#must pay attention to his proportions

[zarla-s]

matching sprays when you want to see how fast you and your friend can get kicked out of a server

From that one silly boykisser meme by mintpaws, though this was reffed from this take on it by beautysnake.

#team fortress 2 #heavy #medic #heavymedic #red oktoberfest #z art #z flash #go to bed zar #>8D #this is so stupid it makes me lol every time i look at it #how embarrassing are you willing to be? time to find out #tiny legs for heavy #must pay attention to his proportions #already tested the spray in a random community server and it got sprayed over almost immediately by someone else #success

[lovelynim]

Tiny Problems

Honkai: Star Rail - Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

A/N: I just finished playing 2.1 and I needed to get this out of my head

Summary: While trying to figure out one of Sunday's puzzles, Aventurine starts to have a little too much fun at the sandpit.

Word count: 1373 words

Warnings: Minor spoilers from Honkai's 2.1 main quest!

Ratio rubbed the side of his head, closing his eyes as he hoped to make time pass a little faster. Yes, it shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes for that pretentious gambler to find the missing pieces and they could move on.

What was missing on Ratio’s calculations, however, was how amused Aventurine would get with Sunday’s sandpit.

“Woah! Hahah, they even made tiny clothes for the stores around here!” Aventurine beamed with excitement, paying attention to every detail - except for the ones he actually should look for. “Look, doctor, don’t I look handsome in these? Do you think they have a regular-person’s size of these back in the Golden Hour?”

That futile, mundane idiot.

“I honestly think it’s impossible for me to care less about it, Aventurine. Did you happen to find any clue to where the missing piece is?” Ratio sighed, looking down at the sandpit as uninterested as he could be. 

His eyes could easily spot the shrinked blonde, running around like a little kid at some kind of amusement park. Was he really enjoying the sandpit that much?

“That man really outdid himself in these buildings, huh? But he could pay a little more attention to the NPCs…” Aventurine mumbled, clearly not paying any mind to Ratio’s concerns as he stopped by one of the food trucks. 

While the doctor complained about something that he promptly ignored, Aventurine walked around, trying to check if there was some sort of miniature food that he could try. “Hmm, is this thing hollow?” The gambler hummed, knocking on the truck’s window.

Maybe this was all part of the Family’s trial, Ratio thought while pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing in defeat. The key to the next room was just right there and, yet, Aventurine was refusing to collaborate. 

“How can you be having fun at a time like this?”

“How can you not have fun?” Aventurine snapped back in a cocky tone, looking up to see his giant coworker. “If anything, we can always tell that man about how hard we worked to get past his puzzles and meet him in person. Facing such hardships must be worth something, right?”

I gained nothing from dealing with a hardship like you, gambler,” Ratio groaned, crossing his arms in front of his chest while Aventurine resumed his little (pun intended) exploration. Was he talking to one of those NPCs he just complained about?

“Damn, these guys are so dull! I think they could use some of your teaching, doc!” Aventurine shouted with an audible chuckle, almost as if mocking Ratio’s growing frustration with his constant delays.

“Gambler,” Ratio called, his voice carrying his clear annoyance, “quit fooling around. Did your brain shrink beyond your body’s proportion? We have no time for playing around.”

Even with the size difference between them, just by Aventurine’s (small) body language, Ratio could tell the man was rolling his eyes. How utterly distasteful. “Come on, what’s the problem in having some fun while we are- w-wOAH!!”

Just as Aventurine was about to boast, Ratio reached out to the top of the miniature building where he was. The gambler could swear he had reached the limit of Ratio’s patience and he was about to get squashed like a bug… but, instead, Ratio carefully pinched the back of his coat and picked him up.

“You. You’re my problem,” Ratio said firmly, holding the other man in front of his eyes and watching him flail like a worm on the hook - a fitting metaphor for this situation, if you asked the doctor.

“H-hey, I could hear you just fine from the sandpit,” Aventurine giggled nervously, curling his legs and tugging at his coat, not really sure if Ratio would bother to catch him if he slipped past his grip. “But look at the bright side, doc, at least you only have a tiny problem, h-heheh…”

“...”

Aventurine gulped. Ratio’s angry face could be even scarier when he was a thousand times bigger, huh… “C-come on, don’t be angry! I was just trying to give you something to laugh about, you know? Have fun!”

“I’ll have plenty of things to ‘laugh about’ when we get back - after our work is done,” Ratio scolded, making Aventurine flinch in his grip, “but all you do is fool around. Are you understanding the issue here, gambler?” Ratio narrowed his eyes, scoping Aventurine’s body to allow him to sit on his palm.

Leaning against Ratio’s thumb, Aventurine remained in silence for a couple seconds while he looked around.

“Are you listening to me?” Ratio sighed, giving his best efforts to not squeeze the blonde like some sort of stress ball.

“Hmm…” Aventurine turned his attention back to Ratio’s face and, from that distance, his stupid (read: silly) smile was clear in the doctor’s sight. “Are you sure you don’t want to try to slip me in Sunday’s clothes? I think I’d even fit in his pocket like theEHe- h-hey!”

“You insufferable idiot,” Ratio groaned, poking Aventurine with his index finger, “are you even listening to me?!”

“H-hehey, doc! Thahat tihihickles!” Aventurine protested, using both his hands and all of his strength to try to stop Ratio’s finger from poking him. “C-cohome on! This ihihisn’t fair!”

“It tickles?” Ratio arched his eyebrow, resting his finger on top of Aventurine’s body while pondering about that new information. At his size, Ratio expected it to hurt, maybe even crush one of his ribs if he used too much strength… but tickle? Well, it was reasonable. Maybe with the right pressure and move, his touch could’ve - indeed - tickled. 

“You mean, like this?” Ratio grinned, gently wagging his finger against Aventurine’s small body.

“Y-yehes, stohop it!”

“Interesting,” Ratio mused out loud, leaning against the sandpit’s border. Swiping his thumb over Aventurine’s body, the doctor managed to push his arms out of the way and trap them between his own digits. “To think something like this would still work,” he continued, using his free index to rub Aventurine’s side.

“W-wahAHAhait, what ahahre you dohoing?” Aventurine laughed in confusion, bringing his knees up in a vain attempt to protect himself. It wasn’t rare for Ratio to overpower him, but having him doing it while he was in clear disadvantage was way worse! “DohOHOhoctor! Don’t ihihignore me!”

“I wish I could, but you’re too loud for that, gambler,” Ratio muttered and, despite his cold eyes, there was an amused smile on his lips. “As for your question, I’m doing as you suggested: seeking things to have fun.”

Ratio moved his finger against, poking Aventurine’s stomach as if he was some sort of toy. “You looked like a doll like this, gambler,” Ratio teased, watching the small man writhe in his palm, “you even make noise if I squeeze you like this.”

“AhAHAha, RahAHAhatio, stohop!” Aventurine whined, desperately trying to pull his arms down, but it was like his wrists were locked under boulders. All he could do was laugh and curse the moment he passed through that little gate - this was so unfair! “LehEHehet gohOHoh!!”

“Hm? Well, I could…” Ratio said, flicking his finger against Aventurine’s body and making him giggle some more, “if we went back to work and solved this puzzle. After all, how do you expect to meet Sunday when you look like a cheap toy?”

Deciding to show the gambler some mercy, Ratio lifted his finger and watched Aventurine’s little chest wave as he caught his breath. “I-I… ahah, damn, I’m not cheap, doctor!”

“...Is that the part that concerns you?”

“Of course, heh, my clothes are expensive and- waitwaitwait!!” Aventurine cried out, curling up into a ball in Ratio’s palm as he saw that evil finger approaching him again, “fine! Fine! I will work to solve the puzzle!”

Ratio huffed, turning around to put Aventurine back in the center of the sandpit, “very well. You do know how to make the smart choice sometimes.” As he stood back, Ratio watched the little gambler pat his clothes as if trying to fix them. 

Tsk, he was simply incorrigible.

“Gambler…”

“I know, I know! ~ Just hang in there, doc!” Aventurine chuckled, waving to his giant coworker as he resumed running around the sandpit. Time to get back to business!

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail tickling #aventurine #dr ratio #aventio #ratiorine #aventurine x dr ratio #lee!aventurine #ticklish!aventurine #ler!dr ratio #tickle fic

[jymwahuwu]

Cloud Knight!darling makes a bet with their fellow cloud knight friends that if someone in their group gets a high profile partner, they have to get married and have kids first😆😂

TADA! Darling gets 😱 General Jing Yuan?! And shockingly the exiled Blade! What luck to get TWO matches?! Unaware of the General's gaze on you (from behind you), you shrug it off and turn around to tell your friends that it's a pipe dream-

Uh oh- The general is standing behind you🧍‍♂️and wraps his arm around your waist to tell you that it's ok, you'll be given time to accept the match... But he didn't tell you that you're relieved of your job to serve him and be his little precious housewife nor the fact that he's requested for Blade to come back so you three could have a tiny wedding... With a small bump on your tummy of course🥰

-💦anon (that's constantly horn knee for blade and Jing yuan, I mean who wouldn't 😔)

Your brain has so many interesting ideas!! I LOVE THIS!! Would be freaking out and be so happy 🤣😳😳❤️‍🔥Think this matching service could be more dystopian, ostensibly consensual, but actually forced marriage...

CW: yandere, forced marriage, kind of dystopian

"Oh come on. What's so special about that matching service? I'm sure they'll match me with someone who doesn't even know how to fight."

"Huh? If not?"

"Hmph, getting married and having a baby? okay. Anyway, I'm of the marriageable age in Xianzhou."

Luofu recently arranged for people to go to a matching service to increase the proportion of the married population (loneliness in the universe is already one of the afflictions of long-lived species)… even though you are part of the army is no exception. You fold your arms, discussing the service with your cloud knight companions, curling your lips indifferently. You guys bet that if one of you is lucky enough to find a high profile partner, get married and have a baby first.

A few days later, you receive an electronic report on your phone and walk over to your companion. You were joking and clicked on the results together.

Matching Result: Jing Yuan, Blade (Warning: This person is wanted by Xianzhou. For your safety, the result has been backed up to Seat of Divine Foresight) Suitability for Marriage: 90% Suitability for Reproduction: 95% The results are based on rigorous scientific analysis, as detailed below: … *The system has automatically sent your information to your matching partner(s). We wish you happiness and look forward to seeing you get married soon!*

You opened your mouth slightly, and a big "?" appeared on the top of your head. You swipe the screen with your fingers, and checked it several times before you realized that it was not the person with the same name as General Jing Yuan, but the real General Jing Yuan… And that Blade you saw on the wanted poster? This is your matching result? And why can this service invade your privacy and automatically send your information to them? Too much confusion fills your mind.

Okay, this must be a pipe dream. You shrug and turn your head away, planning to tell your friend that you're going to ignore this.

Something is gently placed on your waist, it is a hand. Your back shivered from the close contact, and you let out a little scream, and turned around to find that it was…General Jing Yuan!?!? Jing Yuan was amused by your reaction, squinting his eyes, and Say hello to you. Cloud Knight's friends were petrified.

"It's okay," the general said softly. "I will give you time to accept the matching result. By the way, I have already booked the venue and date, for the wedding, you know. And Blade, he also expressed his willingness to return to Xianzhou."

"What-what?" Your mind is in turmoil.

Under the gaze of everyone, Jing Yuan kissed your forehead and left in a good mood. "I'll be visiting your house tonight, darling."

As for Blade, he is returning to Xianzhou from somewhere in space, and is checking your profile. Kafka is encouraging him and telling him what to pay attention to when meeting his future partner. Silver Wolf is telling him that he can refer to visual novels 💀

#[💌.from💦] #yandere jing yuan x reader #yandere blade x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #blade x reader #hsr x reader #hsr blade x reader #blade x you #hsr x you #alani.answers

[halfmoth-halfman]

and i think i'm gonna love you for a long, long time

Pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader Word Count: 585 Warnings: alcohol mention, fluff, gaz and reader being complete saps for each other Prompt: Dressed Up & "I really want to kiss you right now." Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. A/N: up next we've got a sweet, little drabble for @glitterypirateduck's GazFest 2023 💜

The wedding for one John MacTavish is a simple, beautiful affair.  

An outdoor event, themed in pale golds and dark greens, nestled in the soft glow of delicate string lights and moonlight. Love fills the air, swirling with a mix of laughter and happiness. There are no worries or stress, only the happy couple and their gentle dance as they smile and giggle with each other. 

It’s pure and perfect, but you don’t think about any of that. 

All you can focus on is the man sitting next to you. He’s not doing anything particularly special–his attention is elsewhere as he jokes and drinks with his captain while keeping a warm hand resting on your thigh–but you can’t help but stare. 

Beautiful is the only word you can use to describe Kyle Garrick. It’s so rare for you to see him dressed formally without the military fanfare. Not that you mind seeing him in uniform, but there’s something different about seeing him in a dark-colored suit with the golden light haloing his rich dark skin. 

He smiles wide, all shiny teeth and mirth, as he laughs at something Price says, and the exhale that leaves you is one of longing and desire. 

You must’ve been some kind of saint in a past life. The universe’s allowance to have him in your life has to be a gift, a reward for a good deed of herculean proportions. There’s no other way you could be so lucky to have met him, to be bestowed the privilege of his love. 

Price catches you staring, which isn’t hard considering that’s almost all you’ve done the entire night, and sends you a sly smile that you don’t pay attention to in the slightest. He tips his glass to Kyle, giving the sergeant–your handsome, perfect sergeant–a sly wink as he nods his head in your direction. Kyle tilts his head, turning around to catch your admiring gaze. 

He chuckles the moment he sees you, hand squeezing your thigh as he gives you a soft kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Having a good time?” he laughs, a look full of knowing as he meets your eyes. You hold his gaze, allowing yourself to get lost in the deep brown of his eyes.

When you don’t answer, too busy ogling him, he leans his forehead against yours with a knowing smirk. 

“What are you thinking about?” he murmurs, watching your eyes fall to his mouth. You look back up at him, blinking at him almost pleadingly. 

“I really want to kiss you right now,” you confess, a gentle purr of pure want. 

He hums thoughtfully, pretending to consider whether he’ll oblige you. You know he will; he couldn’t deny you anything anymore than you could him. 

You lean in, nudging his nose with yours in an attempt to get him to close the gap. Kyle laughs again, hand leaving your thigh to lightly grasp your chin and pull you in. 

You compare kissing Kyle to what heaven must feel like. His love is all-encompassing, surrounding you with warmth and love, leaving you feeling nothing less than cherished.

He pulls away first, and you chase after him, peppering kisses along his cheeks as they swell with laughter.

You don't know how you got so lucky, but he kisses you again, and you know that it doesn’t matter.

The universe has given you your soulmate–the other half of your heart–and you have no intention of ever letting him go. 

#gazfest #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #mw fics #moth writes #tw: alcohol mention #private

[whattraintracks]

1. Watching His Favorite Movie - every iteration I've ever seen

My headcanons based on vibes and thrown together in the middle of the night

1987 Raphael

becomes the most annoying person you’ve ever watched a movie with 

ever 

has seen this movie ten dozen times, can and will quote it by heart 

would rather make fun of everything in said movie, witty one-liners galore 

all the snacks which he chews obnoxiously and loudly 

1990s Raph 

as background noise to literally anything 

once he saw it and decided yep this is my favorite he never sat down to watch it again 

he's got things to do and ain’t nobody got time to sit down and watch a movie they’ve already seen 

just has it playing while he works out or cleans his sai or does chores or whatever 

but if someone tries to turn it off he will get pissed, he was paying attention thank you very much and that was the best part 

TNM Raph 

on his own, he either gets super into it or just passes out halfway through 

with some else, he must make them understand why this is in fact the greatest movie of all time 

the kinda guy that goes wait wait wait here’s the best part and gets mad when you don’t react correctly to his favorite scenes 

the guys hate him for it because they’ve all seen this movie a million times 

but Venus has not! and he takes full advantage of that fact 

2003 Raph 

is pretty thoughtful and quiet about it 

mostly because he likes to pull it out when he’s having a low-energy day or just feeling nostalgic 

must be doing something mindless simultaneously: knitting, eating, I don’t know, laundry?

is also super insightful about it, can and will dissect the plot 

hums the soundtrack to himself for the rest of the day 

2007 Raph 

prefers to watch with at least one other person so he can ✨ discuss ✨

always uses closed captions

loves the IDEA of sneaking into theaters to see it but can’t stand watching it straight through 

frequently pauses and rewinds, especially loves extended cuts and commentaries 

will get sidetracked halfway through by video essays and online debates courtesy of Donnie

2012 Raph 

his level of enjoyment is directly proportional to the amount of scoffing 

even alone actually, it's not just a tough guy act 

it's like when you know something is objectively awful but you unironically love it anyway 

if someone misreads this as dislike or disinterest and suggests turning it off they will be threatened within an inch of their life 

hates interruptions cannot stand people who talk while watching his movie and gets really frustrated when he can’t finish watching it in one sitting 

Rise Raph 

DO NOT GET NEAR HIM 

the closest available object and/or person will become his personal teddy bear for the duration of any scene that makes him emotional 

otherwise he’s reenacting the entire thing, as a one-man show or with his siblings 

definitely knows it by heart and all of the trivia 

particularly all the obscure actors and stunt people 

M&M Raph 

so loud, oh my wow, both him and whatever device he’s watching on 

reacts every time like it’s the first time he’s seen it 

especially loses his mind if he notices something he never has before 

talks about it for hours afterwards 

will subconsciously adopt all the catchphrases and verbal quirks 

#march for raph #zero evidence for any of this just felt right #i had this all ready to go and i was really happy with it when i realised i FORGOT 07 #don't worry i added him once i remembered #it's always 07 raph i'm so sorry you deserve better #raphael hamato #raphael splinterson #tmnt 1987 #tmnt 1990 #the next mutation #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2007 #tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #mutant mayhem #tmnt #whattrainofthought

[ukulelevillainwrites]

who follows the rules anyway?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

pairing : anthony lockwood x reader

word count : 7.3k

content : fluff scenes where i was kicking my feet as i wrote them, angst too with another fight, the plot thickens

taglist : @cassiopeiia24 @archiveoftara

note : it's like i blinked and suddenly 3 weeks had passed, i have no idea where the time went but i certainly did not want to post this so late thank you everyone for your patience i really hope you like this part (i like it a lot let me know what you think)

“What do you mean?” She asked with round eyes.

“There’s been a sudden increase in missing sources in the past two weeks. This happens at the same time you see Dufour selling a source she stole from a client. That’s too big to be a coincidence.”

“Well, that’s my cue.” Lockwood said as he was heading for the door.  “You should watch out, y/n, he’s going to be rambling for the next two hours.”

“Actually, I kind of want to hear this.”

She settled on the couch next to George, pulling a blanket over her legs. In this moment, there was nothing other than the light shining in George’s eyes as he went into further details and the softness of the blanket underneath her fingertips. About a week ago she thought she had seen him for the last time. That the last image she would have ever had of him was carrying his stuff in a cardboard box so damaged it was a miracle nothing was falling everywhere. Now here she was, listening intently as he told her about the operating system of an industrial-sized source-burning oven used at the furnaces and how time-wasting and inefficient it was to turn them on late. Her anxiety had made itself silent, her tears were dry, her breathing had slowed down. Maybe it was thanks to Lockwood’s comforting peace. Maybe it was thanks to her determination to see the positive even on the darkest days. Maybe she was lying to herself, drawing way out of proportion her ability to keep her emotions in check. Either way, she felt peaceful and warmth flooded her as she realized she got to listen to George’s crazy theories once more. She hoped many more evenings like these were to come. Her career plan may be out the window, but here she had found something she never got close to having at Fittes. She had found her home.

Lockwood left the room without a sound, smiling at his best friend’s enthusiastic tone and energetic hand gestures. She was too caught up in George’s explanation to notice him exiting the room and throwing her one last glance, relieved to see her smiling again. They stayed up well into the first hours of the following day, not paying attention to how late it was actually getting. They hadn’t realized how tired they were either apparently.

A ray of sunshine shone directly into her face. She reluctantly opened an eye to see the sofa in disarray and her blanket on the floor. She was exhausted. Her limbs were heavy, her clothes seemed to be made of lead. She turned her face away from the light, drifting back into peaceful slumber. She heard some light rustling and thought it was another one of her dreams. She was too tired to confront that girl again. But to her surprise she never came. Instead, she felt a cover being draped delicately over her. It was soft and smelled faintly of cinnamon. It was enough to put her back to sleep. As she was drifting in and out of consciousness she could have sworn she felt something brushing her cheek. She must have been dreaming.

She woke up crouched into the sofa, her legs resting on something harder than cushions and covered with a queen-sized blanket she thought she had dreamed of. Light was shining through the windows, the sun already high. She went to get up, but as she tried to move her legs a groan came out of the opposite side of the sofa. George was sleeping on the couch too, his legs underneath hers as well as a part of his torso. They were tangled up in one of the most uncomfortable sleeping position ever. Seeing them like this triggered her laugh which made George pull up the blanket over his head. She got up as delicately as she could so as not to disturb him. She stumbled into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and unaware of her surroundings.

“I was starting to worry you two might be in a coma.”

She jumped, bumping into the foot of the closest chair.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“What time is it?”

Lockwood told her it was almost one, laughing as he poured himself a cup of tea.

“I thought you’d be sleeping all day.”

“It would have been nice but we have a case tonight, right?” She mumbled. She wasn’t entirely up quite yet.

He smiled and handed her his cup. She warmed her hands on the mug, feeling more awake already. He went to pour himself another one but winced as he picked up the kettle.

“Your arm is still hurting?”

“Just a little, it’s nothing really…” He said, struggling to pour the hot water.

She got up to help him out but had to battle him to take hold of the kettle. She looked him straight in the eyes to silently convince him of letting her do this. He reluctantly let go, and she noticed his tie was undone.

“When did you wake up?” She asked as she poured him a cup.

“About two hours ago.” He said, taking a sip.

“And you didn’t tie your tie because…?”

“I didn’t have to go out yet.”

She might have only been living with them for a week, but during her time here she only saw him without a tie late at night once they had gotten home from a case.

She sighed and went to tie it for him. She raised her hands towards his collar. Before she could take hold of the blue fabric, he reached for them.

“I can do it myself, I swear-”

But his fingers had barely brushed her skin that he had to take hold of his arm. She looked back at him with a disapproving stare. He lowered his hands. She smiled with a triumphant grin, satisfied. He stood straighter with a sigh to allow her to focus on the knot. Slowly, she passed one band over the other.

“How did you manage to button your shirt in that state?”

“It… took longer than expected…” he admitted hesitantly, his eyes looking up at the ceiling.

She passed the larger band around the thinner one, passing it inside the forming knot.

“You need to learn how to ask for help.”

He looked down at her work and scoffed.

“You need to learn how to tie a tie.”

At that she tightened the knot around his neck, enough to startle him. His breath caught and for a moment he looked into her eyes with surprise. After a few seconds, she figured she had taught him a well-deserved lesson and loosened the knot carefully, maintaining eye contact. He still seemed to be holding his breath when she finally let go after neatly replacing his collar and making a few adjustments to the knot. Maybe she’d scared him. That would teach him to criticize her necktie expertise in the morning.

She sat back down, taking a sip of her tea before asking him if he was going to be okay on the case tonight.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“That probably means I should keep an eye on you. It could have been a very close call yesterday.”

“If you’re gonna keep an eye on me you’ll have to work on your rapier technique.”

“You’re so unfair! First of all, I saved your life. And second, I’m excellent with a rapier, Kipps mentored me every day when I was on his team.”

He let out what was probably the most honest laugh she had ever heard. She crossed her arms, vexed. He could be so infuriating.

“Kipps is mediocre at best.”

“Yeah right, like you could take him in a fight.”

“I could actually. I even brought back a trophy.” He winked at her. “Poor Quill never got over it.”

“Is that seriously the sole reason for your stupid rivalry?”

He nodded, smiling into his cup. He looked so proud. It was rather funny, but she was really close to slapping the grin off his face.

“That, and the fact you humiliated him.” George chimed in, coming through the door barely awake.

“Lockwood! I thought you were better than this.” She acted shocked, but they were all laughing.

“He’s the fully grown man holding a grudge.”

“Oh, right. And you’re just an idiot.” She teased.

He put a hand to his chest, like his feelings were hurt. George interrupted their banter to remind them of the case they had that night and what they were getting into. They organized the rest of their day, Lockwood insisting on training her this afternoon.

---

“Your stance is all wrong and the fight hasn’t even begun.” He left his position and took a step closer to her. “You’re already standing back in defense when nothing has happened yet. You have to look more confident otherwise you’ll lose the upper hand right away.”

“Sure, because confidence is a famous ward against ghosts.”

He wasn’t amused. Right then he looked like a strict fencing teacher bothered by his student’s lack of progress. She hadn’t realized placing her feet improperly could upset him so much.

“Just show me then.”

He came to stand right behind her, telling her to place her right foot a few inches farther from her left. He got closer, a serious look on his face. He really wasn’t joking anymore. He turned slightly around her and lifted her chin to make her look right in front of her. His eyes were sharp and focused. They didn’t linger on her face and he didn’t seem to notice hers getting rounder at the sudden contact of his fingers with her jaw. His other hand was on her waist, adjusting her position a few inches. He then came closer, mimicking her stance like he was her shadow, and took hold of her arms. She felt his breath in her hair. He strengthened her grasp on her rapier and lifted her right arm at the correct angle. It must have triggered his pain because he lost his balance, leaning against her before staggering backwards.

“Are you okay?”

“My arm’s a little sore, that’s all.” He was already trying to get her back into position.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this today.”

“Really, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. I’ll cover you for tonight, I’ve done it before I can do it again.” She said, leaving her position to look at him. “No matter how skilled you are you’re not in the right state today, Lockwood. It’s okay to rely on others, you know?”

He didn’t even acknowledge what she just said before adding

“Just try to hold your arm lower than you usually do so you don’t cramp up. It’ll allow you to gain stamina and it could save us some time.”

George called them from the kitchen, he needed help with the bags.

“How did you know-”

Lockwood was already climbing the iron stairs. She shook off the feeling that he could see right through her. It was good advice. She focused on that part and made a mental note to remember it tonight.

---

The case had gone even better than the night before. Sure, it was just a Type One so it wasn’t as dangerous. But they were more coordinated, more organized and more methodical. Lockwood hadn’t gotten into a near death situation, which was a significant improvement. He had been in the last two cases they had been on together, it was enough for her to think it was a common occurrence.

She felt like she was part of a proper team again. However, now she didn’t feel the need to impress anyone. She wasn’t craving the praise and admiration of her team leader. It was liberating. She was free to do her job without worry. It made her feel more confident in her abilities too. She didn’t need to prove anything and she didn’t feel watched all the time. She had found a team that helped her grow.

They established a rotation of their roles, alternating who had to dispose of the source, who had to oil the chains and who had to give the keys back to the client the following day. The guys made her feel instantly like she was an essential member of the team.

The following day, two new clients made appointments. Then two others called. It was like she had blinked and then it had been a week since she’d been officially hired. The cases kept coming but she didn’t mind. Before all the drama of her professional life, she had loved her job and being part of an agency. It was risky, most of the time it sucked. But it was rewarding. And in the end she felt like she had a purpose, like she was making the most of the circumstances and helping out in her own way. The clients kept calling and the cases kept piling up, as if there was an outburst of paranormal activity. It wasn’t unusual to see an increase in hauntings nearing November, but she had hardly seen anything like this. Though Fittes had a lot more resources and maybe it hadn’t affected her team as much. With just them three they had a lot more work on their hands. It could get overwhelming at times but it kept her mind busy and she was thankful for that. It helped keep her dreams under control too. She hadn’t woken up in a cold sweat since she had seen the girl at the foot of her bed. And whatever she wanted from her, she was too busy to even think about it.

Another week passed. Time was flying and she had really gotten used to Portland Row. After a case she threw her rapier in the broken flower pot that stood as an umbrella stand with the others, smiled at the smell of toast coming from the kitchen, she was home. She knew what steps to avoid on a late night or an early morning, she started to know the names of the books in the library, she was even familiar with George’s filing system for their cases and his research, something even Lockwood found hard to follow.

She was grateful for George. He had brought her here. Well, she had followed him here but he was the reason she had stayed. And ever since he had made his best to make her feel at home. They had grown closer, they were actual friends now. Sometimes she assisted him on research, but mostly during the few moments of rest they had she sat at the kitchen table while he was cooking. Listening to him rambling was probably one of her main activities. But it kept her mind off her future, her responsibilities, her family who still thought she worked at Fittes. And she got to learn about random things that could always be useful someday. Once, she managed to find a source that had been hidden in a compartment inside a fireplace thanks to George’s detailed description of their nineteenth century construction technique.

Lockwood would sometimes join them, but it was rare. When they were home, he either had errands to run or paperwork to fill out. Late at night if they had a moment of rest he mostly sat in the comforting silence of the library with a magazine. He was still somewhat of a question mark. She hadn’t figured him out quite yet, but they got along. Training had become a regular thing. Once his arm had healed he had turned into the fencing teacher he aspired to be. He helped her improve her technique, her reflexes and stamina. She immediately saw the difference with the way Kipps used to train her. Kipps followed the rules, he’d always been behaving according to a script and every single one of his movements had been rehearsed. Because of him she had always thought that using her rapier was something that had been decided upon. There were rules and if she wanted to be good she had to stick to them. Anthony Lockwood was different. He was an artist with a weapon in his hand. He knew all the rules, sure. But he was creative, resourceful. Everything she had been taught so far was just a blank canvas to him and he used it to paint the most beautiful pictures. During their fights, he always found a way to gain the upper hand even when she thought her maneuver couldn’t be overpowered. He was so imaginative it was impossible to beat him. And he always looked elegant, no matter how long they fought he remained graceful until the end. It annoyed her every time. She always ended their sessions drenched in sweat and out of breath, her hair a mess. He looked slightly disheveled but overall unaffected. He didn’t even have the decency to act like she was a worthy opponent. His lessons were formative but also a great source of frustration. But it was all in good fun. It had helped them get along better. Though she didn’t feel like she had made much progress since the night he hired her. They would tease each other every now and then but aside from their training they didn’t spend that much time just the two of them. She didn’t know if he kept his distance intentionally or if it was just the normal relationship they should be having as colleagues. The night he comforted her was still very clear in her mind. She remembered vividly the gentleness of his tone and the warmth of his smile. She thought after that it would feel like they were actual friends but something was missing. She still considered that night to be special. It held a meaningful place in her mind, she hoped she would feel closer to him at some point. If she got George to come out of his shell, anything was possible.

Though, her optimism slightly faded the more she saw his behavior with others. She’d quickly learned that he had a natural charisma he used quite often, with clients, DEPRAC or anyone that might get in the way of what he wanted. He had different tricks he’d combine to make the best impression: listening intently to the requests, or sometimes orders, to seem polite and respectful, shine a wolf like smile to seem convinced and reasonable, then start a great speech with a serious tone and a hint of compassion, to end with that same grin she had soon learned was hard to say no to. What bugged her was that when she listened to those seemingly understanding tirades and saw him subtly smile, she got flashbacks from the night he hired her. It seemed a bit too familiar. It particularly disturbed her one night when the client they had been working for joined them right after they finished clearing her house. She had gone away during their inspection but was too preoccupied to sleep and had decided to stay nearby. When they debriefed the case and told her the ghost was very aggressive and was in fact her mother like she had suspected, she got emotional. Even more so when she was told the source was her own childhood stuffed animal. She was overcome with grief and the team tried to comfort her the best they could. She was on the steps in front of the house, too devastated to come in. She was barely older than them. y/n had felt much pain for her. Yet her attention was drawn to Lockwood, and how he comforted her. She was angry at herself for thinking about this. That girl was going through a lot and all her mind could focus on was how her colleague was behaving with her. She didn’t know what to say to ease her pain so she decided to make her tea. When she brought it to her she found out Lockwood was much more at ease than she was. As she reached the doorstep, she saw him sitting with their client.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you. I guess we’ve got that in common. How fun.” Their client tried to sound sarcastic but she was still sobbing.

“It gets better, I promise.” Lockwood put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to let people in, you might be pleasantly surprised.” He gave her a warm smile that, from afar, looked terribly similar to the one he had given her. It was like she was watching the scene from a few weeks ago, replaying here in front of her. Only this time she wasn’t part of it. And that smile wasn’t for her. She slowly closed the door, went back to the kitchen to pour a new cup of tea for Lockwood. She went back out and handed them their cup. He thanked her and smiled the same way he had a few moments ago, but it didn’t mean as much now.

She had tried not to pay too much attention to it yet she couldn’t help but feel like Lockwood had been lying to her somehow. She thought he had cared about her, since he had acted like a close friend would have. But every time she saw him shine his smile to someone else she realized it hadn’t really meant anything to him. Maybe getting close like she and George were would be harder than expected. Every time she thought she was close to figuring him out she went back to square one. It wouldn’t be the only thing that had made her notice how wrong she could be about him. His whole rivalry with Kipps and overall pride he made no effort to hide instinctively indicated that he was someone who would understand why she needed to clear her name, but apparently not.

After two weeks of late nights and intense work, they finally caught a breath. The phone had stopped ringing and they could finally enjoy a day off. They woke up late, George cooked a breakfast so big it could only be described as a feast. They had all planned to relax but George being George he intended to go to the Archives anyway.

“But you spend all your days there already!” y/n told him.

“Yes, but today I can research stuff I never have time to look into. Like that whole Dufour thing.”

“You’re not still into that, are you?” Lockwood lifted his eyes from his magazine.

“I just want to see if I was right!” He said, exiting the room.

“Of course you’re right. You are every time.” Lockwood mumbled, going back to his reading.

There was silence after he had gone. It was the first time in weeks that she was alone with Lockwood and they didn’t have to talk about work.

“You really think that he’s right?”

“From experience I’d say so, yeah.”

“Then I think I’m gonna go with him if you don’t need help with anything.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“If that bitch is involved in something big I have to find out!” She meant it as a joke, but part of it was true.

She got up to join George, but Lockwood caught her hand.

“You should let go of that whole thing, y/n. It’s not healthy to dwell on it.”

It took her a minute to answer. Her mind had gone blank the instant his fingers had brushed against her wrist.

“That woman fired me and is selling stolen sources. I want bad stuff to happen to her.”

He laughed lightly.

“I get it but… just be careful.”

“I will… I am.”

He nodded slightly, releasing her hand. His eyes didn’t leave her as she went to find George. Her hand still tingled as she stepped through the front door.

When they got to the Archives, the streets were buzzing with activity. They reached the inside of the building and the noise fell silent, everyone inside focused on their task. Despite the crowd, they managed to find an open spot. George was happy to have her with him that afternoon. Mostly because he wanted to go through the news coverage over the last month and had selected not one but four different newspapers for the task. With a hundred and twenty papers to read, he was glad he had extra help.

“What are we looking for exactly?”

“Anything that could be relevant to Dufour or relic-men. Something that could be part of a bigger operation linking them to the furnaces.”

“That doesn’t really narrow it down…” But he didn’t even notice what she said, he had already started reading.

They had two newspapers each, covering every day of the past month. She picked up the first one on her pile and started looking through the pages for any useful information. There wasn’t anything addressing relic-men or a dealing of sources. The columns dedicated to the Problem were focusing mainly on the advances made by the Rotwell Institute or the donations Fittes had provided to the victims of ghost-lock. One more death by ghost-touch wouldn’t make the headlines. She closed the first newspaper and reached for another one. George was scribbling at high speed in his notebook.

“Did you find something interesting?”

“Yes, about 3 and a half weeks ago there was a short article that mentioned the death of a man the police assumed to be a relic-man. Usually newspapers love this kind of story because relic-men really apply themselves when they kill a rival. It’s the kind of gruesome tale that boosts their sales. But here it’s very brief, talks succinctly of a settling of scores but nothing more. It’s a little surprising, maybe there’s more to it.”

His imagination paired with his attention to detail led to impressive discoveries in seemingly random information.

“Maybe you should double check mine when you’re done…”

She kept reading, the pile of newspapers decreasing slowly. She didn’t manage to find any groundbreaking piece of information, but she did notice the repetition of burglaries in different neighborhoods. It had been mentioned five or six times over the last few weeks. The stolen objects where the usual type of thing: jewelry, money and anything worth selling. But some objects stood out in the list made by the reporter because they were all antiques. The articles suggested that the culprit or culprits might be collectors, but George would certainly find another explanation. She pitched him her theory and he started to write even faster. She didn’t think that was possible. She was glad she could finally help, they had been here for two hours and she hadn’t contributed at all until now.

George got right back to his research but y/n needed a break. She told him she was going to get them some tea but he was already deep into another newspaper.

She got up and started to make her way outside. She climbed down the stairs, putting her jacket on. She headed for the door, but someone caught up with her and grabbed her arm. She turned around to see Quill Kipps with an uncomfortable look on his face.

“y/n, hello… I’m glad I ran into you…”

“I really don’t have time, George is waiting for me.” She dismissed him. She wasn’t over the comments he had made and she lacked the patience to have an entire conversation.

“Oh, some work to do for Lockwood & Co?” He said with an uneasy laugh. That kind of small talk didn’t seem to be his forte.

“Yeah.” She looked at the door, trying to send a message.

“I-I didn’t know you were… um… working there.”

She pressed her lips into a thin smile. She was actually curious to see what he was going to say next.

“You should watch out, Lockwood’s an idiot.”

Unbelievable. For arch nemeses they were behaving awfully similar. Though it would be unfair to say that his comment wasn’t accurate sometimes.

“That’s funny because I hear similar things about you back home.”

“Oh, it’s your home now?”

“Kipps, seriously what do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

“Well, you’re doing a fantastic job!” She pushed the door and rushed outside. She didn’t know if it was Lockwood’s loathing of the guy that had rubbed off on her or if it was simply this conversation but she had had enough of him. Unfortunately for her he was persistent. He ran after her, telling her to slow down.

“What?” Her tone was cold and menacing.

He took a step back.

“y/n… I’m really sorry about what happened at the furnaces. It was insensitive and really dumb of me and I’m sorry.”

He seemed honest enough. She looked up.

“I’m worried about you. You were one of the best agents I’ve worked with but now there are some pretty bad rumors going around Fittes…”

“What rumors?”

Something shifted in his attitude. He was worried but he also seemed afraid of something she couldn’t pinpoint. He tried to put the next part delicately but it had the opposite effect.

“Many agents have been saying things about you going… bad? Like… on the wrong side of psychical work…”

Her stomach twisted and the fact that he spoke in riddles didn’t help. Was he afraid of her?

“Just spit it out, Kipps.”

“According to some probably unreliable sources, you’d be working closely with… relic-men.”

“You can’t be serious.” The blood left her cheeks.

“George too…”

She felt light-headed.

“Given your reaction I’m guessing I was right not to believe them.”

“How gracious of you.”

“y/n I’m serious. I may have only worked with you for a month but I know how seriously you took your job. And given the proportions this is taking I just wanted to offer my help.”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t seen today’s paper?”

“No… why?”

He pulled out a newspaper. On the front page the head title read “Rogue agents: should we be doing more?”. She looked up at him, a million questions flooding her mind. That article couldn’t be about her, right? He gave her an apologetic smile and asked her if she wanted a cup of coffee. He didn’t wait for her answer and led her to the coffee shop next door. Her eyes hadn’t left the article as they sat down. The reporter was explaining in great details that agents, after seeing so many traumatic things, needed to be eased back into society before returning to a normal life. He invoked psychological explanations that remained unclear. He advocated for the creation of a rehabilitation program to keep ex-agents under control so they didn’t end up on the wrong side of the law. He went as far as offering a mandatory two-month long camp of sorts for troublesome young people. He justified his remarks with murky reasons. Having worked in the field for many years, she knew this was all bullshit. But to someone who had never been in her shoes, it would be convincing without a doubt. But the worst part was yet to come. To emphasize the urgency of this issue, the reporter used examples of agents who had apparently gone wrong, citing several supervisors as his source. Apparently, a certain Fittes supervisor had been the witness to concerning behaviors coming from two young people, now ex agents, who had been caught committing several felonies, including maintaining business relations with known relic-men. Right there, on the following line, appeared her name. The reporter ended his piece in a dramatic tone, underlying the fact that those wrong doers hadn’t been apprehended by DEPRAC and remained at large.

She threw the newspaper back on the table.

“It wouldn’t have surprised me that much to hear that Karim was part of this. But you… It seemed impossible. And I really wanted to check up on you.”

She didn’t know what to say. Her name was being dragged through the mud. And what, she was going to be forced in a rehabilitation program made up by some trashy reporter and all  because of the same person who fired her? Like ending her career hadn’t been enough. She was taking the blame for the crimes she had seen Dufour commit.

“I need to… get out of there.”

Kipps got up as she stood up.

“Can I keep this?”

“Yes, whatever you need.”

She smiled, or at least tried, and pushed the door of the coffee shop. Before she left Kipps called her.

“y/n, I’m on your side okay? You can count on me.”

“Thank you.” She answered faintly. She was still shaken. She couldn’t believe the proportions this was taking. She had finally started to let go of her time at Fittes and all her efforts were reduced to nothing with just one page in a newspaper.

She rushed back to the Archives, desperate to show the article to George. He hadn’t noticed how long she had been gone, he didn’t even say anything about the tea she didn’t bring back. His notebook was filled with new facts and arrows linking some of them together. She sat down next to him. He didn’t look up, he just started talking, saying something about repetitive power outages. She pushed the newspaper Kipps gave her in front of his notes.

“What’s this?”

“Today’s newspaper. We made the front page.”

“What do you-”

His eyes were fleeting across the paper. They grew wider as he went further.

“This is a joke, right?”

“I wish it was. Maybe it’s just a nightmare and I’ll wake up on the couch with your feet in my face.” She tried to ease the tension she was feeling but none of them laughed. She was self-conscious about being in a place filled with agents. Did they read the paper too? Did they know who they were? She heard two people whispering on her left, she turned to look, George did the same.

“Maybe we’ll be better home.”

“Yeah let’s get out of here.”

No one had said a thing the whole way home. They were both lost in thought. George opened the front door. They took off their jacket and instinctively went down to the kitchen. She put the kettle on while he got some biscuits. They sat facing each other, seeking comfort in the sweetness of cookies and the warmth of their tea. Lockwood entered the room and was taken aback by the look on their face.

“What happened to you both? You look like you’ve seen a ghost in broad daylight.”

“We ran into Kipps.” George said without elaborating.

“I can understand how this could ruin someone’s day.” He smiled broadly.

“It’s not about him.” y/n snapped. “It’s about this.” She handed him the newspaper.

Lockwood skimmed through the article, still smiling. He didn’t look affected at all.

“Well, this is obviously ridiculous. But there’s no need to panic over a badly written article.”

“Lockwood this is on the front page!” George exclaimed.

“Rumors are starting to spread at Fittes.” y/n said in a monotone voice.

“I understand that this is an uncomfortable position to be in but it’ll blow over. There’s no need to overreact, juts keep a low profile.”

“I’m not gonna sit still while Dufour is out there ruining our reputation after already ruining our careers.” She stood up. “We’ve got enough dirt to bury her with what we found today.”

Lockwood gave her an exasperated look. George didn’t notice and began going over his notes, explaining the connections he had made.

“There’s clearly a link there and we can act on it!”

“Absolutely not!”

The temperature had dropped several degrees. The tension in the room was palpable. At least y/n felt it. But George had kept on going, starting to come up with a plan to follow Dufour and see what she was up to from up close.

“George.” Lockwood interrupted. “You’re reaching. It’s a coincidence at best and you know it. It wouldn’t be the first time relic dealing affects other industries.”

“Come on! Don’t you think that-”

“No. I don’t. Please try to focus on the real cases this business needs and don’t get stuck on another obsession.”

“You’re so unfair! You’re the one who keeps telling me that George is always right and that we should listen to his instincts!” y/n cut in.

“And I also told you that you shouldn’t do what he does. The last time you did, it got you fired.” Lockwood turned to her, his arms crossed. How often was he going to go into that well?

“Because you’re always so good at following made up rules…”

“I’m being rational and grounded, which in this case makes me exemplary.”

“Right, and that’s coming from the guy who disregards his own safety most of the time and doesn’t acknowledge that the risks he takes are completely unnecessary.”

“You’re the one who wants to play right into her game! Can’t you see that she’s waiting for one of you to slip up so you can take the blame for everything she’s done?” He gave both of them a warning look. He made a good point, but he was much too aware of it and she didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“I’m serious when I say do not act on it. Dragging Lockwood&Co into this mess would be the last thing we need.”

His last words ignited the flame already burning inside her.

“This is all this is about, isn’t it? If your name was the one being tied to crimes you didn’t commit you’d be the first to convince us to do something about this. But when it’s the other way around you have to think of business first.”

“This company is all you have left!”

“Rather you’re all we have left, right? The great Anthony Lockwood rescuing us and being a hero. How glorious of you!”

He scoffed and closed exasperated eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“You need to keep your ego in check, Lockwood. You need us as much as we need you!”

“If you want to cut your safety net then you can go! But as long as you work in my company, you’ll have to listen to what I have to say. It’s my name on the door and it’s my decision.”

She stormed out of the room and went up to the attic. His lack of understanding was too much to bear. She wished he had listened. Was it really too much to ask? She really thought that he would see why she needed to do something instead of laying low. Him of all people should understand. She guessed she didn’t know him as well as she thought.

She spent the rest of the day in her room, brooding, thinking about Dufour. The nerve she had to blame her for everything she did. All of this because she offered a different solution than hers to a client? Sure she broke into her office after that but it still seemed extreme.

She didn’t feel like going downstairs for dinner. She wasn’t really hungry anyway. But even if she had been, she didn’t want to face the obvious tension that would follow. She had gotten used to Lockwood’s warm brown eyes, but today they had been cold when he looked at her. She hadn’t been arguing with a friend or roommate or whatever they were, he had been her employer and she was expected to follow his orders.

There was a knock on her door. It was George, bringing her some food. He put the plate on her nightstand and sat next to her on her bed.

“Thought you could use something to eat.”

“That’s sweet of you, thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Upset. And overwhelmed. But I’ll be okay. It’s just a lot you know?”

“Yeah… I still tried to convince Lockwood over dinner. You were right not to come down, it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. He’s dead set on burying this whole thing.”

At least she had one ally in this house.

“I don’t understand his reaction. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Don’t overthink it. He’s just… like that sometimes.”

She didn’t say anything for a while, lost in thought. George went to get the plate he had brought up and put it in her hands.

“You should eat. Don’t worry, you’ll be back to teasing each other in no time.” She froze. After a second, she looked up and saw him look so proud of himself.

“That’s not what this is about! What are you even getting at?”

He laughed and put a hand over her shoulder, rolling his eyes. She wanted to push him off her bed, but one bite and she surrendered, forced to compliment him yet again on his cooking.

The following morning y/n was the first one up. Sleep had cleared her mind. If Lockwood wasn’t going to help them, then she would take matter into her own hands. The plan George had started to elaborate the night before had grown into her mind. Following Dufour would really help her know what she was up against. George’s theory was a good start, but to take action she needed to know more about her operation, her clients, her associates. What was she in charge of exactly? How did she cover her tracks?

She walked into the kitchen with purpose. Today, she was taking her life back. She brewed some tea, poured herself a cup and ate toasts as she started to devise her plan on the Thinking Cloth. She remained vague on purpose. If Lockwood saw it, he would think it was just theoretical, like one of George’s ideas. She was so focused that she didn’t hear him coming in. He poured himself a cup of tea, but it was only when he spat it out that she noticed he was there.

“Why do you always make your tea so bitter?” he asked way too loudly for this hour of the morning.

“I think it suits you…” She mumbled, her eyes still set on the table.

He poured more water in his cup but still groaned when he tried it again. Desperate for silence, she got up and grabbed the sugar.

“Here, maybe it’ll soften your mood too.”

“No!” he exclaimed too late. She was already adding sugar to his cup. The opposition only made her pour more of it.

She felt him glaring at her. She tried not to smile, knowing it would infuriate him further and make her morning even less enjoyable. She sat back down and grabbed licorice from the bag that rested on the table. As she went to take a bite he slapped her wrist, making her drop it.

“Ow! What was that for?”

He didn’t bother to answer. He simply took the bag of licorice and left the room. She thought many things of Anthony Lockwood. He was a prick and an idiot, hot headed and impulsive, stubborn, but she didn’t know petty was also part of the list. He quickly said something about meeting an old friend before slamming the front door on his way out. It must have woken up George since he stumbled into the kitchen sleepy-eyed just a few minutes later. She didn’t intend on filling him in about her plan just yet. She wanted to have tangible result before dragging him into it.

She took a while longer to get all the details of her plan. She had tried to plan an itinerary that checked all the important places she needed to stake out. She would try to do as much as possible in one day. Once she had a clear idea where to start, she went up to the attic to finish getting ready. In the hall, she told George she had some errands to run. She put on her shoes, grabbed her coat and was about to open the door when the bell rang. She looked through the peephole. A tall thin man and a woman where standing in front of the door, a DEPRAC van parked right outside the house. She hesitantly opened the door.

“Good morning. I’m inspector Barnes, this is inspector Wade. Is George Karim here?”

“Um… Yes. Yes, he’s here. Should I go and get him?”

He ignored her question.

“Are you miss (y/n)?”

“Yes… I am…”

“I’m gonna have to ask you both to come with us.”

———

PS : I'm probably gonna open the next part with a couple of scenes from lockwood's pov ;))

#ukuwrites #who follows the rules anyway #lockwood and co fic #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x y/n #lockwood and co imagine #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #george karim #quill kipps

[bethanydelleman]

The scene where Edward walks in on Lucy and Elinor in London is SO awkward! Edward comes to see Elinor but Lucy is also visiting, then Marianne walks in. Edward very nearly just walks right back out. Here is what everyone knows:

Edward knows he is engaged to Lucy but likes Elinor. He does not know what the women know, unless Lucy has told him something.

Lucy knows that Edward likes Elinor and vise versa.

Elinor knows everything.

Marianne knows nothing.

This interaction is so hard to read, especially after Marianne arrives. Everyone is hiding their feelings except Marianne and she is so excited to see Edward. He must feel like a terrible person. Which is good. But also, poor guy.

Scene:

Elinor was prevented from making any reply to this civil triumph, by the door’s being thrown open, the servant’s announcing Mr. Ferrars, and Edward’s immediately walking in.

It was a very awkward moment; and the countenance of each showed that it was so. They all looked exceedingly foolish; and Edward seemed to have as great an inclination to walk out of the room again, as to advance farther into it. The very circumstance, in its unpleasantest form, which they would each have been most anxious to avoid, had fallen on them.—They were not only all three together, but were together without the relief of any other person. The ladies recovered themselves first. It was not Lucy’s business to put herself forward, and the appearance of secrecy must still be kept up. She could therefore only look her tenderness, and after slightly addressing him, said no more.

But Elinor had more to do; and so anxious was she, for his sake and her own, to do it well, that she forced herself, after a moment’s recollection, to welcome him, with a look and manner that were almost easy, and almost open; and another struggle, another effort still improved them. She would not allow the presence of Lucy, nor the consciousness of some injustice towards herself, to deter her from saying that she was happy to see him, and that she had very much regretted being from home, when he called before in Berkeley Street. She would not be frightened from paying him those attentions which, as a friend and almost a relation, were his due, by the observant eyes of Lucy, though she soon perceived them to be narrowly watching her.

Her manners gave some re-assurance to Edward, and he had courage enough to sit down; but his embarrassment still exceeded that of the ladies in a proportion, which the case rendered reasonable, though his sex might make it rare; for his heart had not the indifference of Lucy’s, nor could his conscience have quite the ease of Elinor’s.

Lucy, with a demure and settled air, seemed determined to make no contribution to the comfort of the others, and would not say a word; and almost every thing that was said, proceeded from Elinor, who was obliged to volunteer all the information about her mother’s health, their coming to town, &c. which Edward ought to have inquired about, but never did.

Her exertions did not stop here; for she soon afterwards felt herself so heroically disposed as to determine, under pretence of fetching Marianne, to leave the others by themselves; and she really did it, and that in the handsomest manner, for she loitered away several minutes on the landing-place, with the most high-minded fortitude, before she went to her sister. When that was once done, however, it was time for the raptures of Edward to cease; for Marianne’s joy hurried her into the drawing-room immediately. Her pleasure in seeing him was like every other of her feelings, strong in itself, and strongly spoken. She met him with a hand that would be taken, and a voice that expressed the affection of a sister.

“Dear Edward!” she cried, “this is a moment of great happiness!—This would almost make amends for every thing!”

Edward tried to return her kindness as it deserved, but before such witnesses he dared not say half what he really felt. Again they all sat down, and for a moment or two all were silent; while Marianne was looking with the most speaking tenderness, sometimes at Edward and sometimes at Elinor, regretting only that their delight in each other should be checked by Lucy’s unwelcome presence. Edward was the first to speak, and it was to notice Marianne’s altered looks, and express his fear of her not finding London agree with her.

“Oh, don’t think of me!” she replied with spirited earnestness, though her eyes were filled with tears as she spoke, “don’t think of my health. Elinor is well, you see. That must be enough for us both.”

This remark was not calculated to make Edward or Elinor more easy, nor to conciliate the good will of Lucy, who looked up at Marianne with no very benignant expression.

Ch 35, Sense & Sensibility

#sense and sensibility #the heights of awkwardness #edward ferrars #elinor dashwood #lucy steele #marianne dashwood

[sapphire-drawings]

What do you think will happen when all the survivors return home? And Wilson and Webber what will happen to them?

There are many possibilities but I have 2 in mind

LOOOOONG POST

Scenario Number 1

They escape and are transported to Wilson's house since there's the door he built The idea of going separate ways after an eternity working together is. . . Odd and most of them are just not normal anymore, so they build around the area and create a community only for them. Not like Wilson lives near enough society for anyone to notice the weirdos living outside

Wendy goes back with her father tho and they visit every time they can, maybe even move closer. After all, they're all family

(Don't pay attention to the perspective, don't pay attention to the proportions. Just DON'T pay too much attention to the picture, ok? I like how they're all looking at the door like "so that's THE DOOR" Yeah they've probably seen Maxwell's door before but this is THE DOOR, yk?. Also, only 2)? of them were captured through one of those so it must be interesting to look at)

(I say only 2 of them (WX and Winona through Wagstaff's door/portal) because, even tho Wilson build the Door, he was captured through the ground, not the door, like, why even build it? Was it needed to begin with? Is it that there needs to be an active "door" for Maxwell (or Them) to capture people?)

Scenario Number 2 Or "bad ending", if you will

They all go back to the places they were sucked in (Or the nearest place possible since, you know. . . Wicker's library and the Voxola factory. . . )

Wilson is back home, finally free from the place he was tricked more than once, from having to fight for your life every second, from Them who trapped him for who knows how long he's finally free. . . and alone

He lost the family he gained, he choose and loved. Constantly thinking in the poor Monster child. . . HIS child

Weeell that was long enough hahsashaha Hope you enjoyed all that broken english and nonsensical ideas!

For the record, this isn't the first time I've drawn ALL the characters (All the not-DLC Characters (It is my first time drawing Wanda)) Wurt, Wortox and Woodworm are not there cuz they belong to the Constant.

Abigail? Always by Wendy's side <3

Charlie? Consumed by the shadows/Them?

Wagstaff? Somewhere else as always

Wallani, Warbucks etc. ? I don't know, they're not part of DST so. . . I don't care lmao!!

The Codex Umbra? Maxwell has it. . . ~🍪

#sooo many tags #Chafi Replies #I shamelessly traced over a screenshot of the forbidden knowledge short for the second pic lmao #maxwil #there's an easy hint there #dst #wilson p. higgsbury #dst wilson #dst maxwell #dst wendy #dst webber #dst willow #dst wes #dst wx78 #dst wickerbottom #dst wigfrid #dst woodie #dst wolfgang #dst warly #dst wanda #dst walter #dst winona #dont starve #dont starve together

[nana-kom]

Bonjour ✨️🎀

I offer you today a precious plot my friend.

imagine, Changbin who one night receives an email in his spam saying that he has been selected by the wish factory to grant him a wish from the moment he reads this email. Changbin, not believing in it, then sarcastically wishes to gain 50 kg by the end of the year. And strangely after that moment everything was put in place so that he could gain weight (closed gym, new fast food, constant hunger, a metabolism that stored fat very easily and a boyfriend who liked to see him eating so well)

How do you think he will react? 🤭

Bonjour 💜💫

Hope you’ll like it ! 🤭

Make a wish

While he should have been resting all day, all Changbin had been doing at the start of the year was administrative work and sorting documents on his computer. It's not that he didn't like it, but he would have liked to spend the day with his friends, or at least have a good meal. But as the day was drawing to a close, he was finally going to get some rest, until one of the e-mails caught his eye.

YOU'VE BEEN SELECTED TO HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE A WISH

CLICK TO WISH AND MAKE IT HAPPEN

Changbin rolled his eyes at the spam in front of him, sighed and rise from his chair, not noticing that the page had opened in his browser. He then went into the kitchen to start making himself a meal for the evening.

"Thats so stupid...a wish ? Come on. Thats never going to works...Im not that stupid Internet..." He laughs as he continues to cook. "Like I'm going to say: a wish ? Oh yes dear internet browser make me gain 50 kilos before the end of the year!" He said, continuing to laugh as he cooked himself his meal.

What he didn't notice was the page on his computer refreshing itself at the sound of his voice, then closing itself as if nothing had happened. That evening, Changbin went to bed for the first time on a full stomach: not only had he finished his meal, but the gurgling of his stomach had drawn him to his desserts, which he had just emptied from the cupboard. It was unusual for him to eat so much, especially in the evening, when he was usually careful. But his mind scrambled, taking him down a new path, a new constant hunger, and a stomach in need of food.

It wasn't long before these events occurred with increasing frequency. Changbin found himself ordering home in the evenings, having food delivered, passing a patisserie and buying a dozen before going to work, enjoying the sweets on offer in cafés, accepting meals from friends, and even cooking a larger proportion for himself. The most surprising thing was that his gym had closed, preventing him from regular physical activity, and a new feeling took over in his body, the laziness of doing sport, and his old desire for sport was replaced by the feeling of preferring to be at home and eat a good meal. What he didn't even notice in his changes was his belly becoming more and more prominent, those tshirts finding it harder and harder to contain, but Changbin didn't seem to notice. His appetite over the last few weeks had increased tenfold and he was taking a certain pleasure in eating so much, as if there was something behind it.

But even if he wasn't paying attention to all these little changes, someone, his dear friend Minho was noticing that his friend was looking a lot plumper than before. Changbin's face had become rounder in recent weeks, almost giving him a younger look, his muscular arms began to jiggle more and more as he walked, and his thighs even began to touch as he walked. It was the same for his belly, which must have been much softer, and he sometimes found himself gently massaging it as he ate, feeling a pleasure inside him that he'd never felt before. When Changbin noticed that his favorite pants didn't fit him anymore, he looked at himself in the mirror and was quite confused: how long had his face had a double chin ? And why was his belly starting to cover his pelvis ? Changbin shrugged his shoulders without really seeming to care. He then put on one of his jogging suits and joined Minho in town, who had offered to take him to a buffet, which Changbin couldn't say no to. Minho was quite observant and had noticed every change in Changbin's body, and he intended to make the most of it. Minho had noticed the changes in his friend's body, and he would have been a fool not to take advantage of the situation. After all, what could be better than his lifelong crush turning into the feedee of his dreams ?

Changbin arrived at the buffet and Minho greeted him, and headed for the restaurant's banquettes, before taking a seat opposite him. Changbin was surprised to see that his belly was touching the table in front of him, and wanted to move back, but there didn't seem to be enough space between him and the bench. Minho watched the scene unfold before his eyes with a smile, observing the way Changbin didn't really know how to live with this new body, as if he thought he was still fit and muscular.

"Something wrong binnie ?" Minho asked, Changbin lifted his head and droid again, and his belly suddenly slid under the table, finally making him some space.

"No...its just...I thought space was tight... "

"Yes thats the same for me actually...dont worry" Minho said with a smile, and Changbin felt reassured that it wasn't just him, even though Minho unlike Changbin seemed to have plenty of room to be comfortable whereas the only thing that was wide on Changbin's side was himself.

"Do you want me to choose for you? Looks like its gonna be difficult to...stand...because of the space you know..." Changbin looked at Minho, slightly surprised by his proposal, but agreed. After all, he'd already come on foot, and he didn't know why, but recently walking had become more...complicated...as if he'd become heavier somehow.

Minho wasted no time in getting up and filling plates for his friend, who was waiting patiently for Minho to bring him his food, which he was already salivating over. Minho then placed a few plates in front of him, before leaving to serve some more. Without a moment's thought, Changbin began to eat, and Minho saw him start from his side of the buffet and hurried to fill the plates, not wanting to miss out on the show his friend was about to put on for him. He then returned to Changbin and began to eat in his turn, but I couldn't help but look at Changbin who was practically inhaling his food, everything was going so fast and he almost had the impression that his friend didn't have control over his body, and if he did then he looked more like a pig than a human. Minho then swallowed and Changbin continued to fill his stomach, feeling that he still had room to put more inside, he felt so much better with so much food around him. The sushi were delicious and every mouthful delighted him, the side dishes were just as excellent and little by little his stomach demanded more, it was almost as if it was made for him to gorge himself to the max. Changbin then continued to lose himself in the food under Minho's watchful gaze, and everything came to a sudden halt when Changbin's T-shirt, far too small to contain his enormous belly, began to roll up under his breasts, revealing his big, full belly. Minho's eyes widened and he barely had time to react when he saw Changbin shrug his shoulders and continue eating as if nothing had happened, while all around them everyone had noticed this obese man gorging himself like a pig.

"Youve seems to enjoy yourself recently right binnie ?"

"Mmh...what?" said Changbin with his mouth full, Minho then stood up and slid next to him on the bench seat before grabbing his belly in his hands.

"How can you ignore this wonder, you look so cute with these big fat cheeks and that belly of yours...how did you do this to yourself ?" Changbin look at Minho a little bit confused and then look at his belly, yes he was fat but...had it changed that much?

"M'not that fat." replied Changbin as he continued to eat, not wanting to lose his rhythm, while Minho continued to gently massage his belly, allowing him to release the air that was blocking him but also to take pleasure in this now sensitive area. Minho smiled softly and whispered to himself.

"For now... "

The months passed and the relationship between the two grew, Minho continued to ask Changbin to see him and Changbin was always enthusiastic about spending time with Minho. Minho who gave him the best belly rubs, Minho who took care of cooking for him, Minho who never came without dessert, Minho who brought him clothes in size XXL and more, Minho who did everything for his little Changbin...well not that little. Because with this new lifestyle, this new way of eating, he was getting fatter and fatter, stretch marks had appeared on his belly and thighs, redecorating his body. His belly now formed a double belly, which usually protruded from his T-shirts, wings of fat had formed on his back, and his double chin had become so prominent that it prevented him from lowering his head properly. Changbin had even had to adapt his apartment to his new size, taking care to change some chairs for sturdier ones, and as Minho was practically living with him now he hardly needed to do anything to get food, simply waiting for it to come to him, and Minho had everything to fill the black hole that had become Changbin's stomach.

And finally the end of the year arrived, Changbin's body had changed drastically over the last few months and his body was now composed of pure fat, his belly fell so low in front of him, that sometimes he was embarrassed to walk, his arms also formed several rolls that jiggled when he deigned to move, yes Changbin could walked. But he changes so much that even Minho was discoing more to love everyday. And finally at the new year, when midnight came, and the year end Changbin felt as if he had come to his senses, he looked around and the only thing in front of him was a pile of food waiting for him, Minho with food in his hands for feeding Changbin and his protruding belly facing him. Changbin straightened up and hurried (well, at his own pace) to the bathroom, set his eyes on the mirror and was surprised to see himself in it. What could have happened ? How could he be so fat ? He felt like his old self has disappear, but on the other hand, it was as he'd absorbed his old self in fat as far as the eye could see. Changbin then climbed onto his scales, which hadn't been used in months, looked down and was surprised to realize that he couldn't see his feet or the number on the scale; he felt his heart pounding and flashbacks of the year came back to him as he went along. *Why did I let this happen?* he asked himself. And suddenly Minho came up behind him , confused and when he saw him on the scale he looked at his lover with a smile, finding it adorable how Changbin looked on those scales but unable to read his weight.

"Need help babe ?" Changbin turned around in surprise.

"Minho what happen to me ? How can I be this fat ? Look at that ! My belly...how can I have a double belly ?"

"It's more like a triple but whatever...I mean how would you like to be ? Skinny ?" Minho start laughing. "With the way you've been eating all this year there's no way for you to be thin."

" But...how ? I didn't... " Suddenly Changbin remember his wish. " Minho how much Im weighting right now ? " Minho looked at the scale, caressing his boyfriend as he passed, it was always a pleasure to touch Changbin's bulges specifically those on his buttocks.

"You're 132 right now...oh woh, you're such a big boy...look at you my lovely piggy..." Said Minho as he cuddled him tenderly, taking his belly in his hand and starting to play with it.

"I GAIN 50 KILOS THIS YEAR ? FUCK. I know what happen !" Changbin then said, heading into the living room before picking up his computer, followed by a confused Minho.

He then opened his e-mails and began to search through his inbox for e-mails from the past year, but nothing had turned up. Sighing, he looked at Minho, who sat down beside him and continued to cuddle him, as if to reassure him. Changbin smiled softly, it's true he'd put on weight, but in addition to his 50 kilos he'd also gained a tender and affectionate boyfriend. He then kissed Minho gently on the cheek, and Minho was quick to return the kiss, showing how much he loved him. Suddenly they heard a notification on Changbin's computer and turned their heads towards it. Changbin clicked on it and the e-mail appeared.

Did your wish come true ?

click here for one more wish, so much to gain, nothing to loose

Minho looked at Changbin, who seemed confused, and realized what must have been going on all year. Minho stroked Changbin's belly before moving his hands up to his double chin.

"No need to wish more Binnie, I'll make you weight gain myself. I'll make you into my perfect Dwaekki."

#weight gain fic #chubby skz #chubby kpop #weight gain skz #weight gain kpop #kpopfeedism #chubby changbin

[pantoneyoongi]

the sun & the stars | 03 | kth

title ; the sun & the stars pairing ; taehyung x you

word count ; 5.6k

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

description ; 

taehyung’s known you almost his whole life - his sister’s best friend, the girl who invades his home and his life on the daily. you’re the one who gave his sister the nickname ‘sky’ to begin with - and also the one who relented when he whined about it at age five and said okay, you can be the stars, then. 

it’s funny, because to him, you’re just the petty, mischievous neighbor from across the street with a penchant for stealing his snacks. but over the years, you’ve somehow landed yourself a reputation that stretches beyond the 1.5 year age gap he has with you - for someone who generally likes to keep things low key, you sure have a way of drawing attention. 

sky’s friendly, teasing best friend is known for being cold, impassive, and immovable. which is weird, because when he’s around you, all he sees are unabashed grins and terrible jokes. until he realizes maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. maybe they’re right - it just so happens that the walls you throw up around him look a little different from the walls you throw up around everyone else. 

tracklist ; willow - taylor swift, give me your forever - zack tabudlo ft. billkin, limbo - keshi

tags ; college!au, best friend’s little brother!au, childhood friends to lovers, angst, fluff, mentions of absent parents and financial instability, bestie jinyoung!, brief mentions of infidelity, there is tiny tiger!tae support in this but let it be known i am team bear ok 

you’re not sleeping well. 

you hate to admit it, but it’s true. you’d think after working yourself into the goddamn ground you would knock out as soon as you hit the bed, but no. your brain has other plans for you, including ensuring you get no rest even when you do fall asleep. the nightmares don’t even make any sense, they just make you tired by the time your alarm goes off in the morning. 

you know your friends worry about you. they always do. but you can usually keep them at bay, distracted by a grin and a well placed, overly chaotic story told entirely out of proportion to what actually happened. but you must sincerely be starting to look like shit, considering the number of times taehyung has both texted you and told you to your face that people need eight hours of sleep to function, sun. 

yeah, yeah, yeah. hours, shmours. sleep is for the financially stable. 

“jesus christ, y/n!” jinyoung smacks your hand away before you can burn yourself on the boiler. you haven’t been paying attention and you startle at his voice. “are you kidding me?” 

jinyoung’s worry usually comes out as mild aggression. it starts off with sass and ends with frustration, so if he’s halfway to yelling at you, then you’ve already gone too far and will be inevitably subject to jinyoung’s line of questioning. for now, he just stares you down with a pinched expression, like you’ve annoyed him for being too obviously distracted. 

“sorry,” you mutter, rubbing your forehead. you really don’t have much to say for yourself. 

he gives you a long look before tossing you a towel. “we’re talking about this later. finish cleaning up, closing’s in twenty.” 

you don’t argue. with a sigh, you lower your head and start to clean up, wiping down counters and restocking sauces. when you’re done, you find jinyoung leaning against the wall outside the back door, waiting for you. 

in a lot of ways, jinyoung’s a lot like you. not just in the live-to-work, work-to-live sort of way. he’s resilient, from years of having to fend for himself. reclusive, from learning to put his own wants on the backburner just so he can survive. like you, jinyoung puts everyone around him first, and himself last. 

while your childhood friends know that you work probably one job too many, you don’t tell them much about what that really means for you. you don’t tell them about the empty house you went home to as a kid, or the way it feels to look out into a crowd during school events and know your parents won’t be there. you don’t tell them the stress that weighs on you when it comes to managing your finances, how nothing ever feels like it’ll be enough. that the degree you’re studying isn’t because you enjoy it, but because you need it. you need the security it’ll offer you once you have the diploma in your hands. 

sky, taehyung, and jimin’s lives feel so pretty. they glitter, like something out of a movie. you don’t want to disturb the waters. you like the way the light reflects off them. if they know how deep you’re drowning, the glass will shatter, and you think maybe you will, too. 

jinyoung’s different. like you, jinyoung doesn’t live in a romantic movie montage. he’s as cynical as you pretend not to be, but while you live your life in constant states of escapism, jinyoung faces reality head-on. for him, it is what it is. and because he’s a good friend, he forces you to face it too. 

“i heard a rumor,” jinyoung interrupts the silence the two of you have been walking in. you stiffen. jinyoung presses forward. “sounds like namjoon and sky have been getting close these days.” 

jinyoung is one of few people you’ve ever let your guard down around. he knows about your parents, he knows about seokjin, he knows almost everything, and vice versa. it’s easy to rely on each other when the foundation feels like common ground. 

you shrug. “that doesn’t have anything to do with me, jinyoung. i’m her friend, not her keeper.” 

“sure,” jinyoung says agreeably. “but you haven’t said anything about it yet, which means sky didn’t tell you, did she?” 

you really hate that jinyoung knows you so well. 

you purse your lips. “she has every right not to.” 

jinyoung pauses, making you stop beside him. you make the mistake of looking at him, when he says, “you know seokjin wasn’t your fault, right?” 

of course you know. you know, but also, you very much don’t. every logical part of you agrees that seokjin wasn’t your fault, but the guilt caving in on you says otherwise. 

sky didn’t tell you about namjoon. she didn’t tell you, and you get why. it stings a little - it stings a lot - but you understand. you’d want to keep namjoon a secret from yourself too, if you were sky. 

all things considered, you think you got the better end of the seokjin shitshow. which is kind of a pathetic sentence, but it’s also the truth. if two best friends were going to fall for the same dirtbag anyway, you’d argue that the one who got to hold his hand and call him her boyfriend for at least a short stint probably got the lesser of two evils. especially if the other option was having your feelings played perfectly like a puppet on strings. 

seokjin was unfair. unfair to you, but truly, devastatingly unfair to sky. you know he left her with insecurities and you resent that you played a part in it. you hate that he made her feel like she was less than you, somehow. as if sky isn’t the best part of you. 

he made her feel special, just not special enough. he made her feel seen, just not worth being seen with. and he made her feel like the worst kind of friend, for helplessly falling for someone that belonged to somebody else. 

you have no interest in namjoon. it’s not about that. but because of seokjin, some part of sky is still hiding, still scared that she’s not interesting enough. that she’s not worth holding onto, that no one will choose her. 

that they’ll always choose you instead. 

you don’t consider yourself all that special. you’re not nearly as interesting as the rumors make you out to be. and you would never interfere in sky’s relationship, not if he’s good to her. but there’s a reason sky chose not to tell you, and you feel like you can only blame yourself. 

“she’ll tell you,” jinyoung’s gentle, for once. can see the way you’re shaking, scared of losing your best friend because you played a part in making her feel like she wasn’t enough. “hey. she will, sun. on her own time. she’ll tell you everything.” 

you try to smile back. you do. but you really don’t want to fuck this up. sky likes namjoon, and you’re terrified of getting in the way again. 

worse, something more selfish tries to push through the cracks. something that looks a lot like the empty house you used to return to, with all the lights off, and no one to greet you. 

.

.

.

whoever invents teleportation can have your firstborn child. trudging around campus in this weather is starting to get real old, real fast. 

you’re tired. tired enough that your head hangs a little as you walk, dragging your feet down the sidewalk. you should’ve stayed home, skipped lecture. but this professor takes attendance, so you unfortunately don’t have much of a choice. 

you come abruptly to a stop when someone steps in front of you, halting yourself just in time before you can bump into them. you’re about to mouth off at whoever walked directly into your path, but the glare on your face melts right off as soon as you see taehyung’s familiar face before you. 

“oh,” your shoulders lower back down. “tae.” 

he stares at you, long enough that you start to fidget a little under his gaze. taehyung’s always been on the quieter side, preferring to sit on the sidelines and watch rather than be in the midst of it all. so you’ve always filled the space, but the longer he stares at you, the less you seem to know what to say. 

he can tell you’re hesitating. struggling to find something to say to him, looking uncomfortable in your own skin. like you feel bad about something. his gaze softens, and he unwinds his scarf from around his neck, which prompts you back into action. 

“what are you doing?” you ask, taken aback when he wraps the scarf around you instead, fluffing it up so it covers your ears, too. “taehyung?” your voice gets muffled from behind his scarf, and he smiles at that while you blink back at him. 

“keeping you warm,” he says simply, and he can’t see your mouth behind the scarf, but he knows you’re frowning, can tell by the crease you get in your forehead. 

“what about you?” 

he shrugs. “heat rises up.” 

immediately, the tension breaks. you straighten up at his nonsensical answer, “you calling me short?” 

he smirks, and you forget anything that just came out of your mouth. what? what were you yelling at him about? when he bends down to meet your height, you also forget how to breathe. 

“am i wrong?” 

he’s so close that you lose all functioning thought. which is odd, because this is taehyung. but your heart is pounding in your chest and you swallow hard, but you refuse to back down, even when you can feel your cheeks heat up from the way he’s looking at you. 

taehyung doesn’t get like this often. but sometimes he’s cheeky, invades your personal space, reciprocates your affection for him with more than just acknowledging grunts and soft smiles. you might be fine laying your head in his lap, but taehyung usually keeps his hands to himself. on the rare occasions that he doesn’t, you entirely forget how to act. 

sometimes, you forget that taehyung is twenty, and not three anymore. 

a grin escapes him when you have nothing to retort, rendered silent by the quick pace of your heart. he likes that your cheeks are pink and you still look a little defensive but you’re too flustered to say anything. 

he rises back to height, patting you on the head. “you looked cold. keep the scarf, sun. i’ll see you later.”

he wanders off like nothing’s happened, while you try to re-regulate your heart rate. you try to convince yourself that you like the typical taehyung more, the one you can bounce around and annoy and he’ll just stand there, fondly exasperated. 

but the occasional confidence that emerges out of taehyung is the only one that makes your heart stumble in your chest, inexplicably. it’s the taehyung that you’re scared of, but can’t help wanting more of. 

head buzzing with thoughts that never quite take full form in your head, you make your way to class, dazed. 

a faint smile lingers on your face the whole way. 

.

.

.

jinyoung is a good friend. a good guy, in general, which you typically find far and few between. he’s loyal, he’s honest, and he’s genuine. 

“you should just talk to her.” 

he’s also really annoying. 

“i do talk to her.” you move to the next table, setting down the plates and napkins. jinyoung trails after you, setting down utensils. 

“your group chat doesn’t count, sun.” 

you fix him with an unamused look. “i’m just busy. finals are coming up.” 

“and yet somehow, you can still find time to eat with her little brother. how interesting,” jinyoung deadpans, and the nerves run up your spine so fast you don’t have time to hide the flush that goes up your neck to the tip of your ears. 

“that’s different. he’s just a kid,” you argue, and decidedly don’t look at jinyoung, who you’re sure is giving you the don’t bullshit me look. taehyung is just a kid. he’s sky’s kid. kid brother. who is twenty years old. 

exactly. a kid. 

a kid with a really warm scarf that smells nice. like him. like home. 

jinyoung sighs, waving you off. “you know what? we’ll unpack that later. one thing at a time.” 

you try not to feel too relieved that he’s dropping it. feeling relieved means there is something there to think about, and you’d rather literally anything else. 

jinyoung stops you at the next table, dropping his handful of utensils onto its surface. “i’m serious, sun. you know sky. she’s not gonna approach you first, and she’s probably feeling just as bad as you do. do you really wanna drag this out?” 

you chew on your lip. he raises his eyebrows. “sun,” he looks at you pointedly. “exactly how well did that go over for the both of you, last time?” 

(spoiler: poorly. it went very poorly.) 

you slowly narrow your eyes at him. you hand him the plates you’re carrying, and he takes them silently, still waiting for your answer. 

then you throw your hands in the air, stomping your feet away and throwing your head back, grumbling loudly, “fine! i’ll talk to her! i’ll communicate, like the grown adult you keep telling me i have to be!” 

he smiles. 

jinyoung is so annoying. 

.

.

.

you resent jinyoung for having perfectly sound logic. you hate confrontation. 

does it still count as confrontation if you and sky are just laying on the floor, side by side, staring at the ceiling saying nothing? 

for hardwood, your floor is surprisingly comfortable to lay on. both you and sky have pillows tucked under your heads, feet propped up against your bed. you’re both lost deep in your own thoughts, neither of you having said a word since sky got here. 

you wonder which of you will cave first. usually, it’s you. but you feel tongue tied, and no order of words that you rearrange in your head sound right when you think about asking her about namjoon. they all feel accusatory, even when they’re not meant to be. 

but then, as if hearing your thoughts, sky breaks the silence. 

“he’s a good guy, sun.” 

you try not to visibly react. “namjoon?” 

“namjoon,” she confirms. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you about him.”

this makes you turn your head towards her. she’s still looking up at the ceiling, lower lip drawn into her mouth. she looks nervous, and it tugs at your heartstrings. 

“you’re not obligated to tell me everything, sky.” 

“i know,” she says, finally turning to look at you. “but i do. i tell you everything. but it… it felt good for a little bit. that he was my secret.” 

you stare back at her, trying to understand her. sky’s your every exception. everyone knows it. she’s your best friend. you would give up the world for her, let her get away with anything and everything. because no one’s been there for you like sky has. no one lets you escape the world the way she does, lets you slip into her life and offer everything she has out to you. 

you met sky when you were five. five’s too young an age for your parents not to be home, but that was simply your reality. it was scary to be home alone, but you got used to it eventually. it’s less scary to come home to an empty house if you know you can always walk over to sky’s. 

you never explicitly told her that your parents weren’t ever really home. that they were too busy working, which meant you were often left at sky’s place with your house key slung around your neck. but sky could fit the pieces together eventually, or maybe her parents explained it to her. that sometimes some kids just live life a little differently. some houses don’t glow with the same lights. 

you don’t know. you didn’t ask. it was just mutually understood between the two of you that you were never going to have dinner on the table with both your parents the way sky always did. 

her home was always lit up. warm. there was always life in it, her mom bustling around the house, or her dad grilling something in the backyard. or there was taehyung, trailing after his sister, begging to be a part of your games and play-pretends. 

sky’s never minded sharing. she shared her toys, her stories, her home, her family. with you. you could forget how lonely it was to say good night by yourself because in the mornings you went running over to sky’s. they say you would do anything for sky, but it’s really sky who would give anything for you. without question. 

in high school, that meant hiding how she felt about seokjin because you were too enamored with him to notice. but you’re not in high school anymore. years have passed since seokjin happened, but even healed wounds can still leave scars. 

you and sky are still best friends, but it’s still you who is the reason she has scars to begin with. 

you turn away from her, facing back to the ceiling. “he seems nice, sky.” 

she gives a wry smile. “you met him for two seconds.” 

you make a noise that admittedly sounds uncannily like a wince. “he had good vibes.” 

sky hums. “he does have good vibes.” 

“and he’s very tall.” 

“very tall.” 

“could probably throw me.” 

she laughs. “and me. at the same time.” 

you both burst into laughter at that, sky turning her head back to you again. “i think i like him, sun.” 

you glance at her, see the sincerity in her eyes when she says it. the mix of hope and excitement, the slightest touch of hesitance that comes with a crush, overwhelmed by the exhilaration. she likes him, a lot. it makes you smile. “yeah?” 

she smiles back. “yeah.” 

.

.

.

it’s not something you say out loud, but it is something that’s always been obvious to you: you owe sky everything. you could only get this close to a normal childhood because you had sky. the least you can do is protect her so she doesn’t get hurt. 

the rumors say you’re overprotective, that you don’t let anyone near her, but it’s not true. you know sky lives her own life, that you can’t shield her from everything, but what you can do is keep the persistent, unwanted ones away. you can give your opinion on whether you think the people in sky’s life are genuinely there for her, or to abuse her kindness. but sky’s always made the final decision. whether she keeps someone around or gives you free reign to get creative in keeping someone out of her life, it’s her choice. 

you know what it is you’re really afraid of. of course you want sky and namjoon to work out, to be happy. her entire demeanor shifts when she talks about him, when she so much as thinks of him. it speaks a lot to how safe he makes her feel, how kind he is to her. 

what you’re afraid of anymore isn’t that namjoon will hurt her. what you’re afraid of honestly isn’t even that you’ll cause problems, because you would sooner remove yourself from sky’s life than ruin her happiness. 

which is exactly the issue, isn’t it? 

your mind thunders. 

selfish, selfish, selfish. 

your heart aches. 

lonely, lonely, lonely.

.

.

.

with finals rolling in, your days somehow simultaneously get longer and shorter. you’re up later, you wake earlier, and there’s still not nearly enough hours in the day. 

if the exhaustion was obvious before, you are now currently the definition of it. you feel like you almost constantly have a headache, and you’re so fucking tired you could probably fall asleep walking if you didn’t make enough of an effort to stay awake. 

you haven’t seen any of your friends in days. not sky, not taehyung, not even jimin has popped in to check in in person, and he’s the most likely to actually leave his apartment. everyone is too busy drowning in their own educational misfortunes, though the group chat does ping every so often: 

jimin: do u think i could make it as a stripper

tae: is that not ur current occupation

tae: do u know how many people have told me about seeing your ass

jimin: omg u think im pretty enough to be a stripper? 

tae: campus does 

you: don’t encourage him 

jimin: it’s good money

you: when you develop the coordination to sit in a chair without falling over, lmk 

sky: jimin you can be a stripper on the side. how good are you at biochemistry 

jimin: are u srsly asking the business major how good i am at biochemistry 

but for the most part, it’s silent. maybe distantly you can hear the aggrieved sound jimin makes whenever he opens a textbook, although it’s more likely it’s just the same sound that comes out of your mouth as you trudge out from your closing shift, wishing someone would just carry you home so at least you could take a nap on the trip back. 

your wishes manifest in the shape of one kim taehyung, who has apparently developed the habit of quietly appearing in front of you, without any form of announcement. you’re too tired to care that he seems to be insistent on letting you walk straight into him instead of just informing you of his presence, mumbling a vague apology before you look up and realize that it’s him. “star?” 

you don’t often use the old nickname, but sometimes it just slips out. you do think it suits him. taehyung isn’t really the type to be described as ‘bright’, but you’ve seen the way his eyes light up, and you’ve felt the warmth of his care. he shines in the dark, gentle and comforting. 

you have his scarf wrapped around your neck, and he smiles at the sight. you never gave it back - using the excuse that you didn’t have time to, or that you forgot to bring it every time you saw him - but now that he’s in front of you, you just don’t want to. you like having it with you. 

“hi y/n,” he says, voice a little deeper than usual. it is relatively late at night, and the later it gets, the lower taehyung’s voice seems to get, too. you’ve heard his voice gravely in the mornings, dropping octaves whenever he’s tired, and it startles you every time, especially when it’s your name coming out of his mouth. 

“since when do you use my government name?” you scrunch your nose.

he raises an eyebrow. he looks amused. “am i not supposed to?” 

you deflect, because you don’t actually have a good answer to that. it’s just weird that he didn’t call you sun, and you’re not entirely sure how you feel about the way your name sounds on his lips all of a sudden. “what are you doing here?” 

he shrugs. “was just passing by.” 

you forget the whole your-name-in-his-deep-voice thing. “passing by? here? at 11:30? taehyung, you literally only leave your apartment for class, the library, and if jimin threatens you.” 

he makes a noncommittal noise. “i also leave for food.” 

you wave him off. “whatever.” 

“i can’t just be a good friend and come see you?” 

“not in this weather,” you mutter, shoving your hands into your pockets. the deeper into finals seasons you get, the colder the wind picks up. 

“you do it all the time for sky. i’m just picking up some good habits.” 

you snort. “sky’s my best friend.” 

“what am i?” 

your steps pause. you look at him, and he stops with you, head tilted as he stares back at you. you don’t know what game taehyung’s playing at, but it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. taehyung’s always looked kinda harmless - unruly hair, innocent eyes, open expression. even if he doesn’t smile altogether that often, he doesn’t come off as particularly intimidating. although maybe that has more to do with the fact that you’ve known him your entire life and have witnessed taehyung in a tiger onesie before. 

there’s really nothing less intimidating than a teenaged kim taehyung in a onesie that he trips over because it’s slightly too big. 

but you look at him now, and you give yourself a chance to wonder. wonder when things started to change, when he got taller, broader, more handsome. you’ve noticed it before, of course - the way taehyung can reach the things you can’t, how he hovers over you, how he always feels safe and warm whenever you go in for the occasional hug. 

then there’s the moments when sometimes he leans in a little extra close, the times when his smiles get playful in a way that makes your heart stutter. how he tends to drop by when you’re working, or just before or after so he can walk with you, and you’ve never told him to stop, because you like his company. you like having him nearby, the back of his hand brushing yours. 

but it felt weird to admit it. so you didn’t. you don’t. 

it’s not like you don’t know. taehyung thinks he’s secretive, but you’ve caught the small smiles, the lifted corners of his lips, the way his eyes linger on you a little longer. you know, you just don’t want to. knowing is dangerous. getting close like that is dangerous. letting yourself entertain the thought is dangerous. 

it’s not just that he’s sky’s little brother. that in and of itself is playing with fire; the fallout if things don’t work out between you and taehyung is probably the only thing you want even less to think about than just the idea of falling into him in the first place. 

but you don’t do well with the concept. half of you is too used to relying on yourself; the other half of you knows that you’ve spent a lifetime relying on him. his family. you’ve wormed your way in with the kims, pretending to play house with a family that isn’t yours. no matter how the kims welcome you in as one of their own, you know it isn’t real. it’s all illusion. smoke and mirrors. 

taehyung takes care of you quietly, and the comfort is so relieving you feel like you could sink right into it, safe and sound. the weight on your shoulders lightens so much, you could cry from the lack of pressure. then you return to your world, and reality rips you right out of that safety net. suddenly his constant warmth is a threat, and he’s no longer a hearth, he’s a wildfire, uncontrollable and destructive. 

well, no. taehyung isn’t the destructive one. 

you are. 

so you try your best not to fall into him. not to slip, let him carry you. to not rely on him more than you already have, to not do more than what you can reason off as acceptable. 

you look away from him. “you’re taehyung,” you say lamely, after a too-long pause. you redirect instead. “what are you doing here, for real?” 

he keeps his hands in his coat pockets as the two of you start walking again. he shrugs a little. “you said you were closing today.” he glances around. “it’s dark out.” 

“i can walk myself home, you know.” 

he hums in return. 

the two of you lapse into silence. you find yourself quiet around taehyung more and more often these days, failing to fill the space with aimless stories and light jokes. but you’re tired from work and it’s cold and somehow taehyung makes it feel comfortable. like the silence doesn’t imply loneliness. 

but the thoughts that have been knocking around your head for the past few weeks get louder now that your surroundings are at peace. you don’t know what wills you to say it out loud, but you do. “sky didn’t tell me about namjoon.” 

if taehyung’s surprised you’re telling him this, he does a good job not showing it. he’s quiet for a minute. then, “i know.” 

you stare at the ground. you feel like you should explain yourself, as if there’s something you need to defend. “well, she told me eventually. just not at first.” 

taehyung pauses. you stop with him, a little nervous, though you’re not sure what for. he’s not looking at you at first, but then his gaze slides over to you, unreadable. but his eyes soften, and gently, he repeats, “i know.” 

you hold his gaze. you mull over your thoughts, at the idea of letting him in. letting him hear what it is you want to say. 

you don’t usually tell anyone what you’re thinking. honestly, you don’t even usually let yourself get far enough to have the kind of thoughts worth spilling out to someone like this. maybe if you had a therapist they’d unpack that for you, but you don’t exactly have time for therapy in between the jobs and the not-failing-out-of-college thing. 

taehyung waits patiently. like his sister, he’s always listened to you, no matter how outrageous your commentary gets. but while sky tends to laugh at your excessive monologues, taehyung either stays silent or offers up quick, witty remarks, or quiet, supportive commentary. even when he says nothing, he seems to understand you, just from the way he looks at you. 

you wonder. when, in all the years taehyung has been beside you, did he learn to understand you? 

and when, in all the years you’ve been beside him, did you start to want to let him? 

letting yourself mold and blend into taehyung and sky’s world was one thing. but letting taehyung seep into yours, where the colors dull and gray out, and the lights dim and flicker, is something else entirely. you keep him and all your childhood friends on the other side of the fence. where it’s safe. where things are good. 

but it’s hard to climb back to the side with the weeds, the overgrowth, alone. you get splinters every time, and you peer between the pickets wondering when the fence will be taken down. when you’ll be able to sweep away the imaginary lines you’ve drawn for yourself, when you’ll allow yourself to stand on the side where the grass is greener. 

but even if it’s hard to be alone, it’s harder still to let taehyung step into your world. it’s terrifying. you open your mouth to speak but you keep coming up empty, the words dying on your tongue whenever you exhale. how can you let him carry your burdens? how can you let him see what it’s like on this side of the fence, when he’s always lived across the street? 

everything you want to say keeps fizzling out. you can’t do it. you’ve conditioned yourself to keep quiet. 

but taehyung sees the lost look on your face and softens. he sees the panic start to creep in, your defensive instincts rising back up, and he leans down towards you. “should we follow them around?” 

you blink at him once. twice. then splutter, shoving him back by the shoulder. “what?” 

the amused twinkle in his eyes doesn’t slip by you, or your rapidly weakening heart. “yeah,” he shrugs, dark eyes lit with humor. “hide in the bushes, all that. figure out if he’s a good guy.” 

you scoff, helpless grin spreading across your face. the tension melts off your shoulders just like that. “didn’t take you for that kind of brother, kim taehyung.” 

he glances at you, observes the way you’ve relaxed again, stress erased from your features, if temporarily. he makes a sound in the back of his throat, swaying from side to side. “she’s still my sister,” he says airily, and you bump against his side, smiling affectionately up at him. 

“you’re a good kid, taehyung.” 

he frowns at that. after a half-minute of contemplation, he finally mumbles out, “i’m not a kid,” knowing full well that it makes him sound exactly like a kid. you snort. 

“how long have you been holding that in for?” 

he gives you a sour look. you chuckle, deciding to let him off easy. “you’re a good brother, tae,” you correct. he seems satisfied with your amendment, and you bite your cheek to try and dampen your smile. 

when he drops you off outside your building, you lean up to ruffle his hair and thank him for taking you back. he leans down a little to make it easier for you to reach, but his eyes remain on you, and for a second, your breath escapes you. slowly, you lower your hand back down to your side, fingers curling in shyly. you hold his gaze, unable to look away. 

he doesn’t straighten back up even though you’ve pulled away, just letting the silence sit between you. you’re supposed to say something, anything, but taehyung’s mesmerizing, and you forget all of the supposed-to’s in favor of simply staring back at him, time coming to a momentary standstill. 

distantly, you think it’s odd, but you don’t mind it. you don’t mind staying in this moment, where it’s quiet and peaceful and you don’t have to think about much of anything at all, all your worries winding down when taehyung is around. he smiles at you and your brain kinda just shuts off, focusing only on the pretty curve of his lips. 

“call me whenever you’re working late,” he says, bringing you out of your reverie. “i’ll always walk you home, sun.” 

the words fit into your chest like missing pieces of a puzzle. that’s what being around taehyung feels like, like he’s patching all the holes inside you, slowly building back up the things you thought had worn down beyond repair after years of pressure on your back. he fixes up the lights, repaints the walls, redecorates the shelves. 

that’s why he’s your star, you think. even in the dark, he makes it easy to find your way home. 

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

#taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #taehyung x yn #taehyung x y/n #taehyung #series: tsns #series: kths #so this did not in fact turn out to be three parts oops #maybe four to five?? #i have no idea tbh

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XII

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.7K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

23 Melona

The meeting with Carinthia was quick. Kazi transferred the men’s datastick and Carinthia exchanged the Imperial credits. 

A cooler morning kept the warehouse’s temperature tolerable. It had been weeks since Kazi was last called here for network-related dealings, and even longer since the network’s contacts requested her to spy. She found the lack of both communication and work odd. However, there were more important things keeping her busy.

Her interaction with Carinthia was fairly quiet. Carinthia seemed more tense than usual, her words polished yet curt, her Inner Rim accent detectable. Kazi didn’t pay much attention to the exchange or Carinthia’s moodiness. Her mind was elsewhere, stuck like a fly caught in a spiderweb.

This morning, when she started on breakfast, she found a lumina berry already prepared. Long strips, somewhat jagged and imperfect, rested on a plate for Neyti. Chunks, cubed and proportional, cluttered a bowl.

Wolffe was notably absent from his usual spot, working outside, tending to his garden. 

Kazi regarded the lumina berry strips and chunks for far too long. Her mind whirred from confusion while something deep and inscrutable inside her warmed. 

The thought of Wolffe preparing the lumina berry bothered her. She had clearly been too open yesterday at the Marketplace. Too vulnerable. She didn’t want his fucking pity, and she had half a mind to call him out on it—

“I’m surprised you’re not married yet.”

The sheer randomness of the comment caught Kazi off guard, and she could only blink her confusion, eyeing Carinthia. 

Marital conversations she expected from Daria. But the opinion of a stranger, and especially the opinion of someone like Carinthia, both annoyed and unsettled her. Her bafflement must have been obvious because Carinthia shrugged, tucking a crimson curl behind her ear.

“I researched Ceaia when you first joined the network,” Carinthia said. “A woman of your age should have been married by now, and with two kids.” She sniffed. “Your culture emphasizes marital duty, yet here you are. Unmarried and childless, unless you count Neyti, whom I don’t.”

Electing nonchalance to defensiveness, Kazi shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. “I never agreed with that part of my culture.”

“That’s not so surprising.” Carinthia snickered. “Your life has always been so easy. I suspect ignoring a major part of your culture’s expectations was something you could casually brush aside without fear of consequence.”

The condescension in Carinthia’s tone made her clench her jaw. Their introductions to the network differed, and even though their roles complemented one another, their interactions were few. But it was clear, from those few instances, that Carinthia didn’t care for her. Snide remarks, disparaging looks, tense disagreements.

“My life hasn’t been easy,” Kazi said stiffly. “I may not be a slave in one of the Empire’s mines, but not everything has gone my way, either.”

“No?” Carinthia picked at a nail. “You have a job. A home. You have people who love you. You’re safe and happy. Your life is the epitome of easy.”

Kazi had told herself the same thing over the last few months. The last decade. Her life was easy, her struggles were incomparable to those of others, and she had no right to complain. But there was one inaccuracy in Carinthia’s assessment: She wasn’t safe. And she didn’t appreciate someone like Carinthia judging her life.

“I’m not sure what your problem is”—Kazi arched a wry eyebrow—“but your life has been just as easy, if not easier.”

Anger flushed Carinthia’s face.

“You were born into a wealthy family on an Inner Rim planet,” Kazi said. “All you’ve known for the entirety of your life is luxury and wealth. You’ve probably never wanted for a single thing.”

“You know me so well.” Carinthia sneered, blue eyes cold and unfeeling. 

Kazi considered her for a moment and then shook her head. It was obvious Carinthia wanted an argument, but she wasn’t interested in one. Turning on her heel, she strode toward the warehouse’s door—

“I was forced into my marriage.” 

The words were hushed, and Kazi nearly ignored her fellow rebel, her hand poised on the door, but curiosity stalled her movements. Still turned away from Carinthia, she hesitated. Carinthia’s past wasn’t her business, and she had no desire to spend more time than necessary with members of the rebel network. Yet she couldn’t move.

“I was a dutiful wife. Obedient and loyal,” Carinthia murmured. “I was everything my parents expected me to be. What my husband and his mother expected of me. I was the perfect wife.”

Telling herself she would regret it, Kazi lowered her hand from the door and faced the other woman. 

Shadows embraced Carinthia’s lone figure. Mocking and delighted, they sunk her cheeks and nipped at her sharp collarbones. They dulled her eyes into vacuous pits of emptiness. 

“I was the perfect wife, until I lost my child.” An eerie smile sucked what little color remained in Carinthia’s face. “My husband expected a child. He said it was my duty to provide as many children as he desired.”

A hint of nausea curdled her stomach; an unnatural chill pimpled her skin.

“Losing my child…losing her was…” Carinthia shook her head, wiping at her mouth. “The Empire came to power shortly after and I refused to sit quietly while my husband supported Palpatine’s domination. I was ostracized from my family for speaking out, for losing my child, for not providing another so quickly. I ran away, got in contact with the network, and made myself useful.”

It was like looking through a window to an alternate timeline. 

The haggard face before her—the cold resentment and unfeeling disdain—belonged to the woman Kazi could have been if she hadn’t left her mother’s house. If she hadn’t found another opportunity. 

“My daughter would have been two today,” Carinthia said, her voice breaking. She glanced at the dusty windows lining the top of the warehouse, blinking away her emotion until a cool, unaffected mask sat in place. “Did you make it to the kid’s field trip?” 

Kazi regarded Carinthia carefully. “I did.”

A bird’s song eclipsed the silence between them. Kazi briefly considered offering platitudes of sympathy, but she knew Carinthia would dismiss them. 

“Have you ever been loved?”

The question was so casual and innocent that Kazi nearly laughed from its absurdity. It was the sincere curiosity on Carinthia’s face that convinced her to remain serious. To take Carinthia seriously. She answered truthfully, “When I was a kid.”

“I fell in love once,” Carinthia said. “When I was a young girl who knew no better.” 

Carinthia closed her eyes. Flickers of pale sunlight played along the planes of her face, softening the hurt deadening her features.

“I have found that love only leads to pain.” Carinthia laughed. Quiet and cold. “I used to crave that sort of intimacy more than life itself.”

Muscles stiffened down her spine and Kazi stilled. 

Long ago, when she was a little girl, she dreamt of falling in love. 

She dreamt she would live in the lighthouse. Revived and beautifully painted, it would be her castle. For she would be a princess, and one day she would meet a knight, and they would fall in love and she would never be alone. One day, she would never fear the indomitable vastness of loneliness. 

But dreams were fleeting and reality a wheel that crushed frivolous wishes and imaginings. She was a little girl who broke, and there was no knight to rescue her. 

So she clawed herself to safety, and it was isolating and exhausting, and she didn’t care for the progressive advice claiming she was brave and strong for standing on her own. She was tired of being strong, and she was tired of being alone. 

“I think you understand,” Carinthia said, “more than you let on.”

Kazi fisted her hands behind her back. “I’ve never fallen in love.”

“Why not?”

Once, there was a little girl inside of her who yearned for intimacy. Yearned for the vulnerability of trust. Yearned to be seen and known fully. 

But that girl was dead.

Kazi had killed her. 

Killed everything she represented: whimsical innocence of life; fantastical longing for companionship.

Most importantly, she killed the part of her that yearned for love.

Shrugging, Kazi opted for a lie. “I haven’t met someone I trust enough.”

“It’s hard to meet someone you can trust when you remain so closed off.”

Kazi scoffed, needing to lessen the intensity of emotions she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in so long. “Being quiet—”

“I’m not talking about a quiet personality.” Carinthia waved a dismissive hand. “I’m talking about vulnerability. Does anyone in your life actually know you?”

Kazi held Carinthia’s gaze. People knew of her. Old classmates at university, familiar faces at the harbor.

But she knew the truth. She knew there was a depth to the question most people wouldn’t understand; a depth she was all too familiar with. 

“Invulnerability will protect you from potential pain and hurt,” Carinthia said. Her smile was pitying. “It will also isolate you from meaningful companionship.” 

Chuckling uncomfortably, Kazi reached for the door. 

“There will come a day when you find yourself loved,” Carinthia said, approaching her at a non-threatening pace, her hands finding the pockets of her black jacket. “But that person will want to know you. They will want to know the best parts, and the worst parts, and everything in between. And one day, you will have to make a decision to either let them in or push them away.”

A meter separated them. The icy blue of Carinthia’s eyes thawed. 

“What do you think you will decide?” 

The words plagued Kazi the rest of the day, containing a truth she refused to acknowledge or accept.

A truth that had haunted her for years.

28 Melona

Muted oranges fell prey to the darkening blue of the sunset.

Enjoying a cup of lemon juice she found inside the stasis along with a plate of warmed food, Kazi shifted her attention from the sunset to the people. 

Seated among the stalky ferns overrunning the backyard, Neyti was drawing on her sketchpad. Nearby, Nova was reading his datapad—most likely the scientific article detailing the creation of nysillin shots he had shared with Daria yesterday evening at dinner. 

At the edge of the jungle, Wolffe and Cody sparred, sweat dampening their shirts. Their muscles strained beneath the other’s fists. 

Wolffe jabbed and Cody sidestepped. A hand struck for Wolffe’s chest. He deflected it. A successive punch forced Cody to retreat. 

They seemed evenly matched, and while Cody was quicker, Wolffe was dirtier. A deflected strike turned into a well-aimed tap in an area that should have been off-limits. It earned a baleful glare from Cody.

The backdoor swung open, startling Kazi from her viewing, and she stiffened at the sight of her sister. Daria stilled, her lips pursing. They eyed one another, and based on Daria’s disgruntled scowl, Kazi expected their argument to renew. It was one signifier of their differing approaches to handling arguments.

Daria vocalized her discontent and issues, and she didn’t shy from engaging in heated conversations. If a problem existed, she confronted it. Once the argument ended, she moved on. Daria was quick to anger, but also quick to cool, so long as she believed herself and her ideologies to be respected.

Similar to her sister only in their defensive attitudes, Kazi preferred silence and avoidance in the hopes the argument would soon be forgotten. By others. 

Kazi never forgot conversations, and she never forgot the wrongs committed against her. There was an unintentional tallying list in the back of her mind. Categorized and kept locked away, she retrieved her list when an argument coalesced and she had to defend herself with the harbored evidence.

Until that breaking moment, she avoided possible arguments. Years with her mother antagonizing her anger, she learned it was best to mask herself. To pretend she agreed with someone in order to gain their approval. 

Teachers, parents, high society mothers. The masking protected her.  

Only seven days had passed since Kazi enforced the morning/evening potions but Daria looked better. Her cheeks maintained a healthy blush. The circles beneath her eyes were lighter. Even her honeyed hair appeared softer and fuller. Finger spasms and random sweats were notably absent.

Daria appeared the portrait of grace and poise she was known for back in their Reformist city. The youthful beauty and respectable personality mothers of high society males desired of a daughter-in-law.

A year ago, the rumor mill expected Daria to marry into one of the wealthiest Ceaian families. The day she turned twenty-five, per Reformist marriage customs, Daria would have announced her choice of husband, after seven years entertaining marriage proposals. 

Daria turned twenty-five this last Telona. And instead of marrying into a wealthy family and establishing herself as a well-known socialite, Daria would die young. Unmarried and childless.  

Marriage and children: the two dreams Daria had yearned for since they were younglings. Kazi had only ever related to Daria’s marital desires. Younglings were a different story, and one she never considered as a youngling herself. 

Daria had nurtured her dolls, and Kazi had nurtured her stuffed animals.

Their dreams were different, but back then, they didn’t care. They were excited for the other. Hopeful. And even after all this time, the only thing Kazi wanted was for Daria to be okay. To live.

Her sister’s withering glare made her heart sink. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. “Thank you for dinner—”

Daria strode away, disappearing into the living area. 

Loosing a breath, Kazi faced the windows once more, folding her arms over chest. 

The sky was bruising. Neyti continued to work on her sketch, though she had moved to the table with Nova. Wolffe received a jab in his ribs. Cody’s smirk taunted him and the man faked two punches before kicking Cody in the thigh. From Cody’s outraged expression, kicking wasn’t allowed. Wolffe flashed his own smirk in response.

Near-silent footsteps entered the sunroom and joined Kazi at the windows. 

“When are you going to give Neyti the bird carving?” Kazi asked conversationally.

A strong nutty scent wafted through the air. From the corner of her eye, Fox slowly sipped his caf. Black caf lacking creamer or anything appealing. The chrono on the wall declared it was 20:30. 

“I haven’t decided if I will.” Kazi stared at Fox, waiting for an explanation. He released a heavy sigh. “She…doesn’t like me.”

The way he watched Neyti with Nova belied both the flatness and forced disinterest of his tone. Fox might have perfected a casual demeanor that hid most of his personal motivations and emotions, but Kazi knew he cared. She knew it, because she did too.

“If you give her a chance to get to know you—”

“Have you given her a chance?” He flashed her a taunting grin. “That kid wants to know—”

“It’s really none of your business.” Kazi tugged on the end of a braid, keeping her gaze on the two men sparring and not the curious little girl.

Fox chuckled lowly. “Wolffe complains about you using that phrase. Frequently.”

“Do you need something?” she demanded.

Amusement danced in his eyes and then sobered into contemplation. His expression was solemn as he said, “Sibling dynamics are never easy.”

Kazi dug her fingernails into her biceps to stifle a reaction, even as embarrassment warmed her face. The reason she worked so hard to keep her life private—the reason she locked away her emotions and hid herself—was to protect from the judgment and criticism of others. She knew she was imperfect. But it was humiliating when others realized her own flaws. 

“The oldest sibling believes himself responsible for the youngest,” Fox said. “He wants to protect his sibling. He wants to see his sibling succeed. And then you have the youngest. He wants to make his older sibling proud. He sees his effort and sacrifice. And he’s grateful.”

Outside, Cody landed a sharp jab to Wolffe’s ribs. Wolffe staggered back a step. He spat into the ferns and raised his fists, beckoning Cody forward.

“The youngest sibling wants the older sibling to respect him.” Fox set aside his mug, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “The youngest views himself as a burden. Or a responsibility.”

Kazi slid her eyes in his direction. “I thought you were a marshal commander. Wouldn’t that make you the oldest?”

“I’m not the oldest of my mates.” His chin dipped toward Wolffe and Cody. “I know my maturity makes me seem older.”

She snorted, and his lips curved into a half-smile. 

“It was Wolffe who dragged me off Coruscant,” Fox said, after a hesitant moment. “He forced me to leave. I didn’t want to.”

The confession surprised her. “You wanted to stay on Coruscant?”

“Wolffe showed up. Tried to order me around.” Fox breathed a rueful chuckle. “By that time, I’d been with the Empire for six months. I hadn’t deserted. And seeing Wolffe wasn’t easy. I’d thought he was dead. I’d hoped he was dead.”

Quick mental math explained the reason Fox refused to look in her direction. He hadn’t deserted until earlier this year. Around the time of the Purge, and only two months before the men arrived on Eluca.  

“I didn’t want Wolffe to risk his life for me,” Fox said. “And I didn’t appreciate him ordering me around. Telling me I needed to leave. I told him to fuck off. He stunned me and dragged me out. Got me off Coruscant.” Fox rolled his neck. “I woke up thinking he got me out because I was his responsibility. Nothing more. I found him in the cockpit and we got into a fight. Bruised each other up a bit. Had a nice long chat after.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Kazi reached for the white curtain near her, pretending to fix its tie. “But your situation was different. Daria is sick and unable to make her own decisions.”

Fox’s silence was intentional, and she chose to ignore it. 

“Thank you, by the way,” she said. He lifted a brow in question. “For the idea to repaint the front door and banister.”

Fox shrugged. “We’re here for the time being. Might as well make the house livable.”

Slightly offended by his comment, she wrinkled her nose. “The house was perfectly livable before you arrived.”

He threw her an unimpressed look. She rolled her eyes, reconsidering his statement. 

“You make it seem like you won’t be here for long,” she hedged.

“This is temporary.”

“But Wolffe is building a garden.” She waved a hand at the wired structure. “That’s fairly permanent.”

It sounded ridiculous, even to her ears, and she grimaced. But the thought of the men leaving, perhaps soon, unnerved her for some reason. Fox regarded her with a shrewdness that discomfited her further. A small line creased between his brows. 

“Wolffe and Cody are dedicated to the missions,” Fox said slowly. “I want to settle down. But for now, their focus is elsewhere.”

Surprised, she frowned. “You want to settle down?”

The thought of the men building their own home, possibly finding partners and having children, seemed a juxtaposition to the soldiers undermining the Empire. A quiet, domestic life contrasted the stressful, mission-oriented lifestyle they currently lived.

“I’m tired.” The honesty in his voice was detached, resigned. “We’re all tired.” 

Their sparring complete, Wolffe and Cody broke apart, joining Neyti and Nova at the table.

“They’re better at distracting themselves from it than I am.” Fox watched his brothers, his expression somber. “We all want the life we were told we couldn’t have. But they’re too afraid to go after it. So they’ll exhaust themselves with the missions ‘til they get injured enough they’re forced to stop. Or they’re killed.”

Malaise shivered down her spine and Kazi realized she was gripping the curtain so tightly her fingers were numbing. She loosened her grip, rubbing her hands together. “And you’ll follow them, even when you want to stop?”

“Always.” 

Kazi studied Fox, noting the circles beneath his eyes and the wrinkles marring his forehead. She wanted to tell him he deserved the quiet, simple life he desired. That they all deserved it. But it was obvious he already knew he deserved it, and her repeating it was unnecessary. Her thoughts must have translated to her features because Fox shrugged blasely, excusing himself and taking his cup of caf outside. 

Waiting a few seconds to give Fox space, Kazi approached the outdoor table. Neyti waved at her, her grin eager, and she proudly showed Kazi her new sketch—a portrait. 

For someone so young, the intricate details in Daria’s face—the freckles along her cheeks and the tiny birthmark on her jaw—were eerily realistic. Neyti even captured Daria’s gentle countenance and the kind youth in her smile. 

The portrait was a surreal reminder of the impending future: a contrast of Daria’s liveliness to her hastily-approaching terminality. Soon Kazi would never again see her sister’s smile. The healthy blush to her cheeks. The humored crinkles around her mouth. The adventurous twinkle in her eyes. 

Such reminders crawled along Kazi’s back, like a fishing hook trying to snag her muscles and drag her far, far away. She forced herself to focus on Neyti. To smile and compliment the artwork. To follow Neyti as the little girl set aside her sketchpad, approached the neighboring jungle, and determinedly trekked through the luscious flora. 

Eventually they found themselves wandering the perimeter of the lake. Neyti led the way. Every few meters she stopped to sniff a new set of flowers, and Kazi plucked a handful, twisting the stems into a small flower crown. 

Soon, Wolffe joined them, his silent presence comforting and welcomed, and when Kazi placed the colorful crown atop Neyti’s head, he complimented the style, earning himself a blushing grin from the little girl. And a small, appreciative smile from the crown’s creator.

Beneath the crepuscular sky, the jungle’s nocturnal fauna awoke. Bioluminescent flora silvered the soiled trail and mossed the trees. The lake quietly lapped at the shore. Stars winked their knowing mischief, mirrored across the lake’s stilled surface. Glowing pale green plants sprouted. 

As the sky darkened further, flickers of yellow scintillated. Lightning bugs. 

Neyti stood at the edge of the lake and regarded the bugs with childlike awe. Even Kazi considered them with intrigue. They landed on her arms, zapped her with their stingers, and then moseyed along their way. 

A hum of bugs and trills of nightly birds filled the clearing. Tension Kazi had held for months—for years—soothed into quiet currents she could easily ignore. It had been a while since she last appreciated the natural beauty of the world around her. 

“I saw you talking with Fox.” Wolffe stood beside her, their elbows grazing every so often, his voice quiet so that Neyti couldn’t overhear. “You get along well.”

An unspoken question, maybe curiosity, underscored his tone and Kazi searched his face. For once, he wasn’t watching her. Rather, he overlooked the lake, eyes skimming between patches of sparking yellow.

“We’ve talked a few times,” she said. Hesitating, she knocked her elbow against his—sportive in its intent. “He cares for you. A lot.”

“I know,” he said roughly.

Oblivious to their conversation, Neyti moved from the lake’s edge toward the fallen tree. She sat on its trunk and outstretched a hand. A few seconds passed before a lightning bug landed in her palm. Her soft inhale of glee reached them and Kazi felt herself smile. 

Wolffe sighed. “Fox has endured a lot.”

“You all have.”

“Cody and I had generals to rely on. When things turned for the worst.” He levelled the full weight of his gaze on her. “Fox didn’t have someone to share responsibility with. He was on his own for most of the war. And after…”

The nearby trees’ bioluminescence cast Wolffe in a silvery-blue light. It reflected in his cybernetic and swirled among the rich depths of his dark brown eye. His eyes wandered across her face, and each place they rested, her skin warmed.  

“Fox doesn’t open up much. And he keeps things to himself to lessen the pressure on Cody and me.” His probing look was exasperated and pointed. “He thinks he’s doing us a favor. But he’s not.” 

Kazi lifted her face toward the stars and one of Eluca’s rising moons. 

Sometimes Wolffe read her too well. 

“Are you insinuating something?” she said.

“You know I am.” His elbow bumped hers gently. 

“You said it yourself,” she murmured. “He doesn’t want to burden you and Cody.”

“Tell me, Ennari”—Wolffe leaned closer—“is that why you do everything on your own?” 

“We’re not talking about me.”

“Answer the question.”

Still observing the stelliferous horizon, Kazi swallowed, thinking about the tattoo inked into her spine. “Who better to rely on than myself?”

There was a pause and then, his voice quiet, Wolffe said, “I’m here.”

Starlight, like dewdrops, glistened; a small smile tugged on her mouth. “Is this an invitation to be friends?”

Wolffe chuckled. “Thought we already were.”

Kazi laughed, the carefree sound earning her a toothy grin from Neyti. The little girl waved in their direction and then chased after another lightning bug.  

“You have an odd view of friendship,” Kazi remarked. From the corner of her eye, Wolffe shrugged, his head angled back as he studied the silver-dotted canvas. She surveyed the unfamiliar stars too, seeking constellations she knew she wouldn’t find. Jokingly, she said, “You could do better.”

“I prefer you.”

Above the treetops, alone and bright, the first moon had fully risen when Kazi returned her gaze to Wolffe. He was already staring at her.

“My father used to tell me that life was about finding the little things. Finding them and enjoying them.” They were close enough she could feel the heat from his body. Or maybe it was simply her own skin blushing beneath his unwavering stare. “You went from war to desertion to these missions, and I want to know… Do you feel alive?”

Wolffe held her gaze for multiple heartbeats and then looked away. Looked toward the lake’s mirrored surface. 

The question was cryptic and obscure. A question borne from the safety of night’s vulnerability and spurred by the man whose hollow eyes were far too familiar.

“I’m not sure. I’m mostly surviving out of instinct. Keeping my brothers alive, rescuing other men. I haven’t had an opportunity since the war to figure it out.” He angled his face towards her. “You’re the same way.”

Kazi wanted to argue. To disagree and flippantly brush aside his statement as lacking true depth and understanding of her persona. 

She didn’t.

Because he was correct. She attended finishing school out of duty, and strived to succeed out of a desire to earn her mother’s recognition. To be perfect. The fear of marriage—the fear of never being enough for a happy marriage—enforced her decision to run away from home and attend University. It dominated her career choice.  

Daria’s disease, the Purge, Neyti. 

Hiding from the Empire, trying to start a new life, working for the rebel network.

It was different from Wolffe, their experiences incomparable: his survival driven by the raw, human instinct to stay alive; her survival driven by the basic human desire to keep existing.  

Long ago, though, she had known what it was like to live. It was a fleeting warmth she could still feel hints of, and yet, when she reached for it, it evaded her. Like a lightning bug uncapturable. 

However, in a clearing lit by bioluminescent matter and a single moon, standing close to a man whose gaze didn’t leave hers, Kazi didn’t feel so alone. 

“Being alive isn’t a crime,” she said into the silence, a subtle question edging her tone. Wolffe searched her countenance, just as she did his, as if they mutually needed the reassurance of the other. 

“It’s not,” he murmured. 

“Sometimes it feels like it is.”

Wolffe brushed a stray hair from her forehead. “I know.”

Bugs glowed. A frog croaked. More stars blinked.

The world existed, lost to its own machinations, and still their gazes lingered.

Masterlist | Chapter 11 | Chapter 13

A/N: It’s intentional that both Kazi and Wolffe are trying to find meaning to their lives. This fic isn’t about them “saving” the other. They’re both broken people who are hurting, but they’re both also trying—for their families, for each other, for themselves. 

Also, I call them fireflies. But for the purpose of this story, it made more sense calling them lightning bugs. 

Next chapter release – March 28th  

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe fanfiction #commander wolffe fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fan fiction #commander wolffe x ofc

[wellthebardsdead]

Evalien: *from our world, got isekaid into skyrim and turned into a dwemer, now walking up to the Riften gates hoping it’d be just like the games so she can get one up over the guild*

Guard: Halt, before I let you in, you have to pay the visitors tax.

Evalien: You’re meant to only be doing this to merchants, not civilians never mind friends of the guild. Do I really need to tell Brynjolf how shit you are at doing a shakedown?

Guard: *knees almost buckling* alright alright keep your voice down just let me unlock the gate-

*a few minutes later*

Evalien: *walking through the Main Street, eyes peeled for a nord as built as her companion*

Kaidan: how on earth did you pin that guys scheme that easily?

Evalien: Because there’s no such thing as a visitors tax-

Maul: Hey. You!

Evalien: *stops and turns her attention to the heavily armoured nord* hm? Wait- *holds her hand up and moves it around in front of his face like she’s gathering his proportions* You’re Dirge’s brother yeah?

Maul: *suddenly caught very off guard* I? Yeah. You know him then?

Evalien: Sort of only really seen him from a distance. I’m a friend of the guild. Is Brynjolf in the marketplace today? Need some dirt off him.

Maul: then we’re speaking the same language. *shifts to a more relaxed position* Yeah, he’s in the main market district, scouting new talent.

Evalien: things must really be bad if he’s the one in charge of recruiting now… Delvin still in town?

Maul: yeah, down in the flagon usually.

Evalien: good got some stuff he might be interested in. Mercer still head of the guild?

Maul: yeah, took over-

Evalien: after Gallus… yeah…

Maul: *fully convinced she’s an old acquaintance of the guild now* yeah… Any other info you wanna know?…

Evalien: Yeah what’s the brotherhood situation in skyrim? If it’s as bad as what I think-

Maul: Well the only information I know is there was a boy from the orphanage who ran away-

Evalien: and is performing the black sacrament. All of skyrim knows about that and Astrid still hasn’t caught onto it… *sighs* things really have gone to shit.

*A few more minutes later*

Evalien: *walks into the Bee and Barb before looking back at Kaidan* Have a rest Kai I’ll be a while.

Kaidan: *still trying to wrap his head around how she knows all of this stuff* alright.

Evalien: *walks over to Sapphire* I’m here about the stable boys debt.

Sapphire: ugh, I know Shadr would try to get out of it.

Evalien: you and I both know this is a set up. You can’t bleed gold out of a stone when the vein was dry to begin with. Why else would he have come to you for the money?

Sapphire: alright alright, I understand. Tell Shadr he doesn’t owe me anything.

Evalien: Good. *turns and walks off over to the bar*

Keerava: Oh hello have a seat I just cleaned the tankards.

Evalien: thank you. *looks over her shoulder then back at her before sighing* I’m very sorry but, I have a message from Brynjolf.

Keerava: *opens her mouth ready to berate her*

Evalien: calm down, I’m not going to take your coin. *sighs* it’s- complicated our relationship. But he was one step short of sending… some more unsavoury people after your family. So I convinced him to let me come talk to you instead.

Keerava: m-my family- no what-what do you want then?

Evalien: I’m not in the business of hurting people- I’m only in riften to try to convince him to abandon this life and come home with me but… I heard you and your fella were looking to sell the inn?… if I can find some people around town for you to train up to run the place for me I’ll happily pay whatever you ask.

Keerava: I?… you… *looks over her shoulder to the other argonian Talen! come here!

Talen-Jei: *walks over* yes love?

Keerava: *whispers to him* this lady wants to buy the inn.

Talen-Jei: I?… are you serious?

Evalien: *nods* yes. I’m very well off. Whatever you ask I’ll pay, within reason of course.

Talen-Jei: I… sure thing.

*A few more hours, a few honeyed words to the prawn owner and threatening to throw a statue in a lake later*

Evalien: *shaking Svana Far-Shields hand* just head over to the inn and tell the argonians Eva sent you. They’ll get you trained up and oh- *hands her a bag of coin* your first pay in advance.

Svana Far-Shield: Thank you so much!! You have no idea how glad I am to be out from under my aunts thumb! *runs off to the inn with her belongings in hand*

Evalien: *smiles and walks over to the market immediately spotting Brynjolfs red hair* there you are… *sneaks up behind him and leans on the stone wall* Bryyyynjolf~

Brynjolf: *jumps ever so slightly and turns around* hm? Well then who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?

Evalien: a friend. Listen, I’m looking for this old guy hiding out in the ratway, goes by the name of Esbern? Heard he’s paying you quite a bit of gold to keep him hidden.

Brynjolf: oh I see, expecting information for nothing then. Tell you what, you help me out with my little operation here and I’ll tell you what you want to know.

Evalien: and let me guess, you want me to plant a stolen ring on that poor dunmer over there whose just looking for his family?

Brynjolf: *eyes visibly widening* How do you know?

Evalien: Your guys are a loooot louder than they give themselves credit for. But really? Is this how far the guild has fallen? I promise I can make him of far more use to the guild than he would be in a prison cell.

Brynjolf: really lass?…

Evalien: Mhm~ *walks off past him and over to the dunmer merchant* hi there! You’re Brand-Shei correct?

Brand-Shei: I am indeed, I bet you were expecting an argonian?

Evalien: it is a very argonian name but I heard you were a dunmer looking for information on your family? House telvanni?

Brand-Shei: I? Well yes. I suppose you met one of the folks I hired to investigate my past.

Evalien: Mhm. *reaches into her bag and pulls out a journal handing it to him* I suppose I should refer to you as Brandyl though with this information.

Brand-Shei: *takes it and flips through the pages with shaky hands and tears growing in his eyes* Lymdrenn Telvanni- I… my father…

Evalien: A casualty of the argonian uprising I’m afraid… but, the journal does have one thing wrong. House telvanni still stands.

Brand-Shei: *looks at her in surprise* wh-what? Th-they do!?

Evalien: yes. I have a few contacts in the higher rankings of the house. Now that I’ve confirmed you’re still alive, I’ll write to them to confirm your place amongst their ranks.

Brand-Shei: I- I have family?… *looks at the journal and squeezes it tight* Azuras mercy I have family. H-how can I ever repay you?

Evalien: well, I just acquired ownership of the inn. If you’re interested I can pay you 200 gold a week to work there, so long as you’re okay serving the more unsavoury of riftens citizens… I don’t exactly want the thieves guild to burn the place down and all you know?

Brand-Shei: yes, yes absolutely I’ll pack up and head over there right away I- *hugs the journal tight* thank you! Thank you again!

Evalien: *smiles up at him* don’t mention it. I’ll write to my contacts this evening. *waves at him before walking back to Brynjolf* meet me in the flagon.

Brynjolf: what did you say to him?

Evalien: you’ll see. But he’s under my protection now. You mess with him, and I’ll end the guild myself.

Brynjolf: …

Evalien: see you in the tavern. *walks off*

*a few more hours and a bunch of murdering later*

Kaidan: so esbern is down here then?

Evalien: Yep, just stay behind me. *walks up to Dirge* Maul told me to tell you to stop drinking on an empty stomach. *pats him on the face and walks past*

Dirge: *his single braincell trying to comprehend what just happened* Ah?

Kaidan: Don’t think too hard mate your head will explode. *pats him on the shoulder following after her*

Vekel: Give it up Brynjolf, those days are over.

Brynjolf: I’m telling you, this one’s different.

Vekel: face it my friend, you, mercer, vex, delvin, you’re part of a dying breed.

Evalien: Yoo hoo- boy this place is in worse condition than I thought.

Brynjolf: Dying breed aye? *looks back at Eva* what do you call that then?

Evalien: Think fast- *tosses a bag of coin* The prawn, *tosses another* The whore *tosses one more* and the Argonians.

Brynjolf: *catches all three and stands there in bewildered shock* how did you-

Evalien: I told you. Your lot are a lot louder than you give yourselves credit for. Wasn’t hard to pick up who owed you money. Speaking of which- *pulls out a copy of the deed to the bee and barb* I think the guild and maven will greatly benefit from my ownership of the Bee & Barb. *hands it to him* So long as you don’t bother my employees, we won’t have an issue. Oh and, I’m a woman who enjoys her deals not falling through. So if any of you target the argonians for the coin I gave them. You’ll wish you’d pissed off the black briars instead of me. Okay?

Brynjolf: *nods visibly shaken by her presence now* I-aye yes. We’ll leave them be. I’ll hand this deed over to maven as well.

Evalien: good. Now I believe, you, owe me something. *steps a little closer, her automated dragonpriest mask close to his face*

Brynjolf: I? Oh, yes *clears his throat, visibly blushing* Through that door, at the furthest end of the tunnels you’ll find him. Heavily armoured door. You can’t kiss-MISS! Miss it- *steps back*

Evalien: *giggles* thank you. *turns to walk in that direction* oh and… Did. Etienne make it back safe?

Brynjolf: you were the one who set him free?

Evalien: yes.

Brynjolf: Heh… aye, he did, he’s resting in the cistern now…

Evalien: Good, I’m glad, he was in a rough way when I found him…

Brynjolf: When you come back, would you mind sticking around? I think you’d do well in our kit.

Evalien: tell you what, if any thalmor come crawling through here, kill them for me and I’ll happily join your ranks.

Brynjolf: can do… can I ask one more thing lass?

Evalien: yes?

Brynjolf: …Who are you?

Evalien: I’m the Dragonborn.

*30 minutes later*

Evalien: *dragging Esbern out of the ratway* Glad you guys finally decided to turn up!!

Lucien: We took the wrong tunnel and got lost!!

Taliesin: WE DIDNT GET LOST YOU FAINTED WHEN A RAT RAN UP YOUR LEG!!

Caryalind: To be fair on his part- *cuts a thalmor agents throat* It was a very big rat!

Serana: *rips another thalmor agents throat out* God they taste terrible!

Kaidan: *cuts another’s head off* What happened to that weasels promise of killing these bastards if he saw them?!

Evalien: I’m pretty certain these ones were already in here!

Taliesin: IM GOING TO KILL DELPHINE FOR SENDING US HERE!

Evalien: You’ll have to wait I need to save a blue cat before we get out of this city!!!

#long post #taliesin skyrim #Caryalind skyrim #Brynjolf skyrim #Kaidan skyrim #Lucien skyrim #inigo skyrim #serana skyrim #Evalien dragonborn #falmer dragonborn

[saradrewitt]

SARAH JACKALOPE I DESPERATELY NEED YOUR HELP WITH LEARNING HOW TO DRAW A TERZO EMERITUS PLEASE GET BACK TO ME

Hi! I’m so sorry this took a bit to answer!

FULL DISCLOSURE I am literally the worst person to ask because the way I do it always changes but I appreciate your trust in my inconstancy! I also have a hard time drawing him or the other papas for that matter without a reference. I can try to help the best way I can. here we go, I really hope this helps!

So the number don represent the order but just what I'll explain. First always consider the shape of the face I know this is just the sketch but we always start somewhere. 

(1) Take a look at the basic jaw structure my style always make it longer than it should be but in this case I'm taking in the fact that while I made this tutorial I was looking at a photo reference. (2) Then the ears. (3) The basic middle line mark. (4) Two lines are of course for the eyes and you must realize that our eye level matches the tip of the ears show in the picture for remember that. (5) What I personally do when I draw noses it just help with a realistic measurement of the brows and the nose size. if we’re looking at this through a stylized realism way, remember that the distance between the eyes is matched by the size of the nose. this is not the case for some people but look at refs of people’s noses and see that the size of the eyes is the same size of the nose.(6) The first initial circle is the base, but remember that that won’t be the size of a head. so expand it a little bit so there is extra room to get that hairline and detail when we get to that part (I ended up not paying attention and ngl Terzo ended up with a big ass head but shhhhh I warned you)....

I went ahead and did some detail work but this is what we’ll be seeing when I draw them. from pictures you can see the age lines and it’s really just a matter if you want the detail or not, done people can do that with little detail and make it look good but my style is in constant crises all the time so this is how I do it. you can also why I have the base sketch on top of my “lineart”.

So Terzo’s hair specifically is weird in my opinion. I normally have a part I go off from when I draw hair but his just has to be weird. Either way, when I draw his I go down from the middle and just make it both have that volume and fluff he normally has. (Agin in the end result I polished it up so his part is that square like formation seen in pictures).

Okay now the fun part, the papal makeup! The deep pink lines are the base sketch I usually draw up so when I color and shade it can be adjusted if needed. It also helps me know that proportions are somewhat realistic but with a small hint of my style as well. Idk I'm still in a style crisis as we speak and it’s gotten a lot worse since I've joined this fandom. 

When I think everything looks good I work with the black and color it. I normally like using our black when I work with lineart to give it that ink look. I called this blunt lineart (and shading cuz like I said my style is very inconsistent). Now if you’re working digitally I do this type of coloring on a layer on top of this sketch so when I low the opacity I can see if my placement is correct (again just of needed). if I think I got most of it correct that’s where I go I with my next step. 

Wow, it’s looking like Terzo now, look at our sweet boy with the rbf, Blessimo!

So in these next few steps I just add the white and added purple wrinkle likes that were cover by the blunt lineart. You can make those line grey or white depending on your style but I like adding his colors when I draw him digitally so that’s an option. Once I have everything done I just against as needed then move on.  

Lastly I finish up the lineart, work on some shadow work and add color, for sketched I don’t really do that but in this case I placed a color pallet I usually work with (it’s still gonna be inconsistent as I go) but this is usually what I do when I draw him. honestly to god my methods and process changes but I at least hope this was a helpful guide.

#ghost band #ghost #ghost ghouls #papa terzo #papa iii #papa emeritus iii #answered asks #sara jackalope’s art #sara drewitt’s art

[random-xpressions]

There's a reason why a woman must first go for a dinner date before she commits herself to a man. His table manners will be directly proportional to his mannerisms on the bed. Pay attention - when he tears, when he bites, when he chews, when he licks, when he savours every morsel of food closing his eyes, when he inhales the aroma of the served food, of how passionately he devours what's kept before him. All these being one side of the story, the other being most important is how he would be more focused on your tastes and preferences than his own, serving you very often, filling your plate every time it gets even a little empty, making sure that you're stuffed to your brim until you could take it no more. A gentleman on table is always going to be a well devouring wolf on the bed - savouring every inch of you to your highest satisfaction. Did I miss a point - more than the food it will be exchange of words & glances, deep & engaging conversations, the little pranks & jokes where sense of humour is brought to play, you wouldn't even realize that your meal has reached its end but not the subjects under discussion. Never miss the dinner date - its a prologue to something much greater waiting ahead...

Random Xpressions

#The Forty Rules of Foreplay #5/40

[kellyvela]

GRRM about The Winds of Winter and other ASOIAF stuff

GOO: Can you tell us what you're working on with Winds of Winter? Like who you're writing in Winds of Winter right now?

GRRM: Well, I, I'm still struggling with this Tyrion chapter that I mentioned, so that's the one I'm going on right there.  You know, I don't write the chapters in the order that you read them. If I get in a groove on a particular character, I may write two, three chapters about that character and then go back and write something else, so, I will say that there's a lot of Tyrion in this book and I think there's a big headline for you, which everywhere we rip out of proportion here, but I think I'm close to finishing the Tyrion arc in Winds of Winter. I think this chapter, maybe one further chapter, and I won't be done with the Book, but I'll be done with Tyrion's role in this particular Book.  And then I'll have to focus on another character.  Some of who are also close, some of whom are not at all close hehehe, so, and then hopefully it all fits together.  And I don't know, I do a lot of rewriting on these, a lot of rewriting and a lot of moving the chapters around and the right order, you know, there's a lot of factors that go into, which chapter should follow which chapter, the timeframe, time passage, but also considerations of suspense or spoilers.  Oh God, I can't do that.  That spoils something I haven't done in his chapter, I have to go before that, yeah, so, I'm a gardener, not an architect.  The plants go wild sometimes

***

GOO: Can you talk about, so when you're writing Ice and Fire, you're writing character by character, and like you just said, you spend a lot of time with a particular character, then you move on.  When you're writing fire and blood or something else, that process is obviously different and so, can you talk about that.

GRRM: Fire and Blood is much more chronologically. Yeah. This is, you know, this is the year 105.  What happened in 105?  What happened in 106?  You know, and I do sometimes skip, okay, you know, I can't take it year by year, it would be 47 books, but there are some particularly crucial years where a lot of things happened, as you've seen from reading the book.  I mean, something like The Year of the Three Queens, you know, a lot happened in that year, but then I can say, uh, alright, and you know, the next important thing didn't happen till four years later, et cetera.  But it's much more chronologically oriented. I do sometimes have to, you know, in my, putting on my Archmaester Gyldayn hat, I have to change gears a little, like talking about Dorne, which doesn't get a lot of...  Gyldayn is not paying a lot of attention to Dorne, but every once in a while, Dorne shoves its way in and Gyldayn in a somewhat curmudgeonly says, there's not the purpose of this book to consider the history of the Dornish, however in this particular point in time, we have to pay attention because, you know, a new Princess came to the Sunspear, and she would've a powerful impact on what happened in the realm.  So, you know, then I kind of go back and forward, you know, trying to write it as Gyldayn would write it.

***

GOO: Right. We've talked about before, I guess we've talked about it over the past like, during the course of the whole podcast, how neat it must be to be in a situation like you're in, to have a book series that you're currently working on, be shown on the screen.  I mean, when we talk about other authors that we've enjoyed that have had their stuff adapted for everyone to see it's often if, like, for example, JK Rowling was getting chased with the movies that were coming out and she wrote the books ahead of the movies and it stayed on that same pace.  But with you, you've been able to see stuff that isn't canon, or maybe canon, we, we can verify if you want, but you've been able to watch that happen while you're still working on it. And to me, I think that that's a really interesting circumstance being, for you.  Do you get any kind of benefit from that or is it a headache or what is that for you?

GRRM: Well, as with many other things, it's complicated. It is, I think, a fairly unique situation.  It's certainly not what I anticipated, you know, when the series got going, I mean, obviously we were a few years in development and pre-production and all that.  And we made the pilot and HBO didn't necessarily like it.  We had to remake parts of the pilot, et cetera.  But most of that, I had four books published at that point, during the early development phase.  And I was working on the, the fifth book A Dance with Dragons, which was late, but the show came on and Dance with Dragons came out, both in 2011. And at that point I thought I only have two more books to do. And the show has five books to adapt, some of them very long, and I did not think they would ever catch up to me, but obviously they did, and that took some getting used to, when they caught up with me, and I think it was fairly unique in the history of television or film.  I haven't done any research on this.  You guys are Harry Potter fans, right? Now, was Rowling finished the entire series before they did the first movie?

GOO: No, but the movies never outpaced the series.  So she finished book seven before the seventh movie came out.  So she was always a couple steps ahead, but…

GRRM: That was a unique situation. And it's not necessarily one that I would recommend. Obviously I would've liked to have finished and, and I thought I could finish, at least Winds of Winter and maybe the entire series, by like 2015 or so.  And, you know, and that was four years ahead.  And it seemed to have all the time in the world, but you know, we could do an entire show here, another two hours about exactly everything that happened in 2011 and 2012 and 2013, you know, and there were a number of factors in there, but still, it is what it is.  And I'm finishing, I, I don't want to be influenced by the show really. I mean, some of the stuff they did in the show, as I've said in many previous interviews are, are things that I told Dave and Dan that I would be building towards, but that was in a conversation like this when they visited Santa Fe for three days, and we hit on a few major things, but there were a lot of other things, and as I've said in my interviews, I'm a gardener, some of this stuff, you know, I don't know, it comes to me when I'm writing it and sometimes it doesn't come to me, you know, I'm touching this and this blog post will be out in a few days, but where does this stuff come from?  You know, is it a right brain/left brain thing?  And do I have a Muse?  Is it the Id, or the super ego, who the hell knows?  I know I'm sitting there, I'm writing and I get an idea and you know, something inspired it.  Sometimes I know what inspired it, like visiting the Hadrian's Wall in 1981, my first visit to the UK, I stood on that wall and it had an profound effect on me that came back to me 10 years later when I started writing it.  And I loved the idea of this wall, of course, and I turned it up, but other times, I don't know where the ideas come from. And sometimes they take me in the wrong direction. I mean, I have a whole chapter that I wrote, you know, back in the...for Dance with Dragons, of Tyrion in the Sorrows and the Shrouded Lord, and it was a good chapter, I liked that chapter, but it took the story in the wrong direction and interest, a whole new element, it took us away from, you know, and I kept trying to work it in, I, okay, I'll put it in.  No, I can't, it doesn't work in.  I'll break it up into two, no.  I'll do it as a dream chapter, no, that doesn't work either.  I'll break it up into six dreams, Tyrion will be haunted by a recurring dream, and I'll put a little bit in each chapter, oh, that doesn't work either.  You know, and I finally had to take it out.  But things occur, sometimes frustrating for us gardeners, we don't quite know what's growing.  The architect who has outlined the whole book in detail ahead of time, and is just touching all the bases has an advantage there, and you know, sometimes I get to a chapter and I need something, I need what's gonna happen here, and fucking muse is silent, and I have to put it aside and go to a different chapter, but then maybe six months later, suddenly there it is, it came, but what if it doesn't come?  I mean, I live in fear of that, like many people did.  I had an idea, this will drive a few people crazy listening to the stuff, these big things, about a month ago, just out of nowhere, the perfect ending for a particular character came to me, it would be in A Dream of Spring, not Winds of Winter, but yeah, yeah.  And wait, why are you giving me ideas for Dream of Spring? I'm not there yet, shut the fuck up, Muse, but it's there and I'm gonna remember it, and when I get there, I think it's gonna be strong, it's gonna be powerful, it's what I need to do, it's appropriate. So this writing thing is an interesting, kind of a game.

GOO: Do you write that down? Like that inspiration for Dream of Spring? Is, is there like a....

GRRM: No, maybe I should.  I do have pages of notes and things like that, I have, but mostly it's in my head, so yeah.

GOO: Well, cause you have so many characters, I mean, earlier you were talking about, you know, the Targaryen Kings, you wrote them down and then they kind of eventually came to life.  And so you've got so many characters and storylines in A Song of Ice and Fire, and then across, as we're talking about this world that you're building, so, how do you keep those things straight? And then, you know, don't forget that Dream of Spring idea, you know, like how do you kind of organize all of that?

GRRM: Yeah. I probably don't do a very good job of organizing it.  I mean, I talked earlier about Armageddon Rag and my other novels, my early novels, basically each of those took about a year to write and I never had much notes because I could just remember it all. I mean, I'm writing a story and here are the characters and yeah, it did take me a year to write, but I'm pretty much working on nothing else, but that thing for a year and I just remembered them, and you know, when I first sold the trilogy, it was supposed to be a trilogy in the beginning, you know, even then Winds of Winter was part of it, it was gonna be A Game of Thrones, A Dance with Dragons and Winds of Winter, and my first contract with my publishers back in 1994 was, I would deliver these books one year apart, and you know, so the whole thing would've been done by 1997 or 1998, if I had come through with that.  But of course, no, that fell apart very quickly, I mean, I was writing Game of Thrones, and I was writing it, and I was writing it, and, you know, at a certain point I said, eh, I have, I have like 1200 pages here and I don't have not even close on some of these characters, I better reorganize that and then, oh, okay, It's a four book trilogy.  I had precedent of that, because my dear friend Gene Wolfe who died a few years ago, grand master of science fiction.  When I lived in Chicago, Gene and I went to a workshop together and he was writing The Book of the New Sun, which I was in the writer workshop with him, it was a trilogy, and then it became a four book trilogy.  Gene would joke about it, yes my four book trilogy, and now I have my seven book trilogy, if I can indeed finish it in seven books, but there it is, yeah.

GOO: I was Just gonna say, we love the addition, additions to the trilogy. So keep adding them. And on in that energy, do you think that it might go beyond seven? Could you go beyond seven books?

GRRM: Well, in a sense, it already has, with Dunk and Egg and Fire and Blood and all that.

GOO: The key clutch

GRRM: The main Ice and Fire? I hope not. I hope not. I mean, honestly these are big books. It is conceivable, and I do not know, this is not a definite answer, okay?  But that... Winds of Winter might be a bigger book than either Storm of Swords or Dance with Dragons, which are the two biggest books.  And I'm not talking 10 pages bigger, I'm talking 300 pages bigger or something like that.  Now, if that happens, my publisher might want to divide it into two books.  So in that sense, it's already gone beyond seven.  They might say, this is too long, we can't fit it, so your choice is to cut it, you know, go through and trim it and tighten it down, lose 300 pages, or to divided into multiple books.  And then I will have to wrestle with that situation when it comes up.  But first I have to finish it and see exactly how long it is.  And is there any place to divide it? Does the publisher wanna divide it or they wanna publish it? I may have different, you know, it has happened before, that my American publisher decides to go one way and my British publisher decides to go another way.  And then, you know, you get into situations like in other countries, like France, Italy, where they divided into six books, so yeah.

GOO: Well for the publishers out there, we'll read a 1500 page hard copy. Yeah, no problem, yeah.  We'll read a 1900 page hard copy, yeah.  If they split it, would they, would they call it two different things or would it just be The Winds of Winter Part One and Two?

GRRM: That would then be discussed.  I mean, you can split it into two books, but you can release it as one, you can have two volumes in a slip case, or something like that, and then you, then you do call it Winds of Winter One, Winds of Winter Two, or you give the second part a different title and you don't publish it simultaneously, you publish it six months later or a year later, and et cetera, you know, this is the situation.  I mean, this is not a new situation; this is a situation I faced with A Dance with Dragons.  I mean the fourth book was supposed to be A Dance with Dragons, and again it was late.  I think you may have the theme by now, that deadlines are not my strong point, if I have a strong point, I don't know, but deadlines are not it.  So, you know, we reached a certain point in Dance with Dragons where I'm talking with my publishers and it was not a case of, you know, again, what I said earlier, I don't write the book in an order in which you read it, I write certain characters, so, we're looking at the manuscript that I had at a certain point around, I guess it was like 2005, 2006, and I'm finished with certain characters and I've hardly started with other characters, so, you know, well, okay.  Can we cut off the book chronologically? I mean, we had this discussion, can we just start with the events and we cover a year or two years or whatever, and then go that and say, then you're gonna be halfway through the story on all the characters.  And it was Daniel Abraham, actually, who we're having supper with tonight, who had been in a writer's group with me here, and Daniel of course, is half of James S. A. Corey who did Expanse, is a marvelous fantasy writer in his own right.  He suggested when I was talking about the dilemmas I'm facing with some of my friends, he said, don't divide it chronologically, divide it geographically, and then I said, yes, I can finish the stuff that's happening in King's Landing and Westeros and all that, I can finish that very quickly and we will have a book, and then I can switch gears and do the other stuff that's happening in the other continent, and we do that book, and that's what happened, and that's how we got Feast for Crows and my Dance with Dragons.  Now, was that the right decision? I don't know. I mean, you guys are the fans, you can tell me here. I know a lot of fan sites have published their own versions of the combined reading thing.

GOO: We made our own.

GRRM: Going back and forth between them.

GOO: Yeah…

GRRM: And have you tested that anyone, is there anyone who had not previously read the books, who reads the books with your order and does it work for them?

GOO: Yeah, yeah. Is that annoying to you? Yeah, we, we know, I mean, some of our listeners could chime in online, but we have had a handful of folks who had never read, you know, because I think some of our listeners jumped in watching the show first, and so this was their first opportunity and they read alongside with us with the combined reading order. But the two of us read your publish order, you know? I think that that's the true way, but, I think it's a, a fun experience.  Um, it's like with all the rest of your art, like we have an opportunity to play in Westeros in so many different ways and that's just another way to play in Westeros, so…

GRRM: I mean, if you know the part of me, the artist part of me, putting commercial considerations aside, maybe splitting the book was not the best thing to do. But if I did not split the book considering how much it's done, then there would not have been a book in 2006 I think, whenever Feast came out, you would've been waiting till 2008, I think at least, to have the combined thing, and what would that have done? I don't know, to the readership? I mean, you always have these commercial considerations too, when your publisher is saying, you know, you have a lot of momentum, but the last book was several years ago, you don't wanna take too long, the next book has to come out or people are gonna forget about it, a lot of other books are coming out, so, there's pressure on you from that sense. Oh, I gotta get some sort of book out, you know.  I had an argument with another fantasy author, I won't give any names because I don't want to be perceived as attacking other writers, but back in the days of...God, I was on the online service genie, in the old days, and I remember I got in this argument with another fantasy writer, I was saying something about the struggles I was going through and he was saying: “Ahhh What are you worrying about this for?  I just, I think a thousand pages is enough, I just write a thousand pages and I give it to them, and here it is, publishers”.  What if you're in the middle of everything?  “A thousand pages, long enough, just publish it.”  And then, you know, next chapter picks up and then, you know, so you're just writing this one long thing without any structure and you're just chopping it off every once in a while. Here's another chunk.  I didn't wanna do that. I wanted each story to have a... it's not an end because you're going for the big end, but to little ends, and you know, it's hard to do this. It's not easy to write these books. I mean, sometimes I wonder if the people who are so, you know, angry about this online realize, you know, quite how hard it is, and it is challenging, and, could I do it? I don't think I could ever do it, you know, that they point out to other writers who are doing a book a year, okay, but I couldn't do these as a book a year, you know, and I could never. Yes, I did write my first four novels each in about one year, but this one, no, it's too damn big, at this point it's like 12 novels that are woven together, yeah, so…

GOO: Each of these chapters are like mini books as well, especially some of these Fire and Blood chapters are dense, so…

GRRM: What is lot of stuff happening

GOO: Yeah, of course.

GRRM: Yeah, and honestly, as I write Fire and Blood, I mean, I enjoy the history of Gyldayn and everything I've done in the variant versions, but as I write those things, there's part of me, this is, I could do a whole novel about this. Why am I, you know, why am I doing... I mean, there are certain characters in it who just jump it up at you and say, this character could sustain his or her own novel, or these three characters or this particular event in time, but I gotta take it one day at a time here.

GOO: What comes to mind for me is Aerea, is that how you say her name? When she takes Balerion and disappears for a year. If you wanted to ever write a novel about that, I think there might be some fans, about where he goes and what he sees. So, where did she go, George?

GRRM: Well, I think there's a strong hint of where she goes. There is pretty, pretty, pretty there. I don't know. There are some things I might not ever want to actually reveal, because I do think some mysteries are better left mysteries, because any answer you can give is not good, or is not as good as the mystery. I mean, I thought about, I mentioned HP Lovecraft earlier. I think one of the things about Lovecraft's stories that gives him so much power is, he hints, he suggests, something really horrible is happening, but you don't really get a good description of it, and it works on your subconscious somehow, it disturbs you.   And then you read later horror writers and it's all gore, and it's a guy with a hatchet and he's chopping off your head, or, you know, it's a vampire, or it's something very specific, that could make for a good story, I've written vampires myself, but it doesn't have the visceral power that Lovecraft has.  And I do think there's...I know fans and readers realize that this is fiction, right?

GOO: It's more obvious to us now that we're sitting here, we've been hanging out with you, it's like, oh yeah, this is all in his head. It's not real.

GRRM: I mean, Tolkien was obviously another of the authors that had enormous influence on me, I love Tolkien, but in some ways he was a real anomaly compared to most authors.  I mean, the detail with which he did his world building and the history of Numenor, and the first age, and the second age, and all of this stuff, it was exhaustive for the time and changed fantasy forever.  I mean, fantasy goes back to Gilgamesh and things like that, but if you look at the pre-Tolkien fantasy, it was all very fairy tale-ish, it was once upon a time, there was a king and he had three beautiful daughters, now the king doesn't have a name, his country doesn't have a name, maybe the daughters get a name, but you know, and then they went to the land of fairy and that stories like that could be very good and all that, but Tolkien made it so gritty and realistic, and he built The Lord of the Rings, and to a elastic extent, The Hobbit, on the basis of all this work he'd done in The Silmarillion. Of course but if you go on, you read The Unfinished Tales and his notes, and you realize how much he struggled with that. Even he was revising things and changing things. I mean, imagine what a different world we live in. When they get to Bree, they don't meet Strider, they meet Trotter, the adventurous Hobbit. Where does the story go if you have Trotter, instead of Strider? Very different directions, but Tolkien wrote a lot of that and back. But the point is, I get occasional emails or something from a reader who will say, oh, I'm, I'm very curious about Ulthos, the continent, what can you tell me about Ulthos on the edge of the map there? And, you know, my answer is nothing. I, if we go to Ulthos I'll make up something, I hope it'll be good, if I make it up and it's sort of lame and stupid, I'll try to make up something else, because, you know, first ideas are usually… But you know, there is no Ulthos, I just thought I'll stick something there at the corner.

GOO: Don't say that, you're hurting me now…

GRRM: I know I'm losing all the fans.

GOO: We built our whole, like…

GRRM: Everything that happened in the books comes from what's happening in Ulthos, hahaha

GOO: That's a scoop. 

GRRM: I think I invented half those lands, of course, because of the map book, you know, we did Lands of Ice and Fire a few years ago. These are the secrets of publishing that'll probably shock your listeners who think it's all real, but, so we've done The World of Ice and Fire, which had done well, and so my published said this to me, "oh wait, let's do a map book,” the maps are very popular, oh, okay, that sounds fun, we'll do a map book.  So I had these maps that I'd hand drawn on typing paper, you know, and I'd been adding to them over the years, and so, I had, you know, I not only had the north and the south, but I had a little, little stuff from the free cities and I sent them all to Bantam and they blew them all up and said, well it is nice, but when we blow up to poster sizes, they're kind of blank, can you like put in more stuff?  You know, cities and rivers and mountains and stuff, so, you know, so I did, I went back and I put in a lot more stuff, and, you know, of course, as I'm putting in stuff, that fucking muse in the back of my head is thinking, oh, this is good, yeah, look at that, that'd be a story there, oh, that might be, that'd be interesting, you know, and I'm venting all this damned stuff, and I send it to them and it goes pretty much as far as Qarth, you know, I've done all this and that's fine, and then my editor calls me up and said: “Well, this is great, but we noticed something, there's this scene where the Qartheen Xaro Xhoan Daxos gives Danny a big tapestry of the entire world on it.  And I said, yeah, I remember that scene, yeah. "Qarth's in the middle." Yes, Qarth's in the middle. "Well, it's only on the edge of your maps, the readers are gonna wonder what's on the other side of Qarth. So could you do more maps to fill out the rest, and you've mentioned these places let's see them." So, you know, so now I'm doing maps that, you know, and I know Asshai had to be on it, there had been mentioned many times, and a few mentions of Yi Ti and Leng, so I'm putting them in and then, you know, I'm, what are the cities named? What are the mountains named?  You know, at a certain point, my brain was rotting. So I started stealing things from Lovecraft and, you know, Carcosa, which is actually from Robert W. Chambers's The Yellow King, but Lovecraft borrowed it, and, oh, that's a good name for the city. I'll put in Carcosa. I'll put in Leng of course, I made it an island, it's a plateau in Lovecraft, a horrible Plateau, but it seemed a good name that would ring.  I did tell you the truth, I didn't know that anybody would even notice, but there it is.  And, you know, then at some point, I guess I thought I can't just have Asshai with nothing but sea below, there should be another, so, I put in a little corner of all those there.  And still, of course, you've noticed that there's still more maps.  So, you know, I do get whether what's beyond the Grey Wastes and what's, what is the shape of all those? What is that?  And you know, I don't know. If I live to 105, and the story takes us there, or one of these other shows takes us there. I will make up stuff that hopefully will be good stuff if my muse cooperates and throws up some fun stuff for me.

—GRRM - Game of Owns Podcast - July 8, 2022

#grrm #asoiaf #the winds of winter

[brainysmurfofficial]

Evolution of Brainy Smurf, Part 3: What’s In A Name? (Looking Abroad)

Years covered: 1975(?)-1979

Wikipedia lists the original airdate of the movie La Flûte à six schtroumpfs in Belgium as being 7th October 1976. According to the book The World of Smurfs: A Celebration of Tiny Blue Proportions it was released in Belgium (and France and Holland) on Christmas Eve in 1975. Either way, let’s take a look at it! Keep in mind it would still be some three years or so before the movie would be released in English for the first time as “The Smurfs and the Magic Flute”; thus, we must pay mind to its original French incarnation at the moment.

Now, within the movie, we of course have that song that gets sung about how, though the smurfs may be alike in appearance, they each have unique characteristics, and in turn the smurfs get introduced.

In the original French version, the lines in the song referring to Brainy go like this:

"Il a bonne conscience et le sens du devoir, mais le Schtroumpf à Lunettes est un peu bavard."

Which, courtesy of @ schtroumpfcurieux​, can be translated as:

"He has a good conscience, and the sense of duty, but Brainy Smurf is a bit talkative."

Hmm!

Brainy getting mallet’d is also a thing that is alive and well in this movie. XD

We have mallet gags, we see him lecturing others, and he’s present in other scenes throughout the movie as well. So that’s a wrap on the movie! For now.

Now let’s turn our attention back to the comics for a moment.

1976 also brings us the Smurf Soup comic, La Soupe Aux Schtroumpfs.

In the beginning, Brainy is shown to be cautious and hushes the other since they’re near Gargamel’s hovel. Papa Smurf strategically deploys Brainy to lecture to Bigmouth in order to stall for time. Brainy seems shocked to note that the others are actually seemingly agreeing with him and encouraging his lecturing for once.

Brainy stupidly offers himself up to go into the soup, not realising that the others who have volunteered will be magically protected. Brainy, you FOOL. Not to mention he was also ready to unthinkingly give Gargamel instructions to get to the village, just like that.

He seems to be very “appearance over content”, unthinkingly prioritising form over substance even to his own detriment or the detriment of others. He doesn’t seem to be thinking through the consequences of his actions beyond the actions themselves. “I must volunteer to go into the soup because Papa requested volunteers, and I must always show myself to be following Papa Smurf’s words, and others are also volunteering…”, not actually thinking through what going into the soup actually entails, and “I know how to get to the village, so I will simply speak those instructions for how to get to the village”, not “it would be bad for myself and the village for Gargamel to have those instructions.”

There is also a collection of one-page comics published the same year;

In the one-page comic “It’s All Fun and Smurfs, Till Someone Gets Smurfed” Brainy is playing chess against another smurf – and loses.

Then there is the comic “Strike The Smurf While It’s Still Smurf” wherein Brainy gets mallet’d by his own reflection! (This comic is incredibly iconic in my eyes, but I may be biased to the extent that I can’t necessarily dissect it in much of the same objective manner that I am usually aiming for in these posts. Its presence on Brainy’s wiki page meant it was one of the first pieces of Brainy content I ever encountered, coupled with the caption seemingly framing the comic as a definitive statement of Brainy’s practically universal ability to annoy – it’s like a suggestion that even he would turn on himself, given the opportunity!)

To move on, now- it was The Smurf Song that really pushed the smurfs franchise into the international limelight. It’s interesting to note that Brainy is one of the three smurfs showcased in the associated video for it.

Now, the contents of the songs in the album aren’t canon of course, nor do they really showcase any of Brainy’s personality or anything – he’s just a random placeholder smurf that could have been switched out for anyone. I think his presence is merely to provide some variety since his glasses are something different and unique compared to other smurfs that helps him stand out. It showcases some variety in appearance/design. You have Papa’s presence as a very obvious choice – he’s a prominent character being the smurfs’ leader and with a design that makes him stand out very definitively. You need at least one standard, generic-looking smurf, and then instead of having two smurfs of standard design, they throw in the one with glasses as well, so that all three look different.

And although Smurfette had already been introduced to the franchise at this point, she was not nearly as central to the franchise as she would later become – by this point, she was a character that had been established to not live in the village with the other smurfs, so wasn’t really there/around much at all, plus canon still treated her in a very “othering” way wherein she wasn’t a go-to smurf to think of, but rather something “extra” – arguably a bit of an “afterthought” in the franchise’s eyes, if that makes sense. No Smurfette puppet in The Smurf Song, is what that boils down to. I mean, she wasn’t in Smurfs and the Magic Flute either – because she’s still not an established member of the village at this point. So that rules her out from being centred in any promotional/marketing material (unlike what would become the case later on). We’re left with Brainy as a prominent candidate as “smurf with a slightly different design compared to the others, adding in some variety”. Note that the appearance difference itself is the relevant factor here, not his actual character/personality. He could have had any number of different personalities and would still probably get thrown in for that bit of variety he adds.

The Smurf Song’s English translation was a massive hit in 1978. 1978 also brought us petrol commercials/ad campaigns featuring the smurfs for the English-speaking world. And yeah, Brainy’s featured there too.

Again, not canon and therefore nothing really indicative of Brainy’s character, but it’s interesting to note that in general within popular culture, when a bunch of smurfs are depicted outside of the core canon, there seems to be this notion of “just slap a pair of glasses on one of them” – a general awareness that there is a Glasses-Wearing Smurf that like, Exists, even if nothing at all beyond that is known about the character.

There is something I want to draw attention to however…

Now, Brainy is not referred to by name within these commercials. But the Lost Media Wiki shows this material produced showcasing the contents of one of the commercials before it began airing – it’s internally-produced corporate material.

And he has a name.

In English.

Brainy.

Now, smurf figurines were a Big Deal ever since the 60s… in the European market, at least. It would become a Big Deal in the English-speaking market later on too, but the question is… when? From what I’ve managed to find (and I’m welcome to receive any corrections on this, as well as any comments/feedback/additions on these posts in general!), it took The Smurf Song’s rise to fame first to get smurfs enough of a foothold into English-speaking popular culture before smurfs figurines could become much of a thing in these other parts of the world. We know the smurf figurine craze was booming in English-speaking places in 1978.

And why does this matter, you ask? Well, I’m terribly curious about this for one key reason: Brainy’s English name. If you’re pushing the sale of figurines/merchandise in the English-speaking world and Brainy is featured, the question becomes: how does, say, this smurf with glasses figurine get labelled? Because in the European market, he’d been labelled very straightforwardly as “smurf with glasses”. Or would the merchandise even have an English label to begin with prior to this point? A smurf-with-glasses figurine could still be simply treated as just that, the name cast as something of a point of irrelevance.

So far, the National Benzole commercial is the earliest instance I’ve found where Smurf With Glasses has been given the English name “Brainy”. (Naturally, as an extension of that, any Brainy figurines/merchandise associated with that specific marketing campaign would therefore be labelled with that name too. But still, what about before then…? Were there Brainy figurines available in English-speaking countries? If so, what were they called? Etc.)

We’re left with a couple of possibilities:

·       The decision for Smurf-With-Glasses to be called “Brainy” in English had already been made prior to this point, with input from Peyo and co, and the commercial-makers took their cue in his inclusion/naming from this, adopting this name accordingly for their own glasses-clad smurf featured in their commercial

·       The name was chosen in the course of making this commercial/associated marketing campaign featuring the Smurfs for the English-speaking places it would be featured in.

And to that end, if the name was only selected in the construction of this marketing campaign, who had the most influence over what the name would be, and what was the thought process behind it? Inquiring minds would love to know…

Either Peyo and co were consulted/had most of the input, or the commercial-makers/marketing campaign runners had most of the input when it came to his name.

In terms of the latter suggestion, keep in mind that these petrol commercials evidently cared very little for actual smurf canon, so it wouldn’t necessarily be too farfetched. They are only using smurfs as advertising set-dressing with no regard beyond that; “National Smurf” is transparently nonsensical in terms of Smurfs canon, created here to exist only for the commercial(s) itself. Smurfs named things like “Cheery” and “Helpful” were never actually established smurfs either – they’re made up by the people who worked on these commercials. I don’t think it’s outside the realm of possibility that the name “Brainy” was chosen somewhat arbitrarily by the people using smurfs to market the sale of petrol, and Peyo and co didn’t really mind/just sort of OK’d it.

Here’s another point of consideration: if Peyo and co did have input into the English name that was chosen, what was their understanding of the English name and the reason it was suitable? How limited were they by the language barrier in place? How much were they needing to rely on an intermediary to bridge the language gap…?

Let’s think about the character’s existence and what we know about him up to this point and the selection of the name “Brainy Smurf”, and let’s play a game where we try to brainstorm hypothetical alternative English names/descriptors for him. I’m certainly not saying it’s easy. And something always tends to get lost in translation – there’s really not much of a way to preserve a 1:1 when you’re switching words between one language to another.

There are a lot of different factors you have to take into account here – you need a name that “works” in English. That takes “Glasses Smurf” or “Smurf-With-Glasses” off the table right away, because those names sound very clunky in English and don’t have much of a ring to them at all. Or to be more specific, “Glasses Smurf” can have its own charm as a name, but doesn’t really adhere to the -y/-er ending convention they’re going for. Not to mention that part of the appeal of smurfs in the smurfs franchise which was further pushed into prominence for the English-speaking world are their different personalities shining through – so when choosing a name in English, you’d preferably want to try for something that says something about the character as opposed to just a straightforward physical description. Not only that, but you want to choose something that works for children to be able to readily comprehend and understand – that rules out words that are too advanced for a standard child’s vocabulary or too complex. Words/names that are too complex also get ruled out if they’re too much of a mouthful to say.

Another point of consideration is marketing. From a money-making point of view, it’s preferable to have characters with marketable names that can become recognisable and appeal to consumers. (Looking somewhat ahead to the English translations of the movie/the 80s TV series, words that are too much of a mouthful to say also get ruled out from a standpoint of the name needing to get regularly used by the characters, and also if the name is too complex not only would it be difficult to say on the regular, but it would likely strain immersion/believability/suspension-of-disbelief on behalf of consumers, unless an over-the-top name is specifically the joke/part of the point).

So with that in mind, if we briefly go back to the character’s roots as Schtroumpf Moralisateur… Well, we can’t call him Sanctimonious Smurf. That word falls into the “complex” category. (We can’t exactly call him Sycophant(ic) Smurf for much the same reason, HAH).

Let me look at an online thesaurus. Moraliser Smurf, Stuffy Smurf, Goody-goody Smurf, Preachy Smurf, Morality Smurf… Hmm.

Let me throw out a bunch of further random names/descriptors (names that aren’t necessarily good, mind you, just me randomly throwing whatever at the wall)… Finicky Smurf, Busybody Smurf, Blabbermouth Smurf, Tattler Smurf, Fussy Smurf, Bossy Smurf. (Hell, in the Mr Men franchise, Mr Fussy later got the name Mr Persnickety/Pernickety, so why not throw in “Persnickety Smurf” too? Haha).

I’m sure there are more names I can come up with if I really thought on it. Now, all of these names are different – they focus on different aspects and would all frame the character differently for an English-speaking audience –but I’d argue they are all somewhat applicable descriptors for Brainy up to this point in the franchise (and there really is no “perfect solution” here when selecting an English name). One thing to draw attention to, however, is that the vast majority of name suggestions I have offered up here carry negative connotations. “Morality Smurf” is probably the one with the least overt negative connotations attached to it. In an alternate universe where Brainy’s English name was Morality Smurf, the name could seem innocuous enough, and then when you actually learn more about the character you find that a) the name is because he’s always policing others’ behaviour and because he’s seemingly so preoccupied with what one should/shouldn’t do b) the name is something of a source of irony whenever his own behaviour is substandard.

His French name, “Glasses-Smurf”, in its simple act of physical description, is rather value-neutral as a name.

The name “Brainy” has potential negative connotations as well as potential positive connotations. Its adjacent existence to derogatory terms such as “Brainiac” and the dated “Smarty(-pants)” (“Smarty” as a term on its own being something that used to be a derogatory name in the past for a know-it-all), and “wise guy” and “smart alec” and so on… you get the picture. These adjacent terms may get applied to a self-styled know-it-all who insists they’re right and know better than you (without necessarily commenting on the person’s actual level of intelligence). And Brainy is indeed someone who insists he knows better than those around him.

On the other end of consideration, you have the obvious, more positive connotations that come with the word “brainy”: intelligence, academic inclination, being smart.

(The word “intellectual” has also had its own negative connotations attached to it throughout history and has been used as an insult, but I digress).

Up to this point, Brainy Smurf has been shown to be pedantic. He’s been shown to be someone who acts like and insists he knows better than those around him. He’s been shown as an insufferable bore, a rule-enforcer, as someone who prattles on and on… but his character had never really had an explicitly academic dimension or connotation to it. Up to this point, there’d been no real association in terms of his name, behaviour, and character, with the concept of intelligence.

Gaining the English name “Brainy” presents an undeniable shift in the framing of this character for English audiences, who he is, his self-perception, his personality.

(That being said, as mentioned before, any chosen English name would have the very same effect in terms of changing the character’s framing, however subtle the shift would be; regardless of whatever hypothetical suggested name from earlier, any of them being chosen also would have changed the framing of the character for English audiences too! Unless his name was preserved as Glasses Smurf/Bespectacled Smurf, but that would present its own challenges as already discussed).

“The Smurfs and the Magic Flute” was translated to English and released in the UK in 1979. Let’s see what this translation has to say about the now-named Brainy Smurf, hmm?

“He’s a very clever chap, about life and such, but our Brainy Smurf often talks far too much!”

Let’s compare this to the translation of the French version from earlier in this post:

"He has a good conscience, and the sense of duty, but Brainy Smurf is a bit talkative."

Hmm… we’ve got “good conscience”, “sense of duty”, “talkative”… Ah, but I don’t see anything about cleverness here, do I?

Now, the reason for this semantic shift is clear enough: this song is specifically pointing out the smurfs’ unique personalities in correlation with their names, and the English version wants to emphasise that. The word “clever” gets thrown in here to help draw the connection to the name “Brainy”… Both this name and the mention of cleverness being completely absent in the original version.

…Well folks, the stage has now been set. At this point in our exploration, Smurfs have gained a foothold in and the attention of the English-speaking market, Brainy’s now sporting his English name… The 80s and its accompanying television series await. Next time, we’ll dive right in, and see where the canon will now take us! Thanks for reading, and looking forward to being able to do up the next post for you all!

#Smurfs #The Smurfs #Brainy Smurf #long post