#i’d rather them all just stop talking to me and for me to be solidly alone instead of this horrible fucking standstill

[stunfiskz]

#txt #erm….. tonight is not good today was not good. #got even more confirmation that my friends hate me so that’s nice. #the only one i think still doesn’t hate me had no problem texting in the group chat i’m not fucking in with everyone but me while i was #right there. and telling me about it. so. #and i now know at least one of them hates me and thinks i hate them. but i don’t and i feel so bad because i know i’m horrible at talking. #i know. i know i’m a horrible person to try to talk to because i’m selfish and annoying and say the wrong things and i know. i didn’t mean #to make them feel uncomfortable but i can’t just be a fucking normal person #i really can’t stand this anymore i really can’t #i’d rather them all just stop talking to me and for me to be solidly alone instead of this horrible fucking standstill #i know. i know i’m a horrible person. i know they don’t love me and i know i don’t deserve for them to love me so why are they pretending #like they still do. #im just so tired of this i’m so tired of having to exist in this stupid fucking world where i know i’m awful and can’t do anything right an #don’t deserve to be able to. #and i feel so bad because the girl i’ve been helping in one of my classes is going to fail. and i feel like if i could just be better or h #have started helping her earlier or stood up for her to the teacher she wouldn’t. but instead i have to be horrible at comforting people #and have to try to comfort her while she’s sobbing because her parents aren’t going to let her drive #and i just feel so awful #im so awful my school is so awful i don’t want to fucking be here. #i cannot wait for the year to be over at least i can be alone in my room and not have to annoy anyone or hurt anyone #well i still probably will because that’s just how i fuckign am but. hopefully less . #anyways gonna rewatch some more glee i guess

[avocado-writing]

Hi bestie. I would love some angst with Astarion and Tav(reader) where a shape changer turns into one of them to hurt the other and the aftermath of the hurt and the victim convinced it was real until they talk it through and make up? Sorry if that didnt really make sense

notes: none! just some angst set start of act 3. rating: T

pairing: Astarion x reader

You have a horrid feeling in the pit of your stomach as Astarion appears before you. Withers senses something in the air, something loaded, and decides to turn and count his coin; he doesn’t want to interrupt what’s about to come. 

Or more likely he doesn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. 

The way Astarion is staring at you… gods. You feel a tight grip in your chest as a thousand emotions flit over his face. Hurt. Betrayal. Anger. Confusion. Before you can open your mouth he shoves past you, making a beeline for his tent. 

“Astarion, wait - !”

He doesn’t, so you have to jog a little to keep up. Go to put a hand on his arm, think better of it. Don’t want to upset him any further with unwanted physical touch. 

“Please - ”

“Oh, now you want to talk? Suddenly changed your mind after treating me like a bloody pincushion? I thought you were…” he trails off for a second, before finishing with, “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” he sneers, eyes solidly focussed in front of him, acting as if you weren’t even there. 

That stings. But of course he’s angry, he doesn’t know the whole story. You battle through the hurt and manage to stand in front of him, blocking his path and finally getting him to meet your gaze. 

“It wasn’t me! It was a gods-damned Doppelganger!”

He stops. Good. That got his attention.  

Your mind flits back to the other night, the horrid scene as your adventuring party for the day made it back to camp, when you figured all your companions were asleep - a horrid, faux-copy of you with a deadly blade sunk deep into your vampire’s neck. Given the secluded nature of the spot, the “two of you” may have been in the middle of a private moment. He was ripped open from several stab wounds, pale body bathed in garnet blood, and after a loud fight woke the rest of the camp… 

Well. After that everyone worked on bringing him back as quickly as possible, even though you were shaking from shock and sobs. 

Astarion searches your face. He’s looking for a tell. He’s looking for the slightest indication that you actually were the one tearing him to pieces. You want to tell him how stupid that is. Of course you’d never hurt him, change your mind and try to dispose of him in the worst way you could (and if you did, why bring him back?) You’d hoped he’d trusted you more than that. But, being in Baldur’s Gate, with Cazador so close… well, it’s no wonder that nerves are frayed. Logic has gone out the window until he can be forced to hear it.

“It must have been Orin. You know how she’s been hounding us. She probably saw how close we were, and decided to… well, try to hit us where it would hurt. And I hate it. I hate that she used my body to trick you like that.”

Ah. That he understands. You can see Astarion turn this over in his mind, and with a small exhale he releases all the tension in his body. The obvious relief is quickly plastered over with a light laugh and the affectation of his usual laissez-faire attitude. 

“Oh. Well. Don’t I look like quite the fool, hmm? You know what they say about assumptions. They make an ass of you and… well, I’d say me, but usually that’s usually a rather difficult accomplishment.”

He’s trying to hide how genuinely hurt he was. The idea that you could turn on him broke him a little, you think. That you’d use him and discard him so casually… it breaks your heart. Carefully you reach out to take his hand. You feel him flinch just a tiny bit but he accepts the gesture. 

“I’m so sorry she got to you. I won’t let it happen again. I’d never, ever hurt you, Astarion. You know that I…”

The end of that sentence hangs between you, heavy, pregnant. But thankfully, rather than chasing the end of it, Astarion pulls you to him. His arms wrap around you and you feel the softness in his embrace. 

“I know. I know you do.”

And you hold him. Knowing you’d move the cosmos to keep him safe. 

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #my writing #Request

[fast-moon]

My Ranking of the MCU TV Shows So far

So, with Ms. Marvel having wrapped up last week, I figured I’d see where it lands on my ranking of the MCU Disney+ shows before we get She-Hulk (and, uh, I Am Groot, I guess) in a month.

These are completely subjective personal preferences that no one asked for, but I felt like writing them out.  So, ranked from least-favorite to favorite, these were my thoughts:

(spoilers for all shows)

7. Loki

I was somehow, like, not engaged with Loki at all.  I’m fine with Loki as a character, but this show felt like it was just running solely on name recognition and the popularity of the character rather than because it had anything interesting to do or say about said character.  Loki gets dissociated from the time stream in Endgame due to stealing the Tesseract that the time-traveling Avengers were trying to steal, and then gets picked up by the time and space police for violating the timeline.  But instead of destroying him like they usually do with variants, they decide, “Hey, what if we made Loki a time and space detective working under this agency?  That totally is a natural continuation of his plot and character arc until now.”  Then Loki meets a female variant of himself and they go around doing... stuff.  And then he meets an alligator version of himself, isn’t that funny?  For the whole thing, I couldn’t stop asking, “What in this story necessitates its main character be Loki?  This role could have been filled by anyone since it in no way explores anything fundamental about him or his journey.”

And so naturally, it’s the only live-action show so far confirmed to be getting a second season.

6. What If...?

This show had a couple of episodes that I really liked, including the first two with Captain Carter and T’Challa Star Lord, and the Doctor Strange one.  The rest of the episodes were pretty forgettable and gave me the same feeling as Loki: “What are they trying to say here?”  For alternate universe stuff like this, I think it’s strongest where we get to see how the same character behaves when put in a situation different from the one that happened in the original timeline, to see what they’re really made of.  Some episodes managed that well.  Others were just “Here’s a random scenario that we’ve inserted Avengers characters into and nobody is behaving like themselves.”  Pretty much the only thing learned from this series is that Tony always dies and never trust Hank Pym.

And naturally, it’s the bottom two on my list that are confirmed for a season 2.

5. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

This one and the next two are actually fairly closely tied, and all three solidly above the previous two, but I needed to order them somehow, so at least for today, this is the order.  Unlike Loki which never felt like anything in it necessitated Loki’s presence specifically, this series revolved around who should take up the mantle of Captain America after Steve Rogers’s retirement.  So this is a story that specifically needs Sam and Bucky.  And then the Captain America mantle ends up being passed to some other unknown guy, John Walker, after Sam and Bucky are both hesitant to take it.  And from there we get a story of what it means to be Captain America and what kind of person deserves to wield the shield.  Which is great, I liked that, and there was a lot of talk on race and discussing how Black soldiers were treated.  Isaiah Bradley was absolutely the best part of this series.  Unfortunately, the series mostly suffered from some fairly bland protagonists who didn’t become interesting until Zemo showed up.  Yes, the forgettable antagonist from Captain America: Civil War was the most interesting man in the room here.  Coupled with some antagonists in the Flag Smashers who started out strong and relatable, then all of a sudden shot themselves in the foot out of nowhere because the writers were like, “Wait, we can’t have the viewers actually siding with these guys, they need to do some undeniably evil stuff for no reason”, and then their motives just fell apart.

4. Ms. Marvel

So, I’m a sucker for family dynamic stories that don’t revolve around toxic familial dysfunction, so this was already pretty wholesome going in.  That and Iman Vellani wasn’t even acting, she just is Kamala Khan in real life.  But this was a series that while the parents were still treated as obstacles to Kamala embracing her powers and her love for superheroes, they were never portrayed as the bad guys.  Pretty much everything involving the family, the wedding, the Partition of India backstory, was just really enjoyable to watch.  This was another series where we were given a story from a cultural angle that was different from what we often see, which was refreshing and fun.  I also enjoy the “street level” stories from superhero universes to see how the regular civilians live in a world where superheroes and monsters and aliens are real.  This show’s main failing was, again, its villains.  It tried to give us too many, from Department of Damage Control to Clan Destine, and then not really know what to do with either of them or what their motives were.  But Kamala will be back in The Marvels next year, as the post-credits teaser indicated, so I can’t wait to see how she fangirls over actually meeting her idol.

3. Moon Knight

Steven Grant is a precious bean and must be protected at all costs.  That’s it.  That’s Moon Knight. In seriousness, though, I enjoyed how this series tackled the issue of dissociative identity disorder, not just as a gimmick, but really delving into why he has it in the first place and why it manifests the way it does.  I also really loved the directing of the personality shifts, and Oscar Isaac just nails everything in this.  He probably gives the best performance out of all of the shows.  And I think the villain in this show is probably the best out of all the shows, too, in that his motive remains consistent throughout and that he is a valid and relevant threat.  There’s also the mystery element running through it as to why everything is happening that gets revealed in pieces.  So why is it only #3?  Well, it goes back to the first line.  Steven Grant single-handedly carries this show, while pretty much everyone else in it is meh.  And that still is a tribute to Oscar Isaac where he can play such a compelling character AND such a dull character at the same time in the same scene.

2. Hawkeye

Hey, you know how I mentioned earlier how I’m all for wholesome family shit, and now there’s Christmas hijinx mixed in and general goofiness that doesn’t detract from the underlying serious story?  Sign me up for that.  Hawkeye was one of those Avengers who was always in the background who I was like, “I guess he’s all right” about, and this show recognizes that and runs with it.  To me he was always like the put-upon Avengers dad who keeps wanting to retire but those damn kids can’t keep the world saved for five goddamn minutes!  And now he might be missing Christmas with his family because of it, aaagh!  There’s some phenomenal directing in the middle couple episodes (Bert and Bertie, get them in more stuff now), and there was serious discussion around Clint’s hearing loss and how it affected his everyday life.  As someone with a deaf family member who lost his hearing at an advanced age and never learned to sign, the scene of writing the conversation out on notepads was super relatable to me and also heartbreaking.  Then we had Yelena brought in from Black Widow to have some fun banter with Kate Bishop.  This one will probably become a yearly Christmas tradition.

1. Wandavision

Hawkeye and Ms. Marvel had wholesome silly family shit, Moon Knight had a respectful look into devastating untreated mental health issues, and Wandavision has all of that and more.  It has that wholesome exterior that’s hiding something dark, but the darkness isn’t just there for shock value, it is something that is naturally to be expected after what happened to Wanda in Infinity War and Endgame.  The creative set pieces and setting aren’t used as just a gimmick, but as an allegory for Wanda’s coping mechanisms as she attempts to process her grief after losing her entire support structure.  And then Vision is just my comfort character archetype: strong, calm, intelligent, humble, and most of all gentle and kind.  The guy who’ll just sit with you and let you talk out your problems without being judgmental.  Anyone who’s had someone like that in their life would be devastated to lose them, especially so unfairly.  Where this show starts to falter is when it tries to rein itself back into tried and true MCU format, with a finale that, while still having some excellent emotional and philosophical beats such as Vision defeating his alter ego diplomatically, it does still devolve into a CG explosion-fight that didn’t really need to happen.  And as charming as Kathryn Hahn was as a secondary character, much like Loki I’m not certain she can carry her own story, with Agatha: House of Harkness set to air in the next year or two.  And don’t get me started on how Wandavision elegantly handled a woman having a mental breakdown without simply resorting to the “crazy emotional woman” trope, and then Doctor Strange: Multiverse of Madness... didn’t.

#wandavision #hawkeye #moon knight #ms marvel #fatws #loki #what if

[tf2workbench]

Sniping: a difficult job

By now, more than a few people have talked to me about the features of the Sniper as a class. I understand that at least a few prominent community figures have issued their own opinions. Am I prominent? God, no, but at least I’m competent (or so I’m led to believe). I want to give some input on the burning question that’s been on people’s minds: is the Sniper overpowered?

Short answer: You’re asking the wrong question.

Let me explain. It’s not that overpowered/underpowered don’t matter; it’s very important that TF2 is roughly balanced. However, equal power levels are not the final goal. The goal is to have a fun game, and power levels are an important way - but not the only way - of bringing that about.

The reason this is relevant to the Sniper is because I often see the debate centered around whether Snipers can be countered. At least three discussions have gone “But what about Spies?” > “Team support protects from Spies” > “What if the Spy is really good?” in an almost circular manner. This is correct; the Sniper does have weaknesses, and those weaknesses can be ameliorated. That’s inherent to all classes.

I will also not deny that a skilled Sniper is proooobably the scariest single enemy I could face in battle. The ability to instantly kill at range, especially in a game where no other class has many options that work from far away, is very powerful. And as we’ve seen from the recent bot crisis, the theoretical limit to what a sniper can mechanically accomplish is very, very high.

However, I want to move beyond that. When people say something is overpowered, they’re often communicating a subtext: “I don’t enjoy playing against [this thing].”

Although we’re all wired a bit differently, there are some things that, broadly speaking, TF2 players don’t enjoy. And playing against a sniper can hit some particular buttons:

People don’t usually like to die with no forewarning. We see this not just with Sniper headshots but with Spy backstabs, sticky traps, and random crits.

They also don’t like feeling trapped or restricted. We see this complaint with poorly-designed maps, but also with sentry guns, sticky traps (again), and Sniper sightlines.

A good way to mitigate this frustration (mostly for the second point) is to make these problems solvable rather than insurmountable. You’ll notice that sentries have range limitations and health pools, and stickies can be moved/destroyed. Think of how awful it would be if neither could be removed at all!

Snipers, of course, can be killed or evaded. However, because simply seeing them means you’re potentially in danger, it can feel hopeless to deal with them.

Now, I’ve never met an invincible sniper, even with all the skill in the world and a great team to back them up. But if you die once or twice to them, it can feel impossible to stop them. Even if they’re not infallible, by threatening a swift death at any range, they demand to be treated as if they are; the risk if you don’t give them space is too serious. This feeling of despair can be extremely frustrating; it’s as if this one enemy sniper is denying you the enjoyment of playing the game. Few other classes have that ability, and none can do it at any range the way the Sniper can.

How would I fix this? That assumes it needs to be fixed, which I don’t have a strong opinion on. I’d lean towards “yes,” for the reasons I discussed above, but we must also consider that TF2 has been one of the most popular shooter games in the world even with the frustrations caused by the Sniper. While that’s not to say that players haven’t been lost because of these issues, nor is it to assume that popularity = good design, I think we can safely say that Team Fortress 2 is a solidly designed game. The Sniper might not be perfect, but I cannot in good conscience say that a class that has been about the same for fifteen years “must” or even “should” be changed. And I will also say that many people, many of them more skilled than I, have probably considered this same question; my answer is not the end-all-be-all, but rather an answer among many. Heck, it’s not my only answer, either; it’s just the one I consider best.

That being said, I think that the following changes to the sniper rifles would make them both more entertaining to play against and more entertaining to use.

Revised Sniper Rifle (+) Carries two shots in a clip, and reloads the whole clip at once. No need to unscope between shots unless reloading. 0.4-second interval between shots. (+) Full charge takes 50% as much time (from 3.3 seconds to 1.15) (+/-) Experiences damage rampup and falloff, up to 125% at close range and down to 75% at long range. “Base” range is 1024 hammer units (double that of all other weapons). (-) Headshot damage reduced from 300% of base to 200% of base (100 uncharged, 200 fully charged) (-) Maximum charged damage reduced to 200% of base from 300% (100 on full-charge bodyshot, 200 on full-charge headshot) (-) Reload time increased by 33% (from 1.5 seconds to 2)

The big thing we lose with this revised rifle is the satisfaction of getting one clean, instantly fatal headshot. While I’m sure some snipers will find this infuriating, I believe it may be necessary to make the rifle less frustrating to play against. There is also a great satisfaction in scoring two headshots in quick succession; while they’re not as clean as just one, they give a powerful positive feedback response. That is the main downside I see to this change.

On the flip side, it is much less frustrating for the target to deal with. It drastically reduces the frequency of instant kills, and the damage scaling makes it so long ranges are less punishing to fight at.

I think it would also be more fun for the user. Snipers, especially inexperienced ones, often feel pressure to stay back, out of the fight, and wait long periods of time to charge up their rifle. This version inserts a little more dynamism: the two shots make the rifle a little more forgiving, the damage rampup rewards users for getting into the fight, and the quicker charge limits the time you spend waiting. 

If you want me to simplify it: I’ve made the rifle more combat-focused and increased its skill floor while altering what “ideal” performance is.

Conclusion This is by far the largest change I’ve ever worked on for this blog, and I know it might not suit your tastes, but I hope it’s been interesting and thought-provoking to read. Of course, nothing but playtesting could determine how people felt about this weapon, and I haven’t even begun to explore it in theory; but this is a start. Thank you so much for bearing with me. 

It would also mean the world to me if you were to reply/reblog/message me with your thoughts - I spoke earlier about how I’m only one person, and I strongly believe that your collective input can help advance all our knowledge of TF2. Again, thank you.

#tf2workbench #tf2 #team fortress 2 #sniper

[florilegiumofblips]

I remember feeling on the edge of so very much at this time last year. The very physical sensation that things were just beginning. Some yet-unnamed critical shift having taken place--or taking place. And the feeling that sense was about to sweep in and create an order out of chaos.  

One May evening, I wore a cetrine dress and gold shoes and went to a very fancy, very large party. But the hotel was crowded and messy and before long I was covered in champagne, watching small fights break out, suddenly craving the comfort of home.

 Three weeks later a man who would never leave me left me at the airport. It is the story I tell more than any other. Because with its perfect narrative arc, and extreme circumstances, it makes for very good, very easy storytelling. But it is not the story. Not really. What I don’t talk about is how eleven days before, I was unkind to the one person I actually adored--a man who looked at me like no one ever had before. It was a self-preservation thing. But we never really recovered. It was a fleeting, fragmented moment. And yet it is my greatest regret of this last, terrible, mess of a year.

2016 swept in, a tidal wave of chaos. The year itself a vociferous declaration that it be heard, and I be changed. But nothing changed me more than that moment, right at the start--that very quiet moment when kindness was offered and I wasn’t courageous enough to take it. How differently it all might have gone.

But we learn how we learn.

Now, of course, I’d reach out with both hands--open, sweaty palms facing up. Because his kindness was worth my reveal.

That year was a thing.

Uncomfortable and messy and at moments nearly unbearable, but important. Even as it was happening, I knew it was important.

But I couldn’t say how. Couldn’t round my lips around any set of words that made any good sense of the whole thing.

But then two days into spring, I sent him a text.

I'm letting go. Letting go of the desire for stability. For the known. Making peace with the grey and the murk and what is so clearly unclear. And you know what? The very action of doing that...well, suddenly I feel more secure. More like I'm solidly on my own axis. A stability that emanates from my very core. And holy shit, it feels good. Because it enables risks. And risks are good, too. It's like skiing--the more control you give up, the more you have.

So the lesson of this last year?

I don’t know.

Oh gosh, sorry--that’s unclear.

Not that I don’t know the lesson of this last year, but rather I don’t know anything. I don’t know what’s coming or where I’m going or what’s around the corner. And so the sense will wait. And maybe the point of the chaos isn’t for it to be ordered and explained, but for it to simply be.

 I. Don’t. Know.

 I don’t know, and yet I’m okay.

 I don’t know, but no rush.

 I don’t know, but I don’t need to.

At a bar one night, late in May, a good friend accused me of chapter-titling my life.

You’re writing the titles to your story, labeling what they are and how they’ll go before they even happen. Stop it.

Immediately I knew he was right. I knew because he is smarter than me and cooler than me and never flinches when telling the truth.

Finally, more than ten years after reading these words for the first time, I understand them. Not because I have lived my way into the answers, but because I have lived my way into the questions. Which somehow feels more important.

 I’m still learning that very rarely do we know what’s coming, even--and most especially--when we think we do, and happiness has a remarkable way of catching us unaware.

Not that happiness is the point. But certainly it is a part of it--and a very good part, at that.

I don’t know what’s around the corner, but something is--because such is the inevitability of life.

2016 made me sturdier. Which actually means softer. Which actually means clearer and less afraid.

And letting go of the desire to make things known has much to do with letting go of expectations and attachments, which means I am more adept, and more sure of who I am.

So here I am on the brink of more unknown, but with hands open, palms exposed, willing to try again.

And again.

And again.

[liesoverthec]

the post hasn't surfaced yet so please use this ask to talk abt the objectification of the 911 men!!

Ahh May you’re too nice but also thank you, I’m gonna 😂💛

This got. CRAZY long bc I just had a million thoughts so I’m gonna stick it under a cut.

To be honest, I think the reason they do *any* sort of objectification at all is that middle aged and older viewers are used to being able to objectify actors to a certain extent. Lord knows it happens on literally every other single piece of media, and this is a mainstream broadcast show, not an indie series or the likes, so I think they have to cater to those people as well as us, and the WAY they do it is so interesting to me bc even when they’re doing it, they use it as a way to drive home other, deeper messages.

For starters, I feel like the show OG was trying to be in the pilot and the first few episodes would have objectified the men WAY more than we see now if there hadn’t been that shift in tone - the sex addict plot could have been SO much more extended and given us a lot more opportunities to see Buck shirtless and to objectify him and his body. So I find it SO interesting that around the same time as Bobby opening up about his family and his past, we also stop w/ Buck being blatantly shirtless all the time. Narratively, it signals to me the point where the writers moved away from the the typical tv show that will treat their actors like meat, and moved more into a “female gaze” show. And then what’s really interesting to me, is that for Buck, after that, when he has sex w Taylor Kelly in s2, both times we NEVER see him undressed. The second time they don’t get very far, but he’s wearing a buttonable shirt. He absolutely could have been wearing that shirt closed, and she could have opened it, and he could have been wearing nothing underneath it, and we would have seen his chest again in a sexy scenario - but they didn’t. In fact they made the DELIBERATE choice to give him an undershirt. And of course with the first time they cut away and just left us w the understanding that sex was happening, yet again taking away an opportunity to show O.S. at least partially undressed. Which is SO different from how s1 goes about it, where we actually see Buck w his shirt open and his underwear exposed MULTIPLE times. So it’s so incredibly interesting to me that while none of the (main/regular) women’s stories are ever about sex like Buck’s is, I also think it’s REALLY interesting that the objectification of the men was, and could have been, much worse and that they didn’t have to move away from that, but they did.

But then secondly! The very last time we get into a plot that revolves around the men’s bodies specifically is in 2x01, which is SUCH an interesting plot. Surface level - it’s just about the men competing about who’s more attractive, and we get lots of muscle flexing and hot manliness to go along with it. And it is, at a surface level, incredibly shallow. But simultaneously they use it to 1. Introduce the idea that Buck wasn’t a sex addict bc he was “dealing w the stress of the job” like s1 mostly implied. It was bc he’s desperate to feel useful and wanted by someone, and at that point he really wanted that acceptance within the firehouse, rather than from other people. (Bc lbr, Abby didn’t do shit for Buck. It was Bobby, opening up and accepting the family, and specifically Buck, that gave him the connection he’d been seeking through sex.) And then 2. They also use it as an opportunity to SPECIFICALLY, IN CANON, say that it’s what you do that makes you attractive, and that makes you a hero, not how you look. Which is just!!! A crazy message!!! Especially considering they follow through on it, particularly in the areas where the women are concerned!

And in regards to 2x01, it’s soooooo fucking interesting to me that the ONLY time we really truly see Eddie shirtless, he’s actually putting clothes ON. They literally do the opposite trope of 'giving the hot male an excuse to take his shirt off'. And sure, they make it a sexy moment, but there's absolutely interesting commentary there about him actively covering himself up at the moment he is most sexualized, and it being taken as a sexy thing. Something about how you don't have to be naked to be attractive, it's about your intent in your actions, rather than your physical body. (Probably me reading too far into it, but again, they COULD have had him striping off his regular shirt, a good few seconds of him shirtless digging through a bag, and THEN the sexy slow mo pulling shirt on. At the very least, when they objectify him there, they make it MUCH shorter than they could have, which is SO DAMN INTERESTING to me).

But then finally, we still do have shirtless scenes! But the fact that it’s Chim who’s shirtless is just SO FASCINATING. Bc THE WAY THEY DO IT - they're never dunking Chim in a lake, or having something spilled on him, like other shows would do, to get his shirt clinging to him and him to whip it off in a spray of water or whatever. It's in scenes where it makes sense for him to be shirtless, and its NEVER treated like a big deal. It's just Chim, in his body, comfortably living his life. So I think the way they do it gives him more respect than other shows give their male characters, let alone their female characters 💀

And it's SO interesting to me that they use Chim (I mean, besides the fact that K.C. clearly has muscles for days and wow of course you'd use Chim). But I just think - on any other show, it would absolutely be Buck who we see casually shirtless. And that WAS almost this show, which is why we saw him shirtless at all. But failing that, it should have been Eddie. And then of course, after Eddie, it should be Bobby. I mean, plenty of other shows go for the 'sexy middle-aged white man' (cough cough LS) so Bobby would be the next logical step in the "who are we gonna make our hot man?" ladder, also - P.K. has BICEPS THAT COULD CRUSH ME so I would not blame them for making him the hot one.

But - like I said in my tags on my original post - I'm always thinking about Chim's story in 2x01 with the calendar, and feeling like he never gets to be the hero (WHICH I COULD GO ON AND ON ABOUT HOW BEING THE HERO IS EQUATED THERE TO BEING THE HOT ONE, SO LIKE, CHIM BEING SHIRTLESS, SUBTLE REINFORCEMENT OF HIM BEING A HERO!) I love that for him, being the truly hot one on the team. And then you throw in his story from 2x04, and feeling like his life wasn't going anywhere and seeing him now, comfortable in his body and his life and being happy??

I wish no one had to be objectified and shirtless but I know this is broadcast tv, and honestly, the choice for it to be Chim, with his story and his background, in itself is I think a choice that makes me happy.

Of course, the show is nowhere near perfect, and I’d argue that it’s one of the areas they fall shortest in. Buck sleeping w his therapist would never have happened for a woman on this show, and it CERTAINLY wouldn’t have been brushed off again as a joke like it was in s3. And it really bothered me in 4x07 when the lady slapped Eddie’s ass, esp since he was clearly uncomfortable with it. I’d actually really enjoy seeing them write a plot for one of the men that addresses them feeling oversexualized as firefighters, and how people seem to think they have permission since the men are all public employees, bc I think the show could do it really well, and I think it’s an area that hasn’t been addressed on other shows recently (plus lbr I know I’m biased but I think OG would do it better if it has been done…)

So idk. I don’t know if I have a solid conclusion here. The show does SUCH a good job with the women, and a solidly less good job with the men - but I also see some really interesting choices at work that I really respect.

Thanks for the opportunity May, sorry if there was no coherent thread to this. 😂🤷‍♀️

#911 fox #asked and answered #evan buckley #eddie diaz #chimney han #the one area re:the men I think they do super super well in #is the fact that none of them experience or act w any sort of toxic masculinity #we’ve seen all of them cry MULTIPLE times #and they’re comfortable being vulnerable w both men and women #and none of their personalities are built are ‘hello I am a MAN’ #which I really really like and enjoy

[mercifulbutbroken]

Well, if your looking for prompts... can we have some Triple Threat with Ellie being protective of Henry and Charles? Romantic or platonic, doesn't matter to me.

Thanks so much for the prompt! It's been far too long. Hope you enjoy! Also on AO3!

“ I’m telling you, I’m fine! “

Ellie, who was standing by the doorway of the tiny apartment, hands on her hips, staring as Henry was furiously signing back to her. Feet planted solidly on the rug, purposefully distancing themself away from her. Ellie huffed, taking a step forward, trying to get closer to Henry.

“ Hen, listen to me, you are not fine. You came home yesterday, sobbing- something very much fucking happened, just talk to me- “

Henry let out a panicked noise, grabbing at a random throw pillow behind them, gripping at it tightly. Ellie stopped stepping forward, hands raised.

“ Hey, okay… I won’t come any closer to you. Do you want some time for yourself? “

A nod, with a small noise confirming.

“ Alright… I do have to get my bag, I’m just going to…. “ Ellie reached out for her purse, and quickly backed up, yanking it over her shoulder. Henry kept watching her, slowly crawling onto the couch, folding their legs up in front of themselves. They pulled the neck of their sweater up, leaving only two eyes peeking out from the fabric. Ellie gave a small smile at that, digging around her bad for keys. “ I have to go pick up Charles, you stay here. Just… “ She looked up, eyes finally meeting Henry’s. “ …. We’re talking about this later. You’re not keeping that in your head all alone. “

And with that, the door was opened, Ellie passing through, and closed and locked once more. Then, the footsteps sped up, lingering as she paced down the hall. Heavy steps, finding purchase outside. As Ellie yanked the car door open with a tad bit too much force…. All that she could think about is who hurt her friend. And just a half-hour later…

“ What?! Are you kidding me?! “

Charles winced, trying to get Ellie to quiet down, the customers in the small shop turning to stare.

“ Ells, shush, I’m still in work- “ “ Charles, why didn’t you tell me that you knew who that was? She hurt Hen- I swear I’m going to… “ Charles had to grab at Ellie’s arm, holding her at the small corner table that they were situated at before she would storm out.

“ Ellie, listen- I know you want to… er “ Charles hesitated, letting go, allowing Ellie to sit down again. “ … ‘ talk ‘ … to them, but I’d rather not have another attempted murder… “ Yeah, the last time someone tried to hurt Charles in work… Ellie was not too happy. Neither were the severely injured, but admittedly rude customers. Charles sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. That was a long night.

“ Look, they have already been banned from the store, so no- I will not let you be shoved into a jail cell again- “

“ I don’t fucking care if I’m stuck in a cell for the night, those fuckers have to PAY! They made Henry CRY! “

“ Ellie! Calm down- I’m telling you, they were banned- they’re not coming back- “

The door chimed, and a loud voice cut through the relatively quiet diner, platinum blonde hair cut at a harsh angle, makeup caked on.

Ellie turned to stare at Charles, who groaned and placed their face in their hands.

And just as soon as Ellie was yelling at the woman, fists raised, Charles and Ellie found themselves in the police station, Ellie cuffed, fists a bit red. Charles stood next to her, wrapping his jacket over her shoulders.

“ So who should we call? “

“ … I’d call Henry, but I feel safer in jail “

#henry stickmin series #MercyWrites #Henry Stickmin #thsc #henry stickmim collection #Charles Calvin #Ellie Rose #Ellie can and will kicks ANYONES ass if they hurt her boys #writing #writing prompts #prompts

[rainingpouringetc]

so hug all your friends and let them know you’re not letting go

ch 4 - sing me a song, tell me your thoughts / i could listen to you all night long (pt 2)

read on ao3

The next morning was quite pleasant for Ariadne. She woke to find Grace already in the dining room—unusual for the girl who usually preferred to flit about like a ghost. They had stayed up until midnight the previous night exchanging stories of their childhoods. Ariadne had missed thinking of India. She had told Alastair about it at his request, and at hers he’d spoken of Persia. This had been different from that, though. This had been less about the place itself and more the family she’d left behind. Grace had left family, too—or had family leave her. The feeling was familiar; it pooled in Ariadne’s gut when she was left alone with the thoughts. Having someone to pick them apart with helped.

The girls ate breakfast together, chatting aimlessly about the weather and the food and anything else they could think of. Mr. and Mrs. Bridgestock were, graciously, away for the week. There was some business they were tending to somewhere else in the country. Ariadne had long since stopped trying to make sense of her father’s trips.

They stumbled awkwardly into a brief discussion of the day’s plans, finding that neither of them had any designs beyond breakfast.

“Well,” Ariadne said carefully, “would you perhaps like to train with me today, then? I could use a partner.”

Grace seemed taken aback. “Oh! Well, sure, I suppose. I must admit,” she said sheepishly, looking down at her plate, “I have very little in the way of training. I’m not sure I could be of much help to you.”

Ariadne brightened immediately. “Of course you can! I could teach you, if you like. I always thought the best way to practice something you already know is by teaching it to somebody else.”

“I agree,” Grace said with a smile.

They agreed to meet in the drawing room after changing into gear. Grace was surprisingly quick to go up the stairs, though she never lost that elegant smoothness in her stride. Ariadne lingered a moment in the dining room, her heart thumping painfully.

There were many thoughts going through her head, bumping into each other and leaving little space for much else. She barely knew Grace, and here she was offering to train her. Their friendship—if it could be called that—was moving awfully fast. Though, things had moved rather fast with Alastair as well. Perhaps they were all so starved for friendship that they were wiling to try to bond with anyone who showed the barest speck of interest.

That wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, after all.

Ariadne sighed and wished Alastair was there. He was better at this than she was, though one may not think it. If Alastair liked someone, or thought he did at least, he could keep a conversation going well enough. Ariadne had always struggled with small talk—it seemed so frivolous and unnecessary. She hoped Grace would feel the same.

When she and Alastair had first started testing their friendship, Ariadne had relied heavily on him to guide the conversation. He’d wanted to know about Anna, and she’d told him—then he’d told her about Charles before she could figure out if she was supposed to ask. He’d also mentioned Thomas vaguely, though how exactly he felt for the man hadn’t come out until much later.

Ariadne smiled fondly at the memories as she ascended the stairs and looked for her gear. Alastair was, surprisingly, a bit of a mess when it came to Thomas Lightwood. Usually so calm and collected, he stumbled over his words when he tried to explain what it was like falling for someone who hated him so thoroughly. It’s not as though it could ever work, anyway, Alastair had said with false casualness. I doubt Thomas is even interested in men.

Only one way to find out, she’d teased. It had earned her a pillow in the face, but it had certainly been worth it.

As she carefully slipped into her gear, she wondered, not for the first time, if perhaps this was what having a sibling was like. She and Alastair got on so well, it was almost a shock whenever she remembered they hadn’t really known each other all that well until a month ago.

A knock startled the memories from her grasp. She finished buckling all that need buckling and opened the door to find a sheepish Grace still in her morning dress. “I’m sorry to bother,” she said before Ariadne could so much as draw breath, “it’s just I’ve realized I don’t actually have any gear.”

Ariadne frowned. It had been quite a few minutes since Grace had disappeared upstairs—what had she been doing all this time?

Seeming to read the question on her face, Grace glanced at her hands and said, “I’d have said something sooner, it’s just… I’m sorry. I didn’t not want you to think less of me as a Shadowhunter.”

Most people did, Ariadne was coming to realize. 

She smiled as gently as she could and held open her door, gesturing for Grace to follow as she strode to the closet. “I’m sure I have some old gear that will fit you.” Grace was a few inches shorter than her, but sure enough, there was some gear she’d outgrown when she was fourteen at the very back. Ariadne pulled it out and handed it to Grace. “Do you need any help with it?” she asked.

Grace shook her head quickly. “No. Thank you for offering. I have worn it before, I simply have none of my own.”

“Well, now you do,” Ariadne said, indicating the gear in Grace’s hands.

Grace smiled, and it made her look much prettier, Ariadne thought. This was quite a feat, seeing as how she was already quite gorgeous. It was as though it thawed something in Grace’s features, making her seem warm and kind. Ariadne decided to make it a priority to make Grace smile more.

After Grace changed, they headed outside. Ariadne was increasingly excited about the prospect of training Grace.

She figured they could start with fighting stances, then move on to hand-to-hand, then staffs. 

Grace was surprisingly competent about stances and hand-to-hand for what little experience she’d claimed to have. They were able to move on from instruction quickly enough and begin sparring. Neither of them could quite get the advantage, Ariadne because she was holding back to spare Grace’s feelings, and Grace because she simply had no real experience. 

Eventually, Ariadne managed to hook her foot behind Grace’s knee and pull, causing her to fall flat on her back. Unfortunately, this put Grace in the prime position to grab Ariadne’s legs and bring her down as well. They collapsed on top of each other in a fit of giggles. 

“Truce?” Grace gasped, struggling to keep her composure as she struggled to a sitting position. She extended her hand.

Ariadne eyed it from where she was propped up on her elbows, then grasped it and shook solidly. “Truce.”

They giggled again, helped each other stand, and began brushing themselves off. There was a fair amount of dirt and grass stains on Grace’s gear; Ariadne made a mental note to help her clean it off later. 

“Pardon me, Miss Bridgestock,” came a soft, motherly voice from the house door. Ariadne turned to find their maid, Mrs. Webster, watching them with a smile. Her dark hair was streaked with gray—Ariadne wondered when that had happened. She could’ve sworn it hadn’t been that way earlier this year. “I don’t mean to interrupt, miss, but there’s a young man by the name Mr. Carstairs here to see you. He’s waiting in the drawing room whenever you finish.”

“Oh.” It was all she could say. She turned to find Grace’s face had gone cold again. “Do you mind wrapping up for the day?”

Grace looked at her with steely eyes. “That’s fine. I’ll be upstairs.”

“Oh. All right. Er—let me know if you need anything, then.” Before she had even finished speaking, Grace was turning on her heel and pushing past Mrs. Webster.

Confused and greatly disheartened by the sudden loss of all the progress she’d made with Grace, Ariadne followed the maid inside and began walking toward the drawing room. She was stopped by a hand gripping her shoulder and spun around sharply to find Mrs. Webster staring at her with what could only be described as horror. “Miss Bridgestock, you are not truly going to entertain company in your fighting gear, are you?”

Ariadne blinked at her and let out a laugh. “It’s just Alastair, Mrs. Webster.”

“Ohhh, just Alastair, is it?” Mrs. Webster’s next look was far too knowing for Ariadne’s liking.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said lightly. “He’s a friend. He probably just wants to talk for a bit, he won’t mind if I’m not dressed properly.”

“Your parents would mind,” Mrs. Webster replies meaningfully. “Especially after that whole ordeal with Mr. Fairchild and Miss Blackthorn—please, dear.” She gripped Ariadne’s arm. “For my peace of mind.”

It was a fair argument. Ariadne still had some semblance of a reputation to maintain. Figuring she might as well humor the old woman, Ariadne let out a sigh and headed toward the stairs. It took her several annoyingly long minutes to change out of her gear and find a suitable dress, and by the time she finished, she’d almost forgotten about Grace.

That was, until she stepped out of her room and found Grace glaring at her by the staircase, dressed in a dazzling display of lilac and silver. “I wish to speak to Alastair with you,” she said simply, then turned so fast her hair splayed out behind her and descended the stairs soundlessly as ever.

Ariadne followed, swallowing heavily and wondering what she was getting herself into. 

Alastair was standing already when they entered the room, examining the various paintings they had hanging on the walls. There was a jacket on the couch, which was odd—it wasn’t one that looked like it belonged to Alastair. He turned and, upon seeing Ariadne, did that thing where he very nearly smiled—his face relaxed and the corners of his mouth, rather than pointing down at an alarming angle, evened out into a straight line.

Then he caught sight of Grace, and his jaw tensed again. “Good morning Ariadne, Miss Blackthorn,” he nodded politely. His eyes lingered on Grace for a moment before he shot a displeased look at Ariadne. She shrugged, eyes wide, and gestured to the settee.

Alastair sat on the end farthest from the armchair Grace was occupying, gathering the strange jacket into his arms, leaving Ariadne to sigh irritatedly and sit in the middle of them to mediate. 

“How are you this morning, Alastair?” Ariadne asked blandly.

“Fine. Thank you.”

There was silence for a long moment.

Ariadne was about to comment on the weather—really, she should not have been allowed to ever attempt anything resembling small talk—when Alastair glanced and Grace, then back at her, and said, “Pardon me if this is out of line, but I had been hoping to discuss something privately with you, Ariadne. If this is a bad time, I can come by in the afternoon.”

He made to stand, but before he could, Grace interrupted, “Are you doing anything today, Mr. Carstairs?”

He looked stunned, the lowered himself back onto the couch. “Well, that’s actually what I wished to discuss with Ariadne. I did not want to be rude in excluding anyone from the conversation.”

Ariadne nearly winced at his tone. It was clear he had not wanted to include Grace in whatever he had planned.

“Just tell me,” she whispered. When Alastair glanced over her shoulder at Grace, she said, “It’s fine.”

Alastair sighed through nose and held up the jacket. “I ran into Christopher Lightwood last night.” A dozen questions raced through Ariadne’s head—where? when? why?—but before she could voice any of them, he was saying, “It’s a long story for another time, but I ended up with this—” he shook the jacket “—and I don’t know what to do.”

“The jacket is Christopher’s?” Ariadne questioned first.

“Thomas’s,” he corrected quietly.

Ariadne sucked in a breath and nodded in understanding. That would explain it, then.

“You should return it, then,” Grace said slowly. Alastair’s eyes slid over to hers blankly. “I could help, if you wish,” she continued, sitting up straighter. “Be a distraction. The Merry Thieves are far more cross with me than they are with you, I suspect.”

Ariadne looked between the two, waiting. After a few seconds, Alastair’s face softened again, and the corner of his mouth twitched up. “I would appreciate that. Thank you, Miss Blackthorn.”

“Please, Mr. Carstairs, call me Grace.”

Alastair narrowed his eyes even as he smiled. “Well. Then you must call me Alastair.”

Grace smiled fully, then, the warm smile from early that morning. Ariadne understood suddenly why the coldness had crept back when Mrs. Webster had announced Alastair’s arrival. She hadn’t wanted to be shut out by their friendship. The best solution, clearly, was to bring her into it, then.

“When do we leave?” Ariadne asked with an air of adventure, standing with her hands on her hips and looking between the two.

Alastair shrugged. “Now?”

They looked at Grace, who nodded, grinning. “Now.”

*hides* i’m sorry this took so long lol. pls tell me ur thoughts on mrs webster :) (more christopher to come i promise)

tagging @ohcoolnice @stxr-thxif @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @eugeniaslongsword @clockworknights @writeforjordelia @axoloteca @ninacarstairss @lifewouldbebetteronmars lmk if i forgot you or if you’d like to be added or if you want to be removed, i’m so disorganized at this point lol

#tlh #the last hours #tlh fanfic #ariadne bridgestock #kamala joshi #grace blackthorn #alastair carstairs #artie tries to write #shayf fic #this is unedited be nice to me

[fireemblems24]

Ok, so Dedue gets special treatment. I take no criticisms.

Honestly, having to wait to get them made it an event instead of getting to the first chapter of the time-skip and getting overwhelmed.

Here's me fangirling all over all his supports (sans Dimitri, whyyyyyy, I need Dimitri A-Supports too, and Shamir's is also weirdly time-locked)

Felix -

Holy shit, yes, Dedue is saying things I've wanted someone to say to this little ball of edgy angst .

"Is it really so unnatural to put one's life on the line to protect a brother in arms?"

Thank GOD there's finally another opinion about Glenn other than "He said he died like a true knight, so now I hate my dad."

Then Felix goes back to his dehumanizing and insulting (I love him, but damn he's soooo tonally stupid sometimes)

"Your insults are merely an attempt to avoid addressing me as what I am."

Another banger for Dedue. I haven't seen Felix put in his place this solidly since Seteth lol. But in a very Dedue and Seteth way (i.e. polite).

(really though, Felix is always deflecting complex emotions he's never learned to process by insulting people)

"But if you act like a fool and get yourself killed, I'll kill you too." Oh, Felix, never change. OMG he got so tsundere there at the end.

Though, I now headcannon CF!Felix decided to avoid getting killed protecting someone he loved by deciding to make sure there was no one he loved still alive to protect. Problem solved.

Annette -

Annette and Dedue are both so wholesome.

These two are actually well-matched. He'd give her a solid base, she'd force him to open up. He'd be calm when she panicked, she's brighten him up when he got too somber.

"I was hoping the food I made would bring a smile to your face." - That's like Linhardt levels of smooth. But then he blushes.

Dedue blushing 😊

Dedue is top-tier husbando material. I'm telling you. He can even cook.

Ashe -

So I had quite the unpopular opinion when my opinion of Ashe tanked seeing him fighting for Cornelia, who is ridiculously evil. But people seem to like Ashe/Dedue. I still don't because Dedue deserves someone who won't ever fight for the woman who murders him, but let's see how this goes . . .

By "father" who worked in a restaurant, he means his blood father, not Lonato, right? Because I just had a funny image in my head.

Dedue had a sister 😭

Ok - but Ashe on dead family - "That (a Heaven-like paradise) seems so far away. I'd rather they stayed here." - "On this episode of Ghost Hunters."

So their support is sweet and all but he still fights for Cornelia after she kills him, so, yeah, I can't ship it, sorry.

Ingrid -

So . . . this one should be interesting. I love Ingrid, but she needs to unlearn her racism.

Wow, she's chatting with him so normally. Good sign.

Dedue made a kid cry, lol. He's just a big teddy bear though - unless you threaten or talk shit about Dimitri.

Her opinion did a 180.

You know, I'm kind of glad this whole support chain wasn't about Dedue getting Ingrid to unlearn her racism. It was about Ingrid figuring it out by humanizing what she thought of as "other." It always seems icky to me when a racism plot line revolves around the victim having to convince the victimizer to stop.

No one called Dedue a "wonderful person" before. 😭

To be fair to everyone else, Dedue's made it very hard to know him since he avoids being friends. Someone needs to give this man all the hugs, and I will volunteer.

Flayn-

I expect more cooking lol

Called it, Flayn made more cooking disasters

OMG he told her to her face her food tasted awful, but knows she tried. He's so sweet.

So now Dimitri and Dedue are the only ones who eat Flayn's cooking

This was pretty adorable. Not sure I ship it but more like she's a little sister.

OMG her nicknames 😅😂, poor Dedue.

Mercedes -

So other than Dimitri, Mercedes had my favorite Dedue early supports, so I saved hers for last.

I love how Mercedes is savage to the people who deserve it, and so sweet to the people who deserve it (sans Felix, he needed a bit of the savage, but what can you say)

"For peace to come even one day sooner." Dedue stooooppp

Mercedes wants to visit Duscur 😭😭😭

Lol "I'm sure Dimitri will let me take a vacation." Like, I'm sure Dimitri will be ecstatic that Dedue actually asked him for something.

I love that they're both praying to both gods. It's nice seeing such a religious character be more open-minded about other religions.

These two are so sweet together. I really want them to pair up.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #dedue molinaro #fe16 #fe3h #it's dedue hour #every hour is dedue hour #in a perfect world

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 12

A/N: if anyone is still out there reading...thanks for your patience. always a thank you to my beta and bestie @chloes-yellow-cup for doing the thing on the thing. 

12. Nosebleed

“You know when you invited me to the gym, I was expecting something more like Equinox…”

Aubrey chuckled and nudged Stacie’s elbow up and in gently so her wrapped fists were in the right place to protect her face. She blew a lock of dark hair out of her face and planted her weight solidly before throwing another punch at the hands held up as targets for her. It was weak and she knew it. Fighting had never really been her thing. Stacie’s instincts ran to comfort rather than violence and she wasn’t even sure why they were doing this.

“Equinox is a gym experience. It’s for people who work out to be seen. You won’t learn to really throw fists there. Besides, this gym was good enough for my dad…it’s good enough for us.”

Stacie was aware there was a personal attachment to the gym when Aubrey brought out her own keys to unlock the door and let them into the quiet and empty space. She just hadn’t realized what that connection came from. Though, she thought, she probably should have. Her eyes traveled to the painted brick walls with pictures and posters of fighters long past adorning them.

“Your dad trained here?”

Aubrey moved behind her, hands resting on Stacie’s hips guiding them in a pivot, helping Stacie to shift her weight with the movement.

“The power comes from the ground up. When you shift your weight, you bring it up through your legs and into your torso. Like this. Find your balance. It’s one of the first things my dad ever taught me about fighting. Right here in this very spot.”

The warmth of Aubrey’s body against her back was distracting and it made Stacie fumble clumsily. The blonde stepped back with a lingering caress and took up her spot in front of her fiancée to hold up her hands again. This time when Stacie swung her fist connected with a solid slap and she blinked in surprise at how it had felt to land a hit successfully and feel the slight jar of resistance from impact. It was exhilarating and she could see the appeal of boxing. Maybe.

“Whoa.”

“Feels good, right?”

“Yeah but….why are we doing this Bree?” Aubrey’s shoulders rolled in a slight shrug but she remained quiet, a sure sign that she had reasons she wasn’t sure how to share. Stacie dropped her shoulders and ducked low in a weave from the swipe of Aubrey’s hand. She popped back up and punched solidly into the waiting hands, the movements more fluid and sure than before. “Not that this isn’t kind of fun. But. It seems kind of purposeful.”

Aubrey’s arm swiped out again and she ducked. It was rhythmic, almost like dancing and the second she thought of it that way her body went into autopilot. She moved with ease, each punch more solid than the last.

“Two reasons. I always stop here to work out when I’m home. I dunno. Maybe it’s silly but I feel close to him here. My dad. I uh. I wanted him to meet you.”

Stacie’s fists wavered and dropped slightly and Aubrey reached out to nudge her elbows back into position. Her focus sharpened on the task, understanding that Aubrey needed to keep moving while they talked. She blew the same strand of hair out of her face once more and ducked and bobbed again, keeping the same flow.

“Think he’d like me?”

“I think he would have loved you. And he’d be proud…of me. For picking someone good like you to spend my life with. At least that’s how I always see it in my head when I think about him.”

Stacie slowed her movements on her duck and lowered her fists. Her heart throbbed painfully for Bree’s loss. It was pretty clear they had been a tight team, father, and daughter. Aubrey took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back to square them.

“I really would have liked to meet him. I’m sorry he can’t be with us.”

“You would have liked him, babe. My dad was a big softie, you know. Despite what he did for work, he never let that be who he was. Inside.”

She touched her chest lightly and smiled as her gaze landed on picture on the wall. Stacie turned to look at it and smiled too. Even from across the ring she could tell it was baby Aubrey, tiny fists raised in front of her face as she squared off against a kneeling man with huge hands and kind laughing eyes.

“I see that in you, Aubrey. I know him from the way you love your people, from the way you love me. You’re kinda just like your dad.”

Aubrey gestured for Stacie to bring her hands up again, feeling the need to move around and focus on something else. She gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and raised her fists to start again. For a few minutes there was only the sound of the meaty slap of her one, two punches and the rustle of her clothes as she shuffled through her routine. She was feeling more confident about it and smiled through the next punches before taking a breath to speak.

“So, what was the other reason?”

Slap. Slap. Shuffle. Slap. Slap. Shuffle.

“The second reason has more to do with me getting to watch you working out in those sweats.”

It was hard to hold in her laughter but if she let it go now, she’d mess up her pacing and breathing. Aubrey stepped it up a notch and started a slow revolution around the ring, making Stacie stay light on her feet between punches. It took her another few minutes to get her breathing under control again.

“You’ve been hanging out with Detective Mitchell too much. You’re starting to sound like her.”

Aubrey let out a breathy chuckle when the new few punches landed a little heavier than the ones previously. The blonde caught her wrists on the next pass and brought their bodies together with a strong jerk. Stacie wasn’t at all complaining.

“She’s not so bad for a cop.”

“So that’s the real reason? You really just wanted to check me out?”

It wasn’t a complaint if the result was being held against Aubrey’s chest. Strong fingers flexed on her wrists, tightening ever so slightly and making her heart beat double time. It never ceased to amaze her that just that tiny flex of control could make her weak in the knees. Pale green eyes searched the planes of her face like a warm caress before she released Stacie.

“I always want to check you out. But no, I have reasons for this.” Hands ghosted down her sides keeping them close but not distractingly so. “Things could get rough soon, Alice is a loose cannon. There’s really no telling what she might try to do. I’d feel better knowing that if someone were stupid enough to try to put their hands on you, you’ll be able to make them regret it.”

Oh. Aubrey’s head dipped and she let out a shaky breath. Stacie brought their heads together for a gentle nose nudge. Self defense wasn’t the worst thing she could learn and there was good reason for it.

“That’s an oddly sweet and endearing sentiment. And you’re right. This is something I probably should have learned a long time ago. I just…”

There was something in her nature that made her squeamish about the idea of fighting. It wasn’t the pain she’d endure. She’d had plenty of it to endure before. It was the idea of hurting someone, putting her hands on someone with the intent to cause harm. It wounded something in her. But that was a softness she could no longer afford. Her life was different. She was different. Aubrey seemed to understand and cupped her face tenderly.

“This doesn’t change who you are Stace. You’re just going to know how to protect yourself. In case.”

In case. It was said with such a casual roll of Aubrey’s shoulders and a dismissive air. As if the possibility were a far distant dream rather than a reality of the current situation. Stacie gave and stood taller, falling into stance with focused attention.

“You’re right. This is a good thing and I’ll look hot doing it.”

“Now who’s been hanging out with Mitchell too much?”

Stacie chuckled and put a little extra into her punches as they resumed their movements. After she had settled into the routine again Aubrey switched it up, adding a block and upper cut to the dance. They worked in silence until Aubrey wanted to show her how to do something else. Then the conversation was brief and direct. She didn’t really need it to be anything other than what it was. Stacie just wanted to learn everything she could.

They had started to build up a sweat as they transitioned from blocking and trading blows to grappling. It was a skill she was having a harder time picking up but as Aubrey twisted and pulled her to the ground, pinning her firmly to the mat beneath them, she realized why.

“You’re supposed to be trying to get away, Stacie.”

Aubrey’s weight shifted and Stacie couldn’t help but roll her hips up, half squirm, half grind. She knew she wasn’t the only one of them affected by the intimate position when Aubrey’s pupils blew out leaving just the tiniest ring of bright green showing. It was a little like being caught in the gaze of a very large bird of prey.

“Sorry baby, getting away from you is the last thing I want to do.”

She hadn’t meant it to be a profound statement but something flickered behind Aubrey’s eyes a second before the blonde brought them together in a deep kiss that left Stacie breathless and bemused. Stacie’s hands slid over Aubrey’s smooth, strong back, fingertips sliding under the tight elastic of her sports bra. Muscles tightened as the blonde shifted her weight again to bring a thigh up between Stacie’s legs. Aubrey dove down for another demanding kiss that she oh so willingly gave up and gave into. It was relentless and all consuming making her deaf to the creak of the glass front door swinging open and closed.

“Oh for chrissakes…you said you were gonna work out. This isn’t how I thought you’d be working up a sweat. Not that I blame you.”

Stacie sighed as Aubrey pulled back and glared up at her cousin. He put his hands up and reached into his inner jacket pocket for a pack of gum. It gave them a few seconds to untangle and stand up.

“What do you want Jesse?”

“Pop called an emergency meeting.”

“Fine, swing me by the hotel so I can shower and change.”

“No can do. He wants everyone at the table now. And when Franco says now, he means right now. Everyone is dropping everything to be there so you’ll be in good company. You’re about to see more sweat suits and gold chains than at an LL Cool J concert.”

Stacie bit her lip to keep from laughing at the image. She couldn’t keep the mirth out of her voice, however. “At least you didn’t work up your sweat lifting cannoli to shove in your face.”

Jesse’s lips quirked. “No offense cuz, and don’t hate me for it, but I think I’m kinda in love with your girl.”

“Hate you? I don’t have to hate you Jess…I can just shoot you.”

The laugh finally tumbled out at the mock offense on Jesse’s face. Aubrey laced fingers with her and shouldered the bag they had carried their workout stuff in. The ring of keys jangled heavily in her fiancée’s hand as they walked through the gym and out the front door.

“So, what’s this meeting about?”

“Quincy has news on our eager beaver.”

So…finally they were getting somewhere. Stacie studied Aubrey as she locked the door behind them. There wasn’t a hint of emotion from the blonde, not that she expected there would be but it was still a nice confirmation that there was nothing whatsoever between them. At least not on Aubrey’s side of it.

“Good news or bad news?” It was said with the same cool detachment that was reserved for business matters.

Jesse’s suit clad shoulders rolled in a shrug as he led them to the car and held the back passenger door open for them. “I dunno, all I know is that Quincy came through and Pop called a meeting.”

The door closed on them and they exchanged a look. Well. One way or another they were going to get some solid answers at last. Aubrey took her hand again and held it through the silent, tension filled ride. It was thankfully short but their arrival left Stacie with an uneasy weight in the pit of her stomach. There were armed men at the gate to the drive that waved them in with stone faced efficiency. It hadn’t been that way the last time they had come here. Something had changed and it seemed like the Family was on full alert.

None of them commented on it, they simply got out of the parked car and continued into the house. It was full of unfamiliar faces tight with anticipation. They parted before the trio, giving them access to the dinning room. Jesse stopped and took his phone out and casually dropped it in the lock box he’d carried earlier. Aubrey and Stacie followed suit and pushed into the room to take their places at the table. She noticed there was an extra seat now and settled into with a grateful smile to Uncle Frank. He gave her a wink and clapped his hands.

“Everyone that should be here is here. Quince. Tell them.”

A thin man, wispy looking man pushed his chair back and stood. “I gotta hand it to you kid, when you screw someone, you really screw them. This Esposito is kind of an interagency joke, and she has a hard on to see you taken down because of it. But your guy was right, there’s nothing solid on you. She pitched her case and it got laughed down.”

Aubrey leaned back in her chair and steepled her fingers while she sorted her thoughts. “If she’s running this investigation off books she must be pretty sure she’s going to come up with something.”

Stacie leaned forward unsure if she should speak. “Okay so if she didn’t get the go ahead from her boss who gave the okay for her to still keep going. At the end of the day the FBI is all about billable hours and the cogs of bureaucracy. Someone is signing off on two FBI agents payroll and smoothing ruffled feathers at L.A.P.D.”

Quincy gave her a measuring look, his stiff helmet of hair gleaming in the light as he nodded. “Smart kid. Our contact says someone flagged the report after her boss kicked it. It went straight to the director himself.”

Aubrey’s brows raised at that. If she was such a nobody why was the director of the FBI interested in her? “On who’s order?”

“Senator August Conrad.”

The air left Stacie’s lungs in a rush. Heat radiated from her chest with every heartbeat and it burned like acid in her veins. That son of a bitch. Aubrey’s hand closed over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze reminding her she wasn’t alone in the moment. Stacie blinked once and settled back in her chair, forcing each muscle to relax. Aubrey waited a moment for that news to sink in before she stood and paced around the table with slow deliberation.

“One of the scandals Whitman was involved in implicated a lot of big names. Conrad wasn’t on that list but he introduced his son in law to a lot of people. Probably most of if not all of the people being looked at now. That has to be the connection.”

Big Mike let out a hefty sigh. “How do we know it’s not just because you hooked up with his baby girl?”

All eyes swung to her and Stacie gave the question some thought before answering. “I think Aubrey is right. It does bother him that she’s a part of my life but he’s greedy enough to realize the benefit of having a relationship with a businesswoman like her. He’d only be making a move like this if someone else pushed him into it. Someone has to have leverage on him of some kind.”

Franco stood and placed his hands on the table. His heavy gaze pinned each of them in turn to convey the seriousness of what he was about to say. “How this plays out determines how far we can push business on the West Coast. There is no margin for error where this is concerned.” When he turned to look at her everyone’s gaze shifted too. “Find out who has the squeeze, and what they have on him.”

It wasn’t until that moment that Stacie made the association with Senator Conrad to her father. She had somehow divorced them in her mind as two separate people and now the realization that they were one in the same winded her. She could feel everyone studying her, waiting to see how she’d act to the order. Wondering if it would bother her to be disloyal to her family, to her father. The thing was, August Conrad hadn’t done anything to earn her loyalty. There wasn’t a single instance that she could remember where he’d actually been there for her as a parent. They were little more than strangers to each other.

But did that mean she was ready to spy on him and use what she learned to blackmail him into doing what would be best for the Family?

“I know where to start looking.”

Absolutely.

[purekesseltrash]

My Fic List

Whelp, decided I should do one of these.  I have mostly written for Hockey RPF and BNHA, as you have likely already seen!

My BNHA Fics

Bury Them Deep

- “Shouji Mezou's entire life has revolved around being a goalie and playing hockey since he was five years old. After being drafted in the third round in the NHL, Shouji has two more years of college before moving on to playing professional hockey like he's always wanted. Or at least like he always thought he wanted. An injury that ends his season throws him into a tailspin, forcing him to take a look at his life and how he is going to live it, especially after meeting his fascinating new goth history tutor.”

(This bad bitch is 81k total and is chock full of my red hot hockey takes and midwestern references.  I love it very much and it is a sweet baby.)

The Rooftop Necromancy series AKA my black metal band AU:

Downhill from Here 

- “ Hizashi just wants to tour the country with his best friends with their metal band in their shitty van like they've been planning for years. He'd successfully hidden his crush on one of them for years, after all, he would definitely be able to make this work and keep things fun and uncomplicated. Until Aizawa decided to start acting weird. “

(In which I take you all on a nostalgic trip to 2006-2008 metal culture and you can see the black metal love song that my dumb ass wrote.)

The Perfect Mistake

- “ It wasn't as though Hizashi had planned on breaking up with his boyfriend while they were on tour in a tiny cargo van with no room and no peace. He would have much rather preferred to do it when they were home and he could easily go and crawl back into his mom's basement. But he didn't have a choice. “

(As relationships tend to do, theirs goes through problems.)

Rooftop Necromancy

-"He’d even ended up leaning into the crowd when someone’s elbow had connected solidly with his nose and thrown him back. They’d gone quiet as Hizashi got himself up to his feet, ripped off his now bloody ‘Within Temptations’ tshirt from 2004, whipped his hair back from his face and screamed, “That’s what I’m FUCKING talking about.” into the mic.

They went wild for it, cheering as blood ran down his nose, past his mouth and dripped onto the stage, leaving him feeling like an otherworldly monster performing an occult ritual. Metal, he thought dazedly to himself, why in the fuck had he ever stopped doing metal."

(I hyperfocused so hard at the idea of Mic as a metal head that I wrote this in seven straight hours and WROTE THROUGH THE ATTEMPTED COUP ON DEMOCRACY WITHOUT KNOWING IT.  It’s a bit rough, but it’s got some good parts and it spawned the whole damn series.)

Hands Up

- "But of course he had, they had always been able to read each other and what they meant. That had often been their problem, if he was going to be honest."

(In which they figure their shit out.  Basically it was written when I was thinking alot about how my own mental health had evolved through the years.  It’s basically the story of two people who are both very good for each other and also very bad and how they deal with that.  It’s probably the most personally meaningful thing I’ve ever written.)

The other BNHA fics:

Waking Up With Ghosts

-"Hizashi opened his eyes to a world that belonged to ghosts. His headphones were gone and the gray, grimy world that he felt more than saw was muffled and still. This was bad, he hazily thought."

In which we follow Hizashi shortly after the events of 296. How he's found, how he finds out and how he has to tell.”

(I fished this one out of the garbage of my Google Docs because I’d written most of it and forgotten about it.  I dragged it out, prettied it up a little and threw it up on AO3.  It is by far my most well read BNHA fic, go figure.)

Leave Her Johnny

-”Captain Hizashi Yamada has combed the Seven Seas looking for the elusive smuggler Eraserhead. He has spent years searching for him, tracking his movements and trying to anticipate where he would be next. But he had never considered what would happen when he finally found him. “

(I wrote a paragraph of this and was immediately like ‘I MUST CREATE THIS’.  I take some chances writing wise in this as the whole thing is done in a Victorian Era ish style of writing.  But I think it’s effective and the ending is likely one of the best that I’ve ever managed.  I’m proud of it.)

Gold Rush

-”"That earned him a laugh and Mashirao’s smile made something in his chest ache, something that made him want to hurt. Why had he ever left?

“I’m really not,” Mashirao was saying but Shinsou just shook his head and kissed him once, twice and wished he could take the sunny afternoon and make it stay forever. Make it stay forever like Mashirao somehow had, while the neighborhood had adjusted without Hitoshi’s permission.

“You are,” he said, “And I love it.”

I love you, he should have said.  But as Mashirao’s eyes softened and the blonde pushed him back against the bed, Hitoshi knew he didn’t need to say it."

(You know how sometimes you listen to a Death Cab for Cutie song about gentrification over and over until a fic comes out?  Because that’s basically what happened here.)

Black Sun

‘"But then he remembered the way that Shouji had eaten the night after, one hand curled into his hair as he hung back in the corner. Shouji hid when something was wrong, like a wounded cat trying to find a dark place to either live or die and he was being released tomorrow. Now was the time to push or he’d find Shouji right back on his bed, staring at nothing."

Something happened to Shouji on the beach. Tokoyami is sure of it.‘

(Aaaaaand Death Cab for Cutie strikes again.  But heyo, my first published ShouToko and it is SOFTTTTT)

In the Far and Mighty West

Mic came closer and despite himself, Shouta could not find it in him to feel afraid. “You won’t understand, not really. I’ll try, though. I’m like Pecos Bill or Paul Bunyan or a jackalope or that fish that your friend caught that he swears he brought in but that you’ve never seen proof of. I’m the herd of dogies moving sweet and steady in the right direction, I’m no stragglers to worry about, I’m that perfect dog that’s there to keep them in line. I’m that group of good friends that you would kill for, I’m the woman who you’re dying to come home to, I’m that promised home of milk and honey. I’m Mic.”

Shouta stared at him dazedly and licked his lips, feeling drunk and stupid as he stared at the man. “You’re… magic?”

“I suppose you could call me that.”

(Cowboy!Erasermic.  Inspired heavily by American Gods and my own love of folk heroes.)

In Your Violence

- “'Mezou frowned, eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to say that you’re scared that I’ll be killed by having faith in you?”

“It would be in your best interest to stay away from me,” Fumikage finally said, his voice falling flat and quiet. “I am destined to be a monster.”

'Mezou gets the call he fears, the one that says that Fumikage has lost control again. But this time it's different, in more ways than one.”

(I listened to Silence by Marshmello until I went insane in this is the result.  Featuring some of my super depressing headcanons about Shouji!  But it’s not awful.)

My hockey fics that I still like:

Hufflepuff Halfwit  

- ““Zhenya, the wind is coming from the west, I will not remind you again. You shut that window before the house stinks of factories!” She snapped and Geno stared at the owl as though maybe it would know what to do. But instead, it had given a little hoot and wiggled inside, only to drop it’s letter on the counter.

He turned his head very slowly back to look at his mother, who had suddenly gone very quiet. “It… just showed up, Mama. And um. It brought a letter.” He waited again, looked back at the owl who had begun to nose at the pirozhkis in interest and then looked back at his mother with the best puppy dog eyes he had ever attempted. “Can I keep it?”

(This is a part of my hockey/Harry Potter au that still legitimately haunts my dreams.  It’s basically a Sid/Geno in Hogwarts but I really love the world building I got to do with Koldovstoretz, the Russian school of wizardry.  Don’t read ‘On the Word of a Slytherin’ though, I’m not as proud of that one.)

The Prince  

- “What the fuck.” Matt breathed out, sitting back heavily onto his hotel bed as he stared at his phone.

‘This is Henrik.’ The text read. ‘I would like to meet you. I will book a room in Pittsburgh at your convenience. Let me know what time will work for you.’  - 

(Listen, it’s Henrik Lundqvist/Matt Murray smut, I feel like that is novel and interesting and worth your attention.  I wax poetic on goalies in this, as you do.)

The Zoo of Toronto 

- “No one missed it when a massive porcupine had shuffled in between the reporters with a single minded focus, pushing media away until it was able to grip onto Phil’s suit pants and try to pull itself up. He hadn’t been able to do more then besides pick the animal up before it could shred his pants to shreds and walk out of the locker room before the decision had been made with the Toronto media.

Phil Kessel was guilty.” 

(Not gonna lie, this is probably my favorite of the hockey fics I’ve written.  And it’s Phil/Carl, which is never found anymore but it was a good pairing.)

#my writing

[papers4me]

I think I am one of few who is often disappointed by the directing and adaption choices in the anime. Sometimes it feels that they do not get the tone of important scenes right, and make them more upbeat/sentimental than they are presented in manga, which always feels more raw and bittersweet to me. Like setting Rin being thrown out a window and Haru finding Rin to pop music. Wtf? It makes it feel cheesy to me. I'd be interested to see how you find it if you eventually read the manga.

While I enjoy the story so much, yeah, the directing is questionable at times. It seems that the director’s vision is a mix of intense dramatic scenes mixed with happy episode closure. However, the the dramatic scenes is not dramatized by the plot or dialogue but rather the character animation itself & the necessity of happy upbeat episode closure contradicts with continuous flowing plot & bending unsolved issues.

The reason all Haru/Rin scenes together are attached to upbeat music is becuz they’re at the end of an episode which MUST end happily no matter what. There are a handful of eps where the ep closes with the right feeling that connects it to the next ep, but then again, the next episode itself is always another plot thread that relates to another character & another issue. Nothing is wrong with plot moving somewhere, but the sudden jumps weird me out. That’s the director’s vision & perhaps the writer, too? I duno how much she’s involved. but Furuba is forever an episodic anime to me (including se02 & what have we seen from se03 now). Most of the times, things are dropped suddenly or introduced suddenly. I just go with the flow even in se02 & the late season so far, which character will get focus today? which issue will be dealt with? whose emotions will be visit today? that’s why I stopped reading/hearing the end ep cards, it tells me who the character is & I want to maintain the little suspense I have.

This does not mean the plot is never connected, it Is connected. However, it is so far in between. For example, tohru. When was the last time we visited her issues? I mean HER issues. Not her attempts to save all characters traumas & their love lives too. She had issues, you guys. but that was hinted with few seconds scenes at at se02 wayyyyyyy back at ep, 8 (short panic attach), 14 (quick flashback) 15 (very short box symbolism), ep 19 (nightmare).  Now, se03, 4 eps in &~ nothing much from her perspective abt herself. The only thing that is solidly & clearly shown is her romantic love for kyo. Still, I have faith in the writer. Tohru will turn out to be the best character ever! If not in the show, then I’ll go look for her in the manga! XD. But I bet the writer will insist that her lead female character gets respect in the anime, so, I’ll wait it out.

This criticism doesn’t mean I hate the show or the directing. I adore the show! & respect the director’s artistic choices but If I can gush abt the things I like, I’ll talk the things that bother me. As long as I don’t disrespect anybody. But regardless of all criticism, I still enjoy the characters writing! it is SO  deep, profound, thorough & realistic. This is furuba’s greatest strength. Even the characters’ wrong choices & hurtful deeds come from a realistic but faulty perspective & I love that! Even the three toxic duo (shigure-akito-kureno) are well-written so far! XD

Although I don’t read the novels of the shows I watch, I’ll make sure to visit certain scenes in furuba’s manga once the anime is over. I’m so curious to see how the writer interpret the dramatic scenes & give the right atmosphere without music or voice acting. What is her artistic vision? Mangas & anime are two different mediums but since mangas have visuals, it means that the mangakas? are a semi-director themselves. The readers rely on the visual panels while the written bubbles must not be bigger. How the facial expressions are depicted without the help of the excellent voice acting!

I’ll rely on you guys to assign chapters for me to read! since I won’t read the whole thing! I’d love to have these discussions that focus on Takaya’s artistic depiction without much comparing it to the director. This way, the discussions will be unbiased, thrilling & fun!

Thank you for expressing your thoughts with me.they’re valuable cuz they come from your own perspective, feelings & understanding of the scenes/panels <3

#Fruits Basket #asks #Anime Only #Lovely Friends #childrenofthrforce

[skamamoroma]

“I Told Sunset About You” - How did this show make COCONUTS emotional?!

I know some people have already written about this and it has been talked about a lot but I promised @londongirl2001​ that I’d write a ‘little’ post on it - this one is for you, love!

I feel like this is a good place to start where coconuts are concerned because not only are they a metaphorical representation of Teh’s developing feelings but also as a characterisation of Oh-aew and a representation of something ‘good’ and full of fortune and luck. When all considered, it’s such a damn clever way to connect all of the above ideas and also to send Teh into such a significant tail spin over a scent, dude ends up almost smothering himself more than once!

Two facts relating to coconuts are established pretty clearly from the outset:

Oh finds the smell of coconuts calming/soothing as his signature scent 

Teh hates them, finds the smell gross 

The fact they established this ‘conflict’ so early made the progress all the more delightful and painful to watch.

Coconuts representing Oh-aew was a genius move. Many things are used to symbolise Oh in this show but coconuts being his chosen scent, something is decided for himself and is kinda proud of is just so lovely, right? It’s another Oh thing to have a signature scent and to own it so hard. He’s like, yeah, this is my ‘thing’, it’s calming and soothing and I have adopted it as part of who I am. It’s so perfectly HIM and so like him to be so bold in terms of who he is. It’s sweet too because I don’t know about anyone else but throughout the whole show, I felt like Oh would smell lovely… like, it affected me knowing he always smelled of coconuts and now adorable and endearing that must be to people around him. He’s a Phuket boy, always at the beach and the idea he smells of something so connected to that environment made him even more magical to me.

So you have Oh characterised by this soothing, sweet, natural scent and Teh being entirely not into it. Hoon offers him a coconut as a sign of fortune and luck and Teh’s like, nah, GROSS, DISGUSTING, NEVER WOULD I EVER. He physically recoils when he smells Oh’s scented pen and it’s this clear sense of boundary. It’s clever because it’s that boundary that exists in terms of Teh’s head and how he views their connection… he doesn’t really have a sense of romance or ‘feels’ at this point but he still NOTICES. The moment in the evening when he drops Oh off at the pier and Oh teases him with his ‘smell my hair’, it’s this lovely extended metaphor for Oh’s presence being so full on for Teh. We know he feels SOMETHING. He paced the entire restaurant with jitters until Oh arrived and then offered himself and all of his tutoring tools especially for Oh, feeling oh so happy he could be someone special to him… and Oh’s there at the end of the night like ‘remember I smell like coconuts, Teh?”

And I feel we need to take a moment to just bask in the sweetness of Oh’s coconut pen. It’s kind of iconic at this point, right? (Apparently they made it especially for the show and it wasn’t bought so they really did go all out to make Oh the loveliest, didn’t they?)

I love that their tutoring sessions must have been coconut scented with Oh always using his pen and I kinda love that Teh must have got used to it over time as they spent more and more time together… but we get this huge shift in feelings where Teh’s all over the place trying to work out why he wants to be something other than ‘just another friend’ and then once he’s got to grips with that and tried to play matchmaker for Oh and Bas, why he goes a little insane at the idea that Bas is taking away ‘their thing’ and ‘their time’... his poor jumbled up brain can’t work stuff out and then we get the boat scene.

I’ve written about it before but this is my favourite scene in the entire show. I love it SO much for so so many reasons but I, personally, think this is the moment Teh fell in love. It’s the moment when Oh says everything above… and if Teh isn’t able to opem up then Oh reassures him that’s ok too and he’ll try to work him out. For someone like Teh who is just so very internal and confused and scared and knotted up, having someone say that is so precious, so special and you can see how much it affects Teh (his eyes in that gif above break me). I think quite a few things slotted into place in that moment as to why he was going out of his tiny mind a little… and IMMEDIATELY after that, when they’re playfighting we get the “why do you smell so good?” moment with Oh confirming it’s the same smell as always and Teh’s ‘oh shit’ moment right at the end of the episode because the thing that characterises Oh and the thing Teh really DOES NOT like have become something he finds yummy (I love that he uses that word!), stays up late to eat and smother himself with in the dark restaurant… hahahaha. I mean, it’s a sorry sight on one hand but, on the other, it’s so completely sweet. He’s really just smitten and still trying to sort his head out but if it reminds him of Oh, he wants all of it, right now, in any way he can get it. I laugh and smile and want to cuddle him at the end of that scene when you think he’s going to get up after he’s eaten the coconut and he just face plants back into it again. I LOVE HIM. The metaphor is so solidly established as… the distance has gone, Teh is fully in his feelings and poor guy is a mess because of it. It’s why all of his encounters with coconuts when Oh isn’t around are kinda weird and I love him for it…!

So thus begins Teh’s habit of smothering himself in coconut smelling items and after the hammock, after knowing Oh has feelings for him and kinda admitting his own, he’s doing his whole “I don’t know where to put myself or what is happening so I’m going to roll around on my beautiful rug and pace around my room and rub Oh’s Chinese notes all over my face because they smell like him and I want to see him and I’m going insane, help” thing. Which is totally another favourite scene for me…! BK kills those physical moments. Seeing Teh sit there with green ink all over his face like ‘FFS, I’m going mad’ before standing up and walking out of his room with the sole intention of having it in person rather than rubbing stuff all over himself as a replacement, hahahaha.

I love that when Teh has Oh close and don’t need to inhale actual coconut or smother himself with tutoring notes, they SHARE actual coconut juice. That shot of them riding the scooter with them both sharing the coconut juice, this two and fro. To me, it’s like this sense of when they come together, the confusion seems to always stop. By the end of moments where either one is confused or isn’t saying everything… they always manage to get to some conclusion by the end and so there’s no uncertainty, there’s this symbiotic sense of sharing and being together and kinda being a unit. So Teh happily drinking coconut juice and sharing it with Oh is so full of acceptance and closeness, it’s very lovely.

I ADORED that we got to see Oh washing his hair, clearly inhaling the shampoo smell and we got to see that he genuinely DOES find it calming. He clearly has this really soothing bath time and it’s this reminder that he’s actively sure of himself, kind of in control of who he is and how he conducts his life (which is why the red bra scene breaks my heart into pieces every time but that’s for another time)...

The final few moments for the delightful coconut metaphor are, for me, so emotionally laden with the themes of the show, it makes me a little misty eyed but DOESN’T MOST OF THIS SHOW. When we see Teh drive up to Oh as he’s starting his vow, Teh’s sidecar being loaded with a shit ton of coconuts is both beautiful and so symbolic of how he has genuinely changed. He’s no longer hating the smell, he’s not rubbing is all over his face to try to work out his feelings… he’s bringing the coconuts to Oh and doesn’t care at this point. Aside from the fact Teh fills Oh’s rucksack with coconuts - dude has to run far, Teh, what are you doing - there’s thing lovely sense of Teh knowing what they mean to Oh and how soothing and calming they are AND how Hoon told him they represent good fortune and luck. It’s so sweet of Teh, means a lot in the context of their story and is this emotive way for Teh to show how he understands himself so much more and how he can be so much more calm and focused on WHY he’s doing things. He seems so much more confident and in tune in those moments, almost CARING for Oh actively rather than in a chaotic OTT way or accidentally. It’s like he can work himself out now and is able to say ‘this is for you, I know what it means, I think you’ll need it”. AND THEN THEY DRINK IT TOGETHER, in sync and Teh of all people manages to almost flirt!! I know the in sync drinking was intentional from the documentary but I’d LOVE to know why P’Boss did that. For me, it’s this sense of them both being on the same page now… this sense of the fortune and health that the coconut symbolises being present for both of them in their personal growth to have them both together and both embodying this feeling of peace for a while.

And this is where I realise I’ve written an essay about coconuts… but ONCE AGAIN, this show makes everything meaningful and I love it so! 

#itsay #I told sunset about you #itsay thoughts

[carewyncromwell]

“Pardon the way that I stare -- There's nothin' else to compare... The sight of you leaves me weak; There are no words left to speak, But if you feel like I feel, Please let me know that it's real... You're just too good to be true -- Can't take my eyes off of you...”

~“Can’t Take My Eyes Off You (cover),” by Joseph Vincent

x~x~x~x

For my next installment of my “Valentine’s Day” series where I feature each of my kids and some of the people they care about most, I present to you Jackson Knightly with his future love interest Montelimar Bloom @cursebreakerfarrier and Monty’s BFF, Orla Atkinson @hphm-brooke! I think this particular post fits @kathrynalicemc‘s wonderful Valentine’s Ball prompt perfectly, as well, since it takes place at a Valentine’s Day ball and features these babies in formal wear!

In Jackson’s fifth year, he still saw Monty solidly as a friend. That all changed, however, during a Valentine’s Day ball Jackson helped organize with his BFF Adelia “Addy” Selwyn @that-ravenpuff-witch and several other students.

Jackson was greatly looking forward to the event. Not only did he pull out all the stops to make sure the place was decorated beautifully with swan-shaped ice sculptures, marble cherubs, and white roses, but all of his friends -- his “sweet Demiguise,” Hirtia “Tia” Caldwell @cursed-ice-spirits; his “lady Vipertooth,” Orla “Lala” Atkinson; his “brilliant Frenchman,” Montelimar “Monty” Bloom -- would be in attendance. Jackson had ended up inviting a fourth year student from Hufflepuff named Felicity Abbott as his “date” for the event, after finding her sitting in the stands alone after the recent Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sobbing inconsolably into her handkerchief -- it was out of pity more than anything, but Jackson hated seeing the young lady cry all by herself.

Jackson came down the grand staircase toward the Great Hall in a set of gold-trimmed white dress robes and very slender, fitted gold slacks over a pair of black ankle boots, looking like a charming prince out of some Muggle fairy tale. No one had spotted him descending the stairs yet, so he scanned the room -- and what caught his eye first was a tall boy his age with spectacles, dressed in handsome grayish-blue dress robes with tails and a matching vest over a white shirt and slacks. It was Monty, chatting with his best friend Orla -- Monty was visibly flustered, but both of them were smiling. Despite himself, Jackson found himself smiling more softly than most anyone was used to seeing. Bloom had always been so modest, he thought to himself...even with how handsome he clearly was. The thought stuck in Jackson’s head strangely -- certainly, Monty was handsome, few would probably question it, but...well, it wasn’t exactly something men were supposed to think about each other, was it? His father certainly wouldn’t have approved if Jackson had ever verbalized such a sentiment...

Fortunately Jackson was quickly distracted by several members of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team coming up to talk to him, and ever the showman, Jackson put on his broadest, most confident smile and went about socializing. He then slowly made his way over to Monty and Orla, his ocean-blue eyes alight with good humor.

“Lala, my precious Vipertooth!”

Jackson took Orla’s hand and used it to twirl her around like a little girl playing princess.

“You look absolutely radiant, my dear,” he fawned over her.

Orla’s lips spread into a cool smirk as she rested her free hand on her hip. “I should hope so, considering you picked this dress out for me.”

“I’d like to think I have good taste, Lala,” said Jackson with a mischievous grin. “The lavender makes your eyes pop just so.”

His eyes trailed over to Monty, lingering briefly on the gold buttons on his lapel before moving up to his face.

“...I must say, Bloom...you’ve really cleaned up most handsomely. Is there a lady here you thought to impress?”

Monty flushed, but put on a modest smile all the same. “Oh no, not at all...I merely thought to try to dress for the occasion, as best I could.”

Once again, Jackson found his expression softening a bit. Even now that Monty was more confident than when they’d first met, the Ravenclaw still sometimes blushed like a shy schoolgirl. It was actually quite endearing.

Monty’s smile grew a bit wryer as he added, “I must thank you for the compliment, Jackson, considering that -- as always -- you have a knack for standing out.”

Jackson grinned. “I certainly try.”

Out the side of his eye, he caught sight of Felicity Abbott, her face bright with a smile and dressed in pink satin, waving at him from the top of the stairs.

“Please excuse me,” he said softly, “I owe the lady at least one dance tonight, as her escort. If you see Addy, tell her I’ll follow up with her shortly -- I’d like to add some twinkling lights to the roses trimming the windows, once it gets darker outside...”

He inclined his head to his friends before moving to greet the younger Hufflepuff.

Jackson had been nothing but a gentleman with Felicity Abbott, as he would’ve been for any other young lady he might offer a dance to. She seemed to be having a good time, and Jackson was grateful for it -- he didn’t know her at all and he quite frankly didn’t think that she’d be anything but an acquaintance for him in the future, but even so, he had a sensitive enough heart to hate the thought of someone not having fun at a party, especially a party celebrating Valentine’s Day. What Jackson had not expected, however, was Gryffindor’s tall, broad-chested seventh-year Quidditch Captain stepping right in front of him and Felicity.

“Torquil Travers,” greeted Jackson.

Travers’s eyes narrowed very coldly upon Jackson’s face. “Care to explain what the hell you think you’re doing, Knightly?”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dancing with my woman,” Travers hissed through bare teeth.

His eyes flashed at Felicity, who trembled visibly.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly under his raised eyebrows. 

“Now, Mr. Travers...surely Miss Abbott at least merits being called ‘your lady,’ rather than something so crude?”

He spoke as pleasantly as he could, given the stink eye the Gryffindor was fixing him with, but he did take a subtle step to the side so as to create something of a physical barrier between Travers and Felicity with his body. This only served to make Travers angrier.

“Felicity is my intended,” he spat. “She is my wife in practice, if not yet by law, and therefore mine.”

“A person is hardly something to be treated like an object to possess,” Jackson said in a low voice that betrayed a sharp edge despite the cool calm of his expression. “Nor like a caged animal that follows a man’s direction.”

He glanced at Felicity, whose face had gone very white and scared. He immediately tried to comfort her with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Come, Miss Abbott,” he said, “let us be off -- ”

But before Jackson could steer her away, Travers grabbed the back of Jackson’s robes, roughly pulling him backward and away from the younger girl. Felicity screamed. 

“You will not touch her again, you filthy Muggle-bred ponce!” snarled Travers.

Jackson amazingly responded to Travers’s fury with a broad, gleaming white smirk. “‘Filthy?’ Come now, Mr. Travers, surely you could come up with a more targeted insult than that -- these robes are clearly spotless.”

His tiny brown eyes widening with rage, Travers raised a fist --

BAM.

Before his knuckles could collide with Jackson’s jaw, however, Monty had appeared out of nowhere. Dashing forward, he’d forcibly put up an arm and stepped right between Jackson and Travers so that the Slytherin commentator was behind him and Traver’s fist whammed right into his left shoulder instead.

Jackson’s eyes grew very wide. “Bloom...!”

The blow made Monty rock back slightly and clutch his shoulder, visibly winded, but he regained his footing quickly, his eyes narrowing upon Travers’s face. 

“That is enough,” Monty said in a very low, firm voice. “Travers...I think it would be best if you take a step back and a deep breath. A physical altercation is hardly a good way to settle such a dispute -- especially when there are teachers present.”

He indicated the Charms and Transfiguration professors, who were striding through the assembling crowd as if to discover the source of their interest.

Travers’s fists were shaking with rage, but he seemed to know he wouldn’t be able to get his way or evade punishment if he persisted. And so, shooting a venomous look at Jackson over Monty’s shoulder, he shoved past the pair and disappeared off into the crowd.

Jackson grabbed onto Monty’s robes from behind, almost cradling his back. His face was unusually pale.

“Bloom -- my -- you’re hurt...”

For once, he seemed to have trouble speaking coherently. His hand came up to the spot on Monty’s chest where Travers’s fist had landed.

Monty flinched ever-so-slightly, but smiled reassuringly at him. “Oh...don’t worry, Jackson. It’ll just be a small bruise, I think -- ”

“It should be dealt with straight away,” Jackson said in a strangely sharp and faintly shaky voice.

He looked at Felicity. “Miss Abbott...I see my dear Addy by the far window with Mr. Ellison. Please, remain in their company until I return: I’ll be back shortly.”

And with that, Jackson had escorted Monty out of the Great Hall and to an abandoned hallway a short ways away from the party. He’d insisted on Monty sitting down on a window ledge and removing his robes and shirt just enough to show his left shoulder, so that Jackson could work on healing the injury before it could darken with a bruise. Jackson hated the Hospital Wing as well as hospitals in general, so he’d gotten very used to treating himself whenever he was hurt.

Monty himself could see how tense Jackson was: tenser than he’d ever seen him previously. It truly hadn’t been that horrible -- certainly it would’ve been far worse if Travers had elected to take out his wand instead -- but Jackson still seemed very upset. And he was: Jackson’s emotions were very turbulent indeed.

Monty had protected him. It wasn’t out-of-character for him at all, really, but he’d never physically protected him quite like that before...allowed himself to get hurt, in order to shield him from harm. Jackson hadn’t really had anyone do something like that for him before. Sure, perhaps Adelia would scold someone’s face off on his behalf or Orla would hex someone into next week for having said something, but those were entertaining. This was decidedly not. This was different. It made Jackson’s heart swell with concern and yet also such pride and warmth and admiration and caring...and yet for as new as the feeling felt, it truly didn’t feel unfamiliar. It felt second-nature...almost...like coming home...

“Jackson?” said Monty gently.

Jackson was brought out of his thoughts, but he didn’t look up from Monty’s shoulder. Instead he finished the Healing spell he was casting and then helped pull Monty’s shirt back on.

“There we are,” he murmured, as he fastened Monty’s buttons. “How does your shoulder feel?”

“Better,” admitted Monty.

He watched Jackson’s face carefully. “Jackson...I’m grateful for the help, but I’m all right, truly...”

He brought a hand onto Jackson’s buttoning his collar, making the smaller man halt.

“You don’t need to worry.”

The two’s eyes met. Although both men’s eyes were blue, it was like a calm freshwater lake meeting a rushing ocean: both beautiful and cool, and yet completely different in attitude. Monty’s cheeks were slightly flushed, but his face was very composed. Jackson’s face was anything but, especially when his own cheeks actually started to redden too.

“I...suppose I have lost my composure somewhat,” he said, his eyes falling back down to his hands on Monty’s shirt almost self-consciously.

He finished buttoning up his collar and then helped him pull his grayish-blue robes back on, trying to plaster on one of his charming smiles.

“...What can I say, I’m...not used to some dashing hero coming to my rescue,” he teased. 

Monty smiled. “Well, I couldn’t very well do nothing, seeing you face off against a mountain troll like that, could I?”

Jackson couldn’t bite back a laugh. He looked up at Monty, his ocean-blue eyes and smile alight with more of that strange, unique softness he’d felt -- the sort that, truly, only a precious few ever were the subject of.

“Of course not, my brilliant Frenchman.”

And it was that day that Jackson Knightly’s heart knew what it took a lot longer for him to admit aloud -- he loved Montelimar Bloom with everything that he was.

#ValentinesBallHPHL #my art #jackson knightly #montelimar bloom #orla atkinson #adelia selwyn #my writing #valentine's day #singles awareness day #orla's swan collar GACK I loved designing that #lala isn't the type to show a lot of skin so I had a lot of fun trying to design something modest and pretty for her #she is a lovely fashion template brooke my dear <3 #I see her having been counseling her BFF since monty had heard jackson had a date for the event #and of course poor monty had a crush on jacko long before that stupid charmer ever got a clue #poor jacko was raised by a rather hypermasculine and homophobic father so it takes him a while to be open with his sexuality #even though let's be honest his 'closet' is pretty close to invisible even before he comes out #*pets jackson* #first time writing for monty! #I hope I did your bb justice darling <3

[lloydskywalkers]

*sweats* yeAH i know the one gbdfjgh. It’s very much a Halloween-centered piece so I was incredibly sad tumblr decided to end its life the one time i actually hit a deadline i’d set for myself, but it’s been kind of just...marinating in my docs folder since then. I might post it formally on FFN eventually, but in the meantime, i’ll post it on here below the cut!

“Guys, you will never guess what’s running around Ninjago City."

Jay’s announcement is met with a distinct lack of reaction, which is pretty disappointing, because it’s the kind you drop for a dramatic pause and reaction. And he did — try to, at least.

However, instead of reacting properly, like anyone in their right minds would, his team is woefully un-reactive. Nya continues to snore into the couch, her face pressed against the couch pillow in a way that’s gonna leave a spectacular mark later, and Cole’s too busy referee-ing Lloyd and Kai, who are in the middle of their sixth round of Dance Dance Ninja Revolution, which Jay can’t really blame him for, because they chose a Rihanna song this round and they’re getting a little too into it.

“How did you get that bonus and I didn’t!”

“You gotta pop your hip on that last move, like this—"

“What, and crack my spine in half?”

“I mean, your bones are pretty fragile.”

“Fragile?!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re so old.”

“I’ll crack your spine, you tiny brat—"

Zane is the only one to actually acknowledge him, even if it’s a slight cock of his head from where he’s video-chatting Pixal, making him the only one of these terrible people Jay actually likes right now, unless Kai manages to make a comeback and beat out Lloyd, in which case he’ll celebrate with him.

But it’s looking unlikely.

“Are you talking about the vampire rumors?” Zane asks.

Jay’s expression sours. Never mind, he retracts his appreciation of Zane now. Way to steal his thunder.

Kai snorts from where he’s waving his arms in a butchered kind of Macarena. “Seriously, Jay? Those rumors crop up every year. There’s no vampire.”

Jay glares at him, mentally switching his loyalties to Lloyd, as it looks like he’s going to wipe the floor with Kai anyways, because he’s just snatched that one difficult bonus Kai usually wins where you hair-flip like a diva.

“This is for real, though,” Jay argues. “It was reported on the police scanner. Someone’s running around biting people!”

“Maybe they’re just into that,” Nya yawns, burrowing her face further into the couch pillows. “Don’t be so judgmental, Jay.”

Jay colors, and Kai chokes. Lloyd gives a triumphant crow of victory, doubling his score at the last minute, leaving Kai solidly in the dust. Kai makes a sour face, collapsing on the couch and crossing his arms.

“You cheated.”

“Not my fault you got distracted,” Lloyd shrugs. He turns to Jay, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead and looking curious. “Wait, they’re really reporting that someone’s out there biting people?”

“Or something,” Jay says, quickly seizing on the attention. “Something bloodthirsty that goes around biting people’s necks, which obviously has to be a vampire.”

“It says here it steals their wallets, too,” Zane remarks, scrolling through the news article.

“A wallet-stealing vampire,” Jay amends.

The others look decidedly unimpressed, which is rather insulting and extremely disappointing. Geez, you fight one giant stone titan and a few mythical, apocalypse-bringing monsters and suddenly no one’s impressed by anything anymore.

“Sounds like petty crime, not our thing,” Kai yawns. “Besides, vampires don’t exist.”

Jay sputters. “Are you kidding me?” he exclaims. “They totally exist!”

Cole raises an eyebrow at him. “You know those vampire books are fiction, right?”

Jay presses his lips together tightly. “Are you telling me,” he says, stiffly. “That after everything — everything we’ve seen — which includes and is not limited to warriors made up of tiny snakes, a walking eldritch horror that’s actually another realm, and living skeletons — you don’t believe vampires can exist?”

“Well, yeah,” Kai says, simply. “Because those other things are real. Vampires aren’t.”

“You didn’t even think the Serpentine were real!” Jay accuses, because Kai’s opinion is clearly trash here, and he obviously should’ve started by attacking Cole, or Nya.

“Jay, chill,” Lloyd says, rolling his eyes. “Whatever it is, it’s not a vampire, unless someone stumbled off the set of a B-movie horror film. They don’t exist, Jay."

Jay opens his mouth, prepared to fire back, because of all the people to argue with him, Lloyd has no right at all, he’s a walking eldritch mutant himself — when Lloyd suddenly continues.

“It’s clearly a werewolf, if anything.”

Jay stops, his mouth half-open. He blinks. “Wait,” he narrows his eyes at him. “You don’t believe in vampires, but you’re game for werewolves?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd shrugs. “Werewolves make sense.”

“And vampires don’t?!”

Lloyd shrugs. “I mean, after Akita and the Formlings, you know?” He pauses, eyes widening as he contemplates something. “Wait. Is Akita technically a werewolf?”

Jay seizes the opportunity. “If she counts as one, then Oni count as vampires,” he argues.

Lloyd frowns at him. “What? No. That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Oh yeah?” Jay counters. “Then explain why they both have fangs. And glowing eyes. And drink blood.”

“I don’t drink blood!” Lloyd exclaims, indignantly. “And neither do Oni!”

“How would you know?” Jay challenges. “You’re just a tiny little quarter Oni.”

Lloyd glares at him. “A quarter Oni with teeth that can bite you—"

“Okay, okay!” Cole says hastily, shouldering between them. “No one’s biting anyone, geez. I’m taking this opportunity to declare it time for bed.”

“Aw, but I didn’t get to trash Kai yet,” Nya yawns, waving absently at the still-scrolling game on the television. Zane quickly turns it off.

“We can trash each other tomorrow, after six a.m. practice,” Cole huffs. Everyone groans in unison at the reminder.

“We should start getting skip days,” Kai grumbles into the pillow. “Like, mandated days we get to just sleep in instead.”

“You would use that every day,” Zane sighs, tugging him up. Jay watches as they slowly pack up, preparing to head off to bed.

Unbelievable.

“Wait, so we’re just gonna let this thing run loose?” he exclaims, waving his arms in the air. “Ignore our civic duty for sleep?”

Cole pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Jay, there’s one article about it, and these kinds of things crop up every year,” he sighs. “It’s just some Halloween pranksters using it as an excuse for petty crime. The police can handle it, okay?”

“But a vampire,” Jay bemoans. “What if it’s real?”

“Or werewolf,” Lloyd corrects. Jay would elbow him for that, but — aha. Lloyd has that spark in his eyes, the one that means trouble. Jay’s hooked at least one person then, even if it’s for the totally wrong reason.

“Whatever it is, according to reports, it will still be here tomorrow,” Zane says. “Halloween isn’t for another day, and it usually strikes then. If it means that much to you, we can look for it then.”

Jay squints skeptically at him. Kai and Cole are both wearing expressions that say they will not be helping with that particular excursion, and Nya’s already halfway into her room, clearly writing him off as well. Hmph.

“But by then, we won’t have a sighting to follow,” Lloyd says, hesitantly.

“Good,” Kai grumbles, apparently done with the conversation. “Then we can forget about make-believe monsters.”

Jay is pleased to find that he and Lloyd are still just as effective at giving people the stink-eye in perfect unison as they’ve always been.

“Drop it, guys,” Cole warns, his dark eyes tired. “You can argue over this in the morning. When we’re all dead tired at dawn practice.”

Jay scowls, but he nods. He knows a lost cause when he sees one.

However, he also knows when a cause isn’t lost. He trades looks with Lloyd from the corner of his eyes, and Lloyd gives him a tiny, imperceptible nod. Halfway into their bedroom, Kai suddenly turns on them.

“And you guys better not sneak out to hunt it down by yourselves,” he says, his eyes narrowed. “The police have it covered. There’s no such things as vampires or werewolves, but if I wake up at three a.m. tonight and find out you guys snuck out, you’re gonna wish one had already killed you.”

“Geez, overreact much?” Jay mutters.

Lloyd rolls his eyes. “We’re not gonna sneak out just to chase down a few rumors, Kai,” he scoffs. “We’re not stupid.”

Kai eyes them both. Jay can almost see him mentally scrolling through Lloyd and Jay’s Best Hits, Screwing-Up Edition, in his brain, and he doesn’t like it. Like Kai has room to talk about dumb decisions.

Kai finally shakes his head, sighing as he heads for his bed. “I swear,” he mutters to himself. “If I have to fish you out of a river later…”

“You won’t!” Lloyd promises cheerfully. “Word of honor.”

**************

As it turns out, Lloyd’s word of honor is garbage. But so is Jay’s, so he’s not gonna judge.

“Okay, the reports said it was last sighted over in the east sector in the sewer tunnels, so I vote we start here,” Jay tells him in a hushed voice, as they plot their path from one of the city rooftops, the dim streetlights blinking down below. “There’s a bunch of bars and stuff around, so if I was looking to steal someone’s wallet by biting them, I’d go here. Down for a stakeout?”

“I’m game,” Lloyd says, slightly muffled through his mouth of—

Jay blinks at him incredulously. “Are you eating our garlic bread right now?”

Lloyd freezes, shifting guiltily and quickly swallowing. “No-o?”

“Lloyd!” Jay hisses. “We need that for the vampire!”

“Then you should’ve gotten actual garlic,” Lloyd hisses back. “I got hungry, and we’re carrying around garlic bread! Can you blame me?”

“Hmph.” Jay glares at him, then snatches the bag Lloyd had been hiding behind him. Lloyd makes a face.

“S’not like we need it anyways,” he mutters. “Garlic doesn’t work against werewolves.”

“It’s not a werewolf,” Jay retorts. “And even if it was, it’s not like we have any silver.” He frowns. “Wait, doesn’t silver work against vampires too? Maybe I should’ve gotten us some…”

“Got it covered,” Lloyd says, pulling a small ziplock bag from his sweatshirt pocket. They’ve opted to wear civilian clothes tonight, as one, they’re trying to be inconspicuous, and two, it’ll make it a lot more difficult for Kai to claim that they were out breaking their promise if they aren’t in very distinctive, undeniable gis.

“I snatched a pair of Nya’s earrings earlier,” Lloyd continues. “Sterling silver counts, right? ‘Cause they even have these little bits on the back you can stab people with.”

Jay blinks rapidly. “You snatched her—"

Well, actually, on second thought, it’s not the worst thing they’ve ever stolen from each other. And it’s definitely not the worst purpose for such a theft, either.

“Okay, nice, we got silver,” Jay says instead, trying not to think about what Nya’s reaction to finding out her earrings were used as lethal injections for a vampire is going to be.

“The better prepared, the lower the chances of dying horribly,” Lloyd says, cheerfully.

“Please don’t phrase it that way.”

“You literally said that exact same thing to me last week, on the Metallonia mission—"

“You must’ve had water in your ears,” Jay waves him off, knowing full well he did say that but having zero intent of admitting it. “Anyways, it’s just one vampire. We can handle this, easy.”

“Or one werewolf,” Lloyd says, pointedly.

Jay takes a very long breath, then lets it out. If it were Kai or Cole, maybe he’d pick the fight. But it’s Lloyd, and he’s risking Unholy Big Brother Wrath as it is.

“Fine,” he half-surrenders. “If it’s a werewolf, we can handle that too. But it’s not, because it’s clearly a vampire.”

“That’s what it wants you to think,” Lloyd grouses.

Jay rolls his eyes, shoving the rest of their supplies back in his ratty old backpack. He cranes his head over the edge of building rooftop, watching the evening crowds just beginning to flood into the bars.

“Now what?” Lloyd whispers, materializing next to him.

Jay, with his reflexes as sharp and well-honed as they are, does not nearly jump off the roof at Lloyd’s sudden appearance. He doesn’t squeak, either, the look Lloyd is giving him is just — Lloyd being a terrible gremlin.

“Now,” Jay clears his throat instead, taking on an air of expertise, because he is an expert. “We wait.”

**************

In the excitement, Jay has, tragically, forgotten how absolutely boring stakeouts are.

Really, he should’ve brought a board game or something.

“—somethin’ strange, in your neighborhood. Who you gonna call.”

Jay punches his hand in the air without enthusiasm where he lies on his back, yawning, “Ghostbusters.”

“Dun dun, dun dun, du-du-dun—" Lloyd continues humming the bridge, staring up at the sky where he’s got his arms beneath his head, sprawled out next to Jay.

“You know, I still swear I heard the ghosts playing this back at Styx,” Jay murmurs.

Lloyd’s humming halts, and he snorts. “Maybe they had a sense of humor.”

“Heh. Yeah.” Jay frowns. “So wait, this is your favorite holiday song? The song about ghosts? Really?”

Lloyd nods. “I ain’t afraid of no ghost,” he sings.

Jay makes a face at him, then shrugs. Well, he guesses he doesn’t have room to judge people’s coping mechanisms. He still deals with spiders by blowing the entire room up. “That’s one way to deal with it, I guess.”

“I like the irony,” Lloyd continues, with a lopsided grin. “Also, like, do any of us deal with our issues?”

“Ye—" Jay pauses, considering. Huh. He knows they’ve all been putting off therapy, but sometimes they, like…cry all over each other? At three in the morning? That counts, right?

He supposes that doesn’t quite equate.

“I stress-baked eight batches of brownies with Cole one night and ate half of them after the Oni thing?” he offers weakly.

Lloyd stuff a fist over his mouth, holding back a laugh. “I ate a whole container of frosting with Nya after the SOG thing.”

“That’s where it all went?” Jay snaps his head up, his eyes accusing. “Lloyd, that was our only cream cheese frosting! I was going to use that for a meltdown!”

“Oops,” Lloyd says, unapologetically. Jay digs his foot into his side, and Lloyd jerks away, giggling.

“You, I’d expect, but Nya…” Jay grumbles, processing this betrayal. “That’s like, cliché teenage heartbreak coping there.”

“Well, I mean,” Lloyd says, his smile suddenly painfully forced. “Kinda…was. A bit.”

Jay frowns. “Wha — oh.”

Oops. Too late, Jay realizes that he has accidentally stumbled into a mine zone. He should know better, seriously — Lloyd probably does not want to talk about teenage heartbreak right now. Or any time…soon, considering his last and only romantic excursion kind of…stabbed him in the back and got crushed by a building. Amongst other things.

“So!” Jay quickly says, trying to cut through the sudden awkwardness and turn the conversation to something better. “How is, uh, your life going, in that…area…?”

Never mind, Jay’s mind screeches at him. Abort, abort, this is going somewhere worse—! Maybe if he’s lucky the vampire will just come attack them now. That would probably go better.

Lloyd’s expression screws up, like Jay’s forced him to eat a lemon, or a ghost pepper, or like, swallow pure Venomari venom. “You mean my love life?” he spits, as if the word love is a personal insult.

“Not necessarily,” Jay says quickly. “I mean, no, but also…yes?”

“Nonexistent as usual, which is probably the best I can hope for,” Lloyd mutters, kicking at the ground.

Jay bites his cheek in sympathy. His poor baby brother. His voice finally stops cracking and he immediately decides to swear off love for life.

“Look,” Jay says tentatively, feeling like he should at least try to impart some wisdom on his kid brother. “Have you thought about like, I dunno, trying to meet new people? Just like, you know, being open to, uh, the idea of trusting someone…like that?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd grinds his teeth. “I’ve also thought about getting ‘love is a joke’ tattooed on my wrist as a nice reminder because that’s about how well it tends to go for me.”

Jay cringes. “Aha,” he breathes. That is — that is bad. Yikes, that’s…bad bad, maybe they should book a therapist. One of these days. Probably sooner than later, going by that statement.

Lloyd sighs, suddenly deflating. “I dunno, Jay. I just…maybe someday? I don’t really wanna think about it.” The edge of his mouth twists wistfully. “It’d be nice to just be a kid again, so I could stuff my face with candy instead.”

“Hey,” Jay says, elbowing him. “Who says you can’t stuff your face with candy now? We can totally hit up the store on the way home, you know. Zane can’t stop us if he’s not here.”

Lloyd cracks a grin, and Jay is infinitely pleased with himself. “After we catch the werewolf?” Lloyd asks.

Jay glares at him. “After we catch the vampire, and I prove all you heathens wrong,” he grinds out. Lloyd snickers.

“You’re fighting a losing—"

A piercing scream rings out from the streets below, and Lloyd and Jay jolt to their feet in well-experienced unison. Jay sweeps his eyes across the street below, his head whipping widely back and forth as he tries to spot—

“There!” Lloyd calls, already sliding down the fire escape. Jay follows his arm, and spots a disheveled man now crumpled in the street, other partygoers crowding around him. Lloyd’s hand is pointing just beyond, though, locked on the shadowed, dark figure fleeing into the alleyway.

Jay grins viciously at him. Lloyd grins back.

Normally, they’d have Zane at their backs, insisting on safety and such nonsense, but tonight it’s just Lloyd and Jay, who gold-medal at being an awful combination of adrenaline junkies. So by the time they’ve finished hurling themselves off the building and surfing down a couple of unfortunate clotheslines, they land in perfect synch just behind the fleeing figure. They immediately break into a sprint, following their quarry down the dark alleyways and gaining rapidly.

One of the few perks to being the smallest on the team — Jay and Lloyd are fast.

The figure jolts, finally realizing it’s being pursued, and suddenly takes a hard left. Jay yelps as he almost overbalances, his momentum nearly toppling him before Lloyd catches his arm, yanking him upright. They follow where the figure’s fled into an abandoned tunnel, one of the ones Jay recognizes leads to the sewer.

“Why in here?!” he gasps between breathes, as their feet splash through dirty rainwater the deeper they go. Ugh, he hates these tunnels — they’re too small and close and dark.

Lloyd doesn’t grace him with a reply, simply lifting his hand up in an eerie, makeshift green flashlight that lights up the tunnels around them.

“They went that way!” He hurls the bright globe of energy down the tunnel, throwing green shadows up all around, and illuminating their prey far ahead.

Darn it, Jay curses to himself. He forgot vampires are supposed to be fast, too. They need a way better plan then just running after it.

“Trap, we need a trap,” Jay pants. “What do they do in Scooby-Doo to catch the vampire?”

Lloyd glances at him incredulously as he runs beside him, his hair dyed a white-green in the eerie light where it bounces around his head. “Scooby-Doo?!” he exclaims. “There aren’t any vampires in Scooby-Doo!”

“Uh, yeah there are,” Jay argues, ducking under a rusted pipe. He almost has to pause to swipe his own hair out of the way before he gets blinded by falling curls. Mental note, book a haircut later. “Remember that movie with the bands and stuff?”

“Oh. Right,” Lloyd huffs, sliding through a puddle of water. “Forgot about that. Don’t they die or something?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you! Come up with a plan, you’re leader!”

“Not right now, I’m not!”

“You can’t do that — you’re our designated team captain, live up to your role!”

“Only in big crisis situations!”

“This is a crisis!”

“Fine! Here’s me leading — I order you to come up with a plan.”

“Oh for — what kind of Green Ninja even are you, huh?”

“Oh yeah, static for brai—agh!”

Their argument is cut short as the floor suddenly decides to take the day off, and drops neatly out from beneath their feet. Jay screams, Lloyd shrieking beside him as they both go tumbling down the sloping sewer tunnel, sliding through broken rock and upturned stone. The sharp slope finally evens out, leaving them to roll to a graceless stop in a heap of limbs and freezing rainwater.

“Ew,” Jay scowls, swiping at his hair as he kneels, supporting himself on one hand. “Sewers are the worst.”

“Ge’off me,” Lloyd wheezes, hitting his shoulder. Jay belatedly realizes that he’s got one elbow and a knee digging into Lloyd’s middle, and pulls back quickly.

“Whoops,” he says, cheerfully. “Hey, no broken bones, at least!”

Lloyd just makes a face, straightening his hoodie. He pushes himself to his feet, offering a hand to Jay and hauling him up. Jay brings a crackle of lightning up in his fingers, squinting around the tunnel they’ve fallen into. Lloyd finally remembers to pull out their actual flashlight, and shines it warily around the tunnel, lighting up the old, molding stone around them.

“D’you think they fell, too?” Lloyd questions, taking a hesitant step forward as he brandishes the flashlight like a weapon.

Jay shrugs. “Vampires aren’t normally clumsy,” he says, starting down the tunnel. “But who knows.”

Lloyd pauses for a moment, reluctant, then quickly hurries to catch up, falling into step beside him.

“Ninja aren’t normally clumsy either,” he huffs.

Jay snorts. “Have you seen us?”

Lloyd eyes him. “I control your training schedule, you know.”

“A heinous abuse of power which never should have been given to you,” Jay sniffs.

Lloyd’s eyes narrow. “I’ll stick you on stair sprints. Endless. Stair sprints.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jay retorts. “You’re too chicken to do that. Too soft.”

“I am not!” Lloyd says, offended. “I’ll make you run a gazillion stair sprints, watch me.”

“Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do when I start tearing up on you, Mr. Marshmallow Heart?”

“My heart is not a marshmallow,” Lloyd grinds out. “It’s—"

“More like cotton candy,” Jay nods. “‘Cause you hit it with one tear and it melts all over the place.”

“I will trip you face-first into sewer water,” Lloyd threatens. “And stop using candy metaphors. I’m starving, and you won’t let me eat the garlic bread.”

“That’s ‘cause we need it for the vampire!” Jay huffs.

“Werewolf.”

Jay throws his hands up.  “Do you need glasses or something? Because tell me, please, if that looked anything like a were—"

Jay cuts off abruptly as he and Lloyd freeze. Directly across from them, a mere ten feet away in the connecting tunnel, the hooded figure they’ve been chasing freezes as well. For a beat, the three stare at each other, the only sound the steady drip-drip of the sewer tunnels around them.

Then—

“It’s the vampire! Grab it!” Jay yells.

He and Lloyd dart forward just as the vampire makes to run, turning for the tunnel. Jay side-steps, using the wall to push himself up and flip neatly over the vampire’s head, landing in the tunnel before them and neatly cutting them off. “Gotcha,” he grins.

The vampire’s eyes widen from beneath their hood, and they backtrack, only to nearly run into Lloyd, who points the flashlight threateningly at them.

“Stand down,” he orders. Jay rolls his eyes. Oh, now he decides to sound like a leader.

The vampire makes a hissing noise of frustration, shaking their head. Lloyd goes to move forward, a familiar green glinting at the edges of his fingertips—

When the vampire suddenly snaps into action, rushing at Lloyd. Before Jay can blink, they snap a leg up to kick the flashlight from Lloyd’s grasp, snag him with their forearm, bare two glinting teeth, and—

Snap. Lloyd gasps sharply, his eyes going wide as the vampire bites right into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Jay shrieks. “Lloy—!”

His scream cuts off, trailing into a gaping wheeze.

Jay is not entirely sure what — no, he’s not sure why what happen next happens. Maybe Lloyd panics. Maybe he forgets he’s a god-powered elemental with the capability of blasting people to heck with his hands for a second. Maybe both his Oni and dragon instincts decide to suddenly kick in and overpower the human. Or maybe he’s just so ticked at getting bit in the neck that his childish side comes out with a vengeance.

Either way, not even half a second after the vampire bites him, Lloyd snaps out his own too-sharp teeth and bites right back, firmly chomping down on the forearm pinning him in place.

The vampire gives a muffled scream, releasing Lloyd as they stumble backward, frantically clutching their arm. Jay takes this chance to send a bright bolt of lightning after them, just barely missing as they turn and flee, skittering away down the tunnels. Any other time Jay would give chase, but he’s got a slightly more pressing concern right now, and by that he means a big fat bad concern, because his brother is currently sporting a bleeding neck and trying to hack his own lung up.

“Oh god, the vampire bit you, Lloyd, the vampire bit you,” Jay babbles frantically, dancing around Lloyd as he doubles over, coughing and spitting frantically.

“—freaking — gross—"

“But —but then you bit the vampire,” Jay pauses, eyebrows furrowing. “So does that like — negate it?”

“—need hand sanitizer in m’a mouth—"

“Or does the vampire turn into an Oni?” Jay rubs his head. “Wait, wait no — you both swap, because you bit each other, so—"

“—tastes like battery acid—"

“Either way your neck is bleeding and why didn’t you just use your powers!” Jay shrieks at him.

“I panicked, okay?!” Lloyd cries in defense, wiping his mouth as he sticks his tongue out, clearly trying to rid himself of the taste. “Ugh — gimme that garlic bread, this is awful—"

“No way,” Jay snatches his bag away. “We definitely need it now.” His eyes narrow down on the two sluggishly bleeding marks on Lloyd’s neck, that he should really be patching up, actually, but first—

“Besides, garlic could be toxic for you right now! Since you might be turning into a…a vampire.”

Lloyd turns two smoldering, angry red eyes on him, and Jay swallows. Oh FSM, he’s already turning into a vampire, his eyes are red—

Oh wait, right, Lloyd’s eyes are red anyways.

“I am not turning into a vampire!” Lloyd hisses. He winces, clapping a hand over his neck. “I probably have like, rabies or something though,” he says, half-panicked.

“I don’t think vampires have rabies,” Jay tries to assure him, finally shaking himself into action, pulling his jacket off and pressing one of the sleeves against Lloyd’s bleeding neck. Lloyd jerks away on instinct, before letting Jay examine it.

“I can’t turn into a vampire,” Lloyd says, an edge of fear in his voice. “Kai’ll kill me if I turn into a vampire.”

“That’s your main concern?” Jay exclaims, swiping blood away — the bite doesn’t look too deep, and it seems like it won’t need stitches, or anything. He suddenly pauses, considering Lloyd’s words. “Okay, I will admit you have a valid point there,” he concedes.

Lloyd nods tightly, then makes a face before spitting again.

“So gross.”

Jay watches him, then speaks up hesitantly. “I mean…you have to admit that it’s definitely a vampire now, right, haha? Like, not to say I told you so, but—”

Lloyd turns his head, ever so slowly, his eyes narrowing into slits as he does.

“I will kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

**************

In a noble sacrifice of true brotherly love, Jay lets Lloyd get his weird mutant blood all over his hoodie as he uses it as a makeshift bandage.

“Rude,” Lloyd mutters, sounding wounded.

“Weird mutant blood is cool,” Jay assures him. “You Oni-dragon-hybrid, you.”

“I don’t even get any of the cool stuff, like shapeshifting or wings.”

“Yeah, that is a pretty lame tradeoff,” Jay admits. He pats his hoodie where it’s wrapped around Lloyd’s neck once more, nodding. “There. We’ll just…dump an entire bottle of sanitizer on it when we get home.”

“Can’t wait,” Lloyd sighs. His eyebrows furrow into determination. “After we catch this thing, though. It’s personal now.”

“Agreed,” Jay says. “But we definitely need a plan this time, ‘cause like, the biting thing worked, but it worst-case-scenario worked, you know? We need something a little less primitive, like, say, um…”

“Like this?”

Jay turns to Lloyd where he’s bent over one of the canal drains. He lifts the object he’s fished out, revealing a soaked but intact fishing net, likely abandoned from one of the boats.

A grin spreads across Jay’s face. “I have a plan now,” he says.

“Good,” Lloyd breathes in relief.

“You’re bait.”

Relief successfully obliterated. “Wait—"

**************

Jay’s wristwatch glows a dim 3:30 in the morning by the time their vampire finally takes the bait.

Said bait is very put out at being bait, granted, and is doing a frankly awful job at it, if anyone asked him, but he supposes that’s the best he can ask out of Lloyd when he’s been denying him their garlic bread the whole night.

“Oh no,” Lloyd intones dully, kicking through the tunnel water half-heartedly. “I’ve lost my way, whatever am I going to do with all this money in my wallet.”

“Boo,” Jay hisses at him, where he’s perched atop of a broken sewer pipe. Lloyd pauses his melodramatics to glare at him.

“I’d like to see you do better.”

“Oh no, you’re a much better damsel in distress than I am,” Jay assures him.

Lloyd looks furious. “Listen—"

He might’ve finished, but then the vampire jumps him from the shadows, and they both go tumbling as Lloyd’s voice turns to a shriek.

“Don’t die!” Jay hollers as he jumps down onto the vampire, startling a shriek out of them as he desperately tries to yank them off of Lloyd. “Roll, roll, get out of teeth range!”

“I’m trying!” Lloyd yelps, twisting himself free from the vampire’s grasp. The vampire makes to grab him, but Jay is already pouncing, tossing the net out so they run smack into it and go flailing to the floor, twisting themselves further and further into the rope webbing.

“Oh, thank FSM,” Lloyd mutters into the ground, where he’s yet to move. Jay ignores him, giving a cheer of triumph as he finishes knotting off the net.

“We got it!” he gasps, stepping back and surveying their struggling captive. “We caught the vampire!” He turns to Lloyd, grinning brightly in victory.

“Everyone else is gonna eat their words.” Lloyd nods, and Jay holds his hand out, slapping it against Lloyd’s before knocking their fists together.

Who’s stupid now, Kai? he thinks triumphantly.

Striding forward, he places his hands on his hips, smirking down at the vampire where it writhes against the net they’ve caught it in. He bends over, yanking their hood down.

“No use struggling. We got you now, you malevolent creature of the ni — ight, wait.” Jay blinks rapidly, staring at their quarry. “You’re….not a vampire?”

“No, you ssstupid human.”

Oh. Oh. Jay is incredibly, massively, thoroughly disappointed to realize that the figure on the ground glaring daggers at him, is not, in fact, a vampire. Not unless vampires come in Serpentine flavors.

“A Serpentine?” Lloyd blinks rapidly, looking as colossally disappointed as Jay is. “Aw man, we both lose, then.”

“A weird Serpentine,” Jay frowns, leaning closer. “This one’s got hair. Why do you have hair?”

The Serpentine — who is a she, from the looks of it — rolls her eyes. “I’m part human,” she hisses. “Ssso I do not look like other Ssserpentine. You humansss are just ssstupid enough to think I am a vampire.”

Jay opens his mouth, then shuts it. “Ah,” he says. He then brightens, glancing at Lloyd.  “Oh hey, you have that in common, then! Lloyd’s a freaky mutant anomaly of nature, just like you.”

“Hey!” Lloyd exclaims, looking offended. “A freaky mutant anomaly?”

“I mean it in love, Lloyd.”

“Would you let me out of thissss infuriating net.”

“Uh, yeah, no can do, pal,” Jay replies to the furious Serpentine. “We aren’t letting you off the hook just ‘cause you told us what you were. You’ve been running around and biting people in the neck and stealing their wallets.”

“You bit me,” Lloyd accuses, glaring hotly at her.

“You bit me back,” the Serpentine snarls at him.

“You bit me first!”

“Guys, guys, it’s not a contest,” Jay laughs, a little nervously. “Please. Calm your mutant anomaly selves.”

Lloyd looks as if he’s going to smack him — which he probably should, all honesty, Jay’s been pushing him — but the Serpentine just frowns.

“How issss he one?” she scoffs at Lloyd. “He looksss like a normal human. Maybe with rabiesss.”

Lloyd looks incredibly offended. “Like you can talk.” He shakes his head, sighing. “I’m…part Oni. And dragon. A bit.”

The Serpentine's mouth drops open, and the color leeches from her face. “O-Oni?” She stammers. She looks at the hastily bandaged wound on her arm in alarm. “Did you poissson me?”

“Wha—no!” Lloyd exclaims. “Oni aren’t poisonous!”

He pauses. So do Jay and the Serpentine, leaving the tunnel in silence for a beat.

“I don’t….think?” He turns to Jay, eyebrows furrowed in question.

Jay shrugs. He’s not the one with a bunch of inhuman relatives. “I mean, she hasn’t gone all, y’know — grey-skinned, purple-eyed, turned-to-stone, so?”

This does nothing whatsoever to quell the look of fear on the face of— Jay frowns. “Hey, what’s your name, by the way?”

“What, ssso you can tell the copsss?” their Serpentine hisses dully.

“Well, you’re a criminal, so,” Jay shrugs. “But look at it this way — I won’t call you Elvira Vampira, Terror of the Night, the whole way back instead.”

The Serpentine rolls her eyes, but she does look mildly threatened at being called Vampira for the rest of the evening.

“My name is Sssiri,” she finally admits, looking put out.

“Siri?” Lloyd blinks. “Like the phone voice?”

The Serpentine makes a face as if he’s called her the scum of the earth instead. “I hate that ssstupid company,” she hisses. “And their ssstupid phone voicesss. I hate them.”

“That’s nice,” Jay tells her. He exhales, placing his hands on his hips. He glances at Lloyd, who looks every bit as tired.

“Time to drag her to the police?”

“Time to drag her to the police,” Lloyd sighs, sounding disappointed, if not a bit vindictive.

**************

The cops are nice, at least, and the guy whose wallet got snatched thanks them profusely, so the night doesn’t end up being a total bust. Everyone looks pretty relieved that there isn’t an actual vampire running around, though, which Jay feels a little resentful at, because he’s losing a bet here.

“Hey, cheer up,” Lloyd tells him, elbowing him lightly. “At least no one ever has to know about it.”

“True,” Jay admits. He gives a sigh of melancholy, watching as the cops lead a put-out Siri into the car. He glances at Lloyd, then grins wickedly.

“Hey!” he calls quickly, waving at Siri. He slaps a hand on Lloyd’s shoulder, shaking him. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you? Because this guy here is a hundred percent single and looking to ack—"

Jay’s idea is immediately torpedoed by Lloyd viciously throttling him in front of the entire crime unit.

“Jay what the heck!” he whisper-shrieks, sounding on the verge of an aneurism.

“I’m trying — to get you — back in the game—" Jay croaks out.

“With a neck-biting criminal?!”

“I wouldn’t be oppossssed,” Siri remarks, cocking her head as she studies Lloyd.

Lloyd goes an odd purple-scarlet color, then immediately turns on heel, marching away and looking not a little bit like his father storming off to destroy a village.

“He’ll call you!” Jay mouths at Siri, before hurrying after Lloyd. “Well, I’d call that a mild success, at least.”

“I am not calling her,” Lloyd grinds out, as he stomps down the street.

“Oh, obviously,” Jay says. He snickers. “Can you imagine Kai’s reaction, though? He’d blow five blood vessels at once.”

Lloyd remains stubbornly stoic, glaring forward. Jay winces. Oops, crossed a line. Still too sensitive. Maybe he can try again in like…a year.

“Hey, on the bright side,” Jay tries. “We can eat the rest of the garlic bread now?”

Lloyd’s pace slows. Jay holds out half of the buttery loaf they have left. Lloyd eyes him for a second, but Jay can see his resolve quickly dying. Lloyd finally snatches it, sighing.

“Tha’ is a bright side,” he says, through a mouthful.

“Garlic bread solves half y’er problems,” Jay nods through his own bite, pleased to find that it’s still good, even if cold.

They walk in silence for a minute, quietly chewing at the rest of the bread. Then Lloyd speaks up.

“Like….can you imagine being a real vampire though? And you couldn’t eat garlic bread?”

“Oh yeah, that would suck.”

“Seriously. I wonder if it’s maybe like, a lactose intolerance thing, where they can have a little bit before breaking into vampire hives or something?”

“Or maybe it’s like a peanut allergy thing, where their throats swell up and they have to use like, vampire Epipens.”

“If I was a vampire, I’d risk it either way.”

“Oh yeah, same. Totally worth it.”

“Totally.”

**************

The thing people tend to overlook about Jay is that, despite how loud he can be — and yeah, he’s admitting it, he can be a big enough person to recognize that he can get a bit worked-up sometimes — anyways, despite how everyone seems to think Jay has one default mode, he is, in fact, one of the best people on the team at sneaking. It’s one of the perks of being small — he’s learned to be light enough on his feet that even Zane can’t pick him up. And everyone expects him to come in all excited and loud anyways, so Jay’s got that advantage. No one expects him to be quiet.

And it is, of course, a trait he’s dutifully passed on to his little brother, who already has experience from sneaking around Darkley’s and lurking in Serpentine tombs, so by the time the alarm is an hour away from going off, Lloyd and Jay are safely back in bed, snoring quietly with the others, who are none the wiser.

Granted, Jay’s got the worst eye-bags ever in the morning, and Lloyd’s running a record for how long he can get around without actually opening his eyes — but Cole doesn’t say anything, and Zane isn’t looking at them suspiciously, so voila! They are off the hook.

Jay supposes he has the usual array of night terrors to thank for that. Always a good cover for sleeplessness, those.

He does have to drag Lloyd to the bathroom first so they can fix his gi collar high enough to hide the rather incriminating bite marks. Jay doesn’t even want to think about explaining those, because any plausible excuses he can come up with for them are just more likely to make Kai barbecue Jay on the spot.

“Good to see you this morning,” Cole tells him pointedly, as he joins the team around the breakfast table. Jay resists the urge to shoot him a gesture, and grabs for the coffee pot instead.

“Did you sleep alright?” Kai is asking Lloyd from across him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Jay can’t really blame him, seeing as Lloyd keeps falling asleep in his cereal, dark circles vivid beneath his eyes.

“Jus’ tired,” Lloyd yawns. “Didn’t sleep that well."

Kai pats him lightly on the shoulder, looking sympathetic. “Take a nap or something later,” he tells him. “For my sake.”

Lloyd nods, and Jay leans back in his seat, sipping contentedly at his coffee. As he said, no one suspects a thing. All’s well that ends well.

And then Zane turns the radio on.

“—the neck-biting thief was caught early this morning by the Ninjago City Police, with the aid of two accomplices—”

Jay goes pale.

“Huh, isn’t that what you guys were talking about last night?” Nya remarks.

Jay and Lloyd look at each other, their eyes wide. In a desperate grab for survival, Jay dives for the radio, fully prepared to hit it with a lightning bolt if it means turning it off before—

“—special thanks, of course, to the green and blue ninja, looking out for us as always.”

Jay finally smacks the radio off, plunging the kitchen into silence. There is a long, ominous pause of utter dread. Kai slowly turns to look at Lloyd.

“You went after them—"

“We didn’t!” Lloyd says quickly. “That’s not what we were doing!”

“Oh yeah?” Kai says, and uh oh, that’s a scary look. “You’d better have a heck of an excuse, then.”

“We do, we have a really good excuse,” Jay defends quickly. “We were out there for something way more important.”

“Oh?” Cole says, looking close to blowing a gasket. “And what was that, exactly?”

“Well,” Jay says, looking Kai dead in the eye. “We were trying to get Lloyd a hot date.”

Then, before anyone can react, Jay grabs a sputtering Lloyd by the hand and runs.

#answered #my fic #i forGOT how long this one was gndjfgk

[hopeisour4letteredword]

personal furnace, ch8 (final)

Summary: Winter renovations at the inn in Zaphias leave Yuri in need of a warm bunk for the night. Good thing he can always count on his good buddy Flynn.

Read it below or at the link to AO3 in the notes.

He tries to get on with the rest of his day. It's difficult. Flynn doesn't like to think of himself as a coward, but he'd never quite had the courage to spend a lot of time daydreaming about what would happen if Yuri rejected his affections. Now his failure of imagination means he lacks a mental contingency plan to fall back on. He goes through the motions, mostly. Goes to his meetings with Ioder and the Knights' captains and hopefully doesn't make a complete fool of himself. He says all the right things, he thinks. Remembers most of what he wanted to address—his notes help. Goes to train with some of the rookie Knights and tries not to pummel them too hard. Goes back to his room to flip through documents. That one is the worst. He can't focus at all, not sitting in his chair in the room where he managed to drive off the most important person in his life.

Eventually he gives up, disgusted with himself, much earlier in the evening than he usually would. He feels unreasonably exhausted. Surely he shouldn't be. He's slept more soundly over the last week with Yuri than he has in months. There's no reason for him to be so bone-tired. But he's clearly not going to be able to force himself to get anything done, so he might as well call it a night. He's just finished changing into pajamas and is stoking the fire one last time for the night when the knock at the window comes.

Flynn stares at the closed curtains for a long moment in amazement. The poker is clutched, forgotten, in his hand. When the knock comes again, accompanied now by a crabby-sounding, "Flynn!" he tosses it to the side thoughtlessly and half-sprints to shove the curtains aside and open the window. Yuri glowers at him even as he climbs inside. No wonder he's so irritated. He's come without his coat again.

"What kept you? Holy shit, were you actually in bed at a reasonable hour?"

“I hadn't yet—come in, good grief,” Flynn says, somewhat stupidly with Yuri already tumbling into the room and halfway into Flynn’s arms. Flynn grabs a blanket off the bed to wrap around his shoulders haphazardly with one hand and slams the window back closed with the other. “Is Mariam really still insisting that your room isn’t fixed?”

“No,” Yuri says, curtly. He shivers violently even as Flynn adjusts the blanket around him. “It’s fixed. Been fixed for a while, apparently.”

Flynn freezes, surprised. Yuri snorts when Flynn blinks at him in bewilderment. “You know I still have shit I’m supposed to be getting done for Brave Vesperia, right?”

“I—well, yes, but—“

“And I’d really rather have my own damn space to do that, rather than working off a corner of the Commandant’s desk? There’s shit for the Guilds I really shouldn’t be waving around in front of the Knights, y’know.”

“I—“ Flynn’s heart is in his throat. He couldn’t dare to presume—

Yuri presumes for him. He elbows the rest of his way into Flynn’s space, blanket and all, until Flynn is forced to either take Yuri into his arms or fall a stumbling step back.

(He takes Yuri into his arms, of course. Yuri’s still so cold, it practically radiates off him at close quarters. Flynn can’t not share his body heat, it would just be cruel. How could he not warm Yuri up when the option is there?)

“If you want me in your bed,” Yuri says, voice low, “All you had to do was ask. All you ever had to do was ask. You don’t need stupid excuses. Alright?”

“Alright,” Flynn echoes, feeling a bit faint. His hands had settled for a safe, respectful stabilizing grip on Yuri’s elbows, but now he moves them tentatively to Yuri’s hips. Yuri leans into the contact. It feels like Flynn’s brain kickstarts back into action, finally processing the last thirty seconds, and a giddy smile spreads across his face. “Yuri...”

“You’re still in trouble,” Yuri says, stubbornly. The splotchy pink of cold on his cheeks slowly fills out into a deeper, more consistent red blush as Flynn watches. “For letting Mariam fuck around with me.”

“I didn’t—“ Flynn starts to protest, then thinks better of it, setting his weight back on his heels with a sigh. He’s got his hands on Yuri’s hips, an intimacy he wouldn’t have dared try just this morning, and Yuri more or less volunteering to spend more time in his bed. If the consequences of a petty lie are his price for that, so be it. He’ll pay gladly. “Alright. I’m sorry.”

“Should be,” Yuri says. He bullies his way even closer so that he can shove his face into the crook of Flynn’s shoulder, cold nose pressed up against Flynn’s neck. Flynn barely flinches; it’s no worse than all the times Yuri has shoved cold fingers on him as a joke over the years, and this has vastly more appealing side benefits to make up for the slight discomfort. He wraps his arms more solidly behind Yuri’s back. “Haven’t gotten any damn guild work done in a week because I knew if I took the request missives out to look at in the inn’s dining area, the kids’d vanish them as soon as I turned my back.”

“You were no better at their age,” Flynn points out. He strokes once, cautiously, over Yuri’s shoulder blades. When that’s allowed without objection, he starts rubbing gentle circles into Yuri’s back over the blanket. Maybe he can massage some warmth back into him this way. “Worse, probably.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to have to tell Karol I didn’t do the job ‘cause some kid fed the directions to their dog."

“Or your dog.”

“Don’t get me started on Repede. Mariam said he's been sleeping in the fixed room since the third day.”

Flynn bursts into startled laughter, unable to stop himself even when Yuri smacks him lightly on the bicep with annoyance. “Has he really?”

“Yeah, the little shit.”

“Smart dog,” Flynn says, fondly. Yuri rolls his eyes. Flynn can’t see it, but he knows.

“Smarter than either of his masters, apparently.”

“If you come in through the doors, he could join his masters.”

“First of all,” Yuri says, “Still not interested in talking to any other Knights. Second, I don’t know what page you managed to get lost on if you want Repede in here with us while we’re trying to make out.”

Flynn stills. Yuri waits him out for a few beats before he says, anxious and trying to cover it with flippancy, “I mean, unless I’m the one on the wrong page—“

“No,” Flynn blurts out. He hugs Yuri close to him, squeezing probably too tightly in his rush to show conviction. Yuri grumbles out a sound of protest and Flynn loosens his grip. “No, you’re on the right page. Of course. You’re right, I wasn’t thinking. As long as he’s got someplace else to keep warm for the night.”

“Repede always finds his way,” Yuri says, sounding much more at ease now.

“Come on. I’ve kept you waiting long enough, let’s get you under the covers. Do you want a change of pajamas?”

“No,” Yuri says. He shakes off Flynn’s embrace to step back, handing him the blanket before he starts to strip. Is Flynn allowed to openly enjoy this now? Yuri hardly gave him a chance to look away, although he turns pink again when he realizes Flynn is blatantly staring at the skin revealed when he strips out of each layer. “Should be warm enough with just blankets and you, I think. I'd rather sleep in my underwear.”

“You just want to put off doing laundry.”

“I’m not even the one doing the hypothetical pajama laundry. This is your laundry, Mr. I-have-maids-now.”

Flynn watches raptly as Yuri shimmies his pants down to his knees, then yanks his legs out of his boots and pants at the same time, one by one. He grabs the boots and tosses them to the side with the pants still tucked in.

“That seemed like more hassle than just taking them off individually.”

“The way you’re looking at me right now, I’m afraid you’ll eat me alive if I do this in a way normal enough to be even remotely sexy,” Yuri says, prompting heat to rush to Flynn’s own cheeks. “And I’m sorry to disappoint, but I would actually like to be able to feel my limbs when we cross that bridge, so that's not happening tonight.”

“My intentions are pure,” Flynn says, firmly. Yuri has the gall to laugh incredulously as he takes off his socks and throws them the way of his boots. “Oh, stop it, I’ve never gotten to look just for the sake of looking before!”

“I told you, you could’ve looked any time if you just asked.”

“Well,” Flynn says. He could say he didn’t know that at the time, but... he’s not stupid. He had a vague awareness that the way he and Yuri behave with each other was already not, strictly speaking, standard platonic friendship. He doesn’t know how to explain the bizarre, Yuri-induced blind spot in his feelings that has him stunned to find out Yuri reciprocates. That’s love, he supposes. “You weren’t asking either.”

Yuri turns even redder. "How was I supposed to know you were interested?"

"Basic social signals?" Flynn suggests. Now down to his underwear, Yuri begins to shiver again. Flynn tucks the blanket back around his shoulders and gathers him close, letting him huddle against Flynn's warm body. "I don't think I've been terribly subtle."

"You weren't that obvious either," Yuri mutters, ducking down to hide his face against Flynn's shoulder again. Hmm. Flynn disagrees, but he can hardly judge. Apparently there's a corresponding Flynn-induced blind spot in Yuri's feelings. How endearing. Yuri's usually so self-assured. "Are we getting into bed or what? I'm still freezing, here."

"Bed," Flynn agrees. He shuffles toward the bed, pulling Yuri along with him. Yuri follows, almost stepping on Flynn's toes in his insistence to stay close to the warmth of Flynn's body. Flynn regretfully has to let go of Yuri to pull back the covers. Yuri crawls in first, still wrapped snugly in the extra blanket. That's normal enough. What's new, what makes Flynn's heart flutter, is the way he wriggles his arms free and reaches for Flynn. Flynn hurries to slide under the blankets after him, pulling the wool and downy quilts over their shoulders as he half-throws himself into Yuri's arms. Yuri huffs out a quiet laugh. His arms fold around Flynn's back as Flynn shamelessly snuggles in close. His cheeks are still flushed a gentle pink.

"Don't concuss me, moron."

"I was about to ask to kiss you before you were so mean," Flynn says. Yuri's eyes go wide. "Since I believe there was some talk of making out."

"There was also talk of me being able to feel my limbs," Yuri says, but it's softly-spoken and his face drifts closer to Flynn's until their noses bump, foreheads pressed together. "And my fingers are still pretty stiff right now."

"We don't have to do anything but kiss," Flynn says, just as softly. "And not even that if you don't want. But I'd like to, if you're up for it."

In answer, Yuri nudges forward the last bare inch to press his mouth gently to Flynn's. His lips are a little chapped—Flynn will have to see about getting him some beeswax balm, he thinks, distractedly—and they apply but faint, tentative pressure, but it's still the best kiss Flynn has ever participated in, simply by virtue of having come from Yuri.

When Yuri pulls back and tilts his face, adjusting the angle, to lean in again—that, anew, is the best kiss Flynn has ever had.

And so is the next one.

And the next one.

And—

---

Yuri is snoring gently against his throat when Flynn wakes. Technically speaking, this could have easily happened on any other morning this week. But it feels more special, to know Yuri fell asleep like this. That he meant to be in exactly this position and he didn't want to move all night, that he's happy and comfortable like this.

Flynn lays there for a series of long moments, recalling the previous night, preening in the satisfaction of having Yuri voluntarily wound into his embrace, of Yuri returning that embrace. The satisfaction of Yuri, annoyed as all hell with him for allowing meddling in their personal affairs, still coming back to tell Flynn he wanted to be in Flynn's bed as much as Flynn wanted him in Flynn's bed. The satisfaction of all you ever had to do was ask. Flynn wonders, somewhat wistfully, what else he's allowed to ask for. Dare he dream of things even better than Yuri cozy and affectionate in his arms, even better than soft kisses before they fall asleep tangled up in each other?

But Flynn is a man of duty, and he's awake now because of routine, so alas. Time to get up, he thinks, and shifts in preparation to draw back. Then he pauses.

No meetings this morning. No training sessions. He needs to review the budgets for their operations in Tolbyccia before he sees the captains this afternoon, but... that won't take too long. Most of the work he was trying to force himself to focus on yesterday can wait. It isn't urgent.

And Yuri is so warm and comfortable in his arms....

Flynn sets his mind and snuggles back in, kissing the top of Yuri's head. Yuri twitches minutely in his arms and snuffles quietly.

"Mmph?"

"Nothing," Flynn whispers. He strokes along Yuri's bare back. "Go back to sleep."

"Mm," Yuri mumbles. He rouses a little, to Flynn's great disappointment. "You gettin' up?"

"No," Flynn says, still softly. "I'm staying right here."

Yuri hums, pleased. "Good. Too early."

"Rest some more," Flynn says. He kisses the crown of Yuri's head again. Yuri makes another pleased sound. "I'll be here when you wake up."

With Yuri cozy all along his front, Flynn finds himself dozing again too. He'd been too caught off-guard last night to think ahead to the next morning, hadn't bothered to think through the consequences of an impromptu lie-in, so he's snapped back into awareness by the brisk knock at the door that signals Cecelia's entrance. Flynn half-rises in a panic only to be arrested by Yuri's limp weight. Yuri grumbles sleepily, trying to tug him back down to the mattress. Flynn finds himself meeting Cecelia's wide eyes as she freezes in the doorway. The breakfast tray is clutched in her hands so tightly that the wood creaks.

Flynn knows exactly what this tableau must look like—knows that even before he tried to sit up and dislodged some of the quilts, Yuri's shoulders would have been visibly bare above the line of the blankets—and with Yuri burrowed so tightly into Flynn's arms, too—

"Breakfast," Cecelia squeaks. "Sir. Mr. Yuri. I'll—I'll leave it on the desk."

"Thank you," Flynn chokes out, completely mortified. He's not embarrassed of Yuri, but—to have one of the staff actually catch him in bed—

Cecelia curtsies and turns so fast she almost trips over her own feet. The door slams closed behind her.

Yuri snorts.

"Yuri," Flynn hisses, almost hysterically. "If you're awake you could have let go!"

"Punishment," Yuri says, without opening his eyes. He finally succeeds in dragging Flynn back down, and rolls halfway on top of him to snuggle close again. "You're in trouble, remember?"

"I thought that just meant you were cross with me!"

"Think again," Yuri murmurs. It's decidedly more difficult to be angry with him when his mouth touches Flynn's throat on every syllable. Flynn manages nonetheless. "You let me be made a fool of, now you get to be the fool. Prob'ly enough though."

"I—you—don't drag poor Cecelia into that!"

"Cece already thought we were boning," Yuri says, sounding bored. He rolls the rest of the way on top of Flynn's body, the force of his weight pushing a soft grunt out of Flynn. He can take it, but Yuri's still a fully grown man. "That's why she was so offended that you said not to bring breakfast for me, I guess. She thought you were trying to hide our relationship because it was a trust thing. At least that's what Espie said. She overheard me yelling at Mariam and told me Cece asked her for advice about how to show you she was trustworthy."

"Cecelia already thought we were in a relationship?" Flynn demands, baffled. "Why? Because I let you share my room instead of freeze?"

"I'm told it would be less homoerotic if you just put me up in the barracks or some shit."

"I couldn't put you up in the barracks, you hate the barracks. You'd have slept in the cold rather than sleep in the barracks."

"Also you wanted me in your bed," Yuri says, and at least he's not so irritated with Flynn that he doesn't sound satisfied with that. Flynn's heart warms pleasantly at the tone of it. The knowledge that Yuri likes being wanted by him is still fresh enough to give Flynn a frisson of delight.

"Yes, I wanted you in my bed, but that part is definitely homoerotic. I could've made you sleep on the floor for all Cecelia knew."

"I have no control over her rationale. All I knew was that it would be really easy to get you back, so I did. Honestly, you set most of it up yourself."

"...Does this mean Cecelia was also trying to meddle by bringing you breakfast?"

"I don't think so," Yuri says. His expression shifts from sleepy mischief to thoughtfulness. "It sounded like Espie didn't bother to correct her. Cece would have still thought she was showing that she could be chill about me being here."

"Thank the gods," Flynn mutters. He has no idea what he would do with himself if his personal maid had taken it upon herself to interfere with his love life. "Well. You're a terrible brat, but I suppose I forgive you."

"It was no less than you earned," Yuri says, righteously. He might be wrong; Flynn suspects Yuri could come up with much worse than deeply mortifying Flynn as a one-off. If he truly feels that this is enough to punish Flynn for a week of being laughed at behind his back, Flynn should count himself lucky. Yuri yawns and rests his cheek on Flynn's shoulder. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

"You'll be able to fall back asleep alright after all that excitement?"

"Think I'll manage. I'll try, anyway. You?"

"We'll see." Flynn has a fairly regular internal rhythm, after all. He was already a bit surprised to have dozed back off earlier. He's not sure how his body will respond to an attempt to sleep in now that he's had a shot of adrenaline into his veins. He cards his fingers between dark locks of hair. "I can at least stay in the bed a while longer. Keep you nice and warm."

Yuri hums with pleasure again. It vibrates against Flynn's shoulder, making him shiver. "Now you really are my personal furnace."

"And gladly." Flynn kisses him on the forehead. Then he does it again, for good measure. Then again, and again, until Yuri reaches up to slap a hand over his mouth with a grumble of complaint.

"We're trying to sleep."

"Aw," Flynn mumbles, muffled. Yuri tilts his face enough for Flynn to get a glimpse of his expression, which is clearly fighting down sleepy fondness to try to project exasperation. Flynn's heart throbs at the sight.

"More kissing later, sleep now."

"You could sleep through it?"

"I really won't." Yuri removes his hand from Flynn's mouth to press his palm flat to Flynn's chest instead, right over his left breast. "And quit getting excited, your heartbeat is way too fast. We're resting."

"I can't help that."

"Yes, you can. Calm down."

Flynn murmurs some kind of nonsense excuse-apology combination and nudges Yuri to rest his head down again, so that Flynn can tuck his face against his hair. Soft and silky and comforting. Yuri sighs contentedly and nestles down against him.

As ever, the chill of a cold winter's morning threatens from beyond the nest of blankets. Yuri was already hard enough to leave behind as Flynn's own heat source before. Now, with him intentionally cuddled up to Flynn, Flynn loses all motivation for getting up to do other things. Despite his prior concerns, Yuri's right; as soon as Flynn decides to accept his role as pillow instead of showering Yuri with tender affections, he finds himself calming and settling. Yuri's gentle breaths against his throat go slow and even again. Flynn's own breathing steadies in response.

Breakfast will keep, surely. Flynn will just rest his eyes for a moment.

#fluri #flynn scifo #yuri lowell #tales of vesperia #long post #original character