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#it was cute and fun to write tho
dulcewrites · 11 months
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Mauled Hearts
Aemond has lost an eye, but gained a dragon. He is sure he is slowly losing much of his sanity, but he has gained an equally nutty friend.
I had this small little au idea for what would happen if Myrah came to King’s Landing sooner than she did in Finding Common Cause. It sort of spiraled into me writing this because I’m super curious about that time jump after the driftmark incident. So much happened and it’s a shame we didn’t get it in the show imo. This picks up right after Driftmark. I see Aemond being 11/12 and Myrah is 13
Aemond is late for dinner… again.
Alicent tries not to fixate on the empty seat on the other side of the table. She often had to tell herself nothing was wrong, even when she could feel the eventual doom in the pit of her stomach.
When he didn’t arrive with his sibling, she sent Criston out to find him. She made the rules clear very to all of them. No flying right before or right after dinner. Always, always, tell a guard where you are going to be. She reminds Aemond of this the most. Doing it every morning while she watches the maesters repatch his eye bandages. He grows restless with them by the day. The bandages and the maesters. Opting to redo them as soon as they leave the room.
Alicent just watches. Tongue tingling to say something. Fingers itching as well. She doesn’t know if that is the urge to help her son feel better or the urge to peel her skin from her body. Starting with the fingers till is freyed and left open.
Aemond hates the help he receives. He was always far too precocious for his age. She often thinks he came out of the womb with the world on his shoulders. A difficult birth on her part leading to a haughty attitude passed to him. It’s only compounded since the indecent. He insist on doing things himself as much as possible, despite looking miserable some of the time.
Aegon loudly blows air out of his lips, staring at the meat pies that have yet to be touched. Alicent raises a brow at him, and he raises one back. Defiance and annoyance written on his face.
She can’t help but wonder if that is how she looks everyday. Same melancholy, detached eyes.
It makes her plaster a fake smile on her as the kitchen maids continue to cart out food. The meal was not to start till everyone had arrived; another rule of hers.
The seat next to her is also empty, but she is far more grateful for that. Viserys had locked himself in his room since receiving the raven a week ago.
Rhaenyra and Daemon. Married. Celebrating their newlywed bliss.
He had bitched and moan about it while Alicent tried to hold back a bile helping him change. The nauseous feeling was for serveral different reasons. She always noticed the way Daemon’s eyes trailed people. Daemon Targaryen was a simple man, or at the very least his stunted mind only allowed him to register few emotions on his face. His eyes only computed hatred and toleration; within those two camps came a spectrum of other things under the surface. Anyone less used to watching and observing as Alicent would miss it.
She saw the looks of wanting enacted on Rhaenyra from her uncle.
“I swear it! On the memory of my mother!” Rhaenyra said, and silly Alicent belived it. No wonder everyone lies to her; she makes it so easy for them.
It was only a matter of time before Rhaenyra was another fly in his web. Alicent recognized the lust like she did the hatred.
You don’t hate me because of my father. You hate me because I married your brother. Do you wish you were in my place? Do you wish Rhaenyra was him? Can’t get the acceptance you want from your big brother so you patiently wait for the day that years of gifts and lurking comes to fruition.
Targaryens were terribly funny like that. It would not the most far fetched idea in theory. Daemon viewing Rhaenyra as an extension of Viserys. The way Alicent is always viewed as an extension of her father.
Another no show at dinner. He had the same disgusted response to Rhaenyra and Daemon’s marriage but for different reasons. Otto never hid his distain for Daemon and vice versa. Alicent was envious of them in that regard. Daemon especially. How his emotions were able to ebb and flow freely. No one to tell him he wasn’t valid in them.
She had one moment of anger. A flash of something that burned underneath the surface from the day her mother was buried in the ground, from the moment her stay of King’s Landing became permanent, from the moment she had to lay on her back and have Viserys on top of her. Night after night. Put her body on the line to bear him four children.
She defends herself once, tries to avenge what happened to her son, and she gets whispers of 'mad queen' in court. Somedays, she wants to prove those people right and have their tongues cut out.
But Alicent cannot even pretend to be that cruel. The way others around her cannot pretend to not be that cruel. She immediately apologizes with white hot guilt and shame burning her body while members of her so called family just literally burn everything in their wake. People included.
Lady Rhea dead, Laena dead, then Laenor shortly after. A titled lady and two dragon riders in their own right, all gone. What is to say she and her children will not be next?
"You are not foolish enough to think they have nothing to do with his death, right," her father looked exasperated by her wide eyed look of shock when she learned about Laenor.
Now you see her what she is. What the king's stubbornness has wrought.
She had no comeback when Otto reiterated that same sentiment days ago. No argument for what is the truth. At times, she just wanted to scream at Viserys to wake up. To realize that he is the fucking king; if he does not want his precious daughter in harm's way, he could stop it easily. If he does not want Rhaenyra and Daemon married, he could make it so. If he wanted his daughter to not have bastards or have no one whisper about their parentage, he could have told her to watch herself after the first boy came out just as plain featured as his father. What is stopping Viserys from wielding that power other than his own cowardice? He could have stopped it all the moment before he decided to remarry.
The Mad Queen and the Cowardly King, what a horrid pair they make.
But Alicent has quickly learned that the only time Viserys feels comfortable reminding everyone he is king is often at her expense. And now at the expense of the children he had with her.
On cue, Criston and Aemond stroll into the dining hall.
Aemond cheeks are a bit pink when he finally plops down. Alicent opens her mouth to ask him where the seven hells he’s been, but out of the corner of her eye she sees Criston shake his head slightly. As if to say, we can talk about this later.
They had gotten good at that. Shared looks of communication.
Alicent tries to read between the lines as dinner goes on, but it to no veil as Aemond won’t meet her gaze. Helaena whimsically makes her way through a story about Dreamfyre. By the time dinner is done, Alicent’s interest is far too piqued in what Criston will tell her to even move from her spot.
The kids all give her a kiss goodnight as the evening turns. Before he leans to kiss her on the cheek, Alicent grabs Aemond’s arm softly.
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
His face scrunches in a way that Alicent assumes may be painful because of the healing stitches. He looks over at Criston for a moment then back at his mother.
“You look pretty today.”
Alicent almost laughs at the gall of her second boy. Almost.
“Thanks,” she says dryly as he pecks her. The last of the guards take him away to his room.
Alicent by passes the small goblet in front of her, and goes straight for just the wine jug itself. Criston takes a seat at the table, watching as Alicent downs the wine. She knows when she leaves, she will have to go visit Viserys. Make sure is isn’t slumped over his stupid model, like she found him a couple nights ago.
Or gods willing choked on his own vomit.
“So,” Alicent waits for an explanation.
Criston opens his mouth, then closes it. She can tell he is trying to think of the words to say.
“I do not want you to be upset, your grace.”
Alicent rolls her eyes. He’s always brought would the formalities when he had to tell something bad. She wonders what trouble her children have gotten into now.
“Aemond has a friend.”
She blinks surprised. That was not what she was expecting.
“A friend?”
“Hmm,” he chews on lips. “A friend… that is a young lady.”
“What,” she says it far louder than she intended to. Startling even the kitchen help that come to pick up the plates. She lowers her voice once they are alone again. “What?”
“She is innocent and harmless,” Criston warns. “Well, mostly harmless.”
“Mostly,” Alicent voices gets a bit high.
“They read together. One time I caught them collecting butterflies for Helaena which was nice and -“
“Helaena knew too?”
Criston grimaces. It is a look he has been giving her a lot lately. This look of horrible pity but also cautiousness. Like he is expecting another knife related incident to take place at any moment. Had she reach such lows that Criston of all people was worried about another rage filled outburst?
Alicent slumps in her chair. Even while being painfully attentive, she still manages to never get her children. The kids did always have a knack for sneaking around. From the moment they could stand and walk on both legs, they managed to evade her. On one hand, she could chalk it up to childlike curiosity and recklessness. Something was squeezed out of her at a young age. But the other hand, she could not help think it was a omen for her relationship with her kids. No matter how hard she tries, there will always be parts of them out of her reach. Literally and figuratively.
“I also might have heard them chanting things in a language I did not understand. Then damning a girl named Becca.”
Alicent’s face shifts to mortification.
“But she’s a nice girl. A little strange but no one is forcing Aemond to be around her, so he must enjoy her company,” Criston comforts. “I would not let anything happen to him. Not again.”
Alicent swallows thickly. It was a shared guilt that ran through them. She goes over that night daily, sometimes multiple times a day. How she could’ve stopped it from happening the way it did. She knew how much Aemond wanted a dragon. She should’ve been down there with him. It may the Targaryen blood that gives him the ability to fly that behemoth he loves so much, but he is hers. All of them are hers. The fault of that night was lies at the adults’ feet, including Alicent’s
Her, Viserys, Daemon, Rhaenyra, Laenor.
So overcome with humiliation after Viserys called her Aemma, she retreated to her chambers and stayed there with little care for how it may look. That was till she got a frantic knock from Ser Westerling. Before that horrible knock, Criston watched her cry for a moment before leaving her to her own devices. She could tell he wanted to say something in that moment, but did not risk overstepping a boundary.
A boundary that was frankly overstepped the moment she found him in the Godswood with a blade pointed towards his chest. It was overstepped when she overrode her father’s pleas not to, and had Criston sworn to her.
Alicent, an avid reader in her girlhood, read about the bone rattling allegiance knights have to their queens. She often she fears she got the worst of the bunch. Steeped in honor and attentiveness as he is in violence.
To be fair, she is sure she would be prone to burst of vision blurring anger if she had to protect a family like this one.
At least it was something they could understand on a fundamental level - the utter macabre of a lifetime of servitude.
“Who even is this girl?”
Criston’s lips tilt up in a half smile. “Myrah. Myrah Everlane.”
Alicent tries to rack her brain for any memories of meeting people with the last name Everlane. She bustles around so many people daily, it is hard to keep up at times. It sounds vaguely familiar but not a house that she would keep on her radar.
“Well, maybe he can invite her to dinner one night?”
Alicent tries not feel hurt about Aemond not telling her.
“…. Sure you grace…. maybe,” Criston doesn’t look convinced.
How different can this girl be? She’s what? Ten and three at the most.
But then Alicent thinks about herself at that age. Anxious, unsure, and clinging to the only lifeline she had at the time…. A Targaryen of her own. It pains her to think about how her girlhood feels like a distant memory; how court changes young ladies. Suddenly her reservations for Aemond melt away.
Gods help whoever this Myrah is.
———
In a way, Aemond knew it would not work.
Despite all the books he had read about the magic of Old Valyria, and the how Targaryen blood is special, it would be a bust. He could not feel any less god like waking up each morning, and was no skill of ancestors of bloogmages that came before him here to guide.
But it was admittly wildly entertaining watching Myrah take it as seriously as possible. Right down to outfit she decided to wear. Wrapped in deep red, oversized silks she said she took from her mother. Half her of long hair pulled up with various gold hair accessories. Rogue smeared on her lips.
To be honest, she reminded more of the Braavosi and Lysene dancers that would be brought in for special occasions as the castle. More whimsical with girlish frolic than like a powerful maegi ready to do blood sacrifices. Not even the fire in front of them helping her cause.
Though completely in character, Myrah still insisted he be the one to work with the pig’s blood.
“If I get anything on this, my mother will use me as a blood sacrifice. She got this fabric the last time she was in Dorne,” she sniffed, large book in hand. “I still don’t understand why we had to use a pig and not something smaller like the last time.”
Aemond shifted uncomfortably. “Because I said so.”
“Because I said so,” she mocks under her breath. Sighing, she holds out her hand. Do you have your list?”
Aemond fiddles with his pocket before pulling out writing parchment and handing it to Myrah. Her brows shoot up towards her hairline.
“This is quite the list. You added punishments to the names?”
“Many people deserve to suffer and I want to be thorough,” he shrugs. Myrah nods slowly before reading the list outloud.
“Lucerys Rivers - ,” she stops herself tentively. “There was a rumor I heard that their father was… awfully strong.”
Myrah was a lot of things, Aemond thought. Brash was one of them. But brash in the way he appreciated. Not afraid to say the obvious outloud while keeping what she needed to close to the chest. When he tentively brought up wanting to curse those a little closer to him, Myrah nodded, good natured and understanding. Families are tough, and I’ve never cursed a king. It will prove my power.
“Strong and dead.”
“Lucerys Rivers - nothing but eternal suffering and haunted by the ghost of actual Velaryons till his eventual death... being fed to Vhagar. Jacaerys Rivers - burned alive. Rhaenyra Targaryen -,” she pauses again, holding the paper out. “What is that word.”
Aemond squints, even his own handwriting tricking him. “Umm, sharply.”
“Rhaenyra Targaryen - sharply put to question, eyes plucked out one by one. Viserys Targaryen - guilted, tongue chopped off, then pushed down the stairs.”
The last part made Myrah giggle as she handed the paper back to him.
“Alright, let’s do this,” she flips some pages in the book before straightening her book regally. Letting her large eyed flutter shut she begins speaking in Qohorik. Myrah had picked the Low Valyrian dialect quickly. It makes Aemond wonder how she would fair with High Valyrian. It rolls of her tongue smooth like silk. He had noticed how entrance he was till she opened her eyes expectantly, eyes darting to the blood then to the fire.
“Oh,” he realized it was his turned.
He crumbled his enemies list and threw it into the fire. Followed by blood of the pig. It was an ordeal of itself getting it. Sneaking into the kitchen with one of his Valyrian steel blades. Myrah was of course a terrible lookout. Eyes wandering to the tarts sitting out versus the door. Luckily enough, they were only caught by Criston, who gave them a strange look then a resigned sigh before walking Aemond back to his room then Myrah back to hers.
They sit there in silence watching it all get mangled in the fireplace.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Aemond snorts. “Just like the last time.”
Myrah closes the book. “These things take time.”
“Has Becca from back in the Vale been damned to enternal sadness yet,” he challenges.
“No,” she narrows her eyes. Deep pools of amber darkening. “But I expect for my friends to write me any day now about how miserable she is.”
Aemond shrugs, not convinced as his vision was trained on the fire. He used to think something was wrong with him. Guiltily blaming the Hightower in him. That is must’ve done something to the Targaryen blood. But really, he is just unlucky.
He is not God like his ancestors said Targaryens were. He is terribly mortal. A one-eyed mortal. Fake blood magic or not.
“I need to make sure I’m not late for dinner again,” he says abruptly, suddently feeling that familiar pit of sadness in his gut
Myrah frowns a bit. “What’s wrong?”
“Who said anything was wrong?”
“You have that dopey, awful look on your face.”
Aemond looks over at her with the best glare he can muster. Myrah’s face doesn’t change, a serene calmness marrying her face. He hates how everyone looks at him these days. Sympathy or… disgust. It makes him hate leaving his room. But Myrah just looks through him, as if she never notices the bandages that cover have his face.
“I overheard some people speaking about my eye,” he mutters, embarrassed.
Something flashes behind Myrah’s eyes. “Fuck them. Fuck court and fuck King’s Landing too.”
Aemond is a bit taken a back by her choice of words, but he had heard the sentiment before. The luster of the Red Keep worn off quickly with Myrah. Finding the politicking and fakeness nauseating.
“I was so excited to come here, and now I’d take the Vale with all its sheep and mountains and windchill over this place. There’s no Lady Tyrell asking my parents where they are really from or stuffy old people who have nothing better to do than talk about other’s wealth or lack thereof.” She takes a deep breath after her spiel. “Whether you have one eye, or both. Or you’re missing any other limbs, you’re still Aemond Targaryen. Prince of the realm and rider of the largest dragon in the world. If anyone makes fun of you, that says more about them than it ever will about you.”
She pauses for a moment.
“And when in doubt you can just feed them to Vhagar.”
Well… she’s not wrong about that.
Myrah leaves him with the pep talk, and then a squeeze of the hand. He hopes it wasn’t sweaty when she did. He tries not to meet Criston’s gaze as they walk to dinner.
“Did you have fun?”
All Aemond can do is hum nonchalantly. Not trusting his voice, or the uneven way his heart beats.
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watchyourbuck · 1 month
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It's just to me disappointing bc I feel you're not a real buddie fan and I've followed u since forever. How can u genuinely ship them if you ship another pairing too
oh my GOD. okay, this is the last time im gonna indulge in this fit that you keep throwing in my ask box bc i feel like ive said it all already, but alas, here i go.
why is it that you cannot conceive people liking more than one pair? this is a fictional world, with fictional characters that we all partake in freely. what the fuck would even a "real buddie fan" be like? ASDHAJ have you ever liked two things at the same time or have you limited yourself to one thing your entire life?
man (gn) this is a SHOW. you are talking to a REAL HUMAN BEING here. you keep insulting me. how do you think thats gonna fly? lmao
anyway, i know which answer you want. yes, anon, i ship buddie above bucktommy. i think buddie is endgame. i think maybe itll go canon. NO, im not gonna stop enjoying bucktommy bc of that. theyre fun, and theyve kissed, and bucks exploring his sexuality and right now he seems happy. do i hope that happiness eventually lies with Eddie? yes. does that mean im gonna boo tommy? no. i never booed lucy or ana either, i just didnt think they were endgame.
also, if following me is giving you tummy troubles maybe u should curate ur online experience bubs
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Chatterbox (M, cold, 'drabble')
A little prompt-based fluff for you guys :) Reed and Greyson go out to dinner, but Reed realizes something is up when Greyson won't shut tf up lol. I'm loving writing this relationship, I can't lie, so sorry if it's too much Reed and Greyson lately - I'll get back to my other guys soon!
1.6K words (just a tiny lil blip of a story haha) CW: Male snz, coughing, fever, contagion mention. Hope you like it :)
Chatterbox
Reed looked down at his phone as he waited on Greyson, rereading the stream-of-consciousness texts his boyfriend had sent throughout the day.
Greyson
1:42PM
sooo pumped for tonight bb :)
1:56PM
should I wear a suit…? I know it’s a new spot but the website definitely reads ‘fine dining’, like fine-er than most of my clothes know how to be...
2:24PM
I think I’ll do dark jeans & a black button up. johnny cash style. cant go wrong w that. hahah.
3:17PM
I know ur working still but im just really excited to see you:):)
It was cute – borderline adorable – how nervous Greyson seemed for their dates, even after almost a year of the two of them being together. Reed had, of course, answered Greyson’s plethora texts throughout the day, but had tried to keep himself subdued so he wouldn’t give away his hand; tonight, he was going to ask Greyson to move in with him.
He knew it was a bit of a long time coming, but Reed was really trying to keep from scaring Greyson off by doing anything too quickly. His boyfriend certainly had a bit of past-relationship trauma that Reed tried valiantly to navigate; it was hard to figure out what the right time to do anything was. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure there was ever going to be a right time to push their relationship to the next level. But things had been good lately; like, really good. Tonight felt… right.
Greyson’s presence was palpable before Reed even saw him blow through the door. He looked up from his phone and clocked his boyfriend, standing out side the restaurant with his elbow locked over his face; Reed cocked his head a bit, confused. Was he… coughing?
The chef, clad in the Johnny-Cash-getup he’d promised, shook himself out before pushing the door to the restaurant open. He pawed at his nose with the back of his hand while asking the hostess to point Reed out – she gestured towards their table, and Greyson smiled when the two of them locked eyes. Reed waved, smiling back. Something was certainly… off.
“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Greyson said, kissing the top of Reed’s head before sitting across from him. “The fuckin’ train was running late again.”
“I’ve told you a million times I’ll come pick you up for dates,” Reed said, squeezing Greyson’s hand across the table. “You don’t always have to take the train.”
Greyson shrugged, smiled a little loopily. “I like the train,” he said, picking up his menu and squinting at the small font. “Lots of time to think. I’ve come up with my best dishes on the subway, I’m pretty sure; you remember that tart I made for the writer’s dinner, the one where we saw each other for the second time? Came up with that on the train. I was sitting next to this girl, probably a student, and she was eating one of those little egg tarts, the ones from the Japanese bakeries? I thought, damn I bet a root vegetable in one of those would fuckin’ slay – spoiler alert, it so did. Where would I have come up with that if not for the train? Plus, it’s one of the most sustainable ways to travel. I get my good karma for not actively killing the environment in. Win-win. What’re we eat – HTSHH! NXTSHH!” Greyson’s explosion of word vomit was very suddenly cut off to stifle two painful-sounding sneezes into the back of his hand.
Reed blinked for what was maybe the first time since his boyfriend sat down. “...bless,” he said after a beat. Greyson nodded, sniffled a little, and picked the menu back up.
“What’s this place’s thing anyway?” Greyson continued, flipping the menu over to look at drinks. “I can’t seem to figure it out; are they Italian? Mediterranean? Fine dining? Just high-end? No tasting menu, but prices are high enough to warrant one. Wine list reads very Italian, but there are like three dishes with hummus on them? I’m half-expecting to be served babaganoush bolognese. Which… maybe would work? Actually, eggplant, tomato sauce… I could see it working. You never know. Can’t judge a book by its menu, right? What’re you drinking? Want to get a bot -?”
This second monologue was cut short when Reed reached across the table to place a gentle hand on Greyson’s face. Just as he expected: hot.
“Babe,” Reed said gently, taking his hand back, “you’re burning up.”
The chef cast his glance down, embarrassed. “You weren’t supposed to figure that out till after dinner,” he muttered. Reed laughed.
“Seriously? You had to know I’d figure something was up. You’ve been monologing since the moment you sat down. Have you been sick all day? You should’ve told me, honey. How much cough medicine did you take before you showed up here?”
Greyson looked up at Reed and gave him a little half-smile. “Pretty sure I downed half a bottle of Robutusssin, not gonna liiii – hh! HhNXTSHH-ue! Huh-TSHH-ue!” Once again, Greyson attempted to stifle, to no avail. He allowed himself two painful little coughs before righting himself again.
“Bless you,” Reed said again. “I wish you would just sneeze normal, that always sounds so painful.”
“We’re in a restaurant,” Greyson said, a huskiness beginning to creep in to his voice. “That’s so gross.”
Reed rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Who cares? No one’s looking at us. They’re too busy with their many, many hummuses.”
A laugh bubbled out of Greyson, and with it came a flurry of congested coughs he directed into the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t mbake me laugh,” he muttered, taking a drink of water. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”
“Good,” Reed said, flagging the waiter. “I’m so sorry,” he said when the young, well-dressed server came to their table, “something’s come up and we’re going to have to go.” He handed the kid a fifty. “Thank you for your help.”
The server nodded, said thank you to Reed, and went to grab the two men’s jackets. Greyson raised an eyebrow, confused. “What’re you doing?”
“Taking you home,” Reed said. “You need tea and soup, not…” he glanced back down at the menu, “fattoush flatbread.” Greyson visibly deflated.
“I wanted to spend the evening with you,” he said, his voice subdued. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called and canceled, I just… I mbiss you when we don’t see each other all week. You’re always busy, I’mb always busy, it just fucking sucks. I don’t even know how I got fucking sick… oh wait, yes I do. Elijah had a cold last week – was that last week? Did I tell you that? I can’t remember. I think the servers gave it to him. Fuckin’ servers, I’ve never met a group of people who get sick mbore than theehh – huh! Fuck – HUHETSHHH-ue! Huh-! HhITSZZZCH-ue!” Greyson folded in half, his torso practically beneath the table in an attempt to keep the entire restaurant from hearing him. It was, of course, at that moment that the server returned with their coats. Reed took them silently, and stood to gather his boyfriend, who slowly unfurled himself from his own lap.
“Bless you,” he said, gently helping Greyson to his feet and slipping his coat over his shoulders. He lead the two of them past the host stand and onto the sidewalk, where he turned Greyson to face him.
“First of all,” he said, sweeping Greyson’s hair out of his eyes and caressing his cheek, “I know a subset of people who get sick more than servers, and it’s chefs. You and all your chef buddies are pestilence incarnate because you work nine hundred hours a week.” This prompted a little laugh from Greyson. Perfect, thought Reed. Break the tension.
“Secondly, yes, you did tell me that Elijah was sick, and I told you, and I quote, ‘Don’t get too close, I know you two love to share a cold’, but I know you don’t like to listen to authority, so not sure what I expected.” Another laugh. Greyson pushed his hair back, rubbed his nose, and pulled Reed in to hug him. Reed continued from this spot, pressed into Greyson’s shoulder.
“And thirdly,” he said, “I miss you too. All the time. Which is why I asked you out tonight.” He pulled away, reached into his pocket, and dropped a key into Greyson’s palm. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. I don’t want you to have to take the train from Brooklyn every single night, I don’t want us to hang out once a week, I don’t want to drop you at your apartment to take care of yourself. I want to see you when I wake up every morning. I want to hear you sneak in at three AM after you and Matt go clubbing. I want to take care of you, at home, when you’re sick.” Reed smiled, a little embarrassed, as Greyson stared at the key. “Move in with me,” Reed said. “Please.”
Greyson’s mouth opened, then shut without words a couple of times before he looked Reed in the eyes. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Yes. Yes, please.”
Reed felt a smile bloom on his face, huge, goofy, unashamed. He took Greyson’s face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips. Greyson held his boyfriend by the waist, then picked him up to spin him around. “I love you,” Greyson muttered into Reed’s mouth.
“I love you more,” Reed said, smiling. Greyson turned away then, suddenly to -
“HRRSHH-ue! HhhITSHZZCH-ue!” he sneezed away from his boyfriend, which prompted a laugh from Reed.
“Probably too late for that nicety,” Reed joked, elbowing Greyson playfully. The chef huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.
“I figured sneezing directly into your face would probably kill the moment,” he said, sniffling. “But I’ll go ahead and just do it next time.”
“Oh, shut up,” Reed laughed, kissing Greyson again. “C’mon. Let’s get you home and in bed. Sickie.”
Greyson smiled a little. “Yeah,” he said, looping his arm into Reed’s. “Let’s go home.”
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emry-stars-art · 9 months
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Doodles after learning the different meanings of different wax seals; according to this infographic using blue wax indicates romance or passion, the darker the blue, the stronger the feelings. Abram only has red wax (the default option) if any at all, but luckily he knows exactly who to ask when he finally learns there’s a separate proper way to seal certain sweet letters to his prince
Find the royal au masterpost here 💕
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milkbreadtoast · 6 months
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random but i resolved to post abt it every time i find a webtoon that I enjoy... and lately I've been having fun reading this one...
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*rubs nose* heh... I do dabble in het from time to time... no but seriously it's a p straightforward lighthearted enemies to lovers romcom, not groundbreaking or anything yet im over here kicking my feet and giggling the main couple is SO cute to me... i luv them... I actually couldnt wait to find out what happens next so ive been slowly reading ahead in the kor whenever i have time and they're sooo cute😭😭 I also like the art style and costume design a lot!! it gives me like. a nostalgic 90s shoujo anime vibe tbh... w the puffy hair and babyfaces...
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ask--invaderzim · 3 months
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What does ZiM think of this old doodle I found of him?
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roseschoices · 5 months
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˗ˏˋ masterlist banners for writing with matching dividers . ´ˎ˗
▸ made by me / free to use / likes, rb and comments are appreciated! / enjoy. *kiss*
[will do with different colors if it's requested!]
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chialattea · 2 months
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Nami WIP + some chibi doodles heheeee
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sentientsky · 5 months
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a tiny little ficlet based on this lovely comment from @queer4cryptids on this post! (i accidentally made it angsty, i’m so sorry!! but there’s comfort and gay yearning in there, i swear!) when the night falls low and settles against the side of the Earth; when the the dark begins to carry a certain weight, he shifts his stance. he lets himself breathe air he doesn't really need into lungs that exist simply by virtue of his inclination to breath. it's the same pattern Crowley's watched unfold a hundred million times times over—the stretching of a thread until it frays, three women, a set of blades; a wicked inevitability carried in the lines of time-weathered hands.
and still it never changes, never lessens the welling of grief that builds and breaks in his chest, that stagnates and stratifies like layers of sand upon gravel upon so many eons since he first fell from the sky and lost the right to mourn a woman hungry only for bread and a little kindness.
he leans back against a headstone, swallowing down a familiar hollowness. the sparrows have all taken root in the knots of tree trunks. the moon blinks back at him, clouds swaying like an eyelid closing to sleep.
he turns his face away from the light, sucks in breath for which he still has no need. the rough-hewn granite is going to scuff his coat; he knows this with the certainty of having lived in a world full of serrated edges for so many years. and yet he doesn't care. Crowley can't find it in him to give a damn because finally, finally he's there. he's there and he's real and tangible and it's been eleven months, two weeks, and four days since he's last felt the warmth of angelic skin so close to his own. not that he's been keeping count, of course. and Aziraphale's got that faraway look again. the one pressed into the lines of his face in the aftermath of a flood that tilted against the sky; the same one Crowley saw in the stark daylight of a death warrant unfurled and stamped with the name of the holy Mother herself. it's the same, hollow, teeth-gritted look Crowley himself wore as he stood on a hillside reeking of freshly-cut wood, bearing witness to yet another child of the Almighty thrown to the wolves. Aziraphale turns, then, and blue eyes meet black lenses meet amber-gold. "Crowley—" Aziraphale manages, choking it out in a half-whisper, like it hurts—like it scrapes his throat with bits of barbed wire. and, just like that, something in him is breaking and the oak trees are all whispering dangerous things and still, still he can't find a version of this story in which he doesn't lean closer, doesn't press himself forward into air that smells of earl grey tea and old books and something celestial and hallowed and holy underneath it all. and as though he's drowning—as though the moon doesn't watch them with a flickering gaze and the trees can't hear the brush of skin meeting skin—Aziraphale presses his fingertips to the side of Crowley's wrist. he moves no further. the air holds still, time seeming to freeze around them. it's intentional, he realizes; it's fire and it's heat and it's utterly fucking terrifying. even now, so far above ground, Crowley can nearly feel the weight of hellish eyes on his back. a shudder runs the length of his body. and yet. in the atomic space of that hungry, desperate, throat-baring yet, he turns his hand, trembling, to the side. he finds the angel's touch like a bird bearing North—like a compass forever calibrated to a single, fixed point.
"I know—" he rasps. “Angel, I know.” he twines his fingers with Aziraphale's, and it's positively electric. every cell in his tragically, wonderfully human body has turned pure gold, conducted and galvanized and sparking. a sharp, stilted inhale; a quiet anticipation carved out in the space between their pressed hands (and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss...). the graveyard is still. the grief is there, still. the grief might always be there. but the sharp edges dull, the welling in his chest grows steady and slow and gentle. and the world becomes a little less difficult to bear with the two of them holding it up.
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welcometogrouchland · 9 months
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The fact that no one across all of DC fandom (as far as I can tell) has mined the beautiful comedic potential that is the night and day difference between Tim and Damians current canonical love interests
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sugarsnappeases · 3 months
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thank you for the tag @fxreflyes this is so cute, except the format is trying to hinder my propensity to ramble, so i’ve rectified this in the tags lmao
i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child
no pressure tags for @static-radio-ao3 @inevitablestars @itsjaywalkers @carniferous @orbitfalls @transsexualpriest @futurequibblerjournalist <333
#i'm like 5'7 i think. fun fact i used to wear glasses when i was like 11 bc all my friends were getting glasses and i wanted some too so i#lied to my optician. lol good times. don't actually need glasses tho soooo.#this is me coming out as a natural blonde guys….. like my hair hasn’t been blonde in a good year or so and it hasn’t been my natural blonde#in like three/four years but still in my heart of hearts i identify as a blonde. like i get confused when people don't count me as one#i have my ears and nose pierced and i would love a tattoo but unfortunately i have both a fear of needles and commitment issues so.#not sure if that’ll ever happen… would be very hot and sexy tho. also i'm one of those freaks with green eyes lol it's appaza quite rare#my hair is currently like dark dark brown… have been getting the itch to dye it again tho like a kinda reddish colour idk yet we’ll see#i had braces for AAGES. i have freckles in the summer and i paint my nails whenever i remember to. rn they’re a very chipped lilac colour#i think i have a resting bitch face but i can never tell tbf like it might be more of a resting 'dead to the world' face lmao#okay technically i don’t play an instrument anymore! but in the past i’ve dabbled with the cello the oboe and the xylophone. singing too#spanish and italian baybee although ig if this means like fluently then that’s not me but this is literally my degree it’s my whole brand#yes i like to read but also the only things ive read in like the last few months have been either books in spanish/italian for my degree#literary criticism for said span/ital books and… fanfic. so. also i like writing but it's my worst enemy rn the thoughts aren't working :(#i have many best friends that i’ve known for years!!!! in fact i've known some of my friends for like my entire life it's very cute#okay sorry for rambling i can never help myself and i also literally could go on icl like there was Some restraint applied here#kara lore#bc there's quite a lot of it in this one lol#tag games
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dolldefaced · 5 months
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going into the tags and seeing both 'this is some of the best red hood writing we've had in a long while' AND 'this is once again more garbage writing for red hood' back to back about the beast world thing is so funny
if i were new here i'd be so lost.
like it isnt new i think this happens every time there's a jason comic that isn't totally out of pocket for him, but seeing one after another a few times makes me snort
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smilesrobotlover · 7 months
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Whumptober day 10- alternative prompt, panic
Love at twilight!!!! :D it’s a strong focus on Rusl and the Ordon kids and I love it so much. Hope you guys love it too! Uh, this one is very mild, not a lot of whump, but there is a brief moment of panic. It’s a lot more lighthearted than the others. Anyways hope you like it as much as I do 🙃
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“Alright ya kidlets, are y’all ready for a daring adventure in the forest?”
Rusl looked out at the young Ordon kids who stared at him blankly. Rusl cleared his throat and gestured to Faron woods behind him.
“C’mon, I know y’all are excited.”
Beth yawned while Colin rubbed his eyes. It was pretty early in the morning, and these kids were barely teenagers, the oldest being fifteen, so being awake was clearly not something they wanted. Rusl swore that he didn’t sleep as much as they did when he was a teenager, but regardless they were all very tired and very much not excited for an adventure through the woods. His little three year old stepped up and put her hands on her hips.
“Toughen up ya sleepyheads!” She yelled out in her three-year-old voice, and Rusl chuckled.
“Yeah, you heard her! Wake up, you’re gonna need all your energy for today!”
Talo raised his hand. “Rusl, why are we up so early, and why are we going into the woods?”
Rusl clapped his hands excitedly and walked over to the kids. He’s been training them sword fighting. Mayor Bo believed that if another invasion were to happen, having just Rusl and Link there to defend Ordon would not be able to work, so he wanted the younger kids to learn how to fight in order to protect their home more. Renado wanted his daughter to be taught as well, mostly so she would protect herself in case anything happened. Rusl happily obliged, wanting to start training Colin anyways. The kids were all pretty excited to learn sword fighting, even Beth who didn’t enjoy that type of stuff. Rusl figured since all the kids were so close now that they loved doing anything together, so the training has been easy going for Rusl. But after a few months of training, Rusl wanted them to get more hands-on experience. He faced Faron woods and put his hands on his hips with Rela copying him dramatically.
“Talo, I’m going to see how far along you’ve come on your training, by venturing through Faron woods, and learning how to survive without the comforts of your home!”
There were various mixed reactions from the kids. Talo and Luda seemed pretty excited, Colin was indifferent, but Beth was pretty upset. He figured these would be reactions, so he faced them again and knelt down.
“It’ll only be for one night, we’re gonna practice our fighting skills, appreciate Farore’s gift to us, and learn how to survive in the wild.”
Beth crossed her arms and looked down. “Are there gonna be monsters?”
Talo paled a bit and Luda looked at Beth worriedly. Rusl shrugged.
“Who knows. We’ve cleared it out so there shouldn’t be, but if there are monsters,” Rusl grinned in a teasing manner, “then you’ll have to put your sword fighting skills to the test! Now let’s go!”
Rusl headed into the forest with the kids following him closely behind, making sure to hold onto Rela’s hand as they walked on the trail. When they reached a small river, he picked up his daughter and hopped on rocks effortlessly, landing on the other side. The kids watched him in disbelief and he waved them over.
“They’re nice and sturdy! Don’t worry!”
Talo nodded and hopped onto the rocks. Rusl set down Rela when he reached the other side and smiled. Rusl gave him a thumbs up and the others quickly followed. Rela sat there with her hands on her hips giving them all words of “encouragement”.
“C’mon you slow pokes! Hurry it up!” She would yell at Beth who was being very careful not to fall in the water. “There’s no wind to knock ya over, you can do better than that!” She yelled at Luda who nearly lost her balance on a rock. Colin hopped from one rock to the next, but slipped and fell face first into the water. Rela waddled over to her brother and crossed her arms. “You’re a failure!”
Rusl walked over to her and nudged her over to Talo, who was trying not to laugh at the little girl berating everyone.
“Sweet spirits above, Rela,” he muttered, and offered his hand to Colin. “You’re doing great Colin.”
Colin smiled and took it. “Thanks pa.”
When Beth finally made it to the other side, they continued onward, getting closer to the clearing Rusl wanted them to settle down in. He was relieved that there were no monsters. Although he joked about it earlier, the kids were not prepared to fight bokoblins, and with Rela here as well, Rusl didn’t want to put her in any danger. So the lack of monsters was a relief to Rusl. The others seemed relieved that there was no fighting as well. This adventure was just a lovely walk through the woods, minus Beth’s complaining about her feet. When Rusl saw the clearing, he smiled and turned to the kids.
“We’re almost there, don’t worry!”
The kids all cheered tiredly in response, and Rusl laughed. He spotted Link and Ashei and waved at them, and Link waved back, with his little two-year-old running towards Rusl.
“What’s Ashei and Link doing here?” Colin asked, watching Kori slam into Rusl’s legs.
“They’re here to teach you what they know about sword fighting! It’s best that you learn all the different techniques,” Rusl answered, picking up Kori and kissing his cheeks. “Besides, they had actual teachers, they know what they’re doing.”
The kids all ran to the clearing and greeted Link, while shyly greeting Ashei, whom they’ve never met before. Ashei looked more uncomfortable than them, and wandered off to grab the tent supplies.
“I don’t think she likes kids,” Link told Rusl with a chuckle. Rusl shrugged.
“Well she’s a great fighter, and I think she’ll help Luda and Beth feel more confident in their abilities, don’t you think?”
Link shrugged. “I guess. But if she makes one of them cry, don’t be upset when I say ‘I told you so’.”
Rusl smirked and smacked his son’s shoulder. He waved at Malo who was reluctantly manning the tent supplies, handing it to Ashei as if it were his shop. Rusl spun around and faced the kids, gesturing to Link and Ashei.
“Alright, these two are some of the best fighters I know, and they’re gonna show you what they know. Then we’ll set up the tents and make dinner. Got it?”
The kids nodded unenthusiastically and they all got to work. Link showed them what he knew, demonstrating the helm splitter, the ending blow, and the back slice. Rusl still had no idea who taught him those moves, it certainly wasn’t himself who did it. But he never thought to ask, and Link never talked about it, so it was never brought up. The kids all tried out the different moves, some of them failing at the helm splitter, which involved a front flip over an enemy after they'd been stunned.
“I think y’all should wait until you’re better at flips,” Rusl called out, and Link scratched the back of his head embarrassed.
Once Link taught them everything he knew, Ashei took over, teaching them her own moves. She was more quiet and serious with the kids compared to Link, but she showed her different skills with grace and perfection. She’s clearly practiced these moves a thousand times over, and it was almost mesmerizing to see her move. Link and Ashei were great fighters, but they were so different. Ashei’s skills were more so from learning and practicing, while Link’s was from actual experience from fighting. Rusl’s sword fighting was all self taught, so he was never given different sword techniques like the other two were.
Ashei watched the kids as they practiced her moves, fixing their posture and giving them some pointers to help them improve. Rusl watched happily as Beth kept asking her if she was doing alright, trying to be good in front of the cool lady. But he was pulled away when Link walked up to him with a concerned look on his face.
“A bunch of bokoblins showed up in front of the forest temple,” he pointed to the entrance, and up the log bridge, Rusl was able to see a small group of them. It looked to be three bokoblins, which was good. They would be easy to take care of. Link looked back at Rusl and crossed his arms. “Are you gonna have the kiddos fight them?”
Rusl shook his head. “No, I don’t want to risk any of them getting hurt.”
“Really? They’re just bokoblins. I mean, I was fifteen when I killed my first bokoblin.”
“Link, Luda is the only one who’s fifteen here. And you were easier to protect if something went wrong.” Rusl gestured to the kids who were finishing things up with Ashei. “There’s four of them, that’s gonna be harder to keep track of.”
Link looked down for a moment, pursing his lips. “It’s just three measly little bokoblins, pa.”
“I know, but I’d rather not deal with this right now. Bokoblins are stupid but they’re still dangerous.”
“What’s going on?”
Link and Rusl looked over to Ashei walking towards them.
“There’s a bunch of bokoblins up there,” Link said nonchalantly, a little too loud so everyone could hear.
The kids all gasped, looking either scared or excited.
“Are we going to fight them?” Talo asked in a small voice.
“We should! We’ve learned a lot!” Beth yelled out before Rusl could say anything.
“Yeah! We might as well put our skills to the test!” Luda agreed.
“I guess we could try,” Colin muttered, “I mean, y’all will be there to help us right?”
Link smiled at Rusl and walked closer to the kids.
“Of course we will! With all of us fighting together, those bokoblins will have nothing on us!”
The kids all cheered excitedly, raising their swords in the air as Link hyped them up. All except Talo, who was clutching his wooden sword silently. Rusl frowned at him, this didn’t seem normal for the brave and brash Talo…
“Talo,” Rusl stepped up, putting a hand on Link’s shoulder, “do you want to fight the bokoblins?”
Talo stared at him with wide eyes, and Rusl saw that he made a mistake. Everyone turned to look at the boy, and Talo shrunk back, tears starting to form in his eyes. Without warning, he darted away, running out of the clearing.
“Wait— TALO!” Rusl called out to him, and he sprinted after him. “Link, Ashei, take care of the bokoblins! Luda you’re in charge!” He yelled behind him before running out of the clearing. He looked around him frantically, just barely making out Talo’s red headband. He sprinted towards him, afraid that a monster was going to pop out and attack him. That was the last thing he needed. Finally, Rusl slowed down when Talo stopped, sitting by the river that they crossed earlier, crying. Rusl quietly walked up to him and sat down beside him.
“Talo,” he said quietly, and Talo peeked out from under his arm. “We’re not gonna fight the bokoblins, Link and Ashei are taking care of it.”
Talo sniffed and buried his head in his arms again. Rusl sighed and pulled him into a side hug, which he leaned into.
“What’s got you worked up like this Talo?”
Talo hugged himself closer.
“I don’t want to fight bokoblins…” he mumbled.
“Hey, we’re not gonna fight bokoblins, not anytime soon. I wanna start out with keese first, it’ll be easier—“
“I don’t want to fight monsters.”
Rusl stopped and stared at Talo. “Oh, I see…” Rusl stared at the rushing water, trying to think of what to say. “Why don’t you want to fight monsters?” He asked.
“‘Cause— ‘cause they’re scary! Bokoblins tried to eat me and a monkey! They kidnapped me and Malo and they kept us from going home. They—they kidnapped Colin and tried to hurt him, they just—they’re just scary!” Talo yelled out, flailing his arms around in a frustrated manner. Rusl just watched him silently, the events of what happened replaying through his mind.
He remembered when Colin frantically ran up to him, saying that Talo ran into the woods and was in danger, when he found Link bringing Talo back home safe and sound, when the bulblins broke through Ordon and grabbed all the children, when King Bulblin nearly killed Rusl when he tried to protect them, the screams of the children when they were kidnapped, when Colin told Rusl about King Bulblin tying him to a pole to use against Link, all the things that the poor kids experienced during the twilight invasion. It was no wonder why Talo was so scared. He was surprised the others weren’t.
“So, you’re scared of monsters,” Rusl stated, and Talo nodded. Rusl sighed and rubbed his arm. “Do you want to keep learning how to fight with a sword?”
Talo raised his head and looked at Rusl with puffy eyes. “I—I do! But— I—“
“Because you’re learning how to use a sword in order to fight monsters.”
Talon was silent for a moment, and he buried his face in his knees again.
“I’m sorry,” he sniffled, and Rusl gave him a squeeze.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I think that, if you face monsters more, then you’ll find them to be less scary. But we’re not going to face them now, ok?”
Talo nodded, and Rusl stood up. “C’mon, Link and Ashei are dealing with the bokoblins right now. We’re just gonna focus on building shelter and making food with what we got.”
He offered his hand to Talo who stared at him silently, but he finally grabbed his hand and Rusl pulled him up, wrapping an arm around him.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of Talo, monsters are scary. So don’t be embarrassed for being scared, ok?”
Talo silently nodded and leaned against him slightly as they walked. When they reached the clearing, Rusl noticed Link and Ashei cleaning their swords with the kids all watching. Link spotted Rusl and waved at him, and Rusl waved back. The kids all turned around, causing Talo to shrink into Rusl’s side a little, but Luda ran up to them and hugged Talo, with the others quickly joining in. Rusl smiled as he watched them all comfort Talo, even Rela and Malo joined in the group hug. Link walked up to Rusl as the kids talked amongst themselves, he was holding a sleepy looking Kori and he gestured to Talo with his head.
“Is he ok?”
Rusl sighed. “For now. He’s scared of monsters so we won’t be fighting them anytime soon.”
Link hummed and Ashei stared at the group.
“Well, the girls are ready to fight monsters,” she started, “you can’t hold them back for the boys to catch up, yeah?”
“You’re right about that Ashei. Maybe you could take the girls on a monster hunting trip sometime?” Rusl suggested. Ashei’s eyes went big and she stepped back.
“M-me? No— no way. I’m not good with kids…”
“Beth and Luda aren’t kids, Ash. They’re teenagers. Besides, I think they like you!”
Ashei grumbled and turned away. “They barely even know me!”
“Well, I think seeing a swordswoman gives them confidence in themselves, so I’m sure they’d love fighting monsters with you. But it’s a suggestion of course.”
Ashei glared at him for a moment, then waved them away.
“Let’s just focus on building up camp, yeah?”
Rusl nodded and walked over to the huddled up kids. Talo wasn’t crying anymore thankfully, and he seemed to be laughing at what the others were saying. It warmed his heart knowing that Talo had good friends to help him. And he couldn’t help but feel pride for his own son who was being compassionate towards him. He definitely got that from his dear mother.
“Ok, you four,” he sadly interrupted the sweet moment between the kids, “let’s set up camp ok?”
The kids wandered over to the tent supplies and with the direction of Rusl, they were able to make pretty decent tents. Rusl kept a close eye on Talo, but he seemed to be doing much better. Though there were some bumps in the road, Rusl would say that this night in Faron woods was a success.
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my friends keep drawing peppino butt booty ass naked
what the hell am i supposed to do??? do i join in or admire them from afar???
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theflatpackangel · 1 year
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Dps Night at The museum au where Neil is a sculpture that somewhat resembles the fallen angel painting
(This one)
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Todd is a regular visitor and eventually gets a job there but he falls asleep or whatever and all that magic stuff happens and Neil is the one who wakes him up.
Featuring Charlie as Jedediah, Knox as Octavius, Meeks and Pitts as a mural (theyre just here to take the piss out of everyone and be adorable) and Cameron as an annoying guard.
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I'm going back through my phone notes and I remember I was gonna write a fun kinda tongue in cheek TFA fic of Ratchet dealing with various interfacing related injuries and getting fed up with them all. Like Autobot-Decepticon truce situation, and he's gotta deal with stuff like Lugnut coming in with shattered optics because Strika sat on his face too hard, and Bulkhead comes in with minor electrical burns and arhythmia because Bumblebee accidentally shocked him, and Shockwave and Blurr coming in with friction burns in embarrassing places for reasons you can probably figure out. Like fun non-serious but embarrassing injuries. Then the punchline would be Ratchet getting a broken hip because he fell off the berth in the middle of getting busy with Arcee and the other medics desperately trying not to laugh while patching him up. That's for sure going on the future fics list.
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