#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SHORT SNIPPET

[kevin-day-is-bi]

i just saw that halloween ask game you're doing for this month 👀👀

so trick or treat, dealers choice on ship 🥰🍬

- mel 💜

Dick absentmindedly pressed on the cut on his arm as he watched his target. The man was standing in a small office in a warehouse, talking on the phone. He didn't look happy. Dick could relate.

"Nightwing, report. Your tracker is offline."

Ah, that had been an argument and a half. Of course, if Bruce would stop sneaking tracers onto Dick's suit, Dick wouldn't have to keep ruining them. They couldn't be cheap.

"I'm on a case."

"Your tracker should be online. I need to know your location."

In the window, the man hung up the phone. He was smug now. He had never made that expression, before.

"No, you don't," Dick responded, before pulling the comm out of his ear. He glared at the device in his hand before gently tucking it away in a pocket.

The man was gone. Dick straightened. This could be a chance to place a bug in his office. Not really Dick's style, honestly. He preferred the physicality. But with any luck, he wouldn't have to get physically near the man ever again. Without fully meaning to, he pressed on his wound again.

He heard the footsteps a split second before the voice spoke.

"You're getting awfully snoopy, dick."

Dick stood from his crouch slowly, hands out and low. He turned head first, the sight of the white streak of hair still sending a wave of shock through his heart.

"Jason."

Jason had a gun aimed at his head. Not particularly surprising. Dick had been trained out of being startled by guns a long time ago, but that didn't mean he was stupid. It was still a loaded gun.

"You have ten seconds to say what you're doing here."

"I wanted to...to see you." Dick was a little unhappy to be so truthful so early. He wanted to fire a quip off, maybe some clever wordplay.

Jason cocked the gun. He wouldn't shoot Dick. Maybe.

"Why."

God, Jason looked...he looked exactly how he was supposed to. The rage that had been present in his fifteen-year-old self had looked so out of place, but now the hard line of his mouth fit him perfectly.

"I want you to-"

Come home. No. Dick didn't, really. The Manor hadn't been his home in a while, longer than it hadn't been Jason's. And what would that achieve? An argument ending in a fight ending in a trail of bodies. Dick didn't want Bruce to have Jason. He wanted to have Jason.

"I just needed to-to make sure it was..."

Jason tilted his head, looking every inch the villain that the Red Hood's file painted him out to be.

"I'm sure the old man ran a dozen tests to make sure it was me."

No, that wasn't what Dick meant. He couldn't find the words, didn't really want to find the words. Jason had sliced open Dick's arm. Dick had felt him, felt the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his body. Dick...missed that, maybe? Having Jason close again had felt like a drug, and now Dick was pretending he wasn't craving it.

He hadn't touched Jason all that much before his death. Too much teenage angst, not enough clear roads between Blüdhaven and Gotham. There was no precedent for this.

"I missed you," Dick said, aiming for honesty. As close to it as he felt capable of getting.

Jason laughed. It was a creepy sound that died too soon in the cold air.

"Last time you saw me I beat your ass. Time before that you didn't know it was me. Time before that I was fifteen. You either have a death wish or haven't gotten the message yet. Robin doesn't exist anymore." Jason's shoulders stayed low and his voice remained even. He sounded a little bored, actually. It felt like there was a hook behind Dick's ribcage, yanking him forward. He needed to be interesting. He couldn't have Jason leave again.

"The first thing," Dick said before he had really planned to say anything at all.

Jason scoffed. Dick kept going, distantly aware of the fact that he was tripping down sentences without actually knowing where he was going. "Maybe you're just really good at fighting. All my bad guys this week were too easy."

Jason's chin dropped. Dick had been rubbing the bandage on his arm against his hip without realizing it.

The gun wobbled. Jason's chest rose and fell.

"Take off your mask."

Dick blinked. This felt like a test. Slowly, he reached up and peeled the mask off. It hurt like hell, and he was left blinking in the altered light. Jason kept the gun trained on him.

"Say it again. Look at me and tell me again why you're here."

This was Dick's chance. Honesty could win. He still wasn't sure what winning meant, but whatever. He would make it work. He stared at Jason's mask and said,

"I miss you."

"What's your goal here?" Jason sounded amused, which wasn't what Dick had been aiming for at all. Annoyance and frustration mixed in his stomach.

"I don't know, okay? I just-" Dick gestured helplessly. Jason's face, half amused and half blank, was no help. "I want...I want you..."

He had nothing else.

Jason's face was doing something complicated. His mouth couldn't seem to agree with what his forehead wanted to do.

"Will you do anything to have me?" Jason's voice was a little too loud now.

Dick hesitated. He imagined Jason pressing the gun into his hand and shuddered.

"No," he whispered.

"No, you wouldn't...let's say for example, shoot a drug dealer for me."

Dick felt sick. There was something about that for me that made him want it horribly. He wanted to do things for Jason.

"Oh," Jason said, and then he started laughing so hard that the gun wavered. "Oh, if only Bats could see you now. That's pretty damn pathetic."

Dick needed to leave. He had well and truly lost control of the situation, and he needed to get the hell out. But when he started to take a step back, the gun went back to being steadily present.

"Don't. I will shoot you." Dick froze. Jason started moving forward, each step solid and loud. "I think we should play a game. You want me, huh? Then let's see what you're willing to do to get me."

Dick contemplated what would happen if he hurled himself off the roof.

"On your knees."

Dick dropped to his knees. This was a very bad idea.

"Take out your escrima sticks and toss 'em over here."

Dick hesitated for half a second before doing so.

"Unzip your suit. To your stomach." Dick's pause didn't go unnoticed and Jason sighed. "You used to wear that stupid suit where the neckline when halfway down your torso. Don't get shy now."

Dick undid the hidden catches and pulled the zipper down. And then, for good measure, he pulled his arms out so he was topless. He needed some sense of agency.

Of course, now Jason was masked, armed, fully dressed, and standing above Dick. Dick obviously could fight like this, but there was something...

Jason kept moving until he was right in front of Dick, so close that he had to bend his elbow to keep the gun trained on him.

"Tell me again why you're here. The full reason."

It was so cold. Dick's stomach was churning.

"I miss you. I...I want you."

Jason's breath hitched. He was shaking. The shock of it made Dick's mouth drop open.

"Please come back to me," he whispered, barely knowing what he was saying.

Half certain Jason was going to blow his brains out for it, Dick reached out and laid a hand on Jason's knee. The nearness of him was intoxication. Dick wasn't really sure he would tell Jason no to just about anything right now. He wanted to see Jason's eyes.

The gun moved and Dick shut his eyes. Several seconds after a shot would've happened, the knee under his hand moved, and he opened them again. The gun had been sheathed. Jason crouched in front of him, face inches away. Dick could still feel the shaking.

"Are you cold?" he asked. He needed Jason to see that he cared about him, noticed the shivering, wanted to help.

"Always," Jason said, barely an actual word. Dick's heart broke, and then his thigh felt like it was on fire. He yelled, unprepared for the sudden pain, suddenly leaning on Jason as the pain spread. Jason's mouth was parted slightly. Dick looked down to see a knife embedded in his thigh. Jason wrenched it free and Dick made a breathless noise of horror. Jason ripped one of his gloves off and sliced the knife across his fingertips. Dick hadn't processed what was happening yet, his brain still stuck on "Jason stabbed me?", so he just watched as Jason shoved his bloody fingers into the wound. Dick screamed, the pain mounting and spreading in waves. He hadn't been prepared, he was usually better than this.

"You want me?" Jason asked, fingers still pressed into the gash. "Fucking have me."

His other hand came up to pull Dick closer, digging his face into Dick's neck, and then just as suddenly he stood, leaving Dick hunched over and breathing unsteadily. He held up his bloody hand.

"I'll treasure this. Maybe make a painting with it. The Failure of Yet Another Robin. Every time I see it, I'll remember how the original came crawling to me, thinking he could fix me."

Dick didn't understand what was happening. Jason's blood was inside him.

Jason brought his hand up to his face and his tongue flicked out, tasting the blood. Dick's stomach roiled. He was really beginning to think that wasn't disgust.

"Mm." Jason grinned. "Taste's like B's disappointment. I can't even tell our blood apart now."

He turned and walked away. Dick was starting to hyperventilate a little. He heard Jason's steps pause, and then, from a small distance away,

"Next time you come a-stalking, I'll see if you look this pretty with a bullet hole inside you."

[jessicas-pi]

Hey! So I was having trouble thinking of an AU to send you, but then I was struck by a blast from the past.

Protector!Sabine AU?

OR

Do you have anything for the karaoke/family reunion 'verse?

YOOOO I HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE PROTECTOR SABINE AU!!!! ok i had to brainstorm a bit but then i thought of An Idea

---

"So. I know this may be a sensitive subject..."

Ketsu fully expected the withering glare she sure enough received, and went on delicately.

"...but, how did you end up with the Protectors, anyway?"

Sabine sighed, slouched back in the pilot's seat of the Phantom, and kicked one leg up onto the control panel.

"Well," she began, keeping up the glare but enhancing it with a side-eye. "A certain person left me to die in the void of space, and one of the Protector patrols found me. They brought me to Concord Dawn, nursed me back to health, and by the time they figured out I was the one who built the Duchess, they had gotten too attached to me to just throw me out. So, they kept me."

Ketsu chortled. "Heh. Guess you and Ezra have more in common than you wanna admit. People just want to keep you around."

"Oh, really?" Sabine challenged, arching an eyebrow. "Because Hera said that Ezra was the one to ask if they could keep you."

"I decided to keep him first," Ketsu retorted, crossing her arms. "I just... kept him, on his ship."

"Riiiight."

---

and because i love talking i'm just nice like that, here's a snippet of Chopper's SpaceTube Channel from the karaoke AU!

---

[Video opens with a close-up selfie-style recording of an orange-and-white droid. Subtitles translate as he beeps and warbles in Binary.]

-Many of you people in the comments have been asking stupid questions. Today, you will begin to receive your stupid answers.

[Video cuts to a black screen with white text: Chopper Asks The Most Asked Stupid Questions: Part One]

[New video opens with holocam footage of a green Twi'lek in front of a heavily blurred-out background. Overlaid is a screenshot of a comment reading So are the Jedi and the captain a couple or not???]

-The people in the comments want to know if you are dating Spectre-1.

-Chopper, you know you're not supposed to be recording videos on the base!

-I have taken security precautions. Answer the questi--

[Video cuts to black as the Twi'lek woman bends down and shuts off the camera.]

[New video opens of a purple Lasat slouched in his bunk. The same comment screenshot is displayed.]

-Hey you. Are Spectre-1 and Spectre-2 a couple?

[The Lasat looks irate.]

-I don't know, and I don't care.

[Video cuts to black.]

[New video opens with holocam footage of a boy in an orange jacket and a girl in multicolor armor sparring. She currently has him in a headlock. The comment screenshot is still there.]

-Miscreants! The people want to know! Are Spectres 1 and 2 a couple?!

[The sparring match abruptly pauses. They both look over at the camera. This requires some contortion on the part of the boy, being still in the headlock. The girl replies for them both.]

-Look, when we figure that out, you'll be the first to knoOW--

[The boy uses the girl's distraction to his advantage, flipping her over and sending her crashing to the floor with a yelp. He throws his hands in the air and whoops in victory, only to go sprawling on the floor beside her as she kicks the back of his knees. The sparring match resumes, and the video cuts to black.]

[New video begins with footage of a man with a ponytail and a green mask, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He seems to completely ignore the camera's presence.]

-Hey, are you dating the captain?

-No comment.

[Video cuts to black.]

[sanowflower]

(Okay, this started out as an incorrect quote but it just got out of my hand... haha.)

It had been the grocery-shopping day, a day that Eddie dreaded, only made slightly better by the presence of his boyfriend. Thankfully, with Buck's suspicious expertise, they were done quickly, now walking back home. Eddie smiles at that, home, something warm crawls over his chest at the thought, it is no doubt Buck thinks of his house as home, a safe space.

They had decided to walk instead of taking their car, the supermarket wasn't that far and they enjoyed strolling down the road, shoulders bumping into each other, Buck excitedly pulling him to new or unique stores by his hand, or Eddie grabbing Buck's waist, trying to steer him away before he gets too caught up and forget their tasks.

It wasn't until they were near Eddie's place that Buck realized his boyfriend had sneakily taken all of the grocery bags from his hands, again. It's ridiculous, Buck can lift so much more, Eddie knows that.

"Eddie, seriously, what use is my 6'2 and 200 pounds body if not fo-"

As if he knew the exact words that would come out of Buck's mouth, he stopped walking, and interrupted Buck. Which he did very rarely.

"For me to love and cherish every part of you. It's not for being used and bruised, amor, your body is made to be worshipped by me."

Buck listened to him say these words and bites back... something building up in his throat. He knew Eddie genuinely cared for him in a way nobody did, but to hear him say it verbally, with such absolution. It was hard not to get emotional. All of his life, he was made to believe he was nothing more than a body, to be used, to protect, spare parts, that all he could ever offer was his body, something strong that made everyone except him feel safe.

Eddie, having some idea about the issues that surrounded his body, smiled softly at Buck. He then shifted all the bags in one hand and grabbed Buck's wrist, pulling it upwards as he dropped a soft kiss on his skin.

"I know you can carry it all, but you don't need to, you don't have to, let me carry it for you sometimes."

Buck was already melting into a pile of goop at his boyfriend's beautiful words, but being attacked twice was a bit too much. He knew the man wasn't only talking about these bags. He blinked the tears away, letting Eddie entangle their fingers as they started to walk again. He felt grateful, and seen, not only did Eddie want to help carry his burdens, he knew Buck could handle it, that he was capable enough...

To be helped and not be made to feel useless, Buck didn't think he has experienced it in a way he was right in this moment.

"I don't look it in front of your beautiful body but I am pretty strong, baby, I can take you in a fight before you try to reiterate." Eddie added the last part, seeing that his blond darling was calming down, and only to make him laugh, remembering their conversation that had led to a damn good time of their life.

Buck laughed brightly, eyes crinkling beautifully as his body collided lightly against Eddie's, then he grabbed Eddie's neck with a gentle touch, letting their lips touch softly for a few seconds before he pulled away, not wanting to get carried away, as they always do.

"Well, you are pretty and strong, I'd be a fool to argue with that"

"Which you do, at times, but you'd be my fool regardless"

"Oh my god, Eddie, stop." Buck wasn't used to this kind of bashfulness, no one loved him as tenderly as Eddie Diaz.

"Never, mi corazón"

[jamiesfootball]

Word Game Wednesday

Tight

Ted smiled, but the expression felt too tight, like pulling a sweater out for winter only to realize it didn’t fit anymore.

“I’m going to level with you, Greg. Reason I’m here is because an old friend of mine used to make it a habit to swing by for his own meetings. Never spoke much about them, and I didn’t want to pry, but I could tell they really helped. So when I heard the news about my–“

Ted fumbled. For all that the English language was full to the brim with eccentricities and curveballs, he didn’t think that any one of them had been made that could precisely capture the Mancunian-shaped space in his life.

“Jamie,” Greg finished for him.

Shoot, maybe it was that simple.

“Yeah,” Ted said wistfully. “My Jamie. When I heard about– anyways, after that I started looking around. Found out you folks had added a night for friends and family, so I thought I’d make like that fella on The Bear and see what’s what. Maybe grab a pamphlet. I don’t know how I got my nights mixed up, but I walked in expecting an AA meeting. I wasn’t expecting this.“

He gestured at the sandwich board, although did it still bear that name if it wasn't loitering outside a sandwich shop?

The board didn’t have an answer for that. What it did have to say, in white block letters, was:

Survivors of Domestic Violence every other Tuesday 7pm - 9pm

[curseofdelos]

PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE PERCY & NICO FIC

So this is an AU I'm still playing around with, but the basic concept is that Nico starts living with Percy, Sally, and Paul post-botl, and it would largely focus on him developing a sibling-like relationship with Percy <3

I've only written little pieces of this one so far so not a lot to say as of yet, but here's a little snippet (for context: Nico is in a sleeping bag on Percy's bedroom floor):

“Do you even want me here?” he couldn’t help but ask.  Percy was quiet for so long that for a moment, Nico thought he had misjudged, but an answer came soon enough. “I don’t want you living on the streets by yourself.”  It wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t an enthusiastic yes either. Nico huffed, and rolled on his side to face away from Percy.  Behind him, Percy let out a heavy sigh, and Nico could hear the sound of his bedsheets ruffling as he moved. “It’s not safe out there for people like us, and since you don't feel welcome at camp, this was the best way I could help you.”  “I don't need your help!” Nico hissed, glaring at the wall as he curled up into a ball.  “I know you're perfectly capable of looking after yourself, but that doesn't mean you have to.”  Nico clenched his hands into fists so tight his fingernails dug into his palms.  “Look. I know you're not the biggest fan of me, but give my Mom and Paul a chance. They're good people. They'll take care of you, and if you don't want to do it for yourself… do it for Bianca,” Percy said softly, “she wouldn't want you suffering out there alone.”  Bringing up Bianca was a low blow, and Nico was sure Percy knew that from how carefully he had said her name, but as much as it hurt, he knew Percy was right.  Bianca would want him to be safe (and happy, but that was asking a lot of him right now). He would be safe here, even if normalcy felt impossible after the year he had.  Bianca trusted Percy, even when Nico didn't. Maybe it was time he trusted him too. 

EDIT: you can now read the finished fic here <3

[varpusvaras]

Bail stares up at the sky and looks his death in the eye.

He wakes up with a start and almost falls down, but his descent is stopped by the edge of a desk that is suddenly right in front of him. He grabs at it and stops himself from hitting his chin on it, and stares, with his arms shaking and his breath caught up somewhere in his throat.

He is not sure how long he stands there, staring at the desk which sudden existence he cannot comprehend, when there is a sound somewhere to his left and footsteps coming closer.

"Bail?" It's a woman's voice, so familiar but one he knows he shouldn't be hearing speaking to him. "Sir?"

Bail lifts his head and looks over at the voice.

He looks right into Sheltay's face, currently laced over with thin worry.

Bail stares at her. She has been gone for so long, but her face is now clear in his mind and she stands there, just like she was back then, just like she was before they had lost her. He had almost forgotten how much Winter looks like her mother, but there is no doubt of it now.

A new fear grips him. Was Winter off planet, when it all happened? He is not sure suddenly. She must've been, because Bail isn't sure what he is going to say to Sheltay otherwise. He focuses on her again, and thinks, frantically. Shouldn't she know it already? If Winter is also gone, now, shouldn't Sheltay know it by now, shouldn't her daughter be here with her? No, no, Winter must've been off the planet, just like Leia, otherwise he-

Bail looks at Sheltay again. No. No, something is not- something is not correct. Sheltay had cut her hair, just a couple of weeks before the accident, but it is now long and tied high up, like she used to style it when she was still working on as his aide back in the Senate. Bail looks at her more closely. It has been so long since he has last seen her, but...

Sheltay looks truly concerned now.

"Sir?" She calls again, and takes a step closer. "Is everything alright?"

Is everything alright? Bail thinks, almost hysterically. Is everything alright? You are dead. I am dead. Or at least we both should be.

Sheltay doesn't look dead, though, and Bail certainly doesn't feel like dead, either, as he draws in a breath to his now burning lungs. He draws in another, then another, before he feels like he knows again how breathing properly works. Breathing shouldn't feel necessary for someone who was dead, and Bail does feel the instant relief in his body with every breath he takes in.

"I", he starts. He what? He doesn't know what to say. If this isn't what comes after death, what is supposed to happen when one becomes one with the Force, then what is this?

He breathes in deeply again, just to ground himself further. He looks down on his hands, still holding onto the desk. He recognises the desk, now. It's his desk, the one he used to have in his office back in the Senate. He looks furher down, towards his feet. He recognises the carpet beneath them, as well.

He lifts his head and looks around once more. He is in his office, back in the Senate Building, but something is not correct with it either. Leia had been the one using the office more often now, and she had changed some of the decorations and brought in things of her own, and none of those were there now. The place looks just like it had back when Bail had been the only one to use it, back in the days when the Republic had still been standing.

"Bail", Sheltay is now standing right next to him, and reaching out towards him with her hand. "Are you not well? Do I need to call someone?"

Bail looks at her again. Yes, he can now see it. She is younger than what she had been at the time of her death. She is not wearing any of the gifts her husband would so often give to her. She looks just like she had back then, back when the Republic had still been standing, back when the War had been ripping the Galaxy apart.

Bail turns around. He has a row of glass cabinets situated behind his desk, and he looks at himself from the reflection of them.

He had already expected it, seeing himself with all the years gained during the reign of the Empire taken away. There is not even a hint of grey in his hair, and there are so many lines missing from his face that he almost thinks it funny for a moment. Then Sheltay is grabbing his arm, forcing him to look back at her.

"I'm serious", she says. She is looking him over now, her eyes racing over him up and down. "Do you need a doctor?"

Bail shakes his head.

"No", he manages to say. "No, I- I just need to sit down for a moment."

He really does. He takes a step forward, to walk around his desk, and Sheltay guides him over to he couch and quite firmly sits him down.

"Do I need to call someone else?" Sheltay asks again. "Breha?"

Bail looks out of the window, at the pale colours of Coruscant's morning sky. He then glances at the chrono on the wall. It's still early on Alderaan, too early. Breha is not getting up usually until two hours later, earliest. Bail doesn't want to wake her.

It hits him then that in this place he is now, Alderaan is still there. Alderaan and Breha are still there-

-and Leia is not.

It's a strange type of grief he feels then, not one he had thought possible to even exist before this. Leia is not dead, but she is still gone just the same.

Sheltay probably sees him look at the time, as she nods.

"Later, then", she says. "Fox?"

Bail stops breathing.

He stares at Sheltay, because he had been looking at her and cannot make himself move now to look anywhere else.

How could he have forgotten? If Bail is here, if Sheltay is here, if Breha and Alderaan are here, then Fox is here as well.

"Fox", He tries out his name out loud, and Sheltay seems to take that as a confirmation, as she takes out her commlink and starts typing on it.

Bail manages to move, and takes the moment to look up the date.

It's- he is barely second year into the War. It doesn't seem logical, for him to be put in here, in this time, if he truly is dead, not if not for some kindness from the Force, giving him a glimpse of a time when he truly thought there was still a possibility for a brighter future to be right around the corner, when most of the people he loved were still there with him.

It's just strange, to have only him be aware of it all, and not Sheltay. Bail doesn't remember a day like this ever happening before, not that it matters, if this is just some illusion before he finally ceases to exist completely. It's strange, to make everything appear right like it was so long ago, and not like it had been just before his death. It was strange, to make himself feel so alive, just to have him be dead.

Perhaps, a thought enters his mind and doesn't leave. Perhaps you really aren't dead. Perhaps you're here because of all the mistakes you made, and you need to repent for them, before you can let go and move on.

It almost makes him laugh. That, he thinks, that he can do.

Sheltay puts her commlink away, and sits next to him on the couch.

"He said that he will be here as soon as he can", she says. She puts her hand on top of Bail's, and it's warm.

Bail breathes in and nods.

"Thank you", he says, and then it hits him that Fox is alive.

He had thought of it just a moment earlier, but now it truly realises for him that Fox is alive. He has been gone so long as well, so long, too long. Bail has already grieved him in his heart, to a point he has almost stopped hurting so much. Bail had thought, briefly, during his last moments, that perhaps they could still meet before the very end, if he just hadn't already crossed over to where there was nothing left, but this-

This is an entirely different thing.

He needs to call Breha and tell her, he thinks, briefly, before he has to wonder if Breha remembers either. If it's really just him. That does make the most sense, as Bail is the one who had done all the mistakes, not Breha.

Perhaps he's in his thoughts for longer than he thinks he is, because suddenly the door is sliding open, and Fox is stumbling in, his hands already pulling his helmet off of his head.

"I'm here", he says. He's breathing hard, like he had just been running. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure-" Sheltay starts, but Bail doesn't hear what she is saying. He stands up, and walks towards Fox. Fox, who is hurrying to put his helmet down on the desk, in order to get his hands free, and then walking towards him.

Bail looks at him as he walks. He remembers it all now, how Fox used to look back then during this time. The way his hair curls over his forehead, where the silver strands are on his temples, how his eyes shift from dark brown to golden when the sliver of sunlight from the window hits them just right. There are a few things missing, things that Bail knows only came later. The way his skin would be bruised just from pure exhaustion. The way he would be tense, even when he was trying to relax, just for a moment. This was, is, before all of that. This is before that one night, when everything had started to unravel. This is before Fox had started to cry himself to sleep every night, calling himself all the horrible names there existed in the Galaxy.

This is before all of that. Fox still looks just like he had when he had still looked at Bail and Breha with wonder in his eyes and a smile on his lips whenever they would say I love you.

He looks just as beautiful as Bail remembers.

Fox opens his mouth to say something, but he is so close already, and Bail cannot wait for anything. He pulls Fox into his arms and holds him, trying to feel him through the armor. He buries his face into Fox's neck, not caring about the cold, hard alloy of his pauldron digging into him, and thinks he can hear his heartbeat beneath the warm, tan skin.

There are hands on his back, then one at the back of his head.

"Bail?" He hears Fox's voice clearly from this close, even though he is speaking quietly, almost whispering. "Are you alright?"

Bail breathes in Fox's scent before answering, a mixture of regulation soap, bolt residue and armor polish and just him beneath it all.

"Yes."

"You're crying."

Oh. Bail lifts his face up, just a bit, and blinks. There are tears stuck to his eyelashes, heavy and warm, and he thinks he can see some having landed on Fox as well, if he looks closely enough.

"I'm sorry", he mumbles. It has been a while he has cried, or been overwhelmed like this. He had not given himself permission for being nothing else but calm, when he had heard about Leia being captured. He had not let himself cry when he had held Breha as they awaited for their death, no matter how much he had wanted to do so. Breha had needed him too much for him to fall apart even more.

"It's okay", Fox says. He is carding his fingers through Bail's hair. "What's going on?"

So much. So much is going on, and Bail doesn't know where or when to start.

He knows he needs to decide on those, sooner or later, but before any of that, he has one thing to say.

"I love you", he whispers against Fox's skin.

Fox stills, just for a moment, a moment long enough for Bail to wonder if the version of him Fox had known before in this time had even gotten to say it yet.

Then he continues, running his fingers up and down, his other hand on Bail's back holding onto him just a little tighter.

"I love you too", he whispers back. Bail closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he's ready to take on the Galaxy, once again.

[puddleslimewrites]

Prompt #17

"So I'm not allowed to love you anymore? Is that it?"

"[Villain], no. No, that's not what I meant-" Hero sounded desperate. "Please, you have to understand-"

"Oh, I understand," Villain said fiercely. They wiped at the tears rolling down their face. Bloodshot eyes glared right into Hero's soul. "I understand perfectly well. Your job is more important than anything else. Even me."

"Villain, please-"

"No." Villain stated, firm and clear. "You want me to be less affectionate? That's fine. You don't want to be seen with me? That's fine, too. You don't want to be with me. I understand."

Hero reached out, pleading, as Villain turned to go. "I do, Villain, I do! Wait, please please-"

Villain didn't spare them the luxury of a backwards glance as they walked away.

[phoenixtakaramono]

Truce Ch3 - Preview 5/?

Y’don’t know I toy, briefly, with thoughts of killing the boy, to rid that accursed bloodline from existence, Billy thought. Pictured laying Ryan’s body at the feet of his monster of a father. Homelander would be furious no doubt; he would clutch his prized only son tight against his breast and weep over his corpse. But as soon as Billy thought that, he was surprised to find that he derived no satisfaction from that image, only a cold sensation in the pit of his stomach.

That boy. Billy had looked at that honest face and felt the yawning chasm of time that separated their generation. Glimpsed Becca’s soft features beneath the adolescent traces of baby fat and his father’s near-identical likeliness. Had felt both the revulsion and the joy curl in his veins when those small arms collided against his waist. Killing the boy was not the closure that he wanted. He wanted rage. He wanted revenge. He wanted to gain the upper hand, and reduce the superhero to his truest self. He wanted to see the caped cunt on his knees, and his back—which’d always been straight and proud and imposing—bent over from grief and the helplessness of it all.

Billy wanted him to hurt.

—(snippet from Truce ch3)

[tempestaurora]

new santos & langdon fic tomorrow i THINK

hatefucking universe is expanding,, fic three is 10k and counting

[grxceful-ly]

don't think i'll be able to make the deadline with a fic for sabezra day, so here's an edit i made a bit ago! @sabezraweek

picture of me as sabine with eman esfandi (the one at the end of the edit) below the cut!!

[le-trash-prince]

me: you can write this fic because it just needs to be one scene

me: perfect okay i can do one scene *starts writing the fic*

me: *realizes it's actually going to be 2-3, maybe 4 scenes* ... it's fine

me: *realizes i need extra backstory for emotional purposes* it's FINE

[creatorbiaze]

Meet Videns; one of the most feared Draconic Deities

just some snippets of Videns's chaos antics that I couldn't think of full short stories for

"w..what are you doing, Videns?" Blaze asks, watching Videns inspect a small rock while sitting on the table in the lab. She's learned by now not to leave Videns unsupervised in the science room.

"Science!" Videns almost-whispers, smiling widely as she tosses the rock into the bucket of water on the ground beside her.

Blaze jumps back when it starts to spark and pop, catching fire, "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?"

"sodium metal," Videns replies, tilting her head and giving a closed eye smile, "it's highly reactive with water."

Cobra frowns while watching the energetic teen dart around the lab. 'This is the Guide of the Vengeful, the most dangerous Salhan Deity...?'

"What are... you doing... anyway?" Cobra decides to ask, cautious.

"got bored, tryna learn more about the acid you guys have. Salhan Draconics have mildly poisonous blood because of how we process Salha's poison, you guys are naturally scavengers and have an acid in your saliva that helps you eat basically anything that used to be alive. Fascinating, isn't it?" the teen replies, speaking quickly, before finally looking at Cobra directly. She's smiling widely, like always, and holds a metal cup out for Cobra, "hey, your family has venom in your fangs too, right? Can you do me a favor and gimme some venom? I wanna see how it interacts with things."

"w-wha-"

"Venomize the cup, Cobra," They cut off Cobra, smiling brightly.

"Where are you leading me...?" Pandora asks, following Videns down the worn path, looking at the flora around them. None of the plants were familiar to her. She sees a beautiful star-shaped flower, and reaches up to gently touch one of the petals.

"The Celestial Pantheon. Oh, by the way, if you see a star-shaped flower with sky blue-to-periwinkle petals, don't touch it, it'll kill you," Videns says with a cheerful smile. They smile even wider when they hear Pandora shriek in fear and jump back.

"Kidding, kidding, it's actually suprisingly harmless," Videns laughs, waving her hand dismissively without looking back at the human, before she points up to a blood red bell-shaped flower, "That one will kill you very painfully, though."

Ignis sat at the dining table, stirring her cup of tea, while glaring at the icy eyed hybrid across the table.

"Stop sm-"

"No," Videns smiles wider, propping her cheek on her palm, watching Ignis.

"Don't-"

"Can't control my mind reading," Videns shrugs, lying through her teeth. She could very much control it, she just preferred to know what everyone's thinking.

"At lea-"

"I already know what you're trying to say, why let you finish speaking when I can just reply?" Videns gives a closed eye smile, knowing how much she's pissing off Ignis with her interrupting.

"I h-"

"I hate you too, Iggy~"

At this point, Ignis throws her spoon at Videns, standing up and storming out of the room. Videns just waves bye, leaning to the side to avoid getting hit in the face with a hot spoon.

"How do you get Videns to calm down..?" Blaze asks Vizerxa, frowning as she watches Videns annoy Dawn Shadow.

"Quite easily, actually," Vizerxa replies calmly, looking around. She walks away, soon returning with a candle and a lighter. She doesn't even need to say anything for Videns to dart away from Dawn Shadow, getting a sheet of paper and jog over to Vizerxa, who lights the candle and sets it on the table.

"just give her fire, trust me," Vizerxa shrugs, watching Videns tear off small pieces of the paper and drop them into the candle flame, giggling as they catch fire.

"...I feel like that's actually very risky," Blaze murmurs, frowning slightly in concern.

Vizerxa shrugs, "you're the one that adopted someone who loves fire, while living in a very flammable place. Thought Dusk repeatedly burning the kitchen would get you to change the materials of your living space, but apparently that didn't work."

[offshoreblogupdates]

A snippet of the third story

This is 'rewritten' for better understanding; the original is riddled with notes and player's actions, etc

---

Keito stay sat on William’s shoulder Observing thr room, occasionally landing on the t.v. as it played a show she had never seen before. There was silence between the two of them, building an awkward tension as they both wanted to talk, yet neither knew what to say.

“So.. Are you cold.? Or need anything.?” William asks, clearing his throat before he spoke.

“No.. I’m alright. Thanks though.”  

William takes the hesitant initiative to check her temperature. He gently sets a finger to her neck. She was definitely cold

“Are you sure..?” He asks again.

“Ah.. I guess I'm a bit cold.” Keito speaks softly, somewhat flustered though spoke loud enough for him to hear. 

William nods at her response, reaching out to grab a small cloth; Instead of just handing it to her, he gently wrapped it around her with it. Kinda like tucking someone in for bed.

In the process, he gently lifts her off his shoulder and holds her against his chest, gently stroking her hair.

“If you need anything, let me know.” His voice reverberated around her.

“Ok..” Was her feebly response, her face flushed a bright red even though he couldn't see it.

[jamiesfootball]

Please tell me more about gender flipped Jamie because that seems like So Many Thoughts that I would love to hear

I have so many thoughts and yet they are so ephemeral and unspecific and this has been languishing in my askbox and this isn't technically what you asked for but here's what I wrote instead:

Chelsea sent Roy into retirement the way you sent an aging dog to be euthanized. Slowly and gradually, an inescapable march towards a day you knew was coming. Roy's agent gently broke the news to him that they wouldn't be renewing his contract, but there was no gently breaking Roy.

The retirement itself was an underwhelming affair; he stayed numb throughout the presser, answered questions, and left the spotlight. No bang--not even a whimper.

That was months ago. Now Roy Kent, former Chelsea star, was daydrinking at a bar in Richmond at half-three in the afternoon, wondering if he could convince the matron of the house to change the fucking channel.

"Rough season our girls have had," the proprietor, Mae, explained in a tone befitting a bartender cleaning a pint. In reality, she'd joined Roy at the bar with her own glass of chardonnay. "Lot of shake ups. New owner, new gaffer. Still, it could be worse. This new coach of theirs might be from the States, but we're sitting higher up on the table than we have in years. Does your lot keep up with the Super League, then?"

It was one in a series of loaded questions. Roy couldn't imagine you could be a bartender in London without knowing who Roy Kent was. Sheer wasted optimism, he'd had, moving out of Chelsea and assuming anything short of leaving the country would get him away from the haunting specter of his own fucking jersey.

"Yeah," Roy answered reluctantly. "Yeah, some of us keep up. All the teams in the Premier have sister teams, don't we?" Except for Richmond. The one outlier--the only team in the league without a big brother to speak of.

"Mm. Then you heard about the scandal?"

Roy grunted. Of course he heard. Everyone knew about Rupert Mannion ages ago; it was about bloody time someone did something. Awful for his ex-wife that it'd fallen to her to do it.

Mae topped off his chardonnay before pouring the remainder of the bottle into her own glass. "This new gaffer though, he's one of the good ones. He hangs around here sometimes, and you can tell just by listening to him--he respects those girls."

Since retiring, Roy had gotten used to living in a fog. He spent time with his niece, met with the yoga mums, let old ladies in bars talk his ears off to their heart's content, but anything he did between those events was a drudgery--a slow painful effort to drag one foot in front of the other, metaphorically and physically.

So he couldn't have said what it was about Mae's offhand praise for the Richmond Whippet's new gaffer that rankled him into talking back.

"Is he any good though?"

"What was that?"

"Their new coach," Roy gestured with his wine glass at the television in the corner. "The American. Is he any good?"

Mae shrugged one shoulder. "He's gotten better."

"So not really then."

The look Mae gave him could've scoured paint from a wall. "Well, talent isn't everything. Is it, Mr. Kent?"

She left under the guise of check on the three men in the corner. Regulars, by the looks of it; and the three of them the only ones aside from Mae wearing supporting colors for the local team.

He hadn't watched a match in ages. Oh, he'd caught highlights--it was impossible not too--but the few times he'd tried, unfairness ballooned in his chest like an atom bomb, and he gave up.

He hadn't bothered to watch anything from the women's league either. What difference would it make to try watching a different league. Sure, he didn't know any of them the way he knew the men in the Premier League, but football was football and envy was envy.

From what little he'd seen so far, he didn't envy Richmond at all. Everton had them on the ropes.

Roy winced as Number 14 knocked one off the crossbar. It'd been a good attempt. A solid cross from Number 9 had put it in the path, but with no one else nearby she'd gone for a risky shot.

From what little he'd paid attention to, only 9 and 14 were making any actual progress on the pitch, with 9 working double time to cut up the field. Every time the ball dropped back down the center, Richmond lost possession. Every. Time.

It was Number 6 that was the problem. McNally, that was it. Red-head, center-mid, captain. Roy knew her by reputation. A tough, seasoned player, who'd gotten her fair collection of caps for England. She had the experience; it didn't make any fucking sense why she'd be the weak link.

Roy looked away. He took a gulp of his chardonnay and relished in the unpleasant way it stung his nose. It'd be masochism to keep watching.

He kept watching.

Within five minutes, he'd cracked it.

Number 6 refused to pass to Number 9.

The gameplay split off like a branching tree. Either 6 got possession, crossed to another player, and they lost it to Everton's deep defensive line; or 9 got it herself and took it up the field, at which point the entire Richmond side narrowed down to the actions of 9 and 14.

What the fuck was going on?

In the aerial cameras showed two Everton players marking Number 9. Number 6 crossed to Number 24, and 24 took it to the net only for a defender to block her out easily.

A close up lingered on Number 24. She couldn't have looked more upset with herself. Young thing. Good talent, bad nerves. Fixable with the right support.

Number 6 got into Number 9's face and shouted. So where's her fucking support?

The camera panned in on 6 and 9 as what looked like a shouting match took place between the teammates. There was McNally, red-haired and red-faced and openly swearing even if the mics couldn't pick it up, and then there was Number 9. A cut of a girl, strong featured and iron-jawed, with her forehead set down like she intended to ram McNally like a bull if the captain came any closer.

What a fucking mess.

The camera panned to the gaffer, who stood with his hands in his pockets and a frown under his mustache. He called neither player off.

The match went back into play and almost immediately Number 9 took a foul. A blatant hit, tackled before she could grab possession again. Everton had singled her out just as clearly as Roy had.

Number 6 stood off to the side while 14 and 24 argued with the ref. The captain watched in open annoyance as Number 9 levered herself off the ground with a wince, her left side stained with grass and a limp.

Some fucking captain.

Number 9 took position for a free kick, and her name finally flashed across the screen in a font large enough for Roy to read. Jamie Tartt. Tartt lined up for the kick, for all the good it would do when she was a good forty meters back--

Tartt walloped the ball cleanly into the net.

A frisson of electricity ran down Roy's spine.

The lads at the end of the bar broke into cheers.

Half of the Richmond Whippets descended on Tartt. The other half shuffled around in discontent.

Number 24--Obisanya--nodded at Tartt, who nodded back. They didn't hug.

Extricating herself from (half) of her teammates, Tartt threw an arm around the only person she'd passed to all night--14, Rojas. Heads pressed together, headband to matching headband, they looked furtive and serious in their two-person huddle.

The camera panned back to the gaffer. He clapped but he didn't celebrate.

The whole thing was bizarre.

No, Mae was right; talent wasn't everything. Because Richmond had talent--what a spectacular fucking goal--and they were a fucking mess, like nothing Roy had ever witnessed before in his career.

If Mae was willing to put up with him, he might have to come back for the next match. Who knew, maybe he'd try swinging by on an off-match day to catch their gaffer and give him a piece of his mind.

Finally, something to look forward to. His sister would be so proud.

[crimeronan]

months ago i drafted 3.5k of the first version of the next chapter of wwaitsoatl and then put it down bc i ran out of steam & i was like "oh god, i'm gonna need to rebuild this from scratch." opening it now i can confirm i will need to rebuild most of it from scratch BUT. there are a couple interactions between characters in here that made my heart actually skip a beat.

thank u past me.

[reneesbooks]

snippet saturday

still not a thing but this is my blog and i make the rules and i'm THINKING about birdie and fabin. i swear i'll get back to jack and arthur in a second just let me scream about birdie and fabin for a minute

Emilia tucks her wings against her back, settling in the grass next to Birdie. “When do you think we’ll have to return to Morbhard?”

Birdie stares out over the fields, her pulse quickening. Emilia senses that she’s asked a question that Birdie doesn’t want to answer. Birdie lets out a long breath. “I’m not sure.”

A lie, but Emilia doesn’t question it.

Birdie glances at the sky. “The sun will go down soon. I should make preparations. It’s the full silver moon tonight.”

Emilia shrinks into her human form and sets her hand on Birdie’s shoulder. “I can make the tea if you’d like.”

Birdie smiles. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

Emilia returns to the cottage and puts the kettle on the fire, digging her toe into the floor as she mixes the herbs. As much as she trusts them, as much as they’ve all grown closer over the weeks and months at the cottage, Birdie is still hiding things.

The kettle finally starts to whistle and Emilia pours a cup of tea. She heads back out to the garden. Birdie is standing next to Fabin, clearly just arrived from the forest, smiling up at him as he complains that the deer are getting better at hiding. Her laughter dies abruptly as the silver moon’s light hits her, her preparations forgotten in the grass a few steps away.

Fabin backs away as Birdie’s silver light explodes outward, a pulse of magic flattening the grass in a circle around her. Her tripled voice shrieks, her hair lifting off her shoulders. The entire whites of her eyes burn silver.

Blood starts to run from her nose. Fabin shrinks and tries to step closer, shouting her name. Emilia grabs a washcloth and grips it tightly behind her back, the fabric straining as she twists it nervously.

Birdie’s eyes begin to bleed as well, silver light pulsing from her. Fabin grits his teeth and takes three more shaking steps through the waves to reach Birdie. He grabs her shoulders and Emilia hears him shout her name.

Blood is streaming from her eyes and ears now, the third recitation barely begun. Fabin winces as silver magic lashes out at him, cuts opening on his cheeks. He keeps hold of Birdie, shaking her shoulders, trying to wake her up.

The silver light fades and Birdie’s eyes roll back. She collapses and Fabin catches her, lowering her slowly to the grass.

“Shit.” Jack and Arthur freeze in the doorway of the cottage. “Is she okay?”

“Does she fucking look okay?” Fabin growls, glaring at them. He snatches Birdie’s handkerchief from where she’d left it in the grass and starts to gently wipe the blood from her face. Emilia picks up the cup of tea again and moves cautiously. Birdie’s eyelids are fluttering, though she is limp in Fabin’s arms.

“The tea for her throat,” Emilia says quietly, when Fabin looks up at her with another growl. “I’ll look at those cuts.”

“I’m fine.” He holds the teacup to Birdie’s lips and Emilia flinches at the audibly painful gulps. “Birdie, can you hear me?”

Her silver eyes flick up to his face before fluttering closed again. She tucks her face into his chest.

Fabin leans down to murmur something to her that Emilia doesn’t hear. He presses his cheek to the side of Birdie’s head and Emilia stifles a gasp, averting her eyes.

Fabin stands with Birdie in his arms. “She needs to rest,” he says, not looking at any of them. He winces as he adjust his hold on her and Emilia wonders what other damage Birdie’s backlash did.

He says nothing else as he carries her into the house. Emilia bites her lip as Jack and Arthur turn to her with wide eyes. “I’ll make some more tea.”