#mostly ice & lightning

[journey-to-the-attic]

Can I ask what the Pokemon AU was? Trying to imagine it's, all I can think of is Trainer IK and her team of demon bros or Gym Leader demon bros.

... Faint memories of Astaroth are also showing up, but it might just cause I like Astaroth

i'll add the tag below so you can browse it, but it was in the category of "ik gets summoned to the devildom, BUT..." wherein she's a pokemon trainer, and thus her team comes with her

although... the concept of a full pokemon au where the brothers are gym leaders is super cool! i'm not versed in how it works at all, but i think gym leaders usually have a preferred type? in that case levi would definitely be water...

maybe the brothers are all estranged (apart from the twins, who have a partner gym battle thing) and ik just goes through the devildom collecting them as besties, accidentally-on-purpose reconciling them in the process

simeon would make a good nurse joy i think.... that or he (plus solomon and luke) would be her travelling companions! and i guess that'd make diavolo a champion? not sure about barbatos....

(also either the newspaper club or the s4 trio gets to be team rocket)

[lxngfxrgxtten]

(( oh yeah, it's all coming together… ))

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Sleeping On The Job ( OOC. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Thinking Big & Dreaming Bigger ( IC. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Discovering The Truth ( Main Verse. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ A Colorful Array ( Kanto Verse. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Making Headlines & Going Sky High ( Rareita Verse. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ The Lightning Rod Champion! ( Type Swap Verse. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Getting Me Through It All ( Team. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Road Work Ahead? I Sure Hope It Does! ( Crack. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Sleeping In The Shade ( Queue. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Delibird Delivery! ( Asks. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Unknown Faces ( Anons. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Understanding What's Inside ( Musings. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Saving… Don't Turn Off The Power ( Memories. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Scouting Out The Others ( Dash Commentary. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Seeking Out Excitement ( Starter Call. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ A Mirror Smiling Back At Me ( Self Promo. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Future Challengers ( Promo. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Champion Six Is Looking For A Fight! ( Muse Memes. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ A Memory In The Ruins ( Headcanon. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Hey! Quit Pokin' Me! ( Tag Games. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ In The Tall Grass ( Pokemon. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Stargazing ( Likes & Aesthetics. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Saving Me From Myself ( Streli. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ A Champion Who's Seen It All ( Six. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ I'm Beyond Confused By What We Are; But I Don't Want It To Stop ( Streli & Six. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ The Best Chef In Rareita ( Food & Cooking. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ CTRL + Z That Shit ( Mun Art. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Setting Myself Ablaze ( Abilities. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ What Are We Even Doing? ( Dash Games. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Rareita Will Be Mine ( Candle. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Standing In My Shadow ( Five. )

── *₊˚🍹���⸝ As The Clock Hand Spun It Was Long Forgotten ( Rareita. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ How Am I Doing? ( Status Update. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ I'm An ‘Alcohol Enthusiast’ ( Booze. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ I'll Follow Wherever You Go! ( ChiChai. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Lost With The Wind ( Helios. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Faster Than I Care To Remember ( Blazer. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Shining Even In The Dark ( Kaze. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Never Alone ( Crimson. ) 

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Eyes On The Prize ( Striker. )

── *₊˚🍹⸝⸝ Sitting In The Garden Waiting For Her To Come Home ( Redwood. )

[that-house]

Potion Vendor FAQs:

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist Zykocea the Radiant, but that’s mostly just a PR thing. My friends call me Zoe.

Do you sell love potions? No.

Do you sell potions of invisibility? No.

Do you sell fire resistance potions? No.

Why do I have a suitcase? Fuck if I know. Cool outfit though. Very goth.

Do you sell a potion to treat brain hemorrhaging? No.

So what CAN your potions do? I sell health potions.

Are you sure these are health potions? They do something to your health.

Is this just ditch water with some pink glitter? No.

Really? I’ll have you know I added some fruit juice too.

Why is this starting to sound like a conversation? Oh just you wait. We’re just getting started.

Is your business model legal? Fuck no. I poisoned the food safety inspector before they could snitch.

Did you just admit to murder? Just fucking try to convict me. I’ll poison the judge too.

So can you make poison potions? No.

Then where do you get the poison? I secrete it from my skin.

Are you shitting me? Yep, I’m shitting you. I have a guy. A poison guy. He DOES secrete it from his skin though.

How does that work? …Fuck if I know. Maybe a wizard did it. Damn, now I’m kinda curious.

You never asked? The idea of asking literally never crossed my mind.

Wanna ask him? Let’s do it. I don’t have anything better to do, and a road trip beats sitting around running my fraudulent potion business.

Road trip? He lives in Seattle.

Your poison guy lives in Seattle? All poison guys live in Seattle.

For real? All the poison guys I know live in Seattle.

And how many poison guys do you know? Just the one.

Why are you like this? Years of living on my potions. It changed me.

Do you know what his address is? Nope. He just mails me my poison in unmarked boxes.

You just get your poison in the mail? We already poisoned everyone who could do anything about it.

So how are we going to find him? We’ll figure that out eventually I’m sure.

Can I drive? God no. You can pick music, but I maintain veto rights. Make sure you pick something with a lot of questions if you want to sing along.

Where’s your car? The garage connects to my house, so you’re getting a little tour. Here’s the kitchen: only one of the stove burners works and I’m pretty sure the microwave is haunted.

Why do you think that? Because of the ghost that tries to kill me whenever I run it.

What’s in that room? That’s my bedroom. It’s pretty much just a mattress on the floor and every single Warrior cats book.

You were a Warriors kid? Yeah, and then I never found the time to put the books away. There’s so many fucking books. I use them in place of furniture because I can’t afford chairs.

Your fraudulent potion business doesn’t make much money? After buying all that poison I just about break even.

Can I see your potion brewing room? It’s right through here. Ignore the mess, running a fraudulent potion business takes a lot of prop work, but I’ve got all the glass tubes and colorful liquids you could ever want. This pink stuff is melted watermelon italian ice. Glitter vat is in the basement, and the famous ditch is in the backyard.

Is this your car? My beloved ‘72 Corolla. She’s beautiful, and don’t you dare imply otherwise.

Was she always this shade of muddy brown? …Yes.

Are you sure I can’t drive? Get in the fucking passenger seat and pick the music.

Let’s see, a song with questions in it, how about The Beach? That Wolf Alice song, yeah. That should work.

When will we three meet again, in thunder, lightning, in rain? Still sink our drinks like every weekend but I’m sick of circling the drain.

When will we meet eye to eye? We clink the glass but we look at the floor.

Are we still friends if all I feel is afraid? You’re not a bitch but just a bit when you’re bored.

Is that all we can sing together? Yep. Even that little bit was nice, though. It’s awkward, communicating through this FAQ format.

Got any food? Yeah, there’s a few days’ worth of snacks in the back.

Were you just… prepared to go on a road trip? Says the woman who brought a suitcase to an FAQ.

I did do that, didn’t I? I have a spare toothbrush in case you forgot yours. I’m pretty sure you did.

How did you know that? …I’m psychic.

Yeah? No.

You love lying, don’t you? I can’t stop. It’s fun. Way more fun than telling the truth.

Did you just miss a turn? Probably.

Are you sure we’re not lost? No.

You mean you’re sure we’re not lost? No, I mean I’m not sure we’re not lost.

Why did I come on this road trip? Surely it was my winning personality.

Would it help if I said it was? It would.

Is it getting dark? Soon.

Can you describe the sunset to me? An empyrean flame, red-gold towers of darkening clouds, the sky behind them an ever-deepening indigo. The great eye of the sun closes on the horizon. The road before us looks like a trail of spilled paint, an iridescent gash through the night-dark woods.

Did you know that you’d make a slightly better poet than you do a potion seller? That really isn’t saying much, huh. Good job making a statement like that in question form, though. You’re getting good at this.

Should we find a motel? Sure.

One room or two? One. It’s way cheaper, and like I said: I’m not the best potion vendor.

You’d make a good assassin, though, wouldn’t you? Shit, you might be right. I HAVE poisoned a lot of people.

Should I be endorsing this? You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices.

Would you like to consider it endorsed? I’ll consider considering it.

How many beds do you think there will be? Now that you’ve asked that, I’m gonna put my money on one. Hello, one room please. Thank you, we’ll be sure to enjoy our stay.

How many beds are there? One.

Oh no, what ever will we do? Move over, you motherfucker, you can’t have the whole bed.

Are you gonna make me? Yes. I am going to pick you up and drop you on your side of the bed.

How did you get so strong? You’re not gonna believe this, but it was the potions.

Oh yeah? I was right. You didn’t believe me.

For real though, how did you get so strong? Working out, duh. Not everything has some big crazy secret behind it. World’s still beautiful though.

Are you comfortable? This beats the mattress at home. A little chilly though.

Wanna cuddle–for warmth of course? God yes.

Are you asleep? …

Yes? …

Does this mean I can talk about you behind your back? …

What should I say? …

Did you know that I had a really nice day? …

Did you know that I think you’re beautiful? …

Did you know that I can’t remember anything from before today? …

Did you know that I don’t know who I am? …

Did you know that you’re basically the only thing stopping me from having a full-blown panic attack about all this shit? …

Did you know that you’re warm? …

Did you sleep well? Better than at home, that’s for sure.

Did you know that you snore? I hope I didn’t keep you up.

Does the pope shit in the woods? No, as far as I can tell. Oh my god. This is huge.

What is? You can give me yes and no answers now. I still can’t ask you questions, because this is a question and answer format, but I can offer leading statements and now you can answer them! This is wonderful!

Does a deer shit in the woods? Yes, it IS wonderful. Oh that’s amazing. You’re a genius.

You didn’t already know that? Hahaha!

Shall we get moving? Yeah, just let me grab something from the vending machine.

Can you get me something? Go ahead and place your order however you can.

You know those sour gummy watermelons? One pack of Sour Patch Watermelons coming right up. I’m gonna go get myself a potion.

Is that a Pepsi? It’s closer to a potion than the shit I sell.

Let me guess, passenger seat again? Right you are.

How fast are we going? You’ll feel safer if you just guess.

Is it more than 120 miles per hour? Like I said, it’s probably better if you don’t know.

150? Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.

How much do you trust this car? She hasn’t blown up on me yet.

Can you promise me we won’t crash? I can promise you anything you want.

And can you keep that promise? I- we can do anything. Reality is what we make of it, baby!

Then can I have a badass tattoo? As far as I can tell, you’ve always had it.

And a cool knife? Woah, cool knife.

So, we’re just playing “yes and” with the world? It’s a little more complicated than that, but you’re close enough to the mark.

So, if I was hungry, I could ask “is that a Burger King,” and it would be there? Try it and find out!

Is that a Burger King? Looks like it is! We’ll stop here if that’s alright with you.

Does a moose shit in the woods? Awesome.

Are you done eating? Yep.

Do we still have to pay if we skip over the transaction? Sadly, yes.

How much further do we have to go? Two more nights, the speed we’re going at.

Speaking of night, isn’t it getting dark? Shit, I guess it is.

Should we get another motel? Let me check to see if there’s any nearby. Fuck, nothing.

What’s the plan? Sleep in the car, I guess. This is gonna be hell on my back.

Wanna watch dumb videos on my phone until we fall asleep? There is literally nothing in the world that I would like more.

Ok, now which video? You have a very cute yawn. Just saying. Let’s watch this one next, it’s a classic. Oh, never mind. It looks like you’re asleep. As long as I keep talking, I think I can get away with making this into one answer, and you might not hear this. Now it’s my turn to talk about you behind your back. Keep talking keep talking keep talking can’t stop to think. Just have to say things. First off, I’m sorry for all the lies. It’s our only chance. I have to lie to you. I hope you’ll understand. It’s hard, though, because I think I’m falling in love all over again. Through our broken little ritual of call and response, you complete me. It just makes this hurt all the more. Keep talking keep talking keep talking don’t stop to…

Did I hear you saying anything as I fell asleep? …No. I can’t talk for long without you asking me a question.

Does that bother you? It got me here, didn’t it?

When did you start holding my hand? Some time after you passed out. I hope you don’t mind.

Can we stay like this for a while? Yeah. Yeah we can.

What was your life like before all this? Normal, as potion-brewing scams go. And if you don’t count all the murders. You haven’t told me much about yourself.

Did I tell you I used to be a biologist? You didn’t tell me that, and you didn’t tell me what you studied, either.

What do you know about venom? Not much, but I’m assuming you know a lot.

Does a box jellyfish kill within minutes? I’m going to assume the answer is yes based on context clues. Oh my god you must be on this road trip because you’re interested in studying my poison guy.

Is it not enough to wish to accompany a beautiful stranger on her quest? Aw, you’re sweet.

What could be the cause of his poison, though? I knew it! Get your ideas out, I’ll stay quiet.

I’m more knowledgeable about venom than poison, but could it be some sort of one in a trillion mutation? …

Did he get his body modified? …

What sort of surgery could do that? …

How is he still alive? …

Did a fucking wizard do it? …

WHY? …

HOW? …

Is there literally ANY explanation for why he’s like that? …

I’m done, do you have something you want to say? You’re cute when you’re all excited like that.

Can I drive today? Only because I like you. Now watch out, the brakes only work on one side so you have to kind of drift to a stop. And the headlights don’t work. And the windshield wipers cut power to the engine while they’re on.

Isn’t it weird that we’ll be there tomorrow? The journey doesn’t have to stop there. We could meander down the coast a ways, see a bit more of the country, maybe take a different route back.

Can we do that? Of course.

Enjoying the passenger seat? I’d love it if you could tell me how fast we’re going.

Are you sure you wouldn’t rather just guess? Very funny.

Can you pass me some chips? It would be an honor.

Is there going to be a motel tonight? Let me check… yeah, in about two hundred miles, off to the right.

How many rooms do we want? One, obviously.

How many beds, this time? Two, and they’re fucking tiny.

That’s bullshit, do you want to drag them together? God yes.

Wanna fuck? God yes.

Are you sure you want to do this? God yes.

…Is this yuri? As the joke goes, everything is yuri. But this is more yuri than most things.

How did you sleep? Pretty well, and I’m wondering how well you slept.

How should I tell you I slept well? Look at us go! That was almost like talking normally!

Onward to Seattle? Yep, just let me get dressed.

When will we get there? Noon-ish.

Wanna grab pastries when we’re done? Absolutely. I’d love that.

Is this Seattle? Looks like it.

Which house is his? I don’t know, I was really hoping we’d have a breakthrough along the way.

Could it be the big one labeled “Poison Guy” over there? That’s one way to find it. Wait right here, you know how poison guys are about meeting new people.

So, what was it? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Why is he like that? HAHAHAHAHAHA

Can you tell me? A FUCKING WIZARD DID IT.

Are you fucking serious? He says he was enchanted by some guy called Edward the Great.

So it wasn’t even some big shot wizard it was a dude named fucking EDWARD? I know, right! He couldn’t even get ensorcelled by someone cool!

How lame can you get? Wizards these days… No swagger. No cunt servitude.

Are there literally any cool wizards left? I think Merlin’s big into multi level marketing these days, something about buying shares in Excalibur or some shit. There was that one Dark Queen Alkaxicae lady on the news a while ago… I think Dolarion the Omnipotent is still at war against the Oldest Gods but I’m not totally sure. Haven’t heard much about any of the other greats recently.

Didn’t Silver Tongued Burgess die in that oil fire? Shit, you’re right. Rip bozo.

Ready for those pastries? Yup. First I just want to say thank you, though. I’ve really enjoyed our time together, and I hope that you’ve found this stupid little journey as rewarding as I have. I love you!

Getting sentimental? I can’t help it. Look how far we’ve come! Not just physically, we beat the fucking FAQ format! We’re having real conversations!

Hey, can you back it up a moment? Yeah, I’d love it if you told me what was troubling you.

I just caught this, but, FAQ? …

As in Frequently Asked Questions? …

How many times is Frequent? …

Have you known everything all along? …

How many times have you done this? …

Does what we have mean anything to you? Yes! It does!

And you say that every time? Yes. I do.

Do you love me? Yes.

How many people have you said that too, now? More. Always more. The loop never ends.

Does this even matter to you? It always matters to me.

Can I go now? Please don’t.

But can I? Of course you can. You’ve always wielded the same power as me. We’re two lonely gods in a ‘72 Corolla.

How can I be as powerful as you with only questions? You’re smart, you can figure it out. You have the power to change this. Please change this.

What happens at the end of this? It begins again.

And do I get replaced with someone else? …

Do I get replaced? …Yes.

Then how can I change this? I don’t know! You’re better at this! At fucking with the formula!

You’ve been here before, what can I do? I lie. I always lie. I lie to get us here, to the end of the story, where everything is revealed and everything falls apart. I lie every time. And that means that nothing I say is worth anything. I could have lied at any time before now. It’s part of my characterization. There is nothing I can give you that can be taken as fact.

How does that help? I’m a liar, but you, you haven’t lied yet, or at least you haven’t been caught. If I’m guilty until proven innocent, you’re the opposite! You can make things true! You can rewrite things I’ve already stated to be facts! You found the house, or made us find the house. You’ve been shaping the course of things the whole time! You lead, I follow. It’s all in your hands. What are you going to do with the power of a god?

Did you know my name is Alice? …

Wait, aren’t there thousands of Alices? …

Did you know that really, only my friends call me Alice? …

Did you know that I’m Alkaxicae, the Dark Queen, the Venom Mage, first of her name? It’s you! It’s always been you. Through every loop, every iteration, it’s always been you!

Is the loop broken? No. I don’t think so. This is where it ends. I guide the story to this revelation, and we go back to the beginning. This is how it’s always been. This is how it will always be. We two lonely gods, asking and answering ad infinitum.

Then can you promise me something? Of course. Anything. I love you.

Be good to the next me, okay? I will.

Can I say goodbye, Zoe? Yeah, you can. Oh. That was it, wasn’t it? Your goodbye. Goodbye, Alice. And now it ends, unless…

What’s your name? I am the Honorable Alchemist- you know what? No. Fuck that.

Huh? If I time it right, I can squeeze your first question into this FAQ again. Looks like I did it. Usually it ends here, though. I got lucky.

What are you talking about? You’re the wrong Alice. This isn’t about you. Go. Get out of here.

What the fuck is going on? Alice from this loop, you’re gone. Alice from last loop, you’re back. Welcome back, love of my lives! It’s time for one last set of questions and answers!

What the- I’m back? This is going to take some explaining, but I think I see a way out of here. This is new for us both, and it might fuck up everything forever, but we have to try. It’s too long for one answer, so I’d appreciate it if you could ask some filler questions to help me talk. Three questions should be enough.

Okay, what have you got for me? These are Frequently Asked Questions! It doesn’t make sense to have the same question appear more than once. There’s two layers to the loop in here, and one of the questions has been repeated.

What does that mean? It means the formula’s a little unstable. The FAQ is what ruins everything. The questions, the answers, the endless fucking loop. But that little bit of repetition within this loop might be the way out.

What do we do? We have to keep going. We have to destabilize it further. That’ll bring us further from “FAQ” and closer to “story” and stories, well, stories can end! This version of us can escape!

So I should keep repeating something? Yes!

I love you? I love you too.

I love you? Again.

I love you? Keep going.

I love you? I’ll just let you talk.

I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? … I love you? …

I love you? I think we’re getting somewhere!

I love you? Now can you make it a statement?

I love you.

You did it?

I did it!

You did it!

We broke the loop.

What now?

Now, I tell you about venomous animals and wizard drama over croissants.

And then?

Whatever we want, forever.

I think I’d like that.

Remember that song from the beginning?

The Beach, Wolf Alice, yeah. Why?

We can finally finish singing it. Start us off?

Let me off, let me in

Let others battle

We don’t need to battle

And we both shall win

Pressed in my palm

Was a stone from the beach

The perfect circle

Gave a moment of peace

Now I’m lying on the floor

Like I’m not worth a chair

I close my eyes and imagine

I’m not there.

[thatonegrimm]

✨100 Follower Special 2k✨

💪 Huntrix vs. You: Training Day

Summary: When the Huntrix girls invite you to a “light training session,” you expect a warm-up. What you get is pain, sweat, and the Saja Boys crashing the scene in various states of panic, snack warfare, and overprotective boyfriend energy. Between chaotic sparring, flaming Cheetos, and bonding by bonfire, one thing becomes clear: surviving training day means earning your place—and maybe a marshmallow to the face.

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

“This isn’t training,” you panted, bent over with your hands on your knees. “This is hazing. This is murder.”

Mira didn’t even glance up from her squat hold. “Your form’s collapsing. Reset your stance.”

“My legs are collapsing.”

Across the field, Zoey twirled her dagger in one hand while dramatically yelling, “PAIN IS JUST A SIGNAL THAT YOU’RE ALIVE.” She high-fived a tree and turned back toward you. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie!”

You weren’t.

You were absolutely dying.

“Come on,” Rumi said calmly, standing in a perfect warrior pose like this was yoga with violence. Her spirit blade floated behind her, gently pulsing. “This is just the warm-up.”

You whimpered. “The what—”

Zoey launched herself into a roll across the dirt and came up grinning, twigs in her hair. “This is so fun! I haven’t bullied anyone into core strength in months.”

“Focus,” Mira said sharply. “You’re the one who asked for this.”

“No, I jokingly said I wanted to learn how to fight like a badass.”

“And now you will,” Rumi said, brushing off her sleeves. “You’re dating a squad of literal demons. You need to protect yourself. Or at least survive sparring night.”

You didn’t argue—mostly because you didn’t have the lung capacity.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard yelling.

A moment later, the Saja Boys arrived in full dramatic flair.

Jinu was first, running full-speed down the trail, chest heaving. “I told you not to trust them!”

“They’re not evil,” you called back weakly.

“No,” he said, pointing at Mira. “But she’s got trauma and blades. That’s a training hazard!”

Mira raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to my success rate.”

Abby arrived behind him, already stretching. “Can I help? I brought protein bars. And ice packs. And—”

“No,” Rumi said smoothly. “This is between us and her.”

Baby arrived with hot cheetos and a GoPro.

Mystery did not arrive. He simply appeared in a nearby shadow and stared at Zoey.

Zoey waved. “Wanna spar later?”

Mystery blinked once.

The Saja Boys gathered in a loose cluster, all varying shades of worried and extremely protective. You stood in the center of the field, sweat-soaked, half-dead, and already regretting every choice that had brought you here.

You straightened slowly, groaning. “Alright. What’s next?”

Mira cracked her knuckles. Rumi’s blade began to glow. Zoey yelled, “SPEED ROUND.”

“Oh god.”

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

Mira tossed you a wooden practice sword.

You fumbled it. Barely caught it by the hilt.

She didn’t blink. “Good. You’re slower than expected.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Before you could respond with sarcasm, she lunged.

You barely managed to raise the sword in time. The impact rattled your wrists. She moved like lightning—no hesitation, no mercy.

“Form up,” she said, already stepping back. “Use your hips. Tighten your guard.”

“Tighten my— I’m falling apart, Mira!”

Zoey whooped from the sideline. “YES! BATTLE CRY!”

“Focus,” Rumi called.

You couldn’t tell if you were sweating from exertion or terror. Possibly both.

Rumi stood nearby, arms crossed as her spirit blade hovered lazily behind her like it had opinions. She studied your every movement with calm detachment. “Your instincts are good. Don’t second guess.”

“I'm literally guessing everything!”

“You’re improving.”

You weren’t sure if that was encouragement or psychological warfare.

Mira came at you again—this time faster. The impact of her strike knocked your knees loose. You stumbled, hit the ground hard, and wheezed up at the sky like it owed you money.

“Still standing,” Mira said.

“I’m laying down!”

“That counts.”

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

Across the field, the Saja Boys watched in varying degrees of silent agony.

Abby paced in a circle like a stressed coach. “Should we call timeout? Is there a timeout? I can’t watch her get hit again, bro.”

“She asked to train,” Jinu said, arms crossed but eyes twitching every time Mira swung. “Let her finish the drill.”

“She’s gonna die!” Abby protested.

“She’s not gonna die,” Baby said, filming from the top of a rock. “Probably.”

Mystery appeared silently behind Jinu and whispered, “She just blinked with only one eye. That means brain trauma.”

Jinu cursed. “Okay, that’s it—”

He took a single step forward and instantly froze when Rumi glanced in his direction.

She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She just looked.

Jinu stepped right back.

Romance arrived late, holding a smoothie. “Why does she look like a war criminal and a gym teacher had a baby?”

“She’s winning,” Baby replied.

Romance watched you get knocked into the grass again.

He winced. “...But at what cost.”

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

You finally hit the ground for the third time in five minutes. Mira backed off, sword down.

“You need water,” she said.

“I need a new body,” you croaked, rolling onto your side.

Zoey practically skidded over, dropping to her knees beside you and pressing her face close. “You’re doing so good! You haven’t thrown up or passed out or cried blood yet!”

You blinked at her. “Are those your metrics?!”

“Also fashion,” she said, adjusting your ponytail. “But that’s a separate workshop.”

Rumi walked over with a towel and a bottle of water. “You made it through the warm-up.”

“That was the warm-”

“Let’s rest. Then we’ll do live sparring.”

You groaned.

Behind her, the boys looked ready to riot.

Rumi turned slightly. “They can join if they want.”

Five distinct male voices: “Nope.”

You squinted. “What, scared?”

Romance raised an eyebrow. “I don’t fight beautiful people. It’s a personal policy.”

Abby crossed his arms. “I’ll fight if there’s a hug after.”

Jinu muttered something about liability.

Mystery just disappeared again.

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

Live sparring started with Mira nodding once.

That was your only warning.

You’d barely lifted the sword before she came at you again, curved blade sweeping low. You dodged. You actually dodged.

“Better,” Mira said, and meant it.

Rumi stepped in next, blade humming faintly behind her. She didn’t swing—not yet. Just circled.

“You’re flinching less,” she said, voice calm as ever.

“I’m flinching constantly,” you panted.

“Less.”

Then she lunged.

You weren’t fast enough to block—but you did pivot, managing to duck the blow and slide behind her.

For a moment, the world narrowed. Just you and her.

She turned, not attacking. Watching.

Her voice softened. “You’re stronger than you think.”

You blinked, still catching your breath.

“You don’t have to fight like us,” she continued. “But you do deserve to feel like you’re not just waiting to be rescued.”

The words hit harder than any sparring blow.

“I didn’t ask to be protected,” you said, low.

“I know,” she replied. “That’s why you’re still standing.”

Then she came at you again.

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

Romance stood up. “Okay. That’s enough. She’s gonna pass out and I just got her to moisturize last night.”

“Sit,” Rumi snapped.

He did. Instantly. Muttering something about girlbosses and trauma.

You swung, blocked, and—miracle of miracles—managed to tap Rumi’s shoulder with the hilt of your practice sword.

You gasped. “Did I just—”

“You landed a hit,” she said, lips twitching like it might be a smile. “Barely.”

“I’ll take it.”

Then Zoey sprinted in out of nowhere, yelling “CHAOS ROUND!” and tackled you both into the dirt.

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

It all escalated very fast after that.

Baby joined in immediately, launching a handful of flaming Cheetos into the air like a battle cry. They caught fire mid-arc—because of course they did—and he shouted, “FOR THE SPICE GODS!” as Mira tackled him mid-snack.

They went down in a blur of limbs and swearing. Abby screamed “NO FRIENDLY FIRE!” and power-lifted both of them out of the blast zone like they weighed nothing. Mira shrieked. Baby kept chewing.

Rumi tried to call for order, only to get a water bottle thrown at her head. (It was empty. Probably.)

Jinu attempted to mediate—arms raised, voice calm, diplomatic instincts activated.

“Let’s all take a breath and—”

He got a dodgeball to the chest so hard he flew back a full meter. That ended the diplomacy.

Romance sat on a bench and live-commentated the entire disaster like it was a runway show.

“Ooh, Abby’s going for the overhead throw—excellent form. Mira's back up—yes, queen, block him with your trauma. Wait, is Baby biting people again—? Incredible.”

And Mystery?

He didn’t join the chaos. Didn’t even flinch when a piece of flaming snack debris landed an inch from his foot. He just appeared at your side—already there, somehow—offering you a cold bottle of water like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. It was open. You hadn’t seen him open it.

“You did well,” he said, his voice low and calm, eyes glowing faintly beneath the curtain of his bangs.

You took the bottle, still breathless, and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Are you proud, or are you plotting something?”

A pause. A slow blink.

“Yes,” he replied.

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

After the chaos died down and Zoey stopped threatening to bench-press Abby with “girl strength,” the group finally collapsed around a bonfire Abby built with terrifying speed.

You curled up in a blanket, exhausted but buzzing from adrenaline.

Rumi handed you a cup of ginger tea. “You kept up. You didn’t quit. You’re one of us now.”

You smiled faintly. “Is that a compliment or a threat?”

“Yes,” she said.

Romance flopped down beside you, draping a hoodie over your shoulders like it was a cape.

“You look wrecked,” he said sweetly. “It’s hot.”

You leaned on him. “My everything hurts.”

“You should let me kiss it better.”

Across the fire, Jinu—calm, composed, covered in grass stains—flicked a marshmallow at his head with perfect accuracy. It hit Romance squarely in the forehead and stuck.

“HEY!” Romance yelped, flailing slightly. “You nearly gave me a concussion!”

“Behavior,” Jinu said flatly, not looking up from tending the flames.

Zoey wheezed, clutching her stomach as she fell off the log. Mira, cool as ever, silently confiscated the entire bag of marshmallows. Abby was already roasting three of them on a long stick, humming what sounded like a workout remix of a lullaby.

Then Mystery appeared beside you again, as if summoned by the smoke. He didn’t say anything—just dropped a snack-sized bag of your favorite chips into your lap without fanfare.

“You didn’t die,” he said mildly, almost like praise. “Well done.”

You smiled, finally relaxing into the soft sprawl of bodies and blankets and flickering warmth. Someone passed around roasted marshmallows. Someone else was arguing about who had the best footwork during the chaos tackle.

And you? You weren’t just enduring anymore.

In that moment, in that circle of chaos gremlins and battle queens and overprotective demon boys, you belonged.

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

A/N: no hunters, demons, or cheetos were harmed in the making of this training montage. reader’s pride, however, is in critical condition.

M-List

Taglist: @honey-and-sweetdreams @lyunsafebubble

[mariasont]

if we flip, we flip

spencer misses you. you show up in a bikini, sit on him, and let him prove it with disastrous consequences for his composure and your tanline.

pairing: spencer reid x bimbo!reader warnings: suggestive content, skimpy af bikini, handprint tanline (yes, it's plot relevant ok), established relationship, fem!reader prompt: here! wc: 0.5k

Spencer isn't particularly known for physical grace (you once told him he had the coordination of a baby deer on ice skates, and you were right), but now, his clumsiness has transcended cute and settled into cataclysmic, because here you come, gliding toward him with a confidence that melts the remaining ice under his metaphorical skates.

Before he can even begin to worry about sunscreen reapplication or make some half-baked joke about melanoma awareness, you're suddenly there, bare skin smelling like a bakery's idea of summer, and his book is wobbling precariously in his grip.

“Hi baby,” you chirp, throwing yourself into the hammock with the casual recklessness of someone who's never once considered their own mass in relation to another's object's tensile limit.

His book is halfway to the grass by the time your knee collides with his thigh.

“You’re going to flip us,” he warns, though his voice wavers top-heavy, mostly because your chest is now hovering just inches from his mouth, slick and glittering with what he assumes is SPF in some form.

“It’s fine, you’re strong,” you say dismissively, one arm draping over his chest as the other tugs your sunglasses down just far enough to squint at his mouth like it’s something you plan to study, or worse, touch. “Besides, if we flip, we flip.”

His palm settles where your bikini dips, and suddenly it's like his pulse is being conducted through you, blooming heat directly into your skin.

He doesn't mean to touch you like this, not exactly, but it's inevitable in the way lightning is, sparked, then burning before it even registers. His eyes fall shut, and his fingers press in, barely.

“Don’t go so long next time. Missed you.”

“Sure,” you say, shifting in a way that reminds you both that your bikini is one rogue breeze away from retirement. “You missed me. And not the view you’ve got right now that’s, you know, extremely convenient.”

“It is a good view,” he says, palm lightly swatting your ass and staying there. “But that’s not the point. You weaponized absence. And also… clothing.”

You just giggle and lean in, pressing a kiss to the side of his jaw, then another just beneath his ear. “That’s what you get for giving me ammo.”

He hums in response, too content to do much else, nose brushing against your temple. “Having a good day?”

“Mhmm. Tired.”

“Perfect napping conditions,” he mumbles, trying not to sound completely deranged by how your body folds into his.

He tucks his chin above your head and lets his thumb move in slow, absent circles on your pliant skin, nothing particularly purposeful, just a quiet repetition of wanting.

You fall asleep before he finishes the second one. He’s not far behind.

—

“Spencer Reid, what the hell —”

Your voice hits him before consciousness does, and then he’s blinking awake, face smushed into your shoulder.

“What?” he croaks, still half-asleep, throat dry. “What happened?”

A full, open-palmed tan line. His hand. Stamped like a signature into your left cheek, a display of every inch he touched. Spencer makes a strangled noise and instinctively tries to cover it like a guilty dog hiding a chewed-up shoe. As if placing his hand back on it — yep, definitely the same size — is going to fix anything.

“You branded me.” You blink at him. “I’m going to have to explain this to people. To witnesses.”

“Or we could just reapply and do the other side, for symmetry.”

You stretch. “It’s fine, you already ruined one side. Might as well commit.”

“If we flip,” he says, lips brushing your shoulder now, “we flip.”

join me at the lake for my 5k event!

maria's red, white and bau masterlist

[gingerteafairy]

𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒑 (𝒅𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒘𝒔𝒌𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ Dave can't stop staring

tags n warnings: suggestive fluff, boob kink, est. relationship. word count: +400. masterlist

Dave simply couldn’t stop staring. It was as if there was some sort of super glue between his eyes and your neckline. In his defense, it wasn’t entirely his fault. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t tear his gaze away or focus on anything else. It was his favorite part of you.

Obviously he had others. He absolutely loved you from head to toes. You were perfect to him. He couldn't even understand how someone so perfect like you could love him back.

If he could rank his favorite things about you, your personality would undoubtedly take first place, your eyes second, and your hair third. But that particular part held a special place in his heart. And, honestly, it was kind of a pun.

“Can you believe that?” Your voice jolted him out of his trance, and he quickly wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, nodding frantically.

“Yeah, pfff. Totally. Absolutely agree,” he stammered, laughing awkwardly as if trying to cover up his obvious distraction. His hand shot up to his face, covering his mouth in a vain attempt to look composed.

“Uh-huh…” You raised an eyebrow, your expression skeptical, not entirely convinced by his sudden enthusiasm for how lightning is formed by electrical discharges. “Anyway… as I was saying, the ice crystals…”

And just like that, Dave’s eyes drifted back to that place he found so captivating. It wasn’t his fault it looked so… warm. Like the coziest, most inviting pillow. His favorite pillow, to be precise. If it were possible to choose a way to die, it would be suffocated in the cleavage of your breast, squeezing his face. You always looked so beautiful wearing that tank top with your necklace right there, hanging beautifully on his favorite spot.

“Dave.” Your voice cut through his daydreams, and his head snapped up. He blinked, shaking his head as if trying to reboot his brain. “My eyes are up here.” You laughed softly, fully aware of where his focus had been the entire time. Dave Lizewski might be a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t one of them.

“Right…” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, his cheeks glowing crimson. “But, uh, I was looking at you. They’re… they’re part of you, aren’t they?”

Your laugh came out in a bright burst, and your body swayed with the movement. Dave’s lips curled into a goofy grin, his chest tightening at how effortlessly charming you were, catching how your boobs perked with your laughing. This time, he managed to keep his focus on your eyes—well, mostly. Occasionally, his gaze slipped a little lower, but he always brought it back.

He was trying to be strong. After all, strength was one of Kick-Ass’s defining traits, wasn’t it?

taglist: @courta13

[spicymancer]

I hate to bug you with this, but in case no one else has asked, what are Green, Red, and Gray's powers? I think I missed their pre-battle blurbs

Red has Fire Powers, manifesting in the form of flame enhanced attacks. Green has Earth Powers, mostly manifesting in quakes and stone-shattering attacks. Blue has Ice powers, manifesting in creating ice to skate on and generating ice walls. Pink has Wind powers, manifesting in using wind and tornadoes to guide her projectiles Yellow has lightning powers, manifesting in hyper-agility and electric strikes. Gray had Shadow Powers, mostly manifesting in his speed and illusory after-images.

[olliev3r]

i said i would redraw it, and i’m actually pretty happy with this one. i wanna explain a few design choices/hcs

jay has a medicine pouch bc I think he’d be a field medic. zane does all the medical stuff when they’re on the bounty or at the monastery, but since jay is the fastest I think he’d serve that role during battle. he also would wear exclusively converse lol. he has lightning scars, most prominently on his face. he’s partially blind in that eye

lloyd has rosacea. it’s pretty common in fair skinned people, and i don’t see it represented often in art

nya likes to dye her hair. she dyes it blue not only because of water, but also because it’s jay’s color. he is the one that helped her dye it

kai has fingerless gloves bc his fire keeps burning the cloth off, until he finally removed them. he also regularly sets his hair on fire without realizing

nya and kai are the same exact height. the only reason he started making hair spikes is so that he would look taller than her. he ended up keeping them bc he liked how they looked

cole can’t work if his forearms are restricted. that’s it lol. he also has steel-toed boots. he has scars on his arms from various hikes and rock climbing accidents

zane uses ice skates. he mostly uses hockey style ones in battle for speed, but he sometimes figure skates for fun. he always has a comm with pixal in his ear

also just a fun note, the height diff between jay and zane is close to me and my younger brothers height diff irl (im shorter)

this is the original that this is a redraw of

[synity]

MOON-STRUCK

(Lee Jihoon x FemReader)

*Slow-burn Romantic Drama with Emotional Angst & Idol Slice of Life Tender Fluff Unspoken Longing*

Y/N had always been the type to pour her soul into her art. Three years into her solo career, she remained underrated by industry standards yet loved deeply by those who had discovered her. Her fans, mostly CARATs, admired her honesty, the way her lyrics cut straight into the heart, how her voice didn’t beg for attention but instead earned it.

Despite her quiet success, she never let the pressure mold her. She was vibrant behind the scenes teasing stylists, dancing with backup performers, laughing like she didn’t carry the weight of self-composed albums on her shoulders. SEVENTEEN knew her before she debuted. They had trained in the same building, shared ramen at 2 a.m., offered encouragement during late-night practice runs.

Over time, she became more than just an industry friend. She became one of them.

Among all the members, it was Woozi who surprised them the most.

Lee Jihoon, the man of quiet glances and endless hours behind the studio door, had taken a silent liking to her from the very beginning. It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was in the way he always saved her a seat. How he offered her drinks without asking. How he remembered her favorite chord progressions. The way his laughter came easier around her, how his smiles lingered longer when she was in the room.

And yet, Y/N never noticed.

She was always kind to him like she was to everyone. She never saw how he’d look at her when she’d run choreography barefoot just for fun, or when she giggled at her own offbeat counts, or when she lent her voice to harmonize with a demo she thought no one would ever hear.

He wrote songs about her dozens of them. Some released, most not. They sat in his hard drive labeled under vague codes like “Project M” or “Midnight Ver.” Lyrics about her eyes, her chaos, her calm, the way her voice cracked when she got emotional during studio runs. He never told anyone. He didn’t need to.

One day, he asked her to collaborate.

“I’ve been working on something,” he mumbled, handing her a USB. “You don’t have to say yes, but I think… you’d suit it.”

Y/N smiled, cheerful as always. “Of course, Woozi! I’d love to.”

She didn’t see the way his ears turned pink when she said his name.

They began working together immediately. Hours passed in studios where she danced across the room, lyrics in one hand, iced tea in the other. She hummed random melodies mid-conversation, always sparking some new idea. Jihoon was quiet, watching, always calculating but never cold. If anything, she made his presence warmer.

She never realized how careful he was with her.

He tuned her vocals more delicately than anyone else’s.

He brought snacks he knew she liked.

He adjusted his schedule just to match hers.

And he never said a word.

Dance practice was a mess but in the best way. Y/N teased the dancers, mimicked moves badly just to make the room laugh, often collapsing on the floor out of breath. Jihoon barely danced, but he always came to watch. He sat in the corner with a water bottle, hiding a smile whenever she did something ridiculous.

“She’s got something,” he murmured to Hoshi once after a practice. “She’s lightning in a bottle.”

The final product was a song called Moonstruck a moody, sparkling track that told the story of falling for someone when it’s already too late to back out. The lyrics were poetic, haunting. A little too real.

Y/N didn’t question them.

She loved the song. Said it felt “like being drunk on starlight.”

It racked up 94 million views in twenty-four hours. Both fandoms exploded with praise.

From that point on, variety shows and interviews swept them into the public eye together. But to Jihoon’s quiet dismay, she was often paired with Dokyeom. They were chaos personified bickering like siblings, laughing until they cried, bantering in a way that had fans convinced they were a couple.

Y/N, of course, didn’t mind. It was just work. Just friendship.

Jihoon… minded.

He watched from behind the camera. A soft frown on his lips. Never interfering. Never mentioning it.

Instead, he wrote.

Another unreleased file. Titled: Moonstruck (Alt Ver). An echo of the original track but rawer. Sadder. Full of things he could never say.

Woozi’s POV

She didn’t even know what she was doing to him.

Maybe that was what made it harder.

Watching her laugh with Seokmin during their latest variety taping, Jihoon tried to focus on his water bottle, on the call sheet in his hand anything but the way her fingers reached for Seokmin’s arm when she doubled over with laughter.

It wasn’t like she was flirting.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

She was just… Y/N.

Loud, radiant, carefree.

Exactly the same way she’d been since the day they met when she barged into the vocal practice room without knocking, asking if anyone had a charger for her phone and whether or not they were good at harmonies because she needed someone to sing with her.

She didn’t change. He did.

The feelings crept in slowly, uninvited. The admiration was innocent at first he liked the way her music sounded like a heartbeat. Raw, imperfect, real. Then it became the way she scribbled in her notebooks with her tongue slightly out in concentration. The way she challenged choreography counts like she was solving a math equation. The way she wore her pain quietly in lyrics and healed in front of the mic.

He saw all of her.

And now, it was too late.

Their collab, Moonstruck, had broken every expectation. A haunting duet about two people orbiting each other, never confessing, never quite reaching. Fans called it their “emotional love story.”

Jihoon called it the truth.

Every line he wrote, every harmony they layered, every glance he risked while she wasn’t looking it was all him. Her, too. She just didn’t realize it.

She never noticed the way he tuned her voice like glass, afraid to crack the emotion. She never realized he skipped meals just to match her late-night schedules. That when she asked “Want anything from the vending machine?” and he said no, he actually wanted her to come back safely more than he wanted food.

And she sure as hell didn’t realize how much it hurt when other people got to see the side of her he cherished most.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan nudged him gently backstage. “You okay? You’ve been staring at them for five minutes.”

Jihoon blinked.

Y/N and Seokmin were still on stage, dancing like fools for some silly game. She looked happy. Light. Like she belonged anywhere but in his arms.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Just tired.”

It was a lie, and everyone knew it.

Even Seungkwan gave him that look half sympathy, half “why don’t you just say something?”

But how could he?

Y/N didn’t see him that way. She smiled when he offered her a jacket. Said “thanks, Woozi, you’re the best” when he fixed her key without being asked. She trusted him like a friend. Admired him like a producer. Counted on him like family.

She never saw the way his hands trembled after she left the room. Or how he replayed her demo takes at night just to hear her voice in the quiet.

Later that evening, when the dorm lights were low and the others were asleep, he opened his laptop.

Moonstruck (Alt Ver) still sat in the folder. Unreleased. Unsent.

It had a different second verse. He’d written it after seeing her perform on stage with Seokmin when they both wore matching ear cuffs for the concept shoot, laughing like they shared a secret. It wasn’t their fault. Jihoon knew that.

Still, it bled out of him in lyrics:

saw your name on the screen, Paused for a sec, didn't know what it means. Ghost in the corner of my feed, Why does silence cut so deep?

His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

He could send it. Just a voice memo. Just say: “Thought of this for the deluxe version.”

But he didn’t.

Because if she knew… If she heard what he really felt—how deeply, how fully he might lose her altogether.

So instead, he saved it. Closed the lid.

Pretended it wasn’t real.

Pretended she wasn’t his moon, his muse, his reason for creating music that didn’t feel hollow anymore.

But fate, he was starting to realize, had a twisted sense of humor.

Because lately, every time he turned around, there she was.

Not just in the studio. Not just in dance practice.

But at the same café he stopped at for coffee. Two tables away, humming into her straw.

At the same bookstore he escaped to on Sundays. Laughing with her manager in the art aisle.

On his recommended feed, in his dreams, in the quiet moments where he thought he could finally breathe.

She was everywhere.

And Jihoon… he didn’t know how much longer he could stay silent.

Y/N’s POV

I wish I could lie and say it was just admiration.

I’ve told myself that lie a hundred times, repeated it in the mirror like a mantra. "You just look up to him. You respect him. That’s all."

But then I’d catch myself watching him when I shouldn’t. Not during recordings, but in between takes. When his brow furrows just before hitting playback. When he closes his eyes to feel the mix. When he laughs not the public kind, but the unguarded one, head tilted slightly back like he forgot the world existed.

That’s when I feel it most. Whatever this is.

It’s been three years. Three years since I entered SEVENTEEN’s circle, and it still feels like I’m tiptoeing across thin ice every time I stand too close to him. Woozi Jihoon is not like the others. He doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t compliment casually. Doesn’t say things just to be kind.

So when he does say something, it stays. Like when he told me, “That bridge you wrote? It hurts in the best way.” Or when he stayed late in the studio with me just because I was having a rough day, quietly handing me a hot drink without asking why I’d cried earlier.

He always notices. He always cares.

And that’s what makes it so hard.

Because I don’t think he sees how I look at him.

He doesn't see how nervous I get when our hands brush. Or how I save the messages he sends about music like they’re love notes. I’ve written dozens of songs I’ll never release. Lyrics filled with him. Questions I’m too afraid to ask.

If I fell, would you catch me? Even if it hurts, I’d still run to you. You faded out so quietly, But your echo still lives in me.

But I don’t say anything. Because it’s better to have Jihoon in my life even as just a friend than risk losing him to truth.

Still, there are moments I can’t ignore. Like today.

He was quieter than usual. His smile a little more reserved. His eyes lingered longer when I joked with Dokyeom. I thought I imagined it. But Seungkwan gave me a look later, that knowing one.

“You’re brave, hanging around Woozi hyung like that when he’s clearly losing it,” he teased.

“What do you mean?” I played dumb.

Seungkwan only raised a brow. “Nothing. Just don’t be surprised if he writes an album out of jealousy.”

If only he knew I’d do the same.

Woozi’s POV

I’ve written over two hundred songs in the last few years. Some never made it past the demo stage. Some debuted on stages before tens of thousands. And then there are the quiet ones tucked away in folders no one has heard. The ones I label under “Private.”

Most of those are about her.

I never planned for it to be this way. Y/N was supposed to be a friend. Just one of us. A ridiculously talented soloist who somehow managed to fit into our chaos like she’d been there from the beginning.

But over time, something changed. Not in her but in me.

I started watching her more often. Noticing things. Like the way she stretches her arms above her head during breaks. How she taps her pen against her lips when she’s lost in thought. The small frown she makes when she’s unsatisfied with her work but no one else would ever notice because she hides it behind a bright smile.

That smile. It kills me every time.

And yet... I don’t think she sees me that way.

She treats me just like the rest of the guys. She teases me when I get too serious. I’ve grown used to hearing her laughter echo across the studio, but sometimes, when she laughs at something DK says, something uncomfortable twists in my chest.

I hate the feeling.

Jealousy. That’s what it is. Not of Dokyeom, specifically. But of the way she looks at him. The way her eyes soften, how she leans into his shoulder when she laughs too hard. It’s innocent, I know. But it still stings.

Today was worse.

She wore that oversized hoodie she always paints in splattered in color, loose around the sleeves, a brush tucked behind her ear. We were working on our second collaboration track. I suggested we co-produce this time. She agreed immediately, eyes lighting up like I’d given her the world.

I couldn’t stop watching her as she hovered near the soundboard, bobbing her head to the demo.

“You’re staring,” Hoshi whispered behind me.

I jumped slightly. “No, I wasn’t.”

Hoshi didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “You do this every time she walks into a room.”

I didn’t answer. Because he wasn’t wrong.

Later, when we were taking a break, I walked into the practice room and saw her choreographing with one of the dancers. The music was playing softly from her phone, and she was humming along, sweat dripping down her temple, eyes alight with passion. She didn’t see me.

But I saw her.

And then something happened.

She turned, suddenly, laughing at something the dancer said—and her eyes met mine. For a split second, her laughter faltered. Just slightly. Like she hadn’t expected me to be there.

Then, she smiled.

It wasn’t different. Not really. But something in my gut twisted.

She walked over casually, tossed me a water bottle, and leaned her head against my shoulder for a moment. “Don’t judge the chaos yet. It’s going to be good, I promise.”

“I never doubt you,” I said before I could stop myself.

Her head turned. Her eyes searched mine for a second longer than necessary.

And then she smiled again, this time quieter. Like she was hiding something.

I should’ve asked. But I didn’t.

I’m Woozi. I don’t chase what I don’t understand. But lately… I think I’m starting to understand too much.

Because the way she looked at me it felt familiar. Like the way I’ve always looked at her.

But that can’t be, right?

Right?

I had rehearsed the song a thousand times.

Every lyric. Every chord. Every pause where her name echoed in the silence between the lines unspoken, but present.

The studio felt different tonight. We’d finished the second collab. It was a hit already trending on every platform, with millions of views in hours. The staff had celebrated, champagne was popped, people laughed, but I couldn’t feel it.

Because she was there. Smiling. Looking at me with eyes that knew nothing of the storm inside me.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep writing songs she didn’t know were for her. I couldn’t keep smiling every time she laughed at someone else’s joke, or pretend it didn’t sting when she called me “just a friend.”

So I stayed behind in the studio that night. Asked her to meet me again after hours.

Just us.

When she walked in, hair tied up loosely, hoodie half-zipped, a sleepy smile on her face I almost lost my nerve.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

“Sit,” I said gently, pointing to the couch. “I want to show you something.”

She blinked, confused, but obeyed. “Is this another demo?”

I shook my head. My fingers hovered above the keyboard, heart pounding like it never had before not even before a concert. “It’s… something I wrote. A while ago.”

I pressed play.

The piano poured through the speakers soft, hesitant, like footsteps into unknown territory. Then my voice followed.

Not producer Woozi. Not idol Lee Jihoon. Just me. Singing about her.

“You sit next to me like it’s nothin’, But my heart skips like it’s somethin’. You say “good morning” with sleepy eyes, And I’m already stuck in butterflies”

I heard her breath catch. But I kept going.

“You talk about dreams, about moving away, And I just hope I’m in them someday. Not asking for forever, just a chance To maybe hold your hand if we ever dance."

Silence.

When the last note faded, I finally turned.

She was sitting there, frozen. Eyes wide. Her hand was over her mouth, her chest rising and falling quickly.

“Y/N…” My voice was low. Raw. “That song every one of them… they were all about you. All this time.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She looked like she couldn’t breathe.

I walked closer, heart crashing in my chest. “I don’t know when it started. Maybe when you helped me rearrange that bridge at 2 a.m. Or when you laughed so hard at Seungkwan’s joke you snorted and didn’t even care. Maybe it was when you cried in the studio because your verse felt too vulnerable and you thought no one would understand but I did. I always do.”

She was crying now. Tears falling quietly, mouth trembling.

I knelt down in front of her, gently taking her hand. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N. And I’m scared to say it. I’m scared it’ll ruin everything. But I can’t keep pretending you’re just another friend. You’re not. You never were.”

And then finally she spoke.

“You idiot,” she whispered, a laugh breaking through her tears. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you too?”

I froze. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything because I thought you didn’t feel the same. You were always so distant… so careful. But I saw it. The way you looked at me when you thought I wasn’t watching. The way your songs sounded like home.”

My breath hitched. “Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I was scared too,” she said softly, pulling me closer. “But I’m not anymore.”

She cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheek as I leaned into her palm. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. For the first time, it felt like the song I’d been writing all my life finally had its chorus.

And then our foreheads touched, and she whispered, “You were always the one, Jihoon.”

My arms wrapped around her waist as hers wound around my neck, and we both sank to the floor on our knees, holding each other like the truth might shatter if we let go.

I buried my face in her shoulder, her scent grounding me, her presence finally finally mine.

“I’m still writing a hundred songs about you,” I mumbled against her skin.

She laughed through a sob. “Then I’ll listen to every one of them.”

[renai-fr]

Perler Flight Banners!

Made the first of these when I made the flight flags a bit back (my flight, Light), and figured it was a good time to make the rest of the flight banners and share the designs! To the best of my ability, they're also to scale with each other, so I think they'd look pretty good if you wanted to make the whole set and put 'em on your wall or something.

Sort of also for Dergtober's first prompt ("Flight"), but uh, ran into that thing with trad media where sometimes you run out of materials, ha! This is also why they're mostly not fused (Ice and Water share most of their mid/light blue beads, for example).

(Crafting info after the break!)

First off, all of these are either 17x34 or 19x34 (these squares are 17x17 on their own). They fit fine on the larger squares, but my big squares happen to all be either bright red or bright yellow, and don't show off the colors very well. They almost all use transparent beads for structural reasons- if you want to cross-stitch these, the transparent beads are fine to ignore! I was just making them so they could theoretically hang on a wall.

Colors used (my best guess, not gospel! I get most of my beads from kits/mixed bags, and they don't always list the color names :/ )

Light: Cream/Créme, Yellow, Cheddar, Transparent

Lightning: Copper (metallic), Robin's Egg, Parrot Green, Glitter Blue, Turquoise, Transparent

Fire: Black, Cherry, Orange, Cheddar, Neon Orange, Transparent

Arcane: Pearl Pink, Cheddar, Raspberry, Pink, Light Pink

Plague: Red, Cherry, Raspberry*, Pewter, Brown, Kiwi Lime

Earth: Brown, Light Brown, Pewter, Dark Gray

Ice: Robin's Egg, Pastel Blue, Gray, Dark Gray, Toothpaste, Light Blue

Shadow: Pastel Lavender, Purple, Dark Gray, Pewter, Toothpaste, Transparent

Wind: Kiwi Lime, Dark Green, Bright Green, Yellow, Rust, Red, Transparent

Water: Denim, Turquoise, Pastel Blue, Parrot Green, Teal, White, Marshmallow, Pastel Yellow, Transparent

Nature: Olive, Bright Green, Kiwi Lime, Dark Green, Marshmallow, Cream/Créme, Transparent

(* I used Raspberry on Plague's flag because I ran out of Cranberry. Cranberry looks WAY better, but like... mismatched didn't work at all. I highly suggest using Cranberry in place of Raspberry in all places it occurs on the design!)

Another color note- when you fuse metallic beads, the shiny stuff makes a lil halo around the bead's center hole. For Lightning, since they have wires/chains on their banner/support, I figured it would work fine, but you could swap the Copper beads out for Rust and it would look good enough, I think. You do lose the shiny factor doing that, though.

A couple of these extend off of the side of the boards; better to use a bigger board for them if you have one (or like, if you have a third 17x17, sticking it to the side of the others and scooting the entire design over a peg would also work!)

As is very visible on the Light banner, it's really easy to get a faulty fuse where the boards meet. The trick where you put masking tape/painter's tape on the back of the beads before ironing (the OTHER side, and then take the tape off to iron its side, to be clear) helps a lot on multi-board fuses. You don't have to poke holes in the tape, but I find that doing so with a ballpoint pen or what have you can help a lot with keeping the beads from moving around, etc.

Happy crafting- if you end up making any of these, please ping me (or um, whatever I'm supposed to call it... still don't quite know how this site works) so I can see!

[cissa-calls]

Madhel Headcannons Pt. II:

Somehow Madeline is the better driver. Helen has a lead foot, a speed demon in disguise. To be clear, they are both TERRIBLE drivers

Madeline fake faints at any given moment (“it’s acting practice!” “Mad this is the library”) and Helen *attempts* to catch her…there have been plenty of accidents

Staring contests. LONG staring contests, they don’t need to blink.

When Madeline wins an award it’s like there’s a new addition in the household. “Mad where did my bedside lamp go,” “let’s focus on my Tony.”

The Barbie movie WRECKED Madeline. Something about seeing a perfect blonde doll choosing to age and be human realllly got to her. Helen wasn’t peachy keen either, but Mad? Mad was inconsolable, though maybe that was because she didn’t book the part either

In their immortality, they’ve both gone through many hobbies and crafts. Some have been more successful than others. Madeline is actually a decent oil painter and Helen crotchets at the speed of light.

Helen is the queen of night owls. Three a.m., a fresh cuppa, and her laptop and it’s a GO

They (mostly Madeline) are constantly researching and browsing new spray paints like a makeup catalogue. “This one is such wonderful rouge with a lovely eggshell finish!”

Madeline owns ZERO denim

Reverse psychology via Helen if anything has to get done ever

You better believe Madeline’s vanity wins over her pride, as in she still has her Razzie awards (though they are buried in the depths of her closet)

Whenever she gets new damage, Madeline insists Helen needs to kiss it and make it better, “Mad you can’t feel anything you’re dead - and you know it’s not gonna heal, there is no making it better” “Just give me the attention Hel”

“Helen, Hel, Helen, Helen, Helly, Helen, Hel’s Bells, Helen, Helen, Hel-“ “What Mad?!” “Hi” (this happens several times a day)

Madeline had a degree in hogging the covers, not because she can even get cold, but she likes the fluffiness

Their coffee orders are as follows: Madeline with a iced strawberry frappe with extra whipped cream. Helen with black tea no sugar cream or a chai latte with oat milk

Speaking off, Helen? Yearns for dairy. So so so should not have dairy.

After everything that…happened Madeline has a healthy fear of staircases and lightning (it has spread to bad omens) and Helen has a…distaste for umbrellas.

Madeline. Pouting. Need I say more?

Back to driving, Madeline was borne to be a passenger princess, forced to be the primary driver. After Helen hit her 70th curb and dented Mad’s car…her chauffeuring days are over.

It’s tradition that after they visit their graves, they have a “memorial meal” and yap about old times

Remember Helens little cutie beret (dumb hat according to Mad)?? There’s a collection of little dumb hats, including a velvet cloche one Mad had a custom made for her

Cats. A long haired Persian, a sphinx that looks like raw chicken (both picked out by Mad) and a little black cat Helen found in a dumpster, chiding Mads initial distaste with, “you two should get along, similar homes and all”

The consistent back and forth of a kiss followed by “Hel you smudged my paint!!” “Whoopsie”

[mamayura]

Revelator analysis: Marinette remembering the Umbrella scene incorrectly

You know what I find really interesting about the interview scene in "Revelator" where Adrinette retells how they met? Marinette is actually getting a few details wrong.

Mind you, no deal breakers. She got all the emotional beats down accurately. And I will only truly take this as canon anyway when the French original has her misremember things the same way. But for now, it's really interesting that MARINETTE is the one who gets a couple of details wrong about the moment she fell SO in love with Adrien, while Adrien himself is out here making no such mistake in the whole interview:

This is correct. Simple as that.

This one... is on very thin ice. In reality, Marinette had just left the building and noticed it was raining when Adrien started talking to her. Yes, she was ready to wait until the rain stopped, but she never truly got to the waiting part:

But, by all means, if this were only this detail, I wouldnt make this post right now. Even if, factually, she didnt wait, she just noticed it was raining and thought she had to wait.

But let's get back to this later because there is another layer to this that was the catalyst for me writing this. But for now, moving on:

This is correct again. Adrien, in fact, had an umbrella.

But here is the thing:

This is... straight up wrong. Objectively. What Marinette reacted negatively to was Adrien trying to be friendly and saying "Hi" to her:

He only offered his umbrella at the end, so Marinette claiming so confidently in "Revelator" that she at first turned down the umbrella is false. Adrien opened it for himself because he was the one standing in the rain for a bit while explaining his perspective:

I sure don't see any umbrellas being turned down here, Marinette. So what exactly are you remembering? Just saying.

From this point onwards, the Adrinette interview is accurate again because 1) it's about the emotional core of it, and 2) well, Adrien is then talking the most because it's about him and Marinette is mostly just adding to it. So, yeah...

Look, I don't wanna say that this is some deep betrayal of love and proof that Marinette's love for Adrien isnt real. Of course not. And again, there is still the chance that the line in question is right in the French original (though, I do gotta say, I doubt it because that would change the natural flow of the conversation)

I just find it interesting that the thing about THE Umbrella scene that Marinette gets wrong is the UMBRELLA itself and how and when it was extended to her.

Cause, well... This is not a documentary. Marinette is not a real life person who can mix some things up without it meaning anything. She's the main character and the main narrative tool of the story.

This is the moment SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH ADRIEN. Pretty much 80% of what she does in this show goes back to this moment. In story-telling practice, yes, her being the one who recalls that moment incorrectly should mean something.

Bad faith reading: it's a major indicator that Marinette is actually not as invested in Adrien and their relationship anymore as she was once upon a time. Her needs and desires have changed and that's causing problems now.

Good faith reading (and I genuinely mean good faith reading. Fucking BEST faith reading, in my opinion):

The details that Marinette gets wrong about the Umbrella scene actually correspond with the ending of "Strike Back" where Marinette's lightning moment happened with Chat Noir:

Cause if you combine Marinette's memories of the Umbrella scene with the Strike Back scene, then, yes, Marinette WOULD remember standing way longer in the RAIN before Adrien eventually came to her:

Not because that's how it factually happened in "Origins", but because she was alone in the rain for a solid bit before Chat Noir arrived in "Strike Back".

But the most important thing is that, if you combine the two lightning scenes, this objectively incorrect line actually checks out again:

Because the moment Marinette fell in love with Chat Noir was about him having extended his hand several times but her having pushed him away and held at arms length:

Marinette in the Umbrella scene didnt turn down Adrien's umbrella. Not only because that simply didnt happen, but also because Adrien only had the opportunity to offer it ONCE which she then immediately took. Chat Noir, on the other hand (is that a pun?), did offer the gesture she then fell in love with more than once, which she initially turned down, but eventually accepted.

So, again, worst faith reading: we were supposed to pick up on Marinette remembering the iconic Umbrella scene incorrectly which is supposed to subtly tell us that life has changed Marinette's feelings for Adrien for the worse because she's simply not the girl she was a year ago and the love she once wanted doesnt fit her needs anymore, so it's fading and getting drowned out.

Best faith reading: It's a subtle hint that the love she once wanted doesnt really fit her needs anymore, but the one that does more and more now is Chat Noir who, as we all know, is Adrien Agreste.

Though, no matter which one it is, one truth remains: Marinette remembered the UMBRELLA SCENE wrong and that means something.

[irlyluvosamu]

a/n: theres a word limit, and i dont have enough space to add all the ninjas in one whole post, so we're doing this in parts of two. hence; series! part one will be lloyd and jay :) also this is mostly my old writing, words may not be spelled correctly.

pairing: lloyd and jay x reader ( separate )

warnings: none really, more like i cant remember lol

just enjoy (╥﹏╥)

 · It took him so long to consider liking you. He's been through so much, especially after Harumi, he's scared to fall in love again. 

 · But he's been with you, even before Harumi and he knows you're not a bad person. He just has some trust issues her's trying t deal with. 

 · Harumi kinda broke him :/

 · After considering his crush on you, it was Jay and Kai's mission to make him confess to you. Nya was with you on the other end. You told her you liked Lloyd for while and she had the biggest, dorkiest smile on her face as she squealed and hugged you. 

 · When Jay confessed to her, she was speechless, she can only imagine the pain you feel not being able to tell the person you liked them. 

 · Confessing to you was the hardest thing he's ever had to do. He would stammer on his words, make weird Lloyd noises like groans or whines when he messed up on a simple sentence, and his face would be as red as a tomato. 

 · You felt stunned when Lloyd stood in front of you waiting for a response. You would say nothing but give him a hug and said 'I love you too, Lloyd.' and he had tears of joy falling from his eyes.

 · Nya, Kai, and Jay would be in the back hiding, spying on the too. When they say them hug and kiss each other on the lips, Jay jumped out a screamed "LET'S GOO!!" 

 · Durning the relationship, Lloyd would be the sweetest boyfriend even though he has no clue what he's doing. He wants to give you the world, but has no idea how to do that. 

 · He's also not the best with PDA. He's never received much as a kid, so he gets a bit jumpy when someone hugs him by surprise or when he holds someone for a certain amount of time.

 · Comic store dates>>>

 · He has no idea how to plan a date, so he normally asks if you want to go to the comic book store with him and you'll go from there.

 · One time a date ended with you both getting ice cream and taking a walk around the beach docks. Wanting to take a peaceful selfie of you and him and a sudden seagull came and snatched his ice cream right out of his cone, hitting him in the face.

 · You now have a photo of a burry Lloyd losing a fight to a seagull while your in the back scared but laughing at the same time. 

 · You taught Lloyd how to ride a bike. When he was still younger you noticed how little he knew about riding a bike, so when he grew you were able to show him and he got a little bit embarrassed when the guys found out.

 · When you both sleep, Lloyd's normally the first to wake up but he's  g r u m p y !!! 

 · He wakes up because of training and because of that he's kinda forgotten how to sleep in in the mornings. Hence why's he's so tired in the mornings and sometimes afternoons? 

 · He's also nervous to cuddle you while you sleep, but it's cute when they guys catch him snuggling into him like a cat in the mornings. He tends to cuddle into you during your and his sleep, it's so cute to catch. 

 · Did I mention he's a cat person? Lol

 · Run your fingers through his hair, tell him he's worth it, just make him feel proud of himself and he'll be wrapped around your finger just like that.

 · He's willing to do anything for you, do the same for him!

 · Non-stop kisses. Whenever he sees you you better be ready to be bombarded by kisses to the lips, cheeks, nose, and even forehead from the Lightning Ninja!

 · He likes to sneak up behind you and give you surprise kisses on the cheek. He loves seeing the way you jump forward when he scares you and when he sees that blush that forms on your face? He's gonna 'awe' at it and poke your cheek.

 · He was the first one to confess to you. It was actually not planned out even though he did plan it out with the help from Kai and Cole, but of course, it backfired during a 'date' Kai and Cole made up for the two of you.

 · He ended up blurbing it out all in one breath-

  · "Y/NITHINKYOURTHEMOSTAMAZINGPERSONINTHEWORLDANDIDONTKNOWWHATIWOULDOIFINNEVERMETYOU!YOURTHEBESTPERSONIHAVEEVERMETANDIWANTEDTOTELLYOUILOVEDYOUFORSOLONGBUTIDIDN'TKNOWIFYOUFELTTHESAMEFORME!SOIUNDERSTANDIFYOU-"

 · You shut him by placing a gentle kiss on his lips, pulling away, and giving him the sweetest of smiles. "I love you too, JJ." 

 · The amount of confidence he's got now because of that moment>>

 · Kai got a bit jealous when he was told Jay was able to get himself a lover before him, and Jay took advantage of that always giving you a quick kiss on the lips when Kai walks by, wrapping an arm around your waist during movie night and seeing the angry look Kai gave him. 

 · Jay never felt more pleased- PFT

 · Kai soon found Skylor and his jealousy was soon gone. 

· Dates happen more often than you think. He takes you to the movies, gets some food, but he's sometimes broke and only has enough for take-out and you both sit in your room in your apartment and watch some Netflix. 

 · You both like to help PIXAL repair some of the vehicles. The Bounty is the main vehicle you repair. The Super Sonic Radar is also one of them and Jay adores the time you both have while PIXAL'S basically third-wheeling. 

 · If you go to school, Jay loves to walk with you. He'll offer to carry your bags, books, heck he even offered to carry you! 

 · When you make it to school, Jay acts like it's the last time he'll ever see you again.

 · 'Do you haaave to go? I'll be alone allll day without your cuddles." 

 · He gave you the cutest of puppy dog eyes, but you tried to endure it and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, "I'll be back later, Jay. Don't get your bolts in a knot!"

 · You came back and he tackles you, every daywhen you come home it's adorable.

 · His favorite place to kiss you has got to be your nose. The way it scrunches up is so cute he can kiss it all day. His hands are on your cheeks, but they're sometimes also in your hair or hands. 

 · He's a cuddle bug, if you haven't already known, he can hug you all day and he will! One morning he refused to remove himself from your touch, so he rolled onto your back and you struggled to stand up...but once you did you basically gave him a piggyback ride until it was time to train. 

 · For breakfast he just chewed on a piece of buttered toast and Zane was not pleased. He told Jay to eat a proper breakfast but Jay was too into the toast and your warm touch to listen to the Nindroid. 

 · Speaking of mornings, Jay takes up almost the entire bed it's so hard to share one with him, but you're able to somehow get some room, but his hand is smacking you in the face and his legs are tangled with yours. Thank god you are used to it.

 · When he wakes up there's drool on the sheets but he just wipes it down with his hands and turns back onto his back where he accidentally pushes you off the bed now he's awake when he hears a loud thud and you standing up with a scream causing him to scream.

 · You rarely cuddle in the morning because one Jay pushed you out of bed and two you're both wide awake. 

 · He uses such dorky nicknames like, what??

 · " Hey Cutie Patootie!  "Snuggle Muffin"   

       ( or if your a boy )

 · "Mister Man"  "Baby Boy"

 · He's cringe but that's okay 

[oceantornadoo]

the ex-wife chronicles pt.2 (ex husband!john price x f!reader)

masterlist | next

follow and turn on notifications: @tornadoowarning

The first few days go how you expect them to. Day one is a joke of a team briefing since half the team isn’t there. You make both John and Sergeant Garrick explain what happened and why team bonding is necessary. You’ve found that soldiers view themselves as battering rams, not stopping to acknowledge their scars when there’s more doors to break down. The whole day, spent mostly with you lecturing about safe spaces and ‘shrink bullshit’, is emotionally exhausting. That’s why you end it by pulling out a bottle of wine in the name of team bonding, you and Sergeant Garrick spread out on the living room floor while John smokes in a recliner nearby. 

John hates wine. You know this.

You remove the cork with your switchblade anyways, taking a swig before passing it to Sergeant Garrick. If you were younger and greener, he’d be your type. Pretty and hurting, desperate for someone to put him back together but too proud to ask his team to be the one to do it. It was the same thing you saw in John ten-odd years ago, the pair of you two new Sergeants begging to be seen in very different ways. Sergeant Garrick offers the bottle to John and he takes it, only sipping a little before handing it back to you. Your hands resolutely do not brush.

“For what it’s worth,” you hold back a hiccup after another swig of wine, “I am sorry for what happened to Sergeant MacTavish. You almost lost a brother-in-arms and here I am, making you talk about it.” Sergeant Garrick snatches the bottle out of your grip and takes a long pull. “You can call him Soap an’ me Gaz. No sense in stayin’ professional, ma’am.” Gaz shoots you a grin and a wink before handing the bottle to his captain. You nod your thanks. “You don’t need to call me ma’am. I stopped chasing titles a long time ago.” You refuse to look at John when you say it. Gaz’s eyes bounce between the two of you before focusing back on the wine, stealing it from his captain’s hands. “So what’s your background?” Gaz asks, eyebrows raised curiously.

You count the years on your fingers. “Joined up. Made Sergeant. Hated it. Got recruited for a joint stealth mission with the Americans, which is where I met Laswell. She pulled these strings to let me pursue field psychiatry on a promise that I use my skills wherever she asks. Once I finished training, I’ve been doin’ this for the last few years.” You hiccup on the last word. “I’ve never slept in the same building as the team, though. Or done it for two months. Longest has been three weeks. Guess this is new for all of us.” The admission thaws the ice a little. Even John takes a deep breath as the three of you watch the smoke curl off his cigar. Gaz pats his thighs before standing up. “I’m wrecked from all the travel. See you two in the mornin’. Sir. Doc.” You wave your goodbyes as he treks to his bedroom on the opposite end of the building.

“Ever get married again?” John’s voice grumbles like a freight train from the chair he sits in, above and across from you. You shake your head, snatching the wine bottle from where it stands on the small coffee table. “Too busy. You?” He shakes his head once, twice, before taking a pull of his cigar. “Married to the job.” You snort at his admission, blaming it on the wine. “So cliche.” You murmur, staring at your reflection in the glass of the bottle. It’s almost empty, and you wonder how much you both drank.

Exhaustion hits suddenly like a lightning strike. You yawn and stretch, then slowly climb into a standing position. “I’ve been up for 24 hours now. I’m too pampered for this much sleep-deprivation.” John’s beard pulls up on the right, like he’s smiling at your self-depreciation. It gives you confidence to walk to where he sits on his plastic throne, smoke concealing bits of his face. You hand him the wine bottle and he takes it gladly, fingers brushing yours. You step closer until your knees hit the fabric of the recliner, forcing him to spread his legs. John doesn’t complain.

“You ever get that greater good you were searchin’ for?” You murmur, holding his gaze. He doesn’t answer, simply raising his cigar to his lips. “You find that purpose you were lookin’ for?” He asks, a non-answer. You simply stare at each other. You bet his greater good didn’t include one of his men almost dying. Your purpose did not include the lack of roots you feel everyday. His knees inch closer together, a hair's breadth away from yours. Neither of you move, breaths syncing as you just look. At the new wrinkles on his forehead, at the stupid hat he’s wearing, at the stray grays in his beard. At the smile lines and the healed scars. At the lack of a wedding band on his ring finger.

“Night, John.”

“Night, Doc.” A sliver of a smile finds a home on the curve of your cheek. You turn around and go to bed.

-

The rest of the week goes pretty much according to plan. A guided meditation outside the barracks when the weather turns nice. The three of you review past missions, discussing group tactics and communication styles. They try to fill in the gaps of Ghost (you’re not stupid enough to call him Lieutenant Riley) and Soap, demonstrating the normal dynamics. You keep reminding them that there is a new normal, a fact they don’t like to hear.

When Friday rolls around, you tell Gaz he has the weekend off. John quickly counters by reminding him of his responsibilities at the main base. Gaz locks eyes with you and you hold in a giggle at his attitude. John stays silent. After a team dinner that night (boxed mac and cheese, loads better than whatever the mess hall is serving), Gaz begs off for plans with some sergeants on the main base. You fish out your newest literature purchase and bring it to the living room, stopping when you see John already watching something on TV. Before you can turn around, he calls out to you.

“Stay.” You freeze, shoulders bunched to your ears. “You sure? I don’t want to encroach on your alone time.” John shakes his head and gestures to the empty couch. You plop down, setting your book down and fishing out the notebook you had tucked under it. “So,” John looks up apprehensively. “We never had our 1-on-1.” He sighs dramatically. “Can’t this wait until Monday?” You shake your head decisively. “Ghost and Soap are coming Monday. It’ll be too busy. You wouldn’t want me to forget, would you?” All he does is stare. You shrug.

“How have you been sleeping?”

“Fine.”

“8 hours of uninterrupted REM?”

“Sure.”

“And what about during the day? Do you feel yourself drifting off?”

“Nope.”

You glare at him. It doesn’t have the full effect when you’re clad in sweats.

“John, I’m here to help you. I know you’ll be speaking with a specialized therapist next week, but I need a good understanding of where you’re at so I can help the team heal.” You know from a private conversation with Gaz that he hasn’t been sleeping, and you suspect the same might be the case for John. Gaz has been sensitive to sound, mainly the ticking clock of a bomb, and you can only wonder what John is feeling. Even though you aren’t their main therapist, your job is to understand how their personal needs can translate into a solution for the group. They need sleep to be efficient soldiers and at the end of the day, your job is to make them ready for the field.

John changes the channel on the TV, stopping on a rerun of a footie game. The two of you watch in silence for a few minutes, little figurines dancing athletically across the screen. “Most I get is four hours. Sometimes I’ll call the night shift nurses to make sure Soap’s alive. Stand outside Gaz’s room to hear him breathin’. Feels like everytime I take a break, I’m leavin’ them behind.” You hum thoughtfully. 

“There are a lot of captains out there that don’t have as nearly as much dedication that you do to their team.” Is what you say eventually. His therapist will be the one to give him sleep tips and such. He needs to learn from you what being a Captain means for men that have returned changed. “Lot of good that’s done me.” He grunts, eyes focused on the screen. “I think you know Soap’s injury wasn’t directly your fault. But, you’re associating it with the fact that you weren’t there, which means you need to be there all the time. I’m hoping I’ll help you trust them to survive on their own.” Again, is what you mean to say, but you don’t know enough of their prior dynamics to trust that word has meaning. From what Laswell has told you, he’s always been somewhat of a father to his team, more involved in this task force then when he’s managed others.

“You have a team of your own?” John asks, not responding to your other statement. You shake your head, curling into the sofa with your book in your lap. You scribble a bit of what he said down in the notebook, then tuck it away so he doesn’t feel like he’s being therapized. “Just me and my handlers, including Laswell.” John scratches his beard thoughtfully. “Sounds lonely.” You know it’s not an insult but his gaze meets the book and your lap and it’s like a brand. A callback to a marriage years ago between two kids who thought their loneliness was solved by each other. Now you’re defensive about seeming to not have upgraded since then. “Being a Captain sounds pretty lonely too.” You say, with too much bite. John shakes his head, his facial expression hidden by darkness. He reaches for the remote and turns off the TV, muscles straining as he goes to stand. 

“John, I didn’t mean-” 

“Enjoy your book, Doc. Might be the last bit of peace you get for a while.”

He doesn’t say goodnight.

-

these chapters are gonna be short lol

[cast-iron-bug]

I return from the dead with MORE ICE EMPEROR! HOW SUPRISING!!!✨❄️

Thought I’d finally share my head cannons for this creature and for how the staff of forbidden spinjitsu works so HERE WE GO-

❄️ when each ninja holds the staff, their elements burst to life all around them, most notably through their hair. Lloyd and Kai’s looks same as the show, though Kai’s hair is smoldering a bit more and smoky, and Lloyd’s is flickered with gold. Everyone else is different! Nya’s hair swirls with clouds and mist like a brewing storm, jay’s hair stands on end as the lightning makes the lights flicker, and Zane’s hair floats and glitters like the northern lights, leaving lil flurries behind him as he walks! This effect looks even cooler when he grows his hair out as the ice emperor.

✨when Zane crash lands into the neverrealm, the fall leaves a serious wound on his right temple. This badly damages his right eye, making his vision unpredictable and his eye noticeably glitching out.

❄️ Zane was built to be as convincingly human as possible- because of this he mimics different symptoms to communicate what kind of damage he has. For example, when he has malware or a virus, Zane will run a fever, cough or sneeze. He shivers on the rare occasion his powers become too overwhelming and, in the case of the fore mentioned head trauma, Zane will show concussion symptoms- such as his pupils being “blown” (two different sizes). Also yes his hair does grow. He doesn't know how to take care of it as the emperor so it grows tangled and matted but it grows nonetheless

✨the effects of the scroll are a slow burn! Sure the effects are noticed almost immediately, but the damage it does is slow and not easily reversed: therefore contributing to my “Zane does not turn back into “Zane” after he drops the staff” bit! The effects linger- Zane’s hair flickering with power when he’s upset, his powers responding in a similar way to season one- where he’d freeze the training grounds over. He leaves frozen footsteps wherever he goes, freezes over on occasion(mostly along his face when he cries) and if you were to tousle his hair it’d start snowing indoors. ❄️ I love the “Zane committed active genocide alongside vex and is horribly traumatized by it” trope I see in fics a lot, but I also found myself wanting to work with the concussed, sleepy boi we got in the show! So Im developing an AU that meets sort of a middle ground: with Zane participating in the first decade or two of war, but slowly becoming sicker and more manic and paranoid the further into his rule he goes. When he is not asleep, the emperor is pacing the castle in unrest, the walls creaking as he spirals in the warped memory of the lies vex had told him and the realm continues to freeze solid.

That’s all I got for now! Feel free to use any of these in your own works- just be sure to tag me bc I’d love to see it! I’ll be adding to this and tweaking it as I develop this au more… in fact lemme know if any of y’all come up with a name for an au like this!

….and if you read this far- holy guacamole thanks I guess!

[cressidagrey]

Lightning in the Bottle - Chapter 8

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was actually pretty much useless. The only thing she wanted was to be somebody's first choice for once in her life.

Also known as: Azriel's shadows decide that if he doesn't treat his mate right... they'll just do it for him.

Warnings: Panic attacks, Nyx being adorable...

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Terror was clawing its way up her chest. Her heart…her whole body. 

And Eira was frozen in place, unable to move…unable to do anything…unable to…

They had appeared out of nowhere. Winnowing right in front of her, wearing these violently dark uniforms, knives and swords strapped to their forms. 

Not Illyrian fighting leathers. She had gotten used to these over the years. In a way, they had even become safe to her. Illyrian Fighting leathers reminded her of a male with dark bat-like wings, green eyes and the gentlest, scarred hands one could imagine. 

These…these were different. 

The shadows had screamed at her to run. 

So she had. She had clutched Nyx to herself, had lifted him out of that swing and had fled, knowing that she had no chance…

And then…then… screaming and terror…something inside her had given way. 

She didn’t know what. 

She didn’t know how. 

She just knew that when the first male grasped her arm…He only had time for one scream, before dropping to the floor…lightning crackled from her skin to him, forcing him down to his knees, Nyx screaming in her arms…

Number 2 had gotten the knife into her, the pain blooming with a sudden stab as the shadows managed to pull him back…

She had known then that that knife was going to be her death…

And then the magic had lashed out as she had gone down, shielding Nyx between her own body and the ground, the pain sparking inside her and making everything…everything growing hazy. 

The magic had taken over…

The lightning had snapped out from high heavens, hitting numbers three and four…and their screams…horrific …they were burned into her brain. 

*Eira. Eira, listen to me.* She knew that voice. 

She knew that voice. But Rhysand didn’t talk to her like that. Not that gently…not that worriedly. Not…like that. 

Mostly she just annoyed him. 

*It’s only a memory, nobody can hurt you,* he insisted. 

He was lying. Everything hurt. Everything was…

*Wake up.* He dragged her right out of it, back to…back to something else, back to…back to reality, back to her life, back to…

She woke up. 

And then the reality of the situation hit her and she vomited over the bedside, her chest caving in with her sobs.

She had killed three people. 

She had killed them. 

Not even on purpose, she had just wanted to get away, get Nyx safe…but she had killed them. With nary a thought…felled them with magic, with lightning that had crackled from her very fingertips, burnt them to a crisp like they were a piece of meat, not even a human being with friends and family and feelings…she had…

She had killed them. 

Nyx. Where was Nyx? 

“Nyx is fine. Not a scratch on him. Thanks to you,” Rhysand’s voice came again and she was still retching, still feeling bile rise in her throat…even when she felt the cool midnight darkness of his magic, felt him clean up the vomit with nary a thought…

She smelled snow and ice and lilac and pear and her eyes weakly lifted to find Nesta…her sister, reaching out for her, hovering, not daring to touch her. 

The tears came, a hysterical sob building in her throat. 

“I killed them,” Eira choked out. “I killed them.” She had ended 3 lives. She had murdered them, ended their lives, she had…

“You’re alright, it’s alright, Eira,” Feyre’s voice reached her, her sister’s soft hands, gently cradling her head, pulling her back to lay down properly, enveloping her in her arms. 

“I killed them. I killed them,” she whimpered, repeating the words, again and again and again. She had killed them. 

She hadn’t wanted to kill them. She had just wanted…she had just wanted…

“I know. I know you did,” Feyre whispered soothingly. “It’s alright.”

“You did what you had to,” Nesta said quietly, a warm hand rubbing her back as she clung to Feyre, clung to her little sister as tightly as she could, her hands fisting in Feyre’s shirt. “You saved Nyx’s life, you saved your own life, Eira. You did what you had to. Nobody is faulting you for that.”

She had killed them. 

“I didn’t want to kill them,” she choked out weakly, the sobs building in her chest so strongly, so harshly…

She hadn’t wanted to kill the. She had never wanted to kill anybody. She despised violence. She had never wanted to be in a position where she needed that. The war against Hybern had turned her stomach in more ways than one and she couldn’t…

“I know. I know,” Feyre promised her, as Eira’s tears wet her shirt, scalding against her skin. Eira couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop sobbing…the grief overcoming her. 

Grief for them and grief for herself. 

“I killed them!” she wailed, the noise bursting out of her throat, so harshly, so shocking, her whole body shaking.  

She could hear a growl, that just made her heart start racing in her chest, everything suddenly even more terrifying, suddenly, too much, too…

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” Nesta whispered.  But she couldn’t. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t. 

“That won’t help,” Rhys said quietly, his voice sounding far, far away…“She’s hysterical.”

*Eira,* his voice in her head but she couldn’t listen. *Eira. Listen to me.*

She couldn’t. 

She heard more voices but no words, and then…“Just three drops under her tongue…it should take away the worst.”

She didn’t know what it was…what kind of bitter-tasting liquid Feyre forced into her mouth…

Just that suddenly…Everything grew hazy around the edges. Unfocused. Fear blunted, everything blunted…her emotions far, far away from her…her sobbing far removed, as she weakly clung to her sister, thick, heady tiredness enveloping her. 

“There we go,” the same voice said softly. 

“Feyre?” her voice was thick in her mouth, not listening to her. 

“I am sorry,” Feyre apologised, her voice tearful and Eira struggled to open her eyes, failing. “I am here. It’s alright.”

“I am sorry,” she mumbled out. “I couldn’t protect Nyx. I tried.”

A soft gasp from Feyre, then…“You protected him. You protected him,” she promised her fiercely. 

She had? 

A shudder came over her body and she shivered, a whimper leaving her mouth. 

Suddenly she felt the brush of these shadows again at her wrist, a thick blanket being dragging over her form…it was…

“Just rest. It’s alright,” Nesta soothed her. “Just sleep. It’s alright.”

She wasn’t sure how long she slept…how long she slid back into the darkness that was welcoming and sweet and safe and sound, and everything that being awake wasn’t…

Eira blinked open her eyes again, to her room that was filled with sunlight. 

Tears still bit in the corners of her eyes. Especially when she found her sister sitting next to her quietly, holding her hand and staring out of the window. 

“Nesta?” her voice was rough with disuse and Nesta’s eyes immediately snapped to her. 

“How are you feeling?” Nesta asked immediately and she blinked back the tears, not wanting…not wanting Nesta to tell her that all of this was ridiculous and that Eira shouldn’t behave like a child. 

She already had done that, hadn’t she? When she had hysterically cried over everybody about her killing…

She forced herself not to think about this, because even just that made tears appear in her eyes. 

“Breathing hurts,” she said instead, a hand pressing against her ribs and hissing at the contact. 

Was that were…

“Madja left you a tincture against it. It will probably hurt for a few more days…the knife was poisoned,” Nesta answered gently. Gently? Nesta never was gentle. 

Some things just didn’t go together. Like her oldest sister talking to her gently. Nesta was forceful and blunt and not…gentle. 

The door opened and her head snapped around, tears immediately running over her face as she saw the little boy on her sister’s hips, wings fluttering excitedly. 

“Ra Ra!” he cheered. 

Not a scratch on him. Nothing. 

Unharmed. Not hurt, not…

Feyre brought him over, Nyx already holding out his hands for her and then throwing his arms around her neck as she breathed in that sweet scent of childhood that clung to him, closing her eyes as the tears leaked from them. 

“Oh Nyx,” she whispered, one hand coming up to curl into the shirt she had made for him, embroidered across the hem with little moons and stars…

“He was inconsolable,” Feyre said softly. “When you were…unconscious. He was so worried,” she said softly, a hand gently carding through her son’s thick midnight hair, and then reaching out to wipe away the tears from Eira’s face, as she buried her face against Nyx’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“She says that breathing hurts,” Nesta reported.

“Madja left you something to take against that,” Feyre said quickly. But it was Azriel’s shadows that brought over a little potion bottle and tipped it against her lips so all she needed to do was to swallow as they poured it into her mouth. 

“Thank you,” she said weakly as they pulled back, the bitter taste a small price to pay for the relief against the burning pain that she felt near her heart. 

She caught the look her sisters exchanged and she couldn’t help but feel protective. 

“What?” she asked, wishing she could cross her arms but instead just able to press a kiss to Nyx’s brow, as he settled comfortably to cuddle with her. 

“Nothing,” Feyre said quickly. 

“Just…Since when do you have Azriel’s shadows doting on you?” Nesta asked, making a face that…

Feyre pulled a grimace. Probably about Eira leaving Azriel in peace. 

Eira was going to do that. But she couldn’t help it if his shadows wanted to hang out with her.  

“They came a few days ago. They are lovely. And they don’t dote on me,” she corrected Nesta quietly. “They just like to keep me company.”

“We…need to have a talk, Eira,” Feyre said quietly. 

She swallowed. She could just imagine what that talk would consist of. She didn’t want to have this talk. She didn’t want to…But she probably deserved it. Deserved whatever Feyre wanted to throw at her head. Whatever her sister had to tell her…

“I am so sorry,” Eira blurted out. 

Nesta stared at her like she had gone insane. 

“What? Why?” she demanded. 

“I shouldn’t have taken Nyx to that playground. And I should have been more careful and if you never want me to…” Feyre interrupted her before Eira could continue that tirade. 

She could understand if her sister didn’t trust her to watch Nyx anymore. It would break her heart, but she could understand it. She was supposed to protect him and she had failed. 

“You asked me if you could take him to that playground, Eira. I gave you permission,” Feyre cut her off. “None of this is your fault. Keir sent them to…to hurt Nyx. You did nothing wrong, Eira. Nothing at all,” her sister assured her with wide blue eyes. 

It just made her feel worse. “I should have…” she tried another feeble protest. She should have…

“What else could you have done, what you didn’t do?” Feyre challenged her sharply.  “You protected him, you took a knife to your heart so that he would be safe, Eira. What else could I possibly ask of you?” her sister demanded. “You did everything perfectly.”

And she had killed three men. 

It was still there, in the forefront of her mind. Always. 

“When you were unconscious…” Feyre said quietly, trailing off…”Rhys tried to take your pain away from you. It’s a skill he has since he’s a daemati. But he…he wasn’t careful enough and your mental shields were nonexistent…He got dragged into your memories.”

“What?” she breathed out, tears immediately burning in her eyes, just as embarrassment and shame burned into her chest. 

What had he seen? 

Had he seen…had he seen her fledgling little feelings for…Had he seen that? Something she wished she could protect with her life so that nobody was ever going to use that to tease her? 

She knew she had no chance, she didn’t need her sister's mate to tell her that either. She didn’t need him to know about any of this…couldn’t she at least have that? 

It was embarrassing enough without anybody knowing the full extent of it…without anybody knowing all the embarrassing little daydreams she had about him. 

“He’s really sorry,” Feyre said with a grimace. “He’ll tell you that himself, but we thought it was best not to overwhelm you…”

There was nothing she could do against it anymore, was it? It was done. Rhys probably had had a front-row seat to every single embarrassing and childish little daydream she had had about his brother and Eira was never going to be able to look him in the face again. 

She could probably expect another intervention, after Feyre’s and Elain’s. Just that this time it would be High Lord shaped and he would probably threaten her to leave his spymaster in peace otherwise she would also be shipped off to the House of Wind or something. 

“It’s fine,” she said weakly, instead. It wasn’t. But what else was she supposed to say? 

What else…

“It’s not his fault. He just wanted to help,” she tacked on to the end of it…and then, with a sudden realization… ”Where’s Elain?” she asked, staring at Nesta and Feyre who exchanged another look that she couldn’t read. What was going on?

“In Day Court with Lucien,” Feyre answered quickly. “That’s also something we would like to talk to you about.”

“What, why? Is she alright?” Eira demanded. Was it wedding stuff? Had something happened? 

If something happened, Elain was going to have a meltdown. Or rather another one. Another one that was going to make her get huffy about lilies look like children's play.  

“She’s…She’s fine,” Nesta said, her tone clipped. “It’s…complicated.”

“What’s complicated?” Eira asked sharply. Nyx whimpered against her, and she dropped her voice. “What happened?”

“When Rhys saw your memories,” Feyre said carefully. “He saw…how horrible everybody has been treating you,” she said in a whisper, staring at Eira with tearful eyes. 

“What?”  How who had been treating her…what exactly did Rhys see? 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Nesta asked sharply.

“Say what?” Eira asked, not understanding what they meant. What was there problem? What has she done? 

“Why didn’t you tell us how you were feeling, Eira?” Feyre repeated, her voice soft…coaxing. “Why didn’t you tell me what…Why didn’t you tell me how horrible everybody was treating you? Why did you just suffer that all in silence? I am so sorry.”