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leidensygdom · 2 years

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For your Gharmyra campaign, I've got a bunch of questions!

You've run fucking 90 SESSIONS, which is a crazy long game (so congrats to that lmao), so what would be some of your favorite moments to come out of the game? This is both from your players and something they did that was amazing, and from you surprising yourself through a great DM moment!

For your worldbuilding, what's your favorite bit of info? Could be a large thing, could be a small little detail that your players will probably never interact with but you love it anyway!

Finally (there may be more later lmao), I ADORE the crystal and watcher lore you have! Where did the idea come from, and how did it change as you developed it?? I love hearing inspirations and the creative process!! And what's the most tragic/cool/fucked up thing you did with the watchers to your players??

In conclusion, your world's cool as hell, your art's sick as FUCK, and I adore all of your characters!!!

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH YOU'RE SO NICE!!!

Higlights: From a player

There's been a lot of highlights in these 90 sessions. I'll focus a bit on Laestis here, since the other players are no longer in game (because they just don't have the time or drive for dnd anymore). One of the highlights was a bit of a climax that happened after Act 1's end and Act 2's beginning, which was about dealing with her patron's crystallized corpse and retrieving the staff that once belonged to Vest. I even got a commission by the ever-fantastic EllirhShaan from that scene:

A watcher's original, crystallized corpse isn't really more than a bunch of crystal for the most part. Which means that if, unoccupied, someone else can take that over and use it. Vest's "mother" (Solaralith) decided to use it to avoid Laestis from retrieving Vest's crystal staff (seen in the background of the last panel). So, threatening golden watcher is the Solaralith-possesed-Vest-corpse, while friendly looking watcher is Vest's appareance (Which was more ghostly). Getting to settle that down, getting Solaralith vanished for a bit, retrieving a significative weapon that was a next step towards their pact (and in a way, helped giving Vest more physical presence) and leaving behind her current sword (the one that had hosted Vest's seed for all this time (which Laestis took from the sword) was all very climatic!

Highlights: As a DM

On my end, as a DM, I really enjoyed Mythannae's Nightmare arc. Before he became my PC in another campaign, he was a background NPC. He had been a dissident watcher, that lead a group that tried to do exactly the same than the party is trying to do: End the long feud between watchers and avoid the war. And yet, his group failed terribly, which ended with the death of most (or worse-than-death fates) and very few of them surviving the ordeal. I'll explain what is a Nightmare a bit late, but let's say it's somewhere where memories persist so strongly, you can view stuff from the past. And to get information, they visited one related to Mythannae- And got to talk with their memory!

And also fight him (in a friendly manner) to understand the sheet power that the big watchers have. For scale, a token is about the size of these lil gems in the center of the five platforms. I got to do an animated battlemap, which I was very excited about! The fight was tense and fun, the party found out methods to end watchers, they retrieved the weapon that was used to kill Mythannae in the past. Also found out a bit more about a NPC that they had quite a lot of doubts about, who happened to be very close with Mythannae

A bit of lore I enjoy

So, other than the watchers (and a lot of worldbuilding focused on nations, which can be a bit harder to develop in a post like this), the mechanic of the Nightmares was fun and a great way to introduce lore in the shape of a dungeon.

Basically, in this setting, extremely strong memories, if mixed with a magically charged environment, can create Nightmares. They're areas where reality is over-written by the source of these memories: Things change to adapt the past, often creating whole new areas and spaces that can be traversed as if they were physical. Nightmares can be caused by individuals or collectives. They're often chaotic and not completely logical: Events that might have been many years apart (or very far away physically) can happen in 2 rooms one next to the other. It allows the players to have a much more direct view on these events, and even partake in them. Which is always fun to have, since the alternative tends to be a lore dump or giving them lenghty text descriptions.

Usually, they need to face the source of the memories to end a nightmare: It tends to be the person who caused the nightmare in the first place. The first time, they fought a knight of the Ark'Sava from the times they were most tyrannical. The second time, they faced Mythannae. The physical objects that were tied to these were a statue to said knight, and Mythannae's whole corpse.

Here's the Ark'Savan guy : ) his name is Sygdom, he's where I get my nickname from. The nightmares had some mechanics tied to it, related to how long they were in the space, and how involved they got in them: The line of reality and dream got more progressively erased, and the memories started to overwhelm the characters. Mechanically, they could accumulate up to 30 "nightmare points", which had 3 tiers. Each tier meant the dream-stuff around them affected them further, to the point they started to get their views influenced by it. For example, one character started to side more with the Ark'Savans, while another character was more akin to the Ark'Vossians. It affected against enemies and even between them: In the second tier (from 10 to 20), they couldn't end their turn next to each other due to some natural distrust. It was overall a fun bunch of things!

On the watchers

So! Watchers were made originally as part of a lore for a forum. I was given the task to give some lore to a barren land in the map, and I ended up going for "drows" and "crystals". I had no idea what drows were like in DnD canon and just ignored it altogether. Don't regret it. The idea was that, within that setting, drow had thrived and made great advancements, but suddenly disaster struck their main city and most of them perished in the catastrophe, with few survivors running away and scattering across distant caves. They had relied in crystals for technology, but now, they feared it: The crystals were related to the mess, but the survivors weren't sure what went wrong.

Millenia passed, and people kept fearing the magic crystals, never going back to where the catastrophe stuck because it was an extremely dangerous land. But there were almost no records on what did exactly go wrong. And some people were tired of being kept in the dark, of not using a resource that was so invaluable. Something that could give them the chance to fight back much bigger nations, which were all readying for war. These people started to investigate and use the crystals, and their leader travelled to where the catastrophe stuck. He returned with a crystallized arm and much knowledge, including the fact that people in said place had both, feared and yet also adored crystalline creatures. Unknowingly to him, being magically corrupted made him the perfect vessel for watchers, which had caused the accident, and were looking forward to expanding their reach.

THAT was the original lore. It was done when i was 14 years old or so. Then, the forum died down due to drama, and I never got to explore much the lore. I decided to port it (With adaptations) to another forum, but this time, I decided to instead focus on the city that had fallen down due to crystal corruption and watchers: Try to understand what happened before disaster struck. The idea was that, if the lore advanced enough in that forum, the disaster could happen. OR it could be prevented! That's how Gharmyra was born, and how the watchers were further developed. Again, that other forum died (RP forums die like crazy), and I was again left with a lot of lore and nowhere to use it.

(Here's a watcher, to spice up the post : ) ) And that's when, years later, I decided to port it towards a DnD campaign. All these new ports meant refining the lore, cleaning up issues and holes, and detailing things further. A surprising amount of the ideas came from ages ago, but my 14yo worldbuilding was not the best in many regards So I've had a lot of time to polish things and bring them to their current state!

Anyways, this is a very long post already!! I'll get into watcher spooky things in another moment. I hope that does answer most of it though, I appreciate a lot the questions <3 It's giving me an itch to get finally back from the long hiatus!!

#dnd #dnd art #dnd homebrew #homebrew #worldbuilding #watcher #watchers #kalashtar #gharmyra #undead #crystal #drow #dark elf #elf #ttrpg #pathfinder

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sidekick-hero · 2 years

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"What is Mordor?"

So, @lengthofropes posted another gorgeous steddie gifset and I loved the idea so much, I had to run with it. Inspired by this post. (steddie, 2.5k, slightly nsfw)

„So now we just need to sneak into his lair in the Upside Down and drive a stake through his heart.” Eddie doesn’t know her all that well, but he gets the feeling that the tone of sarcasm she is aiming for falls somewhat flat, the words not even close to carrying the necessary bite for it. She sounds rather tired, done. It’s been a long day for all of them.

Robin still seems to take her remark somewhat seriously. At least enough to add “If he even has a heart.” Which Eddie is doubting very much. If Vecna has a heart, it must be black and shriveled up like a prune. Ebenezer Scrouge in really fucking ugly.

Steve, bless his heart, gives his best to impersonate a golden retriever with his confused head-tilt and this goddamn yellow sweater, which looks so soft. Eddie’s hands itch with the urge to touch, to pet. Maybe even call him a good boy, Jesus Christ. He never had a thing for cluelessness before, but despite Eddies best efforts to not let it get to him, Steve Harrington is pushing buttons he didn’t even know he had. “A stake? Like a vamp? Is he a vampire?” Eddie wants to smack himself – or Steve – in the face. Good thing you’re pretty, Harrington.

Red must think the same, given the annoyed look she is shooting Steve. “It was a metaphor.” The Duh goes unspoken but very much heard. Eddie likes her.

“Bullets must work on him, right?” Even though he does not have much experience with killing – contrary to popular belief – he is pretty sure bullets are a bulletproof way to do so. Pun definitely intended.

Well, Lucas also has a point, when he suggests just chopping the bastard’s head off. Eddie likes the idea. Usually, he is not big on violence. Too many times he had been the punching bag. But for what he did to Chrissy, Vecna deserves to suffer. Pity Wheeler must choose this moment to come around with her stupid logic. What a killjoy.

“Yeah, I’d say all of the above, but we can’t do any of that ‘til we find a way into the Upside Down.”

Apparently, everything would be so much easier if they had the magical girl with her superpowers here. At which point his life had become a fucking Marvel Comic he can’t really say but he honestly regrets all the life choices that led him there. As much as he loves fantastical stories and adventures, he very much prefers them to stay in the make-believe realm of things, thank you very much. Also, what is up with Henderson, pacing like a caged animal? “Hey, uh, Henderson’s not, uh, cursed, is he?” Aiming the question at Steve, who is something like the closest thing to a Henderson expert he could find at short notice.

Steve looks slightly surprised at the thinly veiled worry in his voice. “Cursed? No, no. No. He’s fine.” And here he is, Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Being reassured about the well-being of one of the little shrimps he had taken under his wings by no other than King Steve himself. He wonders, not for the first time, how much stranger things could become. Steve carries on. “Mental? Absolutely.”

As if to prove him right, Dustin chooses exactly that moment to yell a resounding “BOOM!” that has them all turn around to him in shock. He then starts to spurt some semi-scientific spiels about compasses and magnetic fields and power sources. Eddie does not really try to keep up, had learned that Dustin enjoyed feeling superior and explaining things to them in a rather annoying know-it-all tone way too much anyway. What he does get is that Henderson has found a way to the Upside Down. The demonic underworld. Oh joy. And he wants them all to follow him there. Steve is not a fan of the idea, which is not so much a surprise in itself. His reasoning, however, somewhat is. “Hey, hey, hey, hey! Eddie’s still a wanted man. We can’t just go for a hike in the woods!” If Eddie didn’t know better, he’d say Harrington cares about his safety? Nah.

Dustin at least is convinced that killing Vecna is the key to saving both him and Max. And so, it is on Eddie to decide. Shit. “What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

Smart little fucker, using the nickname to drive home what is at stake for Eddie here. And now everyone is staring at him. It really is on him. Whatever he says would decide their next steps. He has no idea how the others do it, how Harrington does it, because, according to Dustin he is usually the one running head-first into danger. They should ask him, not Eddie. He is no Aragorn, no Frodo. Certainly, no Samwise, the pilar of strength his friends need to fulfill their life-threatening mission. And yet, he knows what he must do.

“I say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor, which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think is a really bad idea.” Steve is looking at him, nodding encouragement in his direction. Eddie does not know why, if he doesn’t want all of them to go, or if he specifically doesn’t want Eddie to go but either way it is too late. Eddie had made up his mind. “But, uh, the Shire… the Shire is burning.” And with that he gets up from his crouch. “So, Mordor it is.”

Everyone seems to take this in stride, Dustin jumping up and down like they were heading for a great and fun adventure and not to their almost certain deaths. Well, everyone except Harrington, who does not look happy. At all. When Eddie looks him in the eyes, they clear a bit and the confused retriever-look returns. "What is Mordor?"

Was this guy for real? How is someone like Steve friends with a nerd like Henderson? Eddie’s sure he’s missing something here. “Jesus, Harrington.” He couldn’t help the disbelieve in his voice. “Didn’t you read Lord of the Rings in high school?” And maybe it’s mean of him to make it sound like Steve was a total idiot for not knowing lord of the rings but how often has someone like Eddie the chance to have one up on the most popular guy in Hawkins? He should have known it couldn’t last.

“Uh, no, I had sex in high school.”

Game, set and match. Because what is he supposed to say to that? Good for you? I know, I heard all about it? You’d still know what Mordor is if you had had sex with me? So, he says nothing, just gives Harrington a long, heavy look before purposefully striding over to Henderson, who is leading the way to their – he might have already mentioned it – almost certain death. And if he is thinking about Steve and sex and Steve having sex, then that is his business and his alone.

2 months later

They had not walked to their certain death. Well, Eddie had come pretty close, true. Too close for comfort, actually. But I told you so does not seem such an important thing to tell everyone when he is just glad to be alive and in one – if badly scared – piece. Something he has to thank Steve Harrington for. Harrington, who had carried his dying body back into their dimension and driven him to the hospital like the devil himself had been on his heels. Eddie does not remember much and thank God for that. But he remembers whiskey-colored eyes staring into his, begging him to stay, please with a look of such utter despair that Eddie was not sure if his lungs had not collapsed because breathing had been somewhat impossible then. He had blacked out mere seconds later.

They had managed to put him back together and to clear his name. They being some non-descript government puppets. He doesn’t really care one way or another. What he does care about is that everyone has made it out more or less okay. Red and him had taken the brunt of it, with Max having several broken bones and some severe damage to her eyesight. The doctors are still not sure whether her sight will ever be the same as before. But they are alive and awake and out of the hospital. That has to count for something.

What Eddie also cares about is that Steve “The Hair” Harrington has visited him every single day during his six week stay at the hospital. Sometimes he would come in the early morning before his shift at the Family Video store – still standing but mostly out of business while most of the city was still dealing with the aftermath of Vecna’s defeat. Other days, he would sneak in at night, Like a ninja, I told ya, and sit at Eddie’s bedside until Eddie could no longer fight the need for sleep. Steve would be gone when Eddie woke up, but the air would still carry his scent. Sandalwood and something earthy. It was the only proof that these nightly visits really happened, and on his not-so-good days Eddie would still doubt they were real sometimes.

The same way he would still doubt that Steve Harrington, wet dream of a considerable number of this city’s citizens, really did kiss him on the day he was finally allowed to leave the hospital. And that the same Steve Harrington had kissed him again when he had helped Eddie settle into the new trailer that he and his uncle had been issued by said government puppets. And then again the next morning, when they’d woken up together in Eddie’s bed, on his still stain-free-mattress, limbs tangled together, and morning breath forgotten.

Eddie wonders if he had in fact died that day in the Upside Down and this is the afterlife. Not necessarily what he would have expected. Nicer, in a way. Steve is really good at kissing, his lips so, so soft. And those noises. They are what makes him believe that this must be real – no way his brain could come up with something so sweet, so delicious as those noises Steve makes in the back of his throat or deep in his chest whenever Eddie so much as touches him in a certain way.

Like he’s doing just now, fingertips dancing over Steve’s throat; no real pressure behind them, more like an afterthought then any real intent. Still, the keening sound that leaves Steve’s lips is enough for Eddie to lose the script for a while, fingers pressing down firmer before his lips follows them.

He can’t help himself but use some teeth at the delicate skin over Steve’s Adam’s apple. Steve almost throws him off the bed as his hips shoot up, seeking pressure. His hands bury themselves in Eddie’s hair, his grip almost painful but oh so good. Eddie grins against his skin. “Someone likes a bit of pain with their pleasure, huh?”

Steve glares at him. “Shut up, Munson.” The effect is somewhat ruined when he honest to god whimpers as Eddie presses a hand to his groin, which jumps eagerly against his hand like a golden retriever greeting their Master. Such a good boy, he marvels.

“I don’t know if I like your tone, Stevie. You should be nicer to me if you want me to take care of this.” He grinds his hand down against Steve’s erection. Another one of these desperate noises.

“Please, Eddie, I’ll be good, I will be so good – just, please, please – “. More please spill from his lips as Eddie slithers down his body until his face is level with the considerable bulge in Steve’s jeans. He takes a second to press his whole face against it, relishing in the way Steve trashes and sobs and pleads with him to do something. Oh, I will do something, Stevie boy, he thinks.

His fingers work open the button of Steve’s jeans before his eyes find Steve’s. They shine wetly and his look is a bit wild, but the smile he gifts Eddie when their eyes meet is softer than it has any right to be. Eddie is almost sorry about what he is about to do. Almost.

He uses his teeth to draw down the zipper, never breaking eye contact. Steve’s head drops back onto the pillow as he lets out a soft, disbelieving Fuuuck. Eddie’s chuckle is quiet, almost inaudible. He’s so tempted to just go to town on Steve, make him see stars and hear him fall apart on his hands and mouth. But Eddie still has a score to settle.

Eddie takes Steve out, holding the length in hand and just looks at it for a moment. He sincerely hopes he gets another chance to play with it soon. He leans closer, lips almost touching the shiny wet head. Above him, Steve is holding his breath in anticipation, body unnaturally still as he waits for Eddie’s lips to close around him, to take him into the wet heat.

“You know, I just remembered I never really answered your question.” Eddie is so close to Steve’s raging hard on that when his breath hits it, it slightly jumps in his hand. He looks up at Steve, who gives him his best albeit slightly frustrated golden retriever look. “What question?” he asks when it becomes clear that Eddie is not planning on getting on with it sometime soon.

“You asked what Mordor is, silly. And I never explained it to you – which was rather neglectful of me, just leaving a curious mind in the dark like that. I hope you can forgive this rude behavior; it had been a long week, you know?” Steve stares at him with wide, unbelieving his eyes before dropping them down to where Eddie was still holding his neglected erection. “Anyway, Mordor. It’s actually a place, a bad place, hence the comparison to the Upside Down, and – “.

And so, Eddie starts to explain about Sauron and Isildur and the Rings of Power. He talks about Smeagol and Bilbo and Gandalf, his face never leaving Steve’s lap and his eyes never leaving Steve’s. Who is still staring at him, mouth slightly agape in utter disbelieve that this was really happening. After five minutes or so Steve utters “You got to be kidding me. Are you serious right now, dude?” and pushes his hips more firmly in Eddie’s direction. But Eddie would not let himself be deterred. He caries on, talks about the fellowship and elves until Steve has enough.

He grabs Eddie by his upper arms and hauls him upwards before flipping them, effectively pinning Eddie underneath him. Before Eddie even has a chance to come back from the shock, he has Steve’s tongue in mouth. The kiss is demanding, rough. Almost aggressive. The slight smile against his lips however is not. Between one stroke of his tongue and the next, Steve breathes into his mouth “I had that one coming, hadn’t I?”

#steddie #stranger things #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #stranger things fanfiction

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knightofleo · 2 years

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OH HECK ya, I had kind of forgotten about Fuck Buttons and now I'm relistening to the discography due to your recent post. Pray tell, if you have the time, can you suggest any other artists acts with that lovely kind of "wall of distortion" aesthetic. Always looking for more music suggestions... Either way, thanks, love your posts.

OK, so Fuck Buttons had a pretty specific sound so I don’t know if I can find you the exact same thing but some approximate vibes, some close cousins, third-fourth removed etc etc. yeah, sure, we can try.

Probably says itself but just in case, if you haven’t tried Blanck Mass's albums, i.e. literally one half of Fuck Buttons, go there first. World Eater especially pretty much just continued where they left off.

The other half tried to do some singer-songwriter stuff I’m not sure he had quite the range for, I think he said somewhere that he pretty much knew as much himself before he’d even started making anything so what the general idea was, we don’t even know. Anyway.

Less of a cohesive drone and a bit more tangible and percussive but it does nail the same kind of relentless build-up they had. See also Lorenzo Senni’s Scacco Matto for a similar sound taken just a few notches further out.

SNES Final Fantasy boss theme vibes. Anyway, moving on.

A bit brighter and cleaner in sound but the whole (excellent) album got the same "Rocketing towards Mount Olympus (In Space)" energy down pat. (Off topic but the guy also happens to look like Troye Sivan on a protein diet, which kinda took me out)

A bit more of an urban dubstep vibe but do try Dark0′s Zero2 album too. Took me forever to clock he nipped the background vocals from Ariana Grande.

A bit darker, a bit spacier, a bit more of a minor key attitude but we do get the dirty bass and the pounding drone march. See also Clark’s self-titled for a similar if more eclectic (i.e. less unceasingly bleak) trip.

And I can’t get the Bandcamp link to embed properly for the life of me but do also try Nathan Fake's Blizzards, which is fantastic and tragically ended up getting a bit slept on. (The linked track isn't the best example of a Fuck Buttons vibe, to be honest, the previous track Pentiamonds is much closer but that one just slaps too hard, ff.)

Probably my favourite album of the lot, and one of my favourite albums, period. Tragically M.I.A. from streaming at the moment, just vanished one day without notice or explanation, if it's a moral stance or a label issue, we just don't know, but it’s very much worth tracking down.. And if you want to check that sound taken even further into something resembling just plain flat out violence.

Try this maniac.

Reeling it back a bit, this ones a bit softer and gentler but otherwise actually pretty close to their earlier stuff in both structure and mood. Just the whole torrential layered wall of sound.

And there's also Vessel's Queen of the Golden Dogs album, which is, I don't know.

All of the above but make it medieval and bug-fuck crazy, I guess.

#Slow Focus is their best album probably #sumi sumi #long post #i've probably forgotten something obvious but hey #OPN's Garden of Delete had some similarities too I think #i do recommend all of these albums by the way #fuck buttons

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rons-wheezely · 3 years

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224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him.

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.”

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is.

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once.

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…”

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.”

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile.

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love.

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films.

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you.

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?”

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you.

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years

Note

Omg I'm SO sorry!!! I'm the soulmates pain AU anon, I was completely aware you were the one with the milestone!! I saw the post through Molly's rb and I was almost completely sure I had opened your blog to send you the ask but alas, the Tumblr app can never give you any certainties. That long-ass message was completely dedicated to you, I still can't quite grasp how I managed to send it to scribbledghost 🙄🙄🙄 Sorry!!! Congrats again, I love you!!!!

for reference a Din Djarin x reader soulmate request where your soulmate feels your injuries and pain

hello, dear heart!

I wanted to say, before anything else, thank you. I've reread your words multiple times since you sent this, confirming they were to me, and they really mean the world to me. thank you so, so much! anyway, your idea is fantastic, I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope you like seeing what I did with your already wonderful thoughts 💕

ps it's well documented that I'm a big fan of sprawling thoughts, so please never apologize for sharing them!

warnings: mentions canon-typical injuries, a bunch of fluff. at least enough for a couple of throw pillows

soulmate requests / follower celebration

There's a short burn on his forearm when he wakes.

Din stares at it, wondering at the dull ache, trying to place the injury from yesterday's adventure when it hits him. Hot and golden warmth, flooding through his chest, thawing his flesh against the cold filtered air.

It's one of yours.

A burn, on his forearm.

And selfishly, indulgently, he pauses for a moment, mind slipping away from duty and expectations to dwell in the daydream of his soulmate.

First, his mind creates an image of a blurry mandalorian caretaker, gently moving around a kitchen in the covert. You stir a pot, tapping the spoon on the side before setting it down. Hearing distant calls, you turn too quickly and oh - a sliver of burn along your arm.

Din wants to help, wants to pull you away from the domestic .... danger, and he rushes forward. Your helmet turns to him and he almost sees it - before his mind can no longer produce the answers he aches for late at night.

The second image is of you, in armor as gleaming as his own, in a thick, unrecognizable forest. The hairs on his neck are at full attention, already subconsciously wanting to shout - but you don't need his help. You're breathtaking in all versions of his daydream - but watching you fight with practiced ease punches the air from his lungs. For a moment he feels self-conscious of his awkward maneuvers and slapdash fighting but then his mind pulls him back. You're protecting someone, or else you wouldn't have messed up - you never do, injuries from you are too rare - but you shove them behind you, shooting an enemy over your shoulder before your helmet snaps back. There are so many - you're surrounded - and a hot, sharp blaster bolt grazes your forearm before your fury is truly unleashed.

He runs his fingers over the burn, almost giddy at the possibilities.

Mandalorians are few and far between, but he's grateful he has a soulmate, and even more thankful you've kept yourself out of harm's way almost entirely, since you'd been connected.

As he dons his layers, the shine of his armor reflects bruises and scrapes littered across the expanse of his skin. His own, from his journey, and one beautiful little burn from his soulmate.

And then they're covered, and the armor is tied securely in place, and he leaves his daydreams in the room as the ship door slides unceremoniously shut.

You hiss at the burn, clutching your arm.

Great. Just what you needed - another injury to add to your impressive collection.

At least my soulmate gets a gift from me this time. You roll your eyes.

The vendor next to your stall is a sweet lady, already apologizing for her steaming pots and pans and offering you compensation.

The credits would be nice, but you could hardly justify taking anything, especially since it was your soulmate's fault your body was riddled with aches and pains in the first place.

Waving your hand, you accept her counter offer - a bowl of her perfect broth and noodles - before retreating. You sell cloth, from beautiful dyed lengths tucked away to sturdy, unstainable blacks, and it was days like today that you thanked your stars for that choice.

There's a thick pile in the middle that you perch on, sinking into the folds as your body cries at you, and you sigh over your soup in relief. The burden of waking to webbing bruises and sprawling scrapes and the more-than-occasional broken bone is eased by your stall - sitting and haggling until the sun goes down. That is, unless there's drama in the market, as it seems there is today.

In the distance you hear shouts, more than those of vendors selling meat on sticks to passing warriors and merchants - the taunts of drunkards.

Someone is coming, and you almost laugh when you see his form in the distance, because he's trying and failing to be inconspicuous. It's impossible, with his gleaming armor, but still he ducks into shadowy spots, forgetting - or maybe ignoring - their inhabitants.

"A Mandalorian has graced our market," your neighbor remarks dryly. They were respected, but it was well known that chaos followed them. You share a look, both wishing you were wealthy enough to conpletely pack up shop. If anything, a logical person would put away most of the stock and hunker down for a few hours. Weighing the odds was difficult: if you were lucky, the chaos wouldn't bother your business, and shoppers might be drawn out, hoping for entertainment and spending as they waited. If you weren't, a wayward burst of plasma or blaster fire would destroy your whole month's stock.

You looked at him again, the Mandalorian kneeling down the street. His form was... almost handsome, formidable but careful. He was light on his feet, seemingly with gentleness on his mind, and it drew you in like a moth to flame. You decided to stay, and hope for the best, your curiosity pulsing like your bruises.

And you were lucky, that day, because he ducked away not a moment later, taking the exciment with him.

Until, he came back the next day, this time on the prowl, stalking up and down the edge of Dicer's Row, one hand on his blaster and the other atop a bulky, wriggling bag. This time, you ventured to stand, folding and refolding your displays as you watched him through your lashes.

And then he made his move, and you sighed, feigning a yawn to cover your disappointment from your neighbor's knowing smile. She shouldn't be wiggling her eyebrows over the box wall between you - honestly his type were more annoying than anything. A crash from the alley confirmed it: there was no way a guy like that cared about his soulmate. The gentleness from before was surely a trick of the light.

Your whole side lit up with pain, the impact of something hard against your whole side and you groaned, settling into your mound again. Any curiosity or attraction was snuffed under your annoyance and pain, and your mood soured like fruit left unpicked on the tree.

Selfish, you thought, glaring as a chicken ran squawking from the commotion. What a jerk.

The next day, you tried to maintain the sentiment, huffing as he wandered the stalls.

Why does he keep coming back?

You'd have thought his time here was over when he'd dragged that lowlife out of town yesterday. But here he was, buying a crock of soup at the stall next to you, and ignoring her comments about how he couldn't eat it with his helmet on.

She had warmed to him, since he'd put money in her pocket, chattering in a way that kept him stuck for long moments.

It struck you as strange - he almost seemed too awkward to leave, like her returned generosity actually meant something to him. A man like him... surely could've just walked away.

But he stayed for awhile, nodding and looking at the spoons she carved in her free time, and you almost thought he was looking at you, too. Then he ducked his head and planted himself in front of you, and certainly he was.

For all the years you'd spent weaving words to sell your fabrics and goods, you'd never been so speechless. The Mandalorian was large, sharp, shining edges and bulky canvas packs tied to his shoulders - he seemed out of place, filling your whole stall, shuffling as he loomed over you.

He asked for soft brown things - children's clothes.

"Of course, I - I mean, yes, just over here -" you tripped over your words, caught completely off guard by the shape of him, the feel of him just an arms width away, and his request. You stumbled from your seat, nearly toppling in your hurry and his gloved hand wrapped around your arm, catching you.

"You're injured," he stated not really asking. It was... overwhelmingly intimate, him knowing, and acknowledging it, like he cared.

"Yeah, my..." you swallowed, trying not to get lost in the dark glass inches from your face. "My self-centered soulmate keeps getting himself nearly killed."

Even with your heart thumping in your chest, you couldn't keep the bite from your words, bitterness having collected over years of nursing injuries that were consequences of someone else's actions. He didn't let go of you for a moment, his helmet pulling back and tilting, like he was startled.

Then he was cautious, unbearably so, releasing his grip like a child freeing a captured creature when it was time. The topic was dropped, and he made his purchase quickly, but before he left, he paused. The Mandalorian's gloved hand ghosted over your cheek, slowly moving a hair back into it's place, and if you hadn't known better, it was almost an apology.

And then, thick cape swirling in the dust, tiny clothes in tow, he swept away, leaving you along with your whole body alight with a foreign longing.

Din felt as though he'd been stabbed.

Hot, hot feelings poured through his chest, spreading fast as fire as he desperately tried to sort through them.

You - you were incredible, fragile and bruised, with the most stunning, determined eyes he had ever seen. Not a Mandalorian, and you had a ... a soulmate, a fucker who left your skin littered with marks, burdening you with ...

He felt panicked, shocked, and guilty, just as he had when you'd told him. It had never occred to him that his soulmate might be there... out there, constantly burdened by his recklessness. His body screamed for attention, something he so often ignored, but this time, he was almost deafened by it.

His feet, legs, arms, chest, heart - all of them wanted him to return to you, in your little fabric stall. To... what? Truly, he hadn't the slightest idea, so his mind won out, shaking a little to try to reign in the muscles that he'd taught to obey him.

He couldn't go to you.

But, he couldn't stay away.

He was back in the market, and this time, he wasn't being subtle about staring at you.

Tall and ... slow, he waded through the crowds, making his was towards you like he was following a careful path.

"Can I help you?" You stood, moving almost involuntarily towards him. "Was there something wrong with my -" he was already shaking his head, hands reaching to make you shush.

Waiting, an irrational part of your mind wished he would touch you again, would place his big hands on your skin and sooth the aches that haunted your life. It was unfair, but you didn't stop it, couldn't if you tried.

Carefully, he slid a single finger to your arm, pushing up your sleeve to reveal the little burn you'd gotten.

He was being gentle. It made you want to stomp your feet, jealously welling up in your heart like bile, bitter and hot. How could it be, that someone so powerful had learned so quickly, wanted to, and he wasn't - he wasn't even your -

Then he moved again, pushing up his own sleeve and your thoughts tumbled over each other. It was intimate, even more than before, desperately trusting, as his skin near glowed in the morning light. And there was a burn on his skin, hairs singled like they'd met the edge of a pot of boiling broth.

You wanted to punch him. This man has spent years tossing his body around like he had one one spare, making your own as brittle as bread crust and - you wanted to kiss him. This man had learned after a single day, the impact of his actions, and had been nothing but kind.

The forehead of his helmet pressed into yours, and the two sides of your mind compromised.

Later, words would come - they had to.

But now, your eyes closed, and you sighed. He had the rest of your life to make it up to you - and he would, you were sure.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk @saradika @zinzinina

#din djarin x reader #soulmate requests #anonymous and elle #elle only posts soulmate rqs at weird hours thats the rule

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dourpeep · 3 years

Note

i have even more ideas now...

what about like the moment you open up about your relationship with kazuxiao the fans who were already seeing that happen were celebrating and on both of y'alls insta or something is where you announce and it's like a picture of all 3 of you chilling together or something

and then when they finally appear on a variety show they're just questioned throughly and they talk about how you guys meet and what they like about you

ok but the moments where you just feel sort of insecure since being an idol is hard and you're technically dating your seniors and you're just hit by the antis who are against yourself relationship so you lock yourself in your room in your dorm by yourself to cope. your roommate (can be whoever) contacts them both and they immediately come over and come in and offer soft kisses and soft murmurs of reassurance that they'll never leave you and that everything's gonna be ok.

side note i can see xiao just being a whole meme without realizing?? for like variety shows he's just known for his dead pan expression and then i can see him being so competitive on shows like running man..mans ripping tags left and right, while kazuhas just hiding in a weird spot or something

kazuha on the other hand i can see him being a troll, he likes to mess around with the hosts of the show and manages to mess up some of their plans, he also likes messing with his group members, where xiao likes to say that kazuha looks innocent but is a part of the devil line with venti

onto albedo i can see him like answering questions in his vlive and fans realize that a lot of his songs are more romantic and sort of pining?? and they're asking where the motivation is from. he answers that it's just something that he saw recently so he felt motivated (it wasn't the fact that he had realized that he was 100% in love with you)

but like all of this mans inspiration comes from you, he's had multiple songs dedicated to you before your relationship was even open to the public, and when your relationship finally does, it just clicks for fans and it suddenly makes sense, your ship name trends worldwide for the day

but how you and albedo met, i can see both of you guys being in the industry already and you guys are sort of know each other but it was for a one time off collab with other artists involved so you didn't really talk with each other. like i said before albedos a solo artist while i can see you being a part of a popular group already. but then both of your companies decided to do another collab and especially picked you two since you guys already worked on a collab before.

at first it was like awkward since albedos really socially awkward but then things click when you guys start writing the song together. everything just matches so well?? and you guys just compliment each other?? and that's when you learn of albedo just staying at the studio so late so you often bring food. this leads to you guys getting closer and albedo even stops his work just to talk to you more. when your song comes out and everyone is waiting for the stage, there's just so much tension?? but the good kinda and everyone is awed by the song and the vocals coming from you and albedo.

i can also see the both of you guys appearing on variety shows together too, like appearing on a show where you two travel to another place and experience the culture there, with albedo being your tour guide and showing you all the famous places (one of the many times where fans were awed by his research and knowledge) and then if you guys were to appear together again after you guys reveal your relationship, a lot of the times they show idols as they wake up, they'll see you and albedo being clingy af to each other.

on another side note, albedos totally a troll on variety shows, he likes messing around with the hosts and other contestants since a lot of the time he's not really interested in the show itself, it's more for publicity. however, when he first appeared on a show with you fans noticed that he actually seemed interested for once and that's where your ship name started.

albedos totally a golden child tho, he's like basically perfect in everything so a lot of the times variety shows don't catch him slipping, however the one time that he did was when you were mentioned, the clip of with his ears bright red was trending for a couple of days :)

GIVING ME SO MUCH GOOD FOOD THANK YOU ANON

I think that this covers everything hehehe so I won't add to-

wait wait I put it all under the cut b/c it's a lot again-

Okay okay but like for the 'announcement' picture, what if it's like those photo booth pics (but like each picture you need to scroll through like on Insta) where it's cute and wholesome! The three of you are having fun wearing some silly glasses or hats, doing peace signs or finger hearts....and the very last photo is the three of you sharing a kiss- or, at least trying to.

It's sweet, a little silly, and most of your fans take it really well! After all, they can see the chemistry that you share and can't deny that the three of you would have a good relationship.

As for the insecurities of dating your seniors, Kazuha and Xiao are quick to knock back any of those worries. They love you so, so much and hate the fact that something like that makes you doubt for a single second. If anyone ever tries to bring it up, you know that they're going to immediately quip back.

Naturally, you're roomed with Venven :D He's technically an up-and-coming after he stopped doing idol stuff for a few years, so not only does he know the ropes, but he's also one of your biggest fans and biggest supports (outside of Kazuha and Xiao).

Though he's silly and light-hearted, he's quick to recognize when things are serious and need handling.

So as soon as he sees that you're not doing so great or if he notices the comments on your posts are going in a bad direction, he speed dials Xiao and the two of your boyfriends are right at the door in under 15.

Not only are they fast about it, but they have all your favorite snacks, a movie or two, some popcorn, and a ton of love and affection because they'll be damned if their love is going to be affected by some asshole's comments about their love life! What do they know anyway??

Actually this all could work too if Kazuha and Xiao are part of 4NEMO-

Hmmm

That'd cause so much more ruckus- not only is half of one of the most popular idol groups are taken, but by the same person??? And each other??? Man, that's wack.

BUT THE GAMESHOWS

Xiao would most certainly be super intense with those. He just can't help it--competition drives his blood and makes something snap in him. He's dead serious about doing well, regardless of the game. I actually have never watched said game shows, but--

Like...he's out for blood. No one is safe. Not even you or Kazuha if you're on opposing teams, though he'll be a bit more gentle. Maybe even with the hint of a smile while you have an expression of utter shock at the fact that he's just so fast-

Or if it's not a game show and instead you're doing some sort of idol group activity with a few others to get to know each other?

Someone suggests ping pong and, knowing how competitive Xiao gets, he's pitted up against Tartaglia and man. That's scary. There's no doubt that someone would clip the video and make it into an overly-dramatic retelling complete with music.

Hilarious.

As for Kazuha! He'd be a bit of a mish mosh! He enjoys poking fun at others, and he's so sly! Those poor hosts don't realize that he's goading them on, but sure enough--he is. Who knew that his charming smile and mild-mannered attitude could be so devastating?

But even then, he's mostly wholesome! There's a lot of little clips, mostly of your doing, of him in a 'kiss the chef' apron getting caught off guard while cooking something up. The videos aren't great because you're giggling while recording and he ends up placing the ladle down calmly before wrapping you up in his arms. Half the video ends up being the two of you laughing and joking while it's pointed at a weird angle towards the counter.

Sometimes it'll point just right and you'll get a half-blurred view of Xiao sitting at the kitchen island with his reading glasses perched on his nose and book forgotten. He tends to get up and join in for a few smooches before reminding Kazuha of the food that's still cooking.

Albedo!! He absolutely is the golden child. He's fantastic handling things under pressure in a cool, calm manner. Handsome, charismatic, incredibly smart--man's hit all the stops and just keeps going.

It's not until it comes out that the two of you are together that his cool façade (hardly one, though) falters and at the mere mention of you, he'll go soft. There's a tenderness in his eyes, a small smile on his lips, and his blush? Absolutely adorable. How can anyone object when he's obviously so in love with you?

And the idea you mentioned with the two of you traveling and experiencing stuff together sounds so cute (':

He particularly enjoys exploring new cuisine, so expect him to feed you some food from his plate-

There's also a few times where you two have gotten lost in the new places, more because you're both so busy taking in the sights to realize you've taken five wrong turns- But then you make it into a whole adventure, foregoing the map and deciding to wander around. What better way to discover and learn about somewhere than getting lost and wandering?

You find quite a few hidden gems this way since otherwise you'd be hitting more popular areas!

Wait- do they really show idols waking up???

Ahh regardless, Albedo's definitely a cuddler. He loves it, can't get enough of it. It's not often that he gets a good night's rest, but with you it seems like he's fully recharged and ready for the day! It's cute too because it doesn't matter--big spoon or little spoon, you on his chest or him resting on yours. Even a few times with you facing each other with your hands intertwined.

I also agree that Albedo would mess with the game show's hosts and contestants. Not only would he, but he'd be entirely smug about it (after all, we need to have that #smugbedo going on).

No doubt, there's been times where the cameras even focus/zoom in on him where he's sitting because he's got that smirk on his face.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Melted Mask

awitchbravestheverge prompt: I don't know if you're still taking prompts but you are a master of hurt/comfort and would sell you my soul for some of that for Janus. Maybe where he's feeling insecure or like he's worn out his welcome post acceptance, or maybe a little touch starved, or both. Preferably with Virgil or Patton as the comforter, but if not thats ok. I just have a never-ending need for fic where people are soft and gentle with the snake boy, and I love everything you write with my whole heart

Thanks for the request, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: DLAMPR, focus on anxceit and moceit, can be platonic or romantic you decide I don’t mind

Warnings: uhhh sympathetic deceit and remus

Word Count: 4804

“How many masks of your own face are you currently wearing?”

“At least four.”

Between the gloves, the cape, and the hat, there’s not an awful lot of Janus that is seen most of the time. Not that he particularly minds. There is a certain benefit that layers upon layers of clothing provides. One, they’re perfect for concealing his cane—the others always look so surprised when he summons it from nowhere. Two, he is Dark Side, thanks to Roman’s fantastic naming system. There is an aesthetic standard that must be met. What was he going to do, show up in some ratted old hoodie?

Three, well—there is an awful lot to look at. If the others are focused on the clasps at his throat, the shock of the yellow gloves, the logo hidden under the black fabric, they’re not looking at him.

If they were, they’d see his scales.

He is the only side with a visible animal trait, after all. The scales cover the left side of his face, down beneath his collar. He doesn’t mind the stares—come on, it’s so easy to catch them off guard, how could he?—but sometimes he does wonder if they’ll ever get used to it.

To him.

The scales are a reminder. That he’s different. That he’s not like them. He’s not like the others, he doesn’t look like Thomas, at least not to the extent that they do. Thomas doesn’t have golden scales along the side of his face. Thomas doesn’t have a mouth that curves up along his cheek. Thomas doesn’t have a slit-eye pupil. No, no, Thomas is normal.

How dreadful.

Then, of course, there are the lies.

‘Deceit.’ Such a funny word. And so…polarizing.

‘Deceitful,’ ‘dishonest,’ ‘dastardly’—lot of ‘d’s, here, hmm?—all of the words that just mean he’s a liar. And lying must be bad, right? So it follows logically then, because we simply adore logic in this house, that he must be bad.

He’s not to be trusted, he’s a liar. He’s not honest, he’s a liar. They have to double and triple-check everything he says because he’s a liar.

They always conveniently seem to forget that you can always trust a dishonest person to be dishonest. It’s the truthful ones you have to watch out for.

Janus knows he’s a liar. Frankly, he’s quite proud of it. He’s gotten very good at it too; twisting the words together just right in order to tug slightly at a heartstring there, block off just a little rationality there, get the job done. The others always get caught up in his words, too busy focusing on the minutia of it, the details, leaving him free to step around them and speak to Thomas.

They see the gloves, they see the scales, they see the lies.

They see the masks.

Oh, sometimes he’ll put on a little bit more of a show if he needs to make a point, if the normal masks aren’t quite enough to get Thomas to listen. He’ll tie a hoodie around his shoulders, push a pair of glasses up his nose, knot a tie around his neck. Problem is…those ones are a little easier to see through. No matter how hard he tries, all of his disguises end up being a self-portrait.

Which is how he ended up here.

“You know the rules,” Patton says, his hands on his hips, “no impersonating others outside of filming!”

Janus rolls his eyes and idly flicks a speck of dirt off one of his gloves. “Oh, please. You don’t want me to do it during filming either.”

“No, I don’t, but we made a compromise, kiddo, now we both have to stick to it.”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure the others will be relieved to hear so.”

“What have we said about impersonations?”

He sighs. “The others may be idiots—“

“Oi!”

“—but idiots are also deserving of respect,” Janus finishes, glancing at Virgil draped over the back of the couch. “And I would never dream of being anything less than perfectly respectful.”

Virgil snorts. “What do you even get out of it anyway?” He sits up a little straighter. “Wait, you haven’t been tricking Roman into telling you how to impersonate us better, have you?”

“Now why would I do that?”

“Janus!”

“What? Like you don’t make a habit of going to the others for advice.”

“There’s a difference between openly asking for it and tricking them into giving it to you.”

Janus levels a stare at him. “I suppose there is, isn’t there?”

“Hey!” Patton steps between them. “That’s enough.”

“Oh, well—“ Janus makes a show of resettling his cape—“if you say so.”

Patton sighs. “Janus, we are trying, okay? You heard Thomas, you’re…well, you’re more welcome now.”

“And you’re doing a marvelous job of that.”

Patton doesn’t quite deflate, but it’s close. “Well, maybe we could all try a little harder.” He gives Janus a pointed look.

“Yes, I’m sure my efforts will be richly rewarded.”

“Well, you could start by showing up as yourself more often.”

“Myself?” Janus gasps theatrically, putting a gloved hand to his scales. “Who’s that?”

“Dude,” Virgil sniggers—Virgil did always appreciate his sense of humor—“how many masks of your own face are you currently wearing”

“At least four.”

Patton lets him go with another verbal slap on the wrist and Virgil flips him off. Janus sinks out, striding down the hallway near his room. It’s quieter here. The walls hum a little less. He can think.

He hadn’t gone to Roman to gets tips on his acting. He’d gone because Roman doesn’t want to talk to Janus.

Janus, the liar. Janus, the manipulator. Janus, the Dark Side.

Janus shuts the door of his room and instinctively slumps, the cape hanging off his shoulders. He knows Patton means well, and Virgil’s…Virgil, but sometimes it stings a little more than it should. Not that the others will ever see it.

He’ll never forget the look on Thomas’s face when Logan said he was the side that acts with the one priority of self-preservation. Of how it instantly demonized the idea of protecting yourself. Of Thomas keeping himself safe.

He looks at his hands, sees the gloves. They still don’t fit quite right, even after all these years. He can’t get the seams to run down the sides of the fingers, not curve around to the front or the back. It really shouldn’t be this difficult. Especially considering how much use he’s gotten out of them.

Lying kept Thomas alive. It kept him safe. He helped keep Thomas safe. When Virgil couldn’t breathe, when Logan faltered, when Patton froze, Janus would quietly make his way over to Roman and whisper a suggestion. Just a suggestion. To lie. To keep Thomas safe. To get them out of here. And it saved them. So many times.

Janus walks over to the mirror. It’s a fairly modest thing; about the size of a small sink, oval, large enough so he can see himself completely if he takes a few steps back. He ignores his own face and reaches for the golden latch on the side. He turns it.

The cabinet swings open to reveal a dark velvet interior with several small podiums. Each has a thin mask laid atop it. They gleam in the low light of the room. Janus reaches out and carefully makes sure each is perfectly centered. As he does so, his gloves linger on the fine print beneath the podiums.

Everyone has masks. Versions of themselves to present to the world when they need to. A mask that keeps you safe, a mask that keeps you alive, a mask that has the courage to speak when you don’t. The mask they wear around their homophobic relatives, the mask they wear when they need to make a phone call, the mask they wear when they need to pretend they’re something they’re not.

Janus is very, very good at making masks.

He never wears these. These are for Thomas. When Thomas needs help, Janus slips one of these out of the cabinet and sets it on the desk in front of the mirror. He looks at it, then at the mirror, and works. These masks are what helps Thomas.

He shuts the cabinet with a decisive click, suddenly confronted with his own face.

Janus is so good at making masks that he doesn’t even need a mask to wear one.

A mask because you’re the bad guy. A mask because you can never be trusted. A mask because when you try to be vulnerable they won’t listen. A mask because they don’t want you, they want the character that you embody to survive.

He pities the others sometimes. They don’t have these masks and they hurt. They can’t distance themselves, pull away just a little more, embody a role so that when it’s over, when they’re safe again, they can take it off and breathe. But they don’t. So they just get hurt. Over and over and over.

Janus’s lips involuntarily curl up into a snarl. The hand on the mirror closes into a fist.

They’re not supposed to get hurt. That’s not how this is supposed to work.

He’s not supposed to hurt them.

Part of him argues that he has to. If he keeps working the way he’s been working he can get right to Thomas, who is who needs the most protection. If he tries to do it their way they risk Thomas getting hurt and Janus won’t have that.

Part of him whispers that this is good for them. If he can make them a little tougher, help them get thicker skin, they’ll be safer. And then it won’t matter if they hate him. They’ll be safe. That’s all he cares about.

The rest of him—

…well, the rest of him is currently the reason he’s having trouble looking in the mirror right now.

The problem with wearing so many masks is that it becomes harder and harder to figure what’s the mask and what’s not. And he’s gotten so good at making them that now…now he doesn’t have to think about it.

A mask for when Logan asks to debate about philosophy. A mask for when Remus wants him to help him and Roman make something new. A mask for when Patton wants to bake. A mask for when Virgil comes to him for help.

A mask for all of them. A mask for none of them.

Janus doesn’t want to wear the masks all the time. He wants them to be warm, to care, to smile when he comes into the room, or even ask where he is. He wants to laugh as Patton smears batter all over his nose accidentally. He wants to listen to Logan ramble about some new advancement in quantum gravity. He wants Virgil to come plop down next to him while everyone else is in the living room. He wants Remus to stay with him while they watch the others get into ridiculous fights over board games. He wants Roman to not be afraid to come talk to him.

He wants.

Janus is selfish.

But he isn’t stupid.

He knows they don’t want him. He knows they don’t want him, even without the masks. Deep down, he knows they don’t need him either.

But Thomas does.

So here Janus will stay, in the dark, in the cold, wearing too many masks of his own face to keep count.

—————————————————————

The Mindscape is cold. It never quite feels solid. Drafts blow in and out of the walls, through the little gaps in the floor, from places that Janus can’t find, no matter how many times he looks for them. He bundles himself up in his cloak and his hat and does his best to hold still, sink in as much warmth as he can. He sneaks up behind the others, pressing himself up near them, purring in their ears, just to snatch their body heat. They always shove him away with flustered protests and blushy little faces. They’re so adorable.

Plus, he knows that’s all he’s ever really going to get from them.

But he’s cold, goddamnit. Why do they keep the air conditioning so high in this house? Snakes are cold-blooded. They get slow. Lethargic. Hypothermic, if it gets very bad.

Janus can’t afford to be slow.

So he wears his gloves, his cape, his hat. He stands opposite the window so he can get the most sunlight. He finds the patches of warmth where none of the others will find him and he can curl up for the warmth he needs...

…and fine, maybe it’s a little more than just being cold.

The others are…touchy. Patton throws his arm around just about everyone. Bumps his hip against theirs. Pats their shoulders, squeezes their hands, kisses their cheeks. Roman sweeps people into his arms, pulls them in for hugs, keeps an arm around their waists for as long as he’s allowed. Remus can and will just tackle whoever he wants. Logan holds himself a little further away, but even he’ll lay a comforting hand on someone’s arm. Janus will admit he was shocked when Virgil started exhibiting spider characteristics. That Side is a cat and you will not convince him otherwise. And everyone knows if a cat falls asleep on you, you’re not allowed to move until it wakes up.

Not that Virgil has fallen asleep on him recently.

Janus is not too proud to admit that at first, he didn’t want their touches. He had a job to do, he didn’t need to be distracted. But now…now he does.

He sees the way they move around each other and it stings. The accidental brushes he gets from standing too close or when they aren’t thinking about it sear through layers and layers of clothing to burn into his skin. When he stays close to them—close, but not too close—his whole side begins to tingle, reaching for them, their warmth, for them. But now it’s too late. His mask is already firmly in place and they know Deceit hates being touched.

That’s another reason for the layers. For the gloves.

Janus knows that if they ever touch him directly, skin to skin, his mask will shatter. And that is too dangerous to risk. With his gloves, his cape, his hat, his masks, the only way that would happen is if one of them tried to touch his face.

And that is certainly very likely indeed.

The clothes give him a barrier. A last line of defense. No touch is better than unexpected touch.

But that doesn’t stop him from being cold.

He can tell it’s going to happen when he can’t quite close his fingers around the end of his staff in the middle of their conversation. His gloves don’t catch on the wood quite right and he has to fumble to grab it properly. He glances up. No one’s looking at him.

Are they ever?

He tucks his hands smoothly out of sight, frantically burrowing them into his cloak to see if they’ll warm up. He locks his knees. No good. His fingers start to hurt as he flexes them. They’re still not moving faster. It’s cold.

He glances at the clock. Two minutes. He can last two minutes. Or so he thinks, until his jaw starts to clench. He clenches it harder, ignoring the protest from his neck, his shoulders, trying to make it stop. He takes a deep slow breath and tries to relax, to stop his muscles from tensing. It works, barely.

One minute.

His hands aren’t responding properly. He can barely move his fingers. He just needs to get out of here. If he gets out of here he can get warm. He has his electric blanket, he has everything he needs. He just needs to leave.

Thirty seconds.

The conversation draws to a close and Janus nods deeply, tossing one last barb over his shoulder as he sinks out, only to collapse in the hallway as soon as he does. A draft flows out right next to his shoulder, freezing fingers dancing up his arm, along the back of his neck, diving into his collar to snatch more of his warmth. He curses, heaves himself to his feet, and makes it to his room. It’s so cold.

Something tugs in his chest. No, no—!

“I suppose there must be a good reason for summoning me back,” Janus drawls, snapping his gloves right back into place as he appears in the living room.

Patton and Virgil stare back at him. Patton fidgets with his hands. “W-well, we, uh, I had a question for you.”

Damn. “Well.” Janus spreads his arms, trying to play off how slow he’s moving for dramatic effect. “I’m here. Ask away.”

“I, uh, a few days ago you mentioned that you didn’t feel as welcome here.” Patton looks at him with such an expression of sincerity that it makes Janus’s tongue itch. “And I wanted to know what I could do to help.”

“Aren’t you sweet?”

Patton won’t be deterred, it seems. He stares at Janus, resolute as ever. It’s so cold in here he’s going to start slurring in a moment.

“Janus?”

“That is my name, yes.”

“Are you…are you feeling alright?”

Janus gestures to himself, movements growing slower by the second. “I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Slow. Too slow.

Patton frowns. He gives him a look. “You don’t seem like you normally are, are you sure?”

“I am entirely in one piece.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Honey, if you’re looking for a straight answer, I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Virgil moves. Right, Virgil was here too. Janus is slow. Too slow. He can’t move. He can’t get away. His mask forms a bored expression on his face, quirking an eyebrow. Virgil approaches him and holds out a hand. A cold part of Janus’s chest leaps.

The lips of the mask part. “And what exactly do you intend to do with that?”

“This,” Virgil mutters, and cups the side of Janus’s face.

Everything stops.

Distantly, he feels Virgil’s hand leave his face. Hears something about being too cold. Sees a blur of blue rush away. But all he can focus on is—

Warm. Virgil touched you. Warm. Warm. So warm. Keep the mask on. Don’t let the mask slip. Warm. If the mask slips everything will be ruined. Warm. Don’t you remember how to take the mask off? Virgil. Patton. Warm.

“Janus? Janus!”

Janus blinks. Virgil is still standing in front of him. There’s a little wrinkle between his brows. The mask is frozen in place, iced into a neutral expression.

“Hey,” Virgil says quietly, “you’re freezing, bud. You gotta get warm.”

Janus can’t speak. The mask is so cold.

“You remember what happens when you get too cold,” Virgil continues, taking a step closer. Janus can’t move. Virgil’s frown deepens and he tilts his head. “What’s going on, Janus, you don’t normally let it get this bad.”

Yes, Virgil, we’re aware.

“You could’ve asked, dude,” Virgil says, taking another step closer, a little exasperation mingling with the concern, “any of us.”

The mask smirks. Barely. “Yes, because I’m sure everyone would be so willing to cuddle me so I could steal their body heat.”

“You don’t know that.” The mask doesn’t move. Virgil glances over his shoulder. When he speaks next, his voice is lowered to a whisper.

“You don’t have to keep that on right now, Jan,” he says quietly, “it’s okay. It’s just me. I know you. You can…you know. Emote and stuff.”

Janus huffs a laugh. It’s weak.

“You ever wear a mask so long you forget how to take it off?”

Vigil pauses. “Huh?”

“Ever pretended to be something for so long you forget which is real and which isn’t?” Janus’s smile turns sad. “Made yourself believe it too?”

Virgil’s eyes close for a second. When he opens them, the concern in his gaze takes the last of the warm breath from Janus’s lungs. “Does this have anything to do with…?” He waves in Janus’s direction.

Janus nods, slowly, so slowly. “I can’t. Because I’ve been…I’ve been trained out of it. I built my masks to hide behind. And now I can’t take them off.”

“And we haven’t been good about helping you do that, huh.” He sounds so tired. He’s been through so much…

“I’m…”

The mask won’t let him apologize.

Like they would ever accept it.

“No, no,” Virgil says, “don’t apologize. You aren’t to blame for what you’ve been put through.”

Oh, Virgil…

Virgil glances over his shoulder. Then he shakes his head. “Just…look, go.”

“What?”

“I know this isn’t the time to talk about stuff. You’re not in any sort of shape to do that and Patton will understand. Go get warm.” He gives Janus a pointed look. “You take care of yourself first, okay?”

He tries. He goes back to his room and buries himself in blankets, in pillows, in more layers than he can stand. The pressure is good but it’s still so cold. The weight of the electric blanket is nothing compared to the warmth of Virgil’s hand. Everything in here smells sterile, clinical, detached. It’s all so cold.

You take care of yourself.

The last sentence rings through his head late at night. He wants. But everyone’s probably asleep by now, and god knows they need to sleep. Surely it’ll be alright if he just goes to the living room? That’s not too far, right?

There’s a fire going in the fireplace—since when did they have a fireplace? And there’s someone sitting on the couch. Hmm. Maybe if…if he’s quiet, if he doesn’t make too much noise, he can slip in and soak up some of the warmth.

Virgil turns around.

“Hey, Janus,” he murmurs, standing, and comes over to him. “Can’t sleep?”

Janus shakes his head. It’s warm in here, but he’s still cold. Virgil can see that, apparently.

“Here,” he says, handing him a cup of tea that appeared out of thin air, “drink. It’ll warm you up.”

Janus takes it cautiously. Isn’t it Virgil’s? There’s no way Virgil would’ve know Janus was coming…right?

“This is my third one, figure I should let you catch up first.”

He gestures to the couch, an encouraging smile on his lips.

“Sit. C’mon”

Janus does, sinking into the plush couch and cradling the warm mug in his hands. The couch groans as Virgil sits next to him. He can feel Virgil just out of reach, just there…

“I like watching the fire,” comes a low voice from next to him as he sips the tea. “Helps me think. Or stop thinking.”

He keeps talking in that low voice and the warm tea flows through Janus, sapping the cold slowly away from his body.

Distantly, he feels someone steering him down onto the couch, and heavy arms around him.

“Or maybe you just need a cuddle. Go to sleep, Janus.”

—————————————————————

“ — stop twitching, Remus! You’ll make a mistake!”

“Stop tugging his arm all over the place and then you won’t.”

“Will you two pipe the fuck down? You’re gonna wake him up.”

“Says the loudmouth!”

“Roman, stop it.”

“Stop moving his arm!”

What is…? He’s lying on something. It’s warm, really warm. It smells like…coffee, makeup, and…cinnamon? He shifts slightly, and oh he slept on his neck wrong. A low groan escapes his throat.

His pillow stiffens. “Shit. He’s awake.”

“Good going, Remus.”

“You were the one yelling!”

“Shut the fuck up, both of you.” The chest underneath him vibrates. “Shh, snake-face, go back to sleep. You’re alright. Go back to sleep.”

Janus shifts again, trying to look around, but he’s held down by another strong arm. A hand cards itself through his hair—where’s his hat? “Shh, be still, buddy, you’re okay. Can’t we get you back to sleep?”

“What…’s going on?” His tongue feels heavy, swelling up in his mouth.

“I believe the chances of getting him back to sleep will increase if you tell him what you’re doing.”

It’s…Logan? He appears, fuzzy but definitely there, over the back of the couch. Janus tries to turn to make it easier to see him but his right arm is pinned and he can’t move—

“Easy, J, easy, shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re safe, just keep your arm nice and still, okay?” Virgil, it’s Virgil he’s lying on, runs his hand through his hair again. “I’m pretty sure Roman would pitch a fit.”

“Hah.” Roman snorts from somewhere close to the ground. “If this got ruined, yours would be too.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on going last,” Remus says, “this wouldn’t’ve been an issue.”

And then he feels it. Something is drawn sharply across his right wrist.

“Shh, shh, Janus, breathe, breathe, you’re okay, damnit, Princey, stop! You’re making him freak out!”

It’s gone, the contact is gone. His arm is still hanging over the edge of the couch but it’s held there by Virgil’s arm and another hand.

“Hey there, Snakey.” Remus appears over Virgil’s shoulder. “You’re okay. We’re just making sure you’re okay.”

Roman snorts. “There’s something wrong with how you phrased that.”

Then suddenly Patton appears out of nowhere and doesn’t surprise him at all. Luckily, or unluckily, Janus is far too exhausted and disoriented to react more than rucking up the fabric of Virgil’s hoodie a little. Patton looks at the couch.

“There isn’t room, Pop-star,” Virgil says, lazily stretching so his bulk takes up all of it, moving slow enough so Janus isn’t jostled too much. Then Virgil yelps and their lower bodies are lifted and he can feel the couch sag under another body.

“What the hell, Pat.”

“Now there’s room.” Patton reaches up and ruffles Virgil’s hair.

There are so many people and it’s warm but why are they all here? Did he miss something? Does he need to leave?

“Looks good,” Patton says, interrupting his train of thought, “it’s coming along well.”

Logan clears his throat. “Would someone like to inform Janus about what exactly ‘this’ is?”

“Oh, right, sorry, Snakey,” Remus says, crouching back down, “let’s show you.”

Virgil turns over slowly, lifting his arm and using the leverage to shift Janus onto his chest. “Jeez, Janus, you’re light. Patton, have we been feeding him enough?”

“I suspect there’s been a lack of communication, kiddo.”

“Now is not the time to yell at him, Patton,” Logan says quietly.

“I’m not yelling! But yes, now is not the time.”

Virgil coaxes his head to one side, and Roman lifts his arm by the back of his hand.

Janus’s mouth drops open.

There are little animals drawn on his right arm, from his wrist to his elbow. There’s a navy cat, simple and clean, near the vein. A light blue frog with little glasses. A purple and black spider. A green octopus with large black tentacles. And an unfinished red dragon right near his wrist.

“If I could finish,” Roman asks softly.

“Alright, calm down, here.” Remus lowers his arm and holds it steady. Roman puts the brush back to his arm and starts painting again. Virgil and Remus start arguing about something, probably, but he can’t focus on anything besides the soft bristles of the brush on his arm, the rumble of Virgil’s chest, and the warmth of the weight on his legs.

Logan stands behind his head. “You don’t need to wear a mask here, Janus,” he says softly, “not unless you want to.”

No one else hears him except for Patton. He gives Janus’s leg a squeeze.

It’s warm. It’s so warm.

He wants to watch as Roman paints the dragon but he’s tired but he doesn’t want to sleep yet…not just yet.

Patton reaches towards his face. His finger lands on his forehead and drags gently down the bridge of his nose.

What…?

Oh.

As he follows his touch, Janus’s eyes drift closed.

It’s so warm.

And a warm hand on his cheek wipes the last of the mask away.

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conchshell · 2 years

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What advice would you give a person who wants to write fanfic for Tua, but have no confidence or is afraid that the work is not good, not comparable to all your greats fics?

Oh gosh!!! Firstly, thank you for thinking they're worth reading, it means so much!! 💛💛💛 Secondly, I am nowhere near great! I mean don't get me wrong, I'm proud of what I put out there, but I know that even in a few months time I'm going to look back on them and think yikes!

I think a lot of confidence comes from practice. Prior to writing for tua on AO3 I used to write a lot of stories for The Moral Instruments on Fanfiction (42 of them to be precise), and let me tell you, they are absolutely awful; the kind of thing like "He looked at her with his chocolate orbs" 😂

But anyway, I thought I would write down some tips that I wished I knew when I was first starting out. This ended up being much longer than I anticipated so I've put it under a 'read more', I hope you don't mind!

1) Read! Novels or fanfiction or short stories, just read! I like to look at the fics with the highest hits in the fandom and take my time enjoying them. What aspect of it is unique? Does the author have a style of writing that is enjoyable? How do they pace out the scenes? What is their dialogue to description ratio?

2) Having someone else to bounce ideas off. For me, the wonderful Steph over at @golden-wreath has been a great help, she's always listening to my au's and giving me advice. It's nice having someone there that you can talk to regarding your ideas! And if you want someone to talk to, don't hesitate to message me off anon - I'm always happy to chat!

3) Write for yourself and not other people. I mean we've probably all been there, getting that sweet sweet validation in the form of stats and comments is always nice. But at the end of the day fanfiction has got to be a fun activity, and I always think readers can sense when the author has enjoyed the process.

4) If you are struggling to come up with ideas, prompt generators are your friend. I know I used websites such as this and this when I was first starting out, they're great for just writing small ficlets and experimenting around with styles.

5) If you're hesitant about putting yourself out there, posting anonymously on AO3 might be an option. Readers can read/interact/comment with the story like usual, but where the authors name is it simply says "Anonymous". It might be a nice way of dipping your toes into writing before you commit to putting a username out there.

6) Okay so this is so cheesy, but you're not going to be where you want to be to begin with. It'll take some time and practice for you to find the style and genre that you enjoy writing in the most, so don't ever be shamed of your writing. I know other authors will delete their old stories that they don't deem good enough, but I just leave mine up because while they might be cringy, it's written proof that my writing has progressed.

7) There are some great websites out there to help get you started! Onestopforwriters is literally that, it has resources from everything to character building to scene building. While E.A.Deverell has lots of free worksheets and articles!

8) Your story wont be everyone's cup of tea, but that is absolutely fine, because there will still be people out there who'll love it!

9) I know it's easy to say, but try not to compare yourself to other writers. I know I fall victim to this, and I think everyone does. There are some fantastic writers out there and it can be really disheartening when you put a fic out that gets very little interaction with the readers. But at the end of the day, you wrote that yourself. Prior to that, that fic didn't exist in the world. And really, I think that's the most amazing thing!

10) At the end of the day, these are just tips, not rules. You don't have to follow them and you can do what you want! Experiment, write a small fic a day, write something sad then something happy. A lot of the confidence comes from learning the basics of writing and then experimenting with how to play around with the tips to create something uniquely yours 💛

#this ended up wayyyyy longer than I initially was going to make it - I'm so sorry!#but I really hope that you found at least some of that useful #as someone that is very sensitive I think top 9 is the hardest #but I keep reminding myself that I made this thing that didn't exist before it takes some of the anxiety away #apologies for taking a while to answer this #I really wanted to think through the tips!#thank you for the ask!! 💛#asks #long post

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feelingofcontent · 3 years

Text

DNP Rewatch: The Top Dan Memes of 2015

Date video was published: 01/12/2016 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 296

The first of Dan’s “memes in review” videos and his first video in 2016. Dan had tweeted asking people what their favorites were.

0:00 - the golden pig! I’m laughing that it’s in Dan’s background here and now it’s apparently his life mission to keep it out of Phil’s background.

0:17 - NO THANKS. Don’t need anymore too-close horrifying prophecies from Dan please.

0:35 - I really would have liked to see what that video would have been

0:48 - this is a disturbing metaphor 😳

0:56 - “the most disgusting sentence I have ever said” It is up there for on-video sentences

1:04 - “no meaning or importance whatsoever” that’s usually the opposite of what Dan wants to do with his videos, but he does actually seem to enjoy making the meme videos, at least this first one

1:23 - Dan (and Phil) really could not live down anything vaguely embarrassing they did, especially at that point

1:39 - clip from Dan and Tyler play NEVER HAVE I EVER! I talked about Dan lying about this in that post too.

2:11 - what a fantastic photo from that creepshot war

2:19 - “do you wanna lick that” 😳 He immediately knows that was a mistake but leaves it in anyway

2:26 - yeah, Phil’s glowing eyes in the background are disturbing slightly

2:40 - that photo that flashes up is the same one Phil showed in Reacting to Old Photos! back in 2014

2:41 - Dan is wrong about what video that sketch was for! It was actually his The Internet Is Mean video.

2:45 - yep, this one is Phi’s fault. “Sister Daniel” trended after Phil tweeted that photo

2:59 - I find this one hilarious. 😂 thanks, Phil

3:10 - why did he tweet this?! he had to know what edits were coming. Also, how did he even manage to take that photo, hahaha.

3:22 - that first DanAndPhilCRAFTS video is just so great”

3:42 - “a month” ...pretty sure that reference still hasn’t died lol

3:54 - “...the best video I uploaded last year” Dan was really proud of that and I love that we found out in one of the stereo shows that Dan was the one who edited it!

4:04 - DNP found that so funny they Instagramed about it. That channel still has over 700,000 subscribers!

4:22 - that was back at the Teen Awards in 2014

4:52 - that tweet is still up

5:19 - I love that Dan has no idea what he wanted 😂

5:27 - “I wanna...play it cool” was the tongue thing necessary

5:36 - poor Dan. I don’t think that helped him “play it cool”

5:44 - Dan’s been disturbed by being in teen magazines since 2014

5:52 - ahahahaha, this is amazing

6:14 - I love that Dan just rolled with it. He did eventually change it though.

6:33 - 😂 he turned it into a pretty stylish fall there! Pretty sure Dan is almost just as clumsy as Phil

6:50 - his freckles are particularly distinct in that photo

6:59 - Dan laughed hard at these

7:33 - “me and Phil” also it really is a nice photo of them except for the eyebrow thing

7:48 - I mean, his eyebrow on that side is a little thinner, but not as much as it looks in that photo!

8:27 - their faces in these are priceless

8:47 - they saw and talked about some of these horrifying morphs in TUMBLR TAG 3! as well

9:07 - wow that is a reference to an old video of his

9:15 - still can’t believe he called himself “phil trash #1″ on a panel at VidCon in front of that many people. In 2015. ahahaha

9:46 - he’s brought the twerking up in a couple of videos and does not seem comfortable about it 😕

10:07 - this is one of the extra ones they posted. I love Phil giggling in the background of it

10:24 - Dan may have brought these on himself by talking about how he never exercised so much

10:43 - “editing tips” indeed

10:53 - I love that Dan actually found these funny and shared them. A couple of years before this I’m guessing he would have been more uncomfortable about it

11:01 - “this will never escape me” ...no. But Dan’s still making references to it!

11:05 - I do remember this happening on the internet

11:15 - what even happened in that photo?! omg.

11:45 - “most of these photos were actually pretty cool” ummm...is he talking about the photos he has had on screen? because if so...no

11:49 - LMAO why

11:53 - I feel like they must have been so awkward at photo shoots

12:01 - “Phil gave me this look” I love Dan describing the silent communication they have

12:13 - “you’re welcome” 😂

12:21 - that pose really was just asking for edits

12:54 - “no regrets” ...many regrets.

This might be my favorite of the Dan meme videos. He really did cover all of the funny things from 2015 and seems happy to laugh at himself. Sister Daniel is probably my favorite bit, and I love that is was partially Phil’s fault!

#dan and phil #dnp #dnpRewatch #daniel howell #danisnotonfire #dan howell #daniel howell videos #The Top Dan Memes of 2015

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 3 years

Note

Hello! I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfy but I was wondering if I could get a bit of advice? From your recent posts, you said you left your home from toxicity and just bad things in general.

I’m in a similar situation, but my dad will be taking me away from my mom. And I just know it’ll be a shit show. And I’m absolutely terrified when we tell her and what the backlash will be afterwards towards my brothers and me and dad in general

How did you do it? How did you take the leap? Do you possibly have any advice on how to deal ?

Hello, friend!! ☀️

Thank you so much for reaching out, it means a lot that you value my advice <3

Hmm, okay from what I can tell of your situation, that is indeed a tricky one, but nothing can’t be overcome!

It’s important to remember, though, I was 19 when I left (now 20), so the way I handled things is going to be a lot different than how a minor can handle things (legally at least, feel free to replicate my insane stunts lmao)

Advice below the cut! (family violence trigger warning, I suppose?)

My entire family was and is extremely volatile, and I don’t speak to any of them anymore except for my older brother, but I’ll be cutting him off in 3 weeks too when I move.

Fortunately, my dad and brother were both kicked out of the house years ago due to violence, which left me with my mother, who’s quite insidious herself (just watch any Conjuring movie and that’ll give a good idea of what it was like living in that house lol)

I get the same feeling watching this scene as when I was around her in that house. Granted she didn’t try to change my gender, but the hatred for my father getting taken out on me is pretty accurate lol, paired with the immediate “motherly love” afterwards (she never hit me though, pleased to say — she wasn’t physically violent, just emotionally, financially, mentally and verbally. She did try to run my dad over once though, so, there’s that too)

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Yikes…yeahh the same eerie feeling for sure, still makes all my hairs stand upright in memory.

(For further context this clip reminds me of my father and this one of my brother)

In the clip about my father, he definitely reminds me of Frank Gallagher, except he despises my mother instead of revering her. He’s a workaholic instead of a drug addict, too. But the mannerisms are the same. I always handled him in the way Fiona does.

Regarding my brother, I think everything about our family hit him the hardest, despite being the oldest. He developed a very violent streak, and has very poor impulse control. I love him dearly but he’s a snake in the grass, and has thrown me under the bus multiple times to get ahead in life. I mostly just pity him, since I know what our life was like growing up. But still, I can’t defend him forever, especially not at the cost of myself. Literally yesterday I woke up to a text from him asking me to come pick him up because he got arrested for starting a fight at a bar and smashing their windows.

When things started getting pretty bad with my mother earlier this year, I started to realise in my heart that there was no way I could go forth in life with her in it. I focused on the future relationships I would have one day when far away from this town — romantic partner, children, friends etc

I sort of realised one day I’d care about them a lot more than I care about my mother, because those future people would care about me. That in turn got me realising that I do deserve love, despite how my mother made me feel, and that I don’t want her to deprive another second of that in my life.

Something very unique that triggered this too was going to go visit an old family psychic, who’s basically just the Gandalf to my Frodo (ily, Chris <3). He very accurately predicted my birth years ago after my mother was told she was infertile — he got the date, year and time right three years in advance, and even knew ahead of time what my personality would be like, which he was spot-on about.

Well, I went and visited him a few months ago because I was lost with my direction, and he ended up pausing and had a sudden feeling, which led to him telling me that he’d just found out I would be having twin boys one day.

Normally I don’t buy into that stuff, but this Gandalf dude…well I knew he was right.

Knowing I’d have sons of my own one day took me from a scared daughter mindset and into a maternal mother bear in an instant, and I knew I didn’t want any children of mine around my mother or the rest of my family, for their safety alone, which made me realise, “Well, if I wouldn’t allow my own children near them, why do I allow myself?”

I started grey-rocking her in the lead-up to me leaving, which of course frustrated her (she’s a malignant narcissist), but it was a necessary step to start emotionally detaching myself from her.

It all bottled over one night after a pretty distressing argument (I had locked myself in my room to avoid it, but she was still at my door carrying on).

My cat, who’s been my best friend for years, was sitting on the floor next to me, and sort of looked up and I swear he spoke with his eyes, saying, “You know we can’t keep doing this, right? You know this abuse has an expiry date?”

I agreed with my cat and knew right then and there that I’d be leaving that night after my mother fell asleep.

Well, when she was finally done (with threats that there’d be more in stock in the morning, mind you) I went to bed early and set my alarm to 3am (was a little inside joke with myself, since that’s biblically the “witching devil hour”)

I started quietly packing my quilt and cat up (I’d already been secretly packing the boot of my car up with all sentimental and important items weeks in advance, except she caught on and took all my baby albums and more to her boyfriend’s house, so I don’t have any baby photos or information on me when I was a baby anymore, like first words, size and just general things I’d have liked to compare to my own kids one day, rip)

Once that was all in my car, I quietly said goodbye to the old family dog and cat (they weren’t mine to take, not that I could’ve anyways, since it was troubling enough taking Buddy, who’s actually my pet and not the family one). That was pretty heartbreaking, as I knew that’d be the last time I’d see them (I grew up with them and was the only one who took care of them — mother neglects kids and pets alike lmao).

Once that was over, I looked around my house with my hand on the front door and was very melancholy, but knew Buddy was right: it had all reached its expiry date.

I left very quietly and drove to McDonalds for a coffee, as I had a long drive ahead (I had organised to be a nanny in this rich family’s house far away in the city — two hours drive). Luckily they were away on their country farm 4 hours away, so I had time to sneak Buddy in.

The nanny thing recently backfired horribly because they discovered Buddy, which led to more AM escapes with my car, but I’m staying with my older brother and his gf for 3 more weeks only. Something I’ve been working towards for months now is moving to a wilderness island to live in my country’s equivalent of Bag End — a beautiful country cottage, amazing job and fantastic study opportunities.

Best feature yet: it’s 60 hours away from my hometown by car, and then you’d have to take a boat for 10 more hours!! They shall never find me hahaha

One of my friends has also told me recently that my mother has started spreading horrible, defamatory rumours about me around town, but I don’t care anymore because I’m almost out.

So, although I can’t offer any practical advice (idk if you’re a minor or not, but regardless it’s great your dad is helping you!) this is the best advice I can offer:

Find a dream and hold onto it, one that doesn’t involve your immediate family. For me it’s moving to that island and enjoying all the fresh air. It’ll push you forwards and remind you of what you’re fighting for when at your lowest.

Remind yourself there will be other people in your life, whether a spouse, friends, children or even a dog! (I’m getting a golden retriever next year 🐾) And then remember that you deserve all of them and the unconditional love they offer you.

Remember that if you don’t want your mother/family screwing those people over by proxy of her/their relationship to you, then there’s no way in hell you alone should put up with it either, as I guarantee those future people only want good things for you ☀️

There is a good life after abuse, I’ve seen it, and I know you can achieve it, too!

Be prepared for tons of backlash and bullshit — it’s inescapable when dealing with people like this, but I recommend educating yourself on narcissistic parents and tactics to deal with them.

Finding a good therapist who deals in PTSD regarding childhood abuse is important, too. I found an amazing one in the town I’m moving to, who had nearly the same upbringing as me!

So while I’m still struggling with a lot of fear (scared my mother will find where I’m working and living one day) and guilt (I feel horrible about leaving the family dog and cat behind, especially when they need veterinary help, only to then go and get myself another puppy) I understand I’ve done the best I can in a very abnormal situation, and that I can only do better from here.

Also, this song has been a saving grace when going all angsty over wanting to leave your current situation:

It’s from my favourite Broadway Musical, “Newsies”, and lemme tell you — discovering this as a 17-year-old when I was just starting to realise the severity of my situation was pure divinity.

Jeremy Jordan, my beloved Broadway Bard <3

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When I finally get my cottage, I’m getting a wooden plaque with the name “Santa Fe” engraved on it, and am hanging it on my front door.

I wish you much luck and love, my little anonymous friend! And please know my inbox is open any time you need anything — vent, advice, a laugh or something else, ANYTHING, it feels good to know my past can maybe help someone else’s present ☀️

Please update me, too! I’m following your story along ardently now! (Also, be sure to take your sentimental items and store them somewhere safe away from your mother — ie baby albums, birth certificates, other paraphernalia/memorabilia etc).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hit the road. DESTINY AWAITS!

#ahh yes #Newsies my beloved <3 #and bless my family Gandalf #I’m gonna send him a gift next year from the small country town I’m moving to for his birthday as a thanks #also I’m torn between naming the golden retriever ‘Jaskier/Dandelion’ or ‘Glorfindel/Glorfy’ now #so happy that’ll soon be my only dilemma in life <33

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em-exceeds-change-zearu · 2 years

Note

After finding this blog and going through your Pokémon posts sometime ago, I found the Golden Boy/Golden Dad AU and innocently a question popped into my mind;

“I wonder what would have happened if Bert had remembered to release Ravindra from the stone orb… would Ash have grown up with a prickly yet protective older brother?”

It’s been a few months since then and ever since I’ve been suffering with brainrot from this hypothetical AU. I might try to write a fic just to put the plot bunnies to bed. Thank you and curse you for inspiring my brain and I hope your having a fantastic day!

I AM A POX UPON THEE

but in return you are a pox upon me, oh my god this au will never die and i love it for that, thank you for bringing back the brainworms and i am very glad that you care very much about this au

anyways, i hope you know that I too, have considered the "what ifs" of this kind of AU as well? here's the main takeaway from this:

bert still takes like 50+ years to do this, because that is the normal amount of time to put a semi-immortal legendary baby in time out. he does not realize how much 50 years is to a human person until he untransforms ravindra and has to deal with the kid immediatly trying to bite off his ankles

ravindra, understandably, takes a long time to forgive dear old dad for. all that. but seeing the direct results of what happened (the burned tower incident, the Pokelantis Empire in its decline and disappearing, etc) does in fact help him come around. Eventually. Give him a century or two.

the downside of this is that Ravindra is even MORE of a people-hater than Berthold, if one can believe that. after all, the base of bert's tragedy with Pokelantis and the Burned Tower is that Bert truly loved humans and their potential, and he's never able to completely let go of that lingering hope - hence the legends saying that Ho-Oh will appear before a person with pure heart. Ravindra, on the other hand, had only largely negative experiences with the people who raised him, given that he was raised as a status symbol to the point where even his mother began to take advantage of him. Being raised in isolation and retroactively realizing that was done with the intent of being only used as a puppet ruler does a lot to a dude.

yes this means he is SUPER prickly towards delia at first. he does not trust like that. he fully believes that she would sell him and ash for a single corn chip if given the opportunity. he's so conflicted because he wants bert to leave her but he doesn't want bert to make the same mistake in not being part of ash's life that he did with him. obviously this belief whittles over time because you can't not love delia, but it does take a LOT of time, and also maybe a mishap where he runs away with ash, once, because somebody has to make the correct decisions around here,

the funnier thing about this is that Bert is actually maybe a little more human-savvy this time around. like, more emotionally prepared to raise a kid, i mean. because he had ravindra for like, thousands of years at this point. he is actually Not An Overbearing Pompous Dad and maybe kinda cool? (he is not cool at all, actually)

ash on the other hand? ravindra would die for this kid. he absolutely adored ash the moment he laid eyes on him. he wants the world for this boy, he would burn the world to cinders if it ever hurt him, except he can't because that would make ash sad. that's his brother now. he maybe tries to dissuade ash from trying out a pokemon journey because why would you want to live as a People, but ash is very YOLO about this. he can only grow to be one hundred once big brother let him be a people with a normal age first

as an aside i have no idea if you were ever in the discord where I shared brainrot thoughts once, but I mentioned once that I decided to make Ravindra a shiny Ho-Oh, because the muted silver-and-gold colors reflect his faded plumage from being sealed away for so long. it also reflects in his human appearance as well - he's somewhere in between Bert's dramatically tanned skin and gleaming golden hair + reddish-brown eyes and Ash's own dark hair + deep brown eyes. so he's got faded silver hair and faded golden-brown eyes - he looks old, and almost wraith-like compared to the other two despite his youthful appearance. This AU version of Ravindra doesn't look nearly as faded since he's only been sealed for 50 years, though, so his silver hair and gold eyes are much more vibrant, and definitely resides somewhere between ash's wild birdnest fluff and bert's perfectly straightened locks.

anyways thank you for sharing in the brainrot, i would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, i just woke up to see this so forgive me if i don't sound particularly coherent

#ask shenanigans #golden boy au #golden dad au #joyndread #pokeani #pokemon #this au never fucking dies now does it. god bless

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kalimagik · 4 years

Text

Ronald?

Ron Weasley x Reader

Word Count: <2K

Warnings: None I think...

A/N: So I have a very large soft spot for Ron Weasley in my heart. I love him oh so much, so here’s a little take of mine on when Lavender Brown kisses Ron after that one faithful quidditch match 6th year. (I know she had some good qualities, but she’s always bothered me) Anyways....if you enjoy reading, you know the drill, like, reblog, comment, or even follow! Happy Reading <3<3

Reposting because the tags weren’t working

*Not my GIF - Credit to the owner

Y/N pushed around the food on her plate as she waited for her friends in the Great Hall. She’d been at Hogwarts for 5 years and was completing her 6th year with hopes that it would be a lot more calm. Every year had been something and after the year everyone endured with Umbridge as Headmaster, she could really use a break. Of course, not everything about the chaos had been bad. She’d gained friends like Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Harry and had even started dating the youngest Weasley brother. Yes, Ron could be daft sometimes, but he really did show that he cared for her and never failed to make her laugh. They kept their relationship pretty lowkey, but those who knew them best knew how happy they were together.

“What? Is the food bad today?” Ginny asked as she sat down next to Y/N, Neville close behind.

“No, I’m just super nervous for the Quidditch match today. Ron was tossing and turning all night. I just want him to do well,” Y/N spurted without any breaths.

“I’m sure he will! He’s been doing great in practice!” Ginny encouraged.

“I know. But after Hermione told me that she had used that charm to help him, I’m just worried about his confidence....oh shh. Here he comes! Good morning, babe!” Y/N smiled as the redhead sat next to her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Good morning, love! The nerves are getting to me, but hopefully they’ll go away!” He responded.

“I know you’ll do great! Don’t you worry,” she charmed.

Hermione and Harry made their way into the Great Hall and joined the rest of the group. Ron seemed to be doing well until Seamus and Dean came over.

“Ron! We’re expecting a lot from you today! Gryffindor needs this win!”

“You’ve got it mate!”

“Is there really that much pressure on me?” Ron asked Harry.

That’s when Y/N noticed that he stopped stuffing his face, something that was very bizarre for Ron.

“Ron. You’re looking kind of pale...” Hermione pointed out.

And that’s when Y/N saw Harry pull something out of his pocket. It looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure what it was.

“Harry?” Luna asked, sliding in with her large lion head, “what did you put in Ron’s drink?”

Ron looked up with wide eyes. Had Harry just put the luck potion in Ron’s drink?

“Harry! That’s got to be against the rules!” Hermione gasped.

“What? I just thought he could use a bit of luck to calm the nerves. That’s all,” Harry stayed simply.

“Ron, you can’t drink that!” Y/N insisted.

“Common, it won’t make that big of a difference!” Ron replied as he took a large gulp from his goblet.

Y/N couldn’t help but shake her head. Didn’t she say that he could be daft.

Down at the pitch, Y/N snuck into the changing rooms before the match started to wish Ron luck, even though he probably had enough.

“Y/N, what are you doing in here?” Ginny whispered.

“I just wanted to wish Ron luck. Is he around?”

Ginny rolled her eyes before pointing to where Ron was. She didn’t know how Ron got a girlfriend, but she sure was happy it was Y/N. She was just great for him.

“Y/N/N! What are you doing in here? Not that it’s a bad thing, I’m happy to see you!”

Y/N grinned as Ron stumbled over his words.

“I just wanted to wish you luck before your first match! I’ll be cheering for you up in the stands!”

Y/N stood on tiptoe in order to give him a kiss. She was going for a simple one, but Ron placed a hand on the back of her head, holding her in for an even longer one.

“I definitely needed that for luck,” he winked as she ran off to get a good spot in the stands.

The match was CRAZY! Ron was doing such a fantastic job! He was blocking every shot on the posts, got the quaffle to the chasers without any problem, and even spun around his broom to block a shot! He was on fire! Y/N was so proud of him, even if Harry had slipped him some good luck potion. (She really hoped he hadn’t)

“GRYFFINDOR WINS! Potter has caught the golden snitch! What a fantastic match here at Hogwarts!” The announcer called over the loudspeakers.

Y/N couldn’t believe it, well she could, but her boyfriend played so WELL!!! She couldn’t wait to get back to the Common Room to celebrate with him and the rest of the team.

“Y/N, you coming?” Hermione asked as Y/N stopped in the entrance of the Common Room, “Y/N?”

Why had she stopped? Just a minute ago, the entire Gryffindor house was chanting Ron’s name and Y/N had been excited to go in. What changed was all Hermione could think. That’s when she turned and saw it. Lavender Brown had gotten up on the table and kissed Ron. Hermione turned back to Y/N and she was gone.

As Y/N had stood there in shock, all she could whisper was “Ronald?” and run away before the tears began to fall.

“Harry? Did you see which way Y/N went?” Hermione asked hurriedly.

“No, why?” Harry asked cluelessly.

“Look,” Hermione pointed up to where Lavender was hanging onto Ron.

“That bloody fool,” Harry said, “ummm, she may have gone this way. Let’s go.”

Hermione and Harry rushed from the Common Room to try and find Y/N.

“Do you have the Maunderer’s map with you?” Hermione asked after they couldn’t find Y/N anywhere.

“Oh, good idea!”

Harry searched his robes to pull out the old piece of parchment.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” he said with his wand in the center.

Black ink began to spread across the parchment and the pair opened it quickly to find Y/N’s footsteps in the castle.

“Harry, look. There she is!” Hermione pointed to the two stationary footprints in the East Tower on the Astronomy Tower steps.

“Common,” Harry replied quickly as he folded the parchment and grabbed Hermione’s arm.

“Y/N? Are you still here?” She asked as they got closer.

There was no reply except for the sniffles in the dark.

“Lumos,” Harry said, emitting a bright light from his wand.

“Oh, Y/N. Are you okay?” Hermione asked worriedly.

“Oh, hi guys,” Y/N whispered as she wiped her eyes, “if you wouldn’t mind, I would kind of like to be left alone...”

Hermione completely ignored that request and ran over to hug her. Harry was quick to sit on the other side.

“I’m sorry. He’s just so daft. There is no way he meant it,” Harry tried to explain.

Y/N was just silent. It had still happened though. Not to mention, Harry and Hermione had come to find her and she didn’t even know if he had left the oh so grand celebration yet.

“Harry, that’s not helping! Y/N, has anyone else been through here?”

“Just Peeves and Nearly Headless Nick. Peeves threw stuff at me and told me to stop crying. Nick went away when I asked him to. But those are just ghosts...”

“I’m sure he’s wondering where you are,” Harry tried again.

“Well then where is he?”

“Y/N?” a voice came from the bottom of the astronomy steps.

“That’s him,” Hermione whispered, “so you want us to leave?”

“I don’t know...” Y/N drew out.

“Love, please. I know you’re up there...” he called out again.

“We’re up here, Ron,” Harry finally gave in and called, “I’m sorry. He is my best friend. He deserves a chance to explain.”

“Oh thank goodness. Y/N/N, love, I’ve been looking for you everywhere...how long have you been gone?” He asked as he came up the steps.

Y/N didn’t even want to look up at him. She couldn’t if she didn’t want to start crying again.

“Guys, could you give us a moment please?” Ron pleaded to his two friends.

Hermione looked at Y/N for permission, wanting to make sure her best friend would be okay with him. She nodded her head. Knowing she’d have to hear him out at some point.

Ron waited until the two had left before he started talking.

“Y/N, please, please, please talk to me. It didn’t mean anything. She came out of nowhere and everyone was celebrating and pushing in, not giving me any room. I promise, love, I didn’t kiss back. She finally let go and I looked around for you and you were gone. Love, I would never want to hurt you!”

“Ron, as much as I want to believe you, it still hurts. So, so much. It felt like my heart was being stabbed. I know we’ve been staying low key, but I thought enough people knew. Lavender knew what she was doing. And it lasted so long. You are so much bigger. You could’ve pulled away. It could’ve not happened...” Y/N could feel the heat behind her eyes, the puffiness Of her cheeks, and the tears that began to roll down.

Ron’s heart began to shatter. How could he have let this happen. He should have been thinking and not caught up in the celebration. He didn’t do it on purpose. He couldn’t lose her.

“Y/N. Please, I’m begging you, try to understand. I can’t lose you!”

He grabbed her one shoulder and used his other hand to lift her head so she would look at him. He looked into her E/C eyes and wanted to pull her in close when he saw the tears.

“Why can’t you lose me? I wouldn’t be very hard to replace...” Y/N tried to look down again.

“Don’t you dare say that. Y/N, you are everything to me. You’re smart, supportive, you see me for me, and you somehow know how to protect me even when I go on those ridiculous adventures following Harry... Y/N,” he paused for a moment, “Y/N. I love you.”

That got her to look up. He had never said that to her before. They’d been together for nearly a year and neither could figure out how or when to tell the other how they felt.

“You what, Ron?” She stuttered.

“I love you Y/N!” He said a lot louder.

That put a small smile on her face. He really was a goof....

“Will you please, please, please forgive me?” He asked again, taking both of her hands in his.

“I love you too, Ron. I love you so much...”

Ron couldn’t stop himself from beaming. That made him take her face in his hands and pull her lips to his. He hated the circumstances that he had to tell her, but he had felt this was for so long. His heart was content and he knew that he couldn’t mess it up. Y/N had him wrapped around her finger and could completely break him if she went away.

Y/N broke the kiss off and looked Ron dead in the eyes.

“I will have you know that if Lavender ever comes near you again, I will sock her in the face!”

Ron let out a loud laugh, appreciating his girlfriend’s feistiness.

“Oh you could take her any day! Want to go back and celebrate now?”

“Are you okay if we stay here for a little while, just the two of us?” She asked him with wide eyes.

He just smiled as he brought her in close again, “I hoped you’d say that.”

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theladyofdeath · 4 years

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The Ranch {10}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: enjoy!

The Ranch Masterlist

Cassian threw open the closet in the bedroom of his cabin. Sure, he’d spent quite a bit of time on minuscule dates and hanging out at the bar through the years, but it had been a while since he’d taken a woman out on a proper date.

And here he was, about to take Nesta, a fucking gourmet chef, to dinner. With an hour before he was supposed to “pick her up”, he still had no idea where they were going. He’d run through the list of restaurants in their little town a hundred times through his head as he went through his work that day, but none of them seemed good enough.

What also didn’t seem good enough were the shirts he was staring at. Maybe he’d just stay in what he was already wearing - the towel around his waist. She seemed to prefer him in such, anyways, considering the night they had spent together the day before.

And what a damn fantastic night it had been.

No, Cassian wanted their date to be perfect.

Once again, he stared at the line of shirts hanging in his closet.

He groaned and dragged his hand down his face before he walked across the room and texted Elain.

You busy?

He waited a minute, no reply to his text, and he was both impatient and short on time.

So he called her.

“You couldn’t even wait for me to text you back and tell you that I’m not busy?” Her voice was full of laughter as she answered the phone.

“Sort of in a rush and also freaking out,” he said, beginning to pace.

She was instantly on red alert. “What? Why? Are you okay?”

He shook his head, realizing he’d worried her for no reason. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m taking your sister out on a date tonight and I have no idea what to wear.”

He was met with silence on the other line.

“Elain?”

“I’m here, I’m...trying to make sense of what you just said.” She stuttered a second. “You said you’re taking Nesta on a date tonight?”

“Yes.”

“My sister, Nesta?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, with no chill. “And I’m in a hurry.”

“Taking Nesta out makes you cranky,” Elain muttered. “Okay, I’m here, what is it you need?”

“I don’t know what to wear.”

Another stretch of silence.

Cassian sighed, impatiently. “Elain.”

“Sorry,” she said, tone laced with laughter. “I just...You’re worried about what you’re going to wear?”

“Everything I have looks the same,” he mumbled.

“Then wear one of your fifty plaid shirts,” she laughed. “And your one pair of nice jeans.”

“Really?” He asked, grabbing one of his more expensive shirts from the closet. “But I wear this every day-.”

“She’s seen you everyday and has she ever had a problem with it?” she interrupted.

“I- No,” he admitted. “What kind of food does she like? I asked her to dinner and then I realized that she’s a chef and that nothing around here would be up to her standards.”

Elain paused, but finally said, “Do you trust me?”

Cassian hesitated, unable to hide the question in his voice. “Usually?”

She chuckled. “I’m going to send you an address. Don’t look it up, just trust me, okay?”

He blinked. Well, it was a better idea than he had. “Okay, sure. Yeah, I won’t look it up.”

Elain squealed. “Yay! Alright, stand by. I’ll text it to you now.”

Cassian breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Lainy, you have no idea how grateful I am.”

He could tell she was being genuine when she said, “Anything I can do to help! You both deserve to be happy, to have someone to cherish you and treat you right.” She sighed. “How’d you convince her to finally go out with you?”

Cassian debated on beating around the bush, but knew their families would find out anyways. “We, uh, sort of hooked up last night.”

Not to his surprise, he was met with more silence.

This time, Cassian waited it out. He put his phone on speaker then dropped his towel.

“And by hooked up, you mean…”

“Sex?” Cassian supplied, pulling on his boxers. “Yeah, and it was-.”

“I don’t wanna know.” The words rushed out of Elain so quickly that Cassian knew her cheeks were turning pink.

Cassian chuckled. “Fine. But, it was nice.”

“Were you drunk?” Elain asked, hesitantly.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “No. And she was still there when I woke up this morning, so.”

“Wow, I-.” She paused and repeated, “Wow. You know you’re supposed to take her out before you sleep with her, right?”

“Oh, ha ha.” He said, stepping into his jeans and buttoning them up. His voice was wistful at first. “I can’t help it, I just had to have her. And she actually made the move this time, not me.”

“I still don’t want to know,” she said, laughing. “Have fun, make good choices.”

“I’ll try,” he promised before saying goodbye and tossing the phone onto his bed. A moment later, when he was buttoning up his shirt, her text came through with an address.

He had no idea where she was sending them, and he was almost too scared to look it up, even if he hadn’t promised. After brushing out his hair with his fingers, he tied it at the back of his head and pulled on some socks, then his boots, and sighed.

“Beau!”

Beau came hurrying into the bedroom and up onto the bed, wagging his tail.

“How do I look?” Cassian asked, brows raised.

Beau barked.

“I assume that means you approve. Alright,” he said, grabbing his wallet off his nightstand and shoving it into his pocket. “I’ll be back in a little while. Don’t chew up anything...that’s not already chewed up, okay?”

He gave Beau a quick belly rub before strutting toward the front door.

He grabbed his keys and drove over to Nesta’s, hopping out and knocking on her door.

It only took a second for the door to swing open and Cassian’s mouth began to water.

The blue dress she wore was nothing fancy. On the contrary, it was its simplicity that let Nesta’s beauty shine.

Her golden-brown hair was in a simple braid, her brown sandals showing off her painted toenails. A soft pink, the same shade she wore on her full, beautiful lips.

She raised her brows as she said, “You’re staring. You’ve seen me every day for a while now. You can’t stare.”

“I can and I will,” he protested, meeting her eyes. “And it’s not the first time I’ve been caught staring at you.”

Nesta rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag off the hook by the door. “Where are you taking me?”

She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her as he hesitated. “Uh, it’s a surprise.” To us both.

She laughed quietly but said nothing more as they descended the stairs. Cassian opened the passenger side door and held out his hand to help her up, but she ignored it and hauled herself inside. With a chuckle, Cassian closed the door behind her and made his way behind the wheel before making his way down the long driveway.

Once they were out onto the main road, Cassian said, “You look beautiful.”

She didn’t look over at him as a small smile played on those pink lips. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad, either.”

Cassian grinned and turned on the radio, soft music filling the truck. He had already put the address into his GPS, but kept the volume down. He glanced at his phone every few seconds to make sure he was going the right way. The last thing he wanted was for Nesta to ask why he needed directions to know where they were going. What would his reply be? Oh, I called your sister because I was freaking the fuck out, thanks for asking, no big deal.

It was a conversation he wanted to avoid.

“What all did you do today?” he asked. “I didn’t see you around.”

“I was in the main house, prepping for painting,” she said, nodding. “That place needs to be updated before any guests start coming in. So, I taped, covered the carpets in plastic, and moved all furniture to the middle of the floors. Which, I should probably get a few new things there, too. I swear we grew up on shit made in the 1950s.”

Cassian snorted, then looked her direction. “You should’ve asked for help. I could’ve helped with the heavy lifting.”

She rolled her eyes. “I am perfectly capable of doing things on my own, thank you.”

Cassian shook his head as his eyes went back on the road ahead of him. “Trust me, I know.”

Her amused grin was radiant. “What about you? Any fun ranch stuff today?”

“Ranch stuff?” He chuckled. At her own laughter, he continued, “Nothing too crazy. Mostly made sure there was enough hay left for the horses over the weekend. And checked on Barb. She’ll be having her calf any day.”

“What? Really?” She turned to him. “It’s way too late in the year for calves.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I’m keeping such a close eye on her.”

His phone lit up, alerting him that they were approaching their destination. He looked around and chuckled, shaking his head. Leave it to Elain.

He pulled into the little parking lot of an old diner. The sign that read The Starlight Diner was lit up in neon lights. He parked in front of the little building before looking at Nesta to see her reaction.

She was staring at the diner before she turned to him. “You talked to my sister, didn’t you?”

Cassian hesitated, and she laughed. “We used to go here all the time,” she said, shaking her head. “I used to love this place. I can’t tell you how many milkshakes I’ve downed within these walls. And the chili cheese fries? I mean, there’s nothing like them.”

Cassian had been to the diner before, but not since high school. It used to be a popular hangout, one they went to after they won a big game or smoked too much pot under the bleachers.

“So you’re telling me,” Cassian began, turning off the engine. “That a woman who became a famous chef in Paris likes to go to ancient diners and drink milkshakes and eat chili-cheese fries?”

“Yes,” she said, simply. Then she smiled, softly. “Shall we?”

Cassian, completely speechless and a little bit turned on, opened his door and met her on her side of the truck as she got out. They went inside and sat at a table by the window. Old music was playing and waitresses were going about their business on roller skates.

“So, I assume you already know what you want,” Cassian began, flipping open his menu. “And I assume it’s more than a milkshake and chili-cheese fries.”

Nesta was glancing around the restaurant, looking for someone or something, but she didn’t miss a beat when she answered. “Bacon cheeseburger, with extra pickles, chili-cheese fries, vanilla milkshake, with no cherry, and a water.”

He raised an eyebrow, and let his menu fall shut. “I know what I’m ordering.” She laughed and he felt like his heart was going to burst. The sound of her laughter was quickly becoming one of his favorite things. “So why no cherry? Are allergic, or what?”

She scrunched her nose as she moved the silverware around in front of her. “I used to drink the Shirley Temples made with the cheap grenadine. You know the one that’s pretty much just cherry snow-cone syrup?”

Their server came to the table at that moment and took their drink order. They both know what they wanted, but neither was in a rush. She promised to return with their waters and to get their food order in just a moment and they fell right back into conversation.

“Long story short, one night we went to dinner and I had four or five of them.” She laughed and shook her head. “Neither mom or dad noticed how many I’d had, which was awesome to me. I was only allowed to have two before I had to switch to water. When we got home, I got so, so sick. They freaked out because it was dark red and they thought I was bleeding internally.” She began laughing even harder. “Neither of them told me that was what they were worried about, and I wasn’t about to tell on myself. They took me to the hospital and I finally told one of the nurses. Nineteen years and a sixteen hundred dollar hospital bill later, and I hate cherry and cherry flavoring now.”

Cassian just stared at her, barely registering when the waitress came back and gave them their waters. And then he began howling.

The waitress looked at him like he was crazy and mumbled that she’d be back in just a minute for their orders.

“So you were a rebellious child,” Cassian said, laughter dying down but his smile remaining.

“Considering that’s the most rebellious thing I’d ever done, I’d say not,” Nesta said, chuckling. “No, Feyre was the rebellious one, which I’m sure you already know. Elain was the perfect one. And I….I don’t know. I was just there.”

“That’s impossible,” Cassian said. “Give yourself a little more credit.”

She shrugged, and a shadowy look crossed her face that had Cassian clearing his throat. “Well, you didn’t miss out on rebellion. Coming from someone who landed himself in the local jail fifteen times his senior year in high school, alone.”

That look in Nesta’s eyes faded as she shook her head, humored. “Fifteen times? In under a year?”

“Yeah, I swear at some point the cops just started following me when they were bored until I did something they could call me out on,” he laughed. It was a little town. The crime rate was low. “Shoplifting a few times. Mostly underage drinking. One time they caught me peeing into the dumpster behind the corner market. Which, I was drunk then, too….Actually, that night was rough.”

Nesta laughed as she rolled her eyes. “Good thing to know such a classy man has taken me to dinner.”

Cassian’s grin widened. “You live, you learn.”

Nesta nodded her agreement. “What about your parents? Weren’t they furious?”

Cassian’s eyes softened as he said, “Don’t know my dad. My mom died while I was in middle school, lived with Rhys and his mom after that. And, yes, she gave me hell every damn time. But, she always came to pick me up and break me out.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, but he was already waving her off.

“Don’t be,” he shrugged. “From what my mom told me of my dad, he wasn’t the greatest guy. Found out she was pregnant from one of his friends and skipped town. He was a bull rider, and he jumped on the rodeo tour and she never saw him again. And my mom…” he blew out a deep breath. “We should probably save my mom for a less depressing conversation.”

Nesta nodded, completely understanding.

“But Rhys’ mom was great,” he went on, taking a sip from his water. “I love that woman.”

The waitress came back and Nesta ordered.

Cassian said he’d have the same, but with a chocolate shake, then she was off.

“So,” Cassian went on, leaning his elbows on the table. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Nesta took a moment to think. “After last night, I think you know everything there is to know.”

Cassian smirked. “About some things, maybe. But tell me something I don’t.”

Nesta chewed on her lip, mind going completely blank. Everything either seemed too personal or not personal enough.

“I can’t whistle,” She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know, this is one of the things I hate about dating. This whole interview process.”

“How about this,” he smiled. “Tell me about your favorite thing in the world.”

He was expecting her to start telling him about cooking, about how she’d ended up in Paris, Rome, London, all the places he’d seen when he did a quick google of her name. But she surprised him.

“Riding horseback,” she said, eyes bright.

Cassian raised a brow. “Riding? That’s your favorite thing in the world?”

“Does that surprise you?” She asked, leaning back in the booth.

“Yeah, a little,” he confessed.

She stirred her water with her straw, watching the ice cubes spin around in her glass. “It was my one escape growing up. The one thing I could do that didn’t result in a sneer from my mother and a lecture about my future from my father.” She sighed. “I used to ride Phoenix for hours to just...get out of the house. Have you ever ridden back on the hills to the west of the property?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean the property that isn’t ours, that’s marked No Trespassing?”

Their waitress brought their milkshakes to the table. There was a bright red cherry on top of Nesta’s, but before she could say anything, Cassian snatched it up and popped it into his mouth. She rolled her eyes, thanked the waitress, and took a huge sip. Her eyes slipped closed instantly and she moaned quietly. “Oh my god, I can’t get a milkshake like this anywhere else.”

She opened her eyes to find him watching her, and when her tongue peeked out to get the little bit of melted ice cream left on her bottom lip, his eyes tracked the motion. They were dark, the shining hazel almost completely swallowed by his pupils.

Without a word, Cassian pulled something from between his teeth and dropped it on the table between them.

The stem from her stolen cherry was tied in a knot.

Nesta said, “That’s both hot and cheesy as hell.”

Cassian’s low laugh skittered across her skin. “You already know what my tongue can do, but I thought I’d give you a little reminder, just in case you somehow forgot already.”

Nesta swallowed. No, she definitely hadn’t forgotten what his perfect mouth could do, but she had forgotten how to speak, especially when he was looking at her the way he was.

He plucked the cherry from his own milkshake, eating the cherry - sans stem, this time - and motioned for Nesta to continue. “So, what about the land that we do not own, Miss I was never rebellious?”

His imitation of her was spot on.

Nesta pursed her lips and said, “Yeah, that land is ours.”

He dropped his spoon, splattering the table in chocolate ice cream droplets. “What?”

She took another drink of her milkshake, not moaning this time, thank the Cauldron, and nodded. “It’s only another few acres. I knew the previous owners. Armand and Colette Lavigne.” The way she said their names, with such familiarity and adoration, Cassian knew she must have spent a lot of time with them. “They were from the Bordeaux region of France. They moved here in their fifties to open a vineyard.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “They didn’t do any research and had no idea the soil here wasn’t good for wine. But they fell in love with the area. And they’re the ones who taught me to love cooking.” She smiled fondly, her eyes misting slightly. “I bought it when Colette passed a few years ago and Armand returned to Floirac. He didn’t want it to go to someone who would just sell it for profit and turn it into another apartment complex or a shopping mall. It's been my land for about four years, but I finally signed the deed to have it put in my name, rather than Armand’s, when I signed the ranch’s deeds.”

Cassian blinked, processing the information, slowly. Then he said, loudly enough to earn a scowl from the elderly couple two booths down, “What the fuck? I’ve been purposely avoiding that land, and now you’re telling me I should’ve been working it?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “No. Not yet, anyway. I haven’t decided what I want to do with it yet.”

Cassian was slowly shaking his head. “I have a feeling you’re never going to stop surprising me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” She asked.

He smiled at her. “No, it isn’t.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Nesta finally asked, “Have you even tried your milkshake yet, or are you just going to keep stirring it?”

He pointed his sticky spoon at her and took a big sip through his straw. He pulled back, staring at the thick liquid. “That’s pretty damn good.”

“Pretty damn good?” She repeated, shaking her head. “It’s fucking delicious.”

“You’re fucking delicious,” he muttered, taking another drink from his straw.

Nesta’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, which only made Cassian's small smile turn into a wicked grin.

Before she could come up with a retort, a display of beautiful, greasy food was laid out before them. Burgers and chili-cheese fries.

As the waitress turned to leave, Nesta said, “Excuse me, but is Alis still here?”

“Oh, no, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she said, and Nesta nodded. “She’ll be back in for the morning shift tomorrow, though.”

“Okay, perfect. Thank you.”

The woman smiled warmly and left them to enjoy their burgers.

“Alis?” Cassian asked, eyeing the massive plate of food in front of him and its twin in front of Nesta, then her tiny form. There was no way she’d be able to eat everything in front of her.

Nesta already had a forkful of hot, cheesy fries and was diving in. She closed her eyes and made a contented noise. She took a drink of her water, setting it down before answering. “She owns the Starlight. I came here so much that she and I became pretty close. When I…” Ran away. “Left town, I stopped in for a cup of coffee, trying to talk myself out of leaving. Alis is the one who pushed me to follow my dreams. She even paid for my bus ticket out of town.”

“Really?” Cassian asked, popping a fry into his mouth. “She sounds nice.”

“She is,” Nesta agreed. “One of the best this town has to offer. Now, look away because I’m about to bite into this burger and it’s not going to be attractive whatsoever.”

Cassian didn’t look away and Nesta, eyes on his, took a massive bite out of her bacon cheese burger.

He blinked, and she covered her mouth as her eyes lit up at his expression.

“I can honestly say I’ve never been so attracted to you,” he said, taking his burger into his hands. Before he took a bite, he asked, “So, Alis is the one that pushed you out of town, huh?”

Nesta nodded, taking another bite and swallowing before saying, “If it wasn’t for her that day, I probably would have stayed here, ended back up with Tomas, and lived to regret every fucking day that followed. So, I am very grateful to Alis.”

Cassian hadn’t pressed Nesta anymore on the subject of Tomas, and he knew now wasn’t the time, no matter how many questions he had.

“Well, then I’m grateful to her too,” Cassian said, taking a bite so massive nearly half of his burger disappeared. He chewed before saying, “Although I’m pretty grateful you came back, too.”

Nesta took another bite of her own burger. “You’re just saying that because I’ll have sex with you,” she laughed and dove back into her fries.

Cassian’s eyes lit up in amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a perk. But I think you’re going to be good for the b-n-b, for the ranch as a whole.” Nesta’s eyes softened and she smiled. Until he added, “And ‘I’ll have sex’ implies that we’ll be doing that again, right? That wasn’t a one and done?”

Nesta rolled her eyes, mouth full of food. A second later, she said, “I’ll have to think about it.”

Cassian had the audacity to look offended. “Ouch. Was I so bad?”

Nesta just grinned as she took another bite of her fries.

Cassian’s laughter filled the air as they finished their food. He paid, and then they made their way back into the truck.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, as they pulled out of the parking lot. To his surprise, she had finished every last bite of her food and downed her milkshake. Even Cassian had left a few fries, claiming he couldn’t eat another bite.

“Anytime,” he said, meaning it.

“Um, home is the other direction,” she said, when he turned left onto the main road instead of right.

“I know,” Cassian replied, shortly, and when it was obvious he wasn’t going to say anything more, Nesta shot him a look.

“Where are we going?” she asked, slowly.

Cassian just grinned, one hand on the wheel, the other sneaking over the middle console to hers.

The ride was comfortably quiet, the rumble of Cassian’s truck the only sound. Nesta didn’t mind though, not as he drove through the square, where people bustled about. Velaris was a city best enjoyed at night, and the people milling around every restaurant and park and store front proved it. She also didn’t mind the feel of his hand in hers, so the longer drive was fine by her.

Until they pulled into a parking lot.

“Why are we here?”

Cassian only grinned and hopped out of the truck, rounding the hood and helping Nesta down. “Don’t feel like a walk down memory lane?” They began to walk and, as casually as she could, she slipped her hand back into his. His fingers intertwined with hers and he glanced down at her. She was staring forward, refusing to look up at him, but he knew color was staining her cheeks. Could tell by the way the tips of her ears were a darker shade of pink than normal. “I thought, rather than talk about who we are, cause that always sucks and no one likes doing it-.” He was rambling and Nesta giggled. He laughed at himself and cleared his throat. “Right. What I was trying to say, is that talking about who you are sucks. But talking about who you used to be? I don’t know, for me, it’s always been easier.” Nesta looked up at him, but he shrugged and carried on. “Even if I wasn’t always proud of who I was, I can at least learn something from who I’ve been.”

“Fair enough,” she said, quietly, as he led the way.

They were at their old high school, but Cassian didn’t walk toward the building, which was undoubtedly locked. Instead, he took her to the football field, where Nesta could count on one hand how many times she had been there through the four years she had spent at Velaris High.

“You played football?” She asked, as they walked through the gates.

“I did,” Cassian confirmed, as they walked onto the green field. Velaris Knights was painted into the end zones. “Yeah, I tackled a lot of guys on these fields. And, over there,” he pointed to the bleachers, “is where I used to get high and drunk, referring back to the jail conversation we had earlier tonight.”

Nesta laughed as she looked around. She had never been on the field before. Everything looked different from standing between the bleachers.

“You came to games, right?” He asked, gazing around the field. The lights were on, thanks to the evening practice that had only ended an hour or two before. The lights ran on a timer, just like they had when he played on this field. They had until just before ten-thirty before the lights would go out.

Nesta shook her head. “I was never a big fan of school events. I always preferred to stay home and read or more often than not, I was with Tomas. Going to some roping.”

There he was again, taunting Cassian from the past. But again, he wouldn’t bring up Tomas tonight. “Wasn’t Elain a cheerleader? Didn’t you come to at least support her?”

She shrugged. “Come cheer on the cheerleader? No, and she knew I hated it. She would actually convince Feyre to go to the games so I could have an hour or two of silence.”

Cassian snorted. “Well, I lived on this field. And I kicked ass. While you were being a nerd, apparently.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “I was not a nerd, asshole.”

Cassian held his hands up in surrender. “I never said it was a bad thing.”

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. “Looking back, I would’ve done some things differently. Maybe not the staying home with a book, but with the whole Tomas business.”

Cassian stayed silent. He wanted so badly to ask, but knew he shouldn’t. They were having such a good time. He didn’t want to ruin it.

So, instead, Cassian said, “I wish I would’ve known you then.”

She chuckled but sat down when they reached the center of the field. “No, I don’t think you do.”

He followed suit, sitting down in the turf leaning back on his hands. “Why not?”

“It was true, what you said before. I constantly had a stick up my ass.” She laughed and continued. “And I was a bitch.”

Cassian laughed, but he didn’t correct her. “You were cute, though. I’m convinced I would have loosened you up.”

Nesta shook her head, unable to stop her smile from spreading. “I’ll let you think that.”

Cassian looked over at her, at the way her golden-brown hair shone in the lights. She was a beauty, and yes, she had been cute in high school, but now she was stunning, in her little blue dress and her simple braid.

“You’re staring again,” she mumbled.

“Let me stare,” he pleaded, eyes soft.

She blushed and he leaned over, tilting her chin up and softly brushing his lips against hers. When he pulled away, he whispered, “Please tell me I can do that whenever I want now.”

Nesta thoughtfully tapped her chin and said, “Whenever? I don’t know about that.”

“Damn you, woman,” he laughed and kissed her again, laying down on top of her.

She chuckled against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We’re not kids anymore, Cassian, we can’t fuck on the football field. Just because you like being tossed in jail doesn’t mean that I do.”

He grinned, resting his elbows in the grass on both sides of her face. “I’ll be nice, I promise.”

She kissed him then, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth. “Good.”

“Until you did that…” he muttered, kissing her again, pressing his body down against hers as he did so.

She let his hands roam her body, let him grab and squeeze and pull. He tugged on her hair lightly, tilting her chin up and exposing her neck. He nuzzled his face into it, and lightly ran his tongue along the long column of her throat. He pressed soft kisses along her jaw until he returned once more to her lips.

Pulling back to look at her, her lips swollen from his bruising kisses and her hair a messy halo around her head on the grass, Cassian brushed a thumb along her cheekbone. He breathed, “You are so damn beautiful.” She blushed and tried to turn from his gaze. “No,” he whispered, gripping her chin so she couldn’t look away. “Why do you do that? Why won’t you let me tell you how beautiful you are?” He asked, quietly.

“Taking compliments isn’t one of my strengths,” she said, running her hands down his arms, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric.

“Well make it one,” he mumbled, “because I’m not going to stop. I’m going to tell you how beautiful you are, always, because it’s the truth.”

She shook her head, slowly, but didn’t say anything else. She simply grabbed him by the face and brought his lips to hers.

After a few minutes of languid kisses, and some strong, strong willpower, Cassian rolled over and laid on his back, staring up at the sky. He tucked a hand behind his head and the other found Nesta’s next to him. His thumb rubbed small circles on the back of her hand and he gazed up at the stars.

It was quiet for a few minutes, neither one of them wanting to disturb the stillness. But eventually, Nesta asked, “You about ready to head home?”

He turned his head and looked at her, those stormy eyes seeing every part of him. “Just a minute. It’s almost time.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

He smiled, looking back to the sky. “You’ll see.”

They laid there in silence, Nesta loving the feeling of his hand in hers.

The lights shut off, plunging the field into darkness. Nesta started, looking around, wondering if they needed to go, to get back to the truck, before someone-.

“Look,” he breathed, still staring upwards.

Nesta gazed toward the sky. Her breath caught in her throat.

The lights above them, surrounding the field, had gone off, and the starlight above them burned brightly, lighting up the night sky.

There were no trees, no nothing to block the view of the series of shooting stars that shot across the speckled darkness.

Only in Velaris.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She had always known her hometown was famous for its starlight, had always snuck a glance or two up at the night sky throughout her childhood, but had never taken a moment to simply watch, to wait, to explore with her eyes the beauty of creation.

“It is,” Cassian agreed, softly. He wasn’t only talking about the night sky. “I used to lay out here all the time, in high school. Captivated by it.”

“Were you high?” Nesta asked, quietly, jabbing him in the ribs.

Cassian laughed, breathlessly. “Sometimes.”

She glanced over at him, but he didn’t notice. He was entranced by the wonder before him, by the sheer enormity of the sight above him.

“You love this town,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

He nodded and looked over at her. “I do. It’s not much, but it’s...home. I’ve never wanted to be anywhere else.” He paused. “Well, except on the road, but that didn’t exactly pan out.”

“Why not?” She asked, before she could stop herself.

Cassian hesitated. “It’s a long story.”

“Is it?” She asked. “Or is this one of those times you say it’s a long story because you don’t want to tell the story.”

Cassian laughed, glancing sideways at her. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

“Well,” she said, smiling softly. “I have time.”

He tried not to let it sound harsh when he said, “Another time.” He turned and laid on his side, brushing the loose hair framing her face behind her ear.

He could see the stubbornness, could see that Nesta wanted to push. But she nodded and leaned forward to press her lips against his.

After a soft smile, he climbed to his feet and held out a hand. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get home.”

She took his hand, happily, and let him walk her back to the truck. The ride back to the ranch was quiet, but not uncomfortable. He caught her looking at him from time to time, and every time he caught her, that look of annoyance from being caught captured her face.

When Cassian pulled up to her little house, he turned off the engine and got out, walking her up to the porch. They stood, hand in hand. He looked down at her and kissed her, softly. “Is this the part where you invite me inside?”

She made a show of acting like she was thinking, and took a step back. “I don’t know, this was only our first date…” She opened the door and took another step back until she was inside. “I’m not that type of girl.”

There was a playful glint in Cassian’s eye and he stepped forward, bracing an arm on the door frame. “I don’t know what type of girl you’re talking about.”

She chuckled and said, “Goodnight, Cassian.”

The smirk on his face faltered and she shut the door in his face.

He took a step back and blinked. “Wha- Are you kidding me?”

The door swung open just a few seconds later and Nesta stood inside, still laughing. She grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him over the threshold, her lips immediately meeting his.

#theranchnessian #sharacollab #nessian #theranch #au #modern au #fanfic #fanfiction

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years

Text

Impersonator

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, death of minor character.

Words: 1953.

Summary: Meeting a cosplayer in Berlin isn’t a big deal, really. You don’t actually know why you are drawn to this guy in his stunning horned helmet, standing on the train with a seidr in his hand.

P.S. I own the plot of this story to amazing @caffiend-queen and my determination to write it to lovely @kinathewolf <3 Although I changed the story a little (this post made us discuss the idea), I hope you will like it!

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Waking up when it was barely six, you kept yawning and rubbing your eyes while sitting on the train. You worked for one of the thousands of start-ups in Berlin, and your boss always liked to start pretty early. Well, despite waking up when it was still dark, you didn’t mind, really – the U-Bahn was much less busy now than thirty minutes later, and you didn’t have to stand the whole way to your station.

Today was a bit different, though. Not that there were too many people, but that one guy with his horned helmet looked so fantastic you simply couldn’t take your eyes off him. He had entered on the Bismarckstraße station, and since then you had been staring at him shamelessly. He was the spitting image of Loki, that god from Asgard, the one who had been released by Avengers not so long ago for his aid in protection of Earth from an invading alien force. Now Loki had his own fan club, and this guy was probably one of the squad. Seeing him in a full suit wasn’t surprising either – tomorrow was the first day of Comic Con, so he was probably going for a cosplay catwalk rehearsal before the event.

No one was really paying attention to him as he stood silently near the door with his seidr, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Come on, he was probably the most handsome guy you had seen in years, not even mentioning his gorgeous costume. Although you had never been Loki’s fan – for God’s sake, you still remembered that day in Stuttgart – this guy’s passion for cosplay was admirable.

When you reached Wittenbergplatz, a group of cheerful tourists entered the train, and the guy had to move further, taking a place close to yours. Of course, you still stared at him in awe, and he quickly noticed you. His piercing gaze finally made you realize it was unacceptable to gawk at someone like this, and you averted your eyes, feeling your cheeks growing hot. The cosplayer chuckled at your reaction.

“I’m so sorry!” You muttered, clenching the fabric of your jacket. “I just- ugh, I mean, your cosplay is stunning!” Now that you said it, you were just too humiliated to add anything. Why couldn’t you be like all other people who didn’t harass the poor guy with them staring? Of course, no one would be comfortable with some creepy girl watching over them.

But the guy didn’t look worried or embarrassed even the slightest bit. When you saw his face, you realized he was amused as he looked at you with a grin on his face. Now you even felt a little scared because there was something animalistic in his gaze.

“Thank you. I was spending day and night crafting this costume.” He was smiling, and you realized he was probably playing the role of Loki now.

Oh damn, of course. Being a cosplayer meant not only wearing a costume of your character but being this character, behaving like them, speaking like them, sometimes even moving like them. This guy was doing exactly this, and, to be honest, he was really good at acting since for a minute you believed he wasn’t just a mere human.

“I’m sure you will be the winner of the contest this year.” You smiled shyly at him, still embarrassed at your behaviour earlier, and the guy laughed at you a little. God, you felt so terribly awkward.

“Thank you. If my brother won’t show up, I’m sure I’ll have a chance.” For a second you thought there was something bittersweet in his eyes, but then it was gone, and the cosplay rose to his feet, shining in the electric light of the subway. “This is my stop. Have a good day, my lady.”

Of course, you barely nodded at him, felling like you’re gonna explode from the way he called you and how the guy bowed his head a bit at you as if you truly were some Asgardian goddess. Minutes later you would curse yourself for being so stupid to not even ask his cosplayer’s nickname – how on Earth were you going to find his profile on Facebook now? Since you were in the middle of a new marketing campaign, your boss would never let you leave tomorrow to visit Comic Con, and that was your only chance to ever see that amazing guy again.

Ugh, living with that useless brain of yours was quite a challenge.

You had already bid farewell to the cosplayer since you knew meeting him by chance again in a city as big as Berlin was impossible – especially if without his costume and wig and makeup the guy would be unrecognizable. The next evening you were sitting in the train just like all other evenings when you were coming late from work, a bag with a chicken sub in your hands along with an already cold cup of tea. You sighed, thinking of Comic Con and all the fun people were having there. Damn, next year you would definitely take a short vacation to finally visit the convention. Maybe you would have a chance to meet that mysterious guy again.

“It smells nice.”

You immediately raised your head, staring at the cold blue eyes of the guy you met yesterday’s morning. He was still wearing his horned helmet and shining golden armor, the Scepter in his hand. He sat close to you again, and you suddenly found the courage to smile at him widely. God, it was happening. He was really here, with you.

Was he coming back from Comic Con? You thought they finished way later, but maybe he was just tired to spend the whole day in this outfit – you could imagine how heavy it was – and left earlier. You couldn’t blame him, thinking of how many people probably wanted to take a photo of him during the day, too, and it was definitely tiresome as hell to pose in front of tons of people for hours.

“Would you like some?” You handed him your paper bag. “It’s a sub with chicken. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Ah, it’s a very generous offer. It would be rude of me to decline it.” His smile sent chills down your spine, but you reminded yourself he was still playing his role. Anyway, what could he do? Follow you to your apartment in this outfit? Seriously? He would be stuck in the hallway with those horns of his.

You watched like the Loki-guy took a half of your sub and returned the other half to you, then taking a bite and chewing slowly. To your delight, he nodded, telling you he liked it without words, and you chuckled at him. Now he looked almost cute with his puffed cheeks as he kept biting more and more. Apparently, the sub wasn’t bad, and you dug in it enthusiastically, caring little for a few other passengers. No one was looking at you two, anyway.

Halfway through finishing his part, the guy stared questioningly at your paper cup of tea, and you smiled at him with confusion.

“You can have it, too, but it’s already cold, sorry.”

Now he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. Did he think it was funny? Was it because he thought real Loki would find it funny? You were too confused but decided not to ask. You looked silly enough yesterday when you were gaping at him with wide eyes. No more of this today! You couldn’t blow it if you wanted to ever see the guy again.

“It’s quite alright. Let me help you.” He carefully lowered his seidr so it touched your cup, and in the next moment you saw a soft blue glowing surrounding it. It was coming directly from the Scepter, and you literally opened your mouth while staring at it wide-eyed. Wait, did this guy put something inside the seidr? Like, a light bulb or something? God, it was beyond your imagination!

But before you started throwing questions at him, you suddenly saw a wisp of steam coming from your tea and felt how the cup grew hot in your hand. Oh shoot, it definitely wasn’t just some light bulb! His Scepter was a real machine!

You probably looked like a little kid, your eyes shining and jaw dropped at the sight of something that looked like a miracle to you, and Loki-guy chuckled softly. He was seemingly content with your reaction as you even sniffed your tea a little bit to feel it really was hot again. But when you brought the cup to him, thinking he wanted to drink, he gently refused it.

“Thank you, but you have already given me enough.” His smile was much softer, and your cheeks grew hot again at his kindness, though it was you who shared your food with him. Strangely, it was like this stranger had some effect on you, and you smiled back at him, lowering your head to have a sip of tea.

However, the next moment the guy furrowed his brows, looking somewhere behind you, and you saw him lifting his seidr again, pointing at something behind your back. You missed his concerned gaze, but not noticing the blinding light coming from the Scepter was absolutely impossible – for a second you almost lost your eyesight, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching the paper cup in your hand. What was that?! But before you got truly scared, the light had disappeared, and all you saw was that Loki-guy sitting close to you with a piece of chicken sub wrapped in a napkin in his hand. His Scepter looked the same as before, no blue glowing coming from it. Wait, you didn’t imagine this blinding light, did you? It was here just a second ago!

As you tried to turn back to see what was happening, the stranger suddenly stopped you, his warm hand on your shoulder as he leaned closer to you, smiling, “Your tea is going to be cold again.”

“Yes, b-but-“ You gawked at him and then stared at his seidr, unsure what to say. “I-I mean, have you seen that light? Did it come from this thing?”

You heard someone behind you letting out a sudden scream and smelled metal and plastic melting. It was disturbing enough as it was, but then you realized you smelled the burning flesh searing from someone’s bones.

The Scepter. The guy’s resemblance to the Asgardian God of mischief. Shit.

Before you tried turning again to see what was left of the seats behind you, Loki’s grip on your shoulder became painfully strong. You watched him leaning even closer to you in slow motion, the world around you slowing down as the man whispered to you in a dangerously low voice, “Don’t look back. You don’t want to see what is left of that creepy man who was staring at you all the time, do you, dear?”

Frozen on the spot, you barely nodded, your eyes not leaving Loki’s pale face as he smiled, letting go of your shoulder and touching your arm surprisingly gently instead. You heard the sounds of crying and whining, people around you scattering to the different part of the car to be as far as possible from a man in the horned helmet. But you just couldn’t move from your place, glued to your seat, an Asgardian God looming over you.

“I am grateful for you sharing your meal with me. I’d like to thank you properly,” he said softly, and you swallowed your tongue instead of letting out a loud scream. “Let’s leave on the next station. I know a few nice places in Mitte.”

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Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight

#loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki layfeyson x reader #dark loki #dark loki x reader #yandere #loki of asgard

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