#writing snippet for fun

[undignifiend]

(While no main characters are involved, I wrote this imagining it in a Tales of Arcadia AU as a highly unlikely event wherein my pet idiots escape the Darklands - possibly with the rest of the Gumm-Gumm army, but if so, they're all laying extremely low - and somehow get acquainted with some random Arcadian. What started out as a practical contact for recon purposes somehow develops into a weird friendship over time.)

(I'm not a story analyst/critic and neither are any of my trollish muses. This lot had opinions - especially Zahn, he's a professional yapper - so i wrote them down for fun.)

+++++

A beat of silence followed the start of the credits; the latest in a series of horror films Valerie's adoptive group of subterranean hooligans had expressed curiosity in. While the horror-movie binge was a favorite October tradition, Valerie hadn't been all too keen on this particular film. 

She'd seen it once before and was left feeling like she had missed something vital. Which usually meant another watch was worth it. Perhaps the team would help, but they were just as likely to argue each other in circles as they were to help each other comprehend messages and themes.

"Bitchin' soundtrack, at least," Dezoka remarked, big enough to have one arm spread across the back of the couch while she sat on the floor in front of it. Every line of her looked relaxed save for the displeased curl of her scarred lip.

"That's another word you shouldn't say around Danica," Valerie advised politely. 

The little girl Dezoka had brought to the Surface with her was asleep in the bedroom down the hall. And due to their keen hearing, each of the trolls seemed comfortable with a volume so low Valerie had needed subtitles.

"Initial thoughts?" Ulvek invited, sitting against the wall next to the couch. "Still gathering mine." Half the interest this team seemed to find in movies was in dissecting commentary on human perspectives, values, fears, and patterns. And practicing the local languages. A form of cultural recon.

"I got a piece of something, but it's not coherent yet," Zahn grunted, sprawled on the floor halfway through the open sliding glass doors to the backyard patio. At least it was a pleasantly cool night. It was the only way he'd fit.

"Right," Dezoka took point, as was her habit. "So, I thought it was commenting on how societal ills shape personal ones. How a culture that exploits and discards its environment, exploits and discards its people. And in such a societal 'winter,' the people are left to eat or be eaten under a system that only pays lip service to the same tragedies it causes, while ignoring and exacerbating them."

She threw her hands in the air with a tired snarl. "And then somewhere in the last half it seemed to lose the metaphor in favor of 'How Does Fight Big Monster'. What was the younger child's death supposed to represent in the midst of all that? It was the hardest part to watch."

"I know. Sounded just like a whelp in the end," Ulvek muttered, finished with the popcorn and giving Valerie's ceramic bowl a threateningly contemplative look. "Uncanny. They probably had a changeling on the design team."

"I'd bet on it," Dezoka insisted. "The whole 'Oops I transformed wrong and exploded my human body' is a pretty common nightmare, too." Her mane bristled for half a second and she cleared her throat. "That's what I heard."

"Uh-huh," Zahn grunted, half-distracted as he watched the credits and turned something over in his mind, drumming his claws against the carpet.

"Think it could be a metaphor for how a callous, colonial society demonizes people struggling with addiction and abuse?" Ulvek speculated uneasily before crunching the bowl. Valerie groaned in defeat. He didn't seem to notice, little ceramic chips tumbling from between his fangs as he continued crunching and talking. "But projecting colonial rhetoric onto a marginalized people's symbols - "

"Projection's the point!" Zahn erupted.

"Voices down," Valerie hissed.

"Right, fine," Zahn made an attempt to contain himself. It didn't look easy with that manic glint in his eyes. "But that's the protagonist's core issue, see? The story is as much about her interpretive frame as it is about everything within it. She keeps projecting her own experiences onto Lucas, and her own resentment onto her brother, and seems to have made up her mind that her brother didn't go through anything like what she did. She's so certain of what others are feeling and thinking, and I think that's what drives her to look at anyone she doesn't identify with to some degree as The Enemy. It allows her to wipe doubt from her mind, and act - and give up on people, no matter how much it pains her - with certainty."

"So, this is one of those ones where the protagonist is tragically wrong?" Ulvek hummed.

"It must be!" Zahn doubled down, thumping the floor with a fist. Pictures rattled on the wall, but otherwise held their places. "The story wants you to acknowledge that murdering a child - metaphorically or not - was not a necessary evil. She's simultaneously killing the last remaining shred of her own innocence in believing the child is too corrupted to save. As we established last week, human ideals don't really believe in necessary evil. Their stories overwhelmingly portray it as cowardice; choosing fear over love; a failure to commit to the righteous path; a justification used by villains, disguised as practicality. This story was sneaky about it. It let you see every step toward Julia's decision. Enough to keep you sympathetic with her. Enough to let you - however briefly - entertain the notion that she might be right."

Dezoka huffed sharply, a gesture Valerie had only seen before when the she-troll sparred. As if she was psyching herself up or pushing through pain. "So. This is about the pitfall where even those who have experienced trauma, can still sometimes demonize others with trauma."

"And in so doing, inflict further trauma," Ulvek noted.

"Perpetual trauma machine," Dezoka mused.

"Exactly!" Zahn snapped his fingers, and Valerie thought she could feel a small shockwave from it. "This story is about her own transformation. Abusers don't see themselves as monsters, they're always trying to justify their actions. And that's looking like the core of what humanity sees as a loss of humanity - or rather, their ideals. A loss of humility. She was so wrapped up in her certainty. In committing violence upon - what she saw as - the oversimplified representation of the violence that had been done to her, that she could no longer see the abuse she inflicts in turn on others who are experiencing their own traumas, for what it is! It was her lowest-point that she didn't even recognize! Her own moment of harming an innocent and telling herself she's right to do so. She's stuck in the past, thinks she knows best, that she's fighting her father, and can't accept that it's not all about her! Her brother was right! She couldn't even connect with him in that moment, and see that he'd been traumatized, too. She just stormed off and left him there, again! That hospital scene is the most important one in the whole film. Everything's right there!"

"Did you put catnip on your popcorn?" Dezoka demanded, an envious glint in her eyes.

"Hell yeah I did," Zahn preened. "Only it's not popcorn, it's drywall, and cigarettes from behind the gas station. Jealous?"

"Don't eat my drywall!" Valerie yelped. "What is this place to you, the goddamn gingerbread house?!"

"It's gas station drywall this time, I promise!" Zahn insisted at the same time as Ulvek gave her a cheerful "Yeah."

A tiresome round of bickering followed, during which Dezoka got up to go pillage the spice rack, garbage bin, and mini-fridge. Ulvek requested Suspiria next.

By the end of Suspiria's credits, Valerie found herself clinging to Dezoka's side. 

The she-troll had wrapped a heavy arm around her like a shield, but otherwise remained preoccupied with using a cruel looking knife to spear pieces of seasoned, throw-away gristle and giblets, and raw mushrooms she had foraged the previous night, and dipping them into a mixing-bowl of stout as if it were soy sauce.

All in mid-argument with Zahn over themes of survivor's guilt and whether or not the necessity of constant, renewed battle with the evils of the past represented an external form of that inner turmoil. Valerie was a little too stunned to keep up with the particulars, but couldn't shake the feeling that they had devolved into nitpicking over semantics again.

Ulvek started interjecting with theories on how that horrifying witchy dance-magic could actually work for real, and Valerie decided enough was enough.

"You know, how about we start watching things Danica can watch with us?" Valerie reasoned. "Let's analyze Bluey."

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Sapor

{The Apothecary Diaries / Reader}

《Coming back from your travels, you run into a familiar face...》

[2][3]

-

Blinking at him, you hold out the plate easily. "Here, this should put some meat on your bones." You glance back to the pot. The scent of spices and fried meat wafting through the area.

The male gulps, the aroma, while delicious, something was off.

You were a friend of the Apothecary Maomao, though not mentioned much. The few times he's ever heard of you; you were given the title of odd. Even SHE, had found you... Intriguing.

"Well?" You spare him a glance, keeping a steady rhythm when stirring the soup. 

The eunuch sweats as his eyes narrow to the food, squeamish.

Maomao looks away from him, trying to enjoy her meal in peace. She never thought the supposed cool head "Moon Prince", could be so picky. He tried the food at the market, so why now? Smirking at the flaw, Maomao thanks you in her thoughts.

"If you're that scared, it's alright." You state, peeking at Maomao, you note her joyous smile as she sips at the stew.

"But, I would have liked to share a meal with one of Xiaomao's friends."

You say with a soft grumble as the poor eunuch feels his heart race. Guilt clawing at his stomach as he lightly taps the wooden bowl.

Maomao deadpans at the tactic, while efficient (since it would often work with her), it was still bothersome to see.

The male grabs his spoon with a fidgeting hand. Dipping it lightly into the warm broth, he closes his eyes before taking a bite. Swallowing down the smooth flavorful liquid as his eyes open wide at the texture.

"...It's, delicious. Thank you." He smiled, stomach roaring at him for another bite.

"Oh? Good. I'm glad." You cease your stirring, going to the pan beside you. Lifting the lid as the sizzle of steam overtakes the room, you wave it down as you grab another plate.

"Here, 'had some leftover pork, thought' it'd be best to use it with company." You head over to the table, placing down the fried meat.

With a casual hand, you pat his shoulder kindly. Placing the items on the middle of the table for everyone to have.

Face flushed, he takes a eager bite of his meal. Unable to look you in the eye.

Maomao scrunches up her nose in distaste at the male. Stabbing into her portion of meat as she dismisses the idea... Choosing to ignore it and save the headache for another day.

-

"Huh... "Apprentice"...? You sure?" You ask the smaller human, chopping up some cabbage as she hands you another. "You told me that you would cease your traveling for the time being. Possibly an opportunity to learn of the culinary dishes in the palace as well."

"Hmm.." You knew there was more to it than that, but you didn't ask. Grabbing a few plates, you lay the grilled meat onto the porcelain.

"Alright, do I need a interview?"

"You passed the first step." She eyes your actions. "You have skill of what's edible and what isn't, most don't. You're care for what you serve and do it with caution." Maomao nodded as you huff mirthfully.

"You would have to ask your friend Jinshi, I doubt he'd take my word for my supposed, "skill." " You smile, handing over the plate. Maomao scoffs at the thought of HIM being a friend.

 "I will put a good word in." Xiaomao mumbled, "I.. Would not mine to teach you more, of course. And I'm sure I can learn from you as well."

Maomao is quiet, snacking on the fruit you had cut as she eyes your back.

"Found' some mushrooms on my traveling, I don't know if they're poisonous or not. Figured you'll have more fun figuring it out."

You reply as an excited gasp leaves Maomao as she goes to grab your bag. Eagerly digging through it until she found her prize. 

-

Slamming the table, you keep steady on the dough. Flour sprinkled here or there on your skin as you hum. 

"If you're gonna' keep staring, you might as well help." You don't look away from the task as the purple haired beauty blinks at the forward remark.

Playing it off with a polite smile, he emerges closer into the room with his servant behind him.

"I wanted to see to it personally on how your first week is here."

Slamming the dough harshly, the two men jump at the sound, They honestly thought the table would break in two.

"It's very hospital, thank you."

Jinshi walks a few steps closer, peering over your shoulder in quiet curiosity. A small laugh leaves you at the sight of him.

"Would you want to try?" You offer politely. 

Surprised, the young man raises his head at you. "Kneading it isn't always the fun part, but..."

You slam the dough down more softly. "You need patience, being careful with each step." 

*Slam!*

"Because without that, the dough can't rise to its needed structure."

Jinshi blinks, taken aback by your words...

He leaves your side for a moment, going over to the washing bucket. Cleaning his hands and drying them off before returning back beside you. Stary-eyed with a strange smile as Gaoshun pinches his forehead, exasperated at him.

You look at him, "So, you wanna' learn then?"

-

"NO!" You bemoan. "You can't just expect it rise without yeast!" You chide as you hand over the specific item. Albeit strained with your teachings, you helped the poor man with his goal of making bread.

He was a bit overconfident in the beginning though..

"Ah I see.. So like this?" His chest puffs happily, showing you a barely mixed batch of mix.

You watch him focus on his task, sweat on his brow as he flattens the dough. He was diligent, not one to give up so easily, you could give him that.

You tap his shoulder. "I'll take over from here," you reply as the man stops. Looking as if he wanted to retort, clearly, he wanted to finish up. "Yes, thank you. (L/N) for this impromptu cooking lesson." His servant steps forward, nodding to his Master with a frown,

Jinshi's lips curl into themselves, a hint of pout on his face. Yet he relents. "Thank you for the experience and wisdom. I shall take my leave." He flounces out of the room, his smile more than polite.

'That was hard to watch...' Maomao complains, watching you finish up. A proud look crossing your face, the girl is taken aback. Here she thought that look was reserved for her...

'Damn him...' 

Without much thought, you take the bread out of the oven, showing the final product.

"Hmm... It's not bad."

-

Notes:

I wanted to try writing a Senshi inspired reader without being blatant! Just a small idea I've had for awhile! I think Jinshi is a interesting character to write for! And moamao is utterly hilarious! Just felt like trying something new! 

- 

[If you liked it! Let me know! If yall wanna see more of my idea let me know! Thanks for reading! Reblogs, likes, comments are always appreciated!]

[dahlia-tourism-board]

Wrote this fluff out of spite, since the fandom likes to keep reminding me that Gavin will outlive the DAMN crew:

Gavin and Freelancer always knew kids were off the table. No big decision, it just wasn't for them.

But when Huxley and Damien finally get through the adoption process and introduce a shy but sweet little girl to 'Uncle Gavin'...well, Gavin feels that tug at his heart much more than he expected.

When Lasko and Dear bring home baby twins, Uncle Gavin feels that heart-tug again as they learn to walk, and start walking towards him.

His found family is expanding, growing, and he's so honored to be a part of it. He and Freelancer gush and coo over their niblings, and love them more than anything.

The Crew all stay in Dahlia. It's their home, it's their family. As they age, Gavin and the kids all help out in caring for them. One by one, Gavin says goodbye to his original found family. Eventually, he says goodbye to the love of his life.

But he's never alone. Uncle Gavin is always surrounded by his friends' children. And they live on through them.

Huxley and Damien's daughter has drive, ambition, and the kindest heart. Lasko and Dear's twins have soft voices, generous souls, and a surprisingly subtle mischievous streak.

Eventually, these kids all find partners, friends, and families of their own. And every time, he is introduced as 'Uncle Gavin'.

He's a fixture in all their lives throughout the generations. As people come into the fold, they explain to newcomers that Uncle Gavin always has been and always will be there.

And more often than not, he'll catch glimpses of his first family. Someone will have Damien's laugh or Freelancer's wit, Huxley's empathy or Lasko's intuition, or Dear's sense of humor.

He misses his first found family, his partner, and will for as long as he exists. But surrounded by the legacy of the love they all shared, Uncle Gavin knows that they will always be with him.

[wandixx]

Danny, the Young Justice member snippet nr 3 GIW made a lot of mistakes and the biggest one was going against Young Justice part 1

As you can see by the title (I need better ideas, you're all welcome to share yours), this is kinda part of "Danny, the Youg Justice member" but as something I have more of actual idea about. So while I encourage people adding their stuff to other snippets, please let this one be. I will be adding to it. It's even partially written :D

unrelated snippet nr 1, unrelated snippet nr 2

"Hey guys" Danny greeted clearly winded, phasing through the wall. Whole Team turned towards him, some giving him a side eye “Sorry I’m late” 

“You’re good, my dude” Wally answered, patting him on the back as soon as halfa landed, turning into his human form. They gave him a moment to catch his breath(just how fast he tried to fly there?) before grabbing their bags. Dick jumped and threw himself over the speedster's and halfa’s shoulders.

“Happy Harbour, we’re coming!” he yelled.

He fixed his grip when he caught Danny’s quick wince under the pressure as they left the headquarters. Judging by look on his face, Kaldur caught it too.

“So what’s on the agenda?”

“There is an amusement park in city, so we’re going to enjoy our free time there” M’gann explained with excited smile “I can’t wait to see it, I heard it’s fun”

Artemis nodded with a grin.

“I bet I can win more plushies than all of you. No powers,” she demanded after a moment, slamming her hand n a random tree for better dramatic effect.

“Stakes?” he asked, competitive like always. While blonde shared her idea of ‘no locker room duties for a month’, Danny explained all the questions M’gann asked about what even bet was and what stakes meant. Dick was sure she knew the answers to all of them but he didn’t say anything. He was trained well enough to catch Conner listening intently, despite his clear effort to hide it.

It turned into a whole Team competition.

It was going to be an aster.

***

M’gann was having a blast. Everyone already had two to four plushies, stomach full of unhealthy food and manageable nausea from the roller coaster. Wally and Danny were throwing popcorn to each other's mouths, Robin challenged Conner and Artemis to the next game. It really was fun just like she was told!

It was much less fun when literal blast shot a few feets away from them. Ground where it hit was burned. Halfa squealed, projecting a strong wave of distress. Without second thought he threw his hood on and changed his posture, frantically looking for a hiding spot.

Few children started crying, their families scrambling to get away before attackers started shooting again and hurt them. Workers, already used to working in less than ideal circumstances, quickly, but without panic warranted by recognised villains or outright invasion, shut down reinforced blinds and probably walked out to inform someone. At least they didn’t have to worry about potential civilian casualties. 

“Do you know who they are?” M’gann asked, quickly establishing the Mindlink.

“Don’t worry about it” he answered, putting on crazy big sunglasses that Wally won some time before.

“My dude, we just got shot at. We have every right to worry”

“Calm down, Wally. I got shot at, you’re just close by. I’ll handle it” With a ruffle of his hair and a piece of popcorn thrown in his mouth,he turned around, just moment after the next blast almost caught his arm. He plastered a smile on his face.

“Hey, I’ve seen guns like these in laser tag! But I’ve never found them cheap enough to get without selling my kidney!” he yelled enthusiastically.

When the rest of them turned around, M’gann saw ten people in sunglasses and pristine white, holding guns straight from the mad scientist’s lab. THey stood still, projecting surprise bordering on shock. She could also feel hunter's happiness underneath it, intense enough that she considered breaking the ‘don’t mess with people’s brains’ rule. As a treat.

“Don’t worry guys, they won’t harm you. Act like you  don’t believe you’re in danger. Like they're a bunch of LARPers or something” It was easier said than done, especially when Danny, who nearly always underestimated the danger, was so terrified. 

“Who are they?!”

“Wally throw me a bit of popcorn, please” Halfa asked, ignoring Artemis almost yelling in their minds. In turn, he was ignored by the speedster. Three of the men turned to check something on weird sort of scanner. Danny's false smile went from cheerful to embarrassed. 

“Dang me and my poor communication skills” he said, loud enough for men to hear but not enough to sound like he was talking to them, before asking louder “I meant to ask, where have you brought it and how much does it cost?”

This seemed to actually shake men out of their shock. They got furious.

“You won't trick us this time, ghost scum” one of the guys with a scanner snarled. Danny pursed his lips in childish gesture of displeasure.

“Rude much” he muttered as if he wasn’t shining with terror like a lighthouse. Robin perked up as if something got him curious.

“Wait, ghost? What do–”

“What are you cosplaying?” Artemis blurted out. Men got visibly angry but Danny smirked.

“Don't antagonize them,” Kaldur commended. 

“If shit goes south I'll get you out of there, half a second flat” Wally offered.

“Thanks dude. Good job Artemis, they hate to be treated like a joke they are” halfa praised but out loud asking:

“Ghostbusters? No, they had different uniforms. But who else got a thing for ghosts?”

“Quit joking around, we caught you Phantom! You ran far from Amity Park but-”

“Who is Phantom?” Robin interrupted rudely (they deserved to be rude to them).

“Where is Amity Park, Utah? Cali?”  Conner asked, adding fuel to the fire of chaos with barely contained glee. He liked messing with anyone even slightly resembling Kadmus staff and these guys marked almost all of the boxes.

“Illinois” provided chubby man who looked and felt like he didn't want to be there almost as much as they teens did. Danny relaxed slightly.

“Agent W you have no clearance to share this information“

“You were in Illinois and didn't tell me, Tommy?” M’gann finally spoke, jokingly punching his arm.

“I wasn't, I swear! I've never set a foot outside of this state in my life!”

“Quit messing around, you freak!!!” the guy, with the biggest ego and probably the leader, screamed.

“Can I please mess their heads up?”  M’gann asked, pushing hope through Mindlink as hard as she could.

“Again, rude. What did I even do to deserve that?”

“Like you–”

“Operative K, I think they really don't know anything “ Agent W, the nicest out of the batch, interrupted “Maybe it left some ectoplasm on this boy to throw us off?”

“They called you it, Danny” Conner seethed, looking like only Kaldur’s hand on his shoulder was stopping him from punching all of them straight to the sun. M’gann was already reaching for their minds.

“We need to run a scan to be sure. Come here boy”

“Now, who are you?!” Robin got defensive, sliding to shield Danny from asiliants. Conner and Artemis joined him, so clearly furious that M’gann almost retreated from Mindlink. She wasn’t any calmer, it just felt overwhelming to be backed up by five other people.

“It’s classified”

Kaldur took a photo with an obnoxiously loud sound effect. Wally appeared right behind Danny, ready to evacuate him. Artemis barely kept herself from tackling the nearest ‘agent’ to the ground.

“What are you doing, boy?” Operative K splurted, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Calling the police”

“Why?”

“Robin, throw some laws, please”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the boy jumped in gleefully “You assaulted our friend and refused to state why you would have credentials to do so or even who are you. You carry modified weaponry openly in public and I doubt you have a permit, carelessly use it  against minors, endangering innocent bystanders while we’re at it. You disturb public peace. I think that’s enough to get you arrested. Wait you know what, call ‘Supervillain emergency hotline’ instead, this is serious attack”

“Right ahead of you, already calling them”

It wasn’t that big of a problem even if someone tried to qualify this as spam. Young Justice Team was first to respond to all threats in Happy Harbour anyway.

Danny let out a low ‘uuuu’ with a smirk. Someone powered up a gun. Wally slightly raised halfa of the ground, ready to bolt.

“It’s okay young man,” the nice agent started, raising his hands in a placating gesture “We’re searching for a dangerous supernatural entity and may have overreacted. In our defense, Phantom is known to be tricky and we wouldn’t be surprised if it used human disguise to hide from us. Your friend gives off the same type of energy like what we use to track it so we assumed they’re the same. We’re sorry”

“Agent W you don’t have clearance to disclose that to-”

“Operative K, after the last few incidents we have to be more throughout before jumping to assumptions. Agent Gamma wouldn’t be pleased if your temper caused the next scandal,” Agent W look at them again, with a forced ‘warm’ smile “We’re really sorry for bothering you. We have reasons to believe Phantom is somewhere around but don’t worry about it, we will be on the lookout. If you see it, please contact us and we will take care of it” M’gann grabbed the ‘WANTED’ poster from man’s outstretched hand. She barely restrained herself from doing something irresponsible, like turning every man in white into a brainless vegetable.

“Later M'gann”

“But Robin…” she whined before sending a small laugh so they knew she wasn’t serious. She knew that Conner and Danny were anxious about this use of her powers.

Agent’s left and everyone relaxed. Wally put Danny back down and leaned back, jokingly rolling back his arms as if he got tired. Halfa stopped with a loud thump to sit on the ground. He was paler than usual.

Artemis shouted, alarmed.

“That was way too close” he started, aiming for a cheerful tone but missing by a mile “I’m fine, just need a moment to cool down. Sorry for that, guys. I thought I lost them over Ohio”

“That’s fine, personally I don’t care, we knew better than to expect a whole day without something going wrong, but who were they?” Wally asked, already back to eating popcorn.

Danny sighed, so deeply M’gann felt it in her bones even though she didn’t try to read him.

“I think this is the talk we should have in the Mountain”

part 2

[ominouspuff]

Kote’s House

Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.

The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about. 

His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.

He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.

He tries to explain how wonderful it is —

“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”

—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.

Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.

Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.

“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.

“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.

He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids. 

They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time. 

Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?

Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical. 

“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.

Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.

Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.

“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept). 

“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”

Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”

Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.

He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are. 

What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.

Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.

Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that. 

He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.

“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him. 

“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.

He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill. 

“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving. 

Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.

[northern-passage]

[moonsglare]

a letter from a sailor to her lover. || beidou x reader

On the open ocean, Beidou is left with her thoughts. Of course, she ends up thinking of you—and tonight, she chooses to write them down in a letter to you.

notes. been obsessed w sailor song by gigi perez ,,, ooo the sapphicism. also this is short as hell but i kinda like it, might make it a series or smtg for bei

cw. fluff

To my dear heart,

We’ve just made landfall in Snezhnaya. It’s a damn cold place—I always think I’ve gotten used to the cold every time I go back, but I keep eating my words. I guess the Tsaritsa’s love isn’t so warm, huh? It makes me miss those summer mornings where I’d wake up in your arms. A little sticky, a little sweaty, but warm. The sunrise never could outdo your smile.

I miss you. And it’s got me thinking about the ways to describe how I love you.

I know, I know. I’m no poet. I’m a pirate captain! But… a mutual friend of ours keeps sending me to fetch all these literature books, so I figured I’d flip through a few pages on the journey back. Might as well make use of the time, right? Indulge me, please, sweetheart, just this once.

I thought, first, that I love you the way the ocean loves the moon. You move me, coaxing me into rhythm. You are there, always—for my highs and for my lows, for when I’m strong and when I’m weak. But the moon shines so far in the sky, and I hold you too close to my heart to bear the distance.

I thought, next, that I might love you like an anchor loves a ship. You hold me steady on stormy nights, when the waves crash harsh and high. And I carry you with me wherever I go. But you are more than just an anchor.

So I thought instead, that perhaps I love you the way a navigator loves the north star. With faith and certainty in its presence, a guiding light in the darkest of nights. I know you will shine forever in my night sky, but I think I would miss you too much during the day.

So I’ve thought about it lot, but in the end, sweetheart, I think I’ll only know how to love you as myself. I’ll come and I’ll go but my love for you will always stay right there in your hands. I’ll love you like a sailor; and you’ll always be my safest harbor. Today, tomorrow, and all the tomorrows after that.

Yours entirely,

Beidou

PS. Please don’t tell our mutual friend i’ve been reading her books. She might fine me extra…

[the-broken-pen]

Hey hey

Could you perhaps write a snippet where the building hero is in, gets bombed? Its bombed as an assassination attempt to get them, however the people in that building die and hero, succumbed to their injuries couldn't save everyone of them. At last they watched the last ambulance left without them, even as they called for help

Villians villa is just few kilometres away

Thankfu hero's legs aren't broken

They begin walking

The problem? Vil is way to composed and prim and perfect to let all of hero's blood get on their expensive carpets and fabrics. They could even be mad at the hero for reddening their porch if they hero stood their asking for bandages. What now? And the fight the two had yesterday that ended with "never see me again" and "don't ever talk to me"s.....vil was stopping hero from attending the event the building....

Will vil help them? They can just ask for bandages and leave.

What hero doesn't know: vil would literally destroy the world for hero, and there's no way in hell are they leaving hero on their doorstep.

(Anon you were cooking with this ask, thank you!)

The hero realized the building was going to explode a split second before it did, which wasn’t enough time to do anything other than brace.

They tensed, and there was a horrible screeching of metal and brick, followed by a deafening silence that covered them more completely than the rubble did.

The hero coughed once, weakly, pain rocketing through their chest, and shoved a piece of concrete off themself.

From somewhere else in the building, a soft, terrified wail began, broken around desperate sobs.

The hero coughed again, hand rising to their ribs. They didn’t have the energy to be surprised when their fingers came back coated in blood and dust. They grimaced at it, struggling to their feet–

And oh, god. That hurt.

The hero had a surgery once, the kind that resulted in bandages and a care regime and a set of stitches, and when they had woken up in the recovery unit, it had felt sort of like this. A moment of loopy half-awareness, and then a pain that had knocked the breath out of them, hands clenching into the sheets as a nurse tried to figure out if they needed more medication. 

This was worse. Their vision swam, and they blinked it back with a hiss.

Because someone, somewhere in the wreckage, was crying. And if one person was crying, it meant there was someone who survived. Which meant it was likely there were other survivors–ones too hurt to make any noise, ones knocked unconscious, ones still too shocked to do anything other than lay there–and it was the hero’s job to find them.

It took them far too long to locate the source of the crying. Longer to dig them out, vision going white as the person slammed into the hero’s chest in some facsimile of a terrified hug.

“You’re okay,” they managed, voice like gravel. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out, and you’re going to be just fine. Were you with anyone?”

And then again, and again, and again.

The hero panted, hands on their knees as their body fought them in an attempt to just collapse onto the concrete below. They just–they just needed a minute. Just one, maybe, and then they could–

This time, the hero wasn’t even aware of it before it happened.

The remains of the building shook, then disintegrated into itself in a plume of dust and rock. The hero shielded their eyes with one hand, blinking against the onslaught.

What little air they had managed to get stuttered out of their lungs in something close to a sob. They had done this enough times to know there wasn’t anyone in that building left alive. 

They sagged down against the nearest thing–more rubble, maybe? They didn’t know–and this time when they rested a hand on their side, there was a considerably larger amount of blood.

“That’s…not great,” they said, and their fingers blurred in front of them slightly. There was an ambulance right there. Just a couple feet away. They had already helped most of the survivors, so maybe it would be okay for the hero to–

A paramedic rounded the back of the ambulance, and the hero lifted a hand, reaching–

“Please, wait, I think–I think,” it hurt coming out of their mouth, “help. Please I need–” they trailed off as the paramedic took the step up into the ambulance.

And closed the door behind them.

The hero wasn’t even that surprised when the ambulance began to drive away.

“Help,” they finished weakly, then sucked a breath in through their nose.

They were supposed to be good at this kind of thing. Surviving, no, thriving in catastrophe. A pillar of light. The one with the plan. 

The kind of being that didn’t beg for help on the ground.

The hero wasn’t entirely sure how they managed to get themselves back to standing. It was as easy as that–one moment they were on the ground, gravel embedded in their knees, and the next they were up and shaking but they were up.

“If I stay here, I’ll die,” they murmured. They had hoped maybe the threat would keep their legs from buckling again. It didn’t.

They weren’t near any place that could be trusted. There wasn’t a safe clinic for heroes on this side of the city, and even if there was, the hero wouldn’t trust them. Couldn’t afford to.

But as for near…the hero swallowed the nausea as it rose in their throat. There was one place they could go. One person they could go to.

Four miles. They could do four. There was no other option.

Where the hero had had some blurry recollection, or at least, a good guess of how they got to standing, they had absolutely no clue how they made it onto the villain’s porch. They managed a blink, retching slightly as they stared at the villain’s wavering door, then had to freeze just to bite down the pain that had come from the gagging.

They tried to knock and ended up collapsing against the villain’s door, knees giving out entirely as their fingers scrabbled for purchase and left behind smeared bloody marks on the wood.

They weren’t entirely sure how that happened either, or how long it took the villain to answer the door. Just that it hurt—so, so much, it hurt so–and that they managed to shove themself back into some semblance of standing right before the villain pulled the door open.

The villain’s face did a sort of spasming thing as soon as they saw the hero, jaw dropping slightly in what the hero could only really read as shock.

There was a very considerable amount of blood on the door. They were cold.

“I–” the hero tried, but they weren’t really sure where they had been going with that sentence, and after yesterday and the screaming and the fight the villain probably didn’t want to see them at all, didn’t want to ever see their face again, so–their mind blanked. “I got blood on your door.”

They tried to gesture towards it, but that hurt, so their hand simply twitched slightly from where it hung by their side.

They glanced down at their feet, because they didn’t want to see what the villain’s face was doing, especially if what it was doing was anything resembling anger.

“Oh.” There was blood at the hero’s feet. “And on your porch, too, I guess.”

They looked up at the villain, but they were still staring at them, brow furrowed, hand clenching on the doorframe.

“I’m sorry.”

There was a very faint quiver of tears when they said it, and the hero knew better than to hope the villain didn’t catch it. 

Were they saying sorry for the porch or the door or yesterday–

“Holy shit,” the villain finally breathed, and it sounded like it had been punched out of them. The hero froze, panic rising in their chest.

“I’m sorry,” the hero blurted out, stammering. “I’m–I’m so sorry, I’ll go, just–could I maybe have some bandages? Just–just one, maybe, please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they said uselessly, head swimming. They couldn’t even remember what they were doing here. The villain was perfect in every sense of the word, stoic and proper and collected in a way the hero would never be; a marble statue brought to life. The idea of them letting the hero–the personification of a train wreck in motion–in to bleed all over the villain’s soft carpet and nice shoes and cause irreparable damage to their very expensive house was almost laughable. 

If they had had the breath to laugh.

More of the hero’s blood dripped onto the slats of the porch, and they stepped back. “I’m sorry–”

The villain reached for them, and the hero flinched, taking it for the dismissal it was–

The hero blinked, and it stuck for a moment too long as the world tilted, and when they pried their eyes open again the villain was staring at them with something the hero was too out of it with pain and possibly delirium to identify. Their gaze drifted back to the blood smeared on the door, and the villain’s grip tightened on the hero’s bicep–when had they grabbed the hero’s bicep?–until the hero’s gaze returned to theirs.

The villain said something, but there was a roaring that had started up in the hero’s ears. They seemed to take the uncomprehending blink the hero gave them in return for an answer anyways, and guided them down until they were both sitting on the cool wood. A tug, and the hero was resting against their own propped up knees, villain’s hand still firm on their arm.

“How much blood did you lose?”

It was like screaming underwater, the hero reasoned. Or through a mirror. But they heard it nonetheless, and that was their villain, and even in hatred and war they would always answer them.

“Was ‘supposed to be counting?” If they had any more energy–or maybe slightly more blood–in their body, the slur to their own words would have been concerning.

The villain’s lips pursed into a thin line, and the hero felt them begin to run an assessing hand over their injuries, cataloguing them, brow furrowing further with every second.

“M’sorry,” they managed, tongue thick. The villain didn’t pause.

“For what?”

“Bleeding on your door,” they managed. The villain stopped them from raising their head from their knees. “And your–porch.”

“I don’t give a shit about either of those things,” the villain said, simply, easily. Like it was nothing. Like they didn’t feel the weight of it as they threw it into the air.

The villain sat back on their heels, clearly having learned what they wanted from the hero’s injuries.

When the hero didn’t immediately look at them, the villain grabbed their chin, gently turning it until the hero faced them.

“How far did you walk,” they said slowly, and the hero had never been more grateful for anything in their life.

“Four miles,” the hero said, and they couldn’t hear their own voice above the roaring, but the villain obviously could from the way their eyes darkened.

The hero wanted no part in making the villain angry again–I never want to see you again, do you hear me? If you ever try to talk to me again I will kill the both of us, I promise you that–, but when they attempted to push themselves up to leave, the only thing they managed was a piteous whine and a stab of pain so intense they forgot to breathe.

“Idiot,” the villain hissed. But oddly, the hero didn’t sense any anger coming from the villain.

They blinked–too long, again–and found themselves in the villain’s arms as they walked through the house. Their head lolled back onto the villain’s shoulder, and the villain glanced down as if–to make sure the hero was okay. That they were conscious, and breathing.

Oh.

Oh.

The villain wasn’t angry.

They were afraid. For the hero.

Which didn’t make any sense, because–

I never want to see you again–

“You’re mad at me,” the hero reasoned, and it came out half strangled and petulant. The villain looked down at them, and the hero caught the tiniest flinch in their jaw.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s not what you said yesterday,” the hero whispered, and the villain flinched.

“I wanted to stop this from happening.” The villain settled them onto a bathroom counter, lights flickering on as the hero leaned back against the mirror. Blood began to dry, sticky, between their fingers.

The hero’s mouth went dry, and it caught in their throat when they tried to swallow it.

“You could have just left me there.” Their voice only shook a little bit, but the villain’s head still snapped up from where they had been digging through a drawer.

“What?”

“On the porch,” the hero clarified, clearing their throat. The lump didn’t go away, and they had begun shaking at some point, and they couldn’t stop. “If you didn’t want to deal with me you could have just left me there–”

The villain’s face had darkened into something the hero almost didn’t recognize. 

“I would burn the world for you, and you think I would leave you to die on my porch?”

“You said you didn’t want this to happen.”

“No, that’s not–” the villain rubbed a hand over their brow, and the hero winced at the blood it left behind. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. I was trying to keep you from going to that stupid event and getting hurt. I knew it was going to blow.”

“I would have gone anyway.”

The villain stilled. “I thought maybe if you never wanted to see me again, and you knew I was there…”

“I would,” the hero repeated. “Have gone anyway.”

The hero watched as the villain’s face rippled through a dozen emotions, settling onto something unidentifiable.

“Why?”

“Because you were there,” the hero said easily, shrugging one shoulder. Because when it came to the villain, it really was that easy. They could scream, and shout, and hold a knife to the hero’s throat, and the hero would still follow them into hell. That was their villain.

The villain looked like the hero had stabbed them, face draining of color. Their fingers went white around the edge of the counter, as if it was the only thing keeping them upright.

“What,” the villain’s voice was hoarse.

“I went because I was hoping you would be there,” the hero said honestly

“Stop,” the villain raised a hand between them, a shield, voice breaking. They sucked in a breath, then another, like they were trying to keep themself from breaking down onto the tile.

“You would have gone to the event no matter what, just to see me,” the villain said slowly, and the hero nodded

“Yes.”

“Even though I screamed at you?”

“Yes.”

“And told you I hated you.”

“Villain, please–”

“Now you know,” the villain interrupted, voice incredibly soft. “Why I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero forgot to breathe for a moment, tongue going numb in their mouth. The villain couldn’t mean–

They blinked for a moment too long, and then the villain was standing between the hero’s knees, hand on their chest.

“You love me,” the hero said a moment later.

“Ruinously,” the villain agreed.

“So you–”

“I was trying to save your life,” the villain’s hands were gentle as they began to patch up the hero’s side. “And now I’m saving your life in a new and unanticipated way. But there is nothing you could ever do to stop me from saving your life.”

The hero’s heart clenched. 

“Really?”

The villain caught their chin, eyes boring into the hero’s. They brushed a piece of hair off the side of the hero’s face.

“Really.”

The hero sighed, and the villain caught them as they slumped.

“I thought you hated me,” the hero said, and they hated how raw they sounded. The villain made a choked little noise.

“I’m so sorry.”

The hero sniffed.

“Don’t do it again.”

The villain simply hummed, and smoothed the ends of a bandage down against the hero’s abdomen. The hero could feel their hands shaking.

You scared me.

A second later, their hands settled on either side of the hero’s head, and the villain rested their face into the hero’s hair. They pressed a kiss to the hero’s temple, tension easing from their shoulders.

I’m sorry.

The hero clutched the front of the villain’s shirt between their hands, drawing them closer. The villain went willingly, loose limbed with affection and the rapid draining of terror from their system.

“I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero had never believed anyone more.

[gilmorenights]

More lover’s oath by @dasketcherz because this au is genuinely taking up all of my brain space 😔

[oh-no-its-bird]

Here Before and After Me,,, chapter 5 ,,, in progress,,,,,,, [throws up blood]

[aliferous-ly]

Gem's first sword was a rickety stone thing that chipped on its first skeleton bone. She sharpened it nightly and it was always dull by noon the next day. She was young, maybe eight or nine, so she definitely shouldn't have been sneaking out to play chicken with a creeper. But clearing the forest of monsters, felling creatures stronger than she... Nothing beat it.

She upgraded to an old iron sword when she turned eleven. It sharpened far nicer and lasted much longer. Her stone sword gathered dust at the bottom of a chest.

Her first diamond sword was when she was fourteen or so -- incredibly young to be handling such an expensive blade, but she was different. She held swords like they were extra limbs. Like she was meant for slaughter.

Netherite wasn't discovered until she was twenty-four. At this point she'd lost and built more blades than she could count, so when netherite became an option she rolled up her sleeves, donned some armor, and got to work.

It glowed the way embers glowed, from deep in its core. It was purple-black and Gem wasn't partial to such an aesthetic, but... she twisted the sword so it reflected the red, burning lava in her blacksmith. With a twist, she flicked the blade at her training dummy and took its head clean off.

Her lips stretched into a grin. She could get used to this.

[cherryapplefish]

Summer Thoughts

Caleb x Reader

Rated: E for everyone

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: yah you call Caleb ge/gege in here. no, it's honorifics because your character starts off as 8! view this in the way you guys read about girls calling older guys "oppa" please. it's not meant to be anything more than that. caleb and mc are written as children here half the time. hope this helps.

You never actually learn how to ride a bike. 

And you don’t figure this out till you’re 13. 

At this point in your life, you’ve only gone bike riding with Caleb. He was the one who taught you so of course he’s the one who takes you.

“Why do you need to learn,” he asks, brows furrowing together half in confusion and half in annoyance. You huff and stomp your foot. You’re eight and all the other kids in the neighborhood know how to ride a bike but you’re still sitting on the back of Caleb’s. 

“You can just ride with me. I’ll take you wherever you need to go,” he continues. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you try to seem serious. Like a grown up. 

Caleb just stifles a laugh as he tries not to look away but you can see the mirth sparkling in his eyes and it makes you want to reach out and smack him for being so mean to you. You want to be taken seriously and: 

“The other kids left me because they didn’t have a seat for me and I didn’t know how to take yours. Teach me, gege.”

You whine, switching up tactics and latching your arms around his in an attempt to act cute. Caleb usually always gives in if you’re cute enough and when he doesn’t react, you press your cheek to his arm, squirming against him like the child you are. 

“Please. Please. Please.” 

Caleb sighs before a soft smile spreads across his face. He reaches out, fingers ruffling your hair before agreeing. 

That had been then. 

Now, you’re thirteen and stomping back inside with scraped knees and tears tracking down your cheeks. You purse your lips to keep them from quivering and head straight for Caleb. 

He pokes his head out of the kitchen when he hears the door slam and alert him of your presence, his eyes bright. 

“Hey pipsqueak- woah, what happened to you,” he says, setting down the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the pot of braised pork he’d been making for dinner. He can see the way your cheek is redder on one side compared to the other and immediately makes his way over to you. 

You meet him halfway there and before he can get another word out, you sock him in the arm. You barely leave a mark but Caleb hisses in surprise, rubbing the spot. 

“Hey! What was that for? What happened,” he asks. There’s concern in his gaze as he reaches out to pull a leaf out of your hair. It’s clear you’ve taken a pretty bad tumble and for some reason, it’s his fault. 

“You’ve been using your evol on me when we ride bikes haven’t you,” you ask and he freezes. You can see the guilt flash across his face before he schools it into a practiced smile. The jerk! That was confession enough! 

“You caught me,” he answers, a cheeky grin on his face. He anticipates your movements before you do, fingers wrapping around your wrist that threaten to punch him once more. His grip is tight but not bruising and you huff as you try to pull away but he doesn’t let go and so instead you try the other one. 

Caleb knows you inside and out so he stops that arm too and now, the both of you are standing in the middle of the living room. You, huffing with anger and embarrassment, and Caleb, guiltily smiling with both of your hands in his. 

“Caleb! Do you know how embarrassing it was? I fell. As soon as I got on and tried to push, I fell because you didn’t bother to teach me properly,” you argue and you see the guilty look on Caleb’s face before he pulls you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you, patting the back of your head. 

“Aw, I’m sorry pips,” he says but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “I just got scared every time I saw you leaning to one side so I used my evol. I didn’t think you actually couldn’t ride a bike without my help.” 

It’s a half truth, he thinks as he bites back a laugh when you begin to hit his back. It’s fine. He’ll let you get out all your anger as long as you rely on him for help. 

“It was so embarrassing, ge,” you complain before slowly you fist your fingers into his shirt. “I scraped my knees and fell on my face. It hurt a lot.” 

Caleb knows. He’d seen it all when you came in and pursing his lips together, he pulls back to examine you properly. Normally, he’d cup your face and get a good look but he doesn’t want to risk hurting you more than you already feel. 

With a soft sigh, he strokes your cheek. 

“I’m sorry pipsqueak. I really am. I’ll make it up to you and actually teach you how to ride a bike okay?” 

You look away when he pulls back, fingers still fisted in his shirt but you nod anyways. 

As long as he actually taught you. 

-

Caleb is a liar. 

He still never actually taught you how to ride a bike and now, you’re 22 and staring Caleb down as he pats the backseat of his bike with a grin. 

“Jump on, pips,” he tells you and you cross your arms, huffing as you turn your nose up. 

You think back to thirteen and scraped knees and immediately get mad at him. 

“Don’t wanna,” you argue and Caleb laughs. You’re tugged in by nothing but you’ve been around Caleb long enough now that you know he’s using his evol to pull you closer. You don’t even yelp as you’re lifted onto the seat but you do look away as you cross your legs. 

It has Caleb laughing even more. He took pleasure in watching you be an absolute brat. 

“You’re not still mad I never taught you how to ride a bike are you,” he asks and there’s that same sparkle in his eyes from all those years ago. 

After he had promised, he had made excuses. 

He was too busy to teach you. He was too tired to go outside and they could build models instead. He would just take you on the back of his to save time. 

It’d been excuse after excuse and before you knew it, Caleb had gone off to Skyhaven for college and you still hadn’t learned how to ride a bike. 

Could you have learned on your own? Yes but…but it was scary when you didn’t have Caleb around to catch you. And so you’d never learned. 

Now, that unfulfilled promise comes back to mind when Caleb suggests a bike ride along the river. 

When you huff in response, his grin widens. 

“I’ll teach you next time,” he promises and you glare at him and he loves it because at least your gaze is back on him once more. 

“You said that last time!” 

“I mean it this time,” he replies, his grin wide and full of delight. You have to look away in case you melt and agree like you always do. 

He leans over then, one arm wrapped around your waist to steady you as he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Promise,” he whispers softly into your skin. 

You smack him away, a complaint on the tip of your tongue but you hold back and instead, your fingers curl into his shirt. 

“Just pedal,” you grumble, forcing him to face forward as you press a burning cheek to his back. Your eyes glance over the glimmering river as the last of the sun's rays sparkle across it but you’re too focused on how warm Caleb’s back feels, the sound of his laughter vibrating in his chest. 

You press closer, hold him tighter just as he had wanted, and inhale. 

Somehow, even after all these years, Caleb still smells like home. 

i don't know how to ride a bike and if caleb were real, this is exactly how i imagine caleb would react lmaooo

"You don't need to learn. Just ride with me."

excuses because he wants you to hug his waist hahahahah

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Sapor.2

{The Apothecary Diaries / Reader}

《Coming back from your travels, you run into a familiar face...》

[1][3]

-

Waiting by the lake, you wander into the waters without thought. Finding the purple haired male, he seemed rather unhappy having to traverse the lake back to land.

You offer out a hand, turning around as you gesture to your back. "I'll carry you, we don't need ya catching a cold, Sir." You spoke, waiting. "Ah-, t-there's no need-" He tried to dissuade your offer, it was quite strange to him. He didn't require such assistance!

You look at him sternly, "if you keep yappin' then you'll be frozen the time you get out."

He gapes at your brash words, not expecting them. Yet, you apologize, once more gesturing for him climb on your back.

"You did enough, just let me aid you."

Awkwardly, he shifts behind you as his legs dangle on your waist. Hoisting him up, you traverse the water. "Y-You are quite strong."

You nodded, keeping your eyes focused to land. "I've traveled around a lot, you need strength to protect oneself."

Resting his soaked head on your own, you don't mind the water dripping into your face.

"Thank you."

You said among the soft crickets and moths. A silent question rests on his mind, before he had a chance to speak, you start.

"I am... Often worried when Maomao is here. But, if I could ask one favor from you, Master Jinshi. Keep her safe, or the least, keep a eye on her. Please.." "You pause, grip tighter on the male.

"I know she would of ended up here anyway, but... I just wish not under the circumstances that led up to it." Your tone shifts slightly as you sigh.

Jinshi recalled when Maomao had told him of her unfortunates that led her to the rear palace.

You find the grassy shore, you loosen your grip as Jinshi steps down, mind roaring with questions that he wished he had answers to, yet are silenced as he takes a look at you.

No words could describe the feelings in his chest, so he lets them linger like the mud now stuck to your clothes. Still drenched, but at least the warm air helped. The two of you follow the path back to the palace in silence.

-

Raising a brow at the soaked male, you huff out a laugh at the sight. The Enuche, more displeased by the second, scoffs at you. Throwing a harsh glare at Maomao and you, yet you don't mind.

"My hair is still wet!"

Gaoshun shot the both of you a look as Maomao begrudgingly grabs a towel to wipe down his purple locks.

You on the other hand, decided to treat the soaked fellow for his hard work.

Gathering your items, you place down a heavy tray of jar and boxes. Cups, big and small and different shapes. Maomao and Gaoshun eye you in surprise at the sight. 

Jinshi, still unpleased, crosses his arms.

You place down a simple little cup in front of the drenched male.

You take ahold of one of the other cups, pouring in what he assumed, was milk, steam radiating off the cup.

Laying down a small box of cinnamon, you sprinkle some in with a spoon. Before handling another jar. This time, you use the spoon to gather a good bit of the golden honey, then a small pinch of a sweet-smelling fragrance he couldn't name at the moment. Stirring the mix together slowly, you present the drink.

A syrupy aroma sprouting about as you lay a small plate beside the cup. A strange food item placed atop the plain plate.

"Here, this will warm you up."

The male eyes you skeptically, lowering his hand to grab the cup while keeping contact. He sips the liquid, before immediately placing it down. The gentle sweetness and heat from the drink was... Soothing. 

But he didn't want his rage to slip away just like that!

"It's... Sweet." He mumbles, hands itching to grab ahold of the cup once more.

You shrug, "well, I know tea is more of your preference. But I thought this might help more."

You lightly gesture to the flakey pastry beside the cup. 

"This should do you some good too, I was inspired by the bread you made the other day. Thought' it'd be something you'd enjoy." You state as Maomao rose a brow. You always kept an eye on one's efforts, even herself. (She recalled you making her something mixed with wine for her after this eventful day. She couldn't wait to try it!)

Ignoring the comment, he bites into the dish, taste buds erupting at the buttery taste and crunchy texture. He gulps down his gasp with each bite. Enjoying the meal as his agitation lightens. Even if his clothes were still a heavy thing to wear.

"Master Jinshi, your clothes are provided for when you're done." Goashun states, bowing slightly as he nodded to you with appreciation.

Finishing up his meal, he gathers himself. Head held high as his signature smile is back on his face. Maomao stands a bit closer to you as she eyes him wearily. That expression was different, she knew it was. The way his eyes lowered just a bit, as if his gaze was.. Enthralled-!

"Thank you, the meal was delicious, I shall take my leave now."

'Their hair...' Maomao eyes you, hair slightly damp and then noticing your clothes were slightly soaked in the back.

Maomao wwould rather you not be swept away by the males charms. No matter his beauty, she cannot allow you to be heartbroken by him. (Much less be by him.) She dismisses the idea for another time, even if the situation regarding the envoys was over. It still wasn't finished quite yet..

"Maomao." You pipe up, collecting your dishes. 

"Yes?"

"I wanted you to try the chocolates I made, I infused a filling with some wine, I learned the idea from the west-"

Excited at the words, she turns to you slowly. "I'll give it to you once I'm done cleanin' up."

"I'll help." She replied too quickly, a giddy smile on her features. You laugh at the enthusiasm as the two of you finish up.

Maomao goes lost in her thoughts, 'if...I could, I wouldn't mind travelling with them... It wouldn't be so bad. If we could eat such new and creative dishes and discover more medicines...' She blinks at the wistful idea, shaking her head. "Rather, I should just focus on the now."

-

You take ahold of the mallet, sweat glistening on your brow as bits of your clothes hang off of you due to much movement. A excited expression on your face as you swing the hammer down. 

Jinshi, terrified at the sound, hides by the door as he watches Maomao eye your body thoughtfully.

Smiling down brightly at the squishy substance, you continue your work as Jinshi gathers the courage to walk inside. "I see that you're busy.." He hides his tenseness with a smile, trying not to eye your process. Maomao hides her stink-eye, she could literally see him trying and (failing) to watch.

Gaoshun enters right behind his master, rather calm at the sound of your quiet grunts as you slam down the mallet quickly onto the forming mochitsuki.

"Apothecary, I would like to have a word."

"Yes, of course Master Jinshi."

Before the three of them left, they hear a hearty cheer leave you. Catching their attention, you grin wide with mirth

"Haha! It's ready!"

Goashun sighs as he notices his master and the Apothecary smiling at the sight.

-

Notes:

I had a fun time with trying to write with a Senshi! Inspired (Y/N). I have whole types of head canons with them with Jinshi and Maomao. They're just so silly! Also, I hope some of ya'll got the references I added! (Also, Senshi is a character from Dungeon Meshi.) I recommend it! It sorta ties in with the ideas I have regarding these two fics and hopefully more to come!. 

Tags: @teddiiursula @softnightplumes

(SO, another installment! I've been thinking maybe I should start writing for more Shoujo series. Manga, anime or manhwa. But it's all in good fun, let me know what ya'll think! Thanks for reading! See you later!)

[regency-monster-love]

Could we get #23 with the Grumpy Orc? I could see him getting drunk and then professing everything to the reader while his inhibitions are lowered 😈

I like the way your mind works, anon!

23. A kiss influenced by alcohol/other substances

Male orc x female human

"I shou' hate you—I should!" The orc scowled and tried to jab a thick green finger at her, but it just kind of waved in the air, with how drunk he was. "Why d'you have to be so bloody sweet an' charming an' kind? And pretty." He leaned closer to her face, squinting. "How are you so pretty?" That same green finger poked at her mouth, making her purse her lips to keep from laughing. "You don' even have any tusks, but your mouth still looks so nice. Wish I could kiss it."

She batted his hand away from her face. "Then do so."

His bushy black eyebrows drew together. "Pardon?"

She grabbed his cheeks and pressed her mouth to his. It took his addled mind a second or two to comprehend what was happening, but then he kissed her back with gusto, curling his tongue into her small mouth and eating up the soft little sounds of pleasure she made. Her thumbs slipped down to rub against his tusks as they continued to kiss, and the jolt that gave him made him groan.

"God I love you," he mumbled against her mouth.

She pulled back, her eyebrows leaping up her forehead. "Pardon?"

[You can read more about grumpy orc and the human woman he "hates" here]

Written for the kiss ask game. Keep 'em coming!

Read all of these kiss fic snippets at the tag #kiss snippet. Read all of my Regency monster stuff at the tag #my writing.

[ariadne-mouse]

For the "I wish you would write a fic where…" I don't know if this counts because it's not a new fic, but:

"Was? Essek? I thought you were out of town?"

Caleb wakes up with obsidian flakes of a'a in his hair and and no memory of the last few years. His very-new boyfriend has adopted his cat, there's a court case for his attemped murder, and he might have been a ghost?

A followup to The Fire Kept Closest, from Caleb's POV, filling in the timejump to the epilogue.

Thank you for the ask! It took me a minute to get to this ask game, but here we are. I am not writing exactly to the prompt, but I hope you like this 830-word slice of post-fic Volcaleb nonetheless!

-

"I would like to go, I think."

Essek paused where he had just gathered a scoop of cat kibble. The awaiting dish lay on the floor, empty. "Are you sure?"

"Ja," Caleb answered. He folded the local newspaper he had been reading in half, the headline visible: Corporate Clash: Cerberus takes the stand. "I know it's best my situation stays out of the spotlight, at least for now, but I want him to see me. To see my face, and know that I know." His expression darkened. "I want him to sweat."

At Essek's feet, Frumpkin yowled his impatience, unaware of corporations, or bureaucracy, or indeed the significance of newspapers beyond the fact that they were sometimes fun to sit on.

"Calm down, calm down," Essek tutted, and gave the beast his meal. He smoothed a hand down Frumpkin's back, thinking. "I'll go with you, if you really want to go."

Caleb smiled grimly. "Danke. I would like that. But I have an idea, also - you can help."

-

Vence Nuthaleus cleaned up well in a suit, and he knew it. It was unfortunate that the volcano on Rumblecusp had popped its top as soon as it had, but he was still safely ensconced in respectability - and more importantly, plausible deniability. Research was only as good as records available, and his land use recommendation report had been scientifically sound with the data from the island's active seismometer network.

It didn't even alarm him that he was playing a kind of mutually assured destruction game with Cerberus. They wanted to publicly shed him as a "bad actor", especially convenient given his contractor status - but if they did, he'd reveal they had been the ones to disconnect the last seismometer. He had enough leverage in writing to make the accusation compelling, and they knew it. The thing they might most want to pin on him... well, they didn't have any evidence of that. All told, it was in Cerberus's best interest to protect him. And so he wore his most approachable suit, and a polite smile, and answered questions as earnestly as he could when he was on the stand. Mardoon Estate only wanted money, after all, and Cerberus certainly had plenty of that. Vence didn't need to be scapegoat for it all to work out eventually.

The courtroom around him was full for the spectacle. The door creaked open every so often as the gawkers and media came and went, like bees buzzing on a hive. He sometimes saw familiar faces from the island: Dr. Vilya, Beauregard, Thelyss. Today the last of these was sitting in one of the back rows by himself, glaring at Vence like he always did when he was there. Too bad; being a stuck-up trust fund baby wouldn't help Thelyss here.

It was some minutes before Vence's attention was drawn by a spot in the standing room in the back that had not moved at all for some time. Even as his mouth answered the current question on autopilot, his eyes were drawn to look at the vacuum of stillness.

A dead man was looking back at him.

Vence's words curdled in his throat, choking his breath.

He was there. Caleb Widogast was there, standing among the throng.

"Mr. Nuthaleus?" prompted the examiner.

"I... I..."

The ghost - it could only be a ghost - stared at him with those eerie blue eyes, unblinking. He was dressed like he had been, for a hike on the mountain. There was even a lightweight heatsuit half-zipped and tied around his waist.

He looked exactly like he had when he had died. When--

Vence couldn't pull his gaze away. "Could- could you repeat the question?"

The examiner repeated it, and again Vence did not hear.

Nearby, Thelyss was standing up. He favored Vence with a last look of contempt before making for the double doors. The crowd parted to let him pass, but Widogast did not move. And Thelyss... walked right past him, like he wasn't there.

A chill rolled down Vence's spine and his breathing came faster. He could hear a ringing noise, his vision was narrowing.

With effort, he turned a smile to the judge. "I'm sorry, I think I need a moment."

When he turned back, Caleb Widogast was gone.

-

Outside in the hallway, Essek leaned on the wall next to Caleb, who sat heavily on a bench. The heat suit was stuffed back into a bag.

"Feel any better?"

A muscle in Caleb's face twitched, and his hand balled in a fist. "A little. I don't know. Seeing him-" His breath left him in a gust. "It was harder than I expected."

Essek touched his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  "Come, then. Let's go. We can learn what happened later. Frumpkin is waiting for you at home."

This last tactic was always a surefire way to bring a little smile back to Caleb's face, and it proved to be so now.

“Ja,” Caleb agreed, straightening up.  “Let’s go home.”

[autocrats-in-love]

If you take requests

Could you possibly do a ftm hero x villain (mlm) where the hero is captured and the villain is naming their battles coordinating with each scar but then they get to the top surgery scars and the hero is doing everything not to tell the villain that they’re trans

Love your prompts and writing ❤️

Oh, I Didn't Tell You?

Be warned: scars, gun injury mention

The hero and the villain had been fighting for more than a decade. The hero remembered going out into the world, fresh-faced and optimistic. He also remembered seeing the villain for the first time. As the hero recalls, the first thing he thought was, pretty cool outfit. The second was, this should be an easy win. Unfortunately, the hero had only been half right. This fight had been dragging on for over ten years. The hero thought they had gotten too used to each other. Too comfortable. He also thought that there were no surprises left in either one of them. The hero turned out to be very wrong.

This wasn’t the first time the villain had kidnapped him. But it was certainly an annoying one. The villain had so far spent the whole time showing off his gadgets and bragging. The hero was sitting in a cell, in a secluded corner of the villain’s secret underground lair--he annoyingly still couldn’t pinpoint its location. The villain spent most of his day ordering about his subordinates, working on new gadgets, and planning out new schemes. Unfortunately, that still left time for him to come over and taunt the hero. Today was no different. The villain sat on the other side of the laser bars. He had launched into a monologue a while ago. The hero’s eyes had long glazed over. He figured he could tune it out until the villain finished. Then the hero would pretend to be offended, the villain would leave triumphantly, and the hero would be left alone for another day. Unfortunately, the hero made the mistake of yawning. The villain cut himself off. His eyes found the hero. Crap.

“Did you just yawn?” The villain asked.

“Um. . .yeah,” the hero said.

The villain crossed his arms. He looked offended. And disappointed. “Are you kidding me right now? I’ve been talking for ten minutes, and you’ve been tuning me out?”

The hero didn’t respond. The villain stared in disbelief for a moment. “Do you know how long I spent practicing that speech? I was up half the night.”

“It took you half the night to memorize-”the hero stopped himself when he saw the villain’s expression. “I mean, you’re right. I’m sorry. I should have been listening.”

The villain slumped. “I mean, it’s fine, I guess. I just thought it was a pretty good speech.”

The hero’s face burned with shame. “Do you want to start again? I promise I’ll listen this time.”

The villain leaned back on his hands. He scratched the back of his head. “No, it’s okay. I thought you would be interested in our scars, that's all.”

The hero leaned forward. “Wait. It was about our scars?”

The villain frowned angrily. “You didn’t even know what it was about, and you tuned it out?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a jerk. It was about our scars, though?”

“Yeah. Just about how they match because of all our years of battle, and stuff.”

The hero smiled. “What? That’s so cool. I wouldn’t have ignored you if I had known- hey, stop with the face, I said sorry.” 

The villain fixed his expression. “Sorry. So, do you want me to start again?” 

The hero held up a finger. “I’ll do you one better. You can start over, with a visual aid.”

The villain’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean, a visual-”

Before he could finish the sentence, the hero’s shirt was over his head. The villain cut himself off. His jaw slackened as he stared at the hero's bare chest. The hero got as close to the laser bars as he dared. The villain’s eyes followed his skin. The hero grinned. “Are you done staring?”

That snapped the villain out of it. His eyes found the hero’s face again. His face looked hot. “You caught me by surprise.”

“Sure, that’s why.”

“Can I start, or not?” the villain said.

“Sorry, go ahead,” the hero said.

The villain pointed at a scar on the hero’s left shoulder. “That’s from a brick.”

“Yeah, you collapsed a building on me,” the hero responded. 

“I accidentally collapsed a building on us.” The villain pointed to his forehead, at a long-healed gash from the same incident. “That one I did on purpose.”

A puckered scar from a bullet next to the hero’s collarbone. “Yeah, that hurt like a- well, it hurt. I thought I was going to die.”

“Don’t be dramatic. It was a warning shot.”

The hero blinked. “I lost almost a litre of blood.”

The villain waved a dismissive hand. “Not a fatal amount.”

Why was he listening to the villain again? “Fine. Next scar.”

The villain pointed to a pigmented scar low on the hero’s abdomen. If the lasers weren’t between them, he could have touched the hero’s skin. “That was a lighter.”

The hero grimaced. “I remember. I also remember turning it on you.”

The villain rubbed that spot on his chest. “Yeah. See? We match.”

The hero nodded. “You’re right. We do.”

The villain’s eyes further traveled across the hero’s front. He suddenly stopped, squinting. “Those. . .those I don’t remember.”

The hero looked down. “Where?”

“Those, on your lower chest. The two straight ones.”

The hero couldn’t see them from this angle, but he knew what the villain meant. He snorted. The villain frowned. “What? Did I do that or not?”

The hero couldn't tamp down his smile. “No. No, you did not.”

The villain looked perplexed. The hero doubled over, barely missing the lasers as he laughed uncontrollably. He gasped for air. He had to close his eyes, because every glance back at the villain set him off again. It took him a minute to control himself. His midsection hurt. He looked back at the perplexed villain and had to stop himself from going off once more. Remember how the hero thought they knew everything about each other? Well, he had forgotten to mention this. He was smiling so wide it stung. The villain was clearly very lost.

“What?” The villain said.

The hero took a deep breath to compose himself. He cleared his throat. “Okay, so. I’m trans.”

It took a second. The hero watched the gears in the villain’s mind turn. He looked again at the scars. His eyes widened when it ticked. “You’re kidding.”

The hero shook his head. “Nope.”

The villain looked offended for the second time. “What the hell? You never told me.”

The hero shrugged. “Why do you care?”

The villain gave him that look again. Like he didn’t understand anything. “I thought I knew everything about you.”

The hero shrugged. “Well, now you do.”

“Are you sure? For all I know, you could be missing all your toes,” the villain said.

“How would I walk?”

“Don’t skirt the point,” the villain said. 

The hero rolled his eyes. “Fine. Sorry I didn’t tell you I’m trans. Happy?”

“Yes.” The villain looked at his watch. “Oh, I have to go. This meeting’s gone way over.”

“These are scheduled meetings?” The hero said.

What a stupid question. The hero should have known that they were. Which the villain was happy to point out to him. Before the villain got up, the hero cleared his throat. The villain looked at him. “What?”

“There is another thing. That I haven’t told you.”

The villain raised his eyebrow. “What?”

The hero leaned forward and whispered, “I’m also gay.”

The eye contact the pair made was heavy enough to tip a scale weighed down with cement. It was suddenly very hot in the lair. The villain was, for once, out of words. For a few seconds, at least. Then he remembered himself, jumped back, and scrambled to his feet. “Um...noted. Well. Bye.”

The hero watched him scurry off with a smile. All in all? Probably his favourite of the villain’s visits.