember looking at it and thinking that 6000 words longer than my actual academic degree, which up to that point had been the longest thing I’ve ever written and I didn’t even know how it had happened.

Shortest fic: First fic I ever wrote just when I got my AO3 invite, Care (BBC Sherlock*) is 1538 words. I might have shorter fic floating around on tumblr but I can't remember. I have an incredible problem keeping things short.

(*Don’t judge me, we have all been there!)

Most hits: Five times Eddie and Richie Kissed, which makes sense as that is the biggest fandom, although I have to say I’m surprised that people even find it, as it is in the much smaller and less glamorous fandom of the IT 1990- tv show, and there is such a huge amount of Eddie/Richie fics now that I rarely make it past the first page of the tag.

Most kudos: Promise you the Stars and the Moon too (Guardians of the Galaxy), again its in the largest fandom so makes sense. Its not very good though? I wrote it high as a kite on stress and sleep deprivation out of angry spite over that the Guardians of the Galaxy fandom, in spite of being a very silly film, was such a serious and angsty fandom (ugh, do not try to make me care about Peter Quill’s emotions.)

Most comment thread: Dangers of Bedtime Reading (Mag 7), its the one with most chapters in a very chatty fandom so that scans.

Most bookmarks: Promise you the Stars and the Moon to, tightly followed by the Once and Future King.

Total word count: 124824, but its sort of a spiders George situation because I wrote more than half of that in 2019 possessed by the Magnificent Seven fandom demon, and I’m not likely to ever do that feat again.

Favorite fic: I tend to be in love with every fic I finish, just because I’ve managed to finish it? But I’m very proud of With a Smile and a Song, because the @squarebosk art is so amazing, and I love the silliness of In Vino Veritas, its also my first Mag7 fic and sort of the one that loosened the floodgate.

Fic I most want to expand on/rewrite: UUUUUghhh I want to finish My Virtues Uncounted, because it deserves to be completed, also I hate having it out there just hanging. I think I would, if i had to go back to something rewrite What Dreams May Come, because I didn't get the premise right and its pretty much a nothingburger of a fic.

Share a bit of a wip/story idea you’re working on: Goodnight breaks his arm and he and Billy has to lay low in a bordello, and in order to keep Billy from an unwise liaison Goody tells the proprietress that they are “particular friends” and Billy just walks around and wonders why his charms are so unappreciated. I got too bogged down in the details and now it's languishing in a WiP folder hell.

There’s velvet everywhere and heavy gold framed paintings on the walls and there is honest to God a lady plucking a goddamn harp in the corner, the notes as tinkling and clear as the glimmering beads on the chandelier above their heads. It makes Billy want to hide his hands behind his back in case they got dirty during the train journey. He balls them into fists instead, held stiffly by his side as if he was squaring up for a fight.

“Bonne Nuit!” a lady shouts from the other end of the room and Goody is suddenly enveloped in another female embrace. And why is everyone but Billy speaking French?

“Oh petit pauvre, oh, just look at the state of you,” she says, in English, hanging on his arm. “You didn’t get into a fight, did you sugar?”

The woman is exceptionally beautiful, and well made up. She is heavily corseted in a pink striped skirt, straight at the front and gathered in folds and folds at her back and a tight bodice leaving her shoulders and arms bare. Billy has never seen such a dress, it’s like she is dressed in the entire curtain from the variety theaters Goodnight favours, yet still short enough that it ends well above her neat and gleaming boot tops. Her arms are almost glowing in the golden candle light with the velvet softness of peaches and Billy is not entirely sure where to look.

“Only with a hill,” Goody says and winks. “I’m afraid the hill won.” He seems entirely comfortable with this and Billy feels for a moment irrationally angry with him for being so at home here, in spite of the fact that he right now looks like 40 miles of rough road.

“You’ll have to tell me all about it when you’re better, honey,” she says in the same rich drawl as Goodnight, and leads them towards another door and into a dim stairway. As the door closes she loses some of her effusive manners but her smile becomes more real. She let go of Goody’s arm and immediately took some of the bags from Billy, without any hesitation or difficulty.

“Billy, I’d like you to meet the proprietress of this fine establishment, Mrs Norah Dumont, and Norah, this is my associate and good friend Billy Rocks.”

Mrs Dumont’s handshake is firm like a farrier’s and she has clear blue eyes that sought Billy’s and held them, with frank appraisal. He can see now that she is not so young as he first surmised with faint lines around her eyes and mouth but she still exudes a youthful energy.

Tagging: @fontainebleau22, @poemsingreenink @northstarfan and anyone else who wants to have a go

#writing #ao3 tag meme #fanfiction

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greyliliy · 5 years

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ALRIGHT. So a while ago, I saw a gif set for Hazbin Hotel and went “oh no” because I’m always weak for a well dressed evil dude in a suit. Always. *looks at Bill Cipher and the Once-ler, even if the second was more misguided ignorance but he got to be in fandom so it still counts and Mr. Graves*

I was scared of getting obsessed so I decided to put off watching it.

Then my friend was like “You need to see this” and I was like “noooo, I don’t want to get obsessed” and his response was “..you’re going to be obsessed. I know you. XD” followed by a demand for reactions and well.

I promised I’d live blog watching it for him.

So let’s do this.

(Note: The show is definitely R rated. So keep that in mind if you want to watch. XD)

Hazbin Hotel

There is singing.

He mentioned that but I forgot already. XD

I love this animation already. I already did from the gifs I saw, but it looks so good.

Also you can’t go wrong with songs about Rainbows. Ever.

I love this main girl already.

Multi-armed dude is fun. I need to look up his voice. *pauses video* Okay, so that guy is Angel Dust and he’s voiced by Michael Kovach. Huh. His voice sounds super familiar but I haven’t seen anything else he’s in. XD

*leaves wiki open*

Talking eggs.

“I wish he’d shoot me with his ray gun.”

You and me both, little egg. *so weak for suits…and snakes* (But not really. I can’t look at I’m if I got hit by a ray gun. :P)

The character designs in this are really nice. It all looks like it goes together in the same universe, but there’s still so much variety and neat tricks like this man’s hair looking like a cobra’s hood.

I love Charlie.

LET HER SING.

Charlie’s so cute.

I love her.

But for real. LET HER SING.

Killjoy is fun.

The sound effects are good, too.

Vaggie is a sweetheart.

YES.

BLESS.

SONGS.

My mouth dropped.

I love the little goat servants.

And the little flashes of scary Charlie.

FANGS.

I could put this song on loop.

I knew they were all gonna’ boo and laugh because of story but I don’t believe it. That music number was too epic.

I love Tom, too.

Killjoy and Tom are still great. Great antagonists.

“Harder, Daddy~”

*gasp* “Son!?”

I think I might have died.

I’m dead.

I’m screaming.

Why is that so funny?

Also Angel Dust commenting on his sex jokes and the guy not getting it is kinda amazing.

Vaggie is gonna’ kill Angel Dust.

The faces Angel Dust makes are so good. I’ve said it a few times now, but the Animation in tis is SO GOOD. I love how fluid it is and everyone’s expressions. There’s so much life and style.

“Whatever pisses you off more.” is a bold response. Lol.

I already dislike Charlie’s mom.

And it’ll stay that way until we find out she’s dead or something and physically can’t answer.

There he is.

Alastor.

That voice is not what I was expecting.

The Radio Man.

I love him.

“Why does anyone do anything? Sheer. Absolute. Boredom.”

Lord, it’s happening.

Evil jack ass in a suit with a charismatic voice.

Every. Freaking. Time.

(Shark teeth don’t hurt either. Fangs. Always good.)

You know. He’s almost being so straight forward about his goals of watching other demons fail that I’m genuinely curious if that’s his real aim and he’s just the honest sort (which adds SO MANY BROWNIE points because Honest Villains are the Best Villains) or if it’s covering up something worse.

I’m shipping Vaggie and Angel Dust. They have that vitriolic best friends thing going on that I’m weak for. I need to see them bicker.

(Yes, I also think the canon couple of Vaggie and Charlie is cute and awesome. But I am a multi-shipper and nothing will change that. :D)

Also I can see myself OT4’ing this group. Lol.

Vaggie’s concern and love for Charlie is amazing though. She’s so protective, I love her.

And Charlie’s optimism balances her pessimism.

“You don’t take shit from other demons!”

I’m looking forward to seeing Charlie cut loose later.

DEALS.

There’s those Bill Cipher vibes. Love it. XD

That. Order.

Lord, I love Charlie.

Vaggie and Alastor are gonna’ throw down.

Alastor has tiny horns. I did not notice that. They’re so cute.

HIS TINY MINION.

“it really needs a lady’s touch, which is weird because you’re all ladies.” I love her. Lol.

Bless Husker already.

“Maybe.”

LORD.

Kill me now.

*lies on side and hugs Alastor*

HE HAS HOOVES ON THE BOTTOM OF HIS SHOES.

That’s such a nice design detail.

“We are keeping this.”

I CAN’T BREATHE I’M LAUGHING SO HARD.

I remember seeing Alastor x Charlie art when I glanced at the tag and I can see it.

Definitely OT4’ing this nonsense.

MORE SINGING.

I love this aesthetic.

THE SNAKE IS BACK.

(I need to look up his name. I keep missing it. lol.)

Aw.

I’m gonna’ miss him.

(I REALLY LIKED HIM. I brought this on him. My favs always die.)

And it’s over.

Conclusion: I REALLY LIKED It.

Damn. My friend does know me. XD

Edit: I WAS INFORMED THERE WAS AN AFTER CREDITS SCENE.

*watches*

THE SNAKE LIVES.

The show is now perfect. :D

#Hazbin Hotel #Long Post #Mini Review #Well.#Actually it's a Live Blog #but close enough.#Lol.

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fiery-knowledge · 6 years

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Rules

The Basics:

General:

- This is a SIDEBLOG. Thus, if we send anons, they will be tagged along the lines of @fiery-knowledge, @Iggymod, etc. This also means you will not see @fiery-knowledge following you, but my main (which is @fun-sized-owl).

- This blog is semi-selective (I might decline depending on circumstances and mere time/schedule)

- No Godmoding. Please don’t write my character, it takes away the point of me getting to write him.

- Mod is 25+

- This blog is 21+

- No smut with minors!

- Please do not bug me for replies, I have a life outside of RP and tumblr. I also use threadtracker, so I am aware of what I owe. :)

- I only write novella (unless it’s just silly banter threads). Please don’t send one line replies. If that’s your style, then that’s fine, but I have a very difficult time working off them. >:

- I don’t discriminate against formatting and icons (use them as you will!) but walls of text with no paragraphs can be very difficult to read and decipher (I also am severely short sighted and wear glasses at all times. Staring at a screen for a long time and reading can all start to blur, so grammar is important).

- Ignis will not get along with everyone. Please don’t take this as we don’t like you! I’m totally open to rival relationships as well!

- Mod has 10+ years of RP experience

- Vague blogging is a huge no-no. I will unfollow immediately if I see this.

- Please don’t have your muse constantly wanting and begging for attention. Ignis is a man of his duty. It also becomes over exhausting for the mod to deal with time and time again.

- I will not RP with you if you don’t have a muse bio and rules page.

- MUSE =/= MOD.

- DO. NOT. GUILT-TRIP. ME! I’m here to have fun, not feel manipulated.

- I run four different RP blogs, and sometimes I will concentrate on particular muses during a day. Just because I am active on one doesn’t mean I have the muse for a different one. Please be patient with me (mod also has ADHD, I can be very aloof and forgetful at times).

- I don’t mind if you want to turn asks into threads :) Feel free to! I ask that you PLEASE leave my previous reply on your reply so I can remember what is happening in our thread and it stops me from repeating myself ^^;

- All threads that have not been replied to within 3 weeks (21 days) will be dropped without contact unless specified (you’re on hiatus, personal reasons, you have a busy life schedule and routine you stick to, or I have interest in keeping the thread). This is basically just a good way to remove fizzled out threads from my tracker, especially when it comes to partners who are a little less organised than I am (I’m a bit of a neat freak so don’t take that personally! I’m just super finicky :’D).

- OC friendly

- Crossover friendly (so long as previously discussed and I know the universe in some detail). You can always check out my VERSES page if curious.

Headcanons:

- Please respect my headcanons. Being a canon muse, I understand you might have your own headcanons, but that does not mean I have to share them with you (and vice versa). Please do not abuse me or force your headcanons on me. This is my blog to write on and enjoy, and if you wish for your own version of Ignis, then perhaps you should make your own blog so you can write him your way. :)

- In saying that, I do not mind people sharing and reblogging my meta posts and headcanons. If you disagree, please be respectful about it, if you agree, then you’re more than welcome to add your own support. ^^

- Please be aware that my Iggy will have my own unique twist and take on him, as everyone who writes canon muses. I will continue to write him as IC as possible and how he comes to me, but if there are some things you do not like about my version, then please reconsider RPing with us.

- Please don’t come to me with “My headcanon for Ignis is…”. I cannot stress enough how rude this is. I don’t mind if you wish to discuss and plot with me and toss ideas at me, but the Ignis I write is NOT the same Ignis as you will have in your head.

Shipping:

- Ignis will work off chemistry only.

- This blog will contain NSFW themes. I am very comfortable and not shy when it comes to writing smut, but don’t worry, any smutty threads will be put under a read more for your safety (and tagged) :)

- I will NOT write any smut with underage muses or mods!

- I am not exclusive, and Iggy can and will romance others. But please understand that Ignis is a man of duty to his king first. It will take a long time for him to come to terms with any emotional feelings he might have with someone.

- My Ignis is strictly gay, so I will not be shipping with the ladies (sorry!). If you’re uncomfortable with this, then please reconsider rping with us.

- I do not do pre-established relationships (unless heavily discussed beforehand).

- Mod does ship IgNoct, but this won’t mean any automatic ships. I’d still prefer to work off chemistry. :3

- I am 100% comfortable with unreciprocated feelings (on either side), so long as it’s healthy for the mods to work with. :)

- If you’re interested in shipping, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I am much more likely to ship with mods that I am familiar with and get along well with. ^^

Triggers:

- Mod is open to most things, and you needn’t tag anything for me. While I do have certain triggers, they are generally dealt with. However, I will not write paedophilia and certain kinks. Constant depressing muses are incredibly taxing on me as someone who has dealt with depression for long term. I am not here to be someones therapist and will drop threads if this becomes an issue.

- I tag all pretty general triggers with cw: *trigger name* (ex: cw: alcohol, cw: BDSM). If you have a specific trigger, please feel free to let me know so I can tag it for you, however, I will not tag every single thing as it will simply be impossible for me to remember. I will try my best, however!

The Mod:

NAME: Owl, K, Iggymod. AGE: 25+ GENDER: Male SEXUALITY: Queer TIMEZONE: Australian E.S.T. STAR SIGN: Libra MAIN: Fun-Sized-Owl RP STATUS: Always Open LANGUAGE: English / Deutsch (IM)

- Mod does not tolerate drama, please don’t bring it here. I expect to be treated like an adult and with respect. If you have a problem, then please be civil about it.

- Have fun! <3 It’s what we’re here for! :)

- Discord is available to mutuals, however, I do not RP over IMs.

- Mod is a student and has part time work, so I am not always online.

- I apologise if any of my rules seem strict! I’m really a decent dude, I’m just being overly cautious as this is one of my first canon muses in such a long time and I want/need to be clear on my rules. I really hope they don’t deter anyone from interacting with me, but these are purely for my own safety <3 Thank you! Seriously, tho, don’t be shy, I’m generally pretty damn chill!

All art tagged as my art is mine, as is all fics tagged as my fics are mine. Do not repost, use, or claim as your own. If used as icons or something else, please credit back to this blog (will add links in later if I draw/write anything)

Other Blogs:

- I also RP in the Dragon Age community. If you’re interested in my Inquisitor, let me know. :)

Header banner by @lustralium Icons provided by myself, @dryadalismagicae , @ipromptography ,

#Rules #Ebony break || ooc

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daleisgreat · 3 years

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Dale’s Top 31 Gaming Experiences of 2020

Welcome to the 2021 installment for my ranking top gaming moments and experiences of the previous year, regardless of what year the game was released in! Besides ranking my the games themselves, This encompasses all videogame-adjacent experiences aside such as movies, board games, accessories and hardware related items and possibly more! This will be a lengthy read so I suggest right now inputting ‘Ctrl + D’ to bookmark this page, and/or make use of a handy ‘read later’ app like Pocket. This year’s recommended background reading music is a soundtrack I recently got clued into from the MojoMenace community in the form of the score for Mirror’s Edge: Catalyst you can check out by click or pressing here. If you somehow manage to want more of these behemoth reads, than I will point you to my previous year-end recaps here: 2019 - 2018 - 2017 - 2016 To assist with this read, here are some in-article page anchors to instantly jump around to bookmarks on the rankings! CHAPTERS Part 1 – Rankings 31 through 25 Part 2 – Rankings 24 through 18 Part 3 – Rankings 17 through 12 Part 4 – Rankings 11 through 7 Part 5 – Rankings 6 through 4 Part 6 – Rankings 3 through 1 PART 1 – Rankings 31 through 25 31) The Worst Wrestling Game of all Time! For a project I will detail later on I had to relive the abyss of wrestling games that is WCW Nitro on the N64. It is a port of the PSone version, and it was as awful as I remembered first experiencing it two decades prior. If you want to experience broken controls, insufferable slowdown, and a flatout painful experience of a game, then Nitro is where it is at. Instead of playing the games, I will instead opt to link you to this clip of the PSone version because it has these so-bad-it’s-good FMVs of the wrestlers trash talking on the character select screen.

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30) The Remake Frothingly Demanded for Years….Delivered!

I was ecstatic to see the Final Fantasy VII fanbase finally get the modern-gen remake they have been craving for years. I only consider myself a mild fan because I started that game several times, and only progressed shortly past Midgar in my farthest attempt. Through Midgar is what the Remake covers though, and going by all the coverage I have seen, it looks like Square shocked the doubters and nailed it by expanding on that section of the original game with a ton of new content and storylines to flesh out that iconic setting and cast. I played the demo and loved the stunningly overhauled visuals and combat. One day I will play the full game, but for the time being I will be sufficed with my former podcast co-hosts’ cutouts of the cinematics for most of the game. 29) FMV-Camp Returns! A couple years back on a Game Informer stream they jokingly started playing a modern day Sega CD FMV-style choose your own adventure game, Late Shift. It was a throwback to those camply FMV games that dominated the SegaCD. However, this one actually had solid production values and all around acting for an indie release, and the Game Informer crew slowly got into it as it went along. Seeing them navigate through the first chunk of the game inspired me purchase it, and I finally got around to throwing it in this year and is it a breezy game to get through in under three hours. The storyline branches off in all kinds of directions based on your choices, so I played through it twice and got pretty different endings both times in this game that sees an overnight car park clerk getting forced into a heist job against his own will. The developers at Wales Interactive went on to make a couple more games in this FMV style like The Complex, The Shapeshifting Detective and The Bunker, and I feel they are on the right path with how much I got into Late Shift so I wound up putting all three of those other games on my radar!

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28) Hey, Watch me Ollie!

The emotional nostalgia burst that poured down upon me within minutes of firing up Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 1 + 2 was insane. Almost instantly within loading up my first two minute run I could tell the game just felt like how I remembered the awesome PSone game I played to death. Having almost all the memorable songs from the soundtracks of the first two games also incredibly helps. I believe it was intentional on the developers to have the very first song to boot up when playing being “Superman.” This near perfect HD remake/update of the first two games erases the poor attempt done on the 360 and PS3 several years prior. This would have ranked much higher if I had a chance to put more time into this. 27) Unexpected Carnage Following up on last year’s entry where I made the retro purchase of the Jaguar, I had one more session with Atari’s “64-bit” feline with my friend Derek. One Jaguar game I was eager to get some two-player co-op in was with its version of Total Carnage. It was the “bigger and better” sequel to Smash TV, another arcade classic I cherished. Never playing the sequel though I was eager to start it up with Derek, but only upon a few minutes in we realized this was a grave mistake due to the Jaguar port being rough around the edges and only limited continues allowed which resulted in us making very little progress. Before Derek left I remembered I owned Midway Arcade Treasures on the 360, which had Total Carnage in its line-up. We popped that in, and mercifully that fun-yet-brutal version of the game allowed infinite continues and we absolutely capitalized on that option and proceeded to knock out a huge chunk of the game. It mixes up the room-style gameplay of Smash TV and opens it up into levels that scroll up like Ikari Warriors and Mercs, but with that same style of over-the-top action. 26) Unleashing Destruction in the Streets and Rings

At the beginning of the year longtime friend Steve and I had a fun night planned catching a minor league hockey game an hour out of town, but of course a blizzard spoiled that for us by closing the highways. Luckily we had a back-up plan of meeting up for a game night that included marching through the entire tag team championship mode of WWF WrestleFest and all of the arcade version of Final Fight. Steve also had the arcade follow-up to Saturday Night Slam Masters that never received a home release in North America in Ring of Destruction that we tore each other apart in. Finally, I demonstrated FirePro Wrestling World to Steve, and we busted out our vintage favorite football game, ESPN NFL 2K5. It was a hell of a game night, and thank goodness for back-up plans! 25) And the Keighley goes to….

The last few years I have been looking forward more and more to the end-of-the-year videogame award show Geoff Keighley puts on. His annual award showcase keeps improving each year, and has a far lower amount of compromises that the decade’s worth of VGAs on Spike had to endure. Each year Geoff keeps getting closer to that sweet balance of acceptance award speeches, game trailers/reviews and special live performances. He stepped up bigtime this year for not having a crowd in attendance, and I was dreading throughout the show for any one of this virtual award nominees to have an audio or video snafu at any moment, but luckily everything worked out. There were some impressive game reveals too with an intriguing teaser for a new Mass Effect game focusing on the original trilogy characters stealing the show. I have seen a notable contingent criticize Geoff for lack of focus on awards, but it seems almost right where it should be. He tried going all awards the first year he had control, but it was overkill and an insanely long show. Sure, there are spots that can use some tweaking, but for the most part The Game Awards I feel are a worthy end-of-year award show for the industry I have been enjoying for the past several years now. PART 2 – Rankings 24 through 18 24) Online Gaming Therapy The pandemic undeniably made 2020 a rut of a year for everyone. I miss meeting up indoors and hanging out with friends and family as much as the next person. I was able to do some alternate social distancing outdoor meet-ups with friends and family during the summer and fall, but North Dakota’s winter put a halt to that. What has significantly helped has been doing more online gaming than I usually do this year in general. I will cite a few more examples as you read on below, but I want to highlight this so I can be thankful to have a perfectly viable way to still game with friends and family during the pandemic. I have played a lot of Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy! online with my dad and brother this year. I love my game show videogame adaptations, but one quirk I want to point out in the Xbox One version of Jeopardy is that it does not have the option to traditionally input responses, and instead offers three multiple choice responses instead. I would call blasphemy on this, but there has been so many releases of Jeopardy! over the years that it was actually kind of a neat alternative way to play the classic game show……this time! 23) Love for Videogame Coffee Table Books This past year has seen a surge in videogame hardcover tomes that have been an indulgence of mine the past few years. It started with Pat Contri’s “Ultimate Nintendo” line dedicated to reviewing all the games on the NES & SNES. I have Kickstarted two similar anthology books this past year focused on the Dreamcast and Vita. The Dreamcast book is still in production, but I already received the Vita book in the mail, and a quick flip through of it already indicates it is an exhaustive look at the Vita’s library.

There have been a couple other books that are less all-encompassing and focus more on showcasing artwork based on the system with supplemental interviews with developers who worked on it. The two I have on those are based on Sega’s Genesis and Master System consoles. These are perfect coffee table books for friends and family to flip through, and a nice refresher on history to see how others have perceived and rated the games I grew up with. I also took advantage of the recent Humble Bundle charity offering that collected nearly 100 videogame-themed eBooks for around the suggested $35 donation. I need to one day get a viable tablet or eBook reader for all these. Any suggestions? When Pat Contri sent out a tweet last summer seeking additional writers to help with the upcoming N64 book of his Ultimate Nintendo line, I sent in a resume with my credentials and shortly after trading a few emails was welcomed onto the team! It has been a trip and a half revisiting N64 games I have not played in decades or had yet to discover until this project. As of this writing I have at least a couple hundred hours into the N64 games I am covering! That blurb for WCW Nitro to kick this year’s rankings off is just a teaser of what to expect to see in my full review of it in the book. So yeah, this project has been keeping me busy playing a lot of N64 this year, and I cannot wait to see the book in physical form! Be on the lookout on Pat Contri’s online storefront to order the forthcoming N64 book, and to also order the past NES & SNES books! 22) BOOK-SHAKA-LAKA! Reyan Ali’s book I had on pre-order for well over a year about NBA Jam and the creators from Midway did not disappoint. Here is my quick take on it from my Goodreads.com profile review….

NBA Jam by Reyan Ali My rating: 5 of 5 stars I had this book per-ordered for a while. Based on the amount of interviews conducted going into it and combined with it taking four years to compile I had high expectations going in. Ali did not disappoint with a quick, but thorough history on everything that lead up to NBA Jam, its breakthrough success in the arcades, at home and with the NBA players on the road and the many ups and downs with the franchise and publishers at Midway and Acclaim in the years that followed. Interviews from developers and NBA players are featured throughout the book that help paint a picture on every vital aspect of NBA Jam and why it became a hit in arcades and has a lasting impact to this day. The back third of the book touches on the other various iterations of NBA Jam and eventually the downfall of the original creators at Midway. Even being a fan of the game since it first debuted, I came out of this book learning plenty of new facts and insight from the creators and its many fans that I cannot help but give Ali's NBA Jam my highest recommendation. View all my reviews 21) Bite-Sized Gaming

I chose this spot to recognize the smaller indie Xbox One games I would warm up with for about 20-30 minutes before diving into a longer game with. Most, but not all of them were featured on Game Pass. Hyperdot was an intense little puzzler that I was really into until my reflexes were not fast enough for the later stages to keep the dot alive by avoiding all kind of spherical traffic before time expired. Ping Redux tested my billiards/geometry skills in order to get a pixel from one end of the level to the end. Clustertruck I once again put way too much time into this year, but THIS year I felt like I made legitimate progress on my truck platforming skills and have made it into final world of stages and cleared all the bonus winter and Halloween stages! It is addicting and frustrating in all the right ways! Definitely do not skip past this one on Game Pass!

Top Run is the first runner I invested serious time into since Jetpack Joyride. I would say it is still a few notches below that classic runner though because the grind for unlocks here is a bit much, but the neon pixel graphics and head-bopping 80s-synth score keeps me coming back! Finally, Night Call is a fascinating narrative mystery game where you are a taxi driver forced into undercover work to track down suspects for the police by using casual passenger chit-chat as a cover for interrogation. Very cool art style, and diverse range of quirky, deep, mysterious and alarming passengers had me revisiting more for the engaging dialogue and narration choices more than the mystery at large. 20) Hadoken 2020 Welcome to the fighting game section of the rankings, well save for but one other game I shall touch on later. As usual, I played a ton of online fighting games with my longtime online fighting buddy, Chris. We revisited a couple classics in 2020 that we ignored for far too long since our last go around in Tekken 7 and Soul Calibur VI, and it was a lot of fun trying out the season DLC passes for those games I completely forgot I purchased. Both Namco joints are a blast, and I regret not playing more of them during this generation. I got a chance to briefly dabble with a few SNK vintage re-releases in the King of Fighters and Samurai Shodown franchises courtesy of many physical releases from Limited Run Games. I need to make more time to come back to these gems!!! Retro Fighters is an online game accessory company I associate with their specialty retro fight pads, and I got a handful of them this past year-ish for Genesis, Dreamcast and Nintendo 64. I found myself a big fan of all three pads, especially the N64 pad now having a more traditional two-grip feel instead of its….unique…three grip setup from Nintendo. If you are unfamiliar with these guys, definitely give their website a perusal for some excellent retro controllers!

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Finally, I want to shout out Street Fighter V receiving its last major update in 2020, the “Champion Edition” that launched its final season of DLC, and saved me a lot of time grinding for in-game currency to unlock all past and future DLC characters and stages! Only had a chance to go to SFV a handful of times in 2020, but they were memorable sessions, and caught on video too! I keep neglecting PS4’s share video and editing software and finally took advantage of it by uploading one of my battles with Chris on my YouTube channel you can check out by click or pressing here. Another night I got together with a bunch of the fine folks from the MojoMenace/SupertheHardest podcast community for an epic SFV night and even though there were a couple of well-tuned SFV vets on there that dominated, we all still had a blast that evening! 19) Driving Games 2020

2020 was a weaker year for variety of racing games played compared to previous years. There were a couple smaller indie games that were part of my rotation with the nearly graphically blinding Music Racer that turns driving into a musical rhythm game and I miraculously did not endure a seizure with. The awesome Outrun-homage, Horizon Chase Turbo, received continued scattered play from me throughout the year. Super Night Riders is a fun little tribute to Hang-On which I nearly 100% its small slate of courses with the exception of a final endurance track which combines all the tracks in one continuous run and if a few collisions are made it is thus impossible to recover from. I revisited that last race far too frequently before ultimately taking a break from it. Rock ‘n Racing DX was a game I repeatedly saw for sale nearly every week on digital stores, but I was weary with it looking like a watered down version of Super Off Road. After finally chancing it off a $2 sale I can now confirm it is a bad controlling version of Super Off Road everyone should avoid and its muted beats definitely do not rock. V-Rally 4 was a free Xbox Games for Gold in 2020 that I had a blast tearing up the virtual dirt tracks with in this rally-sim! Monster Truck racing games continued with the latest Monster Jam game, Steel Titans. Still not a five star driving game by any means, but nowhere near as buggy and a big step-up from Crush It, which I will give credit to experienced driving game developer, Rainbow Studios now being behind the series.

Retrowave on Steam hit all the guilty pleasure 80s neon visuals and synth-wave musical vibes I am a fan of, but its slot/timing based gameplay did not gel with me. I put a little time into Sega Ages branded update of Virtua Racing on Switch. This is easily the best Virtua Racing has ever played and looked, and M2 implemented a slew of quality-of-life features to make this the definitive version of the game. Hot Shots Racing I played a few times off Xbox Game Pass and it tries to capture the early polygonal look and feel of Virtua Racing. Very nice homage that all Virtua Racing fans should seek out! I also played many hours of six N64 racing games for the forthcoming Ultimate Nintendo book so be on the lookout for that with my reviews for both Top Gear Rally games, Top Gear Overdrive, Re-Volt, Rally Challenge 2000 and Big Mountain 2000.

Finally, the racing game I put the most time into in 2020 once again is Wreckfest. I continue to be impresses with developer Bugbear’s support for this title. In 2020 they launched a second season pass that they are still releasing new vehicle add-ons for as of this writing. They also introduced a new Tournament mode that has constantly updated Daily, Weekly and Monthly challenges that earn its own exclusive currency to be used for unlockable cars available across all modes with that accrued currency. The challenges have been fun and have a variety of wacky themes like winter season races going on right now, and options that have lawnmower vehicles launching killer snowballs. My brother and I have been regularly playing it online once or twice a month for the better part of 2020. A feature I find myself taking advantage more for racing games on Xbox One is using the Spotify app for custom soundtracks. I briefly dabbled with it before, but upon discovering the NFSsoundtracks website I have been using it a whole lot more. That website scours YouTube to recreate a plethora of past driving game soundtracks going back to the 8 and 16-bit eras. If a game has a licensed soundtrack, they will comprise a Spotify playlist of all the licensed songs that are available from that soundtrack on Spotify. So far I would say about 75% of each soundtrack is represented on Spotify, and it has helped exponentially reliving favorite scores from Road Rash, Demolition Racer and Burnout Revenge in modern racing games. 18) Retro Game Writing Frenzy

I doubled down on the amount of “Flashback Specials” I produced in 2020 where I celebrate systems on their milestone anniversaries by recapping my favorite games and memories of certain consoles. Some of them were mini-specials where I only had a limited experience with certain systems like the Saturn, PSP and Neo-Geo, while others were for systems I had well over a decade of hands-on experience with and thus many tales to recount which resulted in exhaustive pieces for the NES, PSone, PS2 and Xbox 360. That 360 piece especially did a number on me and went way longer than I anticipated…but I had a lot to say :D 2021 will see a lot of platforms having milestone anniversaries of their American launch, and I doubt I will have time to get to them all, at least with how I have been covering most of them in detail anyways. Part of the fun I have with these specials is busting out each retro system and hooking up and replaying several of my favorites to see if they stand the test of time like Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out!! and The Punisher on NES, or to spend some time on lost treasures I picked up and barely put anytime into like CastleVania: Rondo of Blood on PSP and both Rad Racer games on NES. Regardless, if you have been sticking with me through these endless pieces, than please accept my many thanks for indulging my memories and stories of my gaming past! PART 3 – Rankings 17 through 12 17) Shmuppreciation 2020

I was honored to curate the selection again for the annual “Shmuppreciation” celebration for the mojomenace.com community! Previous years saw me pick a different shmup each week to scorechase on for the NES and SNES, and for 2020 I thought I lined up things perfectly by picking five shmups (AKA shooters/space shooters) that were all going to be available on the TurboGrafX-Mini that was set to release in mid-March. Well, on March 11th the pandemic was officially declared, and it was already in full effect in Asia by that point where production of the TG16-Mini was scheduled so it was no surprise to see the announcement of a delay for a few months on the mini console. That did not deter the MojoMenace community however and we plugged away with our scheduled lineup. Some of the 2020 lineup I own and have an alright amount of experience with like Blazing Lazers. Others I had little to no experience with like Lords of Thunder, Super Star Solider and Soldier Blade. The surprise hit of the 2020 selections for me was Galaga ‘88/’90. I played my fair share of traditional Galaga over the years and always heard of the TG16 version, but never played it, and it amped up the traditional Galaga gameplay and graphics just enough to make it stand side-by-side with its equals of the day! It was gratifying to see it be a hit with the community and receive the most entries of all the 2020 lineup. 16) A Long Awaited Fourth Rage in the Streets

I have so much nostalgia of the original Streets of Rage trilogy. It was an unexpected surprise to find it available on Game Pass on its day one release. I put about four hours into that game over its first two days, and absolutely treasure those two days with it as I felt my skills organically improving as I picked up on combos and enemy hit patterns. The new graphic style felt like it capture the essence of its past while successfully evolving it to modern day 2D tech standards, and the same can be said for the all-new original soundtrack that lived up to the high pedigree established in the first two games, and then some! I wound up picking up the vinyl for it, and the soundtrack has been in heavy rotation in my playlists ever since. The only downside is after those first two days of playing it, I took a week off before revisiting and almost instantly found myself losing a few steps from where I last left off. It was then I realized if I desire to beat this game, I have to essentially dedicate a couple of days solely to it to where I can “get good” at it and plow through it in a sitting or two. I guess I can tone it down to easy, and if it was not a Streets of Rage game I probably would, but the thing is with how I am playing so far, yeah the game can get tough on the normal default difficulty, but it is a fair challenge, one that nails that delicate balance where I know dedicated practice will pay off in the long run. In the end, that is how I want my Streets of Rage 4 experience to be! 15) Ryo’s Rally Cry

Last year Shenmue III fulfilled my 18-year long anticipation for the latest adventures featuring Ryo Hazuki. In 2020, a series of three DLC packs were unleashed in the early months of the year. I was not expecting anything too extravagant because all three packs were bundled together for $9.99, and compared to season pass story based content in other games that typically go for double-to-triple that, I had a feeling it was going to be more mini-games than anything, and that is essentially what we got. The first DLC focused on Bailu Village with several treasure hunt mini-games hunting down tiny Bailu Chan collectibles, which was no fun at all, and after the first treasure hunt zone I referenced a YouTube video to blitz through the rest. They were worth going through because they unlocked stat boosts for Ryo to use in the several Battle Rally races that gave a final score based on time completed and number of enemies beaten throughout it. Those stat boosts made Ryo faster and stronger, so it was worthwhile to knockout more foes before the finish line, and that part of the DLC proved to be a fun type of challenge. The second DLC was a cruise ship full of casino-themed mini-games and a couple small story quests. To activate it was tricky because you needed to make about 15 minutes of progress in the second half of the game. Luckily, a new game can be started from the back half. The casino games are decent little distractions, and the only highlight of the ship was earning raffle tickets to use on a prize wheel used to unlock several extra slick costumes for Ryo.

The final DLC was a story DLC that is sprinkled throughout the back half of the game. It is a bit of a chore though, and nothing extraordinary. If you remember the Chan signs that use four tea cups arranged in certain patterns, then be prepared for a series of those quests that are only available after completing a few main story missions. It is mostly a lot of backtracking to find a rogue agent, and only leads to a couple simple fights, and the only interesting thing I got out of it was for one part of the several-part series of quests you go undercover on a dinner date with Shenhua with some intentionally campy lines. I would only recommend playing it if you were playing through Shenmue III for the first time and that way the quests seem like an organic series of side quests you stumbled across, because by the time the last part of this DLC was available, I already replayed my way through about 75% of the second half of the main quest that transpires in Niaowu. If you are wondering why Shenmue III is ranking a fair way into my rankings with my middling time with the DLC, well that is because of the astounding Shenmue III-themed releases I picked up from Limited Run Games in 2020. A few months back Limited Run had what felt like a Shenmue appreciation day and released a special edition of the game with all the lackluster DLC on the disc, in addition to bonus collectibles that I usually do not go for, but in this rare exception did. They also put out some absurdly priced vinyl options of the soundtrack. Shenmue III has a mammoth soundtrack, so big it took seven CDs and eight vinyls to cram it in. To get the complete vinyl set, it was for around $200-250, so I opted for the CD set for $50 and a special “best of” two record set for $40. Yeah….did not anticipate blowing nearly the price for a Switch on Shenmue merchandise in one day, but I managed to cut myself off before going too nuts. 14) Vinyl Love 2020 Speaking of that Shenmue III vinyl, this will be a good way to pivot to rank the videogame OST vinyls I procured over 2020. Data Disc released their curated Shenmue II record. It is like the one Data Disc put out for the first game in the series which is a hand-picked selection of songs on one LP. I recently listened to it, and at least Data Disc ensured to maximize their minutes with their selections. Data Disc also did a second printing of another Yu Suzuki classic with the OST for Outrun. Other highlights include a complete set of five records of the Tetris Effect OST from Limited Run Games. Many kudos to Limited Run for including an MP3 download code with their records, and it was much appreciated for that set, and as well for their Streets of Rage 4 score. I have heard mixed reception for the SoR4 OST living up to the lofty bar established from the first two games, but after listening to it many times on my record player and in my car, I can attest for it being a win in the series and is right up there with the first two games. I will give a couple last quick shout outs for the OSTs for The King of Fighters ‘98, Street Fighter III, Quake, Celeste B-Sides and Kentucky Route Zero comprising the remaining LPs I picked up throughout 2020. To this day I continue working out to DDP Yoga 3-4 times a week, and having one of the game vinyls on in the background is the ideal background jams for me while I stretch myself to pieces! 13) Pinball 2020 Longtime readers are familiar with ritual weekly habit of competing in the four table weekly high score challenges in Pinball FX3, and yes I am still continuing that tradition every Saturday morning where I will practice and rank up abilities on one of the four tables that is up in the weekly challenges, and then attempt to best the high score for each of the four tables. It never gets old, and it helps feed my pinball addictions. Props to Zen for their output of Williams tables, and I am about 50/50 for using their “remastered” versions with animated toys and additional graphics on the table, and appreciate the option to press a button to flip to the original design. I still popped in Pinball Arcade on PS4 several times throughout 2020 because I feel those are more accurate-feeling real life physics of those pinball tables, but Zen’s versions are a solid alternative. Plus they added one of my favorite tables, Champion Pub, to the PFX3 roster in 2020, now just give me No Good Gophers and I will rest happy!

In other pinball news, I also continue to throw in the rotation Demon’s Tilt, the awesome homage to Devil’s Crush/Dragon’s Revenge. I cannot get enough of those scintillating TG16 throwback visuals and its metal soundtrack! I only threw in the neon-infused visuals of Hyperspace Pinball off Steam a few times in 2020, and I just wish that game took off more and received some home console conversions. Love the bumpin’ soundtrack, trippy graphics and distinctive boss battles that keep me coming back to it. I need to one day dive into recent pinball/platformer hybrids Yoku’s Island Express and Creature in the Well. I briefly tried out the former, and yet to put time into the latter. Finally, in sad pinball news, the private pinball club I started going to I wrote about in last year’s recap, Fargo Pinball shut its doors last year after failing to sustain business a few months into the pandemic. The owners will still operate about a dozen machines they have on constant rotation at a local brewery however, so there is still somewhat of a local pinball presence to take in. For the two or three times I made it out to Fargo Pinball however, I was in pinball heaven. 12) Handheld Gaming 2020

Last year I wrote about in this section how I made serious headway into Mother 3 on the GBA by the end of 2019. So the first few months I spent wrapping up Mother 3 on my backlit-modded GBA. So that meant I beat it legit with no save states, and a lot of trial and error on boss battles. The only part I did not care for was an underwater maze to navigate through while keeping an eye on oxygen levels, but otherwise I very much enjoyed my time with Mother 3, and mad props to Fangamer’s companion guide for being the quintessential supplemental material to guide me through it. After finishing that, I put a couple hours into the Metroid-esque Scurge: Hive on GBA before throwing in another throwback in the form of GameBoy Color’s Turok 2: Seeds of Evil. A year or two back here I wrote how the first Turok on GameBoy was an old-school style action-platformer that won me over, and the sequel is more of the same, but with slightly more fleshed out levels, now color graphics, and a couple interesting shmup stages for variety! It had some old-school difficulty, so the Retron 5’s save states and cheats and I had to take advantage of in order to power through it!

Currently, I am ever-so-slowly working my way through a fan translated copy of Ace Attorney Investigations 2 on DS. I loved the first game in the series and how they mixed up the gameplay by taking it out of the courtroom and having visual avatars to control and visually maneuver around locations. I am currently on the third case of AAI2, and the translation successfully maintains the whimsical spirit of the Ace Attorney series and has an interesting twist where Miles is now having to side with defense attorneys against his will. I picked up two unique re-released retro handhelds this past year. Firstly, I picked up the Mario Game & Watch that was released to celebrate Super Mario Bros.’s 35th anniversary. Super Mario Bros. is the first game I ever played, and first game I ever finished so it goes without saying that game is quite special to me and having it in this unique handheld form is a saccharine treat! The second old school handheld I had to import from Japan in the form of the Game Gear Micro. For those unaware of this Japan-exclusive, it is a working Game Gear about 10% the proportion of the original model. Sega only made several versions of it in Japan, with each one having only a handful of exclusive games. I went with the one containing the Aleste collection that contains five Game Gear/Master System games in the acclaimed space shooter series, one of which is an all-new game designed with the Game Gear’s limitations in mind in GG Aleste 3. My cramped fingers were somewhat able to play the games on the Micro (make sure to get the magnifier accessory in order marginally make out the visuals), and it is a nice discussion piece, but I think I will put more time into these games in the future with the PS4 copy of Aleste Collection that came with the bundle I ordered from Play Asia. PART 4 – Rankings 11 through 7 11) Podcast Guest Hosting 2020 I guest hosted on three podcasts in 2020. I had what ended up being my final recurring guest slot on the penultimate episode of Your Parents Basement podcast. It was my 13th guest host appearance there, but I made sure to make it a clayyyysic one with our analysis for the dubious action-sports SNES title, Bill Laimbeer’s Combat Basketball. I remember going into that episode initially tepid to start off our discussion for the game by admitting I could not figure out how to shoot the damn ball and had to look up a guide online how to figure it out, but was quickly relieved to hear all three YPB hosts had to do exactly the same! Also, there were some regular segments of the show where we all rate the game on a themed where entertaining shenanigans ensued. YPB has since posted one surprise end of year special since having their main series finale, and here is hoping to see them pop in again for more surprise episodes. I will be forever grateful to them for taking my suggestions at covering games I have been meaning to get out of my backlog for ages like Shadowrun, Metal Gear Solid, Crystalis and Earthbound. Click or press here to check out that YPB episode I guested on in 2020.

I was thrilled to guest host twice on the PSnation Podcast in 2020. While it is a Playstation themed podcast, host Glenn always specializes with healthy doses of retro gaming talk in each episode. In March I joined him in covering the FFVII Remake demo that just hit, and we of course had to inject a ton of retro gaming topics in the agenda too (click or press here to download). In November I came on again to anticipate the future by previewing the imminent launch of the PS5 and celebrate the past by dissecting 20 forgotten facts of the PS2 for its 20th anniversary (click or press here to download). While both podcasts were marathon recording sessions, I do not regret a minute of it as I always have a phenomenal time podcasting with Glenn! He recently announced they will be rebranding PSnation with news to come in the near future after a hell of a 14-year run, and I wish nothing but the best for him and his staff to see what they have in store! On a final note in podcasts, I have been continuing my occasional un-vaulting of select episodes from my long-deceased videogame podcast, On Tap. Throughout 2020, I uploaded about an episode a month to my YouTube channel, often having them coincide with a relevant anniversary or one of my flashback special articles. Some of the ones I uploaded this past year are all several parts of our history of comic book videogames episodes and most of our history of RPG videogames episodes. Also a couple of our movie review episodes where we analyze cult classics like The Wizard, FFVII: Advent Children Complete, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World and both Tron films. I made a playlist of the 28 episodes I have un-vaulted as of this writing you can navigate to by click or pressing here. 10) Switching It Up

In early April of 2020, I had penned in a pretty epic vacation I was anticipating for quite some time, but as we all know, by April of 2020 we were a few weeks into the pandemic and those plans quickly went up in smoke along with everything else in the world. It may have been a good thing those plans got cancelled because that same weekend a water pipe burst at my home and that whole weekend was spent cleaning up the aftermath of it. It was a couple days after the fact of that ordeal and I was simply a mess, and needed some form of a pick-me-up. I was holding off on a Switch for three years by this point, and three years was about what I held off on purchasing a Wii U, PS4 and Xbox One, and so I convinced myself to get out of my slump by going out and buying a Switch. It helped big time! The first games I played on it were a couple of different SNES games I played online with my nephew Carter. We first played the original Super Mario Kart, and within seconds of starting a race he blurted out, “Dale this looks old!” He was not a happy camper, but we did manage to have a modicum of fun playing two player co-op in Brawl Brothers and Joe & Mac. Other notable Switch games I put some time into this year are Golf Story, Sega Ages Virtua Racing, Tetris 99 and Super Mario Bros. 35. I love battle royal Tetris and Super Mario Bros.! Golf Story is the ultimate spiritual successor to the beloved Mario Golf games on GBC and GBA. Also, I highly recommend playing with a pro controller in docked mode, and with Hori’s Split Pad Pro in undocked mode. Despite its bulk, I vaster prefer them more than the painfully tiny JoyCons. In 2021 I hope to invest significantly more time into my Switch! I have picked up many retro re-releases recently with their frequent sales that I must try out! 9) Wrestling Games 2020

2020 was a year like no other for me when it came to wrestling games. The first half of the year started off with me only playing FirePro Wrestling World, the first new wrestling game I put serious time into since WWE All-Stars. I played quite a bit of the PS2 and GBA FirePro games, but the thing that hooked me on the PS4 version was downloading hundreds of created wrestlers to replicate my all-era dream roster, and clearing all 50 scenario trials. I got up to the final trial where the goal is to win a match with a 100% fan approval rating. Thing is, in order to replicate, the opponent has to get in just as much offense and back-and-forth near-falls to make it as exciting as a televised match, and by doing that I put myself at great risk to lose…which happened every time. I vow to complete that final trial in 2021! Speaking of WWE All-Stars, I volunteered to review its spiritual successor follow-up, WWE 2K Battlegrounds for my friends over at PSnation. While it has some notable flaws holding it back from matching the fun arcade action of WWE All-Stars, 2K Battlegrounds still has a lot going for it and is at least worth checking out. Click or press here for my full review to get my complete breakdown of WWE 2K Battlegrounds. Finally, as I have mentioned earlier I have been covering a number of wrestling titles for the upcoming N64 book project. As you read above, it was a whole new definition of pain experiencing WCW Nitro all over again, but at least other games held up better than I thought they would. I finally was able to put major time into the four import N64 wrestling games and came out of those with a whole new appreciation of this era of wrestling games. Seriously, AKI’s six wrestling games on the N64 are arguably the best spread of wrestling games in videogame history, and I wish I can expand on it more, but you’ll have to check out the book once it is available for my final word! I promise if you bookmark this page I will edit this page with a link to its online store listing once it is available! 8) Breath of the Wild Progress 2020 Another year gone, and another year where I have yet to finish The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. I have good reasons though! I was making headway steady play a couple times a month until about July. I finally conquered the fourth divine beast, and more importantly I finally reached all the towers and unlocked the complete map. I also moseyed around most areas of the map, even the barren Gerudo Desert, I spent a good chunk of this year in to ensure I did not skimp over any cool hidden areas, or Korok seeds…although I am sure I missed quite a few. A major nagging sidequest I put to bed in 2020 was completing the founding of Tarrey Town for Hudson after running countless fetch quests for Link’s former colleague.

The only major thing in the core storyline I need to do is finally make my way through Hyrule Castle to vanquish Ganon….but I have so many other side quests and DLC quests I desire to finish before properly completing the main quest! I made one attempt at completing the Master Sword Trials that have the beneficial reward of doubling the power and durability of the Master Sword, and while it was a brutal endeavor, the challenge felt fair and encouraging of me to put forth the effort to practice and become better like on Eventide Island! I would also like to unlock the Master Cycle Zero for Link, but that set of DLC missions is mammoth, and if I do get around to them, it would likely be after I finish the main quest. Anyways, I was making that routine headway and finishing BotW in 2020 seemed possible, but then I had to step back and put most of my spare game time onto my N64 assignments. I should wrap up my N64 work within the next few months, and plan on diving head-first to pick up where I left off in Breath of the Wild! That motorcycle shall be mine!!! 7) Year of the Mini Consoles I thought I was done buying the “mini” line of classic consoles with pre-programmed games by the end of 2019 after acquiring the Genesis Mini that went along with my NES and SNES Minis! That was not the case though as 2020 saw me add three more to my collection. The Neo-Geo Mini has been out for some time now, but Amazon had huge markdowns on them in 2020 with bundled controllers. For those unfamiliar with it, the unit is designed as a mini-arcade cabinet, but also has ability to plug into a TV via HDMI cable to play the pre-programmed 40 games that way too. It has all the many expected fighting games on there, plus a variety of other genre hits from SNK. I also picked up the Game Gear Micro, but you can see my thoughts on that a few rankings above where I go over my handheld gaming moments of the year.

Finally, I picked up the TurboGrafX Mini, which had to endure a last minute shipping delay by a few months since it was originally scheduled to ship in March right after the pandemic was declared. It is a hell of a collection, with a killer line up of American and Japanese games. Part of me was wishing there was an easter egg to unlock the English translated Sega CD version of Snatcher, but no luck! There is still an unbelievable lineup on here with two Bonk games, Castlevania: Rondo of Blood, several classic shmups like Blazing Lazers and Galaga ‘88/’90, one of the Crush pinball games, and so many more! There was a couple I wish would have made the cut like World Court Tennis and Final Lap Twin because of their charming RPG story modes, and at least one of the FirePro Wrestling games, but what is included is still a hell of a package, complete with probably the best UI of any of the mini-consoles that is overflowing with TurboGrafX/PCengine fan service! So many people in America missed out on the small-yet-mighty TG16 library in America, and this is the best way to be introduced to it to the public! CGQ did an awesome launch stream that has footage of most of the included games if you want to know more about the platform!

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PART 5 – Rankings 6 through 4 6) The Year of Videogame Documentaries! If there was any upside to all the time spent locked down at home in 2020, it was that it helped everyone catch up on a lot of past and current shows on various streaming services or old school physical media. 2020 saw several videogame themed documentaries release, and not a single one disappointed which is why I am ranking this experience so high. Netflix released a six episode docu-series on pivotal moments in the early decades of videogames, titled High Score. It does not shed much new insights if you are up-to-speed on your videogame history, but if you only have a passing familiarity with the roots of videogames, or have younger members of the family who are curious than this is a good place to start because they have high production values, and fun animated sequences to keep your attention throughout. It does not cover the entire history of games in six episodes, but each episode serves as a nice refresher course on key moments like the rise and fall of Atari, Nintendo revitalizing videogames in America with the NES, the 16-bit Wars, popularity of fighting games in the early 90s, and id Software shaking up the gaming landscape with Wolfenstein 3D and Doom. Next up is videogame YouTuber (and heading up the N64 book I am contributing to) Pat Contri teaming up with Kevin J. James for the documentary, Not for Resale. It has an interesting theme about life as an independent videogame store owner and retro game collecting. It thoroughly covers a wide range of topics from this perspective of videogame retail, and I encourage you to check out my review of the documentary by click or pressing here. Another documentary I reviewed in 2020 for my blog actually first released in 2015, but I somehow never heard of it until 2020. I am talking about Nintendo Quest, and it is all about one man’s journey to collect the entire officially licensed American NES library in one month with only his own funds, and only by visiting stores and collectors in person with no online buying at all. It was quite the ambitious goal, and was a fun journey to watch to see if he could or could not pull it off. Click or press here for my full review.

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Next up is Console Wars. I devoured Blake Harris’s novelization of the 16-bit SNES/Genesis rivalry, and was stoked to hear it was going to receive the big budget feature documentary treatment. It took a few years, but it finally released in 2020 as a CBS All Access streaming exclusive. There is no shortage of vintage photos, ads, clips and commercials inserted throughout the interviews and narration that transported me directly back to the early-to-mid 90s! They could not squeeze in everything from the book into 90 minutes, but they still managed to hit a lot of major and minor moments from the 16-bit wars. Despite this being well-documented territory, this was a terrific refresher, and recommended viewing considering the surplus of major and minor players from that era they tracked down to interview. Insert Coin is an exclusive on Alamo’s streaming service, and is the ultimate supplementary piece to Reyan Ali’s book on NBA Jam I mentioned earlier in this list. If you do not have time for the book, make sure to watch this because they track down most of the major players at Midway/Bally/Williams to chronicle the rise and fall of the company, and touch on so many of its arcade hits. Yes, even Revolution X gets an entertaining scene with previously unseen production footage of band members’ voiceover recording sessions. I loved Cruis ‘n USA, and was a little bummed to see the ho-hum treatment of it in the doc, but if you have killer memories of the NBA Jam, Mortal Kombat, Defender, NFL Blitz, Smash TV and so many other Midway arcade classics, then you definitely want to check out Insert Coin! Pretending I’m a Superman: The Tony Hawk Videogame Story is available to buy or rent off YouTube. I have heard many good things about this doc, but I have sadly been neglecting it for many months, which is not right since I was an avid fan of the Tony Hawk games from their heyday, but want to give it props here because I have good faith that it will not disappoint!

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That is it for the traditional documentary features I have seen in 2020. For the past couple years I have provided a long list of YouTube links of my favorite gaming-related videos throughout the year. In place of that is a few documentaries I want to highlight here that hit in 2020 from a few YouTube creators. Norm Caruso, AKA The Videogame Historian did not disappoint in 2020 with several new docs/mini-docs, with the two that stood out the most to me being his exhaustive deep dive into Mario Paint and tracking down the original developer to interview for his look on the infamous MS-DOS versions of the early Mega Man games. I also am constantly amazed at the steady stream of shorter and lengthier documentaries No Clip releases on their YouTube channel, and the crapshoot that was 2020 did not slowdown their consistent output. I highly recommend their well-researched videos on the history of two prolific developers – Creative Assembly and Arkane Studios. EA received well earned high marks on their incredible remaster of Command & Conquer early in 2020, and No Clip released a coinciding video with many of the original and remaster developers on un-vaulting original material and digging deep to cram in as much unreleased or barely seen content in as possible.

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If you were a child from the mid-80s to the mid-90s, then you undoubtedly remember spending countless hours in school trying to master the original “souls-like” game, Oregon Trail. MinnMax released a comprehensive look at this classroom favorite filled with interview clips from the original programmers on how it came to be, and even tracking down Steve Wozniak for his reflections on this iconic title. Finally, I want to shout out this awesome DIY-spirited documentary celebrating NHL ‘94 that came out in 2020 and went to great lengths to pay homage to that classic hockey game by tracking down the primary head programmer, going to great pains for a very brief interaction with Jaromir Jagr and chronicling the current eSports scene of NHL ‘94.

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Sorry for the deluge of recommendations, but that should provide many hours of entertainment and videogame history to last you throughout 2021, and then some! 5) Acquiring my First Console Near Launch Since the Vita! The headline does not lie, the Xbox Series X marked the first console I purchased within the first couple months of a console launch since the Vita! After getting burned on launch window consoles malfunctioning on me with the PS2, 360 and PS3 I instilled a “wait three years after a console launch to buy it so the hardware is likely less faulty” self-imposed policy. I did exactly that with the WiiU, PS4, Xbox One and Switch. I was originally going to do that with the XSX/PS5 also, and I guess the thing that nudged me out of that edict was hearing multiple podcasts, website hardware reviews and YouTube content creators’ analysis of the system’s hardware, UI and overall performance in the opening weeks. The more I heard in the first couple weeks, the more the Xbox Series X sounded right for me. This is primarily because the UI/dashboard is nearly identical compared to the Xbox One, and that I can plug in my external hard drive I have been using for the Xbox One directly into the XSX after I complete my initial setup. After doing that it would be like I was playing on my Xbox One again, but with vastly superior hardware and faster loading times. I got a Samsung 55” Black Friday 4KTV special to finally upgrade into the 4K era and be properly ready for the 4K optimized games. My backlog was so huge that I did not mind the XSX did not have any major first or third party exclusives until two and half months later with the release of The Medium. Enjoying faster load times on games like Wreckfest and Borderlands 3 is more impressive than I thought it would be. I am also by this point well invested into the Xbox Game Pass ecosystem as I have elaborated on in previous year-end articles, and having all first party exclusives coming to Game Pass day one is another deciding factor on why I went with the Xbox Series X first. Now here is hoping this system does not brick on me or I am returning back to my self-enforced waiting policy! 4) Conquering the Lands that Border a Third Time!

Speaking of Borderlands 3, that was a terrific alternate method for me to hang out with my buddy Derek through these quarantine times. Several years back we gradually worked our way through Borderlands 2 over the course of a year, and we started up the third game around Halloween of 2019. It took a little over a year of playing only once or twice a month, but we finally finished the core campaign of Borderlands 3! Most of the gaming press bags on the Borderlands games for its style of humor, but to me it kind of rings familiar to Family Guy. Both franchises throw a lot of gags and jokes at you from all angles, and some of them hit, and some of them miss, and that is fine! Humor is subjective with about half of the jokes jiving with me, and that is A-OK because they all do not need to be LMAO zingers! The addicting co-op gameplay of Borderlands is what keeps me coming back, well that and the perpetual quest of finding all types of fun weaponry and loot I had equipped for far too long (rainbow-explosion grenades being my prime example here). I like the angle of Borderlands 3’s central hub being on a spaceship…even if its design is of the labyrinth nature that I frequently became lost in. The biofuel truck mission was an early favorite of mine and remained a running gag with Derek throughout 2020. The pair of primary antagonists here may not usurp the unforgettable villain that was Handsome Jack, but it was still a fun journey pursuing them and meeting their dad to detail their nature. Right now Derek and I are a good ways through one of the DLC packs for the game, Guns, Love, and Tentacles that is themed around saving the wedding of Wainwright & Hammerlock with the assistance of the mysterious bartender, Mancubus Bloodtooth! It features a refreshing twist on gameplay with longer levels, different vibe of scenery and a more challenging-but-fair difficulty. Needless to say, I am greatly looking forward to marching through the rest of the DLC packs throughout 2021! PART 6 – Rankings 3 through 1 3) Spooky Gaming 2020

You will see soon why my yearly installment for Spooky Gaming ranked so high this year. First off, I kept up my yearly tradition of playing the 360 launch game, Condemned: Criminal Origins on Halloween! I think that is at least three, maybe four Halloweens in a row now! Only made a little over an hour of progress though on a couple sessions due to not as much free time as I hoped and it took a bit more than I presumed to navigate through a couple tricky levels, but I pushed through a couple more chapters and one day promise to finish this! Two new spooky games released right around this past Halloween that were both must-buys for me, but regrettably have yet to start. Pumpkin Jack looked like a fun simple action-platformer with graphics and gameplay quality intentionally designed from the early PS2 days which looked like a fun early 2000s throwback from a couple streams I saw. The second game is the next installment in the “Dark Pictures” anthology, following 2019’s Man of Medan that received a rave recounting from my 2019 rankings! That game is called Little Hope and it has a similar structure to Man of Medan, where it follows a group of travelers stranded after a bus crash who stumble into a nearby mysterious/haunted small town that is full of secrets. I watched one stream of its opening scenes, and was delighted to see the narrative choice-based gameplay returns and will determine how many of the group members will remain alive by the end of the playthrough. I want to play this like I did Man of Medan in one sitting in an evening with Derek & Brooke in the midst of a thunderstorm! That will happen in 2021!!

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Finally, the highlight of spooky gaming season was surprisingly returning to Xbox One’s Blair Witch Project. I wrote here last year that I loved its atmospheric setting of looking through the same haunted woods from the movies for a lost child, but I unfortunately got stuck about an hour or two in while searching through the woods for my next objective. The woods were too dark!!! So this past Halloween season I booted up Blair Witch Project with the mindset of not even looking to make any progress and to simply put on the gaming headphones and take in that appropriately dark atmosphere of exploring the spooky woods for about 10 minutes before moving onto Condemned.

Well, something unexpected happened during those 10 minutes and I accidentally stumbled onto my next objective and quickly got absorbed into the narrative and could not put the game down! I loved how the character Ellis gradually starts to get wrapped up into the eventual supernatural surroundings that gradually get implemented and do not ruin that awesome initial eerie setting. The way the camcorder was used for gameplay to solve some puzzles was creative, and using the late-90s Nokia-esque cell phone for storyline bits was an unexpected nostalgia trip. Yeah, some of the use of flashbacks/supernatural enemies can be a little hokey at points, but for the most part it keeps up the suspense and thrills, and it caught me jumping on several occasions while playing with the volume blasting on those headphones. The last level pulls out all the scary, mind-bending stops, and was a ride that I had no idea when it was going to end, and even though the ending was a little middling, the ride on the way to that final destination was awesome and had me gripped in throughout. Blair Witch Project is currently on Xbox Game Pass, and is some ideal late night/Halloween season gaming that I highly recommend to all! 2) FINISH HIM!! Usually I would lump this in with my yearly fighting games recap, but my time with Mortal Kombat 11 rose well above the rest of my time with other fighting games that it climbed out of that group and rose to my #2 gaming moment of the year! For the first half of 2021, I had semi-frequent online sessions with my aforementioned fighting game buddy, Chris! Whenever a new DLC character from the DLC pass released every several weeks, we would usually meet up one of the following weekends and experiment away with the new member of the roster. If I really dug a character, I would then do repeated playthroughs of that character in the Towers of Time in order to unlock more costumes and other gear for that character. That wound up happening with both Joker and Robocop, as I had a ton of fun with both of those characters’ moves and fighting styles.

The announcement of the Aftermath DLC halfway into 2020 totally caught me off guard. It was a new storyline expansion DLC that lasted only a few hours, but continues the same best-in-class production values of fighting game cutscenes that seamlessly transition between fights. Best of all, it brings the DLC characters into the narrative to freshen it up, and is highlighted by Shang Tsung being your uneasy ally/rival throughout which resulted in yet-another killer MK storyline to take in, even if it was a little shorter. Oh yeah, NetherRealm Studios inserted the likeness and voice of the same actor who perfectly portrayed Tsung in the first Mortal Kombat film, Cary Tagawa. My nostalgia for that 1995 movie knows no bounds, so it was a thrill to have Tagawa return to MK11 for the Aftermath storyline. Another movie related surprise was new costume DLC for Sonya, Raiden and Johnny Cage that use the likenesses and voiceovers from their 1995 movie cast counterparts with Bridgette Wilson, Christopher Lambert and Linden Ashby all returning. I am so thrilled to see the games fully embrace the fandom for the 1995 movie, and doubly thrilling is that the new Mortal Kombat film set to release later this year that legit looks kind of promising based on the trailer and general buzz in the movie/gaming press. Another surprise update to MK11 was the inclusion of cross-network play. So that meant I could finally play against my brother on Xbox One! I was skeptical trying it out when my brother and I lined up a day to play that it would be a laggy mess playing on different systems against each other, but we played for about an hour with no problems, and all my costume and gear unlocks carried forward too! Countless thanks for the developers adding this support, and also many props to Sony/Microsoft/Nintendo for making it so to see it start to become a little more common to other online games in general throughout 2020! So yeah, this all added up to me revisiting MK11 more frequently than I thought I would with the nonstop support from NetherRealm Studios in 2020, and thus it more than earned its #2 ranking on my list, and technically my #1 video-game ranking because…. 1) Global Board Game Domination!!

Once or twice a year, dating back nearly 15 years I have met with mostly the same group of friends for marathon sessions of my favorite board game, Risk. That game is notorious for taking anywhere from two-to-five hours to finish in order to take over the world via smart strategy and lucky dice rolls! Every time we play, we bust out pretzels, beers, Chuck Norris shots and end the night playing PS3 Tiger Woods PGA Tour ‘12 until we get sleepy! I always look forward to these nights, and they are kind of like a second Christmas to me because it only happens once or twice a year. As awesome as these are, my technical prowess in Risk strategy and luck in dice rolls leave a lot to be desired over the years, and I am almost always the first or second person eliminated. Regardless of that, I want to give props to Mike, Jim and Paul for the decade plus of priceless Risk memories and moments. A couple years ago Mike moved and my brother Joe has been filling that fourth chair! We have played a couple five player games over the years, but our 2020 night (which luckily emanated about a month before the pandemic hit), saw Jim’s nephew Matt join us for our first five player game in some time. This was Matt’s first game of Risk and thus a learning experience and I had to be the spoiler to ruin his first game and wound up eliminating him first from the game. From there though it was still relatively early as far as the army bonuses goes within an average game of Risk, but a domino effect happened and I was able to capitalize on eliminating Matt and gaining his territories and within about an hour eliminated everyone else on my own!!!! I was in disbelief, and as much as I hate to admit it had somewhat of a brief emotional moment upon winning that game because in our 15-ish years playing, I have only won once before early on and it had to of been at least 10 years since that and I was not use to things going my way, and in that fashion to boot.

The way that game played out resulted in an oddly short-ish two hour game, so we decided to get another round in that night. Now that Matt had his warm-up round in, he had a better grasp of the game and this was a more traditionally close, longer game of Risk where the excitement was in the mobilization of armies and territories in those early rounds and to see who would make the first big attack move in attempts of expanding their territory. Hell yeah, I was all-in on this five hour game of Risk!!! Now as this round unfolded this will be very hard to believe, but I swear I am telling the whole truth that against all odds the same exact thing happened and I eliminated everybody and won the second game as well!!! I am still dismayed thinking about how well that night went for me in Risk, and highly doubt it will happen again! So for me, predominant loser and usually first one out in a game, to full on run the board and eliminate everyone in two consecutive games happens you damn well bet that night is going to be my best gaming related moment of the year!! THANK YOU!!!! I somehow achieved a degree of brevity this year, as last year’s insane best-of list went around 18,000 words, but I was able to….kinda….tighten my word count this year by clocking it at roughly 12,000 words!! My endless thanks for sticking with me all the way through as I recap my favorite (and worst) gaming moments/experiences of the year. Now, to keep up with tradition, after all that perusing and me rambling on for way too long…are you ready for a chuckle or two? Well, then, let none other than John Cena take care of that for you with the following embedded video to close off another best-of list. See you all next year!!!

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Previous Year’s Best of Recaps - 2019 - 2018 - 2017 - 2016

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awanqi · 7 years

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that one botched ask (sorry about that), now with images.

Hey! I absolutely adore the way you colour and I wondered if you've ever explained or would ever explain your process from the sketch to the finished drawing? I really struggle with shading and blending skin and especially blending the lines of the sketch in with the rest... do you happen to maybe have any tips about that? 💕 from @gay-street

Sorry for taking so long to reply. Sometimes I don’t know exactly how to answer some of the asks, and I have to plan it out :)

I already answered an ask like this, but I whipped up another process rundown for fun :D It’s simpler, but I’ll break it down anyway. (ft. nightwing)

1. sketch: Intentionally rough and loose. It’s easier on my hand, and the sketch won’t be in the final product anyway, so it doesn’t need to be neat or presentable.

2. block in gray: I always use gray as my “base color”. Gray is the most versatile/neutral, which allows me to choose any other color without ending up with something garish.

3. rough color with lines on: Here I put in the palette I want, which is a pretty basic one. I also add in lighting. I keep my palette limited, and here it’s more in the reds and yellows. Even more specific would be light purple, less saturated blue (remember your complementary schemes) etc. With the many color schemes out there, I usually go with some variation of that scheme as to not limit myself to textbook rules.

4. turn off sketch: (looks scary ahh) You mentioned that you have trouble “ blending the lines of the sketch in with the rest…” I used to do that years back, but I find that it’s a hassle to paint the lines in with the color. What I normally do is to lower the opacity of the sketch to about 5-10% (yeah lol, I really don’t like having my sketch on there), which would be on a layer above my color, and paint the rougher details on my color layer. Once I have enough details where I can paint without the sketch, I turn it off.

5. paint til finish: Here’s where the main work goes on. I paint in details, hair, clean up messy parts, etc.

6. paint the heart pink. show your love Most important part

If you are struggling with blending and shading, look at good artists’, (i.e. William Adolphe-Bouguereau, Norman Rockwell) paintings and see the value scale that they use in their artwork. I’d stick to realistic paintings in the beginning, but as you advance and gain more knowledge of how other artists implement value, you can go to other sources and art movements. My personal favorite is American Illustration (JC Leyendecker, Howard Pyle, Dean Cornwell, for example).

Here, I’ll show you what I mean.

Detail from Bouguereau’s “Mimosa (The Mimosa Flower)”, 1899

[His lightest shade, which is not white. It’s still gray]

[His darkest shade, which isn’t very dark at all.]

In other words, no pure black and no pure white. Bouguereau stayed in the middle range of the value scale, as one typically should, unless other circumstances call for something different, like strong lighting or glares.

[note the changes in value and the level of difference they compose of.]

Analyze the rest of the areas and see what you can discern. Learn the value ranges that are typically in place in the areas of the body using reference artwork or photos.

This is how I taught myself. Is it correct? I don’t know. Is anything correct when it comes to art? Who knows… Make your own rules ;)

Here’s also a previous process ask that I answered showing my process: clicky clicky

Thank you @gay-street for sending me an ask. really sorry that that post turned out that way. I hope this makes up for it! and sorry if I keep bothering you with the tagging!

#asks #gay-street #dc comics #nightwing #art tutorial #ehh

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quinzelade · 7 years

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By No Constraint (chpt 71)

SS x Danse

Chapter List

Thanks to my amazing beta, @waiting4morning, for her wonderful work!

Tumblr has apparently changed its linking rules, meaning I can no longer externally link my FFnet or Ao3 accounts if I want my story to show up in the tag search on tumblr. If you want update alerts, please search ‘quinzelade’ on either of these sites and follow me there.

Apologies for the huge unplanned almost two month gap for this fic. The Manchester bombing happened, which was in my general part of the country, which meant work and other related stuff got busy for me, as everything got affected in that area tbh. Then I went to Normandy to take part in the memorial D-Day services over there. Now I’m in Texas, where I’ve finally had time to write.

I decided to finish up the last few chapters of BNC. They are all written out and beta’d, so with any luck I’ll be releasing them each week without any disruptions. I will be announcing what I intend to do in regards to other writing plans closer to the final chapter.

It's good to be back! I missed you all, and I hope you enjoy the ending of my long ass story. :)

Major Brotherhood/Danse spoilers.

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Reparations

–

The holotags were to remain with Quinn.

Danse knew this—hated it—but he also understood the necessity. They had to be handed in to strike Marguerie off the Brotherhood’s list. Official closure, as well as supporting the story Quinn would give to anyone that asked.

Official closure.

Danse snorted to himself, his hands gripping at his gun. Official closure existed for one reason: to pass on the deceased holotags to their families. The malicious irony brought a sour taste to Danse’s mouth, and he felt his face twist with disgust. No one knew Marguerie’s daughter still lived. The tags would never reach their rightful owner.

Every step he took—every inch he moved from those tags—felt like a betrayal to Sarah. He was going to tell the girl her mother was dead, that he murdered Marguerie, and had nothing to show for it.

Well, not nothing. The sketchbook rested against his heart like a shield, pressing uncomfortably into his ribcage. Small price to pay for a child’s mother.

Would she remember him? It had been months since he’d seen her. Danse recalled how cheerful she’d been, even knowing her father was likely dead. And brave, too. Chasing after super mutants with rocks.

Danse grinned to himself, but the smile slipped away almost immediately. He told Marguerie this on her grave. And just like then, Danse knew she would have been proud of Sarah. A shame Sarah would have no memory of Marguerie at all...or maybe a blessing. Marguerie’s absence must have hurt on some level.

He wondered if Sarah would ever grow to be as tall as her mother. Now he thought about it, the idea of MacCready and Marguerie being an item wasn’t so strange. She’d always liked men shorter than her. George had only come up to her chin.

Danse chuckled to himself, the day she’d brought George to the base as clear as day. There had been some teasing from the other grunts, but for once, Marguerie didn’t rise to it. The smile on her face as she’d sat with George, ignoring the taunts, was clear for everyone to see: love.

Danse stopped in his tracks, staring across the dead landscape. In the distance, he could just make out the Slog, the sun gleaming off the surface of its tarberry filled pools. He focused on the shifting shimmers, trying to push Marguerie out of his mind, and then immediately found himself distracted as a brahmin ambled into view. For a panic-stricken second, he thought it was Weathers, before remembering Weathers was dead.

The discomfort that gripped him when they found the doctor’s body returned in full force. Although Danse wasn’t entirely certain of Weathers’ fate, he still had a pretty good idea, and it involved a certain ghoul pressing money into the outstretched hands of Weathers’ guards.

Danse wasn’t an idiot, and neither was Quinn. She would never buy his flippancy over Weathers’ death. He’d lied to her anyway.

Lied.

Danse felt slightly sick, even if he’d deceived her for the best of reasons. But he’d live with it. Danse knew Quinn, and he knew she’d feel responsible if he shared his suspicions. After all, she was the one to tell Hancock that Weathers took bribes from the Institute. And while Quinn was more than capable of doing what was necessary, she also clung to her outdated morals.

Danse loved her for them. Letting Weathers leave on the proviso he never came back, despite his Institute leanings. Honouring a man’s word and upholding hers in turn. It was so...pre-war.

Danse supposed that’s why deciding Carson’s fate took so long. But Quinn had deemed Carson a potential threat. Weathers, she had not, now the Institute was gone. And to have him killed when he posed no immediate risk…

No, Quinn would not approve. So Danse lied. She had enough on her plate at the moment without the added guilt of a worthless corpse.

Danse shook his head and strode on. He was fixating on something he only suspected, even though the evidence was pointing to the same person. But what Hancock may or may not have done was none of Danse's business. He had Quinn and Charlie to think about.

Slowly, he drew near to the Slog. Even from a distance, Danse could see the ghoul residents tense at his arrival. His face was still covered. Hoping they wouldn’t be too alarmed when found out who he was, Danse made his way over to Wiseman. “I don’t know you remember me, but…”

A chorus of “Paladin Danse!” hit the air, the residents moving to crowd around him. Danse winced, casting a sharp glance over his shoulder as if the Brotherhood were right at his heels, and he heard Wiseman hiss, “Shh! You know he’s supposed to be dead!”

“Thanks,” Danse replied, turning back to face Wiseman and holding out his hand.

Wiseman stared at him, and Danse inwardly cursed. The first time he’d been here, he’d been nothing short of awful. Of course they wouldn’t forget that in a hurry. The only reason they’d tolerated him was because of Quinn, and she wasn’t here now.

“Sorry,” Danse said quickly, attempting to withdraw. But Wiseman seized his hand and shook vigorously.

“I don’t remember the last time a smoothskin offered to shake hands,” the ghoul rasped, beaming.

“It’s not a big deal,” muttered Danse, his cheeks hot.

“Oh, but it is.” Wiseman fixed Danse with a piercing stare. “It really is. You’ve come a long way, Paladin.” He gave a friendly squeeze and let go.

“I’m not a paladin anymore,” Danse replied, meeting Wiseman’s eye. “And that’s probably for the best.”

Wiseman laughed, stepping forward and clapping Danse on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink. What’s your poison? And where’s Quinn?”

“Non-alcoholic,” Danse said as the two of them walked inside the building in the centre of the settlement. “Quinn had business with the Brotherhood. She’ll be joining me here later. But—”

“Nuka-Cherry?” Wiseman said, opening a cupboard and pulling out a dusty, magenta bottle.

“Uh.” Danse blinked. He’d never tried anything other than normal Nuka-Cola. “Sure.”

Wiseman produced a rusted bottle opener from his pocket, prised off the cap, and then slipped both back into his pocket. He passed the drink to Danse, who cautiously sipped. It was far sweeter than normal cola, but nice in its own way.

Danse had a little more to be polite, then said, “I’m not on a social visit unfortunately.”

“Oh?” Wiseman poured himself vodka, neat, and sipped it from a chipped coffee mug.

Danse stared at the alcohol, momentarily distracted, before shaking his head. Focus. “I’m here to see Sarah. The little girl?”

“Sarah?” Wiseman repeated, and Danse heard something in the ghoul’s tone he didn’t like. “Why do you want to see her?”

“I...I think I found her mother. Her name was Marguerie. Ra—”

“Was?” There was a clatter as Wiseman knocked over his mug, sending vodka everywhere. But he didn’t seem to notice, staring hard at Danse. “Is Rachel…?”

Danse nodded. “Yes.” Wiseman knew Marguerie’s first name, without being told. Danse’s doubts melted away, though his stomach still felt tight. He forged on. “I need to speak to Sarah. Need to...pass on some items, as well as the bad news.”

Wiseman pressed his lips together, his ravaged face paling. Danse waited, dread starting to creep over him as the ghoul struggling to speak. Finally, Wiseman’s brow knotted together and he bit his lip. “I’m...I’m sorry, Danse. Sarah’s gone.”

Quinn's breaths beat to the rhythm of her footsteps, sharp and painful. She didn't know where else to go, what to do. Maxson's attitude enraged her. After everything she told him, the first thing he could comment on was her relationship with Danse. Why was it so important to him? Why was he so fixated on condemning Danse and keeping her here?

She shook her head and stomped on, ignoring the initiates that scurried out of her way to avoid her wrath. No doubt some of her altercation with Maxson had carried to the rest of the ship. She only hoped the finer details had been lost in the scuffle. As she reached the middle of the walkways, though, Quinn stopped. There was one place on this stupid ship she was guaranteed privacy. Maxson wouldn't follow her there now—not after the way she'd spoken to him.

Smiling bitterly to herself, she turned on her heel and marched back the way she came, before turning right to the officers' dorms. At the end of this new corridor was her own room. Her sanctuary away from so many staring, questioning eyes.

She opened the door, and halted in the doorway, staring. There was someone sitting on her bed, someone she hadn't expected to find.

"Josh?"

Joshua Cooper sprang to his feet at once, scarlet in the face. He practically punched himself in the chest as he saluted and said, "Ma'am! Sorry for the intrusion, ma'am!"

Quinn smiled at him. "Relax, Josh. I said you could come here, remember?"

Josh's faced deepened to maroon, his fist still digging into his chest. "I know, but...I didn't want you to find me here."

"Why not?"

"Because...it's a private place."

Quinn frowned. Private for who? She gestured for him to sit down, and after a few seconds, Josh relented, letting his arm fall to his side. Quinn grabbed the chair from next to the old desk, and set it down opposite him. Then she went to the lockers lining the walls and rummaged through them. The last time she had done this, it was Bantios who needed her comfort. Quinn felt a pang in her chest as she located her stash of Nuka-Colas, and wondered how good of a job she did after all. He'd still gone to fight the Institute. He'd still died. Saved everyone in the process. Quinn hadn't even stayed for his funeral.

"Ma'am?" came Josh's high voice from behind her. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

"Yeah, fine," Quinn lied, stepping back from the lockers, a bottle clutched in each hand.

"Oh, wow! Nuka-Cola!" he said at once, sounding thrilled. "My mom only ever let me try it once!"

There was a pause, and Josh made a noise like he was being strangled. Then he pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face in them.

Quinn decided not to comment and instead prised the caps off the edge of her desk, grinning slightly at the thought of Danse's expression if he could see her now. He'd be horrified at her using his old workspace for such a purpose. She wiped the smile away as she approached Josh, though, and nudged him gently with his bottle as she sat down in her chair. It wasn't as comfy as Mrs. Bossanova's old armchair, but it would do.

Eventually, after a few dogged nudges, Josh took the bottle and sipped reluctantly. Quinn saw his eyes widen slightly before taking a longer swig, like a broken man drowning his sorrows with booze.

"How have you been, Josh?" Quinn said, drinking from her own bottle.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Hey," Quinn said sharply, making Josh flinch. "No swearing."

God, I sound like my mother used to.

"You swear! I've heard you!" Josh replied indignantly. God, he sounds like I used to.

"Yeah, well," Quinn mumbled, hiding her hypocrisy behind another sip of the cola, "it's a bad habit. Don't do it. I won't be letting my son swear."

"He will if you carry on swearing," Josh said bluntly, glaring at her. "Kids look up to their parents." He paused, looking upset. Josh hid his face behind his knees again, holding the bottle lazily between his fingers. It was at great risk of falling. Quinn leaned forward and plucked it from his hand, setting it down on the floor next to her.

She was reminded of Nate's annoyance whenever she’d sworn in front of Shaun, telling her she was setting a bad example to their son. Quinn had promised she'd put a lid on it, and managed for a while. Then the apocalypse happened. Small promises fell by the wayside after that.

"They'll be proud of you," Quinn said gently, setting her own drink down. "Because you're right. Charlie will copy me."

Josh lifted his fingers slightly to show he heard her but didn't look up.

"How are things with Michelle?"

"Bad," Josh said, his voice muffled by his knees. "All she does is cry. She's stopped teaching, too. They had to get a scribe called Haylen to take over.” He finally raised his head again. "I like Haylen. She's nice."

Quinn smiled. "I like Haylen too. She's a friend of mine."

Josh seemed to uncoil himself, sitting up straighter. "I like coming to talk with you, ma'am. Can I...am I allowed to talk to you more often?"

Quinn bit her lip. "Josh..."

His face fell. "Oh. Sorry." He started to get up from the bed, looking embarrassed.

“No, it's not like that," Quinn said quickly, holding out a hand to stop him. "I'd be more than happy to talk with you if...if I was staying."

Josh fell back onto the bed with a soft flump. "You're leaving?"

Quinn nodded. "I have a new mission, elsewhere in the Commonwealth. It's going to take a long time to do. I might never be coming back." At the look on Josh's face she hastily added, "I'm sorry! I know it's not the best news but—"

"Take me with you," Josh said at once, grabbing her hand. "Please, take me with you. Don't leave me here. Please!"

Quinn's words caught in her throat. More than anything, she wanted him away from the Brotherhood. She could see the misery this place inflicted on him. The loneliness. An Elder Maxson in the making. But with the plans she had for Sanctuary, and the ideals the Brotherhood put into their children, it wouldn't be safe to bring him. He would hate what he saw. May even try to escape back to the Prydwen if it became too much. And not only would he risk his life in the attempt, but if he made it, then Charlie and Danse's lives would be at risk, too.

She cared for Josh. But he wasn't her son.

Quinn shook her head. "I'm sorry, Josh. I can't. It's too dangerous. No mission for a child. Besides, if you went with me. You'd never see Michelle again. Or any of your friends. Or—"

"I don't want to see her again," Josh said, his face burning scarlet. "I don't care about this place anymore. My mom and dad are dead, and for what? You couldn't even tell me why they died! Because they died for nothing! I'm on my own, and it was for nothing!"

He screamed the last sentence in her face. Quinn didn't stop him. Didn't even challenge him. He was right. But it changed nothing. Even if Josh adapted to life at Sanctuary, to Danse's survival, to all her plans, Maxson would never agree to let him go. And if she took him, the Brotherhood would turn the wasteland upside-down to find him. Missing soldiers were one thing, but children? She knew enough of Maxson's history to understand he would stop at nothing to make sure the boy was safe.

“No,” Quinn said, making her tone cold and final. “You have to stay here.”

Josh glared up at her. “Fuck. You.”

He wrenched his hands away and ran from the room before she could so much as move. Quinn sat in her uncomfortable chair, shocked, letting what had just happened sink in. She could have taken him away from all of this. Taken him somewhere he could be a normal kid.

Quinn stayed sitting in the empty room a little while longer, staring at the wall, before forcing herself to get up. There were things to do. No time to mope. She had to say goodbye to Carson.

Maxson was already in the sick bay when Quinn walked through the door. He turned around to see who had entered, and then promptly put his back to her. When he began to speak again, it was as if she wasn’t in the room.

“I need people I can trust with the operations ahead of me. The Sentinel speaks most highly of you, and given the circumstances we discussed, I think you have shown you stand for what is right above all else. Do you agree?”

“I...yes sir.” Carson was pale and wide-eyed, staring up at Maxson. Aside from when he’d been questioned over Danse’s synth status alongside Rachel, Quinn was sure Carson had never held an actual conversation with Maxson.

“Good.” Maxson saluted. “Ad victoriam, Knight-Sergeant.”

“Ad victoriam, sir.” Carson tried to salute, but his arm trembled and dropped lamely back to his side. If Maxson cared, he didn’t show it, striding from the room without another word and deliberately avoiding Quinn’s eye.

They waited until Maxson’s footsteps died away. Quinn cleared her throat. “What was all that about?”

“I’ve been promoted,” Carson said weakly, staring at the foot of his bed.

“Congratulations.” The word sounded insincere, and Quinn felt her cheeks burn. However, Carson shrugged.

“He said he had a conversation with you about the future of the Brotherhood. He wants my input when I’m better. Said as a survivor of what happened with Rachel, I’m in the best position to advise him so that it doesn’t happen again. Highlight the failings that caused her to slip so far.” Carson looked up at Quinn, and she saw an empty sorrow in his gaze. But then something shifted, and anger blossomed from the depths. “You—”

An irregular clunking made him stop, and seconds later, Kapraski burst into the room, leaning heavily on his crutch. “Christ, am I allowed back now? What the hell was he playing at, sending me out? You’re my partner, for christsakes!”

“Tom—” Carson began, but Kapraski ignored him, propping himself precariously on the crutch while he started fussing over the state of Carson’s pillows, which were not sufficiently fluffed to Kapraski’s satisfaction.

“Tom,” Carson said louder. “I need to speak to Quinn.”

Kapraski paused, his brow furrowing. “So? Whatever it is, you can say it in front of me. I already had to wait somewhere else while Maxson was here. I’m not doing it again.”

“Yes, you are.” Carson locked eyes with Kapraski and frowned. “Please leave.”

Kapraski was as stunned as Quinn felt. Carson had never been so firm with his boyfriend before, usually letting Kapraski take the lead. Now he was putting his foot down. The effect was quite unnerving.

“I…” Kapraski glanced at Quinn, clearly hurt. Then he nodded. “Alright. I’ll just be down the hall.” His eyes flicked back to Quinn as he said, “Come find me when you’re done.” With that, he managed to get himself upright and hobbled out from the sick bay.

Carson sighed as Kapraski left. “He’s pissed. I’ll be in for it later.”

Quinn sat herself down on Cade’s desk and studied him. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You know what.” Carson nodded towards the open door, menace cracking his features. “You told Maxson? Did you even stop to consider what kind of shit you might be dropping me in?”

Quinn hesitated. Carson had been honest with her over Rachel. She owed it to him to be honest over Maxson. “I did.”

“And you told him anyway?” When Quinn nodded, he let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Oh, I see. Fish me out of the frying pan and throw me into the fire, right?”

“It’s not like that—” she began.

“I know it’s not,” Carson snapped, glaring at her. “Lucky for you, Maxson didn’t flip the fuck out and have me executed on the spot to hide his secret. But you didn’t know that. Anything could have happened. Tom could have been dragged into it as well.” He was almost snarling at her, his hands balled into fists.

“The Brotherhood is going to run itself into the ground,” Quinn said, too tired to dance around the matter anymore. “It’s unsustainable. I told him about Rachel to prove a point. Maxson needs to change. The Brotherhood needs to change. If it doesn’t, it will die.”

Carson didn’t answer, taking in quick, ragged breaths that made his chest appear to spasm. Quinn bit her lip and then sighed.

“I’m leaving, Carson. And I won’t be coming back.”

Carson looked up at her, blinking slowly, his mouth open. “You’re…leaving?”

Quinn nodded. “But...if you’re scared…” She fidgeted. “I can wait until you’re better, and then you can leave with me. You and Kapraski. Sanctuary isn’t like the place where you were born. No one will judge you for who you are.”

There was a stab of guilt within her as she offered out the one thing she’d denied Josh. But she knew Carson, at least, was safe. And Kapraski hadn’t shown animosity to Nick when they’d met. He was safe too.

Carson blinked again, and turned his head from her to stare around Cade’s office. Quinn knew his only love for the place was the community he felt. The acceptance. He could get that just as much in Sanctuary. Quinn thought he might jump at the chance. She was wrong.

“No,” he said, blinking quickly now, his eyes shining bright. “No. I can’t do that to Tom.”

“But he can come with you,” Quinn replied, feeling confused now.

“It’s not that, he…” Carson’s face scrunched in despair. “Tom needs to fly, to pilot a vertibird again one day. It’s the only thing keeping him going. If we leave, he loses that for good. I won’t take it from him.”

“But you said you were worried that—”

“I’m angry you didn’t think things through.” His face hardened again. “You took a big risk telling the Elder what happened. But that wouldn’t push me enough to leave.”

“Even if it got you killed?”

“Dying isn’t too much of a burden.” He raised an eyebrow at the look on her face. “I’m not suicidal or anything. I want to live, but...well, I wouldn’t know I was dead either. Tom would be upset, but he’d get over it. Move on.” Carson’s brow creased. “Tom is happiest in the sky. I want him to be happy. And I want you to be safe. I don’t really care what happens to me past that.”

Quinn wondered how she could have ever doubted his sincerity. She slid from the desk as he stretched his hand out to her and locked her fingers through his. The weight of her decision was finally taking its toll. She would never see Carson again. Never laugh or joke with him, cry on his shoulder, or console him in turn. Never…

The two of them were suddenly hugging, though Quinn had no recollection of who started it. She arched her back up, trying to avoid pressing on his wounded chest, only for Carson to drag her close. He grunted with pain, but dug his fingers into her arms as she tried to pull away. Quinn understood. The last one should mean something, no matter how much it hurt.

Eventually, they broke apart, both wiping at their eyes.

“Don’t get yourself skewered,” Quinn said, trying to smile.

“And don’t let yourself get shot,” Carson countered, struggling to keep his tone playful. “I won’t be able to drag you out again.”

“I know.”

There seemed nothing else to say that wouldn’t prolong the parting. Quinn took his hand, gave his fingers a final squeeze, and left.

It was almost dusk by the time Quinn arrived at the Slog. Danse heard her before he saw her, exiting her power armour with a grating clunk and cheerfully greeting Wiseman. Danse drained his Nuka-Cola, setting it down next to the pile of empty bottles, and slowly got to his feet. He had been sitting outside on the ground, back to the wall, basking in the sun. Numb.

Quinn wrapped her arms around him, planting a kiss on his lips, and Danse tried to force some enthusiasm into the embrace. When they broke apart, she frowned at him.

“Everything okay?” Quinn asked, touching his cheek. “How did the talk with Sarah go?”

“It...it didn’t.” Danse dropped his gaze. “She left the Slog months ago.”

“Left?” Her worry was clear. “But she’s only a kid!” Quinn looked over her shoulder to where Wiseman lingered. “You let her go?”

“No, we—” Wiseman began.

“She went with Arlen Glass in the middle of the night,” Danse interrupted, and Quinn turned sharply to face him again. “Or that’s what everyone suspects. No one actually saw them.”

“Arlen was always close with Sarah,” Wiseman said with a shrug. “And after Sarah’s dad got dragged away by the mutants…” He heaved a great sigh. “Arlen became like a father to her. Almost inseparable. But then he started playing this tape, over and over again, with a young girl talking on it. A week later, he was gone. And Sarah with him.”

Quinn didn’t seem to be listening, staring instead at Danse. Danse could barely look at her, barely think. The one thing he’d promised to Marguerie—to speak to Sarah, to protect her—and he’d failed almost immediately. He had broken his word.

Quinn apparently read his mind. She put her arms around his neck pulled him down so that his chin rested where her neck met her shoulder. Danse closed his eyes. She didn’t need to speak to tell him it wasn’t his fault. He could feel it in how tight she held him.

They didn’t stay long after that. Wiseman tried to convince them otherwise, but the place felt like a bitter reminder of how fruitless Danse’s actions had been. Marguerie would be sneering if she could see him now.

At Quinn’s insistence, they made their way to the old bunker to collect the last of Danse’s things. Surprisingly enough, the place hadn’t been looted, but he found himself somewhat detached from the items that had been so dear to him not that long ago. He glared at the Brotherhood flag hung on the wall, and then walked past it, calmly picking up the chipped shot glass and the book Quinn had given him.

His Brotherhood armour stood not too far away, side by side with the set Quinn and the others helped him acquire. He studied it, a pang in his chest. Despite everything that had happened, Danse still felt drawn to it, to the memories lingering in the steel. Now he knew what he was, this armour had been his longest, most faithful companion.

He jumped as Quinn touched his arm.

“Take it all with you,” she said quietly, nodding from his armour to the tattered flag. “Even if you’re feeling bitter. You can decide later whether you want to keep them.”

“I can only choose one set,” Danse said, his eyes still fixed on the Brotherhood armour.

“We’ll come back for the other later.”

Her words made sense, but he didn’t want to return to this bunker ever again. Not unless he had to. It was a dank, gloomy place that stunk of decay, and woven deep into his now distant grief of being a synth. Being back here was making him ache with despair. Danse twitched his nose, wrestling for another topic. “What happened on the Prydwen?”

Quinn suddenly looked anguished herself. In a monotone, she told him of Carson and Maxson, and everything in-between. Danse wasn’t surprised she was truthful with Maxson—he even felt a twinge of pride at her honesty, but it was quickly wiped away as she described the struggle that ensued. “He grabbed you?”

Quinn shrugged, reaching up to unpin the flag from the wall. “It’s no big deal. I tried to punch him first.”

But the sleeve of her jacket slipped down, revealing darkening bruises in the shape of fingers on her wrist. Danse snarled and strode over to Quinn, ignoring her look of alarm as he took hold of her as firmly as he dared and tugged the sleeve down more. He stared at the marks for a second, blood pounding through his ears, and then said, “Maxson did this?”

The tremor in Danse’s voice was all too clear. Quinn bit her lip as their eyes met, and then gave a small nod. “Please, don’t do anything. He was only restraining me.”

Danse let go of her, breathing hard. He didn’t know why it made him so angry. Quinn was right—she had hit first, and in any other situation, Maxson’s response would be justified.

But he’d hurt Quinn.

Danse turned to the flag on the wall, still pinned in place. In one sharp movement, he tore it down, throwing it to the floor.

“Danse!” Quinn moved in front of him, her eyes wide. “There’s no point getting upset over something so small! Maxson’s an asshole. Just let it be.”

“You’re one to talk,” Danse retorted, clenching and unclenching his fists. He needed to regain his composure, and he was trying, but… “You tried to hit the man because he insulted me!”

Quinn smiled and caressed his cheek. “Then we’re as bad as each other.”

Her touch was like a sedative. The rage drained away at once, replaced by a dull warmth. She wanted him to be calm. He would be calm. Danse exhaled heavily and nodded, placing his hand over hers. Then he gently tugged her arm away and kissed each of the bruises, with slow, careful deliberateness. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Of course I’m alright.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his nose. “It’s just Maxson. He doesn’t matter.”

“No. He doesn’t.” The words felt foreign in Danse’s mouth, but he meant them.

They stood in silence for a few moments, and then resumed packing Danse’s things, stacking them in a little pile to put in the power armour of his choosing. Danse didn’t bother to pick the Brotherhood flag off the floor.

“Oh, by the way,” Quinn said as they worked, “I spoke to Joshua Cooper earlier: Vivian and Stephen’s son.”

Danse looked up at her. Her tone suggested she had been sitting on this information for a while, waiting for the right time to tell him. She busied herself around the workbench, avoiding his eye, though apparently without really moving anything.

“He...he wanted to come with me,” she said. “Hates being on the ship. Hates being with his aunt. Begged me to take him away from the Brotherhood.”

Danse frowned. “Why isn’t he here then?”

Quinn glanced at him. “I thought it was obvious. He knows you’re a synth. What if he reacts badly to it? Tries to leave?”

“Has he ever shown any anti-synth sentiment?”

“No,” Quinn said quickly, an odd expression her face. She straightened up, her brow furrowed. “And his parents never did, either. Vivian said you didn’t deserve what you got. That you were a good man.”

Danse blinked. Viv, on his side? But that was neither here nor there. They were talking about Josh. He shook his head and said, “Then I repeat my question. Why isn’t he here?”

“Well...I’m worried about how Charlie might react to it. He’s already feeling neglected.”

“Charlie might not like it at first,” Danse admitted, “or he might find Josh good company. We don’t know. I don’t think such a small uncertainty is worth leaving Josh behind.”

“Charlie’s happiness isn’t a small uncertainty,” she snapped.

“You know what I meant,” Danse replied, not rising to her ire. What she was saying made sense, but this was Viv and Stephen’s son. If Danse had the opportunity to make a difference...

“I just…” Quinn hesitated. “Even without the issue of Charlie, is bringing Josh home too risky?”

Danse considered this. Sarah surfaced in his mind, far beyond his reach. Maxson, and what he had become right under Danse’s nose. Stephen and Vivian, his old friends, abandoned by him after Cutler’s death. Each indirect failure an old, painful scar. He wouldn’t add another one.

“No,” Danse said truthfully. “It’s not too risky.”

It was as if Quinn had been waiting on a signal. She tore across the room without a second thought, clambering into her armour.

“Wait, where are you going?” Danse asked, bewildered.

“To get Josh, if I can.” The armour sealed itself, and Quinn jogged across the room, picking her rifle off the table. “I’ll need Maxson’s help.”

The idea of her going back to Maxson filled him with dread. Maxson wasn’t known for his patience over blatant insubordination, and Quinn was the posterchild for defiance. To go back now could provoke him into something rash. Danse had the fleeting urge to stop her, until she turned, her helmet under her arm, and he saw the expression on her face.

Permission, Danse realised. She was asking for permission.

Intentionally or not, he’d just given it her. Now only a second apocalypse would stop Quinn returning to the Prydwen. Danse stayed silent as she put her helmet on and checked over her rifle. His heart was racing. They’d escaped, and now she was going back.

But before she headed towards the elevator, she turned to him, and Danse’s breath caught in his throat.

“Thank you,” she said, tapping her fingers on her rifle. “For not telling me to play it safe and leave him behind.”

Danse nodded, biting his tongue. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Quinn made a noise as if she was going to say something else, but then thought better of it. She marched over to the elevator, stepped inside, and disappeared from sight. The sound of grinding metal slowly faded, leaving Danse alone. He turned on the spot, the cold biting him, the dim lighting making his headache. He felt as lost as the day he’d learned he was a synth, alone and unsure what to do.

Like an old friend, the bunker enveloped him. It was as if he’d never left.

“Sir!”

Quinn nearly fell at Maxson’s feet as she skidded to a halt, her boots slipping on the metal floor. Her armour had been left on the outer decks. Maxson looked slowly over his shoulder, feet rooted to the spot, and glared at her.

“Sir now, is it?” Maxson said coldly. He looked back out of the office window, a drink in his hand. “Get out.”

“Please.” Quinn paused, trying to catch her breath. “It’s important. You know I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Maxson raised his glass, sipped from it, and then spoke to the window. “True.”

Silence.

“I watched you return,” he said eventually, his voice flat. “And wondered what would drag you back before you’d ever truly left.”

Quinn didn’t reply, her ragged breaths heavy in the quiet. She began breathing through her nose instead, trying not to disturb the tension in the air.

Maxson turned sharply around, nodding to his guards. “Knight-Sergeants. Dismissed.”

The guards saluted and obeyed without question, their clanging, armoured footsteps quickly fading away. Maxson waited until the suffocating silence returned before speaking. He looked at her in disgust. “What do you want?”

His tone was curt and crisp, sharpened with dislike and pointed at her throat.

Quinn did not break eye contact. “Do you remember Field Scribe Cooper and Knight-Sergeant Cooper?”

“Yes.”

“Their son, Joshua...he asked to go with me. I wondered if...”

“No.”

The word hit her like a bullet. “But, sir, if he wants to go with me —”

“No.” As Maxson whipped around to face her, he set down his glass so carelessly it spun straight off the edge of the table. Dregs of spirit splashed all over his boots as the glass shattered on the floor, but Maxson ignored it. “You will not take a single child off this ship. He belongs with his family.”

“His family is dead,” Quinn shot back, tensing up herself. “He can’t stand his aunt, and from what I can gather, she’s in no fit state to be looking after the boy in the first place.”

“We are a brotherhood in more than name. We will look after him.”

“The same way Rachel was looked after?”

“By the tone of Knight-Captain Cade’s report, Knight-Sergeant Marguerie had a penchant for bending others to her will.” Maxson gave a slight shake of his head. “Even if Cade wrongly blames himself.”

All at once, the tension left Quinn. There was something in the way he spoke, the way he held himself—like a yao guai defending its cubs. She knew he cared about the people on the Prydwen, but it struck her she’d never grasped just how much.

She stared at Maxson, and he stared back, until slowly, almost reluctantly, he began to relax too.

“The boy stays here,” Maxson said firmly. “He’s lost too much already. To take him away from all he’s known, after losing his parents so soon—it will...he…” Maxson broke eye contact as his voice wavered, and his lips parted around an unspoken word. Then he closed his mouth again and fixed his gaze at the broken glass on the floor.

“It’s not the same as you,” Quinn said gently, and Maxson’s head jerked up in her direction. “He’s miserable here. He wants to go with me. All he’s ever experienced is military procedures and war. He’s lost both of his parents to something he doesn’t understand—something I can’t explain. Not to a ten year old boy. I doubt you understood much of what was happening at his age either.”

Maxson swallowed, pale now. Slowly, he shook his head.

Quinn took a deep breath. “Josh deserves a chance of a normal childhood. Let me take him.”

Maxson’s brow furrowed, but this time he didn’t look away. “He’s been raised by our ideals. If he sees Danse—”

Quinn bit back a grin. “His mother wasn’t as strict on synths as she was supposed to be. She said as much to me when she thought Danse had been executed. I think Josh will be the same. But I’ll talk to him. And if I think he’s...” She bit her lip. “...too Brotherhood, then I’ll leave him in your care.”

Maxson shut his eyes, as if in pain. When he opened them again, though, they were sharp and piercing—his usual glare. “You risked a great deal today to place your trust in me. It’s time I returned the favour. You have my permission to take Squire Cooper, on the condition he is willing to go, and that you believe he will be happy and...and safe.”

Quinn smiled, relief flooding through her. “Thank you, sir.”

Maxson turned back to the window.

“Go.”

#fallout 4 #paladin danse #ss x danse #sole survivor x danse #fallout 4 fanfic #by no constraint #story #writing

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