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dragonsoftheeast · 1 year

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Valyrian Name Meanings

I am just really too into baby names and High Valyrian, so here comes a long post about both. So what follows is my headcanon completely, though certain choices (i.e. Aegon) I feel are just too coincidental for David J. Peterson not to have done it on purpose.

Based on established Valyrian words, grouped by root

Aegon: from āegenkon, iron

Aelor, Aelora, Aelyx: from ēlie, first

Aemon, Aemond, Aemma: from aemagon or emagon, to have, own, or contain

Aenys, Aenar: from añogar, blood

Aerea, Aerion, Aerys: from aeragon or aerēbagon, to travel

Aethan: from itatagon, to finish

Alyssa, Alysanne: from ālion, a piece of land

Baelon, Baela, Baelor: from baelagon, to help

Corlys, Corwyn: from korzion, Valyrian steel

Daemion, Daemon: from tēmagon, to prick or poke

Daeron, Daella: from dāez, free

Elaena, Helaena, Laena, Laenor: from elēni, voice or music

Gael: from gēlyn, debt

Gaemon: from gēlyn, debt, and mōris, end

Jacaerys: from jaes, deity, and sēter, spell

Jaehaerys, Jaehaera: from jaes, deity, and aeragon or aerēbagon, to travel

Jaenara: from jaes, deity, and ñages, dawn

Lucerys: from loktys, sailor, and sēter, spell

Maegelle, Maegon, Maegor, Maekar: from maege, prudent or practical, also the root for maegi

Monterys: from manda, kind or courteous

Naerys: from naena, multitude

Rhaegar: from rhēdegon, to be known, to have renown

Rhaelle, Rhaella, Rhae: from rāelagon, to keep or maintain

Rhaenys, Rhaena, Rhaenyra: from rhaenagon, to find

Saera, Shaera: from zāeres, crystal

Shaena: from saelie, third

Vaella, Vaegon: from vēzos, sun

Vaemond: from vēzos, sun, and mōris, end

Valarr, Valerion, Valaena: from valenka, male or masculine

Visenya, Viserys, Viserra: from vestriarzir, story

Based on my own headcanon words

Daena, Daenys, Daenara, Daenerys: from dēnas, lamp or lamplighter

Maelor: from maelagon, to wander

Matarys: from matarion, fountain

For notes on the gendering of Valyrian names:

Some names, namely Aemond, Vaemond, Gael, and Rhaelle, do not decline normally in High Valyrian from what I can tell, though if someone can tell me otherwise I will gladly listen. However, for now I am going to chalk these up as Westerosi influence, and gender the first two as terrestrial-gendered names, and the other two as aquatic gender. I am pulling the rest of this essay completely from my mind, so be warned!

Obviously, the four Valyrian genders (lunar, solar, aquatic, and terrestrial) don’t map exactly onto the male/female naming scheme, but it does seem that the lunar gender is exclusively for female names, though of course this has more to do with GRRM using English naming conventions, and I will also chalk this up to Andal influence as well. Terrestrial gendered names similarly seem masculine-leaning, though there is the notable exception of Alysanne, which I have in the past put down as “Alisān” when referring to her in High Valyrian.

Now, this may be overcomplicating things, but I would just really love it if the gendering of these names was significant- I am basing this a little bit on Chinese baby naming where the radicals that make up a kid’s name are treated superstitiously. When it comes to baby names, I lean more towards the idea that they reveal more about the parents than about the kid themselves, but Valyria also has access to dragon dreamers and prophecy, which does lend itself to the idea that the parents might use some vision of their child’s future to inform their name. Also, the further removed Valyrian speakers are away from the culture, this importance might fade away entirely in favor of what sounds good to the parent- there are only a few names from here that we know came from Valyria itself: Aenar, Daenys, Gaemon, and Jaenara.

Anyway, solar and lunar gendered terms are mostly reserved for humans, so I think gendered names here may center the meaning of the name around the character of the child itself. Solar gendered terms include names of occupations, so I think perhaps solar gendered names refer to what a parent might wish for what the child might do, or a great deed- so it may be a sign of ambition or dreams for a child. Lunar terms in turn might instead refer to traits, so what the child might be, so more like virtue names in English. So we might be able to relate this difference with the name root “Rhaen-”. In the name Rhaenys, the meaning could be interpreted as “finder,” while in Rhaena or Rhaenyra, it would be closer to “found.”

On the other hand, I think aquatic and terrestrial might refer to events that might happen in a child’s life- so this may refer to a prophetic knowledge of what is to come in the child's life. The genders themselves fit their names pretty closely: aquatic gender terms tend to refer to things related to liquids, and terrestrial gender terms tend to refer to things related to the earth. Aquatic gender I think would refer to a pivotal moment in a child’s life- not necessarily good or bad, but a moment that changes the course of a life. Sort of like the sea giving and taking away.

I think terrestrial gendered names might be sort of protective charms, like a shield against terrible events. So we might be able to relate this difference with the name root “Maeg-”. In the names Maegor and Maekar, it would indicate “he will become prudent”, while in Maegon, it would indicate a “may he be prudent because he needs to be.” I think this also adds a new dimension to every single one of Jaehaerys’ sons having a terrestrial gendered name.

To make a full summary with a new name, I am going to be using the name root “Bael-”, which we have examples of three genders for. The one we don’t have, solar, I am going to invent, Baelys, might mean “helper.” In lunar gender, Baela, it might mean “helpful”. In aquatic gender, Baelor, it might mean “he will help/be helped and change his life”. In terrestrial gender, Baelon, it would mean “may he be helped when he needs it.”

So there you have it! My unnecessary but super fun headcanons about Valyrian baby names! Thanks for reading this essay.

#High Valyrian #asoiaf #baby names #name meaning #conlang #hotd #house of the dragon #made all of this #cause I needed to name my #helaemond #babies for #fire made flesh #aemond x helaena #house targaryen #valyria

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asexualzoro · 6 months

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it's december 9th, meaning today is my 23rd birthday (which is my favorite number!), which means it's time for...

Lew Writes Wrapped 2023!!!

im including anything that happened after my last bday, so we have some works from december as well. this one's a bit of a weird one for the total word count, you'll see why

it's all treebark from my sideblog / alt ao3. i cannot change. i will not change. for these im just gonna specify the relationship that's the main focus bc thats easier than fandom bc all but like one are third life

dandelion wishing

(Dec, 2.4k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

op movie 6 au for dogwarts in which Martyn is the baron and Ren doesn't know he's dead

id actually plotted out a whole third life au for this movie like months prior and really wanted to write it, so i took it for treebark week and focused it just on these two. it's my fave movie of all time and i obvs had to give it to my fave completely dead team <3

i will admit tho. it did make me back search martyns twitter to see if hes ever posted abt watching this movie. bc i know he likes One Piece and i realized this would bring me into the danger zone (he hasnt ever posted abt it if hes seen it)

A Romance Route for the Doomed Villain?!?

(Dec, 5k, treebark, oneshot) (link)

treebark dating sim isekai parody that spiraled out of my control made in a day-long possession

im still baffled by this one. why was the response to this one so insane?? there was smth in the water the day i posted this bro. a 1:2 kudos to hits ratio for the entire first day is literally fucking unbelievable. 70 comments?? what hold did this fic have on you people. i got fic written about this one?? my friends goncharov'd me in front of my face

really fucking fun to write and the insane response was smth im always gonna remember. i appreciate you guys so much

treesekai also turns a year old in a few days!

Until the Angels Realize You're Not One of Them

(Feb, 7.2k, emerald duo, oneshot) (link)

a traitor phil au which was mostly just me talking about all the reasons i love technoblade

this one... wasnt actually written this year for the most part? i didnt want to not acknowledge it, since it's on my ao3 in this year, but i wont be able to count it toward the total

still. traitor phil au my beloved. hearing him say on his stream he and techno wanted to do a betrayal arc made me feel insane bc i already had this written at the time

missing or obstructed

(2022-present, 12.9k, Grian & Ren, ongoing) (link)

post 3L fic about Ren and Grian seeking out closure with a lot of funny little sleep metaphors

same deal as the last fic, i, uh dont think i actually wrote anything new for missing or obstructed this year either? just uploaded chapters i wrote last year,,, i didnt wanna now acknowledge it, but i wont count this in my total later

i miss her. one day ill actually sit down and write more missing or obstructed. in my doc im JUST at introducing Martyn and i havent written it yet

to reach my mangled debut

(Sept, 4.2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

it wouldnt be me if i didnt have an execution somewhere in here. another op au!

THIS. I LOVE HER. when rev and i were plotting out the whole storyline for smop renchanting i was begging please give me this scene i need it and i had so much fun writing it. i rlly need to finish soon but i haven’t had time but please. please check out smop. she’s top of my priority list to update

Three-Dog Night

(Sept, 6.7k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

BIG DOG. beauty and the beast au!

god im so fond of this au. there’s some rlly good scenes written for this and unposted bc i just need to link them together. honestly i think if i took a month and focused it on this fic alone i could fucking finish it but i don’t have the time ;-;

that said i’m so enamored w this au genuinely. o dunno what else to say i just think. puppy

Cover Me In Roses

(Sept, 3.3k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

lamplight roleswap! put Martyn in a flower pot

i don’t feel as motivated to work on this one when i have lamplight unfinished so it’s lower on my priorities but know i have like an entire arc of this written and unposted. we just have a few paths for this one and i have to decide which one to use

it’s so wild to me lamplight has like. aus. like this isn’t even the only one? a roleswap. that’s insane? it’s wild that you all like lamplight enough i can even get away with this

First Sign of a House Fire

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i love superhero stories for two reasons: plots about secrets and adapting the characters to give them powers. this had smth fun for both of them

yellow rose isn’t super high on my list of priorities to update (i think the oneshot is interesting on its own) but one day,,,, it’s part of the many aus cherri and i have but it’s the longest for sure. the doc for just this au is like 100k words long on its own. at the time i draft this cherri and i are actively writing smth else for it in another tab. theres like 4 offshoots and im obsessed w all of them. we had to make ocs about this one. i’m excited to eventually add more to this series

actually that’s one of the scenes i’m most excited for and most dreading adding. we made a backstory oc and im SO attached to him and im excited to post a thing out there w him but. ough. whatever cringe is dead i’ll get there eventually and brute force my way into attaching you to our funky little robot guy

also love that this fic forced me to be decided on a docv characterization that i have to stick to. he may be a canon guy to martyn’s vtuber lore but he’s my oc now too

Blindsided

(Sept, 2k, treebark week, ongoing) (link)

pirate au and royal au based on a big secret and also stuffing a guy in a box and it's all stupid dramatic literally what else do you want or need in life

this is my wife. my favorite. my most beloved. blindsided gives me new illnesses and diseases. i have just one scene to write before i can update it and then i can continue unleashing her. god i love this fic the drama of it is SO fun.

the funny thing abt blindsided is i know all the plot chronologically but now how to Present it which is part of why i haven’t continued too much. eventually i will but until then know that one of the scenes im sitting on which has been fully written is one i think about constantly. hopefully when i post it cherri’ll let free the comic she did for it

i actually have the ending of this fic written i just need to get there lmfao. second on my priority list after smop i think

Cradle of the Leviathan

(Sept, 1.5k, treebark week, oneshot) (link)

i just love mer aus man. whats the point of it all if you cant have mer aus. just get a big ol fish

i have the ending of this au written as well and literally so little of the lead up. but this is pretty low on my priorities. i think this one stands just fine on its own. mer aus are nice like that

we actually have a few mer aus but for now i’ll be focusing on this one. i do have a few sweet post story things written for this one. maybe one day i’ll write enough to post em lmao

Lamplight AU

(2022-present, 47k, treebark, ongoing) (link)

renchanting dnd/fantasy au, martyn's a paladin and ren's a lamp

so i started this au last year. my wrapped last year said my total was 20k, so that means this year's total is.... 27k!

and… it was just lamplight’s birthday and i did all my appreciation for the fic and its readers then, but god. i love this fic so much and i love you all who have read it and been so kind about it. the amount of popularity it has makes it a bit nerve wracking to work on, but i still really want to see it finished. i hope to see the bulk of it done by this time next year!

Six Sentence Sunday

six sentence sunday is a challenge where i try to post six sentences i wrote that week every sunday, to keep me writing every week of the year! i do it over on my writing blog, @driflew

i did not keep up on my six sentences,,, i had a lot of sunday fencing tournaments. i did for ~33 weeks this year! thats a pretty good amount! i’ll have to be more on top of it next year tho

unpublished work

the last few years i havent included unpublished work, but with the extreme bulk of it, i wanted to note it down. cherri @/cherrifire and i have been writing a lot back and forth at each other in discord dms this year, and i wanted to include those in my count! bc holy fucking shit is there a lot of them

i didn’t include collab pieces, just pieces i wrote alone. i also only included the renchanting aus i share w cherri and scarian aus i share w flowey, nothing else—no unfinished lamplight or other independent pieces or oneshots, no original fiction for class, nothing. i also missed a few u haven’t moved to docs yet. so i’m lowballing by a few. thousands. of words

the total for those is...... 135k words! there is,,, something wrong with me

total and end notes

our total this year is...

187512 words!

that might be my highest word count yet! because i caught treebark disease. wild.

something really fun about this year to me is i really loved everything i wrote.

if you want to get me a gift or support me on my birthday… maybe try reading my work and reblogging it or leaving a comment! you can find my writing at driflew or skelew on ao3, follow my writing blog at @driflew, or even consider tipping my kofi!

thank you for sticking with me and supporting me this year! i really appreciate it! hopefully i can break 100k next year too!

#lew writes wrapped #lew writes

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hrefna-the-raven · 1 month

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Heart for hire

Fallout masterlist - main masterlist

Summary: It has been some time ago since MacCready and you found each other when you first stepped into the Third Rail. On the same day, after a year, you met again, same spot, same time to cherish in the memory of your first encounter.

Warnings: none I think...

Notes: slightly off canon and I haven't played MacCready's affinity arc yet and no review, this was typed and posted^^ living on the edge despite constant anxiety *whoop whoop* xD

Part 1

Robert spotted you as soon as you walked down the stairs, wearing the exact same blue vault suit you had donned a year prior when you first stumbled into Goodneighbor. A genuine grin unfurled on his face as you casually ambled towards him. The notion that, after all that happened with Lucy, he was fortunate enough to discover love again, still seemed surreal to him. But he knew better than to turn away from the blessing that slept 210 years in a vault only to find him shortly after waking up. Your steps halted in front of the table he was sitting at, humming innocently to yourself as your gaze trailed over his figure. From his seat, MacCready lifted his gaze, his eyes squinting marginally as he mustered all his fortitude to maintain a neutral expression.

"If you're preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun… then maybe we can talk."

A soft chuckle echoed within you as he reiterated the same statement he had flung at you one year ago.

"What makes you think I'd be an Atomite? And who knows? Maybe you'd want me to be your friend?"

He snorted softly, the corners of his lips curling into a familiar amused smile from back then. His little vault dweller sauntering through the Third Rail, tossing back her audacious retort with the same bravado.

"I don't make friends", he threw back at you playfully, followed by a flirtatious wink, "I fear we'd get too close and our lips might accidentally touch."

Innocently, you shrugged, drawing a chair beside him and settling down. You evaded his look as if it were a blazing inferno, fearful of being consumed by its flames, incapable of continuing the little teasing game the two of you were playing.

"Oh you know, I was told that accidents tend to happen quite a lot in the Commonwealth."

Grinning devilishly, you reached for his beer, took a hearty gulp before putting it back on the table, finally holding his gaze. His face contorted into a mock surprise, melodramatically placing a hand over his heart.

"The nerve of you!"

You signaled to Whitechapel Charlie for another round and shifted closer to MacCready, inhaling deeply to steady your nerves as you savoured the unique blend of Gwinnett pils and gunpowder that marked his scent.

"You seem a little young to be a hired gun. Tell me your story and the next few drinks are on me."

Charlie's interrupted you, the robot hummed cheerfully as he placed the beverages on the table and disappeared again. Robert exhaled sharply, consuming half of his beer in a single gulp to steady his nerves.

"First you're drinking my beer, and now you want to hear my life story… What's next? My social security number?", he quipped.

You chuckled at his comment, your heart almost melting at the fact that he would remember the little things you told him about the life you lead before the war.

"I'm simply intrigued by this handsome man sitting all alone in a place like this, plus I have no other engagements for tonight, so if you'd be so kind and satisfy a lady's curiosity", you whispered enticingly, your fingers playing around the bottle's neck, moving up and down before taking a drink.

The more your fingers played with the bottle, the more MacCready found himself fixated on them, suppressing an urgent groan that welled up in his throat.

"Handsome man, huh? Well, there's not much to tell… stuck in Little Lamplight, never knew my parents."

He finished off his drink, releasing a contented sigh as the mild buzz from the alcohol gradually spread through his body. A calm evening, no impending disaster in sight, there was no other place in the whole Wastelands he'd prefer over this very spot.

"My, my, what a tragic story", you gently stroked his shoulder, your fingers leisurely tracing a path down his torso, "but the poor handsome merc hasn't told me his name yet. Or is that as mysterious as his past?"

Your hand settled flat against his chest, sensing his heart rate quickening beneath your touch. His lips quivered subtly under your gaze, struggling mightily to suppress the temptation to kiss you.

"That's a mystery for you to figure out", he leaned closer to you and whispered, "but I have that very close friend who calls me Mac."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you recalled the moment you had chosen that nickname for him when he first revealed his name. It took him some time to get used it, persistently expressing his displeasure at the moniker you had chosen until the day his heart succumbed to your affection. Since then, the once hated nickname became the song your heart sang to his each day, a tender tune he would never tire of. MacCready felt the threat of drowning within the craving sea of his desire for you, the screaming of his longing for you grew deafening, making it impossible for him to continue denying your lips. His arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you from your seat to his welcoming lap, as his lips passionately locked with yours. Only when breath became a necessity did you part, gasping and laughing softly as you affectionately rubbed your nose against his.

"Having met you, having you this close to me has made me happier than I've ever been before", he murmured, his face nestled in the curve of your neck.

A year ago, he lingered alone in the Third Rail, drinking to numb his mind, a desperate attempt to escape the sad truth of a dead wife and a son in the merciless grip of an unknown plague, well aware that the gunners might show up and finally put a bullet through his head to end his despair-ridden existence. But instead a different kind of trouble found him that night, the kind of trouble that would plant its roots in his heart, flourishing and growing into the most beautiful thing he could have never dreamt of. It took him quite some time to finally see the true blessing of you choosing to annoy him that night, stubbornly clinging to his side and dragging him along while fighting for the freedom of the people in the Commonwealth and to free your son from the clutches of the Institute. You were the silver lining on his horizon, the sunshine he had eagerly waited for after enduring numerous calamities in his existence. His thoughts fleetingly flitted back to the silver ring he had spotted in Fallon's basement shop back in Diamond City. Maybe he'd quickly drop by tomorrow, praying that it had not yet been purchased by someone else in the meantime. He had not yet planned on how exactly he'd ask you How he would propose was yet to be determined, but his conviction was unwavering - he desired, no he needed, you to be his wife, being bound together in love. Eventually, he dreamt of a time when your sons both would reunite with you and in good health, finally enabling you both to enjoy the serene family life that both of you longed for.

Feel free to reblog if you enjoyed the story :)

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beanifred · 4 months

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Day 1 of @dollarstrilogyevent SUNRISE

I’ll post this to AO3 when I can get to a PC…

Brother Pablo Fransisco Ramirez felt so delirious that he was certain that the light in the distance must be a mirage. He rode for three days, stopping only long enough to sleep a little, before changing horses and taking provisions from the smaller missions between Apache Canyon and the farm. The moon was full but waning when he began to ride.

Now, on the third night, the moon disappeared behind clouds, and the inky, black sky was starting to turn indigo at the farthest flung edges. He could see, now, that the light was coming from the windows of his father’s house–no mirage.

Pablo didn’t remember tying up the horse and making his way through the kitchen but suddenly, there he was, kneeling beside the bed. How small Papa looked, in the lamplight; how much like a child himself, with his sister there beside him--one hand holding a cool cloth to his forehead and the other holding a rosary.

“Tia,” he began, but she put a finger to her mouth, rose, and motioned for him to join her in the kitchen.

“My brother has been waiting for you-”

“Not I…”

“HUSH, Pablo. BOTH of you. I sent my youngest to bring you, but my eldest rode to find your little brother. He knows where to look.”

“Prisons? Brothels? Leading an expedition to find a Northwest Passage?!”

“Both of you, glib at the worst times! Listen. The last anyone saw of him he was riding out of a nearby town with a tall gringo who saved his neck from the noose. At least he is alive. And THAT assurance you can give to your father, because he will not be for much longer. Tell him it’s ok to go, Pablo. Please.”

Pablo stepped back into the room and knelt again, beside his father.

“Papa, I’m here.”

Salvador’s eyes were bright, but they saw and also did not see. This last stroke caused his mind to wander through time, past day and night but also through years. He smiled at the sound of the voice, though.

“Son! Tuco?..”

Still, GOD forgive him, Pablo thinks, a punch to his stomach.

“No! Tuco is NOT here, Papa. But I am. Pablo. I am here to be with you. To give you Last Rites and offer comfort until you go to be with Mama.”

“Did you look for him? Tuco. I want to see him, too. He always made us all laugh even in the darkest of times.”

Pablo bristled.

“Can you EAT laughter? Can you drink it?”

Salvador reached out his hand, pleading.

“He TRIED. After what happened…”

“Not hard enough.”

This made the old man sit up in bed. Blood rushed to his cheeks, reminding his son that he COULD, even in his last moments, be imposing.

“OH? And how do you know? Since you left your younger brother to turn over the soil? To work this cursed bit of earth through droughts? When Tuco brought us money to EAT and to buy seed and feed our livestock, I took it. Oh I see you turn your nose up, Pablo. But, how many rich men put their money into your hands to feed the poor and needy and YOU did not ask how they made that gold. Off the backs of the poor? Unloading the monetary weight of their consciences for absolution and indulgence?”

“Papa, please! If he is the prodigal son that you so want him to be, where IS he? Riding off with some gringo to do heaven knows what!”

“But Tuco, is alive?”

“Yes, Papa. Riding out of a nearby town. But that is where he went and that is “not here.” No falling onto his neck…”

Salvator leans forward and takes his hand, looking into his eyes; present. Clear.

“Pablo, there is another story that Jesus tells us, about going after the one lost sheep. Right? You will find him, and he will come. In his time, he will come. Look, there is the dawn; help me to meet it. And your Mama.

Pablo fights back tears while he opens his small case.

“O my God I am sorry and repent with all my heart for all the wrong I have done and for the good I have failed to do, because by sinning I have offended you, who are all good and worthy to be loved above all things. I firmly resolve, with the help of your grace, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid the occasions of sin…”

A hundred times a hundred, Pablo has given last Rites. The confession. The Apostles Creed. He Anoints his father’s head with oil. The Viaticum, he takes. And holds onto his eldest’s arm.

“Our father, take your humble servant, Salvador Francisco Juan Maria Ramirez and receive him to Your Glory…”

His father smiled, as if Seeing. But he could still hear Pablo, too. And so, for that one last small prayer:

“May we be strengthened by his presence in the hour of our death.”

“St. Benedict. Do not let the sun set on your anger at your little brother, Pablito. Not with that beautiful dawn greeting us today…”

Pablo looks at the colors of the sky…a good day for planting. He swears it must be his delirium because he sees his younger self, chasing Tuco past the window and both of them laugh to reach their father in the lowest part of the field.

“Ah, see. You think of him, too.”

Salvador closed his eyes and spoke no more.

Dammit, Tuco, WHERE ARE YOU?!

#tuco ramirez #pablo ramirez #dollarstrilogyevent #the good the bad and the ugly #Blondie

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unexpectedly-haunted · 1 year

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Woe! Renchanting Fic Recommendations be upon ye!

Lamplight AU by skelew: A DnD style/Fantasy AU series where Martyn, captured and separated from his traveling party, finds an almost-forgotten god trapped in the basement. He becomes this god’s paladin in a bid to escape, and Ren, stuck in the form of fire, is happy to help. Adventures and a significant amount of arson follow, and the series is currently in progress! Words: 20,949 Works: 6

Missing or Obstructed by skelew: Post-Third Life AU centered on Ren and Grian. Waking up back on Hermitcraft after dying, these two are the only ones who remember the game. Grian struggles with his victory, and Ren sets out to find Martyn. Words: 2609 Chapters: 1/?

Wooden Mausoleum by skelew: Third Life AU where Martyn follows through on his planned betrayal. Fantastic and heartfelt angst, I cannot recommend enough. Words: 3807 Chapters: 1/1

yes, the only way out is down by skelew: Hey, remember when Martyn executed Ren? And it took three strikes to finally kill him? Wasn’t that fucked up? That’s what this fic is. Words: 1248 Chapters: 1/1

Domino Effect by pixiemage: Martyn-centric Third Life time loop fic with quality renchanting characterisation! Incorporates Watcher lore and Watcher! Grian in an interesting and engaging way. Words: 39557 Chapters: 3/?

winter as a metaphor for approaching ends by donnerstag: Ren ventures into a blizzard to find Martyn when he doesn’t come home. A reflection on loyalty in a death game. Loved the dialogue, have reread several times already. Words: 3880 Chapters: 1/1

falling doesn’t feel so bad (when i know you’ve fallen this way too) by mangop1e: Ren’s tests of loyalty, now featuring a soul-binding magic ritual. Described as including “imtimacy” “but like in the emotional way” “in the homies way” “in the “youre my king and i’m your faithful right hand” way” and it delivers! Words: 5148 Chapters: 1/1

sharp & glorious thorn by majorkirastan: Ren and Martyn have a late night talk. I think about this one at least three times a week. Words: 2098 Chapters: 1/1

you’ve always been my north star by genesis_frog: A character study of Third Life Martyn and, by extension, Ren. Formatted as a 5 + 1 and really, really good! Words: 3346 Chapters: 1/1

ain’t it warming you, the world going up in flames? by crowleysflamingbentley: The tnt trap outside Dogwarts goes off, and Martyn sees red. This does not go so well for Scar. Really fun idea and I love how it was written! Somewhat open-ended. Words: 1327 Chapters: 1/1

Cold Comfort by redwinterroses: In the aftermath of the Red King’s rise, Martyn struggles with continuing bloodlust. Ren continues to trust him anyway. Close to a happy ending. Words: 2460 Chapters: 1/1

Nothing Gold Can Stay by redwinterroses: Third Life AU where Dogwarts wins, and Ren and Martyn are the last two left standing. Intense angst with a hopeful ending. Words: 3581 Chapters: 1/1

Heavy Hands, Heavy Hearts by librius: Dogwarts wins AU, and they both want to other one to live. All angst baby! Words: 1965 Chapters: 1/1

untitled by redwinterroses: Ren the King dreams of his dead Hand, who has some words for him. Such a cool concept, and the imagery is still haunting me. Words: 1460 Chapters: 1/1

also, here’s my ao3! i have a lot of renchanting there + plan on writing more :D

#renchanting #rendog #writing #fic recommendations #fic recs #ghost post #wrote this up a while ago and forgot to post it! so here it is now :D

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fruitcoops · 2 years

Note

I haven’t been able to get the cubs with a baby out of my head since that one post. Showing up to practices with a little toddler? Two of them coming home to the third asleep on the couch with the baby in his chest? UNCLE ALEX, UNCLE BLIZ, AND AUNTIE NAT

@oknutzyweek prompt #2: Warm II Cold! Characters belong to @lumosinlove, except Grace, who is my OC and can be found in a few other cubs fics here and here

TW for mild illness (child)

Finn woke to lips on his cheekbone and a hand rubbing over his back; he made a quiet, questioning noise and got a gentle hush in return. “Fever?” he mumbled.

“Just over a hundred.” Logan’s accent was heavy and tired on his tongue.

“Knutty?”

“With her now. I came to check on you.”

“M’okay.”

“I know, mon rouge.” The kiss came again and he sat up, blinking blearily in the lamplight. Logan had perched himself on the edge of the bed, looking the same as he had when Finn took the first shift, all those hours ago. He let Logan take his hand and toy with his fingers while his brow furrowed in thought. “I think we should call Dumo.”

“Not the hospital?”

Logan shot him a wry glare. “Don’t tempt me, O’Hara.”

Finn yawned, then cracked a grin. “How long did it take Peanut to peel you off the ceiling?”

“Va te faire.”

“It’s a fever.” He tugged on Logan’s hand and opened his arm for a cuddle, which Logan went into willingly. He was warm, but not burning. Not like Grace’s forehead had been when they first picked her up not halfway through the school day, and not like it had remained throughout dinner and into the wee hours. Finn sighed. “Just a fever.”

“I still want to call Dumo.”

If it were anyone else in the world, Finn might have argued. But it was Logan, and it was Dumo, who would not hesitate to answer a late-night call from his adopted son. He gave Logan’s hip a little pat before releasing him and standing—his back popped in about four different places, and he had to shake his knee out as he padded down the hallway half-blind. His glasses were…somewhere. Probably in Grace’s room, but it was entirely possible he had put them in the fridge again on accident. Leo still hadn’t let him live down the ‘keys in the freezer’ incident and that was months ago.

Finn knocked lightly on the brightly-painted doorframe. “Come in,” a drowsy voice answered just above a whisper.

The small dolphin nightlight cast the whole room in a soft blue glow. The rocking chair creaked as Leo stood with a wince and a yawn, doing his level best not to jostle the lump of blanket in his arms. One sleepy, glassy eye peeked out at Finn and his heart folded like a cheap card table. “Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured. Her bangs were sweaty when he brushed them out of her eyes; her skin was far too warm when he kissed her forehead to check. “How are you feeling?”

Grace sniffled and buried her face in Leo’s shoulder. “Not good.”

“Did you sleep?”

“We caught a couple minutes.” Leo rested his head against Finn’s with a long sigh, nuzzling his cheek. “You?”

“Couple minutes.” After laying in bed for an hour feeling like the worst father in the world. Finn felt Logan’s hand on his waist a moment later and touched Grace gently on the elbow. “We were going to call Grandpa, okay? He might come over and check on you.”

A hum from Leo made both of them look up. “Already called Kasey ‘n Nat,” he murmured, eyes hooded. “They’re on the way. Was just about to head in and let you know.”

“Thanks, love,” Finn whispered with a kiss to his jaw that made Leo smile. He slid his hands under Grace’s arms and lifted her into his own, pulling the blanket back around her shoulders. Leo stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do, only conscious enough to stay upright—Finn gave his bicep a tug and tilted his head toward the door. “Go get some rest. Lo and I can wait up for Bliz.”

Leo shook his head. “Won’t be able to sleep.”

“Try for me, okay?” He mustered a reassuring smile and was grateful Leo didn’t have much fight in him, because he knew for a fact he would crumple under that bullheaded stubbornness when he had only been awake for a few minutes. Grace made a little snuffling noise as Leo and Logan disappeared into the hall—in an instant, every ounce of Finn’s attention was attuned to her. “Gracie?”

“Head hurts.” She twisted her hand in the front of his tshirt. “Daddy, I’m cold.”

Finn’s internal organs made a valiant effort to break right through his ribs and throw themselves at the feet of whatever god smited terrible, horrible, awful fathers who let their sick kids feel cold. Logically, he knew more blankets were a bad idea when Grace was already running too hot, but logic could go fuck itself. His baby was cold. End of story.

“Let’s go into the living room,” he managed. “Nice and warm there.”

“Is Grandpa coming?”

“Not right now, but Auntie Nat and Uncle Kasey are on their way. Are you hungry?”

A whine answered him and he closed his eyes, blowing out a slow breath. God, he knew kids got sick, all the parenting books had outlined the unavoidable petri dish of preschool, but that didn’t make it any easier. If he could swap their places then and there, he would.

It seemed Logan had convinced Leo to shuffle off to bed before moving to sit on the living room couch with his phone clutched in one hand and his eyes trained on the door like it was a stray puck. Finn settled Grace down between them and she curled into Logan’s side, pillowing her head on his thigh. His heart ached at the care with which Logan tucked her blanket back into its proper place. “Five minutes.”

“Kay.”

There was nothing else they could say. Nothing else that mattered. Five minutes felt like thirty seconds, felt like thirty years before headlight shone outside and the knock on the door finally came.

“There’s my baby girl,” Natalie cooed as she entered the house and set a small tote bag by the door, beelining for the couch with a quirked brow to Finn. He nodded, and she knelt by the edge of the couch to take one of Grace’s tiny hands between her own. “I heard somebody wasn’t feeling good. Did your daddy have too many cookies again?”

A giggle drew a soft puff of air from Logan. “No,” Grace said through her laughter. “It’s me.”

“It’s you?” Kasey eased himself onto the couch; Finn didn’t miss the nudge of their shoulders, nor the gentle squeeze to his arm before Kasey reached over and tapped Grace on the nose. “What happened?”

“My tummy and my head and my body hurts.”

Natalie glanced up. “What’s her temp?”

“100.5. Leo took it ten, fifteen minutes ago.” Logan sounded even more exhausted than before, though he perked up when Leo came through the doorway.

Finn smiled at Leo’s adorable attempt to appear awake. “Thought you went to bed, sunshine.”

“Heard people,” Leo mumbled. His hair was sticking up on one side in a cowlick, like he had passed out the moment he hit the bed and not twitched a muscle since. “Wanted to say hi. Thanks for coming, ‘s late.”

“Hey, you know we’ll come any t—” Kasey paused when Grace pulled on his sleeve. “Yes?”

“Where’s Uncle Alex?”

“At home, keeping an eye on our own sickies.”

Finn frowned and felt Logan go tense. “They’re sick?”

“Sniffles,” Kasey explained, not exactly unbothered but definitely nowhere near Logan’s earlier level of ‘oh my god the Rapture is here’. “Third grade’ll do that. Kids licking handrails left and right.”

“He did send you a present, though,” Natalie added with a twinkle in her eye. Grace lit up, leaning forward, and smiled when Nat kissed her forehead. “That one’s from him…” Another kiss, to the very tip of her nose. “And that’s from me. To make you feel all better.”

Logan reached out to touch her wrist when she sat back again. “Do we need to take her to the hospital?” he asked, hardly above a whisper so Grace wouldn’t hear.

Nat blinked, then stifled a snort, though her face was full of affection. “God, I love you, Tremblay. Unless her fever keeps climbing or she starts throwing up a lot, you’ll be fine letting her sleep it off. Looks like a stomach bug to me.”

“She’s so warm.” Finn knew he sounded rather pathetic and appreciated that nobody commented on it.

“That’s good. Means she’s fighting it off.” A muffled snore came from their left and Natalie bit back a smile; Finn couldn’t help the soft ‘oh’ that escaped him at the sight of Leo passed out cold on Kasey’s shoulder and covered his mouth with his hand as Logan let out a breath of laughter. Nat patted him on the knee a moment later. “O’Haras are such worrywarts. Take a breath, have some water, then put her back to bed. She’ll be okay in a day or two.”

Finn looked down at Grace, who had already fallen asleep again, then back up. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Natalie hesitated before pulling Grace’s blanket back down to cover her toes. “It helps to sleep in the same room as her for a bit, though. Might make you feel better.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

They didn’t stay much longer after that—Finn took Leo’s dead weight while Logan gathered grace up and settled her against his chest, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads before disappearing back into the hall with soft footsteps. “Peanut?”

“Mmm.”

Finn could hear Logan rustling around in the other room and pulled himself upright. “Time for bed.”

“Stayin’ up with the baby.”

“Lo’s got her right now. Come to bed with me.”

It wouldn’t be right to call Leo’s eyes ‘half-lidded’ as they wandered to their bedroom. They were almost fully closed, and certainly sleepy enough that Finn began to question the likelihood of sleepwalking. It was a testament to both his exhaustion and his unfailing trust in Logan that Finn didn’t have to drag him past Grace’s bedroom and instead acted as a guide until they reached the bed, curling up around each other in a smooth curve. It didn’t matter that Grace was nearly five years old and had been sick before during her time with them. Finn had the feeling it wouldn’t matter if she was 15, or 19, or 35. The three of them would always worry, and he was grateful for every ounce of the love that made it possible.

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olko71 · 11 months

Text

New Post has been published on All about business online

New Post has been published on https://yaroreviews.info/2023/07/hospitality-sector-anxious-over-summer-staffing

Hospitality sector 'anxious' over summer staffing

Stephen Montgomery

By Jemma Dempsey

BBC News

The UK’s hospitality sector is still short-staffed and businesses fear they will struggle to cope over the busy summer holiday season.

It comes as former government minister George Eustice called for EU workers to be allowed into the UK to ease post-Brexit shortages.

Trade body UK Hospitality also said staffing was in “serious crisis” – with vacancies 48% higher than pre-Covid.

The government said staff could be hired under its points-based system.

Hotels and bars need more EU workers, say bosses

Restaurateur Stephen Montgomery told the BBC he was “anxious to a degree” about the summer. He runs Our Place in Annan, near Lockerbie – he is also chair of the Scottish Hospitality Group.

“Just as we were trying to take the business from five to seven days a week, bang we lost two members of staff, both front of house,” he said.

But it means he may have to cut down his opening hours. “If I have to close to make sure my staff aren’t burned out, I will. Why risk losing more staff for financial gain?”

However, he is hopeful of recruiting soon – his business is offering interest-free loans and cost of living grants to employees as incentives in a tight labour market.

Now, Mr Montgomery’s plight, along with others, has been highlighted by the former environment secretary and outgoing MP Mr Eustice who has picked up the post-Brexit staffing baton. Speaking in the Observer, Mr Eustice called for a reciprocal visa scheme for under-35s to work across the EU and Britain.

“I am very sceptical about a skills-based immigration policy because we have no shortages in those areas, but where we do have shortages is in hospitality, it’s quite acute there. We could have a two-year youth mobility scheme which would have no permanent impact on immigration numbers,” he told the BBC.

Andrew Matthews/PA Wire

An industry outlook by Deloitte for 2023 said disruptions due to staff shortages, underpinned by high inflation, would likely increase and last beyond 2025.

The accounting firm also forecast a lack of economic growth and rising costs, with an inability to raise prices as the key risks in the sector.

Staffing is a problem for the Lamplighter Dining Rooms in Windermere, in the heart of the Lake District.

Open 365 days of the year it can seat 100 guests but owner James Tasker said filling the rota had been “more of a challenge” since the pandemic.

“The southern European contingent just didn’t come back,” he said. “Then there’s the surging cost of living, coupled with unaffordable rental accommodation, that’s in phenomenally short supply here.

“We may face certain days where we have to restrict the volume of guests, which is disappointing but it’s not all about the money.”

Having fewer guests was preferable to giving customers bad service and getting negative reviews. “We’re conscious of our reputation,” Mr Tasker added.

Vacancies

The background to these challenges are post-Brexit working regulations and Covid, both of which have severely affected the sector. The Office for National Statistics (ONS) said the level of vacancies was still 48% higher than pre-Covid levels.

An ONS update is due on Tuesday but it said available roles fell by 22% over the last year, standing at 132,000 in May.

“The workforce shortage is creating a serious crisis as we head deeper into the peak summer season,” said UK Hospitality chief executive Kate Nicholls. “Nearly half of businesses are reducing trading hours per day, and a third are having to close on some days each week.”

James Dixon-Box

James Dixon-Box, deputy manager at Bournemouth’s 95-bed Marsham Court Hotel in Dorset, said hoteliers in the town had been forced to think laterally to combat staffing issues.

“We work really hard on cross-training so we have staff who are multi-skilled. Finding chefs is not the easiest thing but we do a lot of work with colleges and schools and have student apprentices,” he said.

One of them is a 16-year old who has just started work in the hotel kitchen and will spend the summer holidays being trained as a chef. The process will take six to eight weeks.

Mr Dixon-Box said: “There’s no use moping about saying there’s a skills gap, the best way is to teach people and for them to learn.”

Further north, Buzzworks runs 19 restaurants across Scotland and employs 800 staff, turning over £35m last year. But finding chefs is a problem. “It’s our most acute shortage,” said owner Kenny Blair.

The entrepreneur has obtained an immigration licence “which was not cheap” but it allows him to recruit staff from abroad – most recently India.

Buzzworks

Mark McCulloch set up Hospitality Rising to attract young people to an industry they would never have considered before.

“It’s a viable career path, the pay is better than you think,” he told the BBC.

Backed by 300 businesses it has the support of big hitters like Michelin-starred chefs Tom Kerridge, Angela Hartnett and Raymond Blanc.

Mr McCulloch, a former marketing executive with Pret a Manger and Yo! Sushi, said without a full team it “leads to customer disappointment”.

Renewed calls for jobs in the hospitality industry to be added to the shortage occupation list come after the government’s Migration Advisory Committee last rejected the idea in March.

A spokesperson for the Home Office told the BBC it worked to ensure its points-based system “delivers for the UK” and that included reviewing the shortage occupation list “to ensure it reflects the current labour market”. They added that many hospitality roles such as chefs are eligible under the points-based system.

More on this story

Hotels and bars need more EU workers, say bosses

21 March

Immigration rules relaxed for builders and carpenters

16 March

Who is allowed to come to live in the UK?

25 May

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liloinkoink · 2 years

Text

Lamplight AU

What is Lamplight? Short answer, a DnD/Fantasy Third/Last Life Renchanting AU!

Long answer, here’s 20 Questions, the ficlet meant to introduce the concept.

Medium answer, Ren is a powerful god stuck in the form of living fire. Martyn is his sole follower. Martyn and Ren help free one another from imprisonment by the Watchers and are now traveling the world on a two-man adventure of fond companionship and occasional arson.

This AU has been written as I feel like it with absolutely no regard for chronology. If you have any questions about it feel free to ask! I also have a tag for it, “lamplight au,” which is where any writing, asks, or art go.

I’ll update this post with writing and art as it happens. Writing is organized chronologically, art is organized by artist and as it’s posted.

This AU was planned with the help of @/unexpectedly-haunted, whose designs for Martyn and Ren are linked at the start of the art section!

You can also find an archive of Lamplight on my writing blog, @driflew, under the same tag.

[AU itself is platonic, but ship content gets made for it]

And, for some other fun notes...

The (unofficial) Lamplight fan Discord Server can be found here!!

Martyn replied to my post saying he knows what Lamplight is, which is a wild thing to be able to say.

[Please do not spam the chats or the askboxes of Martyn, Ren, or anyone else with talk of this fic! Don’t need to annoy anyone with it, thank you!]

[Now that it's confirmed Martyn does know what Lamplight is, here are my thoughts on reading it on stream (he can can if he wants!)]

Lamplight writing

(for any works posted on both ao3 and tumblr where there are differences in content, consider ao3 the ‘correct,’ ‘updated,’ or ‘canon’ version. The AO3 versions are better, edited for quality, pacing, and often with extra bits not found in the tumblr versions)

The AO3 series with all works can be found here.

[If you enjoy Lamplight, I have a kofi? Please don’t feel the need send me anything excessive! The option to tip simply exists if you enjoy the series and are feeling generous.]

Canon

Torchlight Arc

Torchlight

[Torchlight short fic: Ren POV] [this scene is also on Ao3, in Moonlight ch2]

Heliography (multi-chapter, complete)

[tumblr preview scene, incl in Heliography ch1]

Lamplight Arc

Strange Traveler (ao3) (tumblr)

From Here to There (incl 20Q and other scenes)

Incident at the Sleeping Hound (ao3) (tumblr)

Winter's Herald (ao3) (tumblr)

Moonlight Arc

Moonlight (multi-chapter, in-progress)

(ch one is also on tumblr, but significant edits were made when it was moved to ao3. i’m leaving the first version here unchanged, just for fun, but be aware it’s different)

Non-Canon

worship the ashes (ship, noncanonical)

featherlight (Treebark Week D2: Light/Dark. ambiguous on both the ship status and the canonical status… anime filler arc status lmao)

somniphobia (ship, noncanonical) (og version is also on tumblr, a fic from taking treebark Lamplight requests: Ren doesn't sleep)

Heat Haze (Treebark Week D4: Warmth/Breeze) (ship, noncanonical)

the only place i don't feel cold (Treebark Week D3/4: Build/Burn, Infernal/Divine) (ship, noncanonical) (og version is also on tumblr, a fic from taking treebark Lamplight requests: God of...)

Leaflight Series (Lamplight Roleswap) [ask about the Leaflight concept]

Cover Me in Roses

Ficlet of a different Lamplight offshoot

Other Writers

Help with plotting the AU has come from my friend Haunted, whose contributions to design, plot, and general function as a rubber duck have been greatly appreciated

Series

Desert Duo subplot series by @/cosmicretribution (Haunted's designs)

crystalline

Boat Boys subplot series by @/boatboysrowout

i said fuck it long ago

Canon-divergent horror series by @/sixteenth-days

so no head?

Oneshots (non canon)

the heart of the pyre by Zeph

striking steel by Apollo

guiding light by Apollo

Lamplight Art

if you want to draw Lamplight art, go ahead! i would love to see it! @ me and/or Haunted and i’ll put it here! if i don’t see it, send me a message! and be sure to check out these artists’ work and show them some love!

Haunted’s Lamplight Official™ Martyn design

Haunted’s Lamplight Official™ Ren design (ft. Martyn)

Haunted's Lamplight animatic, FIRE--this is an animatic for the latter half of the fic Torchlight and is really cool!

I hit the fucking link limit so the rest of the art can be found HERE

#lamplight au #lew library #top hits

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magalidragon · 3 years

Text

paris is always a good idea | a Jonerys Drabble

Thank you @youwerenevermine for my wonderful birthday gift, I love it so much and I love Paris so much and Jonerys and you for making this for me so I felt inspired and wrote a quick little drabble thing, lol. It’s only the fourth time I’ve written Jonerys in a modern, non-Westeros world, but it was fun! And I wanna’ go back so much! Paris, je t’aime!

They met while in university, oddly enough, as fate would have it, on her birthday.

She had been there to study art, for a year abroad, savoring every last second wandering the wide, arched hallways of the Louvre, staring at grand masters for hours on end, burning the vibrant colors and mesmerizing brushstrokes into her memory, wishing she could be as good as them one day. One day, someone would have her art in their house, and proudly boast they'd gotten it back when she was but a nobody, painting on the streets or in the grassy parks.

Since it was her birthday, she decided to treat herself, and instead of heading straight to the university to get some time in the studio, she decided to get an ice cream at Berthillon, heading to the Ile-St-Louis instead of to the metro, taking her time to admire, as she often did, the glory of Notre Dame, it’s gargoyles and buttresses.

At the glacier she took her time selecting a flavor, did not even mind paying the exorbitant price and shouldered through tourists taking refuge from a cold rain that had begun to fall. She savored it, the clean water bouncing off her peat coat and the beanie she’d tugged over her silver hair.

She was about to set off, to eat her ice cream and wander into the Marais, perhaps drop down into the Latin Quarter— maybe take a trip to Chanel or Dior or Celine to admire the creations she couldn’t afford— when her ice cream went flying, straight onto the wet sidewalk. Where a mass of pidgins attacked it with gusto.

“Merde! Faites attention!” she shouted, stomping her Doc Marten on the ground in petulant annoyance.

The man who had bumped her because he’d been roughhousing with another friend had been apologetic. He bought her another and said his name was Robb Stark. He was from Scotland, was on spring break with his buddies, which she didn’t care about. To apologize he invited her for a drink, especially when the worker who she’d told it was her birthday had commented on it again when she got another ice cream.

She figured why not? He was attractive, sorry, and nice enough so she agreed, although she had commented his French was terrible best to speak English. “You’re English?” he had teased.

“Half and half,” she answered. English father, French mother.

At the comptoir where she suggested they meet, in Montmartre, she brought her roommate Missandei and Missandei’s boyfriend Grey. It was just a drink and they’d leave and go to the dinner Missandei planned to take her to anyway.

Except that’s where she met him.

The dark, brooding figure at the tiny table in the corner, ignoring Robb and Robb’s friend Theon, and a couple others, favoring silence and his drink. He was in all black, barely acknowledging her and slipped out for a smoke when Robb began to shamelessly flirt. She didn’t care about Robb, she cared about him.

Jon.

She exited, saw him lighting a cigarette against a lap post. She flicked her coat collar up and sidled towards him. “Puis-j’en avoir un?”

“Sorry I don’t speak,” he began, and his eyes— black in the orange lamplight glow— flicking to her. He smiled gently “French.”

She smiled and repeated her question in English. “Can I have one? A smoke that is?”

He stuck the cigarette between his pouty, sinful lips, framed with a cropped dark beard, and reached into his coat pocket, removing a pack. She took one delicately and he lit it, cupping his hands around the tip so the wind didn’t blow it out.

A stream of smoke escaped her nostrils when she puffed and she smiled up at him, hoping he got the hint. “Do you like Paris?”

“Not especially.”

“Aw come on,” she teased. She hummed, closing her eyes and taking in the cold night. The electric buzz is people on the street and at the cafes and bars around them. “Paris is always a good idea.”

“Someone famous said that.”

“Audrey Hepburn.”

He sucked on the cigarette and smiled, a tiny one, the curve of his lip sly rather than shy. “You aren’t in there with the rest of them.”

“Because it’s my birthday and I want to do what I want to do.” She stubbed the cigarette out on the post and turned, disposing it in the bin by the door. A quick text to Missandei: I’m going to skip dinner, I think I have a date, she turned and studied him. “I’m…”

“Dany,” he said. He shrugged, finishing his smoke. “I remember.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think you were listening when Robb introduced me.”

“I was.” He pulled the tartan scarf around his neck tighter. He glanced towards Sacré-Cœur, illuminated white in the lights around its base. He smirked at her. “You going back in?”

She shook her head. “No,” she drawled. She followed his gaze to Sacré-Cœur. “Have you been up there?”

“No.”

“You should. Some of the best views of Paris.”

He chuckled, voice tight. “You should invite Robb.”

“I think he might be a third wheel.”

It took him a second, the gears in his mind turning, understanding what she was saying. He cocked his head. His black curls were in a mess around his face. A few scattered rain drops landed on them, and he shook it free like a dog. Or a wolf, she thought, noting the animal embroidered on the edge of his scarf.

He narrowed his eyes again. “I told you I don’t really like Paris.”

“Why?”

“It’s loud. Busy. Dirty.”

She laughed. “Every city is like that but in Paris it’s different.”

“Why?”

Her bravado got the better of her and she stepped towards him, linking her arm through his. If he didn’t get it now, he was a stupid fool who deserved it when she kicked him into the gutter. “Because,” she murmured, rising to her toes, trying to gaze as directly as she could into his eyes, which she now saw were actually gray. His breathing quickened. “You’re with me.”

The wolf got the point with that comment. He allowed her to keep her arm around his and lead him towards the cathedral. They spoke of nothing and anything on the long walk through Montmartre to the highest point in the city.

He was in Paris for a research trip. He was studying medieval weapons and was going out to Bayeux to study some relics. His cousin Robb and friends came along for the free trip. They spoke about being starving artists in their field-- her literally an artist as it were. They talked about Paris-- how much he disliked it, how much she adored it. The top of Sacre-Coeur might have changed his mind, but he pretended he still didn’t get the appeal, so she dragged him back down to the streets, to her favorite all-night boulangerie, into the metro and across town to the Eiffel Tower, spinning in circles on the Champs du Mars. They ran across the Pont-de-la-Concorde and across the Tullieries. They wandered down the Seine, smoked cigarettes in the doorsteps of old buildings in the Latin Quarter, and drank cheap wine in one of the tourist-cafes near the Jardin du Luxembourg.

They meandered back through the streets, the city oddly quiet, the rain stopping, and she brought him to her garret studio in the Bastille, up the six flights of stairs to the top of the building, where she shed her coat and boots adn scratched her fat cat Drogon’s ears, leading him to the wrought-iron bars in one of the four windows she had, pushing the window open and crawling out, up onto the roof where she wanted to show him something.

“Look,” she directed, when he climbed up next to her-- less gracefully-- pointing to the lit-up Eiffel Tower.

He cursed under his breath. “It’s gorgeous.”

“It’s my favorite place in Paris. The rent is steep, but it’s worth it for this.” She chuckled. “And it has the best view.”

He whispered. “Yes, it does.”

And to her surprise, since she didn’t realize the time, the tower began to twinkle, the 20,000 lights across its metal beams flickering and she glanced sideways; he wasn’t watching the tower, but her face. She arched her brows. “You know, the lights twinkle for five minutes every hour, on the hour.” She smiled and shrugged, whispering. “It’s a sign that you’re supposed to return to Paris.”

Instead of saying anything, like how silly that was, he leaned in and cupped her face in his wide palm, callused and warm, bringing her face to meet his, kissing gently, in the twinkly glow of the lights. He pulled back a moment later, breathing, “I think I like Paris. And you’er right...this place has the best view.” His eyes were wide on hers, focused. She chuckled, nodding in agreement, and pulled him back to her for another kiss.

That night she savored every moment with him, as they pulled each other’s clothes off slowly, kissing and touching, every smooth curve and muscle of each other, each hard ridge and plane of his strong, muscular body or her soft, lean one. He touched her and kissed her and stroked her in ways she’d never experienced, bringing her to heights she’d only dreamed about. It was intense, the lights behind her closed eyelids when she came, over and over, gripping his shoulders, hair, the bedframe behind her. He rose up and over her, in and out, their bodies moving as one, thrusting and arching.

She didn’t know if she’d see him again; if this was a one-time, romantic Parisian adventure, but in the morning when she woke, she found him coming back inside from getting pastries and coffees, the faintest scent of cigarettes and her toothpaste on his lips when he kissed her good morning.

They exchanged their information, vowing to speak daily, and he would see her when he got back from Bayeux. She couldn’t believe when he did call and he kept his word. “When you lie, words lose their meaning,” he’d explained, obviously reading her surprise.

And when her year ended in Paris, she found herself in London, back at university, dreaming of their magical time there, even when they made time for each other, going back and forth from London to Edinburgh; and he from Edinburgh to Paris during the last couple of months of her year there.

They made it a priority; every single year they spent time in Paris, like they were students again, on that magical night.

They grew older, no longer needing to find the cheapest drinks and cigarettes, or staying in studio garrets, eventually able to experience some of the best hotels and restaurants the city had to offer, as he sold books and became a well-known author and professor, and her dream of becoming a famous artist came true, when sure enough, someone bought one of her paintings on the side of the Seine, someone who happened to be an art dealer in New York.

It was their city, where they met, and where they could remember.

After they married, about fifteen years after that fateful birthday, they visited again, and spun together on the Pont-Neuf, kissing and murmuring how they loved each other and always would, and he took her back to the tiny studio garret, which was now theirs, and sat on the rooftop and watched the Eiffel Tower sparkle.

“Paris is always a good idea,” she murmured, head in the crook of his neck, her back to his front, wrapped in a warm blanket, and his arms tight around her middle. She tilted her face up to his, sated, and still hopelessly in love with him. “Take me to Paris, Jon.”

He nuzzled his nose into her cheek, whispering. “You are Paris, Dany.”

As it was the city where they’d met, fallen in love, and found true happiness, she grinned, because that was his way of saying how much he loved her. She brushed her lips over his, sighing, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And they kissed, as the Eiffel Tower lit up, and she curled up into him, falling asleep in the city of love and lights.

#jonerys #jonerys au #jonerys drabble #Erika's gorgeous moodboards!#my random drabbles #Paris is always a good idea #Paris and jonerys is a better idea #happy birthday to me lol

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asexualzoro · 1 year

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got tagged by @swordsmans !!

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

you asked if im even still writing One Piece and uh. all my work is third life rn. but one of those works is a One Piece au if that counts

the thing abt my wips is most of them are in my notes app with no title, so ill just. do two parts. here are the ones that actually have titles:

four way intersection

heliography

moonlight ch2

rift au

and here are the rest, based off what im calling htem in my head, a non-exhaustive list

the ancient city one ('cat's etho fic')

various lamplight scraps

treesekai 2: girl help theyre making me do another one

SMoP Ren's df awakening (aka lew writes another beheading)

im normal about doublew life

if anyone wants to send me an ask abt these, they can direct them here OR to the sideblog i actually talk abt my third life fic / obsession on, @liloinkoink. either works!

and i will tag... hmmmmm @cosmicretribution @thewrongshop @pingo1387 @unexpectedly-haunted @yellowsomethings @cowlovely its 1am im not tagging 4 more people

(related if anyone asks me abt these, know ill be answering them tomorrow lmao)

#also gyro thank you for tagging me bc for some reaosn i wasnt following you even tho i Definitely shoul dbe #fixing that now but im ???????????? when the fuck did that happen #love tumblr. love that it works

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wing-ed-thing · 3 years

Text

Bread Boy (Rock Lee x Reader, College AU)

Synopsis: You knew that his name was Rock Lee and that he lived on the third floor. Sure he seemed a bit odd, but you didn’t understand what the fuss was about.

Word Count: 2,040

Warnings: Mild bullying

Notes: I looked up Bread Boy and it wasn’t something dirty so I have my fingers crossed that it remains being nothing bad. @beethebunny requested a modern au reader insert for Rock Lee in a post three years ago so here it is! If anyone knows how to get in touch with them that would be great. I tried their Reddit but nothing’s coming up for me.

You had been sitting at the common room table for about an hour now. A video played on your screen and the lecture in your earbuds. You fidgeted with the touch pad of your laptop and rewound, trying to focus for the third time. You drummed your pen against the textbook that sat open next to you. Okay, so we have a population. When we take a sample from that population we get-

“He looks ridiculous.” You glanced up from your screen. “How does he not know how stupid he looks right now?”

You tried your best to ignore the small group that began to form around the common room windows. They laughed to themselves, eyes following a figure below around the quad. You turned back to your work. A little noise could be expected from studying in a shared space. You could handle that, right? So, if p̂ is a ratio-

“Now he’s on his hands.” You slammed your pen down on the table. A few heads turned towards the noise and you sheepishly looked away, placing a hand over your mouth. You paused the lecture recording and ripped your earbuds from your ears. Standing for the first time in a while, you stretched your legs. You gave in, approaching the windows to see what all the fuss was about.

Rock Lee lived in your hall, but you didn’t know much about him besides that his name was Rock Lee and that he lived on the third floor. Down below, he walked on his hands in what you could only assume were laps around the quad. You glanced back at the group that found more amusement in the sight than you did.

“Look at what he’s wearing, like, does he think he’s impressing anyone?”

“Maybe he’s exercising to exercise.” You mused. You looked from Rock Lee down below to find that eyes were on you. You gave a curt shrug. “He doesn’t have to impress anyone.” The girl from before scoffed.

“Well he certainly isn’t.” She earned a laugh from behind her. You sat back down at your seat. Not your problem.

***

A few hours had passed when you finally slammed down the lid of your computer. Stuffing your belongings into your bag, you decided that your brain had been officially fried for the day. Your stomach grumbled. A trip to the dining hall sounded promising.

You slung your bag onto your shoulder and pushed the button to the elevator. You took in the various groups that settled in the small public space. A few guys watched Rick and Morty loudly on the Roku TV. Most of the floor chatted with each other, tilting their chairs backwards as they did so. A handful of your neighbors discussed conspiracy theories on the academic whiteboard. The elevator doors opened.

You noticed when you got outside that the sun had set. Perhaps you had studied for longer than you thought. The journey to the dining hall was made quickly and hungrily. You made short work of swiping in and made a beeline to the french fries. Plate full, you searched for a table when you were waved over to one. Sakura signaled to you. Her pink hair stood out in the crowd of diners.

“Hey Sakura,” You greeted her as you walked over. “What’s up?” The blond from across from her cackled over his two full plates.

“Her tuesdays fuckin’ suck, that’s what’s up!” You came to stand before the pair, already snacking.

“Naruto!” Sakura rolled her eyes before turning to face you, “Come sit, you don’t have to stand, you know.” You placed your food down on the table next to the pinkette and pulled up a chair. She faced you again.

“What’s on your schedule that sucks so much?”

“I got a four hour lab with Orochimaru at 6:10.” Sakura melted into the table, motioning to the lab pack that hung on her chair. She groaned, a hand over her face.

“Yikes,” You recoiled, sharing her pained expression.

“I know, right? That’s pre-med for you” Sakura checked her phone. “I have seven minutes to get to Uchiha Hall. I swear, I never get a break.” She sighed.

You glanced at Naruto as he inhaled his mountain of food. It looked as if he hit every station in the dining hall. You could see chicken tenders, two burgers, and noodles of one sort or another. Cups of various finger food were stacked in two mounds on the two plates and Naruto tackled them like a man on a mission.

“You’re still in ROTC, right? Are they working you hard too?” You questioned. Naruto looked up in surprise at the burgers he currently double fisted.

“Nah’ fe’ lon’!” He laughed, mouth full. “Rot’sy suks ash!” You blinked. Sakura laughed and playfully slapped your shoulder.

“That’s ‘Naruto’ for ‘I don’t like Might Guy’.” Sakura gave another exasperated look at the blond. The two of you giggled together as Naruto let out a defensive cry. He picked up the last chicken tender from one of his plates.

“Hey, now that’s not true! Just because I could go without the excessive workouts doesn’t mean-” Sakura’s phone rang and she hastily snoozed her alarm.

“I gotta go! Take care of my plate, would you Naruto?” As soon as she scooped up her lab equipment, she bolted from the table. You took the plate and stacked it on top of the one Naruto cleared.

You didn’t know Naruto well. He was more Sakura’s friend than yours and the conversation died down from the time she left. You remained in your seats peacefully and silently scrolling through your phones. Both of you plucked fries from your plate. You glanced up at him. One on one time with Naruto turned out to be surprisingly peaceful. Or it was.

A blur of green entered your peripheral and in a blink, Rock Lee stood in front of you holding the biggest sandwich you had ever seen.

“Hello! I have seen you around before! My name is Rock Lee!” You took a second to process. He did not talk fast or unclearly by any means, but to your burnt out brain he may as well have been speaking another language. It didn’t help that you were still focused on the sandwich. You gawked at it. The sheer shape and size of it easily could have come out of a Scooby-Doo episode. Every meat and vegetable available seemed to be between those two slices of bread and they were all squished down as best as they could. Lee set his plate down while you paused. Still standing over the chair, he turned to Naruto who sat to his right. “And you know my friend Naruto!”

Naruto chuckled nervously before grabbing his three plates.

“That’s my cue to leave!” He whispered, leaving you alone as Lee took Naruto’s place across from you. He ignored the words and disappearance of the blond. You gave him your name slowly and albeit more softly. He stared at you, stars in his eyes.

“They cut me off from the sandwich station.” You wondered if you had zoned out somewhere between Naruto leaving and your greeting.

You glanced to your left, then your right, then back at him. “They… cut you off from the sandwich station.” You asked as much as you stated. Lee picked up the comically sized sandwich with two hands, digging right into it.

“Apparently there is a limit to how much turkey one can put on a sandwich before they cut you off.” He squished it down. “So I asked for the same amount of ham and they told me I could not come back today.”

“Oh.” You didn’t quite know what to say. “Sorry about that.” You opted, sticking a fry into your mouth.

“Do not be! I am cut off every day and this is my fifth sandwich!” You choked.

“Fifth?” You asked in disbelief. “Why so many?”

“One must consume lots of protein to enhance muscle growth.” Lee stated between bites, practically inhaling his giant meal. You leaned on the table, studying him closely.

“Yeah, I see you a lot around campus. You seem like you workout a lot.”

“All the time!” You let out a light laugh.

“I wish I had that kind of work ethic. I’m definitely less active than I want to be.”

“You should join me some time!” Lee chewed happily, “Or perhaps I could design a workout routine that best suits you.”

Rock Lee was definitely an odd one, but he was also… sweet. That’s about when you really took him in. Ignoring the green tracksuit proved to be a feat of its own, but you found yourself mentally brushing your fingers through his messy hair. You could read his excitement and passion for life in his wide eyes. You smiled at the way he ate. Nothing in front of you could possibly be anything that someone could dislike.

“That…” You paused, thinking back to the group gathered around the windows in the common room, but those thoughts were quickly shaken. “That sounds nice, Lee.”

Lee’s eyes lit up once again. A certain warmth came to you each time you saw him become excited. He rattled off his schedule and you exchanged yours. You didn’t have any classes together in the current semester, but as the conversation progressed, you found yourself excited at the prospect of spending time with him.

The both of you got up every once in a while to grab more snacks but ultimately settled back into your same seats. And like that, a five minute conversation turned into a two hour conversation. The time was around eight when you decided that you should go. Leaving your dishes with the washers at the very end of the dining hall hours wouldn’t be very courteous, so the two of you headed back to the dorms together.

Rain poured from the sky and you flipped up the hood of your hoodie and braced for the wetness from above. It never hit you. Instead came a light pitter patter. Lee held the umbrella for the two of you.

“Thank you, Lee.” You smiled as you walked. Puddles splashed under your boots but the weather remained light. Lee’s face shone under the lamplight. “So, is your real name ‘Rock’? Or is that just a nickname?” A bashful smile overtook his lips.

“It is my real name. You see, every member of my family is named after music. Just as an example, my father’s name is Blues and I am Rock.”

“I like that,” You told him softly, “That’s unique. It must be nice to have that kind of connection with your family.”

“It is.” You were too busy staring at Lee to realize that you both had reached the dorm. He swiped his ID and held the door open for you. You pushed the button to the elevator as he wrapped up his umbrella.

“Lee,'' You pursed your lips. As you pushed the buttons to your respective floors. You looked into his innocent, expecting eyes. You hesitated and the elevator opened to the third floor. You held it open with your foot. “I just thought that you should know that people tend to, well… I thought you should know that some people from our building have been poking fun at you.”

“Oh yes! We do live in the same building!” He gave out a loud, jolly laugh. Red tinted his cheeks. “How did I not notice this? What a funny coincidence!”

“Did you hear what I said?” Lee paused. His features softened.

“I appreciate you telling me, but I do not care.” The serious look didn’t stay for long. His usual positivity and determination quickly enveloped him again.

“You don’t?”

“Why would I care about what people think of me bettering myself?” You inwardly kicked yourself, suddenly feeling very small. Embarrassment burned within you.

“Wow, I never thought of it like that before.” You met his eyes, but you quickly looked away. “You really are something, Lee.”

“The best person you can be is yourself.” Lee smiled, fully stepping off the elevator. You matched his grin and withdrew your hand, letting the door close.

“Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Lee.”

Notes: Out of all my fics this one is most based on real life. But, in this scenario I was the Rock Lee in the top section. I make it a point to maintain muscle and take care of myself. I wouldn’t say I’m Rock Lee levels of fit, but I used to get made fun of for going on runs in the quad all the time. The conversation Lee has with Reader by the elevator is near the same conversation I had with someone on my floor.

The second section Rock Lee in the dining room was loosely based on a friend of mine who has since transferred. He actually did offer to make me a workout routine when I first started getting into fitness and would get those huge sandwiches multiple times a day. It was to the point where the sandwich makers would recognize him and know his order.

I hope you enjoyed!

#rock lee #rock lee x reader #rock lee x you #x you #x reader #reader insert #college au #naruto #naruto uzumaki #sakura haruno #sakura #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #naruto imagine

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ladyideal · 3 years

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The Faceless Shadow: I

Word Count: 2073

Warnings: spoilers of s1 finale, mention of rape, mention of murder, Billy Butcher, language, alcohol

Summary: Five years later, you enjoy life after years of hardwork bringing NYC under one rule.

A/n: yeah... let's just yeah.

Five Years Later

$1.50

You frowned at the prices of the last stack of newspaper in front of the glass window. Billy Butcher's face smirking up at you from the front cover aggravated you. Sure it'd been some time since the Mallory incident, but you'd lost men to Lamplighter when Frenchie left his post. Begrudgingly, you threw in the needed money and snatched the old, wrinkly paper out of its casing.

Using people was what he enjoyed doing, and what he would continue doing in his quest for vengeance. Losing an associate was pitiful, but to one of your made men? There wasn't going to be a second chance. Zero wasn't happy, and you certainly were ticked off at the past still. Tucking the newspaper clip into your jacket, you headed back to the club.

Ten fronts. All ranging from clubs to restaurants. Mostly legitimate, in terms of paying taxes. New York City was divided into Staten Island, Queens, Manhattan, Bronx, and Brooklyn. Zero headed Queens, and your third took over Staten Island. Although your main headquarters was situated in Brooklyn, you enjoyed the sights and the skyscrapers of Manhattan.

Including Vought Tower.

Vought. The head of supes and all things capitalism. The main reason why you kept all business on the very down low, despite the very club that even some of The Seven visited regularly. Blackmail: A very old fashioned, but reliable form of silence.

Rounding a few corners, you slowed to a halt in front of the vip line. The DJ was in by now, and the lines outside grew by the minute as the sun dipped below the horizon. Two bouncers in black stood outside, flanking both sides of the entrance and refusing bribes for those wanting to enter early. The Vortex was a popular club, and business was booming. Noticing you, the two bouncers stepped aside. And with a polite nod, you entered the club, much to the dismay and protests from behind.

Music pulsate as lights from the dance floor shined and glittered within the dark. The DJ was in, and every body cheered. Rounded tables littered around the edges with plenty of people of all ages, drinking, grinding on one another, and flirting with the multitude of waitresses and sex workers. Smoking was prohibited within, but all was allowed on the outdoor spaces filled with recliners, a pool, and a jacuzzi.

Ignoring the cat calls thrown your way from those relaxing in the lounges, you headed deeper within the nightclub. Taking a few turns into a less populated section and nodding again at the bouncers standing guard at the bottom of the VIP stairs, you headed up. At the landing, all eyes nervously turned to you.

And rightly so.

Most knew you were high up in the family. You've made it that way for a reason. The less people knew, the better. Very few people knew who you truly were. With a quick wave, a smile, and a polite hello, you ducked onto another flight of stairs towards your office.

"Oi, dick face, what are you looking at them for?" Came from behind. Last you knew before you closed the door, was the sound of a brawl. Sighing, you plopped into your office chair and-

"Boss, I've got the year's expenses on your desk." Grace spoke from the speakerphone, effectively shattering your peace.

"Thanks Grace," You mumbled, pushing the stack of documents to the side. All you wanted was to grab a drink, keep an eye on the offshore accounts, and call it a night. Definitely didn't want a headache with the financial advisor on how to keep your fronts legit. Taxes could go fuck themselves, if you had a say in it. "I'll take a look at them later. Just log it in for next year's tax season."

"Oh and one more thing."

"Yeah?" You reached down into your mini fridge for a beer.

"Well- it's." A nervous pause. "There's someone on the line asking for you." Another pause.

"Who is it?" You asked, popping the cap off and leaning back into your chair.

"Butcher."

There was a long pause of silence as you tumbled the name on your lips. It had been years since you last saw him, much less even contacted. Ever since the Mallory incident, you immediately cut ties with the former SAS Special Force. Two of your men were burned by Lamplighter, and you haven't quite forgiven him.

"No. Tell him I'm busy. I don't want to speak with him. He can go find help elsewhere."

"He insisted."

Unfurling the newspaper from within your jacket, you laid it out on your desk, frowning down at the same man that wanted to speak with you. The small picture of Butcher himself scowled up at you on the front page, making headlines for brutally murdering Vought's VP. You sighed.

"I'm sorry, I tried. But he's a-" A nervous chuckle. "He's a weasel."

You waved the apology away. "Put him through. We'll talk about this later."

An audible gulp. "He's on line 2 whenever you're ready."

Green light above Line 2 flashed steadily on your landline. Rather reluctantly, you leaned forward and plucked the landline phone up, already regretting giving Butcher your office number. Leaning back once more, you dimmed the lights down and closed your eyes. "We agreed to never contact again."

"Hello love." A familiar voice spoke loudly against the backdrop of New York traffic.

"No. Whatever the hell you have planned, I don't want part of it. Things are finally looking up, and I'm not going to fuck up this chance. Vought's stocks are booming. I'm making money, don't have to worry constantly on anyone placing a hit on me. Zero is having the time of their life. I'm out of that mercenary life, found a different calling. "

An annoyed sigh. "How is Zero?"

"Married with their husband. Life is good," You shrugged. "If you've got nothing else to say, then I'm heading off to finish this fucking beer. Goodbye Butcher."

"Give me one fucking minute, love. I'll explain everything."

Got nothing to lose. "Forty five seconds and counting."

"Becca. I found Becca. Me wife has a son, Homelander's son. The cunt fucking raped my wife, fucking hid her away for so long. I was there. I saw her. Green lawn. White picket. I can find her with your help. You, mate, as a person of your skills." A pause. "Sitting behind a desk. Wasted."

"Look what Lamplighter did. Burned two of my men. Burned Mallory's grandchildren. Nothing to bring back home, not even their teeths," You hissed, slamming the beer onto the office table. Bubbles sloshed down the bottle, pooled, and dripped down onto the carpet. "It has always been about Becca with you. Becca this, Becca that. No, Butcher. Screwed up that one chance. I'm not doing it. You just don't care. You use your friends, then throw them to the side like fucking garbage when you're done."

"It'll be different this go. None of that "secrets and lies" bollocks. And that Mallory shit ain't gonna happen this time. I swear to God."

Drip. Drip.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, hating every syllable the man on the other line breathed out. With a shake of your head, you sighed, reigning in your anger and pulling out a cabinet for paper towels. "Alright, motherfucker. What did you do? The cameras at the club picked you up."

"We just dusted a supe." Butcher smugly spoke, confidence oozing through the line.

"Bullshit."

"Translucent."

That cheeky bastard. "How the fuck did you do it?"

"Well. Big lump of C-4, packed right up his fudger. Boom," He was excited. "Boom. Claret everywhere. Fucking diabolical."

"But…?" You cut into his amazement.

"He coughed up a solid lead. Spilled the beans in a big way. Now, we play this right, we could shake up the whole hornets' nest, bring down Seven and Vought at the same time. Y/N, you are the only one I can trust."

You raised an eyebrow at the mention of your name, dance so delicately on his tongue. It was as if the man was putting you on a pedestal. "Names are powerful, Butcher. You know this. However, since when have you ever trusted anybody?"

There was a sly pause on the other end.

Fights were less often nowadays. Since the fall of the fifth family of New York, there was no need for the heightened anxiety to be on the lookout. Nowadays with your tight grip, it was just petty gangsters that riddle the streets, pretending to be big and bad. Some killed, robbed, or graffitied, all in the name of trying to impress you. No action, no thrilling action that needed your every second of attention.

And if you were going to be honest with yourself, you missed the action, the absolute adrenaline pumping thrill of physically working towards a common goal. There was a camaraderie in that sense, where no place else could ever replicate, but neck deep in shit.

"Oh, fuck me," You mumbled in defeat.

Eats Everything: @asraime @aspiring-ginger @mournthewicked @bluesclues-1234 @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @groovyfluxie @keijibum @also-fangirlinsweden @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @your-sparklywinnercollection @yakuzussian-2nd @supergeekfangirl @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations

Karl Urban: @fandomsfeelsandfamily @justa-traaash @yueci @writerdee1701 @hlabounty96 @lacychick

The Boys: @space-cowboy2227

#billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #the boys #billy butcher series #the faceless shadow #x mob boss reader #deb writes

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unexpectedly-haunted · 2 years

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Hi! I’m Haunted (he/him) and welcome to my Hermitcraft & Traffic SMPs sideblog! Main is @unpredictably-ghostly so likes/follows will be from there.

This is mostly my art and other reblogs, though I also write sometimes! My tags are #ghost art #ghost writing and #ghost post. Any ship is tagged with #trafficshipping or #hermitshipping as well as the ship name (it’s nearly all treebark).

Watching a reasonable amount of hermits for s10 including: Ren, Cub, Grian, Mumbo, Scar, Bdubs, Tango, Cleo, Gem, Zedaph, Beef, Joel, Impulse, and Skizz!

Most of this blog is about Rendog and/or InTheLittleWood, both inside and outside the Traffic series, because I watched Third Life and haven’t known peace since.

My inbox is always open (and on anon), especially for fic recommendations or art requests!

Helped make a Renchanting-centric fantasy-style AU with @/liloinkoink! The masterpost is here and check #lamplight au for more :D

#ghost post #flashing lights

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chokefriends · 3 years

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Anatomy model Eustass Kid

By @godims0tired ♡ for my fic Life Drawing

Rating: E

Warnings: None

Characters & ships: Eustass Kid / Trafalgar Law

Word count: 2978

Summary: Law practices his anatomical drawing with Kidd as his subject. With his devil fruit abilities he can see right inside him.

Kidd finds this insanely romantic.

~~~

Read on Ao3 or below the cut. I know it's an older fic by now but I havent posted it here before so here!

~~~

Kidd jerked into full awareness as he lay sprawled in his bed. He checked around himself without moving and sensed a second heartbeat in the room, near enough that the dim echoes of its electrical impulses lapped at his skin like waves. Slow and calm. Just watching then; not yet poised to attack…

There were eyes on him.

It took him a moment to remember that the other heartbeat was supposed to be there. He wasn't used to having bedmates stay overnight.

Red eyes slid open and found keen grey ones fixed on him.

“The fuck you staring at.”

“You, idiot.”

The big redheaded sprawl snorted crassly at that and flopped over, returning the stare with sleepy menace.

Law smirked. He was wedged sideways in one of the heavy carved armchairs in Kidd's quarters, loosely wrapped in a sheet and busily scritch scritching in a large book. His gaze flicked from page to Kidd and back.

Kidd prodded him, “See something you want, Trafalgar? Come over here and take it.”

His limbs were still all loose and languid from when they'd fucked a couple hours before, but Kidd could stand to go another round. Especially with the sharp, evaluating looks Law was throwing him right now.

“Come on, c'mere.”

“Later. Go back to sleep, Eustass-ya.” The pen bobbed.

“Don’ wanna. What are you doing still up?”

“Just passing the time until my brain decides to let me fall asleep.” Law's insomniac woes again.

“A good fuck will do that for you. Lemme do the ligature thing and you'll be out like bam .” Kidd offered generously.

“Heheh. Thanks but oxygen deprivation is not the kind of sleep aid I need.”

“Your loss.”

Kidd burrowed into his cluster of satiny pillows with a sigh. For an infamously brutal pirate captain he sure liked his little extravagances. The whole room was draped with horribly clashing bits of luxurious fabrics and furs, and the odd shiny sharp thing. The manic magpie whims of past raids.

“Nah, that's no good,” Law recrossed long legs over the chair’s arm, well cushioned with some spotted pelt. “Go back to where you were a second ago.”

“Are you…? What, taking notes on me? Writing an ode to the sinful curve of my flawless ass?”

“Something like that. I'm adding my own anatomical diagrams to this medical text. It’s my favourite for reference material but the illustrations are scanty and kinda shit -- it's like they've never dissected anyone before.”

“Nice. Add a diagram of these.” Kidd kicked up a leg.

“Hah. I'm nowhere near the section on genital abnormalities, but I'll look you up when I get there. Turn on your side again, I was doing upper body musculature.”

“Ooo. I got lots of that, yeah.” Kidd complied.

The lamplight was flickering low behind Law. Kidd could see him and his book backlit dimly, the small hairs on his leanly muscled shoulders aglow like a nimbus. Tinged subtly blue.

Wait, blue?

“Do you have a Room up?”

“Yeah, so I can scan down and see the actual anatomical stuff.”

“Huh. That's handy. You don't even have to dissect anyone.”

“Yeah but it’s easier to see everything if you physically open someone up. You can isolate the individual structures that way.” Law peeked overtop of the book. “And it's more fun to do it the old-fashioned way, heh…”

Kidd gave a low laugh. Law wasn't even joking, he knew. He imagined waking up one night like this, to find some part of him delicately splayed open and the dark haired doctor sketching away with the same expression. If Law used his devil fruit power he could do it painlessly and bloodlessly, without even waking him. Kidd had seen him sever heads away from bodies completely within that blue sphere, both pieces still functioning as one. He’d never been the subject of that eerie power himself, though.

He didn’t think so, anyway.

Law untangled himself from chair and sheet, and finally came over to join him on the bed. Kidd was gifted briefly with a full view of the lithe figure. His recent handiwork was beginning to show in the mottling that ran up either thigh and the bites framing his chest tattoos.

The long limbs refolded next to him. “Stay there, I wanna do the neck muscles now.”

“Lemme see that first.”

“Don't be grabby,” Law complained, but gave up the book.

“Holy fuck.” Kidd flipped through studies of his back, shoulders, hands. “So that's how I look without skin, huh.”

He had been expecting more… yeah. Skin.

“I did say I was drawing the muscles.”

“And my bones and everything.”

“Yeah. Good skeletal structure too. Several odd calluses where breaks didn't quite set right, though.”

“You can see all of that?”

“Yeah, of course. Like I said, I can scan down to any level. Though it helps if I know already the shape of what I'm looking for.”

Something about the drawings was just so Law. The lines so precise, so sharp, somehow impatient. A little obsessive and overworked on certain details, like the hollow between his collar bones and the knobbly crook of his index finger, broken at least twice. Many practice studies on loose sheets of paper showed that Law had been trying to get these parts just right.

It occurred to Kidd that these weren't just anatomical studies using him as a model -- these were him.

Jotted notes crowded around the practice studies, but Law grabbed the book back before Kidd could read them properly.

“Trafalgar. Does that seriously say I have 8.2 litres of blood in me.”

“Nevermind that. Just an interesting fact. You have a lot of blood.”

Kidd stole another peek as Law held him off. “And that I have a grip strength of 68 kilograms in my right hand?”

“At least. That’s not something I can see; that's from uh, experience.”

Kidd leaned back with his hands laced behind his head to look at Law. “One might misinterpret this as a target profile of some kind.” Because that's exactly what it was -- a detailed map of Kidd’s strongest, and weakest points.

“Whoa, your blood pressure’s spiking.” Law grinned with more teeth than usual and leaned in to hover over him.

“Now you're just showing off,” Kidd complained.

“Does this disturb you?”

That wasn't exactly the feeling that was spreading through him, no. Or not entirely, anyway. Kidd just cracked his neck, stretching it out for Law's benefit, and raised an eyebrow.

“So you wanted some neck action? It's all yours.”

Law seemed to like the sound of that. He angled Kidd’s head away and up with a gentle press of fingers, so the ear and neck were exposed to him.

Kidd watched his shadow flicker on the opposite wall and listened to the pen scratch across paper. The undulating magnetic field of Law’s heart was so close now, washing over him. His own blood thudded in his ears, senses all on high alert from holding himself in this vulnerable position.

He could be fuckin patient. Sometimes. Well… when he had all of Law’s attention focused on him like this, he’d stay still forever. He could feel the sharp eyes on him like a touch. His own eyes started to wander back over…

He jumped a little when Law did touch him, nudging him back into place. And then trailing fingers over the mound behind his ear.

“Sternocleidomastoid,” Law mouthed to himself. “Levator scapulae…” The hand travelled down to his collarbone and rested there lightly, his thumb tracing little circles.

It was so calm. And strange. Rare for the reserved doctor to be so casually intimate. Even while they were fucking, touch was more like a struggle, hands straining against and into each other. Kidd was rough without even trying, but it was Law who seemed to flinch from any contact not resembling combat. Or medical care. Such structured things. He’d objected -- vehemently -- to being “pawed at” and “pet like a lap dog” often enough. As though anything less than bruising force would hurt more.

He was so guarded. It made Kidd greedy.

“You're hard, you know,” Law breathed onto his neck.

“Yeah I'm aware.”

“Heh.”

Tattooed fingers ran along Kidd’s side, over the tight bands hugging the ribs (“Serratus anterior…”), and pinpricks rose in their wake. Kidd found himself arching up against the hand desperately.

“Ah, fuck, Trafalgar…”

“Mhm,” Law responded, distracted. Or pretending to be. He followed a particular cord of muscle down Kidd’s powerful thigh with his thumb. “Sartorius. Gracilis.”

“Dick.”

“No that's not a muscle, Eustass-ya.”

“Oh for the love of GOD.”

Law made a sound that was probably a muffled laugh. “Hold still. I'm doing anatomical studies.”

“Oh is that what we're doing.”

“Obviously.”

“Where's the book.”

“It's…” Law looked around for a minute. “On the floor.”

Kidd covered his face with his hands and just laughed. Law sighed dramatically.

“Well. Guess I gotta start from the top again.”

---

Law could be a pushy bastard when he topped. But he kept up the slow, focused treatment this time and it was driving Kidd fucking insane.

“I'm gonna flip this the fuck around and pound you inside out if it takes any longer.” Kidd growled from under his arm, slung across his face.

This was as close as he could get to actually asking for it. Here he was laid out, so open and ready, core clenching and unclenching. Needing to be fucked, to have hands on him, in him, whatever. All of it.

“Nah you're not.” Law countered smugly.

“F-uck,” was all Kidd could come up with when a third finger twisted into his slicked up hole. His body tensed and spasmed before yielding itself open.

By the time Law was actually fucking him, Kidd had nearly popped a fucking vein.

Law pushed in slowly, slowly. Until they were pressed together as tight as they could go, breath hot on each other's faces.

“Shit, Tr--ahh…”

“Eustass-ya…”

He was done with all the slow shit. Kidd was a shifting mass of need under him and honestly, he was even more worked up. He dragged almost all the way out only to grind back in hard, and the tight body jolted.

“Aw fuck, yeah…”

Law braced his weight on his arms, pressing Kidd’s hips into the bed. He watched the muscles bunch beneath him with each impact, Kidd straining to meet him. Watched through skin so pale it was translucent, glowing and rippling.

Kidd still wasn't entirely sure what to make of that gaze. All hunger and splitting seams, open lips and ragged breath.

He quirked up one corner of a mocking mouth.

“The fuck’re you-- ah --staring at?”

Law didn't answer for a moment. Under Kidd's skin it was like… layers of red ribbons, wrapping him up. The ribbons all pulling and straining against each other when Kidd moved (when Law moved in him), like something inside was trying to burst out. Under them, ribs curving -- jealous fingers. Wetly clinging membranes. Then under that…

“Your heart. It's…”

Their bodies collided, beaded with sweat. Harder. More. Law could see, hear Kidd's heart beating faster as he picked up his pace. God, he could feel it in his palms. In his dick. Beating so strong it echoed in his ears, drowning out his own.

“Fucking perfect. It's perfect.”

Kidd laughed breathlessly. His heart. What the hell. “...You wanna get your hands on that too?”

Law did.

He wanted to grip it, feel it flutter, make it burst …

… What if I could? he thought. He slowed, thinking, and spread a hand over Kidd’s breastbone. Not just to incapacitate through dismemberment, but to cut a piece from the whole, one vital piece…

Kidd watched the pensive eyes flicker and gave him a swift jab of encouragement with his heel.

“You'll just have to get hold of it the old fashioned way. Hahahaaa…”

“Hah.” Law shook himself from his distracted state. He picked up a pace that was slower than before, though not less jarring. “Like… I should court you or like I should cut you open?”

“Whichever ...ah ... But you should fuckin get me off first.” Kidd guided the tattooed hand down from his chest to his dripping cock, and Law obliged, finally.

They fucked with foreheads pressed together and grips slipping on sweat slick skin. Kidd thought of Law digging his hands right into his chest and came in jerking starts like it was being beaten out of him, legs clamped tight around him. Skin thrumming with the echoes of hands and heartbeat.

---

Kidd flipped through the last few drawings with some undefinable flutter in his gut.

“That's some shit you won't see in any other textbook.”

“Mhm.” Law allowed himself to press against Kidd just slightly as they lay sprawled out, sweat drying in the cool air. He was in a fuckin good mood, kinda dazed.

“I do look damn good without skin, I'll say that much.”

“Heh. And with. You can see the suprasternal notch really clearly even under the skin, it's nice. I fuckin love all of that. That area.”

Kidd choked a little but Law didn't seem to realize what he'd said. And that's not even what he meant anyway, Kidd told himself.

But the whole thing kinda was the same as a confession, at least as far as Law went. The drawings, as vaguely threatening as they were, betrayed an intimate preoccupation with Kidd's finer points. Maybe even admiration. Definitely possessiveness. Need.

“I wanna do you too.”

Law grinned, “Already?”

“Not that, idiot. Draw you.”

“I didn’t know you could draw.”

“Well, draft. I can draft things -- just basic. For engineering stuff on the ship, mostly.”

“Oh, nice!” Law bounced up to get fresh paper from the floor by the chair. “How does one usually draft stuff? Don’t you need a triangle thing? Compasses, etcetera?”

“Maybe. I’ll just make an outline for now.”

Law seemed right into this whole idea. “Draw me like one of your machines, Eustass-ya.” He draped himself dramatically across the bed and Kidd shoved him with a grin.

“How do you want me, though.”

Kidd appreciated that question for a moment.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “I don’t know how to draw from life -- like perspective or anything. So it’s gonna be pretty diagrammatic. I just need a few details and some numbers.”

“Like specifications? How to build a Trafalgar?”

“Yeah, so I can make another if this one breaks.”

That made him laugh.

“Okay lie out flat and lemme measure you.”

“With what measuring tools?”

“I'll just eyeball it,” Kidd insisted.

This turned out to mean that he was going to get his hands all over him, which Law supposed was fair. He tensed and shied but stayed mostly still, letting Kidd explore his dimensions and proportions. Pages filled up with ratios and vectors of movement. Things got off track again around when Kidd was testing the rotation arc of his arms and quickly became vicious rutting. Light, skimming hands could become crushing ones so quickly.

Anyway, turned out that Law could get off while his arms were being hyperextended behind his back. Pretty effectively, in fact.

After, when they were laid out next to each other once again, and Law’s breaths were finally lengthening into sleep, Kidd dared to try another light touch. Without their thin pretense of functionality this time -- just want. He smoothed a hand over all the tattoos he'd taken such careful note of earlier. A large heart on his chest with a grinning skull similar to his Jolly Roger. Hearts on his shoulders. Kidd’s fingerprints blooming dark purple on his upper arms.

Sixty-eight kilograms of pressure and Law hadn't made a sound, but a feather touch over the marks and a quiet ah pushed past his lips.

“Whose emblem is that tattoo?”

Law mumbled with his eyes closed, “Someone who died. Long time ago.”

“Someone…” Kidd repeated to himself, but didn't probe. “You going to get any more?”

“Nah.” His breath stuttered slightly when Kidd trailed knuckles down his jaw. “I just like… your marks…”

He fell asleep with Kidd's lips against the shell of his ear.

---

A roll of broadsheet tied with string arrived by carrier gull when Law was back on his sub some days later. He stole away to his cluttered quarters and spread the roll out on the bed.

Inside the broadsheet was a large-format technical drawing.

There were three flat outlines of Law: front, back, side. All heavily marked out in blunt pencil, all surrounded by arcs and lines, dotted and solid, indicating measurements and angles of motion. The insides of the outlines were empty except for perfectly to scale renderings of his tattoos.

#kidlaw #trafalgar law #eustass kid #fanart #thank you so much dude i really mean it!#its exactly how I imagined laws drawing style to be ♡

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