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postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 2 years

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Episode 2x02 of The Boys! Okay, that was too much tv for one day, my head is not liking it. Note to self, no more than one episode a day.

It’s impressive how well the show keeps so many storylines happen in one episode without making it feel excessive. I think I’ll say something for each storyline, actually. I’m enjoying this.

The boys - it’s happening even faster than I thought, Hughie setting the basis for becoming the leader of the group, or least the one that restructures how the group works. Frenchie called Butcher because he thinks they need Butcher as their leader, but they have outgrown Butcher. Butcher needs to catch up with them now, change his behavior and stop with the omissions. He does a little bit when he realizes the others are not following him, telling them about Becca and all, but he still has a long way to go. All of them have way to go as a team.

Stormfront is intriguing, or better yet, Edgar’s intentions in hiring her are. Because the narrative made a big deal out of her being the only one that Edgar chose himself. The others were approved by Homelander, i.e. they were Stillwell’s creatures. (One could speculate whether Edgar promoting Stillwell was a way to control her better, but now that she’s dead, we can’t really tell.)

When Annie joined the Seven and acted against the script, she was immediately reprimanded to try to rein her in. Stormfront is openly acting in a way that goes blatantly against the regular superhero propaganda of Vought, and with Edgar telling Homelander that they’re not a superhero company but a pharmaceutical company, I’m wondering if Edgar’s plans are to dismantle the current superhero propaganda line (Stillwell’s creation rather than his?) for something else, something that does not need Homelander the way Stillwell’s line did.

In addition to this, I believe she’s there to investigate on the others. Her pushing Annie’s buttons so insistently have led Annie to reveal a lot about herself that she really shouldn’t have. That she agrees with Stormfront’s remarks on Vought, that she’s not what she appears, that speaking too freely about Vought is not safe--girl, you cannot trust a stranger with this information! Be careful!

(I wonder if with all this “if Homelander finds out about this you’re dead!!” is narrative irony and it’s not actually Homelander she needs to be careful of. Well, it kinda happened already with A-Train, although in this case the threat is that A-Train goes talking to Homelander.)

Now, speaking of Homelander--ouch. He actually has Feelings(TM) about the situation with the kid. I think he’s sincere when he basically says he’s desperate to find someone like him, because being “a god” is so isolating and lonely, and he also projects (not necessarily being wrong about it) his trauma about growing up in a lab onto Ryan’s situation of growing up in what is essentially a golden cage, but still a prison. Of course it’s a prison to keep something out rather than something in, but when you build a wall to keep something out, you also keep something in. He has a point when he brings this up to Becca, although of course the reason all of this is happening is that Becca (and Vogelbaum) wanted the kid to be the least like Homelander he could possibly be, which is not a bad concept.

(I think the thing will blow up in both Becca’s and Homelander’s faces in different ways. Then again, what in this show doesn’t blow up in people’s faces.)

The Deep’s situation is quite interesting because he’s being taken in by a straight-on textbook cult, but it could actually help him out (until it doesn’t) or at least be a catalyst for him to help himself. I guess it will be an Experience(TM), painful but useful. I wonder if Eagle is a cult man through and though or if he has his own goals (joining the Seven himself?). I have suspicions. I think you can imagine what my suspicions are.

That first shot of his paper where it says “What could I not live without” and his answer is a large MY TALENT makes me also suspect he’s going to lose it at some point. Bit of too on your nose, you know? He also has a pattern of really shitty luck. We also gotta introduce the concept of the possibility of a supe losing their powers sooner or later, right?

A-Train--I really feel for the guy. He��s not a bad guy and the circumstances of the narrative placing him opposite the protagonists is so frustrating (in a good narrative way obviously). He and Popclaw made distructive mistakes that stemmed from the fact that their powers are more of a curse for them than blessings. One could argue it goes for everyone in the show (I mean, it’s true), but A-Train and Popclaw’s arc serves the purpose to highlight how much of a curse these powers are rather than a blessing (in their case, a literal drug that leads to her death and almost kills him too). The official story is that supes are chosen by Jesus, the harsh reality is that their powers are really not good for them, and they end up lonely and making bad life choices because of them. I do hope A-Train gets some peace eventually, but I’m not getting my hopes too up.

Speaking of how supes are made - oh, Kimiko’s brother. Interesting arc. Until now, “terrorists” were random extras we didn’t have an attachment to, but now we have an emotional attachment to him through Kimiko. He represents the people who do become “terrorists” because they have a cause for it - they want to destroy America because America destroyed their people first. Kimiko’s brother saw a man clothed with the American flag come down from the sky and slaughter his village. Of course the narrative cannot say he’s “right”, because America is both the Homelanders but also the Hughies and the MMs so wanting to destroy it all is too extreme, but it’s still interesting that, by giving this perspective to a character that we have a kind of attachment to, shows us that it might be a “wrong” perspective but still one that has a validity to it. Our protagonist do want to destroy the toxic capitalistic, militaristic part of America, after all.

Maeve. Now that she’s come clean to her ex about the reason she left her, I am really afraid for the poor woman’s chances of survival. I mean, not because of Maeve, but because of how narratives function. I’m afraid the hospitalization for something minor is foreshadowing for something way more severe.

She’s so cute in civilian clothes. Please put Maeve in more sweaters. Actually put more characters in more sweaters in general. #sweatersupremacy

On a final note, the reason why Homelander kept Butcher alive. He didn’t have to. He could have just pulverized him and get rid of the problem. Butcher would have been imputed for Stillwell’s murder and mysteriously disappeared forever. I suppose it’s because Homelander respects/is impressed by him? How many people, after all, are not afraid of Homelander? Does Homelander not want him out of the picture because he’s a challenge, something he has so little of?

#marghe watches the boys

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faroreswinds · 2 years

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And now, the anon asks.

Claude really benefited from having Byleth around then, interesting. For the other two are their routes a better ending for them or do they end up worse like Claude and thus showing why 3H needed to happen the way it did?

Yeah, Claude is not drinking the kool-aid in Houses.

Dimitri’s seems to be more or less the same, really. And Edelgard’s is maaaaybe better? I’m not entirely sure. Rhea dies by stopping Thales. I guess that makes a win in Edelgard’s book.

Arvals last bit of dialogue is definitely meant to be tragic. Turns out the one Agarthan whose been Agarthaning the longest is also the one who feels the most isolated trying to fight for a doomed cause. Also Rhea blushing in Azure Gleams ending cinematic is WHOA!

Is Rhea really blushing? I’ve seen others say it but I can’t really tell. Am I dumb here?

But yes, Arvis is clearly meant to be tragic to some degree. Is it bad, though, that I kinda feel... nothing for it? Like... Arval kinda annoys me. And drove me to do the murder, I’m not entirely his biggest fan.

AG has Seteth and Flayn, so maybe Claude learns the truth there?

I hope so! AG is really shaping up to be the one that addresses the Slithers the most! I hope we get some sweet Nabatean lore too, I really really hope so.

Edelgard being the one most likely to break the truce would hilariously put her in the weakest position, especially on GW and AG. Dimitri saved her and defeated her army with the Church and Alliance, Claude lets her army get heavily damaged and deals with Rhea with minimal harm to the Alliance and Kingdom in comparison, and she loses her justification for war to make her sound noble and righteous.

There has been a new development on this front, actually.

It’s looking like the “truce” is a side chapter that CAN occur if the condition are met right before the final chapter.

I had kinda been wondering that when I peeked at the dialogue. But now it’s looking to be true. They have their truce, kill Arval, then finish their respective routes.

AG shaping up to be the golden route.

I’m glad to know Claude wasn’t completely butchered as we all feared but if Edelgard said that getting rid of the Church isn’t enough and she wants to completely dissolve Faerghus, why did Claude think getting rid of Rhea would stop Edelgard? She outright says to his face it wouldn’t

You and I are asking the same questions, my friend.

Claude is just basically drinking the kool-aid and deciding to blame the Church because the Empire did, really. Although his reasoning is still better, it’s still not the BEST look and I’m still kinda disappointed. He’s not looking smart while also looking brilliant with his plans. Weird, man.

so is claude trying to conquer faerghus or not? like is he just trying to get dimitri to stand down so he can get to rhea? which dimitri already implied he was willing to do in that conversation with gustave? so dimitri and claude have a cutscene after the fight???

He’s not trying to conquer the Kingdom. He wants to get to Rhea and kill her.

Dimitri fights but is completely outnumbered and seems to stand down. I mean, what else was he to do, lol? Dimitri is really the embodiment of “damned if you do, damned if you don’t”. He’s getting destroyed from all fronts all the time. Dude cannot catch a break.

If it isn't too much to ask, what happens to Edelgard at the end of AG?

I'm seeing people say stuff that give me the major icks. Please no dimi / gard ending ugh.

no Dimi/Elegard ending. Dimitri does have a chat with her in the special side chapter thing, and he admits he cannot just talk to her without thinking about the pain she caused. Edelgard is not so kind, lol. But they put aside their difference for a brief moment.

Anyways, Edelgard is freed from her mind control but is basically either mind broken or stunned. Dimitri looks at her, then just walks right by her, leaving her there all alone. And that’s all so far.

Gotta say love how they add more nuance to the dads while not making them saints. Daddy Gautier even tried to raise the Sreng hostage after his wife was killed by a Sreng raid, only for him to flee and lead invasions himself.

Dude, there are so much Dad stuff happening! Daddy Emblem, unite!

But seriously, anyone thinking Gautier is a monster owes me an apology, I’ve been defending the guy for years. He’s no angel but guy is legit alright.

Lmao the leak says Margrave Gautier taught the Sreng hostage Fodlan language hoping to improve the relationship, while Petra says in the Empire there was nobody to teach her in her Dedue support.

We stan Faerghus.

And here I thought the Kingdom were the monsters, with needing help from the Empire or how they are so nice to Petra and the Kingdom is so mean to Duscur, etc etc.

Seriously, the Kingdom ain’t perfect but it’s not some place completely devoid of good things either.

So did Claude screwed Edelgard over?

Yes. Claude seems to save Edelgard, only then to use her for his own gains.

Dude. Hardcore.

Three Hopes really is a route about showing how the Lords will turn out without Byleth holy shit. Sreng invades cause of Claude, his ignorance leads him to buy Edelgards spiel, Gautier dies fighting for his friends and admitting he was a bad dad to Sylvain, Arval got stuck with a thankless job for a dying race of psychopaths who hate everyone else so much they’ll wipe themselves out to destroy them, and he wants to prevent their extinction, Sothis telling Byleth to embrace revenge if they wantit

Whoa, I haven’t seen the “bad dad stuff” about Gautier yet. And literally I just answered another anon saying I am owed an apology about the guy. (I still think I am though).

Arval dug his own grave, dude was a slither too. I don’t care about him. But I just saw the Sothis stuff and that is a BIG yikes from me. Wtf did they do to her?!

Someone is going to eat that up and it ain’t going to be good.

This seriously is the worst timeline. And here I was mad at Foldan for uniting. I take it back, let them unite over this garbage.

#Three Hopes #anon asks

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lazyliars · 3 years

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/rp

Before I get into it, I want to state that is EXPLICITLY an analysis of the Characters, and is not intended to touch on how the cc’s played them in a meta sense unless specifically stated otherwise.

Also, this is technically a part two to my other post, which took a more in depth look at Techno and Phil’s reactions to Tommy’s death. It’s not necessary when reading this post, but I don’t address their reactions here.

So. The question must be asked.

Are we [the Syndicate] the baddies?

Yes.

The End.

Why are the Syndicate the baddies?

They got damn logo is a wither skull.

The End.

That's not how this works.

Yeah, yeah. You’re right.

The Syndicate's goals as an organization are not inherently bad. They seem to have good intentions behind them, and the focus on the freedom of it's individual group members is important to remember when talking about it; It is not a government. There is no hierarchical power system. No one is forced to do anything against their will, or surrender any of their rights or power to remain a member. It is not a government.

I also want to address Techno and Phil backing Ranboo into a corner – I see them getting a lot of flack for this, but I personally do not think it is relevant to the greater discussion, or necessarily representative of any contradictions within the organization. It was clearly played for laughs, and after they back off they clarify to Ranboo that they won't force him. Then later when Phil and Ranboo are alone, Ranboo feels safe enough to express that he felt like he was pressured into it, and Phil assures him he is allowed to leave whenever he wants; He is not being forced to do anything, and he is not being coerced or blackmailed.

None of the Syndicate members have done any wrongs against each other in the context of the Syndicate, OR gone against any of the Syndicate's core principles.

That, said, holy shit are they the baddies.

Listen, there's trying to telegraph a meaning or message to the audience and then there's having your logo be wither skulls on blackstone. That is straight out of the skit I keep referencing, seriously.

Okay, but, they laughed at it! It was played as a joke, just like the Ranboo thing!

The Ranboo thing was improv, the Syndicate's headquarters were planned – the artistic choices that they made reflect on what role they want the build and the organization inhabiting it to play in the future storylines.

Wither Skulls kind of have some CONNOTATIONS. Techno is an English major, I don't think he chose the most threatening imagery possible on accident, and then joked about the way people would interpret it just to stir the pot. This reads as hugely intentional.

And beyond that, the jokes they make during this part aren't “haha yeah, we look bad but we're actually good!” they're “you can tell by looking at these that we're the good guys wink wink, this is good guy stuff right here :)” It is a joke about how they are definitely not the good guys. This isn't even a case of unreliable narrators, this is one step down from flat out saying the meta intent.

But okay, I hear you, I'm talking about things that haven't happened yet. The Syndicate hasn't used any Withers, they could be an aesthetic choice. Lets look at what they do in practice.

So, they barge into private property, assess Snowchester's right to continue existing based entirely on their own ideals of what Freedom is, and then only once Tubbo assures them that they have no standing leader do they grant the place their approval to, and I gotta stress this part, continue existing.

In my Quackity meta, I already talked about how Government in the context of a M1necraft RP cannot be compared to IRL Governments on a one-to-one scale. They don't serve the same purposes or have the same type of power. What I didn't talk about was Agency in the context of m1necraft governments.

In an irl government, if you are born into one, you can't really leave without committing a massive overhaul on your life, which can be expensive and difficult, if not impossible for many people. Even in a “benevolent” government, the simple physicality of where you were born can prevent you from leaving it easily.

The same hurdles do not exist in the Dream SMP. People who join M1necraft governments choose to. They want to, either at the beginning when they form one, or later on when they join up. So far, no Government has just Sprung Up and forced the current residents of an area to become dependent on them, except maybe the Eggpire, who's status as a government is... shakey.

And even when people want to leave or separate from the government, they have been historically able to do so without any trouble or any effort from said governments to stop them. Jack Manifold emancipated from Manberg. Fundy and Quackity both left to start new nations. In all cases they were allowed to do so without any attempts on the part of the governments to stop them, either through force, or institutions preventing them from doing so.

The most anyone has lost when leaving a government is their house, which is still usually their property anyway, and is something that is easily rebuilt elsewhere and is inconvenient to move anyway.

The only exceptions to this might be Schlatt exiling Wilbur and Tommy - but even then, they weren’t trying to leave, they were trying to get back in, and of course the original L’manberg revolution, where Dream attempted to force L’manberg back into the Dream SMP, which wasn’t even a government at that point in time.

I don’t consider Phil’s house arrest an example of a government forcing someone to stay a citizen - that was treated less as a matter of a citizen wanting to leave the country and more as a threat to national security. Still pretty fucked up, but it’s a different issue.

What I'm saying is, If Tubbo wants to create a government out in the middle of nowhere, threatening no one, forcing no one to join either through force or desperation, and allowing people to join willingly because they want to, then he should be allowed to do that.

The Irony of the Syndicate, a group of people consisting of some of the richest, strongest people on the server, going around and enforcing 'Freedom' that entails no one person having more power than any other, is absurd.

It shows an extreme lack of self-awareness and/or self-righteousness, as they seem to think that they deserve to be the ones who decide what constitutes a government.

Snowchester is a small independent nation - they shouldn’t have to live in fear of being obliterated if they don’t walk on eggshells to meet an arbitrary standard decided by people who’s only authority on the matter COMES FROM THEIR PERSONAL POWER. No one elected them! No one chose them! They were not “approved” by the server at large to enact this kind of law.

The Syndicate are not a government, but they are an unsupervised power structure exerting their ideals on a land that did not ask for them. Like, These people have invented an actual Authoritarian-Anarchist faction. How the hell did they manage this?????

Back on topic.

Tubbo shows them the crater left by his nukes. The reaction is oddly positive – the nukes are fine by the morals of the Syndicate, apparently. I'd argue that they come across as more impressed than anything else; they seem to respect Tubbo for having gotten ahold of “real” power.

(There's a few good memes out there about “We can excuse nuclear weaponry, but we draw the line at Government!”)

So. By the Syndicate's standards: A single person or group of acceptably equal persons with weapons of mass-destruction are only worth “keeping an eye on” because they might provoke other people.

Like, I consider Project Dreamcatcher to be one of, if not the most morally ambiguous thing Tubbo has ever done, largely because it was all on his own initiative. He holds some culpability for The Butcher Army and Phil's house arrest, but they weren't his ideas and he was mostly following Quackity at that point.

And Phil tells Tubbo, IMMEDIATELY AFTER SEEING THE NUCLEAR CRATER:

“Looks like you've reformed a little bit Tubbo, I'm proud.”

And it's fine. Crimes against nature? Fine. A sign of healing in fact!! Tubbo is having a sweeeelll time and he definitely didn't make these nukes specifically in fear of being attacked by these exact people! Tubbo is doing great. Tubbo is doing fine. Tubbo. is. FINE.

Anyway.

I don't think this presentation of the Syndicate was an accident. Looking at the greater lore of SMP right now, after the Egg is done, their list of enemies is slim, and considering that they seem solely invested in taking down governments, that leaves maybe Snowchester, Kinoko Kingdom, and Eret and the greater Dream SMP.

Snowchester has not been shown to be corrupt, evil, or have any intent to go down that route. The most ambiguous thing they've done is, again, is the nukes. Other than that, it's pretty much your average cottagecore snow village.

Kinoko is presented in an even more morally 'good' light, Karl having founded it specifically for his Time-travel library purposes, which are currently being treated by the narrative as a selfless act, if not downright heroic.

Eret is also a fairly 'good' aligned character atm. He's been on that redemption grind since the og betrayal, and doesn't seem keen on backtracking. He's actively tried to leverage his position as king to make things better, and hasn't been quiet about that. He was also 'validated' by Tommy*, a character who has been described both by his allies and enemies as “the hero,” so take that as you will.

What I'm getting at is, all of the current potential enemies for the Syndicate aside from the Egg, are currently being cast as 'good,' and if they were to be attacked, they would undoubtedly have the moral high-ground, unless something drastically changed.

The only potential shakeups I can think of is are a Dream escape and/or a Wilbur revival, both of which could draw the Syndicate's attention and ire, depending on how things go. That said, it's just as likely that either or both of them would join the Syndicate – Dream still has that favor, and Phil and Techno both seemed to think Wilbur would've agreed with their blowing up L'manberg.

Both of those characters are currently **villains – the fact that they're both prime candidates for the Syndicate is a huge indication of the direction it's going to go as the plot moves forward.

((*I know some people are gonna come at me for painting Tommy as the “deciding factor” of what is morally good, so lemme just stop you there. I'm not talking about Tommy somehow having the 'right' to decide who is and isn't good, and definitely not the right to decide who should and shouldn't be king. I'm saying that Tommy, a character who the narrative treats as, if not a good person, then a person who is trying to be good, was in support of Eret, a character who has also been trying to be good.

Eret doesn't gain the moral highground because Tommy said so, he gets it because a character who the narrative treats as trying to do better, acknowledged Eret's earnest attempts at doing the same.

**I'm referring to Wilbur here as a villain because Tommy seemed convinced he would be if he were to be brought back. There is always the possibility that he's wrong.))

So, to summarize this: I read the Syndicate as being intentionally positioned as future antagonists, if not outright villains of a future arc. They are NOT a Government but their goals are contradictory with their means, and it is important to keep in mind that they plan to enforce their own brand of freedom on people who did not grant them either the authority or permission to do so.

So, uh. Can you tell I loved these streams? They were seriously so good. I kept switching between Ranboo and Techno's POV's trying to keep up with everything. I still have to watch Niki's!

All in all, I'm super, super excited for whats coming next, egg stuff, Syndicate stuff, Tommy stuff, all of it.

#dream smp #tubbo #the syndicate #c!techno critical #c!phil critical #dream smp analysis #lazytext

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

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I’m going to try come up with other ideas lol but these jumped out at me. I would absolutely use these for something! I’m saving them too because I just might!

But if you feel like it, these combined scenarios could be really fun for a sarcastic, grouchy ass Flip or Kylo AU. It could be anything from enemies to antagonists to the guy being in trouble with you currently from doing stupid shit and trying to make up with you! Anything you think!

your enemy has been badly wounded, and somebody needs to bandage them up, so you agree to help them, and suddenly they're shirtless, and you can't help but admire their body, something this cheeky motherfucker takes notice of

there's only one bed, but this time, they're arguing over who should sleep on the floor, which nobody agrees to, so instead they end up sharing, incredibly annoyed over having to share their space (it’s not like friends to lovers, in which they both awkwardly get into bed. this is straight up just. i will set this bed on fire if you don’t stay on your side)

The Longest Knight {Sir Kylo Ren x Reader}

author's notes: hello, hello! shannon, dear, you always seem to know what I'm in need of when you send requests in. I've been dying for an excuse to write some medieval/knight Kylo, and this fits in perfectly with that AU, so thank you! <3

**THERE ARE SOME DARK(ER) THEMES IN THIS STORY, BUT ONLY AT THE VERY BEGINNING (there’s an indicator of when the dark content ends, in bold, you can’t miss it). PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND TW’S BEFORE PROCEEDING!**

warnings: some angst. some gore. some fluff. smut. enemies-with-benefits. sex w/o feelings. kylo is a huge douche (but in, like, a lowkey sexy way).

tw's: (at the very beginning): dead bodies & blood, vivid depictions of wounds/injuries, brief depictions of battle, implied (battle-related) murder. mentions of sex work (later on in the story, not relating to the reader character).

word count: 4.4k

terms to know: loincloth: groin-covering cloth tied around the waist (literally just underwear). bedswerver: “adulterer” (an insult). mamillare: medieval breast band (bra).

When the sounds of marching footfall, deep cries of manly battle, and shod hooves pounding on the drought-hardened ground had ceased from the air, you saddle your horse and ride out to the far field of your property.

The putrid smell of rotting flesh hits you before any bodies are even in view. Your prized stallion slows his trot, nostrils flaring and ears perked forward as the scene of battle presents itself to both of you.

He begins to snort and whinny in acute panic at the sight of so many corpses, both human and horse. Your stomach begins to churn, and you can barely bring yourself to look upon the scene as your heel encourages him onward, wanting to make sure there aren’t any surviving soldiers.

Both sides seem to have suffered great loss, although you’re unsure which corpses belong to which side. The conflict betwixt Alderaan and Naboo has been dragging on much too long, and at the end of the day, is any conflict truly worth all of the lives lost?

You certainly didn’t think so, but perhaps you’re just too close to this war, incapable of having an unbiased opinion due to the loss of your beloved husband at the hands of Sir Kylo Ren, the Alderaanean calvary general and the most feared man across all five kingdoms.

As you make your rounds to check for survivors, much to the dismay of your steed, you quickly lose almost all hope that anyone laid here ended up surviving the brutality apparently brought down upon them during the fight.

Suddenly, your horse lifts himself up on hinds legs ever so slightly, jogging in place as a barely-audible groan comes from one of the men. His hand moves ever so slightly, and you quickly rush over to him, dismounting with a small first aid bag.

His helmet is that of a high-ranking official, but on which side he belongs, it’s too hard to tell. Not that it truly matters, you’d take just about any man with the courage to fight these battles.

“Sir?” You say, kneeling down beside the large man. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

He grunts lowly, winter-chapped lips opening in an attempt to speak. “S-Stomach.”

Once your mind registers his husky words, you look down at his abdomen and see that his armor seems to have been compromised in a spot right on the side of his stomach. Fresh blood seeps from the deep wound, and you cringe, grabbing one of the towels from your pack to gently wipe away some of the blood, but the tear in flesh is so deep, it’s impossible to do with just one towel. **dark content warnings ENDS**

“My estate is just a short ride from here. I cannot hold your weight myself, but if you can mount my horse, I will take you back and mend your wounds to the best of my ability.”

The mask nods softly, slowly but surely lifting himself up off the ground, wobbling towards your horse, who snorts nervously. He seemingly understands the severity of the situation, though, and stands still as the knight sits himself on his back.

From there, he lays back, breath catching in his throat as his injuries are tweaked with each of the horses’ strides. You hold onto the reins, leading your stallion back to the house.

After quite a bit of maneuvering and a lot of quarreling with the injured knight, you finally manage to set him up the cot in your spare bedroom. He sits down on the chair as you do so, mumbling and grumbling about his pain. You found it quite annoying, really, but you can’t really blame him for acting in such a way.

“You’ll need to remove your armor, sir. I cannot treat your wounds with it on.”

“By God’s bones.” He curses under his breath in annoyance, but stands and removes his body armor nonetheless.

Piece by piece is peeled from his body, his physically intimidating figure revealed slowly to your curious eyes. Only his under-layers were left, soon enough, and you found it a bit odd that he hadn’t taken his helmet off first. You would think that would be a great relief to have the proper air exposure on your face, but you’re not really in a place to make assumptions about that sort of thing.

His brilliantly alabaster skin is severely bloodied, bruised, and badly butchered. He would require quite some time to heal and recover, but if you learned anything from being married to an army man, it’s that they’re all stubborn bastards who never take the proper time to allow time for their bodies to properly heal.

He’s soon fully exposed to you, minus his helmet and threadbare loincloth, and you have to look away quickly as your cheeks heat up. The small garment left very little to the imagination, and this knight was...well endowed, to put it kindly.

Putting your own personal feelings aside for the betterment of the patient, you look back up at him with a small smile. “You may remove your helmet now, good sir.”

“I cannot reach up to grab it from my head.” He says in a flat, unamused voice.

“Of course.” You scold yourself for not thinking of that. “Well, if you lay down on the cot, I shall remove it for you.”

Instead of protest, which is what you expected, he complied with your instructions and laid down on the cot. He grunts satisfyingly at the comfort of a mattress, most likely used to sleeping on the ground.

When you reach for the bottoms of his helmet to pull it off, he suddenly snatches your wrist, stopping you instantly.

“If you need touch me, ask before doing so.” His voice is nothing more than a growl.

You almost roll your eyes, starting to truly become annoyed with this knight. You invited him into your home and you’re willing to be his bedside nurse...and he has the audacity to request something like this.

Again you’re forced to put your personal feelings aside for the sake of your patient and for the maintenance of your bedside manner, forcing a smile onto your face. “With all due respect, sir, I’m your nurse for the time being. I will be needing to touch you quite often. Am I really expected to ask each and every time?”

“Yes.” He replies.

Your jaw clenches and you wish nothing more in this moment than to smack this man right across the face.

“Fine. May I please remove your helmet?”

Sparing you the assurance of a vocal reply, the mask simply nods, and you pull it over his head. When the face of your patient is revealed to your eyes, you’re appalled.

It’s Sir Kylo Ren...the man that murdered your husband.

You drop the helmet onto the ground, metal clattering as it rocks back and forth once it’s settled in one spot on the hardwood. This can’t be real.

He snarls. “Why are you looking upon me with that expression? Have you never seen a man before? I have wounds that need tended to, girl, and I’d like to be out of here before sundown.”

Anger begins to boil your blood, tears burning in your eyes as you look down at the man before you.

“You bastard.” Your hand raises, ready to strike him clean against the cheek. He catches your fist in his hand before you can, though.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Kylo warns, squeezing your fist. “I’ll have to have you beheaded for hitting an army man, and your head is much too pretty to be put to such waste.”

You snort, yanking yourself from his grip, teeth gritting as you walk out to fetch all the medical supplies. He’s wearing a cocky expression when you walk back in.

“I recognize you.” He says.

You huff, unamused. “How could you possibly recognize me? We’ve never met.”

His lips curl up into a devious smirk. “You’re right, we haven’t met before, but I recognize you from your husband’s description. I asked him what you looked like, since he was babbling on and on about you.”

You freeze up, bottom lip beginning to quiver as Sir Kylo continues.

“Then I drove my blade straight through his pathetic chest, and later that night, I touched myself as I thought of you.”

He chuckles deviously.

“Bedswerver!” You yell, cocking your fists once more and lunging at him, ready to strike once more. But then, you stop yourself, knowing the consequences you’d surely face should you actually hit him.

Your fists lower and you simply say nothing, preparing the cloths in the warm water. The tears run down your cheeks on their own volition, but you quickly wipe them away before turning back towards him.

“He wasn’t worthy of your company, Y/N.” Kylo says as you begin to clean the wounds on his stomach. “And he clearly didn’t satisfy you in the way you needed, considering the manner in which you looked over my body when I took my armor off.”

His hand reaches around and squeezes your ass, making you jump.

“How long has it been, little lamb? A young woman like you shouldn’t have to live without a man to satisfy her aching need.”

You can’t pretend that you’re not aroused by his words, by his touch. But you’d never let him have you, not in a thousand years. So, you quickly swat his hand away and continue cleaning his wounds. “That’s none of your concern, Sir Kylo. I am perfectly content without a man and that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

He laughs. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. I bet you’re aching right now, just from my words and my simple touch.”

Before he can touch you further, you back away, limbs trembling with anger and frustration. You dunk the bloody rag back into the bowl of water, ring it out a bit, then throw it onto his chest.

“Clean the wounds yourself, since you can obviously move your hands and arms perfectly fine.” You say, wiping your own on a dry cloth. “I’ll be back to bandage you in a bit.”

“Don’t think of me too much, lamb. You’ll release too quickly.” He snickers as you slam the door shut behind you, bursting into tears the moment you step foot into your bedroom.

You sob quietly, the freshly-healed stitches of your heart popping open one at a time, the grief and pain of losing your beloved consuming you once more.

And now you’re here, mending his killer.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes everything you have, every ounce of willpower, to wake up and face Sir Kylo every single day. You know you’re doing the right thing by helping him, but that doesn’t make dealing with him any easier.

He’s impossibly stubborn, arrogant beyond comprehension, and increasingly grumpy. But, you just have to keep going, keep pushing through, reminding yourself that each day brings you closer and closer to his inevitable departure.

You’ve all but blocked out his inappropriate and antagonizing comments or remarks, just getting his bandages replaced and then leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Today, though, he’s achieved a new level of jackassery, a thing you thought impossible until he did it. And boy, did he do it.

“I’ve made arrangements for a few whores to come and provide me some...company.”

Your fist tightens around the bandage in your hand. He smirks.

“You’re more than welcome to join us. There’s plenty of me to go around, little lamb. You’ll get your turn.”

“No, thanks. I think I’d rather stab myself with a sword.” You reply, beginning to switch out his bandages. “You’re lucky I’m even allowing it to occur in my house.”

He just chuckles. “You’d probably be bad, anyway.”

You suddenly rip the bandage off of his skin, causing him to cry out in pain. He looks at you, and you glare down at him. “Just...can you please just stop talking for once in your life? Must you always berate me when all I’ve done over the past few weeks is take care of you? Is this what kindness, genuine kindness, gets me?”

He suddenly seems to sober up, to let what he’s done to you sink in. It doesn’t last long, but you still see it. Perhaps he does have the capability to feel at least some sense of remorse.

Kylo stays quiet for the rest of the time you tend to his wounds, and when you turn to leave, the two words you’ve been convinced are not in his vocabulary, come from the behind you.

“Thank you.”

This sliver of empathy is short lived, especially after the girls from the local brothel make their way up to his room.

“Oh! Oh! Sir Kylo!”

You shake your head, attempting to read in the study, which is located on the other side of house from the guest bedroom. Yet, their screams, cries and the various other lewd noises still manage to make their way to your ears.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” “Take it, whore, take it!” “Kyloooooooo!”

The temptation to go up there and kick the girls out is increasing by the second, but you don’t. Maybe this will help mellow him out a bit, make him more manageable. Plus, you’re pretty sure that you’d have to carve your eyes out after walking in on whatever they’re doing up behind that closed door.

Unfortunately for you, it becomes progressively more difficult to focus on your book as the burn between your thighs intensifies. It’s been almost two years since your husband was murdered, which means that it’s been a little over that since you were last intimate with someone.

Normally, and up until Sir Kylo entered your household, you were more than fine subduing your sexual desires. You haven’t once touched yourself, not that you’d really know how to anyway, and you certainly weren’t about to start now.

You cross your legs, hoping that’ll quell some of the burning, but it only makes it worse. Another half an hour passes and your hand now rests on your thigh, slowly inching down towards your soaked and quivering pussy.

Just a quick touch won’t hurt...he doesn’t have to know...

Luckily, a knock at the door brings your motions to a stop. You sigh in relief, walking over to open the door. When you do, you’re met with a bandaged bare torso, a very muscular bare torso. His skin glistens with sweat and the smell of sex radiates from his essence.

He’s still breathing heavily as he stands in the doorway, looking down at you.

“We’re finished upstairs.” He says breathily. “I’m due for my afternoon bandage change, whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him saunter away, admiring the way his muscles stretch and tense with each stride. You’re burning up by now, both your skin and your arousal, and you wonder how you’re going to get through this next bandage change.

When you enter the room, the musk of sex is thick in the air, humidity at a suffocating level. You try to ignore it, try not to let it get to you, but it’s just surrounding you.

Your skin begins to glisten, brow furrowed as you focus on trying to change these bandages as quickly as possible. Kylo seems to take notice of your hurry, your sudden perspiring.

“Is something wrong?” He asks you, biting back a smirk. “You seem flustered.”

Nodding, you continue on with the bandaging. “I’m fine, just a bit warm is all.”

Kylo hums, reaching down to grab your wrist as you reach up to re-bandage the wound on his chest. He brings your fingers up to his lips, sucking the tips into his mouth gently, tongue swiping over the pads of your digits.

You try to pull away, to leave before you do something you regret, but his hold on you is firm. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t actually want him to stop.

Oh lord, this is bad. It’s so wrong. You shouldn’t want this. He murdered your husband, the man you loved. He’s so smug and cocky and yet...it’s what you’ve been wanting this whole time, the thing you’ve tried to suppress, to not let yourself want.

But now, everything else be damned, you want this. You need this. And damnit, you’re gonna have it.

His lips release your fingertips with a lewd pop! sound, an arrogant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You haven’t tried to pull away or tell me off in a minute or two. Is everything alright?”

You huff. “Just do it.”

He raises his eyebrows, sitting up a little. “Do what? What do you want me to do, little lamb?”

“You know what I want.”

“Oh yes, I’m fully aware of what you want.” He smirks. “But I want to hear you say it out loud.”

You cross your arms on your chest, trying to ignore the twang of guilt that shoots through you as you prepare to say the words aloud.

“Fine. I want you to f-fuck me.”

“That’s right. I knew you wanted it.” Kylo takes your hand and trails it down his muscular abdomen, stopping just above where his loincloth sits on his hips.

“Take it off.”

You’re chewing your lip numb as you reach down and undo the tie holding the garment on. Your breath hitches as you slide it off, exposing his member, which is hardening steadily.

“Instead of staring, perhaps you’d like to try touching it?” He smirks.

You shoot him a glare. “Stop talking, for once in your life, please spare my ears the sound of your constant squabble.”

Kylo chuckles, putting his hands behind his head.

Your hand wraps around the base of his length, and he grunts softly. It’s your turn to wear a smirk.

“Oh, do you like that, Sir Kylo?”

He huffs. “Every man likes their cock being touched. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

You squeeze his shaft, drawing a deep grunt from his lips and small buck of his hips. He looks away, jaw clenched in an attempt to prevent any further noises.

This fact only makes you more determined, hand pumping his cock with more vigor, alternating between different paces and pressures to really drive him crazy.

You’re thoroughly enjoying this, drinking in the sight of him trying his absolute hardest not to react to the touches that so obviously arouse him. You tease him even more, using your fingers to touch certain parts of his length.

Well, it’s fun for the few minutes it lasts, but suddenly, you find yourself in his position, laid back on the cot. He’s on top of you, now, pushing the skirts of your dress up, fingers yanking the laces on your bodice.

He quickly pulls it off, followed by your skirts, leaving you in only your mamillare and your loincloth. His eyes roam your newly exposed skin for a moment before his hand slips down between your thighs, fingers pressing up against the fabric.

“I knew it. Were you listening, little lamb? Were you listening to me fuck those whores and wishing it was you?”

Your breath hitches. “Well, it was sort of hard not to listen when the girls were screaming.”

His fingers wrap around the waist tie, pulling them down to fully expose your wet heat. He smirks, rubbing around until he finds that one spot that has your back arching and a gasp escaping your lips.

Before he can even say anything, you reiterate his words in a mocking tone. “Every woman likes being touched there. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

He huffs, rubbing you harder.

“Tell me how wet you got when you heard me fucking those whores. Tell me that you wanted a turn on my cock, wondered how good I’d feel inside you.”

“N-No.” You say, a stern expression on your face. “I’ll never say that to you.”

His jaw clenches as he bends down, lips next to your ear. “You'll be screaming it once I’m done with you.”

Your eyes widen when his fingers slowly press up into your entrance.

“Kylo...” You’ve never been touched in this way before. It’s...different, and not necessarily unpleasant.

He sees your hesitation. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

And you did.

His digits begin moving in and out of you, curling up occasionally to stimulate a certain tender spot inside you. You’re biting down on your lip, surely hard enough to break the skin, trying your darndest not to give him the privilege of hearing your noises.

As you did to him, seeing you suppress your noises only spurs him on more, movements becoming quicker, swifter. Your orgasm draws closer with each skilled stroke, but just before you reach your peak, he pulls out.

You thought you wanted to hit him before; now, you kind of want to pop some of his abdomen stitches.

“Why did you do that?”

He laughs devilishly, reaching down to pump his cock, slicking it with the juices of your arousal. “You didn’t think I’d actually let you get off that easily, did you?”

“Well, I was sort of hoping...”

You’re brought to silence when he crawls on top of you, trapping you beneath his massive form. His mushroom head swirls around your entrance, collecting some of your slick before pressing it inside of you.

It’s been quite a while since you’ve had anyone, and you don’t think you’ve ever had someone of his size before, so you gasp softly as he presses forth. Soon, his entire length is seated in you, stretching and filling you to the brim.

His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he tries to remain still in order to allow you an adjustment period. Once you’ve had some time, he begins moving his hips, rolling them at a steady pace.

“Knew you’d have a nice little cunt,” He growls, teeth baring. “So wet and tight for me, little lamb.”

You bite your numbing lip in an attempt to prevent any of the desperate moans or cries that want to escape. He’s doing something similar, jaw clenched tightly.

Only the wet squelch and sharp snapping of skin colliding can be heard between the two of you, minus the occasional grunt or sharp inhale from either of you, which is quickly shut down almost as soon as it slips out.

Soon, you feel your climax begin to appear on the horizon, walls clenching and pulsing around his cock. He takes notice, quickly speeding his rhythm up, exhaling loudly through his flared nostrils.

He’s getting close, too, balls pulling up as his body prepares itself for orgasm. The energy between you two, as well as your physical movements, quickly turn desperate.

“Don’t release inside me.”

“I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to.” He says, smugly.

You huff, rolling your eyes. “I see that even the throws of passion and ecstasy is still not enough to tamper your unbearable attitude.”

“There is nothing that can stop me from taking the opportunity to get a rise out of you, milady.” He smirks before his brows knit in the center of his forehead. “If you’re gonna cum, I suggest you do it s-soon.”

Your eyes flutter shut, hips attempting to lift up off the mattress, wanting him to hit that certain spot inside you. As soon as you find the right angle, a choked sob leaves your lips as you’re quickly brought and tossed over the edge.

Kylo groans softly, thrusting rapidly before pulling out at the last minute, spilling his seed all over your abdomen.

Both of you are breathless as you ride out your climaxes, basking in the peaceful bliss that washes over your body, basking in the luxury of his utter and complete silence. It was a welcome change, a much-needed reprieve from the past few weeks of dealing with him.

He eventually flops down onto the mattress beside you, grabbing and re-securing his loincloth around his hips. You’re already a bit sore from being stretched for the first time in two years.

“May I just sleep here tonight, Sir Kylo? Unless you’d like to carry me back over to my bedroom.”

The side-eye he gives you is incredibly humorous, but you contain your laughter, not wanting to add oil to the flame.

“I won’t be a bother. I will stay on this side of the cot; you’ll barely even know I’m here.”

“Are you truly incapable of walking yourself back to your bedroom after one session of fucking? Was I really that amazing that I’ve left you unable to move about the house?” He laughs.

"And suddenly, the pain of walking over to my room seems less painful than staying here and listening to your vexing squabble.”

Kylo huffs. “If you stay here for the night, you may not breach the center of the mattress. I will kick you out if you even come close to bumping into me or making any sort of physical contact.”

Mocking his words from earlier, you smirk. “I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to touch you.”

“Very funny.” He says, flatly, rolling over to face away from you. “Just stay on your fucking side of the bed.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up to braid your hair for bed before fluffing the goose-feather pillow beneath your head, settling down for the night. Soon, Sir Kylo’s obnoxious snores bounce off the walls and you put your pillow over your head, hoping to muffle the noise.

God, even his snores are arrogant.

The next morning, when your eyes flutter open at the first sign of light through the window, you find the sheets next to you vacant.

You sit up, eyebrows furrowed as you look around the room, ears open to listen for any noise anywhere in the house. You don’t hear anything.

Then, you see a piece of rolled up parchment on his pillow along with a small satchel. When you open the pouch, you’re shocked to see a pile of shiny coins. You unrolled the note, reading the sloppy script.

For the medical supplies and for your trouble. Here’s hoping our paths never cross again.

-Kylo

As you read the very brief and to-the-point note, you can practically hear his snide voice in your head reciting it. The cold, cocky tone of his words shone through the parchment and ink, incredibly so. You huff, tossing the note back onto the pillow before getting up to begin the day.

Well...at least you’ll never have to see him again.

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ray-ray-writings · 3 years

Text

Butchered Plans-Technoblade

#113 from this prompt list. Check out my masterlist here!

This is a Technoblade x GN reader!

This will not really follow what actually happened in the dreamsmp roleplay but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Y/N finds out about the Butcher Army and attempts to put a stop to their plan.

Y/N’s POV

L’Manberg was quiet today… Too quiet. I hadn’t seen Tubbo, Fundy, Quackity, Ranboo, Ghostbur or Philza around all day. Ever since Tommy’s exile I was sure that I spoke to each of them at least once a day for 15 minutes or longer. Tommy was ripped away from me, from L’Manberg and I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to the boy that had become my brother. I had no idea the debate that raged on between the boys and Dream and by the time I was clued in it was too late. He was gone.

I sighed as I strolled down Prime Path, heading toward the new L’Manberg. I kept my eyes peeled, looking for a sign of any movement. Any life. Anyone. Suddenly, a tall tower I had never seen before was in the center of the square caught my eye. “What the-” I muttered, jogging toward it. As I got closer, I began to hear voices. I caught a glimpse of Carl tied to a post and I broke in a full sprint.

Well I found the boys I had been looking for all day. Tubbo, Fundy, Quackity, and Ranboo stood on the outer edges of the stage dressed in bloody aprons. Philza stood outside his front door, watching what was happening. Ghostbur stood off to the side of the stage with a blue sheep. There was one more person that was standing on the stage. Technoblade.

Technoblade and I have had an interesting relationship ever since he joined the server. I had been really good friends with his brothers and when they were banished from L’Manberg, it broke my heart. I spent a lot of time giving them supplies and intel about the things that were happening under Schlatt’s control. Wherever I would visit them, Techno would always throw flirty remarks my way, leaving me flustered. One time I decided to throw one back at his, causing him to blush like crazy. The next time I went over, Techno asked me on a date. I accepted, of course and ever since then the two of us had been a couple.

I stood by him through a lot of important events. I helped raise Carl. I helped him farm wither skulls. I had been there with him when he spawned the withers and blew up L’Manberg. He and I spent many days looking for a place to build his “retirement” home and then many days then building said house. We spent a lot of time together and I really did love him.

“What the hell is going on here?!” I demanded as I stomped on the stage. All eyes snapped to me as I stood there, fuming on the stage. “Y/N” Tubbo began nervously, “You shouldn’t be here. Quackity, I thought you took care of them!” he hissed to his partner in crime. Quackity rubbed the back of his neck, “Oops. I guess I forgot.” I crossed my arms across my chest and glowered at the four boys. “That doesn’t answer my question of what is going on here.” I hissed out. Tubbo cleared his throat and nervously looked to his feet. “An execution…” He whispered. I was silent as I soaked up Tubbo’s words. “We made a list. A list of people that threaten the peace of L’Manberg. Techno is on that list and then to make sure we have that peace, he must die.” Tubbo finished.

I stared at him with an eyebrow raised. “Really? You think that this is going to solve your problems?” I questioned, “You know he has all of his cannon lives. If he dies, when he comes back you’re going to have to pay full price for what you did to him… You really think this is a smart play.” Tubbo gave me a half shrug while the other three stared at each other. “He had to pay for what he’s done,” Fundy spoke up. I let out a laugh and shook my head, “He did exactly what he told you he was going to do. You knew how much he hates governments and yet you literally formed one in front of him… If anything it’s your own fault.” I informed them with a shrug.

I brushed past Tubbo and made my way to the cage that sat in the middle of the stage, the two right next to it. “Hey there.” I greeted my partner with a smile. Techno mirrored my smile as he gave me a small wave, “Fancy seeing you here. Whatcha doing?” I asked, swinging my bag off my shoulder, looking for my pickaxe. “Oh, you know… Being executed.” He claimed nonchalantly. I giggled at his casualness as I brought my pick out of my bag. I was about to swing my pick to break the iron lock that kept my boyfriend contained in a one by one block, but a hand landed on my shoulder stopping my motions.

“Y/N! You can’t do this! We, the Butcher Army, have made a decision! He must die!” Tubbo whined. I rolled my eyes and pushed his hand off of my shoulder, “I know that you have reached a decision, but given that it is a stupid ass decision I have elected to ignore it” I announced turning back to the cage that housed my boyfriend. I brought my pick up and swung at the iron lock, instantly breaking it causing the cell door to swing open. “NOOOOOO!” The four boys screeched. They rushed forward, trying with all their might to push the pink haired man back into the cage, but the two of us were too strong for him.

The two of us easily pushed the four boys off of us and to the ground. They stayed down, a bit dazed allowing us to make our escape. I grabbed my boyfriend’s hand and ran toward where I saw Carl tied up. With ease, Techno hoisted himself up onto his cherished horse as I untied the prized horse from the post. I handed Techno the reigns before jumping on the animal myself. “Stop! Prisoner!” I heard the voices shout from behind us. “Let’s go Carl!” Techno shouted, giving the animal a swift kick sparking the horse into action. Carl whinnied and began galloping at full speed down the prime path. “NOOOOOOO!” the four voices screamed, fading out of earshot as we rode off toward Techno’s retirement home.

I let out a breath of relief as Techno’s home appeared in my field of view. Carl came to a stop right outside the front door. Techno quickly hopped off of his pet and tied him to his post. Techno then reached up and helped me off of the animal. The two of us locked eyes as we stood there. I let out a giggle at what had just happened. My laughter caused Techno to laugh as well. “I cannot believe you did that” He admitted, wrapping his arms around my waist, leaning his forehead on my own. I let out a content sigh, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’d do anything for you,” I admitted. His brown eyes stared into my own lovingly. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you,” He mumbled, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto my lips. I let out a giggle, immediately kissing back. “Well I know one way.” I mumbled against his lips.

Techno pulled back slightly and raised his eyebrow. “And that is?” “Well considering I just betrayed the L’Manberg president, I don’t think I’ll be welcome in their land anytime soon… So you could let me crash here for a while.” Techno let out a chuckle and pecked my lips once more. “Of course,” He hummed, “You’re always welcome here.” I gave my boyfriend a soft smile at his response. “Thank you” “Anytime.”

We stood there for a few minutes before a shiver ran down my spine. “I’m cold” I claimed with a pout on my lips. Techno let out a laugh and rolled his eyes, “Of course you are. Come on, I’ll make you something hot to drink.” Techno let go of my waist and turned toward the front door. “You’re the best” I hummed, reaching forward and intertwining our fingers. Techno brought our hands up to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on the back of my hand. “I know… You’re pretty okay too.” He teased, opening the door. I let out a gasp in mock offense, “Excuse you?!” I exclaimed as the two of us made our way to the kitchen, “I literally just saved you from the Butcher Army and this is how you repay me?” Techno led me to a seat and sat me down before turning to the stove and began making my drink, “In that case. I guess you’re pretty cool too… Ya know… For butchering their plans….”

There was a silence in the kitchen before laughter came bubbling out of my mouth. “I can’t believe you just made that pun!” I laughed, holding my stomach. Techno threw a smile over his shoulder as he worked. “I figured you would like it.” The laughter slowly died down as I took deep breaths to calm myself. Techno set my favorite mug down in front of me before sitting down beside me. His arm wrapped around my shoulder and a kiss was placed upon my temple. I smiled as I brought my own mug to my lips and took a sip. I let out a content sigh as I rested my head on my boyfriend’s shoulder. “I could get used to this,” I admitted, turning slightly to look at my love. Techno gave me a gentle smile, leaning down, and pressing a kiss on the top of my head before pulling me closer to him. “So could I”

There you go! I hope you enjoyed!! If so, please be sure to leave a like! Maybe even a reply or a reblog telling me what you liked about it!! Until next time!

474 notes · View notes

yn-x-animeboy · 3 years

Text

Jungkook x y/n (as a famous artist) Pt. 1

request: mine, my brain made me write this

pairing: reader x Jungkook

genre: fluff, romance, for entertainment purposes

BTS x Fem Reader

sinopsis: You are a popular artist in America, pretty famous, loved and well-known by the general public (actually you were one of the top 10 artists in the world but you are pretty humble and naïve to realize your popularity), one day during one of your fan meets you talk about how much you love BTS, and not only how you wish to meet them and work with them but how Jungkook is one of your celebrity crushes. During the meet you fangirled with other ARMYs in the crowd; video clips of you fangirling and talking about BTS at your meet where posted and reposted all over social media. This obviously broke the internet because you were not only a famous singer but you also were always accepted and loved by ARMY and this made a lot of people happy. Suddenly it felt like everyone wanted you to meet the seven handsome and talented idols and collaborate, but you could only wish, you believed they didn't even know who you were...or so you thought.

Pt. 1- Introduction. Your fan meet

Basically every couple of months you like to organize small get-togethers with your supporters as a way to have a closer contact with them, to get to know them, as a fanservice and to just thank them in a way. Lately you have been noticing one specific group of fan pages dedicated to you who have been really interactive and supportive on twitter;

promoting your latest music video and the recent EPISODE of: y/n’s camera roll uploaded to your oficial platforms (your team uploaded a weekly video=episode to your channel; almost like Run BTS. Each episode had a different theme and your fans loved it) this group of fan pages is constantly on your main page, so you decided to contact them and fly them out for a day in L.A. for one of your infamous meets so you could meet them.

You don't normally film your fan meetings, they are normally just a one on one gatherings between you and your fans, but your team thought it could be a good idea to record today’s meet and upload parts of it for your weekly EPISODE, these were greatly appreciated by your international fans and other fans who wanted to see a little more into your personal life.

You were currently hanging out with the small group of fans you invited over. A group of around 10 boys and girls were currently sitting on the fluffy carpeted floor and some were sitting on plush chairs randomly spread in front of you. (a/n i imagine this setting like the Zach Sang Show, for the Ariana Grande interview episodes)

You were sitting in front of them on a small white couch for two. Once everyone was comfortably settled in, you introduced yourself and invited the others to do so as well, one by one telling you their name, username, pronouns, age, and fun facts about them. You smiled wide, happy to be able to meet such amazing people and also making mental notes to remember their names and facts.

After the personal introductions your camera crew was set up and ready to start, you told your fans sitting in front of you about how today's meet was going to be recorded and asked for their consent to upload said video; and then proceed to open for the camera;

“Hello everyone welcome to another episode of…. f** I don't even know what we call these videos, jajajaja”

Your fans sitting in front of you stated the name of the youtube series in a heartbeat;

“Wait what?... jajajajaja omg guys thank you, I'm so sorry, yeah you heard them, welcome back to y/n’s camera roll, I can’t believe I forgot that, anyway today’s episode is a little different……” you proceed to explain what the episode was about and thanking the future viewers for tuning in and watching the video. “Waw what a long introduction, so, before we actually go on and have the meet while you guys at home enjoy, I want to introduce you to the lovely group of people who I have invited here today….” Again proceed to introduce your fans to the camera by name, trying to not miss anyone and not butcher any name in the process.

After the introduction is done you porcede to carry out the fan meet like you normally do, you normally have scheduled sections of activities during your meets to make them fun; For today’s meet you all played games and did a couple challenges with your fans; then you recorded a couple of tik toks and instagram stories your fans asked you to be in, and casually all hung out. After a while of comfortable chatting and laughter, you wanted to hype up the mood. You turned down the lights, turned on some color LED lights and had a dance party with everyone invited, dancing and going all out to popular music.

After being all drained from the heavy physical activities, you ordered a variety of food for your fans, like pizza and pasta, sushi, tacos, snacks, etc. and had a muckbang/eating section for the episode as well.

You were having so much fun, you looked around while eating and just by looking at their excited and happy faces you couldn help but feel complete and thankful for all of your fans.

After filling up on food, you carried out the Q&A section of the meet, allowing fans to ask you personal questions and conversing on various topics. The camera director gave you instructions to proceed with the questions, you nodded and thanked him and the staff for their hard work, turning on your heel and sitting back in your spot you tuned to the main camera: “Hi, quick update, sorry I haven't been so interactive with the camera in this episode for everyone watching at home, but I have been having so much fun and I am not used to having a camera crew for my normal fan meets, I’m sorry. Anyway now we will move on, I am going to answer some questions and hopefully this is entertaining enough for the EPISODE hahaha” the crew and fans present chucked as you finished the small interruption.

And the questions began. A girl sitting in the back, raised her hand and spoke; “yeah um, I’m sorry I wanted to see if I could start the questions, idk if the others are okay with that”. The rest of the group nodded sweetly at her, others replied with short “yeah’s”. She then proceeded nervously “thankyou g-guys, um I’m sorry before my question, is there anything we cannot ask you or..?

You sweetly smiled at her shyness and consideration, you tried your best to make her comfortable, “You are so cute, hahaha, thankyou for being considerate, but I really can’t think of anything that I am not allowed to answer or talk about, let me ask my manager...do I Sam?” you shifted your upper body to the side where the crew was standing, your manager Sam shook his head, you don't really have any tea to be spilled anyway so he is pretty confident and comfortable allowing you to be 100% in control.

“Okay if Sam says it’s cool, it's okay jajaja. You can ask me anything”

The girl then proceeded to ask her question, and waited for you to answer.

Time went by, and it was pretty cool to see what your fans were interested in learning about you, after some time the group continued asking you questions like “who is your biggest inspiration? favorite song?, favorite thing about being on tour? what would you do if you weren't a singer? etc.

One of the boys in the group spoke; “Hi, y/n, can I ask you another question?” you nodded and signaled him to proceed;

“I saw that you liked an instagram post about BTS a while back uploaded by a fan account and I also saw that you actually follow their personal twitter account. ALSO in your behind the scenes video for your music video shoot you can be seen in the background dancing the Boy with luv choreo. So I wanted to ask if you were an ARMY and if you know them personally? and like should we be expecting a collaboration soon?”

You chucked at his talking speed, curious questions and great detective skills.

Before you answered you mentally told yourself to hold back and not go all cRAzY fAnGirL on them, you inhaled and answered:

“OMG hahaha I love you so much, what an amazing question, Okay so first off no I don’t know them personally and sadly no plans of collaboration are on sight. Oh wow I have never been asked if I liked BTS before, I’m excited hahaha. Yeah I am an ARMY, I love them so much I am one of their biggest fans, and they are also one of my biggest inspirations when it comes to work ethic and professionalism, listening to them or watching them gives me motivation to keep doing what I love, which is this.

anyway I am rambling I should stop; you guys can say y/n stop whenever I start rambling okay? hahaha''

The group in front of you laughed and added some extra comments on your response.

After a couple comments back and forth you realized something… and asked out loud,

“Wait so, how many of you guys here are actually ARMYs?”,

all of the sudden the 10 fans sitting in front of you raised their hands.

“So you guys are telling me literally everyone of you is a fellow ARMY and didn't tell me until now?” everyone chuckled and looked around surprises at the coincidence

You were already feeling shy after talking so much about yourself before so you redirected the activity, “Guys should we actually talk about BTS for a bit? hahaha” you asked your fans

This made a girl raise her hand and ask: “Can I ask you a BTS question then? Okay so, who is your favorite member?

You loved the new conversation topic. You answered truthfully: “Well first off, I don't have a favorite member. I really mean it when I say this. I love them all equally and I love them all as a group. I don’t prefer one over the other or like one better. I really do support them equally. I mean there is nothing wrong with having a bias, as long as you also respect the other members, hope that all made sense lol” Everyone seemed moved by your support towards them and nodded.

“Y/n so you don’t have a favorite, but do you have a crush on any of them?, like if you could date one of them right now, which one do you pick?” A fan asked.

You looked at her and really thought about how to answer said question in the best way possible; “okay...well...Like I said just to be clear I don't have favorites amongst the group members, but I do have a type…. I consider one of them to be my celebrity crush” you answered, starting out slow and finishing by blurting out the last part.

Your fans in front of you went crazy, they leaned over their seats wanting to feel closer to you and not miss anything you were saying as you took a breath to continue speaking.

“So in that case, if I had to pick someone that I would date in real life...i would say…. Jungkook'' The room was filled with surprised remarks, small comments and squeals.

“Omg guys chill hahaha, breathe, it's just a crush I don’t know him and it's not going to happen. It's just that I find him really attractive and he is my type.”

The fans kept raising their hands to ask you various questions about BTS,

the camera director and manager signaled you to get your attention after you finished answering other questions and told you you only had time for one more question before the fan meet was over.

“Okay guys so apparently we have time for one more question, so make it a good one, it can be about anything, shoot” you said as you leaned over to reach for your water bottle, swung the bottle and pointed to someone on the corner of your eye who seemed to have one last question, as you drank some water they asked: “I have a last BTS question if you don’t mind y/n”

Still gulping water you moved your hand indicating them that is was okay and to go on,

“okay, um I just thought about this, do you have like a specific fantasy or make up scenario about BTS that you could only dream could come true; like I wish i could walk into a café shop and suddenly meet V, realizing we were reading the same book and covering for hours”

That was such a deep and personal question, you had never once thought anyone would be interested in what your fantasies where; you thought it might be boring for your fans if you went on and on about stupid make believe scenarios that live in your head rent free. But seeing everyones approving faces over the question and the intrigued eyes they were shooting at you, you spoke: “I love that question, and your scenario is so cute, you should write a tumblr post about it, (a/n wink wink) well yeah I obviously have created fake scenarios in my head about BTS, past crushes, fake arguments even hahaha, there are so many BTS fake scenarios in my head…. hmm oh I know which one, okay so this fantasy of mine is about how I would meet them irl and work with them, I will make it quick”

You kinda chuckled at yourself, playing with the cap on your water bottle, you felt as if you were about to say something really cringy and embarrassing. You took a deep breath and started the narration of the sinopsis of your personal fanfic created by you.

“Okay so, my literal fantasy is to one day meet them at a talk show, you know how hosts like will surprise their guests with something/someone they like?, I believe Ellen has done it multiple times where she surprised a guest with their idol or celebrity crush, you know?” The group nodded, invested in your fake scenario “Well i would be invited to like the Jimmy Fallon Show, where he would just randomly surprise me with BTS. Then I would be given the opportunity to introduce myself and tell them how much I love and support them. I would also be able to show them my Korean speaking skills, I learned Korean and Spanish back in school and I have never been able to actually use either them, lol, anyway...well after that we would all become really good friends, and we would collaborate and put out one or multiple songs for you guys. I mean that's basically it, I wish I could meet them, and become their friend and write songs with them, even produce songs with Suga or RM if I could'' you sighed as you ended your mini narration.

You continued; “But well, that's just a fake scenario I repeat, it's not real and it's not gonna happen, EVER. For now I will keep supporting and loving them with you and the rest of ARMY. I really doubt they even know who I am, anyway” you closed the conversation at that. Your fans seemed like they wanted to say something but your camera director called you over before anyone could say something else. You excuse yourself and walk over to the cameras and lights set up where the staff is.

*your fans were really confused, and this you didn't know, but your fans knew for a fact that BTS knew very well who you were. The fans even knew which member has continuously admitted to having a platonic crush on you for years now, ever since you first blew up, back when you were 16 and he was 17. Your fans knew how you are one of BTS’s favorite artists, and this was no secret, you could literally look all this information up...

They didn’t understand how you could have no idea how famous you actually are* They talked amongst themselves about this while you talked to your team.

Your manager and camera director indicated you to do an outro for the video’s footage and other instructions. You nodded your head and smiled, you took a step back and bowed your head towards the staff behind the cameras and thanked them for their work.

You then walked towards the group of fans and told them you had to do an outro for the camera if that was okay with them; you then sat with them on the floor while side hugging the two fans next to you, you directed yourself to the camera: “Okay guys so sadly today’s meet is now over, I am really sad I wish we could hang out for longer, thank you so much for coming and making today so fun and special” you then turned to the camera “And for my other amazing supporters who are going to watch this on youtube, today was just a little scoop into my life like the other y/n’s camera roll EPISODES, in case you are interested in other videos like this one you can visit head to the channel where this video was uploaded and watch more! hopefully you guys had fun with us! I adore you all, thank you! Please Spread love always, y/n out” you waved as the camera director said “CUT” and the crew cut the cameras.

Your manager then stood up and directed everyone to get ready to leave, also thanking them for always supporting you and taking care of you, you smiled at your amazing manager and looked back at your fans while they picked up their stuff, smiling sadly.

You said your goodbye to everyone one-by-one as they headed out.

After lots of farewell hugs, kisses, selfies, and gifts, you went home with a smile on your face for the amazing time you had.

You went to bed, turned your phone on silent mode and looked at your ceiling, reliving that fake scenario you talked about a few hours ago, oh how you wished it could become real (a/n hehe wink wink). Finally dozing off and resting for the work-packed day you had tomorrow unaware that your social media was currently going crazy and how they yearned for your new weekly EPISODE to come out.

Part 2- Jungkook’s POV --------> here

thank you so much, please interact with me to let me know if you like this :) Xx

#bts x reader #bts #bts x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook #jeon jungguk #kookie #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine

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proudfreakmetarusonniku · 3 years

Text

i read through the c!dream apologist manifesto

First of all, absolutely 0 hate to the author of this!!! I just like writing about c!Dream and thought this would be an interesting challenge. Secondly, this is pretty long, so it’s under a read more. TL;DR: tommy did nothing wrong, genuinely, he’s just a completely normal child and if dream took that personally that’s his own fucking fault

First, is the argument Dream was dethroning George in an effort to help him. I haven’t watched George's stream, so I cannot confirm or deny it, but either way it’s no fault of George for feeling upset and betrayed and used for that, especially considering the Spirit speech later.

Next is stating that Tommy has been manipulated into believing he’s an “unrealised hero”, which is- I’m sorry. No. Tommy has been forced into the hero role again and again by those around him, but he’s explicitly said he doesn’t see himself as the hero.

There’s the old adage that Tommy is the cause of most of the conflicts on the SMP, and- no. Tommy and Dream's fight before the disc war? Sapnap. The disc war? All Dream, he could have literally given the discs back and stopped it. L'Manburg? Dream, for not even bothering negotiation. Pogtopia? Schlatt for tyrannical rulership and turning the nation against him. Butcher army? Quackity. Pet wars? Sapnap started the first one. The plot to destroy L'Manburg? Techno. Doomsday? Dream, Techno, and Phil. Not a single major conflict I can think of was started by Tommy.

It also mentions that Tommy needs to face consequences for his actions- he’s faced nothing but?

L'Manburg is mentioned as Tommy’s nation, which is factually incorrect. He was a general and VP at times but lacked little real power.

It also claims L'Manburg was based on division, and raised on war. In fact, L'Manburg was explicitly founded on the idea of non-violence.

Dream only really steps in when people threaten the SMP? Incorrect- as mentioned above, L'Manburg was fully peaceful and he didn’t even attempt negotiations. It also mentions “Tommy in general,” but all the conflict Tommy could be credited to causing literally all happened because Dream wouldn’t give him two pieces of plastic that Tommy owned.

It mentions the monarchs of the Greater Dream SMP being figureheads but also claims Dream isn’t a ruler? Like they’re figureheads for him.

Dream doesn’t hate Tommy lmfao he’s just a fuckin yandere.

I’m pretty sure the conflict that lead to the disc war started before Tommy even entered the server, and entirely involved the initial eight at the very least before Tommy killed Dream once.

“Tommy was the one who agressed further” Dream literally stole his shit and refused to give it back for no reason lmao.

Dream literally set up Tommy's exile weeks in advance, framing him. There was no incident until Dream made one over what basically amounted to a troubled teenager egging someone’s house and stealing like ten pounds. Karl and Sapnap (I believe) literally did worse to the house and weren’t punished at all.

I wouldn’t call what Dream did “manipulating Tommy into submission”, as the document did. It’s technically true, but more accurate to say would be abuse. Dream beat Tommy, and hit him with an axe until he screamed multiple times. He also forcibly destroyed his property, and threatened to kill him for minor things.

They actually don’t ignore Doomsday Dream saying he loved toying with Tommy! Props there! I appreciate that. Still, I disagree on their point that it was because of what Tommy represented. If it was, what was the point when Tommy was helpless and alone and begging like the terrified child he was?

A whole speech isn’t an indirect mention of only caring about the discs jfc

Also he said he only cared about the discs because they could be used to control Tommy he doesn’t care about the discs just the control they give him lol

“I view Tubbo much like an extension of the actions Tommy has taken” he’s a whole ass person dude?

In closure: I enjoyed reading through the manifesto! I like my opinions being challenged! I might come across as a bit rude, and for that I apologise- I’m trying to be humorous, not cruel. If anyone wants to debate me on this topic I’d be overjoyed!

#dream smp #dsmp #dream smp analysis #dsmp analysis #c!dream #c!dream negativity #c!dream apologist negativity #c!dream apologist manifesto

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dw-writes · 3 years

Note

32 for henry sturges :3

so, for anyone who doesn’t know, Henry Sturges is a character played by Dominic cooper in the movie Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and one of the main characters in the novel by the same name, while being the main character in the sequel, The Last American Vampire. sadly, the author of those novels is The Worst (TM) and i am now claiming this character as my own and will treat him kindly

i love him so fucking MUCH

I HOPE YOU ENJOY LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

Saying “I love you”....in a way that I can’t return.

There were parts of your memory that were hazy – days that were missing as you tried to remember why you were in pain, why you were tired, when you had fallen asleep. You remembered the better parts – the parts where you accepted a new job as a personal assistant, where you met your stupidly rich boss, where you found him weird and obnoxious and meeting every cliché that you had ever read about.

You especially remembered the part where you discovered that he was a vampire. That was important.

You shifted, the smooth surface of expensive sheets sliding against your skin. They were soft, and smelled lovely, and you recognized the scent as the one that Henry used for everything that could be washed. It was an older scent, one that wasn’t really made anymore, that he got from a little store on the other side of the city. It was one of the few things that he did personally.

Burying your nose into the pillow, you let out a sigh. At least you knew you were home, and comfortable.

A damp washcloth traced over your temple, down your cheek, and around the back of your neck.

“You’re alright,” whispered a familiar voice, one tinged with accent so faint it could never be placed, “You’re safe.”

You dreamed about that vivid memory of discovery. Henry Sturges had centuries of practice of keeping his identity a secret, something that, if you had been more observant, you would have noticed at lot sooner. But even someone with centuries of experience under his belt was prone to forgetfulness, and that was something that plagued him that day – he had forgotten his own set of keys to the house when he had set off on his usual journey across the city. He’d only realized it when he was too far gone and had called you to get the keys for him.

“If you could,” he had added, “If you aren’t too busy.”

“Of course,” you replied, “I’ll bring them to you.”

You failed to tell him that you, too, were on the opposite side of the city, and that it would take you longer than expected to take the keys to him. That was why you had arrived at the store after closing time, found it unlocked, and discovered Henry hauling a man clean off the ground with one hand, while bearing a mouth full of gleaming shards of bone. He dropped the man when you shouted at him to stop, failed to see you grab a pipe to swing at his skull.

(The memory bubbled up in your dream, descending upon you as though through a fog.)

You held the pipe with both hands, standing between Henry and the stairs leading up into the convenience store. Henry held his head between both hands, groaning, doubling over his knees. The other man, the store own, was still crumbled on the ground, unharmed, but unconscious.

“You hit me!” Henry shouted, “You actually hit me!”

“What do you expect?!” you snapped, “You? What are you?!”

He stumbled as he straightened, examining his fingers, then touched his head again. He stepped towards you.

You lifted the pipe over your shoulder, ready to strike again, yelling out nonsense.

“Don’t hit me again!” he cried.

“Get back!” you shrieked, “Get? Back! And answer my question!”

“Put the pipe down,” he said instead.

“Answer me!”

“Put the pipe down!”

“Answer the fucking question, Henry!” you paused, “If that’s your real name.”

His mouth dropped open with a scoff. You brandished the pipe as he stepped closer, stuttering out a disgusted, “I can’t believe the distrust! The suspicion!” He was on you in the literal blink of an eye, gently prying the pipe from between your clenched fingers like it was nothing. He tossed it away. The comical hurt he had previously worn was gone as he said, “I’m a vampire.” He squeezed your shoulders and set you on the steps. “Stay here a moment? I’ll be right back.”

(He’d left the poor store clerk – Seth, you remembered his name being – with a stack of journals, then swept you away back to his home – your home, the place where he provided you with a room of your own and asked for no rent at all – to sit you down and explain what he could.)

A hand gingerly pressed against your cheek, turning your head enough towards the owner to allow them to drip a warm liquid between your lips. It was bitter, with an aftertaste you couldn’t describe, and you twisted your head away from it.

A warm sigh tumbled across your face. “This is something you’ll have to get used to,” whispered a familiar voice, “And it won’t be easy, I can promise you that. But I’ll be there every step of the way.” A word caught on his voice, scratching in your ear as he cleared his throat. A pair of lips brushed over your temple.

Those words were so familiar. It took you a moment – a moment in which you fell back into a deep slumber – but you recalled where you’d heard them. You had said them, years before, when Seth had approached Henry about a biography. You remembered finding him pacing the first floor of his town house, reading over a letter that you assumed was from the author in question, swearing beneath his breath as he wore a path in the floor.

You told him so as you leaned on the banister, giving him an easy smile. He merely stared at you – you would have called it a glare if you hadn’t known him so well – and waved the paper in your direction.

“He wants to interview me,” he grumbled.

“I think that’s been done before,” you countered.

Henry crumbled the paper and tossed it in your direction. You ducked the projectile with a laugh, almost missing his scathing comment about your mocking. “That was a terrible joke!” he said with a huff, “Awful.”

“You’ll have to get used to it,” you said as you sat on the stairs, “Especially if people take what you say to heart – what the book says to heart.” Henry sat on the stairs, leaning back against the wall to look up at you. You reached out to run your fingers through his clean, un-styled hair. “It won’t be easy; I can promise you that. But I’ll be here for all of it. If you want.”

He leaned into your hand with a miniscule, unnecessary sigh. “I cannot imagine anyone else helping me with this,” he whispered.

You quirked an eyebrow. “Not even the man you trusted your beloved Abe’s journals to?”

(The quip earned you a gentle pinch, and eyeroll, and a smile only you were truly welcome to.)

You had rolled in your sleep, or had been moved, into a position that was startlingly comfortable. You turned your face further into the soft fabric under your cheek.

“Are you awake?” asked Henry, his voice surprisingly close to your ear while whatever you laid on rumbled with his words. Your eyes fluttered. A finger brushed over each of them, brushing the crust from your lashes. You wrinkled your nose. “You are awake,” he whispered, “Take your time. You’ve been through a lot.”

“What happened?” you croaked. You smacked your lips together and groaned; your mouth tasted awful. You rolled away from Henry’s tender hold, burying your face back into the pillow beyond his arm. “How long have I been asleep?”

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he appeared at your side again, the bed bending beneath his weight, and he held a glass to your lips. “Drink,” he murmured. His hand slid behind your head to help you.

The strange taste bloomed across your tongue as you sipped – bitter, and warm, and tangy as it rolled down your throat. You wrapped your fingers over his hand and gulped the concoction down, whatever it was – it soothed an ache you hadn’t noticed. You pressed your knees against his side as you sat up, tilting the glass further towards your face, draining it of everything it had, even going so far as to lick the brim clean before you opened your eyes.

He was watching you. His thumb brushed the space behind your ear while his fingers trailed down your neck. You rolled your lips together as you tried to gather what remained of your drink. You watched him in return: how hadn’t you noticed how beautiful he was before? You could count the freckles across his nose and cheeks in the low light of the bedroom with how vibrant they were against his skin; his swept back hair held various shades of brown, and a scant few strands of silver – from the stress of crossing over from England, you figured, before he was turned, or maybe they’d gone grey during the run from Crowley shortly after; and then there were his eyes, which skipped across your face before holding yours.

The blood that ran through your body – the blood that wasn’t yours anymore – ran cold.

You dropped the glass.

Henry managed to catch it before it hit the wood floor, depositing it on the nightstand at your elbow.

You rubbed your throat as the missing memories returned, first in patches, then like a film playing behind your eyes: someone had broken into the house. You had been downstairs, labeling the few bottles of blood that Henry kept hidden in his fridge, frowning at the unfamiliar sounds of another human in the home. It hadn’t taken you long to react, either – your father had taught you well before he died, had made sure that you would be ready to live on your own when the time came.

You pulled a knife from the butcher’s block and stepped out of the kitchen.

Your view from the hall to the front door was unobscured. Behind you, however, was a puff of hot air as someone growled, “You’re really real, aren’t you?”

A door upstairs slammed open.

You stepped away and twisted around, lifting the knife between you and the intruder, filling the hall as best as you could. You had only seconds before Henry would be down the stairs, before the man, who stared at you with a crazed glint in his eye and held a wooden stake above his head, would be able to figure out who was really the vampire in the house and hurt him instead. Maybe even kill him.

He would kill Henry.

He couldn’t kill Henry.

You wouldn’t let him.

You remembered answering him with a breathless, “Yes,” before the stake splintered your ribcage and plunged down into your heart.

Thumbs rubbed circles over your cheeks. You blinked slowly as the memory fell into place, neatly outlining a time before you were asleep – dead, you supposed – and when you woke up.

Henry whispered your name. You finally met his gaze once again. He let out a deep, unnecessary and dramatic sigh as his forehead fell against yours. “You know that ‘I love you to death’ is only a saying, right?” he asked, “And that was a very dramatic way to say it.”

Your face flushed. “Who said that I loved you?” you squeaked.

“You did, when you went and took a man’s stake to the heart for me!” he shot back.

“Maybe I was just there and he wanted to kill us both,” you argued.

“Hm, and that’s why you said you were the vampire, is it? That you were real?” he asked.

You pressed your lips together.

His fingers trailed down your jaw and under your mouth, gently holding your chin. “There’s not a single way that I can think of that can match that, you know,” he sighed against your lips, “This will have to do.” He said a lot as he kissed you, making sure that you knew how much he loved you, that he’d loved you for an awfully long time, that it probably started when you first walked through his door, and you hoped that the kiss you gave in return said as much as your death did – that you loved him.

That you love him.

That you will always love him.

#vampire #henry sturges #henry sturges x reader #the last american vampire #abraham lincoln vampire hunter #reader insert #vampire boyfriend #toss a queue to your witcher

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twsty-lav · 4 years

Text

yuu is no daijobu :’)

looks at god. why has thou cursed me with these brainworms. is this becoming a Thing.

also known as the WORLDBUILDING of language-barrier-au I guess. oof. here we go!!!

english DOES exist in canon? like its clearly slapped on the dorm symbols + all names/unique mahou magics are romanized (reverse-romanized? idk).

plus all the original disney movies are in english

SO THAT MEANS

English is basically the (super) dead language of this TWST au? like latin or ancient greek basically??

yeah sounds legit lets do that, also explains the loanwords! very cool. its like uhhhhh harry potter spells.

(would lilia speak english? how old is he 😔)

crowley knows the most english but, like, in comparison to everyone else. (so he doesn’t speak english, rip yuu)

yuu is actually their last name, because they said how about we don’t butcher it today. also, it makes more sense to have an european first name if they’re an english speaker

first name pending bc im lazy.

How does Yuu survive classes? they dont lol

Grim is already in charge of all the magic classes but now he gets to do everything else too lmao rip. anything written??? goodbye

On the other hand yuu DOES manage to follow along in.... Mathematics and Alchemy! All very real-world subjects! They kind of do OK in Potions (+ Grim does not have opposable thumbs).

They really enjoy biology though because, like, new species? magic?? howmst. also still hates PE. nobody likes PE.

mostly because everyone in NRC is ABSURDLY fit???? Yuu CANNOT keep up. looks at jack. what the fuck

flying is cool though.........

If they take any electives, they’d probably do well in all of them. (except maybe poisonmaking? monkey see monkey do 😔)

anyways. yuu simply does Not See Humanities. Trein hates them, Ace wants 2 be them.

Yuu’s got a notebook with them at ALL TIMES. there’s a pictionary section and a word bank section. they’ve never been better at art

regularly asks Deuce for help with the word bank (ily deuce keep being awesome). Yuu can’t read, so they force other people to write for them. slap on the translation/pronunciation under it, and its good 2 go!!

the first word they asked Deuce to write was japanese for ‘cauldron’ :)

“ogama-san!” “stop calling me that”

‘beast taming’ abilities: i do Not Know Yet

yuu can’t give them orders like in canon, sooooo? maybe it’ll be like a support magic that pops up in combat situations? still thinking about it lol

possibility: Yuu doesn’t have internal magic BUT they can harness atmospheric magic (like secondhand smoke?? drain runoff?). But it needs to build up first, so they can’t use it whenever like everyone else. Only useable in situations like:

- Ghosts (are made of magic?)

- Overblot fights (Lots of magic, duh)

- just fights (after enough magic has been used)

- magishift (after enough magic has been used)

either way their magic could be a support-style menu?? incorporate rhythm game mechanics somewhere? who knows i’m just blabbing

If Yuu doesn’t have magic, then it could be sort of a hand-signal arrangement? Yuu signals, Grim sits on their shoulder as a megaphone (that also shoots fire?).

a combo of BOTH????? cries

misc. My Yuu facts

Yuu is dirt poor lol,, they left all their allowance back home.... would have swindled kalim if he was a jerk

Would kill a man if kalim or deuce asked them to.

shorter than riddle, but will kill the first person who points it out. its Ace

Crowley could only find uniforms that were two sizes too large. constantly shuffling up sleeves.

Crowley also gave them a phone without voice recognition. Yuu says i crave the void

Ambiguously of asian descent until i figure out specifics lol. Probably an immigrant kid?

like Floyd, enjoys fun nicknames. by fun i mean puns and bad references.

are they high, tired, or stressed?? nobody knows

still doesnt understand what magishift is. or what happened in chapter 2.

worldbuilding hard... very sad

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phantaloon-books · 3 years

Text

Alright I got a couple comments asking for a continuation so here's part 2 of neil finding out the feds were onto smth when they recommended witness protection program

part 1

(Also thank you so much, I genuinely didn't expect such a good reception, everything I write is purely self indulgent)

Andrew is gonna fucking lose it. It's been over three weeks and not a single word from Neil fucking Josten. He's never hated him more, and this time he means it when he says hate. Actually he's not sure he hates himself or Neil more, but he feels hatred and rage and that's what matters. But of course the rabbit just left. Once a rabbit, always a rabbit.

He wanted so desperately to believe that, that Neil chose to run, that he chose to leave him them and keep running because that's what he knows best. Even if believing Neil chose to leave hurts him more than he'll ever admit, it's the best thing to believe. It's best to believe that Neil left than to believe something happened. It's best to believe Neil grew tired and bored of him them than to listen to the worry and dread Andrew's been feeling for months. It's best to believe Neil didn't want him than to let himself think of worst case scenarios.

But he can't make himself think that Neil left willingly and because he wanted to (and not it's not because he wants to believe that Neil wouldn't leave him). Neil would never run without his things, not without his stupid binder and money and contacts, not without clothes or any resources. If he ran away he would do it properly. He wouldn't leave with running clothes and his stupid flip phone. And most importantly Andrew knows that Neil has been restless lately. He's seen the way Neil checks every corner or every place, observes the people, looks for threats. He'd left those habits behind, so something has to have happened. Neil didn't just leave him.

The best thing is the other foxes aren't convinced Neil would run either. He had no one to run from, and he had a family now. And even if he was feeling overwhelmed or anxious, he would have come back. He wouldn't have taken three weeks. So they know, they know, Neil didn't leave because he wanted or needed to. And they're all anxious as hell about that bc if he didn't leave where is he?

They narrow it down eventually, and conclude that he got in a fight and is dead in a ditch somewhere, he had an accident in a coma in a hospital somewhere, he somehow got lost and/or lost his memory, someone killed him accidentally or not and his body is buried somewhere far away, or he's been taken. And Andrew cannot take the stress that he doesn't know where the fuck Neil is any longer.

He almost killed Kevin and several federal agents when Neil went missing for a few hours. This time, he hasn't tried to kill anyone yet but that hasn't stopped him from tearing every dorm apart and the stadium and the police station and the hospital and getting in fights with the FBI. He's desperate enough that he called Browning, hell, he's desperate enough that he contacted the Moriyamas, which wasn't a pleasant experience, but Ichirou had promised Neil protection and this definitely called for mafia intervention. So far neither the FBI or the Moriyamas had helped - yes they had, they informed him regularly that they were looking for Neil, but they had nothing, no clues no trails, and Andrew couldn't believe their incompetence, like for fucks sake the Moriyamas were yakuza, they ought to know what could have happened to one of their most valuable assets. And anyway if he ran, and wasn't taken, they for sure would be behind him, looking to kill him of course, but they still couldn't find him.

Andrew hasn't tried to kill anyone yet but he will soon if he doesn't find Neil, and he's sure he will start with himself. He can't remember the last time he slept or ate well, or went to exy practice, but he doesn't care. He can't care until he knows something. The lack of knowledge is driving him crazy. At this point knowing that Neil is dead and has been rotting in the countryside of Poland would be better than not knowing anything.

He hates this so much. He hates Neil for disappearing. He hates whoever went and got him. He hates the Moriyamas for not being able to find him and not keeping him safe in the first place. He hates himself for becoming so attached. He should have known better. He knew better. He knew it was a bad idea to feel all the things he feels for Neil, especially because it's Neil, the unpredictable rabbit. But he fell for the fake hope that they would make it, that he wouldn't be hurt again, that Neil would stay. He knew letting someone in again could kill him. He knows that if they don't find him, it will. He can't keep going like this. He was stupid enough to feel hopeful, but he won't be able to live once the hope dies.

He's laying in Neil's bed. He knows it's pathetic, but frankly he doesn't care. Everyday is worse than the last one. He's slipping and when he falls it's game over, he's going to make sure of that. If Neil genuinely cared, he'd be pissed at Andrew for even thinking about this. No he'd be upset, but not pissed, about the fact that he's considering taking his life over this. But he opened the door to feelings, and he won't be able to cope with them and he won't be able to close that door again. He's giving up.

Faint buzzing interrumps his thoughts. Someone's calling him. He couldn't stomach the runaway song that matched with Neil's but he couldn't stomach changing it either, so he leaves in on vibrate now. He looks at his screen. It's an unknown number. Most likely the FBI or the Moriyamas or a random police station ready to take him out of his misery and just tell him they found Neil's body. The code says it's from Minnesota. He considers not answering, but he might as well get over it.

He flips the phone open, "I only care about this if you are from the FBI or the literal mafia, so if you aren't from either, feel free to hang up." The other line stays silent for a few seconds, but when he looks at his phone, it's still going. The person didn't hang up. He doesn't have the patience for this. "I'm just gonna hang up then-"

"Andrew, wait." It's barely a hesitant whisper. The voice is absolutely shattered, rough and hoarse and very painful-sounding. There's wheezing too and labored breaths. But god. No matter how wrecked he sounds, he'd recognize that voice anywhere. In half a second he's up and falling from the bed in his haste, alert at last. He can't believe it. He wants to but he doesn't want to believe the call is real.

"Neil? Neil is that you?" He hates how vulnerable he sounds, but the thought dies quickly. There's no way, no way this is real. A sob breaks through the line, and oh it sounds so full of pain and fear.

"Andrew, I-I need you to stay safe. I don't know if they're coming for you, for the foxes. I need you to find a place where you're safe. Call Browning or Ich- the little Lord and make sure they can protect you guys for a while."

Okay that's definitely Neil even if he didn't answer the question. And Andrew's heart is going a thousand miles an hour, he doesn't feel his body anymore.

"Neil where are you? I'm coming to get you, I'll call Browning but where are you?"

"'Drew," another sob, and this one manages to break Andrew's walls more than than the whispered 'Drew', "promise me you'll stay safe, don't come looking for me, you can't take them down, please don't come looking for me."

The exhaustion and terror in his voice doesn't sit well with Andrew. The Neil he knows is not this. "For fucks sake Neil just tell me where in Minnesota you are, I'm coming to get you."

"No- no you're not, I'm not calling you because I want you to come. I just need you to promise you'll be safe."

"Neil who took you? Where are you? I can send the FBI or the japanese shits over, I swear to god I can send them to come get you if you just tell me where you are and who took you. I'll - I'll try my best to keep the others safe, but who took you?"

"I'm sorry, Andrew, I- I didn't mean to, please believe I didn't mean to leave, they- some of the Butcher's pals found me, I'm so sorry- I put all of you in danger again."

"Okay, that's something we can work with, now where are you Neil?"

"Andrew-" his breath hitches, he gasps and whimpers, "I'm so sorry, I have to go, I need to leave Andrew. Please stay safe. Look I- I love you okay? I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier."

"Neil wait don't hang up-"

And the line goes dead.

The world is falling apart, collapsing all around Andrew. He's numb but he feels encompassing terror. He can't feel a thing, he can't think. He was so close. It feels like Neil just slipped past his fingers, like he just let go of Neil and let him fall to the darkness. He thinks he may be falling too. He needs to call Browning. He does it instinctively, he doesn't register he has his phone to his ear until the FBI agents voice is calling to him. He also goes with what he's gonna say with the same instinct he pulled in Baltimore, knowing he can't mention certain mafia.

"Neil just called me, I have no idea from where, I have no idea how he got a hold of me, he didn't say a thing, he refused to say a thing other than we're in danger, the foxes, and that whoever took him will come for us- oh and apparently it's someone involved with the Butcher."

How he managed to be as apathetic and unattached to everything he said is beyond him. But whatever he says and whatever Browning says, FBI agents are now guarding them in the locker room of the Foxhole Court, with mattresses and mats laid down on the floor. and he doesn't know how they got here and he's cuffed all over again, but this time to Renee even if he doesn't remember being violent. Even the stupid rookies are here, looking extremely panicked and terrified despite most of them not giving a fuck that Neil was gone just hours ago. The other foxes - Neil's family - are pressing Andrew for answers, but he can't deal with anything at the moment.

He needs to call Ichirou too. That's the call that matters, because that's the call that can bring Neil home because he can't do that himself while cuffed to Renee and being guarded by the fucking FBI. He somehow convinces the agent to let him make a call, to his therapist he says, to grant him privacy even if that's utter bullshit. He's dragging Renee into the eye of the storm but oh well, why did they cuff him to her in the first place, it's not his fault. He calls the Moriyama representative he's been dealing with and thank Renee's god the woman answers.

"I need to talk to- to Lord Ichirou, it's about Neil Josten's whereabouts, I got important information about him." He can feel both the condescension from the other end of the line and poorly veiled shock from Renee. "I know where he is, I know about who's got him, I need to talk to Lord Moriyama."

He isn't sure how he managed it. He doesn't know how he convinced them to let them talk to their mafia boss, or how he's able to keep his cool for long enough to actually talk to the man himself. He thinks having Renee there, who asks no questions and keeps her hand on top of Andrew's with no hesitation, is part of the solution but he's not admitting that. Either or, he talks to Ichirou (he can't deny he's not terrified of messing up with the man who keeps Neil alive, but he's not admitting that either), reminds him of how Neil is important to the Moriyamas, both as an exy player and as a Wesninski, and how Neil, Kevin and Jean are loyal to the Moriyamas, hints at how Ichirou promised protection. He has perfect memory, but he will never remember how he convinced Ichirou Moriyama to send people to Minnesota and look for him all over the state and surrounding states, all he knows is that Ichirou stuck to his promise, all is good, he didn't fuck up.

Weeks pass again, nothing happens. There's no news from the Moriyamas, the FBI keeps telling him they're doing what they can. Andrew is done. No one came looking for them at least, which is nice bc they didn't die but it doesn't feel worth it when Neil wasn't back. He feels stupid for hoping he would come back safe and alive. The Moriyamas might as well have killed him for being such an inconvenience. Things are going to hell. Andrew was an idiot for falling so hard for Neil Josten. It was a mistake. He should have known better.

His anger is gone, and numbness has settled. It was becoming a habit for him to remain lying down most of the day. It was also becoming a habit for the foxes to take care of him when he did this. He can't even bother to shower if someone doesn't remind him every day, or eat, or drink water for that matter. He's a mess and he would be incredibly embarrassed if he cared a little, but he's slipping and he doesn't mind falling. Nothing is fine. Until it is.

It comes in the form of a text one morning, while he's lying on the couch in the living room. An unknown number again, New York code, and it only reads, "Threat has been dealt with - I". And what the fuck does that mean. It tells him absolutely nothing. If Ichirou bothered to text him he could at least be clear as to what the fuck that meant. Was Neil even alive? There is a soft knock at the door. Of course, someone bothers him when no other fox is at the dorm. They couldn't ditch every class to make sure Andrew didn't combust spontaneously.

He truly doesn't want to get up. He doesn't want to go answer the door. It's too much a bother. If it's someone important they'll either knock again aor shout for him to open up. He curls up in bed. He honestly wants to disappear. There's another knock, a little harder than the first. But there's no voice, no demand, no nothing. Maybe it's a Moriyama. Maybe he'll feel so disrespected or whatever he's gonna barge in and end his misery. Whatever. "Fuck off", he shouts from the couch, hoping for the best. There's another knock, for fuck's sake, can they just walk in already? Another, and he's up. Pissed and going for the door.

"Fucking hell, what do you want?" His anger is back with a passion, and he's practically stomping to the door, throwing it wide open, "Just barge through the fucking door, and get it over with-"

He has to stop exploding when people don't answer to him right away. Maybe he should work on his patience. Because frankly it has been working against him at the worst times. No it's not his fault. It's the idiot's fault for appearing at out nowhere and stealing his breath away. Everything is Neil Josten's fault.

"Hey Drew," said idiot's voice is impossibly more hoarse than when he called him before. Andrew can't tell if his heart is beating too fast or not at all. He thought he was a mess, but Neil looks like he's been through hell and back. Well, he's been through hell and back too many times before, but he's never looked this bad, and he was a mess after Evermore. His face is beaten so badly, so swollen, if he didn't know him and those stupidly blue eyes so well. Even his eyes are different, there's no spark, they're dull and hazy. He's wearing a large hoodie and sweatpants, so Andrew can't see the damage beyon his face, but at least his hands remain okay, there's no new damage. "Looks like I still have it in me to leave you speechless, huh."

Andrew takes a deep breath and he sighs. And his heart breaks. Neil. Neil. Neil is here. Andrew wants to craddle him and hold him and never let him go again. He doesn't care if it's soft, Neil is here. He raises his hands, frames Neil's face like he has before. He presses a hand to Neil's neck, looking for a pulse, and he finds it. He's alive.

"Neil," he breathes, and he feels. He feels. "You're alive, I thought, you-"

They're both silent. Andrew doesn't notice when Neil raises his hands, framing his own face. They've been here before.

"I'm not leaving you, I promised right? You're not getting rid of me that easily. "

He hates feeling this much, "You've got some explaining to do, but- it can wait."

"That's good yeah, because I'm not sure how much longer I can remain conscious and the Moriyamas weren't the best at patching everything up, so I'd really appreciate it if you call Abby."

He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth, so he guides Neil inside, holding on to his hand like a tether. Neil deflates, he grimaces as Andrew helps him to the couch. He's obviously hiding something below the clothes. Andrew stands to call Abby, but Neil grips his hand tightly. When Andrew looks up, he sees the fear and exhaustion he heard on the call weeks ago. Neil isn't able to keep up the act of being okay for long.

"Stay, pl- just," he looks away, and Andrew doesn't know how to feel about the pause, he didn't say the word, "can you stay?"

And he does. Things aren't fine. Neil is a mess. So is Andrew. They have to work through stuff. Andrew clearly has to work on the apparent dependancy issues. But they'll have time now. Neil is safe. He's alive and safe. He lost consciousness not long after he sat down, but Abby, Wymack and the foxes are on their way. They're not fine. But Neil is lying next to him, and he isn't gonna let him go again. They'll be fine.

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touyasnow · 3 years

Text

horikoshi continues the most worthless plot points and develops the worst characters (the WRONG WAY) instead of going into the actually good concepts he initially introduced and its so aggravating.

it just genuinely feels like he has no clue where he wants to take the series, because he immediately goes to conflict everything he says. he’s not even maximizing the use of his characters or writing a compelling storyline — it’s just all going so downhill and it’s hard to say you like the series when it’s really only a few characters and maybe an arc or two.

i really just don’t understand horikoshi’s obsession with redeeming the most annoying characters especially. or rather i should say the most irredeemable characters. and that’s not me saying i think any of the league need a “redemption” cuz... they’re right so what do they need to be redeemed for lmao?

but it feels like he doesn’t even understand his own characters and i’m not saying that to sound cocky as if i get them more than he does since he’s the original creator but i literally do get them better.

there’s no way that overhaul feels any remorse whatsoever for what he did to eri. i haven’t read the chapters exact, but from what i’m understanding deku interprets their interaction as him seeking forgiveness for what he’s done or whatever.

i think a more valid interpretation would be him reflecting on his own faults that led to the loss of his quirk and his imprisonment. i could definitely see him regretting losing eri because of that, but spinning the story as to him regretting experimenting and basically torturing a six year old is such a half-assed take.

the reason this characterization is inconsistent starts literally from the start. overhaul was the one to bring up the plan with eri, and he even faced pushback from pops on it. if he genuinely saw anything wrong with what he was doing, pops, out of anyone, would have been able to help him recognize that. that was his closest relationship and he says himself that the only reason he’s doing this is out of gratitude for pops adopting him.

but even his adopted father isn’t able to convince him — in fact, he’s so set on this that he puts pops into a coma for trying to stop him. so where’s the logic at all in making him feel remorse for what he did to eri? he even went as far as to take out of his pops to carry out his plan.

there’s no way deku suddenly opened his eyes to feeling bad. the only consistent option here is that horikoshi wants to add to his list of irredeemable characters that he wants to redeem.

i just don’t understand it. overhaul’s a perfect example of a good villain. he was very well written up to this point, and this shift is literally butchering all of that.

and again, it’s just so very inconsistent. for one, deku is supposed to be the most compassionate character in the series, and yet all of it is spent on abusers, who are nothing like him? i hate it sm.

the other thing is that storywise, arcs are meant to progress the story, no? and yet, every step that horikoshi takes is another one backwards.

if the goal is for deku to become the number one hero, how is he supposed to do that in the current state of hero society successfully? i’m not even mad fr about him dropping out of school — i think this plot point could’ve worked GREAT! if only it were started earlier, — but the fact that horikoshi has made it abundantly clear that he has no interest in actually doing something about the rampant corruption ongoing in hero society screws it all up.

every character that he writes hoping to change things, whether through force or not, is either out of commission or discredited. in the current state of hero society, following this plotline, deku cannot be the number one hero. by the standards horikoshi has set, deku is essentially a villain. and yet, because he’s the protagonist, none of this will even be addressed. instead, horikoshi will simply conflict it later, uncaring that one of his main plot points has been utterly destroyed just by his indecisiveness regarding whose side he’s on.

and this is what i mean by saying that horikoshi has no clue what he’s doing. of course you can argue that he’s put way too much on his plate (this is true! he has introduced too many plots to know what to do with them all), but he’s gone beyond just neglecting a select few. he’s butchering his own story, and at this point, all of his characters are just throwaways.

#bnha 316 #yes i am ranting again <3 #mine

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pressedinthepages · 3 years

Text

Family Business

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: Another day, another collab with Maragret @sometimesiwrite cause we just cannot stop. And this one will have cHaPtErS!!!!!!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Modern Coffee Shop AU. Eskel and his brothers run a coffee shop. Jaskier pops in one morning. Neither can anticipate what is to come.

The bell above the door of Happy Goat Coffee and Snacks tinkled quaintly as Eskel returned from the corner store, carton of almond milk in-hand. He slipped the receipt into the till and opened the milk fridge, taking stock to see if there was anything else that couldn’t wait for Wednesday’s delivery. All seemed to be in order—Barista Blend soy and oat milks, a few bags of regular milk. He didn’t like carrying almond (bad for bees), but it was the only thing some customers could drink so… here it was.

He turned to make himself another coffee, taking stock of their baked goods: chocolate zucchini muffins, banana bread, blueberry muffins (a few missing, Geralt’s been here…), and an assortment of granola-based snacks. The overall business plan was plant-based and/or sustainably sourced in the hopes of filling a void left by the larger chains that were the only other options in the neighbourhood. It wasn’t a bad plan, and with the increasing number of conscious-consumer parents, they were establishing a strong and loyal customer base.

Lambert carried a tray of sourdough paninis around the counter and began transferring them into the display case, arranging them as neatly as his energetic hands would allow. It had been hell working with him for the first little bit. Lambert took after their sainted mother only in being a morning person. His general pissy attitude skipped a generation and came directly from their grandmother. But the prickly bastard knew what he was talking about, and after some… heated negotiations, they managed to agree on finding a local butcher who could provide pork belly which Lambert would turn into proper bacon in the back. They barely had the space, but he somehow made it work, and it sold very well as an add-on. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. It did taste better.

Of course, this didn’t stop the young brother’s grumbling. He simply did it while chewing. “Lambert, could you please, please, stop eating the bacon?”

“I’m sorry, I must be doing this wrong. Do I look like I give a fuck???”

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m doing it for you. Just...” he sighed “don’t eat us into bankruptcy.”

“What, so Geralt can drink all the fuckin organic ass lemonade he wants but I can’t have a piece of gods-be-damned bacon???”

“Geralt drinks the—oh my God you guys are killing me—look, I will talk to Geralt about the lemonade, you can have some, some bacon, and I’m going to try my hardest not to put my head through the fucking wall. Capiche?”

Lambert watched over Eskel’s shoulder as Geralt chugged the remainder of the lemonade from his cup through narrowed eyes in his direction.

“Fine.” Lambert growled, turning back to the kitchen. “You’ve got a fucking customer, by the way, boss.”

“Don’t call—oh never mind. Hello, sorry, welcome to the Exasperated Goat. I’ve changed the name.”

“I love it,” the young man on the other side of the counter crooned, cocking his hip with a smile. “Think it’ll really capture the true essence of the neighbourhood.” Eskel was struck dumb immediately, his words falling flat on his tongue. He was trapped in a pair of dazzling blue eyes and the brightest, most open face he’d seen in a—well, a depressingly long time, if he was honest. The young man was eccentrically stylish with bright splashy colours and patterns that had no business going together as well as they did.

Eskel wasn’t the only one transfixed. His vivacious new customer was too busy marvelling at something inexplicable behind the proprietor’s hazel-green eyes and his… aura? Was that even a thing? How long have I been standing here? Oh God, am I staring? Shit.

Geralt swaggered behind the counter and bumped into Eskel's shoulder pointedly.

“What can I get you?” He fumbled, working hard to regain his senses.

The young man recovered more smoothly, “Cappuccino, dry please. And a chocolate zucchini muffin. Please,” he added with a cheeky grin, holding out a twenty.

Eskel took the money and their fingers brushed, just the tiniest bit—was that a linger?—but he felt the sparks fly under his skin nonetheless, and as he got to work steaming milk, he desperately tried to remember how small talk worked. The young man beat him to it.

“How’s the morning so far?”

Eskel sighed, glancing up at him. “Not...terrible,” he said, peering over his shoulder to find Lambert now munching on a mini quiche. “Lambert keeps eating the merchandise, but I suppose it could be worse.”

Eskel was caught up in the man’s smile again until the rapidly rising temperature of the milk that brought him back to himself. He tapped the pitcher to settle the foam and wiped the steam wand, “How’s your day been...?”

“Can’t complain,” the man shrugged, taking a sizeable bite out of the side of his muffin—an act that Lambert would have seen as a criminal offense. Eskel disguised an amused grimace. “Had a gig last night, decent turnout. One or two people I didn’t know actually showed up on purpose.” Eskel knocked a portafilter empty, cleaning it with a well-practiced twist of the wrist. The man’s eyes drifted to the espresso-stained microfibre cloth that was currently being handled so expertly and found his mind wandering, jarred back to reality as the grinder kicked on. He jumped a little.

“Ah, you’re a musician, then?” Eskel asked over the noise.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he took in the breadth of Eskel’s shoulders. “I like telling stories,” he called back.

“Ah, you write your own stuff, then.” Eskel knocked the edge of the portafilter against the palm of his hand to settle the espresso and Jaskier was lost again, watching large, graceful hands working with strength and precision, all in the name of a decent cup of coffee. Eskel looked at his mesmerized conversation companion, “Or do you prefer to cover?”

“Hm? Oh, well, a bit of both. I like to cover because it gives people a sense of familiarity, like they can trust you with their evening. It sets the tone. Then I do my own stuff once I’ve got them on my side.”

Eskel cut the shot as the rich caramel colour of the dark espresso began to run lighter, and he gave it a sniff, ensuring the extraction was good before pouring in a little milk, and dolling out large quantities of foam. He passed the drink to the young man. “Extra dry.”

“Ah, my hero,” the young man wrapped his hands around the cup and brought it to his lips. “Mmm, delicious as always.”

“Always?” Eskel asked, tearing his eyes away from the young musician’s long, slender fingers. “Y-you’ve been in here? I don’t—I’d’ve thought I’d remember you.”

“Mhm, I usually pop in in the afternoons though, it’s typically Geralt over there who’s working.” He waggled his fingers over Eskel’s shoulder and he heard Geralt grunt in acknowledgment.

“Ah, yes. He takes over from me so I can go home and sleep. Well, rather forces me to. It’s hard to remember there’s a home when you spend most of your time at your own business. You hear people talk about self-care? Mine’s Geralt.”

And the young man, who Eskel thought was incapable of being any more charming, laughed so brightly and earnestly that Eskel could’t stop the grin that spread to his own face—not that he’d’ve wanted to.

"I suppose that's what partners are for, isn't it?" he said flippantly, adding a dash of nutmeg to the foam in his cup and stirring in a little honey.

"Pardon?"

"To remind you there's something other than work, you know, house and family and—"

"Oh, uh, no—business partner. Geralt's just a—well not just. He's my brother."

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I just assumed... You know, urban cafe, tasteful decore, and then you mentioned he’s your self-care. Most people aren't that close with their siblings is all."

Eskel nodded, "Our other brother's in charge of the kitchen. It's... a long story, but, here we are!"

Eskel watched as the young man took a deep breath through his nose, seemingly steeling himself. He was then met with those striking eyes again as a napkin was slid across the counter, just barely brushing his fingertips. “In that case...would you like to get dinner sometime?”

"I—what?" Eskel shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing.

The young man smiled again,"It's alright. I'm just giving you a napkin with my number on it. You can use it to communicate with me. You know, texting? Call me? Maybe eat some food?"

"But I—I don't understand, why?"

The young man playfully rolled his eyes, "If you're not interested, you can just say so."

“No! No, I absolutely am, I’m ju-“ Eskel stammered, trying desperately to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth and driving the young man away,“I’m just not sure why you are.”

The young man just laughed brightly, his blue eyes flashing beneath dark lashes, "Because you're handsome, hard-working, and the way we've connected just now gives me a hunch. Besides, how long has it been since you had a chance to get away and go to dinner with someone?"

Eskel eyed his customer, thought for a moment, and tapped the napkin before picking it up. "Walk first, then dinner. I hate starting dates like a third-degree."

The young man set down his coffee and held out his hand, beckoning to Eskel over the counter. As he came around, he offered his hand in return, and was shocked by the—could he call it intimacy?—of the musician’s hand gently closing around his. It may as well have been an embrace. “I-“ and of course his voice cracked. Eskel cleared his throat with a chuckle, finding those beautiful baby blues once more. “I’m Eskel.”

"Julian. Stage name is Jaskier. You can call me either, it doesn't really matter."

Eskel smiled warmly, "It's nice to meet you, Julian."

"Likewise, Eskel. I, uh, I should get going. But. Text me, we'll make plans."

Eskel watched as Julian left, his stride long and confident. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring into empty space, but at some point Geralt once again appeared to nudge against his shoulder. “Better save that napkin, brother.”

Eskel nodded at the flimsy paper in his hand, looking at the digits like they were an ancient cipher that needed decoding. "Better yet..." Geralt said, surreptitiously grabbing Eskel's phone from off the counter, unlocking it, and texting, Hope you have a good day.

"Here you go," Geralt said, handing the phone back to Eskel before pouring himself a drip.

Eskel’s stomach simultaneously lept into his throat and fell onto the floor. “Geralt,” he breathed, watching the *read* message pop up, “well now what? By the way,” Eskel suddenly turned, wagging his finger at the end of Geralt’s nose, “quit drinking all of the merchandise!”

“First off, now he can actually text you back instead of waiting to hear from you all day, which is exactly what would happen if left to your own devices. Secondly... Lambert said he wouldn’t tell you.”

Eskel shook his head, mouth agape, “Unbelievable.”

Eskel’s fingers itched as he continued about his morning business, his phone silent in his pocket. He had nearly given it up as a lost cause when it finally chimed, and then he almost sent the phone flying across the store in his haste.

So sorry for the late reply, Eskel. I was on the metro and then I had to run off downtown and then, alas, my phone died. I should really get one of those portable battery things. Ah well. Thank you for the well wishes!! It really brightened my day once I finally got them 😍😍😍

Eskel exhaled deeply. Okay, this was okay, this was good. He typed and deleted. Retyped. Deleted. Geralt reappeared over his shoulder, glancing at the text no worries, wanted to make sure you had my number. Geralt shook his head and took a sip of coffee before grabbing Eskel’s phone and typing, no worries, glad you got it sorted. Hope the metro wasn’t too much of a disaster. Geralt handed Eskel his phone to peruse the message.

“When did you get good at texting?” Eskel murmured as he pressed ‘send.’ Geralt merely shrugged as he ambled away, clearly in search of something to snack on as he finished inventory and ordering. Eskel called over his shoulder, “Would you please make more lemonade since you drank it all?!?!”

As Geralt’s hum in the affirmative hit his ears so did the chime of his phone.

Not bad at all! Only one shouty person, and he didn't even hurl obscenities after me :D Although a mother with a very large stroller gave me a rather impressive side-eye as I sat down with my guitar tucked between my feet and mumbled something about manspreading. Some days it's the little things that get you through 🙃

Eskel replied, That sounds about right for 2 in the afternoon. Too bad you didn't see the Singing Man, he'll really give your day a kick you didn't know it needed.

You know what would give my day a good kick? A lovely walk with a lovely man ;)

And Eskel blushed. Full on blushed. Lambert snorted from where he hovered in the doorway.

“Go on, lover boy,” Lambert smirked, taking a bite out of another goddam slice of bacon. “We’ve got it covered.”

He rubbed his face. It was hard to think straight. He'd been up since 4:30, and part of him just wanted to go home and sleep, but it was also the first sunny day they'd seen in what felt like over a month, and the idea of a nice walk with some light conversation wasn't unappealing in the least. He frowned at Lambert, "How do you even know it's him that texted?"

"Because you just turned three shades of pink and stared at your phone like it's a piece of alien technology."

Eskel grumbled and turned back to his phone. Would be nice to get some company and fresh air. What part of town are you in? Meet in the middle?

Meanwhile, Julian was on the metro. Again. His leg bounced where he was sitting, reading the same paragraph of some random book over and over again. He knew it was a long shot coming all the way back to the coffee shop—Eskel might be done for the day and gone home or out doing shopping or—but it could be worth it. He lept off at his stop and bounded up the stairs, and his phone dinged with a delayed notification. He smiled at his phone and stowed it away, walking as fast as he possibly could until he saw the familiar sign of the coffee shop. Julian slowed down so that he didn’t cross the line from ‘windswept’ into ‘desperate’ and peered into the little window. He spotted Eskel immediately, his back to the door and speaking with another man behind the counter, presumably Lambert. Julian smiled and pushed open the door.

"Whoa-ho-ho, Pretty Boy at twelve o'clock."

Eskel looked up from Jaskier's Spotify account and quickly closed his phone. "I suggested halfway, I hope you didn't come all the way across town."

Now it was Julian’s turn to stammer a bit, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth as his eyes swept across Eskel’s form. Since this morning, it had clearly been a busy day. His cheeks were flushed and his hair curling at the nape of his neck, and he had even caught a glimpse of luscious chest hair peeking out from the sharp v-neck that pulled across his chest. “I-“ Julian grinned to himself, come on, keep it together, “I was already on the metro when you texted back, so I figured I’d just...come here!”

Eskel narrowed his eyes and hummed. "Want a drink before we head out?"

"Oh sure, we can't eat the merchandise but you can give away free drinks to anyone who flirts with you?"

"I—You—would you just..."

Jaskier cut in, "I think you'll find that actually exactly how it works. Bit of an unspoken code. People have started taking advantage of it to get free coffee, though. Makes it hard for those of us who mean it..." Julian's eyes met Eskel's for a lingering second and Eskel had to remind himself to breathe. "London Fog, please, Eskel. But I'm happy to pay. I know tea is less expendable."

"Hm. See, Lambert? It's a barista thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes as Eskel steeped the Earl Gray in a bit of hot water, added vanilla, and steamed some milk. He carefully slid the finished beverage over the counter, one of his hands finding the tie at the back of his apron. “So...” he said, trying to decide between meeting or avoiding Julian’s intense gaze, “would you like that for here, or to go?”

"I think you'll find it's already in a to-go cup," Julian said, raising an eyebrow.

"That's because we're getting the hell out of here," Eskel said, and—much to Julian's instant pleasure and amusement—fluidly traversed the service counter, landing deftly on the other side. "I just need to change my shoes, and I'll be up in a second." Julian looked down to see Eskel's black work shoes covered with espresso and nodded, blowing on his tea as he watched, leaving him with the Prickly Brother, staring at him as he chewed his bacon.

Julian sipped his tea and peered over the rim at Lambert, who had been scowling at him the entire time. Though he didn’t take it personally, it was likely that was just his face. “So,” Julian started, thrumming his fingers on the side of the paper cup, “you’re the one who’s been eating all of the merchandise?”

Lambert scoffed and scowled sideways, the last piece of bacon sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He nudged himself off the back counter and swaggered close to Julian. "Listen. I don't know what your deal is. But if you fuck him over, you will have two very big, very pissed off brothers to deal with. Got it?"

"Fuck him over what?"

"'Scuse me?" Lambert said, scowling harder.

"You said not to fuck him over, but didn't specify what."

It took Lambert a moment, but he granted himself one singular chuckle for the little shit. “Alright, kid. Just- be careful with him.”

Julian smiled gently, peering over Lambert’s shoulder to where Eskel was striding back into the shop. “He seems like the kind of guy that I will certainly be trying my best to keep around.”

“Better believe it. You can spend your whole life looking, you won’t find a better guy than Eskel. He’s a fucking goldmine. But he’s our goldmine. Take his shine, you answer to us.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian mock saluted as Eskel handed something to Lambert. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piece of bacon.

“Geralt’s in charge,” Eskel rumbled (which Julian found enticing) and with that, he turned on his heel and pulled open the door. He held it open and Julian smiled as the two of them stepped into the evening sun.

Eskel took a deep breath as soon as they stepped into the fresh air, letting the warm sunlight spill across his face. It was beautiful to look at. His hair glinted with little chestnut highlights and his arching eyebrows became even more pronounced in contrast with the brightness of his skin in the evening glow. Julian watched the muscles of his face relax, the pressure of greeting people slowly dissolving. His shoulders dropped, and he looked truly exhausted for a moment before opening his eyes and smiling softly. “So, Julian. Do you like dog parks?”

Julian braced an excited hand on the swell of Eskel’s arm (and my gods it was firm), “I would love to go to the dog park...but will it be odd if we just show up, without a dog?”

Eskel laughed and Julian felt his knees go a bit wobbly and he tucked his arm around Eskel’s for support. He noticed Eskel glance down. Ah, right, a bit forward. Easy Jaskier. Julian smoothly transitioned to holding his cup with both hands and Eskel smirked privately, appreciating the non-verbal understanding. “No, not really. We can find a bench if it’s not too cold, lots of people come by and watch. Not everyone in the city can have an animal, people are pretty understanding of onlookers.” Julian still looked skeptical, “c’mon, it’s not like going to a playground. I promise we won’t be creepy.”

“Well...” Jaskier smiled, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “lead the way.”

Eskel walked slowly, stretching their time (and his legs) as much as he could. They made polite, easy small talk, finding little details about each other as they walked.

It turned out that they had surprisingly similar tastes in music, and Jaskier was both pleased and intimidated to learn that Lambert doubled as a DJ on weekends at one of the more popular clubs downtown. He was further surprised to learn that their father owned and operated one of the oldest Italian restaurants in the city and was quite famous because of it—he’d opened it as an homage to his Italian wife when she passed away unexpectedly—and while Papa Vesemir himself was Polish, he’d learned to cook from the best.

It seemed they were a culinary family, in fact. Both Lambert and Geralt had trained in professional settings—Geralt had a background in baking, while Lambert had trained on the line with his father. Eskel, it turned out, preferred to be behind the bar. He liked people. Enjoyed making drinks. His father always joked that he had the “magic touch.” Every drink he made always came out tasting better, even if he followed the recipe to a T.

“So, why the coffee shop?” Julien asked as they rounded the corner of the dog park. They both smiled as they saw fluffballs of all shapes and sizes bounding around, and Eskel led them to a small bench.

He kicked his feet out in front of him and sipped his own coffee thoughtfully. “It was something we all knew how to do, and we saw a niche missing in the neighborhood. We had originally wanted to make it a bit more of a hub for artists and public resources—you know, host workshops, put up fliers, put artists’ work on the walls to sell. It isn’t quite where we want it yet, but it’s our old neighborhood. Wanted to give something back to the community. Plus, we like having regulars. You don’t get the same thing with restaurants. Cafes, though, you can get to know people better. Build loyalty.”

Julian sat for a moment, looking at Eskel with a deeper appreciation than he already had. “You’re amazing,” he breathed, the words spilling from his lips without so much as a second thought.

Eskel flushed even deeper, his neck a very pretty shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say all that...”

“But I would,” Julian nodded, downing the remainder of his tea. “You’ve created something beautiful in a place that’s meaningful to you with your family, that’s amazing. And I’m allowed to say that, because I personally decide what is and is not amazing.”

“Fair enough,” Eskel raised an eyebrow and hid a smirk behind another sip of coffee. “It’s just... well everyone’s gone and opened up a coffee shop now, and it’s getting harder to see where our niche still sits. It’s a diverse neighborhood, we don’t want to alienate anyone, but we have to stay open... ah, I dunno. I suppose anything seems unremarkable if you’ve been waist-deep in the logistics for long enough.”

“Do you have open mic nights?”

“What?”

“Open mic nights, you know, local artists bring their instruments, read poetry, play music, promote new albums while people buy alcohol and food?”

Eskel tilted his head, “Huh...”

“Yeah. Huh.” Julian nudged Eskel’s shoulder playfully.

“The only issue with that is hours. We’d have to hire more staff and/or open later in the day so we can stay open.”

“You could man a proper bar again,” Julian sang, jiggling his foot at the end of his crossed leg.

Eskel reached an arm up and over and around Julian’s shoulder, “Julian, either you’re a remarkable person and I don’t know what on earth you could possibly want with me... or you’ve been sent by one of our competitors to play a long con and put us out of business.”

Julian tried valiantly to hide the shiver that ran down his spine just with the proximity, the weight of Eskel’s arm resting comfortably on his shoulders. “Well, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you,” Julian smirked. Eskel threw his head back and laughed, reveling in the rejuvenating aura of the delight of a human that had deposited himself at his side.

“Hmmm, shall we keep walking? Or—I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got things to do,” his gaze on Julian was sincere and unassuming and the young musician was certain he’d never had less sense of any ulterior motives than he did in this moment.

“I should drop my things home before work, actually. But we can walk for a bit in the same direction if you like.”

Eskel shrugged, “Sure! Which way are we headed?”

“I’m an Eastender,” Julian smirked. “Off we go!” He offered his elbow for Eskel to take, which he did—a little tentatively and far more gently than Julian would ever have expected from someone so... physically imposing.

Eskel could feel the persistent thrum of blood under his skin, but not in a way that signalled any particular desire. He felt comfortable, more content than he had been in a very long time, and he felt like he could easily waste an entire day doing exactly what they’d been doing for the last hour. Walking, talking, laughing...

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, looking up at Eskel and stealing his breath in the same movement.

“I’m—uh—“ he cleared his throat again, “I’m thinking about how pleasant this has been and... also how comfortable I feel. I—well, I get the jitters, usually. With this kind of thing Which is not to say I haven’t still got them but,” they stopped walking for a moment, and Eskel turned to face his date, “what I’m trying to say is you’re very comfortable to be around. And that’s new.”

“Wow... honesty. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I’m sorry did-did I...?”

“Just make me more impressed?” That damn smile, “yes, I’m afraid you did. How tragic.”

Just like that, Eskel was lost again, caught up in those eyes that shone with an enigmatic innocence and penetrating observation that kept him looking and left him speechless. And Julian... well Julian was uncharacteristically at a loss for words in front of this stunningly kind, unbearably-gentle man he'd impulsively taken a chance on just a few hours ago because of a hunch.

Eskel wondered whether Julian had leaned a bit closer during their few seconds of silence and countered, leaning forward a little himself. But he didn't want to make the young man think he was in it for the wrong reasons. The fact that he was older and larger wasn't lost on him, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to feel any pressure. Those bright blue eyes flitted to Eskel's lips, and he swallowed, waiting. But Julian's intuition was too strong—Eskel was hesitating. Instead of following his eyes to the full, soft-looking lips in front of him, Julian placed his hands on Eskel's chest and dispersed the tension.

“If we don’t keep walking I’m going to freeze my ass off,” Julian finally said.

Eskel huffed a small laugh. “Come on then,” he jutted his chin, and the two started walking again.

After a brief silence, Julian spoke, suddenly worried that Eskel felt rejected in some way, “For what it’s worth, I also feel quite comfortable. With you, I mean.”

“Yeah?”

“I find I’m starting to move away from the Village scene. It’s always nice to have a community, of course, be able to go to a bar and know you’re in good company but... in the city, everyone’s trying on identities and—it’s all well and good, they should, but it’s just... well, it was fun for a while. I just want to play music and make people happy.”

“Hm. I can relate to that.”

Julian stopped at the top of the street that would lead him to his apartment, not really wanting the evening to end, wondering whether Eskel was aware exactly how much he’d brightened Julian’s day.

“C-would you...I mean, if I- or-“ Eskel stuttered, his fingers fiddling at his sides.

“Go on...” Julian crooked his head with a gentle smile.

“Would you mind if I came to one of your shows?”

Julian closed his hands around Eskel’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Good God, please come to one of my shows so I can look at a face that wants to be there instead of my bored friends.”

“Well, I’m sorry it has to be my face,” Eskel fumbled in his self-consciousness, hearing the sound of his own distasteful insecurity. He grimaced inwardly. bad form, Eskel.

“Hm. Clearly, you haven’t met my pimply weak-chinned-not-at-all-utterly-dashing friends.” It was so easy. Ludicrously easy, the way Julian made Eskel smile in that moment. It truly was a remarkable feat, one that none of Eskel’s former failed romances had ever navigated as easily, or as quickly.

“Thank you,” Eskel said quietly, only for Julian’s ears.

“Whatever for?” Julian’s brow crinkled adorably and Eskel wanted to smooth the creases away with his thumbs.

“For...for being bold. Because I know I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh please. This is all stage presence and bravado. I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown since I wrote my number on that napkin. Listen, I’ve—ahh I hate to do this but I really have got to run. We can text later or I’ll pop by the cafe tomorrow and—“

“Absolutely, do your thing, I don’t want to make you late. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab dinner.”

“I’ll check my schedule tonight. Should be free in the next few days. Have a good night, Eskel. I mean that.” Julian turned to go, but turned back, quickly pecking a kiss to Eskel’s right cheek, leaving the man standing with a half-smile of surprise on his face as he watched his new love interest scurry into his apartment.

Eskel walked back to the coffee shop, his cheeks pained from the smile that still hadn’t faded. The little bell above the door chimed and Geralt looked up from where was wiping down the counter, and Eskel heard a loud clang as Lambert dropped a metal pan and came running to the front of the now-empty cafe.

Eskel stood in front of his brothers. Geralt’s hand stopped where it was mid-wipe and Lambert fidgeted where he stood, hands on his hips. “So??”

Eskel hadn’t seen Lambert this energetic in a long time, and stood silently, drinking in his little brother’s excitement. Geralt came out from behind the counter, “Eskel. I don’t want to beat it out of you, but you’re leaving me with very few options.”

“Nah, Geralt, you gotta use smaller words. He’s clearly having a stroke. Eskel!” Lambert clapped loudly, “How did. It go. With Pretty Boy. C’mon, we’re tryna close up here!”

Eskel finally spoke, “I—yeah, it was great. I, uh, I really like him.”

“Fucking finALLY, BROTHER, THAT’S FUCKIN’ AMAZING!” Lambert practically jumped on Eskel, and Geralt sauntered over to put an arm around his shoulder. “You call Dad yet?”

“No, I want to wait. I want to make sure this time. Don’t wanna get his hopes up. Plus he’s... well, he’s a bit younger—“

Lambert cut him off, “Whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there. What do you always do?”

“Self-sabotage.”

“Exactly. So shut up with that shit. You like him, yes?”

“Yes. Definitely, very much.”

“And he likes you.”

“Well I mean—“

“That wasn’t a question. He likes you. End of discussion. He’s an adult, let him decide what he wants. Geralt?”

“Surprisingly sound logic, coming from you. Frightening, actually.”

Eskel nodded along as his brothers bickered back and forth. He felt like he was floating on air, without a tether to the ground.

“Oh, fuck, he’s really gone for him isn’t he?” Lambert muttered, watching Eskel’s eyes glaze over once more.

Eskel smirked and shook his head, “Fuck off, Lambert.” He playfully shoved his brother’s head to the side and went to count out the till and take it downstairs. He just sat down by the safe when his phone pinged.

Free for dinner day-after-tomorrow, playing a gig tomorrow night and Friday. Which would you prefer first?

Eskel smiled and typed out a response of his own, sending it before he could rethink it. Could I come to tomorrow’s gig and take you to dinner Thursday? I really want to see you again.

He felt his breath immediately quicken, but his hand was steady as he waited for a reply.

*...*

Oh Jesus God please just reply...

Gig tomorrow is at 8:30, Gibson’s Pub in Corktown. $5 cover and also $5 Mill St. on tap. Dinner on Thursday it is. Not fussy, but nothing too spicy. Your choice 😊

Not quite sure what we should do for dinner, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I won’t miss it for the world. Meanwhile, Eskel knew exactly where he’d be going for dinner. He shot off a text to his father and requested a quiet table for 2 at his restaurant. Papa Vesemir never asked too many questions, but he knew he’d have to explain later.

If you have the opportunity to save the world rather than listen to me play Wonderwall at someone’s request, please do. You can hear that literally any time you want.

For my favorite son, what wouldn’t I do?

Eskel replied to both: That’s a tall order. Watching you begrudgingly play Wonderwall could let me die a happy man.

Thanks, Pops. I know you’re not working that night, just tell Giulio nothing fancy, okay? Just a normal two-top.

Eskel’s phone dinged twice more: Oh my gods, you really are trying to kill me aren't you? You’re too sweet ;)

Mhm.

Eskel continued on with Julian, content with leaving Vesemir to finish his night. Don’t get me wrong, there would be a deep amusement in knowing how much you definitely hate that song by now.

Oh, I absolutely despise it and it needs to go die horribly in a dumpster somewhere. At least now I’ll have a confidante tomorrow evening. You know, someone to really share my suffering with.

Will you play any of your originals?

Would you like me to?

Only if you want. I understand if you’d rather not share them right away.

Julian was quickly realizing the extent to which he had, very much, struck a gold mine. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what was waiting around the corner to make things not work out This Time. But he shoved those thoughts back. I share my music every week with people who’ve either heard it all before, or are too distracted to really care. Mostly Tinder dates trying to gain hipster points. Please. I would be so happy to know you’re there and actually wanting to listen.

Eskel felt his heart flutter in his chest as he rested his elbows on the desk with a crooked smile.

I can’t wait, I’m sure they’re wonderful :) Eskel wasn’t really one to use emojis, but this one just kinda...slipped out.

He was whistling by the time he got to the top of the stairs and his brothers were already waiting for him, jackets on, lights out, floors mopped, door ready to be locked.

“Dinner? Eskel said, trying to wipe what he knew was a stupid grin off his face.

“Where to, lover boy?”

Eskel deferred to Geralt, “Hmmm. China down?”

“Mother Dumpling?” Eskel offered, pulling his collar up as they headed out, Geralt and Lambert sounding their agreement. With the cafe door closed and locked, the three brothers headed out into the evening.

#eskel/jaskier #jaskel #fluff #coffeeshop au #modern au

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