#im going to finish two fics

[silveredsticks]

christmas eve ramble tags and some pictures of me and nice things from this year that i have randomly at 2:47am on christmas eve decided to post on tumblr. like why am I posting my face idek but I just felt reflective and i always just dump my rambles on whichever blog I'm using the most 🙈 i have not thought very hard about picking these. my motivation is that i want to force myself into acknowledging that for the majority of this year i felt good. I did good things for my health, and at work, and for my friends and family (even though I am desperate always to tell myself that i have never done anything good for anyone ever.) I found a new fun thing & lovely kind fun people to help me explore it. i got to sleep with my hand on/in Henry (cat not popstar) belly fur. yes i started having panic attacks about stuff to do w my dad, and money is tight (i mean i live in syd..) and i miss my mum and sara and i maybeee spent far too much time speaking to my ex fiance until he went on some rant about family law and I got the ick for once and for all lmao - but i was happy on many occasions.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

It's thirty til midnight 'n the house is crowded with the hot press of bodies. Someone's shoutin'. Actually, most of 'em are shoutin'. The living room stinks like the spilled beer Two's ground down into the carpet. The TV's playin'. Some New Year's special that Pony's glued to. The record players skippin' its way through a Christmas album. The tree's still up 'cause none of them would let Darry take it down 'til after New Year's.

Darry checks his watch once, runs his thumb absently over the face, compares it to the little glowin' clock above the stove, stands up 'n shifts past the card game Johnny has been creamin' Dallas at for the last half hour. Darry wasn't sure how he had any money to his name left. He steps over the coffee table 'n catches the hand of pure shit Dallas grins 'n ups the bet on. Good lord Johnny was gonna have the shirt off his back before the night was over.

Soda's bouncin' back 'n forth between the holiday special 'n the card game, offerin' commentary only Johnny seems to enjoy. Steve's got a huge bowl of popcorn Darry had fixed balanced on his lap, pitchin' kernels at Two's mouth as he dives for 'em.

Darry sighs, snatches one out of the air 'n pops it into his own mouth, steppin' out of the way so Two falls unceremoniously onto his knees with a grin.

"Hey! I was gonna catch that one!" Darry rolls his eyes, absently grabs Pony from where he had his nose three inches from the tube 'n hauls him back, much to Pony's indignation.

"Sure you were. Just like you were gonna catch the other thirty or so that I'm gonna have to vacuum outta the carpet." But he doesn't really mean it. The mood's high 'n Darry's just pleased to have 'em all together. Outta trouble 'n safe.

"Hey it ain't my fault Steve can't throw straight! He ain't exactly got your arm, Dar." Two wraps both hands around Darry's bicep 'n Darry hauls him up, danglin' like a monkey with his knees all bent.

"Hey!" Steve takes his opportunity 'n dives off the couch, nearly dumpin' the entirety of the bowl onto Dallas' head. Dally yowls, drops his cards onto the table 'n snatches for Steve's ankles to drag him back across the floor. Johnny leans over, tips the cards up, 'n grins to himself, then promptly sprawls to the side to avoid Darry shakin' Two off him 'n onto the floor.

Soda, never to be left out, throws himself into the mess of limbs until they're all a tangled mass of carpet burn 'n sharp-toothed peels of laughter. Darry disentangles himself, hovers in the doorway 'n watches them for a moment. Then he checks his watch again, adjusts the worn leather strap, peers at the clock on the stove glowin' softly through the darkness of the kitchen, 'n slips out the back door.

He knows his time is numbered 'cause Pony 'n Soda have always been herders. Had to know where everyone was at all times. But Pony's sleepy 'n zoned in on the TV like a lifeline 'n Soda's had two shots (both hastily over the kitchen sink 'cause Pony still thought Soda was drunk on the plain idea of bein' alive 'n they all liked to let him think it) so he had maybe just a few more minutes than usual.

It's fridged outside. The kinda cold that burns along his bare arms 'n makes his breath hang in low clouds around his face.

He can't really explain it. He's never been real good about the holidays. They're just... heavy. Even before, well, everythin'.

He crosses the porch, sinks down on the stair 'n blinks down the empty street. There's a light or two on. One house or the other still holdin' out for midnight. Most are quiet 'n dark 'n Darry's heart does an odd little flip in his chest.

He doesn't know why he thinks about the winter he was twelve 'n had been the best of friends with the boy that lived on the corner. Or why his stomach sinks when he thinks about how hard he'd cried when they had moved out. Inconsolable even when their mama had pulled him up into her lap (though he was too big for that. Too big for needin' his mama.) (that last bit was never true. He still needed his mama. Maybe more than he ever had before.) 'n had just cried 'n cried 'til Soda 'n Pony had come home from wherever they'd been 'n that had been that. 'Cause he shouldn't cry in front of his brothers. He should be strong for them.

Somethin' shatters to the ground inside 'n jerks Darry outta his memory.

"Sorry!" Someone hollers 'n Darry chuckles to himself. Man, maybe he shouldn't have had that last beer. He must be in too good of a mood 'cause he doesn't even think about goin' in to reem out whoever was breakin' shit. But he knows that's not true 'n it ain't the beer to blame.

He runs his hands up 'n down his arms, stands up 'n crosses the lawn, dead 'n dry in winter, leans against the fence 'n hisses when the metal bites into his arms. He sighs, kicks at the hole ripped in the bottom, smiles absently to himself.

Soda 'n Two had put that there. Had run one of those push petal cars so hard into it they'd both flown off 'n scraped knees 'n elbows 'n come crawlin' up the steps with, not two, but three missin' teeth between the two of them.

God, they must have been in middle school then. When had they grown up so much?

"Agh put me down you sonofabitch!" Somethin' else hits the ground but this time Darry's mostly sure it's a person. No one wails so he figures he's still safe. 'N he ain't ready to go back in yet.

He checks his watch, fiddles with the knob on the side, a nervous habit he's had since he was eighteen. Fifteen minutes to go. Plenty of time.

A breeze kicks up, swings the gate open 'n closed so it lets out a low, mournful squeal. It hadn't hung right since the summer Darry was ten. They'd always just jumped the fence, givin' each other the boosts they refused to ask for, gigglin' when their mama had called them coyotes, takin' runnin' starts 'n laughin' off when they misjudged it 'n came down hard on their knees. Their daddy had sworn he was gonna fix it every summer since.

He never got to.

Last month they'd had a real bad wind storm that pushed that old gate forlornly back 'n forth for hours, wailin' 'n moanin' until Darry had scowled 'n muttered he was gonna fix that goddamn thing if it was the last thing he ever did. 'N then he'd looked over at Pony 'n they both suddenly felt sick to their stomachs.

He never did get around to it.

The wind howls 'n Darry flexes his fingers, realizes suddenly its the only sound he can hear. He checks his watch again. Five minutes to go. He should go back inside.

But then he's runnin' his fingers around the face 'n thinkin' about the people not waitin' for him back in that hot 'n crowded living room. Thinkin' about how it ain't really his watch.

It had been his daddy's. His pride 'n joy. Thick leather strap 'n gold platin' around the face 'n it had been his granddaddy's before him. God, Darry had coveted it. Could remember bein' thirteen, runnin' fingers around 'n around it til it shone. Fifteen 'n askin' his daddy if he'd pass it down to him one day. Eighteen when he had put it in his hands on his graduation day.

You gotta watch out for it. The time flies, kiddo. Be careful how you spend it.

Darry doesn't hear the screen door slam, or the patterin' footsteps across the lawn, or the creak of the fence as someone leans against it til Soda's there, head restin' down on Darry's shoulder. Darry jumps, scrubs the back of his hand against the tears so hot against his flushed cheeks they burn. 'Cause he shouldn't cry in front of his brothers. He had to be strong.

"I figured I'd find you out here." Soda wraps a blanket, stolen from the couch, around Darry's arms 'n he suddenly realizes just how cold he is. He sighs, pulls Soda in 'n tucks him under his elbow.

"C'mon, Soda. You shouldn't be out here." 'N he shouldn't. 'Cause he shouldn't ruin everyone else's good time with his stupid achin'. "Let's get you back inside."

Soda tilts his head back 'n blinks up at Darry. Or, no he doesn't. He doesn't need to. Hasn't needed to look up to Darry in a long time, long since hit that final growth spurt that had their mama lettin' out all his jean hems 'n hopin' they stopped below his ankle. "You shouldn't be out here alone, Dar."

"I'm fine-"

"Oh, I know. You're fine. You're good. You're peachy." Soda sighs, drops his chin back down to Darry's shoulder. "You thinkin' about them?"

'N he is. But not really. He's thinkin' about all of them. About breakin' promises 'n not bein' careful enough. About turnin' around one day 'n Pony's not six years old 'n followin' Darry around 'cause he was still young enough to think Darry was the coolest person alive. That Soda's not ten years old 'n missin' his front tooth 'n a permanent bandaid on his knees 'n bringin' home one kid after another until their house was always full. That Johnny 'n Two 'n Dallas 'n Steve ain't just his brother's friends or strangers hangin' around his living room or even just good buddies.

"I'm thinkin' about my resolution." He pulls Soda in closer 'n somewhere down the street someone bangs pans together. A lone firework bangs off into the sky, lightin' his brother's face in a way that makes him look like he was a kid again, pressed against the window 'n tryin' so hard to stay awake.

"Well, don't leave me hangin'." Soda yawns, presses his face into Darry's chest to shield it from the wind.

Darry smiles softly to himself, runs a hand through Soda's hair, the lamp light bouncin' off the watch face when he lifts his wrist.

"I'm gonna keep some old promises."

I ain't gonna let time slip me by. The back door bangs open 'n when Darry turns he can see the shinin' grin on Two's face, his arm draped around Steve's shoulders. Pony leanin' hard on Dallas though Darry knows he'll claim he ain't tired. Johnny shiverin' in his too-big jacket.

"Come on, Dar! You're gonna miss it!" 'N Darry knows he means the ball drop or the announcer on TV or the end of the special but Darry can only smile ruefully, shift Soda closer to him 'n sweep him right off his feet to carry him inside.

You're right. You gotta be careful or you will. You'll miss it all.

tags 'cause y'all were so sweet in my other post I was like well I simply gotta finish this right now😭@trekkiehood @strxwberry-julius @marmaladedcroissant @wildestdreamcatcher @sarcasticallyexplicit11 @scalls @greasernamedbug

[damthosefandoms]

“Issat it?" Soda stands on his tiptoes to look over Darry's shoulder at the card in his hand. "It's real? A real driver's license?"

"Why wouldn't it be real?" Darry says, although he knows Soda's probably thinking about Two-Bit's fake ID he's been showing off lately... as if anyone would fall for it. Keith's fourteen. Darry's fairly certain he isn't even shaving yet.

Soda's moved on, anyway.

"You can drive us down the Ribbon now! We can pick up girls!” Soda cries out excitedly.  He tries jumping on Darry’s back and Darry shrugs out of the way, shaking his brother off so Soda tumbles back to his feet.

“Girls, huh? What kinda girls you pickin’ up over at the middle school, Sodapop?” Darry jeers, but as usual the chatterbox has an answer for everything.

“Cute ones,” Soda drawls, grinning ear to ear. “Blondes, even.”

“Who’re you, Two-Bit? You ain’t picking up no blondes. ‘Sides, why should I cruise around with you, shortstack? I got friends my own age for that.”

“What, like Paul? You always hang with Paul. More’n any girls, even. How come’s that, Dare? You got the hots for him or somethin’?" The kid has the guts to smirk. "Paul's blond.”

Darry instinctively swings at Soda. He ducks and Darry pulls him into a loose headlock.

“I ain’t got the hots for no one, kid, you shut your damn mouth ‘fore I shut it for ya—”

Soda elbows him in the gut and uses the opportunity to run for his life, cackling like a maniac. Darry’s left standing there, heart racing, but for some reason he's pretty sure it’s not from the thrill of messing around with his little brother.

[two-wrenches]

Sleight of Hand by twowrenches

FINISHED WORK (33,000 words)

Release 1/9 (6270 words)

chapters 1-5: Preface, #Amangela, The Sweater Pt. 1, Hooked, Over (And Out)

“No offense. But you’re like. The picture of ‘straight woman’,” she laughed. “Married, house in the suburbs. Only thing missing is a couple kids, a dog, maybe a pool.”

Amanda and Angela share a few interesting nights together. Suspicion rises in Amanda’s husband. Angela has something she needs to say.

Angela Giarratana/Amanda Lehan-Canto

Non-linear storytelling, cheating/adultery, slightly unreliable narrator, Amanda’s husband is written here, lots of foreshadowing, smut but not the kind you want, hang in there

[diesmercurii]

I miss sensei garmadon

[aussie-bookworm]

Going Through The Motions: Bonus Bits

Hi all! I'll keep this quick but we recently hit 4k hits on Going Through The Motions! I can't believe it! Thank you all for reading my silly little fic.

As thanks, I went through my cut content document and polished up these missing scenes from Chapter Four: Help. I originally wrote full scenes of Scout asking each merc for help but decided it was going to make an already long chapter too long and it was a bit repetitive so I cut it down to the basics.

These scenes take place between Scout asking Engie for help and asking Spy for help. Thank you to the lovely @gingerale13 for proofreading! Enjoy!

Demo finished his list of names on the blackboard and put a cross next to Engie’s name.

“Alright, next up is…”

***

“Heavy?” Scout asked, knocking on the man’s door. “Can we come in? I need your help.”

“Da. Just cleaning Sasha. Door is unlocked. Do not touch gun.”

Scout hesitantly opened the door to see Heavy sitting on the floor of his room, surrounded by gun parts, focused on cleaning the barrel. 

Scout shot a nervous look at Demo who nodded. 

Honestly, Scout doubted Heavy would be able to help him, but he had to make his way through the list.

“What is problem?” Heavy asked, not looking up from his task.

Scout slowly sat down, cross-legged across from him, making an effort not to touch Sasha.

How would he even explain this? Scout knew that with Heavy, you had to be blunt.

“I need your help. I’m stuck living in a loop of the same day.”

Heavy merely raised an eyebrow and continued cleaning.

“So you come to me for joke?”

Scout blinked, leaning away from Heavy.

“What? No! Nonono! Heavy it ain’t a joke! I'm actually in a time loop! Tell him Demo!”

Demo sat down next to Scout with a sigh.

“It’s all true, Heavy. Swear on my mum’s life.”

Heavy hummed to himself, as he gently placed the barrel down and started cleaning the rotor. 

“And you come to me because you have no other options.”

It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

“How did you…?”

“Little Scout would not willingly come to me for help with magic problem unless no options are available. So you come to Heavy.”

Scout bit his lip with a frown as he looked away.

Heavy was smarter than Scout gave him credit for. The team always saw him as a big gun-obsessed Russian. Maybe there was more to him than Scout originally thought.

“Yeah, but–”

“Heavy,” Demo interrupted, holding a hand out in front of Scout to shut him up. “Have you noticed anything off with Scout during the last couple of days or weeks? Or just… anything noteworthy that could change things?”

Heavy was silent as he slowly started reassembling his gun.

“Cannot think of anything. Little Scout is little Scout as always,” he eventually commented. “I have suggestions but do not think little Scout would listen.”

“Suggestions?” Scout’s ears perked up. “What do you have for me, big guy?”

Heavy sighed as he continued to skillfully put Sasha back together.

“Understand that team is looking out for little Scout and is not babying him. Understanding others’s motives is good thing for strong team, da?”

Scout sighed.

“Yeah, I know,” he responded dejectedly. “Been through enough loops of you telling me that to get it through my thick skull.”

Heavy was unperturbed.

“Team is only as strong as weakest link. When one succeeds, all succeed.”

That made sense, Scout guessed. No ‘i’ in team and all that. 

But Scout already knew this from his baseball days! How was this supposed to help?!

“Anythin’ else?”

Heavy was silent again as he finished up his assembly. Sasha stood proud in front of Scout, ready for action.

As Scout stared at the gun, Heavy finally turned his gaze over to Scout and assessed him.

“Teamwork requires communication. Speak to Sniper.”

“What?!” 

“You have been avoiding Sniper. I have seen it. Speak to Sniper.”

Scout spluttered, trying to come up with a response.

“He’s right lad,” Demo spoke up. “Even I have noticed you’re avoiding him and I’m drunk half the time!”

Was that why Engie had suggested it yesterday? Had he also noticed and decided not to be as blunt as Heavy?

No! He couldn’t risk it! He barely got through that awkward conversation when he tried to give Sniper a compliment! Why would he decide to do that again?!

“I… I’ll do it, tomorrow,” Scout lied.

Heavy nodded.

“Very good. Is there anything else Heavy can do to help?”

“Don’t think so. Thanks, big guy.”

Heavy smiled and nodded. He stood up and picked up Sasha. Scout took that as his cue to leave. 

Quietly, Scout stood up and Demo went to follow. He opened the door as Demo slipped through.

Scout threw a look over his shoulder to see Heavy starting to clean his supplies, before shutting the door behind him.

Scout turned to see Demo looking at him. Silently, they both turned and started to walk down the hallway.

“So, tomorrow you’ll talk to Sniper, right?” Demo asked, breaking the silence.

Scout quickly wiped the scowl off his face before Demo could notice.

“Yep!” Scout lied.

***

“So we’ve talked to Engie and Heavy? We’re making good time,” Demo commented.

“I guess,” Scout responded. “So who’s next?”

***

“Hey Medic, got a minute?”

Medic’s head snapped up from the corpse he was experimenting on and looked at Scout as he and Demo pushed the doors to the infirmary open.

“Herr Scout, you know where the plasters are. You do not need my help to put one on.”

“No, it’s not that.”

Medic sighed. 

“What is it then? Herr Demo might need my help and you are wasting my valuable time.”

Demo shook his head.

“No doc, I’m fine,” he responded. “Scout needs your help, though.”

“Verdammt. What is it?”

Demo gave Scout an encouraging nod as Medic continued to operate on the corpse. Scout let out a nervous breath.

Of course, he was nervous about this! He knew what Medic did last time Scout told him about the loop!

“I need you to promise me you won’t try to give me meds this time, okay?”

“…This time?”

“Just promise, okay?”

Medic shot Scout a confused look but slowly nodded.

“Ja, okay, I promise.”

Scout sighed. 

Good enough, he guessed.

“I’m in a time loop,” Scout blurted out. “If you can help me that’d be great. Have you noticed anything off with me in the last couple of days?” 

Medic blinked, processing the stream of speech that was directed at him. 

His scalpel slipped out of his hand and into the corpse’s rib cage as he turned his head to look at Demo who had a serious expression on his face. Medic turned back to Scout.

“O…kay?” Medic eventually answered, picking up the scalpel. “Am I to understand you have been experiencing the same day on repeat?”

Scout nodded.

“Yeah. Demo suggested I talk to everyone and see if they can help.”

“Really, we just want to see if there’s something Scout can change that I haven’t already noticed,” Demo helpfully added.

Medic looked up at Demo through his eyelashes.

“And what have you noticed, Herr Demo?”

Demo said nothing, staring at the doctor. Medic frowned and tilted his head. 

As the two seemingly had a silent conversation among themselves, only nodding and pulling faces, Scout bit his lip.

“Uh… I can go if you want,” Scout spoke up.

“No need, Herr Scout,” Medic replied with a bloody wave. “I was just making sure Herr Demo and I are on the same page.”

“Okay then. Can you help me? You’re smart – surely you can think of something!”

Medic put a hand to his chin in thought.

“Unfortunately, I can’t think of anything major that could break this loop you speak of,” he mused as he placed the scalpel he was using down and reached towards Scout. “Unless you let me look at your brain and the observable effects under the loop–”

“Nuh-uh! No way!” Scout interrupted, slapping one of Medic’s hands away. “Besides, you wouldn’t even fuckin’ remember it!”

“Ja, but how often do I get to observe the synapses of a brain undergoing extreme stress and magic? Oh! I wonder if brain activity would remain the same as the previous loop! Or would it change as you are experiencing a different flow of time?”

“You’re scarin’ the lad, doc,” Demo piped up.

Medic laughed as Scout staggered backwards.

“Just imagine…” Medic said to himself.

Scout frowned slightly. He wasn’t going to get much more out of Medic which was somehow both a blessing and a curse.

“I… I’m gonna go. If you can think of anything that can get me out, let me know before midnight.”

That conversation seemed pretty quick and painless. Scout wondered if the conversations with the rest of the team would be the same.

As Scout turned to leave, Medic perked up. 

“Ah, Herr Scout?” Medic spoke up.

Goddamn it.

Scout silently begged for this conversation not to go where he thought it was going to go.

“Yeah?”

“Have you spoken to Herr Sniper about this?”

Fuck.

What was everyone's obsession with him speaking with Sniper?! Scout avoiding Sniper wasn’t that bad, was it? 

“Oh um… he’s later down on our list. I-I’ll talk to him then.”

Medic nodded approvingly

“Good, good. I recommend you speak to him earlier. He might have seen something similar to this during his career.”

Scout frowned.

“Why don’t I speak to Spy then? He’s way older and has probably seen more shit.”

“The man is… Scheiße, what’s the word in English?”

“A prick?” Scout suggested.

“Secretive,” Demo offered.

“Ja! Secretive! He does not like to share details of his past. Although…”

Demo cleared his throat.

“One problem at a time, doc,” Demo interrupted. 

“But it might–”

“Doc, not our place to say, remember?”

Scout blinked.

“Are youse hiding something from me?”

Demo and Medic made an obvious effort to look away from Scout, who was starting to feel very left out.

“Okay… You don’t gotta tell me anything. Just figured it might help break this loop quicker,” Scout muttered.

Demo sighed.

“Sorry lad. If we told you, he’d probably kill us.”

What?

“Even if you won’t remember tomorrow?”

“Herr Scout, drop it,” Medic snapped.

Scout recoiled and stared at the two men.

“Alright, alright! I’ll go! I’ll leave you two to your secrets, assholes.”

With a scoff, Scout sulked off to his room. 

Quietly Demo shook his head at Medic.

“Plan B,” he whispered.

“Ah, I see. Good luck getting him to speak to Herr Sniper. He’s stubborn as a mule.”

Demo groaned.

“It’s gotta happen sooner or later. Either way, are we still good for drinks tomorrow?”

“Ja. Heavy found a new bar that’s opened in town that we haven’t been banned from yet!”

***

“This would be more effective if I could remember these previous conversations,” Demo muttered, drawing crosses next to Engie, Heavy and Medic’s names.

“Yeah, well, they’re not very helpful,” Scout said, trying to decipher the names on the blackboard. “Are you sure about this one?”

“Well, who do you go to for a fantastical scenario? That’s right, you go to…”

***

“Pyro! Hey buddy, are you free right now?”

“Mmph! Mm-Mmph! Mm!”

Scout and Demo walked inside and sat down at Pyro’s tea party table.

Now, this conversation should be nice and quick, right?

“Pyro, I need some help from you.”

“Mph mm?”

“Yeah. You see, Merasmus cursed me to live the same day over and over again.”

“Mm-mmph!”

“I know, buddy. He said that I can only break it when I make a huge change to myself, but I don’t know what else to change. Have you noticed anything I need to change?”

Pyro was silent before they jumped up from their seat and ran over to their bed where Balloonicorn was resting. 

They thrust Balloonicorn into Scout’s arms for a hug, bouncing slightly. 

Honestly, Scout couldn’t say no to Pyro. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around the plush toy and squeezed. Demo snorted from next to him.

“Does Balloonicorn know how to break the curse?” Scout hesitantly asked from his hug. 

Pyro shook their head.

“Mph mmphmm mph mph mmph mmphmm!”

“He wanted me to feel better?”

Pyro nodded.

“But you and Balloonicorn don’t know what else I could change?”

Pyro deflated slightly and shook their head. 

“Mmph.”

“No, it’s okay. We haven’t had much luck with the others either.”

Pyro looked away and started tapping their foot.

“Mmph mph mmph mmphmph?”

Not this again.

“What’d they say, lad?” Demo asked.

Was this coordinated?! How much did the team talk about Scout and Sniper behind their backs?

“They asked if I had spoken to Sniper yet. We’re doin’ that tomorrow.”

Pyro cheered and clapped their hands before going in to give Scout a bone-crushing hug. Scout gave a small smile and pat Pyro on the back. 

As he turned to walk back into the hallway, Scout’s smile slipped off his face and was replaced with a scowl.

He was running out of time and excuses.

***

“Okay, so we’ve talked to Engie, Heavy, Medic and Pyro. Now we’re onto the S’s. Are you ready to speak to…”

“Actually Demo? I fucked up. We spoke to Sniper yesterday. I just forgot to tell you,” Scout lied.

He didn’t want to risk anything. 

The way things currently were with Sniper was fine, Scout told himself.

He didn’t want to scare Sniper away thanks to some dumb feelings he had.

“…Why did you…?”

“I just forgot,” Scout responded. “All these talks with everyone are kinda blending into one. Sniper didn’t know shit and it was so similar to our convo with Heavy that I kinda just… forgot one. Sorry.”

Demo was silent, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Sniper didn’t say anything helpful?”

“Nah. It sucks but he didn’t know anything to help.”

One little white lie couldn’t hurt, right? 

Demo sighed and turned back to the blackboard, drawing a cross next to Sniper’s name. He muttered something under his breath Scout didn’t catch.

“Alright then. Today we’ll be speaking to…”

***

“Soldier?” Scout called, knocking on the door

“Atten…tion!”

Demo leaned into Scout space.

“…Do we salute or…?” Demo asked.

Scout shrugged as he knocked again.

“Solly, can we come in? I need your help.”

“Affirmative, Private Second-Class! You may enter!”

Scout pushed the door open to reveal Soldier doing push-ups in the centre of the room. 

Scout blinked at the sight in front of him. Did the guy ever rest?!

“At ease, Soldiers!” Soldier ordered, getting to his feet. “You requested aid?!”

Scout shot a hesitant look at Demo before turning back to Soldier.

“Uh… yeah, I did, Solly. I need your help. I’m stuck in a time loop and can’t get out. Is there anything you think I need to change about myself that could break the loop?”

Solider hummed as he put a finger to his chin and tapped his foot.

“Have you spoken to Merasmus about this?”

“Affirmativ- I mean, yeah, but he wasn’t able to crack it! He suggested I find something I needed to change, but I can’t find anything else! I’ve won so many matches, I’ve been to your boot camp so many times, I don’t fuckin’ know what else to do!”

Soldier frowned.

“Then, I have got nothing to offer.”

Scout deflated. He was starting to get sick and tired of this song and dance.

“Alright, thanks, Solly.”

As they turned to leave, Scout could see out of the corner of his eye, Soldier perk up.

“Private second class!” 

Oh no. If this was about–

“Have you informed the Sniper?”

Scout blinked, saying nothing, and just glaring at the corner of the room.

“P-private second class?” Soldier asked, sounding hesitant for the first time since Scout had met him.

Scout ignored him, robotically turning and leaving without saying a word, leaving both Soldier and Demo dumbfounded.

“What is wrong with Private second-class?” Soldier turned to Demo.

Demo sighed.

“Janey, he’s been doing this for fifty-nine days. All things considered, I’m surprised he hasn’t plumb given up.”

“Hm… His determination is admirable! When he fixes this, I think I will give him a rank-up! And a medal!”

“You do that, Janey.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

me looking at suguru’s tattoos going this, too, is a subtle sign of masochism —

[trashydez]

ive been at drowning level deep in the krisnix rabbithole and i cant decide whether the idea of phoenix being the closest thing a psychopath could come to feeling love is better than the idea that despite everything, kristoph really did love him, and phoenix would have to feel his heart shatter for the man who destroyed and kept him on a leash for nearly a decade.

[florencebirdsong]

I LOVE writing agathario but the way their foreplay leads into a tug-a-war of reader means I could make these one shots last forever. Send fucking help my fingers hurt

[solivagantingrebel]

The commenting situation in this fandom is really fucking atrocious, huh.

[tragicotps]

Young Masriel au [Part 2: getting to know you]: in which Asriel follows Marisa outside to escape a boring party, mainly consisting of old men talking about politics. Having captured his attention with her knowledge of experimental theology, and not immune to her beauty either, he's determined to talk to her alone to find out more about this mysterious girl and her peculiar daemon. He foolishly counts on his boyish charm to convince her to get drunk with him, but it doesn't exactly go as planned. [part 1]

[compress1repress]

*gulps*

[the-ace-with-spades]

An AU where Jake didn't go to USNA but got a scholarship for football at the same uni Bradley got a scholarship for baseball.

They're both part of NROTC but Bradley is a second-year midshipman and he's one of the very few midshipmen who are not mentoring anyone in the program dunno how nrotc works I'm guessing similar to our military youth programs, bear with me

He's instantly intrigued — Bradley seems to be the most unavailable person in the whole program, never really engaging for after-training outings or parties, never making small talk and never trying to even make connections that would help with networking once they were commissioned.

So Jake kind of observes from afar for the first few months and he realizes Bradley is exactly the same outside of NROTC too.

Despite the lack of engagement, every single instructor and coordinator from the program seems to know him. More so, most of them don't even comment on his lack of extracurricular engagement or mentorship, but even send him off for extra trainings that are typically only awarded for being exceptional.

They live in the same student building but on different floors. Bradley is an RA for his floor and the female-only floor above, something Jake only discovers when his own RA is kicked out and his heating problem is delegated to Bradley.

Bradley is also a TA (which is very unusual for a sophomore) for one of the physics professors — Jake is studying mechanical engineering and Bradley is doing aerospace engineering and he sometimes sees Bradley assisting, even if it's mostly for different majors.

Jake's fascination grows even more because he doesn't get it — Bradley is unavailable to anyone but he's also so nice. Most of the students in the dorm he's coordinating like him, which is not really something that happens with RAs, he's respected both by the midshipmen and their instructors and seniors, many of which keep on friendly jabs with him or extend invitations to outings despite Bradley's repeated refusals. He is incredibly nice to the actual few students who come for help from him as a TA, from what Jake heard, and he's got a good few girls crushing on him, some of which are pretty popular in the uni circles.

Despite that, he doesn't seem to have any friends. Jake doesn't see him at parties, or going outs, or study groups, or even of some midshipmen-organized extra trainings. It's like he's keeping everyone at arm's length.

Finally, he has an occasion to start something with Bradley when he goes downstairs to the mail room. Technically sorting the mail and putting it in the right boxes outside of the mail room is the porter's room but the porter seems to be there maybe four hours a week so usually they just break into the room and look for their own shit in the mess.

He goes downstairs and Bradley is sitting on the floor with a list of the students in the building and a stamp with red RETURN TO SENDER, sorting through piles and piles of mail.

"I didn't think it was part of your job."

"It's not," Bradley answers. "Someone has to do it, might as well be me. Seresin, right?"

Jake doesn't squeal but oh god, Bradley knows his name. "Yeah."

"Your parcel is in the ready pile," he says, pointing his thumb parcels near the door.

"You want some help?"

"You've got nothing better to do on a Friday night?"

He could've asked the same question. "I have three assignments I need to procrastinate on."

Bradley gives him a long look but finally says, "Fair enough."

They stay in silence and Jake doesn't know how to start a conversation. Bradley seems focused and aloof and just, once again, so unavailable.

The opportunity arises when he is going over the stack of parcels in the corner of the mail room.

"Your name is Bradshaw, right?"

"Yeah."

"Those are for you."

"They're not."

"I mean, there's no room number but it does say Bradley Bradshaw."

Bradley is quiet for a minute but gets up from where he's been sitting on the floor and slowly walks to stand next to where the boxes are stacked on itself.

Without hesitation, he stamps both of them with RETURN TO SENDER.

"You aren't even going to check what's inside?"

He gets quiet again, looking at the stamp on top of the parcel far longer than needed, before he says, "I don't have any family left, whoever sent it isn't anyone I'd like to get anything from."

Jake bites down apologies — Bradley doesn't seem to be the type to need pity.

"It can't be returned to the post," Jake points out. "No return address."

Bradley sighs and takes out a pen from his pocket, leaning over the boxes.

He doesn't mean to snoop but he catches Bradley writing P.Mitchell & T.Kazansky in the addressee line and San Diego a couple lines lower. So obviously Bradley knew who it was from.

Some things change after that evening — Bradley answers his hi when they see each other at training or waves back when Jake sees him in the lecture hall or brings his mail straight to Jake's room and chats with him for a few minutes at his door.

But most things don't change — he still refuses to join any going outs, even if it's Jake asking him, still doesn't talk much to anyone, still refuses simple invitations to grab lunch together in the cafeteria or go to a movie later that week. Still seems to be using a Don't have time or If you don't need me, I'm going as frequent excuses. Still seems to be entirely unavailable to anyone who wants to catch him outside of his strictly obligatory settings.

He's talking about this with his mom, using the phone booth outside of their dorms, because he's never had trouble making friends with anyone (even if he admits he could make more than friends, with Bradley, eventually, maybe, wishful thinking aside) and his mom tells him, "He sounds really busy, baby, he probably doesn't have time for friends."

"How can you have no time for friends? It's college."

"Jakey, he isn't like you, he doesn't have any support from his family, he's probably struggling to stay afloat with the scholarships requirements and the college job and studying and military training on top of it."

"So what? There's no way to—be friends with him?"

"I think you'll have to fit into the free time in his schedule, baby. because that's the only kind he has."

It takes some time but he does realize that Bradley's time is truly limited. His days are packed tight, on top of what Jake already knew — the TA job, the RA job, the baseball scholarship and the NROTC training — he also works in the local garage one day a week. He literally has a few hours he can actually spend with someone during the day and Jake slowly tries to use them up.

Brings him coffee for the early morning walk-in tutoring he hosts at college, eats lunch with him when they have a training break, even as Bradley does his assigned reading and only half-pays attention to him, comes downstairs to the mail room every evening Bradley sorts through it, brings him cupcakes from the cafeteria on the lunch break between lectures, even though Bradley spends it alone in the professor's office, making lesson plans or marking papers. Visits him in the garage he works at and keeps on constant chatter as Bradley gets covered in black oil and stinks like fuel.

Slowly, he can see Bradley smiling when he sees Jake. Can see Bradley sharing his homemade divine lasagna and chicken soup made from scratch with Jake. Can see Bradley joining him in the gym, not just staying on the outside of the group. Can see Bradley chatting back as he continues to do what he's doing, no longer just letting Jake run his mouth.

There's a bit of a hiccup when Jake offers Bradley to join him on Christmas break in Texas — tells him they can drive if Bradley doesn't want to pay for plane tickets they can make a road trip of the thing and all. Only another call to his mom makes him aware that Bradley probably can't afford either and, as his mom doesn't hold back and points out Bradley won't react well if he offers to pay for it.

So instead, Jake stays for most of the Christmas break in the halls. Apparently, Bradley is organizing a small Chrismas dinner for anyone from the halls who is staying over (a total of seven people), so things get a bit busy — the spare time Bradley has is, well, spare. When he finally has the time, he is working in the garage or finishing his assignments — Jake sometimes forgets, with all the things Bradley does to stay afloat, that he's actually still a student — so he mostly trails behind him and chatters when he thinks it won't annoy Bradley too much.

Bradley offers to drive him to the airport. It's the first time he's offered to take a good chunk of his time and make it free by rescheduling things, just for Jake.

He even parks at the airport and walks him all the way to the security check line, not just leaves Jake in the drop-and-go area.

Jake gives him a small Christmas gift — a key chain with A4 Skyhawk he bought when he visited the aviation museum in Horsham with some of the other midshipmen. They both want to go into the aviation pipeline once graduated so it seems like something Bradley could like, even if it's a bit silly.

He wasn't sure, if Bradley would actually take it — he's been reluctant to take many things, every single lunch or coffee Jake got him had to be either repaid or covered by Bradley the next day.

But Bradley hugs him. Puts the key chain on his car keys ring.

When Jake comes back, he's expecting progress because, you know, Bradley's been warming up to him. Instead, Bradley seems to be dead on his feet, getting annoyed quicker than usually, going as far as telling Jake to 'keep quiet for a goddamn minute'. It all kind of becomes clear when he is car pooling with the guys for the NORTC training and sees Bradley, honest to god jogging the three miles from the halls to the training site, military backpack with his uniform and gear towering over his shoulder — it's five in the morning.

"You doing a new training regime or something? Running everywhere instead of driving like a normal human being?"

He doesn't look at Jake as he says, "The Bronco broke down."

"I mean, that car is older than you," Jake points out, trying to tiptoe around the issue and get Bradley to admit what the exact problem is — he never does, if you ask directly, Jake knows by now. It's like asking for help isn't in his nature.

"It's not safe to drive," he explains. "I can't brake in time anymore, the brakes are about to give out completely."

"Can't you fix it?"

"I need a new drum brake master cylinder," he says. When Jake stares at him, he adds, "It's gonna cost around two hundred bucks, which I don't have."

"I could lend you the money," he offers.

"I don't want your money," Bradley says, just like he thought he'd — taking any offered help from anyone isn't in his nature either.

So Jake tries to work around it — asks his dad and his uncles if there's anyone they know who could maybe give him the right master cylinder for free or at a very discounted price. When they finally find a guy who has a collection of spare parts for the early Broncos but no Broncos anymore and is willing to send the cylinder as long as someone pays for the postage, he writes down his number and promises his friend Bradley is going to call soon about that.

And thank the fucking god, Bradley accepts this kind of backhanded help.

Bradley fixes the Bronco on the hall's parking lot. He jogs from the garage with a borrowed jack lift strapped to his back, pops the car on it and the other one he already has in the trunk so the wheels are up, pops the tires off and pops the front mask up and gets his white tank and plaid shirt covered in grime. It's already dark by the time he takes the jacks away and sits behind the wheel.

Jake's spent the whole time uselessly chattering to him as he always does — he has absolutely no idea about cars — but he lets himself be waved into the passenger seat.

Bradley drives out of the parking lot, down the empty road to the campus and brakes so hard Jake has to hold himself up against the dashboard.

"Better than new," Bradley says and Jake's never seen him grinding as widely and as honestly as he is now.

He is sweaty and covered in oil and stinking a bit, but his curls are flopping on his forehead and the ratty mustache he's been growing lately is out of order and he's looking at Jake with those big brown cow eyes — he just can't not kiss him.

So he leans over the console and kisses the smile on his face.

The leap of faith pays of because Bradley keeps on kissing him — he pulls the hand brake on and lets both his hands settle on Jake's waist and things continue until Jake is being guided onto the backseat over the console and being kisses again and again, and Bradley's hands go lower and lower.

They get each other off and then go back to the halls. They don't talk about it but now any time they're alone — in the lecture hall, in the mail room, in Jake's or Bradley's room — he can just lean in and kiss him as much as he wants to and still get the brightest of smiles as a reward.

They're back in the mail room and maybe Jake's just spent twenty minutes trying to crawl up Bradley's lap (to no avail) when he notices — Bradley got another package, this time PLEASE AT LEAST LOOK THROUGH THE THINGS BEFORE SENDING IT BACK written in bold marker on top.

Bradley curtly tells him to just stamp it with RETURN TO SENDER. But he can't help himself — he gets his keys out and cuts through the tape on top, opening the giant box.

"Jake—"

He takes out the first thing that's on top of the pile inside — a stuffed goose the size of over half of Jake's torso. It's a bit grayed up and smells like dust but it's also so cute.

"That yours?"

Bradley gets up from where he's sitting so quick — a second and he's next to Jake, taking the plushie out of his hands. "Ducky—"

"Ducky? That's a goose, isn't it?"

Bradley is honest to god red in the face but doesn't let go of the goose, bringing it closer to his chest and it's freaking adorable. "I was two, I couldn't tell the difference."

"So," Jake says, feeling like he's defusing a bomb. "You still wanna send it back?"

"I—I don't know."

"Maybe—Maybe I could help with that," he offers. "If I know the details, or at least some of them."

It takes him a minute but when Bradley finally starts talking, everything just spills out of him. He tells Jake about his dad, and about his mom, and then about his other dad and pops. He doesn't get too into details but they come around back to his last year in high school and how his dad pilled his papers and they haven't talked since Bradley found out and left the house with a bag and his car and nothing else.

Jake says, "That's just stupid."

The second it leaves his mouth, he knows he's said the wrong thing even if it was honest — he can see in real-time as Bradley rolls back into himself, closing off in less than a minute and suddenly there's so much distance between them.

He angrily writes down the same P.Mitchell & T.Kazansky and San Diego address on top and chucks the goose plushie back inside.

"I guess I'm stupid then," he says quietly and a blink and he's out of the mail room. He's not answering when Jake knocks on his room door.

Jake doesn't have the heart to actually let that package go back to P.Mitchell & T.Kazansky, or Bradley's dad and pops. So he brings it into his room upstairs.

He doesn't mean to go over the things inside, not too much, but he thought he could at least grab the goose — Ducky — and give it a wash. When he reaches inside, there's a goddamn plushie of a Spitfire in there, its tag saying RAF Museum, London, and Jake can't help looking for more.

There are photos and polaroids, three people commonly on all of them with a baby Bradley. Old Hawaiian shirts, a leather jacket, knots of seashell jewelry, a few rolled-up posters, a whole notebook with handwritten recipes, birthday cards.

He doesn't look any further but instead takes the return address from the box and writes up a postcard to P.Mitchell & T. Kazansky saying he'll force Bradley to keep it all.

Problem is, Bradley isn't talking to him, no matter how hard he tries. He thought he'd be like that for a few weeks at the most and then forget but he's worse than he was before he and Jake met in the mail room for the first time — doesn't even say a word to him when Jake tries to start a conversation, he's gone so far as to change his complicated schedule completely so Jake can't see him outside of NROTC and his TA role.

He calls his mom again.

"Jakey, honey," his mom says, with a tone that suggests he's an idiot. "That boy bared his soul to you and you said his feelings were stupid."

[imavikingo]

[mejaemin]

mahae snippet for my @chenlezip !!!

he crawls back onto the bed, kneeling right in front of you. he’s about to take his boxers off, and you’re so close to seeing what you’ve been thinking about for ages when mark puts his hand out.

“ah ah ah, hyuck, slow down.” he starts, and you can’t tell if the younger is serious when he starts pouting. “did i say you could fuck her yet? did you even ask her? don’t be so greedy.”

hehehe i LOVE markhyuck’s dynamic in this >< markie bossing hyuck around… SIGN ME UP

edit: the fic is gonna be titled city girl btw… i’ll be calling it that from now on

[crescentfool]

What are your ryomina headcanons? I've loved these two since I played P3 FES, and I'm so excited to get back into the fandom^^

hi!! thank you so much for the ask, welcome back to the p3 fandom, it's always a delight to see new and old ryomina fans alike! 🥺💛💙

as for headcanons, here's a "few" i that i tend to come back to a lot! my interpretations of them are influenced from both the source material and other's fanworks, so i've linked to them as i saw fit! hcs in no particular order under the cut because oops this got long (900 word bullet point list, mentions of reload content up to 1/1)

minato's hair is dyed blue (hair originally brown, you can see it in his roots!) and he has a beauty mark on under his left eye. i like mirror imagery and there's definitely a few arts i've rb'd that portray them this way :) (e.g. this one by feliichu and this one by marasschino)

as far as i'm concerned the bathhouse scene from the manga where ryoji's hair down = similar shape to minato? that is canon to me. this art from xierru is a fun depiction of hair down ryoji :D

ryoji is homeless. everyone say thank you foxmulder_whereartthou for this awesome fic it's why i have the headcanon! but like seriously. we have no idea where ryoji lives and i could believe this.

minato dying at the end of the game is sad to an outsider's POV BUT!!! ryomina gets to be together in death for the rest of their lives (this illustration from mafuwara is a gorgeous representation of them as nyx avatar + the seal)!

speaking of the seal, they are like telepathically communicating to me in the great seal together. (mymp3 had a comic wip with this. give it a looksie :D)

ryoji likes cuddling with minato because he's warm :) (something something orpheus has fire affinity, minato is warm by extension and ryoji is cold because he's death)

ryoji's camera roll is filled with pictures of minato! ryoji... loves life, to me. and i feel that photography and journaling are perfect ways of expressing gratitude and capturing the moments in life that are most important to you :3

my other favorite activity for these two is stargazing- i feel like it's something they could appreciate either in life or death (looking at the stars from the great seal...)! they do a bit of this in the fic eurydice's vow by crescentmoontea (P5R spoilers, takes place in third sem it's a very fun fic concept).

between ryoji and minato i feel like ryoji was the one who fell in love first- and it doesn't really click in place for minato that he loves ryoji until december hits (appriser reveal + ryoji transforming into thanatos). its about the realization that ryoji was with him for his whole life and that he gets him like no one else does.

ryoji is like a sad and wet puppy who is so scared minato won't like him back. he is so scared of being rejected by minato to me like. this boy straight up deflates after he does his "i know i said i wanted us to be friends, but... i actually want to be something more." / "what about you?" on 12/1 ???

AND SPEAKING of wet puppy ryoji. ryoji is like. every animal in the world to me. he's a bird. he's a cat. etc. and also ryoji knows every language in the world ever and uses it to express his love for minato. see this fic from superheroics to see what i mean.

both of them are lactose intolerant. "this isn't lactose, it's milk!" i definitely think ryoji would make himself sick eating ice cream and milk he doesn't know what lactose is. (i made a silly poll about this once and the tags were very entertaining.)

i see minato as transmasc or nonbinary depending on the day (schrodinger's headcanons babey they're simultaneously true and not true at the same time!!). either way he's not cis to me and ryoji is like. His Gender. anyway go read this fic by nail_gun for t4t ryomina :D !

ryomina are WEIRD GUYS TO ME!!! they are so strange and they understand each other better than anyone else because of the circumstances of their relationship!!! if you asked them to do the "i wonder what i taste like" meme i think they'd start biting each other (affectionate) tbh but that's just me.

after ryoji gives minato the music box in 12/31 on reload, minato listens to the music box every night in january. this boy has insomnia and also chronic illness to me (things that housing death does to you). but i think he finds comfort in the melody and memories he made with ryoji.

in general, i think it's fun to imagine minato taking ryoji to places and show him things he's interested in! i feel that ryoji takes a lot of interest in minato's life, this isn't really a hc because in reload, minato DOES give ryoji a tour of the school (11/9) and possibly port island (11/12). but ITS CUTE OK! (tangentially related fanwork: this series of doodles from vinnigami: 1, 2, and 3)

not a hc but minato's kindness is like the backbone of their relationship and i think we would not have the ryomina we know and love today if minato wasn't such a kind soul. oh minato.... we can learn so much from you... like ryoji did!

anyway! that's all the hcs that i could think of, thank you for the ask! i had a lot of fun answering this, these two mean a lot to me 💛💙

i hope you don't mind the links to the fanart and fanfic as well, the fanwork people have made for ryomina have really made an imprint on me! if you want to see more of them, i definitely recommend looking through my tag for them because oh. i got a lot of them reblogged alright 😂 (<- SOOO NORMAL)