#at some point he manages to set up his own workshop

[skyyworker]

anakin staining his clothes with grease, some of it ends up in his hair, some of it on his cheeks.

anakin stuffing random objects in his mouth while he’s fixing a droid because he only has two hands but he needs the bolts and screwdrivers of different sizes within reach.

anakin spending most of his days back at the temple locked in his room tinkering with droid parts or in the hangar making... adjustments to his ship.

anakin falling asleep on his most recent project and obi-wan gently moving him into a more comfortable position before covering him with a blanket.

anakin bringing his little projects on missions because he wants to test them on the field and being put off when, at times, they get blown up in the heat of the moment.

[aurumacadicus]

Oh boy (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

--

Moving back to New York was one of the worst decisions Tony had ever made. He'd do it again in a heartbeat, of course. Supervillainous crimes always seemed to happen there and he wanted to help, so here he was in his tower that he shared with the Avengers, ready for the next call to action.

He just wished supervillains would take the winter off, so he could go someplace warm, like his Malibu house or South America or something. Hell, at this point he'd accept a trip to fucking Arizona. He'd fit right in there, he groused to himself, shaking hands curled around his coffee maker to try and soak up some of the warmth. All those old people.

Early onset arthritis. Tony eased one hand closed into a fist, wincing. He'd been diagnosed a decade ago after a particularly cold winter when he'd thought he'd had mono or something. "It'll get worse," his doctor had warned. Tony had staved off a lot of aches and pains by simply moving somewhere where the weather wouldn't affect his joints, and the pain was manageable with over the counter painkillers.

Here, in New York, with a blizzard blowing outside, Tony felt as if every degree the thermometer dropped was a twist of a knife in each and every joint, but especially his knees and hands. It was unfair. He had a state of the art air system, with his penthouse and workshop set to a perfect seventy-four degrees, but his body somehow knew it was sleeting outside and so was revolting.

He couldn't even pick up his coffee cup this morning. He'd needed to use his fucking cane to get out of bed.

The worst part was he could feel Steve's eyes on him like a physical touch. He'd never thought of the downside of sleeping with a super soldier until this morning, when he'd groaned as he'd forced himself to stand and found, to his horror, that Steve had forgone his early morning run to have a lie in with him. So Steve had seen the cane he'd needed to push himself to his feet, the extra padding on the handle to ease his grip, how Tony had come into the kitchen and grabbed a mug with extra wide handles on each side like a child's cup and then hadn't been able to fill it himself.

He wondered how long it would take Steve to decide his own body was a threat to the team and firmly but politely tell him to stop putting on the suit.

"Are you always in pain?" Steve asked quietly, finally coming over to pick up the coffee pot and pour him a cup.

"Worse in the cold weather," Tony said, trying not to sound too tetchy. There was no point in lying. Steve had watched him wrap both hands around the pot's handle and still not have the willpower to pick it up despite the pain. "Part of the reason I lived in Malibu for so long," he added, a thread of defeat weaving into his voice as Steve opened the fridge to get his creamer for him. He hadn't wanted to be in the cold even for a moment. Steve had obviously been able to tell.

Steve turned to face him, expression impassive. "So it's not just the arc reactor then."

"Quite honestly, I didn't even think about the reactor once this morning," Tony sighed dropping his eyes to his feet. He'd been too focused on the pain in his hands, how insurmountable the task of standing had seemed for a moment. Sure, his chest hurt, but it always hurt. The arthritis was sometimes worse than others. And today had been the first sleety-frozen-cold-to-your-bones day of the season.

Steve took a moment to stir his creamer in (the spoon was too small for him to grip, Tony lamented) before he turned, sliding the mug over to him. He watched Tony cradle the mug's handles in both hands before he carefully lifted it for a sip. "Are you in pain in the suit?" he finally asked.

Tony didn't do him the disservice of lying, instead carefully turning his eyes away as he answered, "My hands always hurt. The suit is one of the only times I don't feel bad, though. It's automated, so most of the movements I make are helped with the machinery. 's why you've seen me doing so much work with the gauntlets on lately." He hunched his shoulders, embarrassed. "It wasn't to protect me from soldering. It was so I could hold the solderer without dropping it."

"I see," Steve said solemnly. He stared at Tony's coffee cup for several long, silent seconds, then turned abruptly and left the room.

Probably to go tell Fury he needed to be removed from the team, Tony figured morosely.

He had just finished washing his cup when he heard the elevator open again. He turned, limping into the living room.

"Your boyfriend broke into the Xavier Institute to try and bribe Storm into changing the weather and Xavier is pissed," Natasha said flatly, Steve's ear held tightly in her hand.

"...Did. Did you run all the way there?" Tony sputtered, confused.

"I was on a mission," Steve grumbled, as if he had not just risked life and limb to ask one of the most powerful mutants in the world to ignore the natural weather patterns just because Tony's arthritis was flaring up. "She said no though. Told me to get you more omega-threes, whatever that means."

"Okay," Tony squeaked.

"I am more concerned with being on the mutants' bad side," Natasha began, scowling.

"Storm just thought I was cute," Steve said morosely, at the same time Tony answered, "Xavier won't come near me because my brain's loud and I bother him. I do that on purpose though."

"Oh my God," Natasha whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose, as Steve started googling foods he could make for Tony.

[tanzdoesthings]

Birthdays

for the Ancient AU. Five Pebbles and Seven Red Suns celebrates a birthday.

a gift for @ardienothesieno !

“I thought you didn’t do birth-cycles?” Pebbles said as he tilted his head and looked to Suns. His cup clinked against the smooth table, drink sloshing a bit, letting the ice clink against the straw. The room was filled with the low hum of conversation, casual and yet refined. Suns fit in better than Pebbles ever did.

They sipped their drink, as poised as the cycle they met, embodying a silent holiness that Pebbles could never dream of achieving. “No, it is not my usual style,” they reply, “but it seemed valuable to celebrate.”

Void below. What is he supposed to say to… this? All of this! Seven Red Suns taking time out of their busy schedule just to take him out to lunch? He’s an artist and lab tech, for wyrm’s sake, and yet they continue to meet, discussing anything under the sun, and then lower as well. Religion, philosophy, paintings, life, their work on the lifeblood of their civilization. Turning Spires is activating soon, and they’re here. Celebrating his birthcycle.

“Pebbles?” they prompt, bringing him back to the moment. “Is everything alright?”

He nods, taking another sip of his drink. “Just thinking about all that’s happened.”

They raise their glass in agreement, tipping it towards him and then taking another sip. “It’s incredible, really. We always wonder if the cycle has us trapped, and here we are, celebrating it.”

“Tradition, I suppose,” he contemplates, holding the cup on the table.

Suns seems to have noticed the oddities, to his dismay. “We don’t have to celebrate here, you know. I thought it would be nice to take you up here, but you seem… uncomfortable.”

“Thanks for stating the obvious, Suns,” he bites back, harder than he really meant to.

Smoothly, always elegantly, in a single motion, Suns sets their cup on the table, taking Pebbles by the arm and pulling. He almost falls, but manages to keep step with his friend. They travel down the elevator, out onto the street, moving between the flowing crowd.

It takes until they are standing in front of the rolling door to Pebble’s workshop that he realizes what Suns is doing. “Hey- I thought you said no work today!”

Suns unlocks the door. They’ve known the code for many cycles now. “Where do you keep your paints? And an apron, preferably.”

Little Pebbles, standing in the doorway where he was left, stares. “You want to paint?”

“It’s your birthday, yes? You enjoy doing this. I want you to show me.”

It takes another moment before Pebbles snaps back into action, collecting two aprons and moving to hang his mask on the hook- until he remembered Suns was also there. Should he take off his mask-? It would be more difficult to paint with it on- would it be weird?

Maybe it would, except Suns had moved behind him, taking an apron in one hand and holding their own mask in the other, hanging it. Oh. He tries to stop thinking, pulling off his own mask and hanging it side by side. They are smiling at him- have they always been? Their eyes are so vibrant- focus. Paint. Cans are pulled from the cabinet, nozzles fitted and set in front of a blank wall in the workshop.

“It will take some getting used to,” he says, picking up a red can and shaking. “Keep your hand moving, or else the paint will pool and drip.” A piece of paper is handed to Suns, and they reach down to pick up another can. Purple.

They shake it as well, trying a few sprays across the paper. The first two drip, but the third is relatively even. Pebbles watches, and void below is it different having Suns in this workshop. They’re tall, he’s always known this, but even without the mask Suns towers over him. He nods at the test sprays, pointing to the wall.

“We start with a sketch. This will get covered up later, but it’s good reference.” He takes a deep breath, stepping up to the wall. Scholar symbol. That will do. It’s bubbly and big, and Suns moves to add some pearls in around the character.

“Is this good?”

He’s always painted alone, this is so different. It’s good. “Yes, very. I like the way it frames the subject.”

Five Pebbles gets into the rhythm of painting. Shake-shake-shake, spray. Step back, see the big picture. Next color. Repeat. Suns works on the pearls, and they almost glow on the wall, colors weaving together. They’re picking this up well.

“You’re quick,” Suns observes, adding gold to one of the pearls.

“I’ve done this for a long time,” he replies.

More painting. Outlines are added, highlights giving emphasis to the shapes. Suns steps back at this point, letting their friend finish the work.

He steps back, dropping the near-empty canister on the ground. “Well. We did it.”

“Thank you Pebbles.”

“Oh-“ He really had needed to get something on this wall, this had just been a good excuse to-

Suns puts their hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get this cleaned up.”

He nods. It was still so surreal to see Suns without their mask, but there they went, picking the cans up off his floor. He hastily followed, putting caps back on and throwing out the empty ones. It all cleaned up quickly, and they both returned to the cabinet to put away the cans and aprons.

“It’s a shame we must wear these bulky masks and not be able to properly appreciate all the artwork on the walls.” Suns states as they pick up their mask, inspecting it before putting it back on.

“Yeah.”

Suns glances to Pebbles. “Let’s get home. It’s been a long day. Oh- send Moon my regards! I’m still writing a response to her last message,” they laugh, standing and walking to the door.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure she knows.” He follows suit, closing the door behind the two and locking it.

Many cycles later, when he’s running for his life, he’s going to come in this workshop, looking for supplies. He’s going to see the mural, made with the one who set him up to fail. The burns on his hands, his face, all from the void fluid that Suns gave him. And he is going to swallow his despair, and run.

Run far away.

[theheartofthestar]

Prompt 20 - Florist AU

@wolfstarmicrofic April 20th - 837 words

Remus looks up when he hears the door bell chime. It's a slow Tuesday, so he's just been sitting behind the counter catching up on some reading. The four men carry themselves as if they are still school boys, pushing each other and talking above one another, but by their looks Remus can tell they must be around his own age.

One of the men is finally pushed forward, all long, silky black curls framing a handsome face. Sharp nose above a perfect bow of pale lips. Remus eyes trace the man's face up to his eyes, the most beautiful set of grey eyes, unnerving yet appealing. The man clears his throat and Remus lifts his eyebrows, hoping to mask the attraction he feels behind what he hopes comes off as justified annoyance at four grown men acting like boys in a tiny flower shop on a Tuesday afternoon.

"Hi, uhm, you're handsome" the man says, and Remus smirks even through he knows his face is coloring. The other three snort.

"Subtle, Sirius, very subtle" the man with face piercings laughs.

"I mean, have you got, uhm-" Sirius pauses, as if they had walked in without a clear plan on what exactly they wanted to buy from a flower shop. "-flowers?"

"Oh my god"

"Pads!"

"Zero rizz, I swear"

"Yeah, we've got flowers" Remus feels his heart doing acrobatics on his chest. "What type are you looking for?"

"Uhm, eh, I don't know, maybe something like that?" Sirius scrambles to find something around the shop that might look like something that's ready to be sold. He ends up pointing at the flower crowns Remus made this morning, now sitting on a shelf and waiting to be delivered tomorrow morning.

"Flower crowns." Remus says, to confirm. Never mind he feels he'll probably melt if he sees this gorgeous being in a flower crown of all things.

"Yes" Sirius looks awkward, but Remus catches the very clear way his smile also carries a certain flirt. And they say the love of your life will never knock on your door.

"Oh, those are commissioned, they aren't for sale. But how about-" Remus tries to think of a way to keep them in the shop a bit longer. Maybe he'll get lucky and manage to get a phone number. "-how about I teach you how to make them? You pay for the flowers, and I'll just show you how to wave them"

It's a silly idea, but one that Lily has been pestering him about ever since they went together to that sip-and-paint some weeks ago. The dark skinned man immediately perks up.

"Like a workshop?" He says excitedly, and the man who looks just like Sirius groans. Remus thinks maybe they are brothers. "I love workshops! Yes, absolutely! Where do we sit?"

And so starts an afternoon Remus didn't plan on having, stealing glances and sharing small smiles with this handsome angel that happened to walk into his shop. Remus learns their names, listens to their friendly bickering and tries to keep his blush and his breathing under control when Sirius' calf presses against his under the table.

When they are done, the four of them wear their flower crowns proudly. The flowers in James' crown have lost half their petals, rough hands as his are. Barty refused to remove the thorns from his rose's stems, and Remus wonders idly what's up with that. Regulus' crown is by far the prettiest, and blushes brightly when James says as much. But it is Sirius' crown that looks the loveliest, because the loveliest pair of hands wove it.

The group dawdles by the door for a bit before they go, and James very obviously gives Sirius a shove towards the counter behind which Remus is trying to keep his hands busy to avoid staring at the most beautiful being he's ever laid eyes upon. But Sirius says nothing, just smiles a bit awkwardly and so Remus says nothing, just blushes and crinkles his eyes. The friends clearly feel some help is needed, because James comes forward and slings an arm around Sirius' shoulders

"So how long do these last, Remus?" James says, vaguely pointing at his and Sirius' flower crowns. Remus has to clear his throat before answering.

"About four days, I would say-" whatever he was going to continue with is interrupted by James.

"Great! So you can expect Pads here to come by to pick up another one." James pats Sirius on his chest as he says so.

"I can?

"Prongs-"

"Same time next week? Yes? Awesome, he'll bring some coffee too. It's a date, tá!" And with that, James drags a mortified looking Sirius and his other two very amused friends out of the store. Before they slide out of sight, Sirius catches his eye and smiles.

Remus smiles looking at the flower crown in his hands. Next Tuesday can't come fast enough.

(you can read more of my work here)

[witchy-scribblings]

the way he cares

haganezuka hotaru x reader

synopsis ➳ somehow, the worst part of being involved in a mild car accident isn't the actual accident, but having to deal with your annoying mechanic.

warnings ➳ car accidents, cussing, can be read as either platonic or romantic, lowercase

wordcount ➳ 0.7k

[crossposted on ao3]

“care to explain what the actual fuck happened to you?”

you had been dreading this moment all morning. well, actually, you had been dreading it for way longer than that. from the moment you were released from the hospital and fully comprehended the damage that your car had sustained, you had known that hotaru, your trusty (and that was the only kind way you could put it) mechanic, was going to give you absolute hell.

you were so not looking forward to it that you seriously considered pretending you weren’t home when you saw his old but reliable towing pickup truck pulling up in your driveway. alas, you had been the one to call him to get your car (if it could be considered a car anymore) to his workshop, so he knew that you were home and you knew that he’d kick down the door if you didn’t come out yourself.

“some fucker hit my car from behind and i got whiplash.” at this point, you had explained what had happened so many times, to the doctors, to your car insurance advisor, to your family and friends, that you had exhausted any patience you would have once spared the infuriating man. hotaru was known for asking the right questions in all the wrong ways, it was just that today you weren’t feeling like putting up with his usual bullshit. “so? can you fix my car or do i need to find a new mechanic?”

at that, he looked downright offended. “of course i can, who the hell do you take me for?” he delivered a hard look to your poor car and its misshapen rear, clicking his tongue. “you’re lucky this is covered by insurance. all this fucking damage…”

“no shit, haganezuka. i have eyes,” you scoff, and he doesn’t answer. instead, he sets to work loading your car onto the tow dolly attacked to the back of his pickup. you watched silently, wanting nothing more than to go back home and rest because your neck was a constant pain in the arse and the relentless july heat was making your neck sweat and itch uncomfortably under the cervical collar.

“you should be more careful,” he speaks suddenly, roughly, bringing you back from your thoughts, and you would have caught the hint of care if you hadn’t been pissed off by the way he dared to express it.

“don’t give me that fucking shit, hotaru. as if it’s my fault that someone else wasn’t paying attention on the road-”

“didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed raggedly, running a hand along the back of his neck, trying to collect the stray hairs that escaped his long ponytail. he didn’t bother elaborating, you didn’t think he had it in him. but you understood, regardless.

“i know,” your voice comes out surprisingly soft, and you see his lips press into the tight line that you’ve long associated to him trying to conceal any visible emotion other than anger.

hotaru is hopping back onto his own vehicle sooner than you can realize and, if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was avoiding looking at you. looks like that was more sincerity than he could stand in one morning.

“the towing service isn’t covered by insurance, but you can manage the fee, it won’t sting like a bitch.” he’d do that, start rambling when you knew he was feeling embarrassed. “i’ll call you when it’s ready to pick up, or bring it back here myself, whatever, but know that it’s gonna take a shit-long time. not that you can drive like that, anyways.” he buckled up, checking his mirrors reflexively and still not bothering to look at you. the fucker.

“maybe i’ll just start calling you to drive me places,” you tease, and that does earn you a hurried, offended glare to which you would have shrugged if your neck wasn’t so messed up. “i mean, i have groceries to buy, for example, which i might also need help with taking inside and putting away.” 

“you’re such a brat,” he grumbles, and you grin despite your predicament. his lips curl into a small, sneering smile of his own. “i’ll charge you for that.”

“of course you will.”

[cuubism]

actor hob, and pretentious asshole film director dream

[ this got so long and so weird and specific i'm so sorry ]

so hob is an everyman actor. a good actor, charismatic, funny, fan favorite, but not the type that gets cast in highbrow art films. mostly he does like romcoms, mid-budget action movies, feel-good family films, etc etc. and he's totally cool with that, he's good at what he does, and people enjoy those films, anyway. he might be getting a bit bored though, a bit stagnant. might be thinking it's time for some reinvention. and there might be a certain director whose ridiculous and nonsensical but dreamy films he's particularly enamored with...

dream makes REALLY pretentious art films. the types that get studied in graduate level film classes and have fifty different academic papers with fifty different theses trying to puzzle them out. dream is a master of themes and images and subtle construction. he is also a COMPLETE asshole and impossible to work with, an auteur in the most stereotypical way possible, he writes and directs, he micromanages all his projects, he asserts his vision and god help anyone who goes against it. nobody can handle him, nobody can STAND him, and the only reason he still gets funding for these projects is because they win awards, so many awards, and the studios want to ride on the coattails of those awards. but it's getting to the point where even his most ride-or-die producers are ready to give up.

right off the back of dream's most recent bafta, a rather naive Big Exec approaches him to direct the next installment of his Big Superhero Franchise. dream is immediately like fuck off with that bullshit but the exec pleads with him that the franchise is flagging and they really need something new to spice it up. plus the pay will be enough for dream to finance like 10 of his own ridiculous art films without having to rely on producers for money. and dream really is about to get cut off for being a complete insufferable asshole so he takes the gig. it kind of feels like prison though.

anyway, he gets to work trying to make this shitty boring film at least marginally less shitty and boring. he doesn't have a lot of leeway -- a lot of the story is locked in, half the cast is set from prior installments etc. dream immediately regrets taking this job, he'd rather die in actual prison than work on this mindnumbing piece of trash. it feels like it's taking an eternity and who could possibly stand an eternity of this???

well. enter hob, whose agent managed to snag him a 2nd-lead sort of role in this thing. it's not QUITE the reinvention he was going for but the pay and exposure are really good -- and even if they weren't, the moment hob saw that dream was attached he was immediately on board.

cue dream tearing his fucking hair out and basically being a complete menace and diva on set -- no that wasn't good, yes we have to do a 57th take, oh my god this dialogue is horrible give me that shitty script i'm writing my own thing, what do you mean the plot is linear???, wait there are how many cgi aliens????? i'm going to kill myself -- and Hob, pretty much Just Happy To Be There as always, takes one look at this beautiful dramatic emo asshole and is like oh. yes. i don't know what i'm saying yes to, but i'm saying yes. just immediately enamored with this bitch against all logic, he's like i've seen all your films i know how your mind works you brilliant nihilistic mess of a person. i'm on board. let's go.

first scene that hob's in dream is once again ranting about the atrocious script, which he did not write and is hardly allowed to change -- or, every change he makes is too weird and the studio keeps nixing it. everyone keeps sighing and being like oh my god can we please just shoot i wanna go home, meanwhile hob's like alright then. let's workshop it. and dream's just like. what. you aren't just gonna tell me to shut up? and hob's like no, youre right, this script is trash, but i know you're just going to write something really weird and psychedelic that they won't let you shoot. and dream's like you dare to speak to me that way??? and hob just puts his hands on his hips and is like listen, i actually know more about this sort of general audience family film thing than you do, mister arthouse, so are you going to work with me or not? and dream's just like what... is happening... because usually people who try to 'handle' him either just cave to his every demand like wimps, or just fight him on everything to 'prove' that they're in control, and hob is just kind of... not doing either of those? anyway dream doesn't know what to do with him.

so they workshop it. turns out hob actually DOES know how these sort of general audience all-follow-the-same-three-act-structure films work and how to improve things within those confines, and also he understands what like, normal people like, you know, casual feel good movies, not everything has to be a mindbender, jesus. so they bounce ideas off each other for like 3 hours until they finally get something that's okay enough that dream no longer wants to fling himself into the sun. meanwhile everyone on set is staring at them like 👀. then dream is like come back to my trailer we are rewriting the other 116 pages of this script right NOW. what else is hob supposed to do but follow.

then hob becomes the designated Dream Handler on set. dream starts using him as his barometer for what 'normal people' would like because he does not understand that at all. ("hob, will 'people' accept this?" "well considering youre spinning the camera around on a string i'm gonna go out on a limb and say no"). dream becomes kind of obsessed with him because his life is so like, normal, and he's okay with it?? he doesn't find existence to be an insufferable prison from which there is no escape?? and hob is like aw i know you're such a tortured artistic soul *pats him on the head*. plus, hob is actually a good actor, and he's able to put a lot of heart into even this mediocre big budget film, and kind of forces dream to confront the idea that there's more than one good type of story. that different stories serve different purposes and a straightforward happy story is okay, actually.

(and that the problem is the corporatization of the storytelling, not the story itself)

anyway the movie ends up being pretty good, dream still kind of hates it because he wasn't given full artistic license but he has to grudgingly admit that it has at least some merit. after the premiere hob is like (cheekily) so you gonna direct the sequel? and dream is like i did not write that to have a sequel. and hob's like it has a cliffhanger? and dream's like so???? and hob's like well theyre definitely gonna make a sequel. and dream's like i hate this planet. also no i'm not going to make the sequel. i'm going to fuck off to the woods and make a movie about teeth. do you want to star in it? and hob's like you're so fucking weird i'm obsessed with you i'm going to kiss you now.

so yeah, that.

[midnightshard06]

STH Rarepair Week Day 3: Hurt / Comfort

You can check it out on ao3 here if you prefer.

Summary: Sonic stumbles across a heavily damaged Metal Sonic and does the only thing he can think to do, take him back to Tails to see if his brother can fix him. It ends up being a rough day for everyone involved, especially Sonic.

Pairing: Sonic/Metal Sonic

Warnings: Mild violence, nothing graphic

Word Count: ~3000 words

AN: Still feeling these two's dynamic out so apologies if anything seems weird lol.

"You can fix him… right?" Sonic glanced nervously at Tails.��

His brother twitched his tails nervously. "I'll do my best… Metal's in really rough shape."

Sonic couldn't help but pace as Tails got to work on Metal Sonic. What had even happened? Sonic had just found his robotic doppelganger abandoned and in more pieces than he cared to count. It had hit him hard, hard enough to almost panic at the sight of it. The only thing that held him together was his drive to collect the pieces so the robot could be fixed. 

That had been a whole process in itself. Between having to find every little piece and periodically needing to stop and shake loose unwanted images of an actual mangled corpse from his mind. It was a constant battle to remind himself that for how alive Metal acted he was still a robot. A robot who could actually come back from something like this. Hopefully.

At some point Tails shooed him outside, but honestly he barely noticed. His mind just continued to go over questions he didn’t have answers too. Normally he’d go on a run to clear his head but it felt like if he left something awful would happen.  No. He needed to stay here until Tails was done. He needed to see that Metal was going to be ok with his own eyes.

He glanced back at the closed door to Tails’s workshop in concern. Why hadn’t Eggman come to try and collect Metal? Why leave him out there… in that condition? Sonic shuddered and quickly banished the memory of how Metal had looked from his mind. Remembering that right now wasn’t going to help him. Maybe after he knew Metal was going to be ok he’d go find Eggman, see if he couldn’t figure out what had happened. Yeah. That felt like a decent course of action.

Hours passed, or at least it felt like it. Everything felt agonizingly slow as Sonic paced. He idly noted he’d worn a shallow groove into the ground, something he’d need to fix later. At some point during the agonizing wait, Amy showed up. Whatever she was saying didn’t register in his mind but she gently guided him down to the ground to sit. Not like he had the energy to resist right now anyway.

Having someone else there was probably good. At least he shouldn’t make the groove any worse than it already was now. As they sat there she talked. About what, he didn’t know. Her words washed over him as he was unable to make them out properly. It didn’t matter though, he was pretty sure they both knew that. Whatever she was talking about didn’t matter. What did matter was that she was there at all, helping ground him. He was glad he had such good friends.

By the time Tails came out to get him the sun was setting. Amy thankfully stayed by his side as the trio went inside. He felt a spark of hope pierce the haze that had settled over his mind as he saw Metal completely reassembled on one of Tails’ work tables. Wires coming from the back of his head were still connected to the Miles Electric, but besides that he looked good as new. “Is he..?” Sonic looked over at his brother.

Tails nervously wrung his hands. “I was able to put him back together fine. There were a lot of pieces but as far as I could tell you managed to get them all. Though due to the heavy damage he sustained I’m… not sure if any of his core programs were damaged. I tried to run a diagnostic but I couldn’t for some reason. It just… wasn’t working.”

“And that’s not a great sign I assume?” Amy asked, frowning.

“Unfortunately.” Tails nodded, looking away from Sonic. “It might not mean much but… I’m just worried.”

Sonic took a deep breath and did his best to push aside his own worry for now. “Boot him up.”

“Are you sure?” Tails looked up at him, worried.

“We won’t know what’s going on until he’s up and running right?” Sonic did his best to give his brother a reassuring smile, though he wasn’t sure if it was effective for either of them. “No use in dragging it out.”

“As long as you’re ok with it.” Amy put a hand on his shoulder. Sonic took a far shakier breath and nodded.

Tails nodded back and went over to where he’d left the Miles Electric on a table. “Turning him back online in three, two, one…”

Sonic held his breath as Metal’s red optics flared to life. The robot looked around sort of peacefully for a bit after sitting up. Although he looked at all three of them his gaze lingered the longest on Sonic. The eye contact was a little unnerving but he didn’t have much time to think about it before Metal was launching himself at Sonic. For an incredibly brief moment he thought that might have been a positive thing but that was quickly shattered as Metal kept going and caused the two to crash through a wall.

Sonic managed to separate from Metal once they were outside. He winced at the hole they made as he shook off debris that tried to stick to him. That would have to be fixed later. Right now he had a rogue robot to take down, even if it hurt to do so right after Tails had fixed him. “C’mon Metal. We don’t have to do this right now!” Sonic tried, but he was met with nothing but Metal charging at him again. 

He dropped into a spin dash to dodge out of the way, and as much as he didn’t want to he turned to crash into Metal’s back. He pulled out of the spin dash and kicked off the robot’s back, sending him crashing into the ground. The sound of metal scraping against the hard ground had Sonic pinning his ears to his head. Could he really do this right now? As Metal got up engine whirring, it was clear he wasn’t going to have a choice.

Before Metal could charge at him again Tails and Amy were there. “I think he might have gotten reset.” Tails sounded a mix between nervous and upset. “He might have just reverted to his base programming.”

That one stung. If Metal really had gone back to just his base programming that meant that all the time Sonic had spent slowly broadening his counterpart’s horizons was wasted, gone just like that. That also meant he wouldn’t remember the quiet times when the two had really gotten to know each other; the times the two talked about their respective siblings and whatever they’d gotten up to. The races which were only for the pure enjoyment of testing each other. Pushing each other. Metal and everything he had slowly been becoming, gone. 

Sonic clenched his fists and he could feel tears start to gather in his eyes. He didn’t let them fall though, he couldn’t. Regardless of his own feelings, Metal needed to be stopped before he hurt one of them. If either of his friends tried to stop him as he rushed forward he didn’t hear them. It was hard to hear much over his own racing thoughts. 

He threw himself into the fight with Metal not caring if he got hurt. As long as this could be over quicker it didn’t matter. He’d walk it off anyway. Plus the pain was a wonderful distraction from the hollow feeling that had settled in his chest. With each clash Sonic dared to feel the tiniest bit of hope that Metal would come to his senses, only to have it dashed each time. Metal was seemingly back to the same robot he’d met on Little Planet all that time ago. At some point he stopped hoping to see something different.

Eventually while catching his breath he found himself restrained from behind. He struggled of course but stopped as soon as he recognized it was Amy who was holding him back. His legs felt like they couldn’t support his weight any more once he saw Tails jump onto Metal and shut him down. With no more immediate distraction he let himself fall limp, confident that Amy could handle his weight. His eyes trailed to the ground and he suddenly felt oh so tired.

Amy and Tails were possibly talking about something but he couldn’t find it in himself to care to listen. Honestly he did his best to just let his mind go blank. That was much more preferable to confronting the reality of the situation, and just how much it hurt. At some point Amy was trying to lead him back to Tails’ workshop, he did at least cooperate. It would be pretty rude of him to force her to drag him around, no matter how terrible he felt.

Sonic was led into the living area Tails had attached to his lab. Amy got him to sit down on a couch, before walking off for a moment and returning with a blanket to wrap around his shoulders. He pulled the blanket tightly around himself and stared at the floor. It was hard not to think about what was happening but focusing on the pain from his still untreated injuries helped. A cushion next to him dipped. It was probably Amy sitting next to him.

“How are you holding up?” Amy asked, voice tentative. Sonic just folded his ears against his head. “Right, bad question. Sorry.” She took a breath. "We'll figure this out. For now will you let me take a look at your injuries?" Sonic nodded, not trusting his voice right now. Even though he didn't want to, he released his tight grip on the blanket. 

He finally lifted his gaze from the floor to watch Amy start to treat his injuries. They were worse than he typically got fighting Metal. That didn't make him feel any better. The whole time he couldn't bring himself to look at Amy, but he was silently grateful. He really did have good friends.

"Can I see him?" Sonic barely heard himself.

"... are you sure that's what you want?" Amy made what she thought very clear in her tone. It was a bad idea.

While he didn't really think it would help, he felt like it would be worse to sit here. "Yeah." Sonic nodded.

Amy hesitated before gently guiding him towards Tails’ workshop. Finally he looked up all the way, if only just to be able to see where he was going. His brother looked up from the Miles Electric as the two of them entered the workshop. He frowned, but didn’t say anything. It was clear the fox knew why they were there.

Sonic silently watched Tails work for… well he wasn’t sure how long. Honestly he didn’t even know what his brother was doing, but it felt like all he could do was watch. Amy made sure to periodically come in and make sure the two of them were taking care of themselves, though she paid extra attention to Sonic. Probably because he hadn’t made any moves to even attempt taking care of himself since finding a place to sit.

At some point Amy pulled Tails away from his work to send him to bed. It was probably well into the night at that point. When she tried to do the same for Sonic he waved her off. While she tried to be persistent she crumbled when Sonic finally turned to look at her. Based on her reaction he really didn’t want to know how he looked right now. She did at least bring out some pillows and extra blankets for him, so he had the option to make himself a bit more comfortable. Not that he remembered doing it but he did try to arrange them so things were a bit better.

For a while he just stared at the table Metal was once again laid out on. There were a few new dents and scratches but at least he was intact. Well physically anyway. Sonic pulled the blanket around his shoulders tighter, ignoring how it aggravated some of his injuries. “Well…” Sonic said quietly into the now dark workshop. Amy had shut off the lights when she’d left, probably trying to encourage Sonic to sleep. “I guess we’ll have to start over again huh? Cause I know I can’t resist trying. You mean too much.” He sighed and watched Metal’s unmoving body for a while. There wasn’t much point in saying anything else when no one would hear it.

His eyelids started to grow heavy, and he mentally prepared himself for a night of little to no sleep. He’d barely let his eyes slip closed when he heard a noise. It was hard, but he managed to crack his eyes back open only to see Metal now sitting up. The robot was experimentally opening and closing his hands. Sonic tensed, ready for another potential fight. Metal turned to him and the gaze felt much less unsettling than it did earlier. ‘Sonic?’ Metal signed, tilting his head.

Sonic sucked in a sharp breath. Well he was certainly awake now. “Mets? Are you… you?” He was on his feet, blanket falling from his shoulders.

‘I am back to typical running capacity after critical systems failure. The automatic reboot and restoration of my system was a success.’ Metal stood up and moved towards Sonic.

“So… that means you’re ok then.” Sonic felt hope bloom in his chest as he rushed to his feet.

‘I am fine now yes.’ Metal gave him a once over. ‘The same cannot be said for you. Your face is leaking.

Oh. He was crying huh? At least now it was for a good reason. With the ease of practice though he managed to cut off his tears. “Nah. I’m good now Mets. I’m… good now.”’

Metal watched him for a moment. ‘You were the one to find me.’ It didn’t look like a question, but Sonic nodded anyway. He wanted to ask what happened but he also didn’t want to force Metal to think about it so soon. ‘I apologize.’ He looked down briefly, fists clenching. ‘I should have been stronger I-’

Sonic closed the gap between them and wrapped Metal in a hug, effectively cutting him off. Of course Metal wasn’t the nicest to hug, and the rigidness of his body was digging into Sonic uncomfortably in several places, but right now he needed it. Apparently both of them did. After a moment Metal carefully returned the hug. It was familiar enough, even if the two didn’t do it often. “Doesn’t matter.” Sonic was quiet, but he knew Metal would have no problem hearing him. “You’re ok now, that’s what matters.”

Metal tapped his back and pulled away. ‘I suppose.’ His robotic counterpart seemed to be taking in Sonic’s injuries now. ‘What happened?’ He tilted his head before looking Sonic in the eyes.

“We… booted you up before you were done doing your own stuff.” Sonic attempted to shrug casually. It felt stiff. “We fought a bit cause you weren’t really there. Not a big deal.”

Sonic got the impression that Metal would be frowning if he could. ‘We fight all the time. You do not typically receive injuries like this.’

“I… might have been a bit reckless because I was upset.” Sonic chuckled nervously. “I’m fine though, honest.”

Metal didn’t seem like he was convinced. ‘Fine.’ He conceded. Sonic grinned before yawning. The brief shot of adrenaline from Metal waking up was starting to wear off already. ‘You need rest.’ Metal glanced down at the mess of blankets and pillows Sonic had set up for himself. ‘This is not a proper place to do it.’

“Eh, I’ve slept in worse.” Sonic shrugged. 

Metal shot him his best attempt at an unamused look before noticing the hole in the wall. Without any warning Metal scooped Sonic up and walked towards the hole and outside. Sonic was honestly so surprised he just let it happen. He barely even noticed Metal had snagged a blanket as well. They didn’t go far, just far enough to have grass under them. Once they stopped Metal carefully put Sonic down and spread the blanket on the ground. ‘You often say being outside calms you down. I thought this would be better than remaining inside.’

Sonic grinned before sprawling out on the blanket. It took Metal a moment, and Sonic patting the blanket in invitation, but he did join Sonic on the blanket. Well Metal was right about this one, he felt a lot calmer being outside having a wonderful view of the stars. Most calming though was Metal’s silent presence next to him. It almost felt silly how he felt earlier, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if Metal would feel similarly if Sonic somehow forgot him.

Much to Sonic’s surprise, Metal reached for his hand. It wasn’t often Metal initiated anything physical. Since the robot got less out of physical affection than Sonic did, it was often up to him to initiate. After the day he’d had though it was very welcome.”I really am glad you’re ok Metal.” Sonic kept his gaze trained at the sky. Metal squeezed his hand since he couldn’t really communicate any other way right now. It was plenty for Sonic though.

It felt good to finally let the tension leave his body, but at the same time now that he didn’t have a distraction anymore he really could feel his injuries. Though thankfully he wouldn’t have to focus on that for long as Metal unthreaded their hands and started to gently work through Sonic’s quills. If it wasn’t clear before it certainly was now that Metal knew he’d been upset. The robot only did this to help calm Sonic down, even if Sonic assured him he didn’t mind Metal doing it whenever. He’d always get a retort along the lines of ‘if I do it too often you’ll become desensitized to it and it will become less effective’. He didn’t believe that in the slightest but he wasn’t about to fight Metal on it for now.

Right now he enjoyed the even strokes of clawed hands through messy quills. There under the stars, with his other half returned to him he finally allowed himself to sleep.

[ouroboros-hideout]

WIP WHENEVER

@chevvy-yates tagged me for this. Thank you a lot 💚

This will be a huge wall of text aswell, since I am not really of the „visual“ side of creating atm.

Writing // Worldbuilding

I'm still writing the next two chapters for my fanfiction, but would rather briefly introduce my other OCs here (yes, Aon isn´t the only one by now). Maybe I can create all of them ingame at some point, depending on how stupid I´ll act with modding etc. when I start. Since things can change quickly in the story while I'm writing, I wouldn't say that everything is 100% set in stone, a lot of it isn't finished yet. But it's a good base. Most of them appear in my „Like Napalm“ fic. Some of them will be in my main GARMR fic aswell. So prepare for half backed character data entries and some rambling.

Gan

Gan Tomobataar, or Iron as he is usually called, is a mysterious man. Many stories surround the Mongolian giant and it always depends on who asks him whether he affirms or denies these tales. It is therefore uncertain which of them are true or fictional and he really enjoys keeping his past in the dark. He is said to have served in an elite military unit. The metal teeth that earned him his iconic nickname are said to have been lost in numerous boxing matches as he tried to turn pro to make a better life for himself and his family, and he is allegedly a descendant of Ginghis Khan (which is probably one of his favorite rumors). One can assume that his closest confidants have more clarity, but none of them would dare say a word about it. Undeniably true is that he has two brothers, of whom he is the second-born. Together with them, he leads one of the largest nomadic clans in eastern Europe and Asia. The Tomobataar nomads are divided into three large families, each led by one of the three brothers. Iron's family stays mainly in Mongolia and Russia, but he would also travel to more distant parts of the Soviet Union for profitable contracts. He doesn't have many vices, but one of them is definitely greed.

By sheer luck, at least that's what he claimed, he picked up Aon on the street when she was trying to flee Moscow on her own. He promised to protect her from the Secret Police and other bounty hunters if she proved to be a useful member of his clan. However, his methods for testing her worth would put the young woman to the test.

Yakov

Yakov always had problems finding his place in the world. He grew up in St. Petersburg, studying or an education other than working in his father's car repair shop were never an option financially, but the young man always yearned for something greater than being stuck in the alleys and streets of his childhood. He decided to join the military when he was old enough, but was discharged immediately after basic training for insubordination and general unsuitability. What remained for him was to work in his father's garage until he died after a long illness. Yakov tried to keep the store running on his own for a while, but he found it difficult to do good business without proper management and eventually had to sell the store. This was followed by a relatively dark period. He saw himself as a failure, was unable to find a new job and drank away the money he had received for the workshop in the bars in his neighborhood. One evening, a man came into his local pub. His car had broken down outside, he wouldn't get any further that night and kept him company for a few hours. The next day, Yakov repaired his car for the man called Gan and left the town with him to live with the Tomobataar nomads.

Gregori

Gregori's mother, a singer from New York, came to the Russian capital for a gig and met a military officer there. The two got together and the result was little Greg. Shortly afterwards, however, the couple fell apart and she took her son back to America, where he spent most of his childhood and youth being raised by babysitters and nannies, while the singer preferred to spend her time on tour or in the recording studio. Gregori at least inherited much of her creativity, starting to make music himself at an early age and drawing a lot. Just what small children do when they need to keep themselves busy.

When he was 16 years old, his mother died of an overdose. As she never bothered to write down a testament or anything similar, her entire fortune goes to her greedy manager, who leaves Gregori penniless.

The boy, who has spent his whole life sheltered without much contact with the outside world, is left with nothing and doesn't know exactly what to do. So he scrapes together the last of his money and buys a ticket to Moscow, where he tries to find his father, but in vain. He quickly goes off the rails, barely speaks a word of Russian, is recruited by a gang and gets exploited. An arms deal with a group of nomads goes wrong, a shootout ensues and Gegori is the only one left of the gang because he hides instead of fighting. Yakov, who was on the other side of the deal, takes pity on him and eventually takes him to his new family where he tries to find his place within the group.

Anna

Anna grew up with the Tomobataar nomads from an early age. Her parents were killed in a botched mission when she was just four years old. Iron, who in a way blamed himself for this, took on a guardianship for her and looked after the little girl like the apple of his eye. As the years passed and Anna grew older, the relationship between her and her foster father changed. He became increasingly demanding, punished misbehavior and put the still young girl under pressure. Aon, who had already earned her place in the clan by this time, could not tolerate this behavior as she herself had grown up under similar circumstances. No one else in the clan interfered with Iron's "parenting methods", which is why she ended up doing it. Anna and Aon then became inseparable and she naturally followed her later when they left the clan along with many others.

Anatoly

Anatoly, or Tolik as Aon calls him, belongs to the Russian working class in Moscow and cannot claim to own much. As a boy, he dreamed of studying mechanical engineering in order to open his own workshop or business. A dream that his father would never have been able to afford in this life. So after school, Tolik started working at his father's scrap yard on the outskirts of Moscow, not an easy job. He regularly drives into the city to pick up old components and scrap metal from SovOil and other big corporations, where he meets Alyona one day. The two strike up a conversation, exchange banter and hit it off straight away, which over time develops into a teenage love story. Aon spends a lot of time with him at the scrapyard, where she can test and improve her skills on old machines and has a place to hide from her hated stepfather. He, in return, benefits from the knowledge she brings with her from university, and his dream of building his own big thing soon becomes her dream too. Together they consider leaving the city at some point and make plans for the future

unnamed_chromed_up_terrifying_SovOil_Secret_Police_agent

Yea well, I don't know yet how to call him. After Aon has fled Moscow, the officers of the normal police force give up the search for her, as it theoretically no longer falls within their area of responsibility. However, since Kristof claims that Aon stole the data he wanted to sell to Petrochem, SovOil is naturally very interested in finding her and the data chip. So they send a Secret Police agent after her, who, together with a small unit, tries to track her down. He actually already had a kind of "Easter Egg" appearance in my other AU. He would have been the agent sitting next to Kurt if he hadn't switched the cards on the table. Funny how differently things can go. Anyway, he doesn't really have much of a backstory other than he used to work for the KGB and is a bloodthirsty hound dog who chases Aon halfway across the country (spoiler: and finds her). If I were to compare him to another character from movies etc, he would probably have the closest vibe to Hans Landa from Inglourious Basterds. The character was very well written, even though I would probably make my namesless_pig a bit younger than him. But since he'll be pumped full of cyberware anyway, it probably doesn't matter much in the end. It's just supposed to be a fucking horrible character and Aon's nightmare.

Robert Walker

Robert is one of the key-characters in my main fanfiction. I haven't thought about him in depth yet, but the general concept is there. He's a British journalist and photographer who wanted to go high by exposing wrongdoings in society. For him, there is nothing more exciting than achieving "fame and notoriety" as a whistleblower. He's not necessarily stupid or doesn't know what he's doing, he's just unlucky. He gets into trouble with the wrong people and upsets the even worse ones, which is why he has to flee the UK and ends up in NC. There he tries to start over and stay out of trouble. However, he soon develops an "unhealthy" obsession with Kurt Hansen. He is incredibly fascinated by him and spends every free minute in Dogtown so that he can perhaps take a photo (or two, or ten) of his idol. At some point, he goes so far as to seek direct contact and wants to interview him. Kurt is flattered at first, but has little desire to reveal information about himself in some strange blog or gossip magazine. But that didn't stop Robert from continuing to stalk him and even trying to become a member of Barghest. At some point, Hansen got too pissed off and gave him the choice of leaving Dogtown or catching a bullet. Robbie chose the second option. After all, he hadn't forbid him to camp outside the gates of Dogtown, had he?

Technically I could tell something about Aon´s mom and her stepfather too, but I don´t have that much yet. So will keep em for the next WIP together with the other OCs for my main fic. There will be three more. A general, a corpo guy and the last is still up for discussion with my brain. Considering somekind of warlord or a netrunner.

Art

I tried to do something different than a full rendered piece of artwork. I am not yet confinced that I like it. I like, that it was finished really fast lmao but...I dunno.

Aon and Tolik - 2055

But happy that Aon is actually recognizable in the end. During the process she looked so much like So Mi at a point that my brain went: WHO ARE YOU GIRL. But I like the long hair. Will give it back to her in her 2078+ appearance. Not exactly like this, but longer than her normal style.

Not quite sure about Anatoly tho. I mean, he looks like this in my head, but I will reconsidere if he will get some cyberarms. He is poor like a mouse, so probably can´t afford expensive tech like this, but he feels kind of „empty“ without anything.

Congrats and huge thanks if you read this far. Brainrot stronk!

Tagging some ppl aswell. Everyone else is invited too to show off some awesome stuff ofc, no pressure as always!

@blackrevell @olath124 @cyberholic77 @cybervesna @pinkyjulien @theviridianbunny @therealnightcity @wanderingaldecaldo @miss--river @barghestapologist @kdval @streetkid-named-desire @aggravateddurian @androgymess

[riddlesrhymesandfear]

Dork Squad fall for that one reporter who makes photos of them for the newspaper/online news.

Summary: Mad Hatter, Riddler, and Scarecrow falling for a reporter.. (2nd person/ gender neutral)

A/n: I am slowly working on requests again, I have some that are almost done and should be out in the next week :) (also I wasn't sure if you meant 'takes' or not, so I just went that route,,)

||> Mad Hatter

Oh, Jervis wasn't sure who was taking such photos of him with crisp shots and lighting at first, but he does not waste another second finding out! It helps that your name was credited below his recent photo in the newspaper he came across.

He becomes much more careful and observant of what goes on around him, keeping an eye out for anything out of the regular in hopes he may find the reporter that's been taking his photos. And when he does, he doesn't let the opportunity pass.

At first it's curiosity, but it's not long before he grows interested in learning about you. Even outside the fact you take photos of him, the way you do so has him waiting for the next new edition or article to come out to see if there's a new photo of him (or anything really, but himself especially) you've taken.

The lighting, the care in the lack of blure or style, just the entirety of how you take your photos—it's caught him, line and sinker. And it's not long before you manage to snag his heart the same way.

||> Riddler

Finally, someone finally understands and appreciates his person to capture him in polaroid form! And not in an amateurish sense—professionally, for all of Gotham to recognize him! Just who is the individual he has to commemorate (or "volunteer" for his next death trap)?

He's quite enamored with the attention and detail to your photos of him, although depending on what the subject matter and setting of the photo, was, he may have a different reaction. If it's during a time he's out and 'in action,' he's far more likely to seek you out for some words of your talent and appreciation for models and matters of his own essence.

However, if it's during a less appealing moment (facing a nother loss against the Batman), or in a place of private (like his workshop or home), he may be inclined to seek you out for a few selective words and threats...

Regardless, congrats—you've gained Edward's attention, and there's little to nothing that'll pull it away, save for the Dark Knight. Whether you've obtained his liking or his irritation, he'll be on the lookout for any new photography you may have out on the next newspaper or online article.

||> Scarecrow

He's.. put off, to say the least. At first, anyway. Mostly by the fact that your photos have enough speciality to them to give out details of himself that most other photographers would end up blurring. And it frustates him.

The Scarecrow is meant to be a beacon of fear, of terror—people should think twice before walking across his path—but you? You take photos of him in a way that he's certain you've been up close to take them.

He will admit that they catch his likeness, however—most reporters' photos of him are humilitaing, such as being taken back to Arkham or losing to the Bat; or are blurry to the point only the shape of the photo's subject is determinable. But yours, as much as it frustrates him, are taken neatly and without flaw. Many of them even capture his formidable stature—truly give due credit to the alias he dons.

Jonathan has many ways of finding what he wants, and you've caught his attention. Your photos make him wonder what you fear—what limits you have that'll scare you off, or keep you coming back. And he's determined to figure out each and every one of them.

[finn-writes-stuff]

hi :) i didn’t see anywhere that requests were closed, but if they are feel all free to ignore this!!

can i request something’s for Resident Evil 8? maybe reader is a shape shifter, but their main shift is a cat? (preferably a smaller one so they can sneak around)

and at one point the reader sits at one of the lords meetings just to eavesdrop, no particular reason. basically they’re just a free roaming cat and go where they’d like, as long as they’re not caught.

please and thanks love <3

This is such a polite and pleasant request, thank you &lt;3

Platonic! RE8 x Reader

Fandom: Resident Evil 8

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: N/A

Gender-Neutral Reader

Masterlist Commission Info

While the village is not exactly filled with cats, you're innocuous that no one really looks twice at you. It suits you perfectly, allowing you to go wherever you please.

When you do run into the Lords in your cat form, you get some varied reactions.

Moreau, when he spots you, will inevitably start to coo at you, doing his best to coax you closer. He wants to pet you, and if you let him, he'll shower you in treats in praise about what a lovely kitty you are. He's not nimble enough to catch you if you don't want him to though.

Donna is a little less persistent. When you decide to adventure through her manor and catch her eye, she'll often just watch you for a long moment. She's too worried about scaring you off to reach out. On days when she's a little less lost in her head, she'll set out food or milk for you.

House Beneviento is not a place of peace for you though. Angie will run at you to try and pet you and tug at your tail. With how quick she is, she's harder to dodge, as well.

The castle is perhaps even more dangerous perhaps.

Alcina tends to do little past noticing you. She's a busy woman who doesn't have time to be chasing after strays. Although if you find your way into her room or office, she'll speak to you, venting about business problems.

The girls are terrors though. They absolutely love you and will do their best to catch you. If they do, inevitably they'll try to keep you as a pet.

Bela seems the nicest at first, coaxing you to her with treats and soft words. But she also owns cages and collars, trapping you in her room if you let her too close.

Cassandra never tries to lure you close, she enjoys chasing you too much. Your cat form is small enough that you can usually evade her, but the thrill of the hunt always seems to make her faster.

Daniela tries to sneak up on you. If you let your guard down in the castle, she'll jump out at you, trying to bundle you off to her room without her sisters seeing. She has also dubbed you Mittens, regardless of how you respond to this.

The castle is perhaps better than Heisenberg's factory though. Between the Lycans that surround it and the soldats within, you'll find yourself threatened at every turn.

Heisenberg himself rarely pays much attention to you around town, but after you managed to get into his workshop, you caught his attention. He was impressed with how clever you must have been to get there.

He'll let you go as you please, but when you are there, you can expect something to eat, a hand scratching under your chin, and an explanation on his new experiments.

Finding your way into a lords' meeting was an adventure. There were regularly Lycans everywhere, keeping guard. But you've been evading them for as long as you've lived here.

You found a nice vantage point where you could lay down and listen. For a few meetings, you simply rested there, without being noticed.

At least you thought so. Once, after the lords left, Mother Miranda looked up at you, directly catching your eye.

You decided to avoid the next meeting.

[ice-cap-k]

Silent Squeak

Cross-posted to AO3 here: Silent Squeak

_______________________________________________________

“Do you want the veggie rolls or the dumplings?”

“Dumplings, please. Whatever recipe you use tastes amazing.”

“Thanks. Just give me a moment to plate it.”

The smell of warm dumplings made Owen’s mouth water. He was starving and knew that the meal about to be served would be worth every second of the wait. Everyone knew Scott was the best cook in the attic. Between the farm fresh veggies he had managed to grow in his makeshift indoor garden to the hours spent perfecting his craft over a hot pot, the field rat had refined his talent to a peak. And that worked out perfectly since few other rats were so interested in the culinary craft.

Owen could manage a few of the simpler things. His own veggie rolls and grilled steak turned out edible, at least. Maybe a little chewy, but that just added to the experience. They were rats. Chewing through stuff was in their nature.

“Here you are.” A plate clatters onto the tabletop in front of Owen. The smell of the broth hits his sensitive nose, and the spoon is in his hand in an instant. The first bite almost burns his tongue, but he doesn’t care. The warm food tastes like the most amazing thing he’s had for a while.

“You know,” Scott says with a smirk as he slides into the booth on the opposite side of the table. “You could always try to make something with the food you steal from the pantry instead of eating it plain.”

Owen pulls the spoon out of his mouth and uses it to point at the farm rat. “That’s what I have you for,” he says around a mouthful of dumpling. “Why would I cook when I could just ask you to make something for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “And here I thought you visit so often because you enjoy my charming personality.”

“It can be for that too. You’re a really good friend, Scott. Who said it can’t be both?”

“Oh. Well, I really appreciate the visits.” A little smile appeared between Scott’s whiskers. His eyes dropped to his own bowl of dumplings and the spoon in his hand. “I don’t mind cooking, though. If it wasn’t so cold outside, I could have brought the food to set up a picnic on your balcony.”

“You wouldn’t have had to bring food,” Owen said, shoveling another spoonful into his mouth. 

Scott’s eyebrows shot up. “How else would I make something for us to eat?”

Owen had to think about that for a moment. “Well, we could try cooking at my place.”

“But you don’t even have a kitchen in your clock tower,” Scott said incredulously, gesturing to their surroundings with a free hand. 

Scott’s home was admittedly one of the most complete in the attic. Many rats had plenty of rooms and accommodations. Some had even built up storefronts and businesses outside of their personal nests. Owen’s clock, though, was hollowed out with a mindset more focused on convenience and his own personal interests. There was a small mudroom at the base of the clock, and if you climbed the gears he could reach his tinkering workshop and bedroom behind the clock face. A simple hallway led to an elaborate balcony, but that had admittedly been built by Scott. And that was it. There wasn’t much else that could fit inside.

The grandfather clock didn’t have things like kitchens, cozy living room seating spaces, or teal and orange booths set in the wall where he could eat with company. 

Although Martyn’s Bar did have most of that. He supposed that was always an option.

“Fair enough. By the way, how are you feeling?”

Scott’s ears twitched to match the confusion that crossed his face. One ear pressed flat against the back of his head, the other swiveled forward to catch Owen’s words. “What do you mean,” he said, blinking blankly.

“That janitor really got you the other day. We were all scared for you. And when the Mom of the house let you go you were shaking. So I thought I’d ask you how you’re feeling now that things have died down a little.”

The spoon dropped from Scott’s claws. The sudden clatter made Owen flinch. “Sorry,” Scott said hurriedly, scooping up the spoon and shoving another bite of food into his mouth. He looked away as he chewed. One claw shot out, indicating to Owen to wait while Scott finished. 

By the way, Scott’s face grew a few shades paler, though, the tinker rat figured that this was more of an attempt to stall. “Scott?”

“Sorry…” Scott took a moment to swallow. The food must have gone down heavy because Owen could hear the gulp from across the table. “Of course I’m fine. You don’t have to worry. It’s not like I’m the only one who’s ever gotten tossed in a cage around here.”

“No, but I’d imagine your experience was a bit rougher than average…” “I said I’m fine.” Owen was surprised by the forcefulness in Scott’s tone. The farm rat was usually so quiet and polite. It wasn’t exactly impolite, but he had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in discussing further. “Although, speaking of which,” Scott continued with some of the curiosity and lightness returning to his voice as he changed the subject. “Any news on the recovery of that crow the daughter was taking care of? Were they able to put a splint on their wing?”

“Oh yeah,” Owen perked right up as memories of today's event started replaying in his head. “They managed to bandage up Kara’s wing a little better. It seems our attempt at first aid was a little lackluster. The wrapping had started coming loose.”

Scott nodded along, fully absorbed in this new conversation. “Well, none of us are medical professionals. How long will it take to heal?”

“I’m not sure, but-”

They carried on like this for the rest of the meal, discussing the day’s events and plans for the Christmas celebration. There was a lot of planning and things to look forward to, and Owen completely forgot about Scott’s dismissive response when he brought up the incident with the cage.

________________________________________

“Under the table! Under the table! Quick! QUICK!!”

“He’s right behind us!!”

Owen dove nose first under the coffee table left out in the entryway. Claws scrabbled at the tiled floor as he pressed himself beneath the bracers connecting its legs where the butler wouldn’t be able to reach him. As soon as he was out of harm's way, he turned to check if Scott had made it as well.

“Owen!”

His best friend was reaching out to him. His eyes were round with terror as he leaped for safety. “SCOTT!”

A large hand swooped down and the other rat disappeared behind massive fingers. Scott let out a strangled squeak as the human’s grip tightened around him.  His muffled voice faded as the hand carried him back up into the air.

“Drat. He got Scott.” Owen watched from his hiding place as the butler made for the lounge. There would be a rat trap in the back corner, nestled up against the fireplace. He’d been caught and tossed in that trap countless times. Once the coast was clear, he could run in and let Scott out. He would just have to keep an eye out for the cats. 

Moments passed, and eventually, the disgruntled butler left the lounge empty-handed. Owen couldn’t speak human, but he could tell by the tone of their voice that the butler wasn’t happy. But he was leaving and that was what was most important. That meant the clock was ticking on the opportunity to get Scott out of there.

He pulled himself out from under the table and tore across the linoleum. Please don’t let there be cats. No cats. No cats. No cats. 

Luck was on his side today. No big hairballs were prowling around the lounge. It was a straight shot to the fireplace.

“I got you, Scott.” With one great leap, Owen launched himself up onto the platform the cage was resting on. He shoved down the lever on the latch. The metal door fell open with a clank. “Let’s go before he comes back.”

He turned to jump back off the countertop but stopped when he didn’t hear pawsteps behind him. When he looked back, Scott was still inside the cage. He was looking down at the bars on the floor, one hand gripping a wire making up the wall. 

“Scott?”

Owen padded back, but Scott still didn’t make any move to leave. “Everything alright,” he asked, ducking into the cage with his friend. 

“I’m fine.” Scott’s voice was small. He usually was pretty soft-spoken, but this was even quieter than normal for the farm rat. Now that Owen was closer, he could see Scott’s shaking shoulders and hands.  

“Are you sure…” 

“I’m sure.” With a deep breath, Scott squared his shoulders. The shaking stopped as a big, empty smile stretched across his face. “Thank you for saving me.” With that, he scampered out of the cage, leaving Owen to follow after.

Owen blinked with surprise. “Hey, wait for me,” he shouted before jumping down after his friend. 

Scott looked over his shoulder as he ran on all fours. There’s mischief glinting in his eye. The smile on his face began to look a little more real. “Last one to the attic is a rotten cat!” he calls. 

“Hey!” Owen pushes past his concern for his friend. Scott wouldn’t want to talk about it anyway. He was okay now. Everyone got spooked when the humans caught them. That was all it had been. It had to be.

Owen was generally bigger than Scott. Faster than him too. Scott may have a head start on him, but there was no way he was losing this race. “I’m going to make you eat those words!”

____________________________________________________

“Hey, have you noticed anything off about Scott lately?”

Owen put the glass in his hand down on the bar counter. Only half of his drink had been emptied, but Martyn was already pouring him another glass. He nodded his thanks, wrapping his fingers around the base of the cup without really lifting it off the bar. “What do you mean?”

It was just the two of them at the moment, but it was getting late and the other rats around the attic would start filtering into the bar sooner or later. That was fine by Owen, it had been a long day. He could sit back and enjoy the warm atmosphere and excessive amount of Christmas decorations Martyn had set up around the business. It was one of the more elaborate builds in the attic and a good place to kill time now that Owen was no longer banned.

“Maybe ‘lately' is the wrong word,” Martyn said, crossing both arms and leaning against the counter from the server’s side. “It’s been going on for a bit, but hasn’t he seemed a bit more twitchy whenever the other humans are passing by?”

Owen smirked and rolled his eyes. “I would hope everyone is twitchy around them. Not keeping your guard up will get you captured. Or dead.”

Martyn shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, you’re not wrong. It just seems to me, like, whenever one of us gets into trouble, Scott immediately is there. He’s always the first to jump when one of us gets caught. He’s almost always the one to flick the switch. And when he gets caught… Well, I’ve never had a panic attack myself before but it sure does make me think of one. I can get freaking out when you’re in one of those cages, but it’s like Scott just… I don’t know. Shuts down?”

Despite himself, Owen couldn’t keep his ears from drooping at Martyn’s words. The other rat’s eyes followed the small movement. How could he not? They were a dead giveaway to Owen’s own thoughts on the matter. “I see. So you’ve noticed it too.”

It shouldn’t surprise the tinker rat that the others would have caught on as well. 

“He doesn’t want to talk about it.” Owen stared down at his own reflection in his glass. It looked back at him with a somber expression. “It’s been happening ever since the basement blew up and the janitor caught him. I’ve tried asking him if he’s okay, but he just says that he’s fine. I don’t think he’s actually fine.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Owen shot a glare at the other rat. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. It’s you two who are all buddy buddy all the time. Surely you’ve got something in mind.”

“I don’t,” Owen admitted. “Not really. I guess I’ll just keep being there for him if he needs me. And if he wants to talk about it, then I’ll listen.” 

Martyn smiles. He uncrosses his arms and pushes off the bar as he reaches for another glass. “Good plan. And if you want there’s always the option to get him drunk and see if he’ll talk then, huh?”

“Martyn,” Owen hissed in disdain. “Don’t talk like that. That would never work.”

“Well, you might want to tell him that,” the older rat says, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. Owen was about to ask him what he meant by that when Martyn’s attention shifted from him to something behind him. “Hey Scott,” he called, holding up the glass. “What can I do you for?”

“Hey Martyn,” Scott’s voice drifted from the direction of the doorway. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here to see if Owen wants to grab a bite to eat.”

Owen’s breath catches in his throat as he whirls around to see his best friend stepping into the room. “Hi…” He breathes, feeling somewhat panicked. How much had Scott heard? By the serene smile on the farm rat’s face, he hoped the answer was ‘nothing.’ Scott didn’t look like he had heard anything from that conversation. “Hi,” he replied back. “Are you hungry?” “Huh? Oh, yeah. Actually. I’m famished. I just… let me just finish-”

“You know,” Martyn cut in. “I did just pour one out for Owen, and I have plenty of leftover steak I swiped from the pantry earlier today. How about I throw some on a plate for the two of you? On the house.” 

Owen shot the other rat a pointed glare, but Martyn was outright ignoring him. The older rat kept his eyes glued on Scott, who perked up at the idea. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you, Martyn. Here, let me pull up a seat.”

“Sure, and let me pour you one of your usuals to go with it.”

“Aww, thanks!”

Owen tried to stare down Martyn. Signal him with his ears or eyes. Something to get the other rat’s attention and get him to stop whatever he was getting at. Martyn noticed him. He smiled at Owen but continued to ignore him as he slipped into the back room to get the steak.

“This is nice,” Scott said, slipping into the stool beside Owen. “It’s been a while since we’ve eaten out or got drinks together. Hope you don’t have any plans after this, because if he starts playing Christmas tunes over the speaker we are doing karaoke.”

“Sure,” Owen said, nervously taking a drink from his glass. He was going to need it. “Let’s see where the night takes us.”

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Headcanons: Sunny Bridges

Sadly, Class of 3000's representation in the game is pretty minimal--with mainly just the Sunny Bridges' Auditorium giving it a spotlight. With that, my own headcanons for how its characters would fit in FusionFall have also been limited, as there just isn't much material to go off of. However, inspired from returning to some of the show's music, I'd like to expand on ideas I've had sprinkled with other posts I've made. For now, let's focus on none other than Sunny Bridges himself:

With the auditorium situated in what might be the heart of entertainment for the City areas, Marquee Row, it's unlikely that Sunny originally intended for it to be anything other than a typical venue. Likely constructed prior to his days as a teacher, he may not have even cared for it at all depending on whether or not it was built by the time he started losing his passion for music. It was just another mark of the fame that was wearing him down. However, after his experiences teaching, he started using the auditorium to give young and upcoming artists the chance to explore their own talent on a professional stage. Classes and workshops could be taught there alongside the big concerts, and the auditorium grew as a place of both education and community.

It should go without saying that his time as a teacher revitalized his passion, enough for Sunny to continue acting as a mentor. He might still have issues with the music industry itself, but he's found himself again, along with the importance of music in his life and the lives of those around him. Thanks to that, he wants to keep passing on those lessons and bits of wisdom to others.

That strength in music came in-full when the war hit. The invasion stretched across every community around the globe, with a sense of peace stripped from everyone. Even when nanos were introduced and the tide began to turn, with nothing to help people escape from the daily terrors and lack of normalcy, morale was low. However, that is one of the great powers of art: To give moments of escapism, beauty, and hope in otherwise awful situations. In a situation where people can't even walk out of their homes without facing monsters, where soldiers constantly roam through the streets, when all the places and things you did that you used to find comfort in have been taken from you... Music is something anyone can take part in no matter where they are or what they have. You don't even need tools or instruments when you've got a voice to sing with, feet to dance with, and hands to beat out a rhythm. Music is something any person can take with them anywhere and can be the most widespread and uplifting of the arts. Sunny knows this, and so his part of the war effort was to share that spirit with anyone who needed it.

The Fusion Fighter radio network was already established when Sunny began volunteering himself and his students. However, Sunny plays one of, if not the, biggest role for it. Besides his own music, he also has the connections to bring in many other great artists. Again, he may not like the music industry, but his knowledge of it and his work with his students has given him some means of handling a good chunk of the administrative stuff many other creatives can have difficulty managing. He can get a jumble of talents working like a well-oiled machine. He'll help set up live performances as well, particularly in the City areas and especially at the base in the underground mall.

Inevitably, these efforts that were once his step away from the spotlight have dragged Sunny back in. Before his name could fade from people's minds after he left stardom, he ended up becoming a figurehead among all of these war-time entertainers. Anyone who didn't know him before certainly knows him now, whether or not they're fans of his music. Resuming his celebrity status isn't something he wants, and he makes that point well-known. Nevertheless, he's also glad that his music is reaching people and for all the right reasons.

Sadly, Fuse does not think the same way. Of course, the tyrant won't go after artists the same as he will other figures in the war effort, but he has caught on to how much hope and inspiration Sunny gives to people. If Sunny is ever left vulnerable, Fuse's army will take the chance to take him out. On the upside, there's also plenty of soldiers who'll gladly protect the musician when called.

[kisskissbanggang]

Jumpspace Renegade - ep. 8 ✨🚀

[4.3k words, 15 min. read - Skz x Fem. Reader - Stray Kids Multi Fic, Scifi!au, Choose Your Own Adventure - SFW/Smut in Other Chapters - Changlix, Seungmin is a Flirt and a Fiend, Banter and Tension, Harmless Pranks, Infidelity, Scifi Guns, Always Check the Tags]

[Episodes on Fridays 7pm pst, Polling closes Saturdays 7pm pst]

[Series Masterlist | Come Say Hi!]

“How about a deal,” Minho offered. “Where you stop, I’ll stop. If you get dumped at the Hatchery or Sentury or whatever, I’ll detour with you if you’ll come with me to Victory Meridian.”

You thought about this. “Only me?”

“Only you,” Minho nodded. “I can't risk recruiting the crew; I don't trust them.”

“And if I don’t?”

“What, like if you decide to be a good crewmate and sell me out? That’s allowed, too. You can just say no. You can just tell me ‘goodnight, Minho’ and I’ll drop it.”

“That’s it?” you asked, your voices hushed in the more open service corridors. 

“I mean, I’ll stop trusting you, that’s all.”

You heavily considered your choices, but ultimately understood where the two of you sat in this scenario. All you had to do was say yes. All Minho expected was for you to say yes. And he may even expect that you'll turn on him if the situation gets bad enough. 

It was an easy decision. 

Minho was closing in on you against the wall of the service passage, pressing up real cozy again. 

“Goodnight, Minho,” you cooed. 

The outlaw’s gaze almost cracked. 

“I'm kidding,” you laughed. “I’m with you. I’ll let you know if anything interesting comes up before we land on Phaborus.”

Minho looked bewildered for a second, and even more when you leaned in to kiss his cheek goodnight. He staunchly rebuffed the move, leaning back an inch. “Good. No more of that, though.”

“Because I joked?!”

“No,” Minho shook his head, “I don't fool around with wingmen. It gets messy. Get some shut-eye.”

It was your turn to look bewildered when Minho lifted his cuffed hands to ruffle your hair and promptly leave. 

“That’s fine!” you called after him. “I’ll just send Jisung down next time I'm thinking of you!”

“Good!” Minho repeated over his shoulder. “He and I have unfinished business.”

You watched Minho head back to the cargo hold before you remembered how dumb you just were. Your cabin door was still locked, wasn't it? That’s what got you out here in the first place. You peeked into your room.  

Only to find that it wasn't locked at all. It was open. 

You climbed back up into your cabin, only to find that the hatch in your closet was open, too. Chan must have come in at some point to set you free. 

You tiptoed out to the workshop, seeing if there were any signs of life in here. The tarp covering the boat was pulled off, and when you crept closer for a curious look, you found Felix and Changbin tangled together under a blanket on deck, dozing like babies. 

Sleep sounded great. 

The events of the day caught up to you all at once. Your shoulders ached in a soreness that radiated down through to your hips. You dragged yourself into the shower for a much needed full-body scrub, and finally into bed. Astral clouds and fields of stars escorted you to sleep. 

Hours elapsed. 

Sleeping here still felt leagues better than back home. 

You were only sort of surprised that you were up again shortly after midday. Your room was still set to have ambient light that would change depending on the time of the day cycle, so you'd actually managed to sleep through hours of light. 

The ship was still largely quiet when you took a look around, but a voice called out to you when you entered the galley. 

“Hey, you’re up already!” 

You turned to see Changbin poking his head into the doorway of his cabin. He waved you over. 

“Come help me with something, would you?”

You nodded, attentively trotting into the mechanic's cabin. Today, given how warm the ship still felt (even after cooling off for hours) you’d opted for a breathable long-sleeve top with some cargo shorts, much roomier and comfier than yesterday's workout set. Your new boots still squeaked on the metal floor. 

Changbin’s cabin was attractively clean, maybe not methodically spotless but still organized and well-kept. A pull-up bar was welded onto the back of his cabin door and a set of weights sat in the corner under his packed bookshelf. His open closet was outfitted with extra compartments in the shelves. On the bed, Changbin had two outfits laid out. 

“We never go anywhere as nice as Phaborus lately,” Changbin explained. “I mean, it's the Hatchery, so it’s all tourists and fishing companies, but I missed going out. Trying to figure out what to wear before I go wash up and shave.”

The chosen outfits surprised you. Solely based on what you knew about Phaborus, you’d assumed the whole planet was tropical, but Changbin had pulled out rain gear and other stylishly warmer options. He picked up the black shirt on the left and held it up to his chest in the mirror on the inside of the closet door before grabbing the gray shirt on the right and doing the same. 

You took a seat at Changbin's desk. The surface was an amalgam of his personal tools, his accessories and colognes, and an amusingly sizable collection of pictures. A notable amount of the photos were of Felix, all freckles and beaming smiles. One photo featured Changbin with two women that he shared a charming resemblance with. You picked it up, enjoying the idea of having a family out there. Behind the picture, however, was another. This photo was of a woman. A gorgeous redhead. 

“Who’s this?” you casually asked. 

Changbin looked at you holding the other photo. “Spitting image, right? My sister and my mom,” he coolly answered. “I’m thinking the gray is a little more flattering today. Maybe with the task boots?”

You did a double take at the photos before realizing Changbin hadn't answered your question. The misunderstanding nagged at you, but before you could ask again he came over, plucking a watch up off a little display stand. It wasn’t overtly flashy, but it was noticeably nice. 

“Did I show you? Felix got it for me,” he gushed. “He knows me so well.”

“You two are so close,” you complimented. 

“We are,” Changbin nodded. “I’ve never felt seen by anyone the way Felix sees me.”

You marveled over that. It sounded so easy for him to say. “He sees you?”

Changbin nodded affirmatively again, this time choosing between bags. “Yeah. I feel like I'm really myself around him. I don't think I've felt that way around anyone before, honestly. I'd leave everything behind in a heartbeat if he said the same thing.”

Everything? Aside from the family you weren't sure what much more there was to leave behind. 

“Hey, did you eat yet?” Changbin suddenly asked, getting your attention back. 

You sat up straight, setting the photo down and shaking your head. Changbin pointed out towards the galley. 

“If my nose doesn't deceive me,” he continued, “I think you can grab a bite before everyone else wakes up.”

Sure enough, something delicious was wafting in from the kitchen. You got up from the desk and picked up one of the two bags, the handsome, waxed canvas crossbody, and plonked it in his hands. He affectionately booted you out before closing the door behind you. 

Out in the galley, Jisung was sat alone in the booth. An unopened iced coffee waited on the table while he peacefully dozed in his upright position. Back in the kitchen, Felix helped Jeongin with the cooking. They spied you coming in nonetheless, not nearly as distracted as the activity would suggest. Before Jeongin could step away, Felix reassuringly patted his shoulder before greeting you with a wide smile. You managed to be the first to grab a scone and proudly had half of it in your mouth already.

“Morning, dude,” he grinned. “You think you can round everyone up and make them eat something? I have a plate saved for you in the warmer.”

“Oh!” you absently responded, your mouth still stuffed full. “Sure?” It was a little maddening to let all the food wait without you, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t get it done and do Felix a favor. You ran through a quick roster of who Felix would be referring to. That would be Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Chan, right? And you’d have to see if Minho was awake, you supposed. You nodded your acceptance to Felix and set about your task.

You first trotted down to the cargo hold, seeing if your suspicions were correct. Sure enough, Minho was sleeping like a baby in the brig, all wrapped up under his coat. Two rooms faced you behind the staircase to return upstairs. You tried the open door first. Upon finding no Hyunjin, you guessed that this could be Jeongin’s cabin. It was mysteriously empty, lacking the accumulation of stuff the other crewmates had. Some trinkets and a couple photos decorated the space, maybe having been picked up on his travels with the crew thus far. You remembered Jisung mentioning that the cabin boy had been a stowaway, too. It was easy to get distracted wondering where he’d come from, what he was leaving behind. 

Back on track, you tried the other door and were surprised to find this cabin pitch dark, save for one small lamp casting a blue glow. Hyunjin carefully inspected something on his desk with a pair of magnification glasses and some sort of meter. A pair of headphones snug on his ears were blasting music. You leaned closer over his shoulder. As it turned out, the tiny object was actually a small picture, maybe even a painting by how the arm on the meter gingerly scratched the piece’s surface. You accidentally leaned forward an inch too far, pressing into Hyunjin’s back and making him jump. 

“Holy shit!” Hyunjin wheezed, whipping off the glasses and headphones. He flipped on a regular lamp and wheeled around on you, catching his breath. 

“I’m sorry!” you apologized with a wince. “You looked busy.”

“It’s okay,” Hyunjin waved you off with a small laugh. “Did you come to finally ask me about your Clessorian ring?”

You ogled him. “How did you know?”

Hyunjin shrugged. “I’m not interested in stealing it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Too much trouble?” you joked.

“We’re locked in a tin can together,” Hyunjin smirked. “Not a great idea to steal from anyone here if I don’t plan on making a sale.”

“Admirable. Where are you selling that?” you asked, gesturing towards the little painting.

Hyunjin’s eyes lit up. “This? I’d never sell this. Maybe trade, if requested, but I’m actually returning it when we get to the Hatchery.” He placed the small picture in your hands. Looking at it closer, it depicted a gorgeous treeline and dark blue waves, accented in white seafoam. “Isn’t it great? I found it the last time we were in a convoy.”

“What is it exactly?” you wondered.

“It’s a Phaborian mating pendant,” Hyunjin explained. “Phaborians present these to their potential partners; it’s supposed to depict their future home and life together. Poor ones make them themselves, rich ones get them commissioned, and generic ones are mass produced for the tourist trade. This one just happens to be of the Hatchery, so I’m finding somewhere to return it when I’m done trading. I’m just testing it to make sure it’s, y’know, not one of the tourist ones.”

You examined the painted pendant in your hand. The delicate brushstrokes scratched the pad of your thumb gingerly passing over the surface. It’d be cool to get one of these, you mused. You thought of Changbin and Felix. 

Yeah. It’d be nice to have something like that someday.

“You want to come along when I go trading?” asked Hyunjin, gently taking the pendant back from you. “The market at the Hatchery is pretty neat.”

“I’d love that. It sounds fun,” you grinned appreciatively. You nodded back out to the hold. “But first you should grab something to eat.”

“Fair enough,” Hyunjin nodded, setting his work down and following you back up to the galley.

Jisung was still sleeping where you left him, and you couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed a nutrient shake from the cooler and swapped out the cans, taking his still unopened coffee for yourself. One of the little love bites Minho left Jisung was still an angry purple on his neck.

You jogged up the stairs, finding no apparent signs of life but faced with the task of trying to access Chan’s door for the first time. The door was clearly outlined in the alcove of the staircase but lacked an apparent knob or switch or lever or anything. You looked the door up and down. There was a quaint little pattern lining the door. Three little squares recessed into the metal panel, and then two further down, and three again, alternating all the way around until–

Oh. Well, duh.

The sequence broke, leaving a chain of three lined-up squares in a column of three. You felt around these, until the center of the center line lit up.

Cute.

You crept into Chan’s room, the right way. There was no sign of activity around; no hint of the captain being awake, and then you finally caught your prize: a blanketed lump on the bed. 

Coming closer, Chan was curled up under his thick blanket. You stroked his hair and got no response. You pinched his cheek with the same result. Dead asleep.

But, to your delight, his cybernetic leg was exposed. The need to meddle returned. He did cuff you and lock you in your cabin the previous night, after all. You leaned down, taking Chan’s foot at the articulated joint of his ankle and manually twisting it the wrong way around. 

Take that, you gloated internally. 

You straightened back up, ready to leave when a hand grabbed your leg. You screeched.

“Put it back,” Chan grumbled into his pillow, eyes not even opening to look at you.

You froze, trying to get your wits back about you before automatically cooperating.

“Lee back in the hold?” he groggily asked, still muffled. You nodded before you remembered he wasn’t seeing you.

“Yes, dear,” you sarcastically cooed.

“Atta girl,” he praised sleepily. He affectionately patted your leg before simply grabbing the iced coffee out of your hand. You let him, waiting a bit to see if that was what he needed to get up.

No further activity.

“You’ll miss chow time,” you chided him.

“Sucks for me then. Now go on.”

He waved you away. You thoroughly rolled your eyes, using the far more convenient access on this side of the door to exit Chan’s cabin. 

That left the navigator. You peeked around the corner to check the navigation office. Nothing. However, more music was blasting inside Seungmin’s cabin beside it. You knocked, trying to stop yourself from barging in wherever you wanted. No answer. You thought about this. 

Well, you didn’t want Seungmin to miss meal time. You poked your head in.

The navigator was busily working at his desk, touching up a physical chart laid out in front of him. Surprising you this time, Seungmin turned to regard you before you had a chance to make your presence known. 

“I see you like sneaking,” he grinned.

“I’ve come to profess my love for you,” you dramatically admitted.

“Ugh, finally,” Seungmin smirked. You got a better look at the chart now. In big letters in the caption read GALLORIAN STRAIT, PHABORUS AKA “THE HATCHERY”.

“You're still working on the charts?” you questioned.

“Hey,” the navigator chuckled, “you’re the intruder, I’m asking the questions here. Now what’s this I hear about a ring made out of Clessorian ore?”

Your eyes widened. Your fists instantly clenched. You were agog, mouth opening and closing like a grounded fish.

“How does everyone know?!”

Seungmin laughed out loud, eyes turning up and all. “Word gets around! Anyway, it’s not like I want to steal it, so calm the hell down. I have much bigger fish to fry if you can’t tell.”

“I thought the whole idea with the detour was that you were finished,” you wondered.

The navigator took a second, taking his glasses off and massaging his temples. “Yeah, I thought so, too. But I failed to recall that Phaborian sailors prefer to keep physical charts on board in case their systems go down. I had my final meeting with my customers and they’re like, ‘oh, we’re filling out the customs request, they want to know if you’re using packing tubes or packing sleeves’ and I’m like, ‘packing what’ and that’s when I remembered I’m actually a moron.”

“Ouch,” you sympathized. “Can I help at all?”

“You wanna come along when I make the drop?” Seungmin asked. “I can always use backup.”

“Oh,” you realized, “I’d love to! But I meant like here and now. Like, I’m no good with this but I could maybe bring you something to eat?”

A tough sigh fell out of Seungmin’s chest. He hung his head before getting up. “No, I should take a break.”

“Great,” you smiled reassuringly before you dramatically gestured again. “But you mustn’t tell anyone of our sordid affair.”

You laughed off your own dumb joke with a shake of your head, but that was before Seungmin grabbed your wrist and pulled you in nice and close. A pathetic, gasped curse eked out of you. His hands were wrapped around your waist. 

“You are such a little troublemaker, you know that?” he laughed, smooth and low. “I already told you, you don’t want to play with me like that; I get jealous, remember?”

You wriggled out of Seungmin’s grip and he ran after you when you fled, trying to keep your composure. He was shockingly suave, apparently, daunting after he seemed so unassuming. He instantly caught up with you when you made it to the top of the stairs, spinning you around and caging you in again. It was unexpectedly difficult to meet his gaze. First, you felt ridiculously bashful for some reason, and second, when you did look, he was giving you the most sly grin that made your heart beat faster than your encounter with Minho.

“You don’t even know what you’d do with me, do you,” Seungmin chuckled.

“Aren’t I the one that’s supposed to be asking that?” you tried to retort.

Seungmin nodded. “Sure, but I don’t think you know what you’re even doing. Surprising, given how clever you come across as.”

“Who says I’m not clever?” you giggled, far more nervously than you intended.

What the hell was going on? You never got flustered like this before. 

“You don’t do this a lot, do you, Nova?” Seungmin grinned. “You don’t spend a lot of time having someone’s full attention.”

I mean, you internally babbled, like outside of the bedroom?

It was stupidly true. Dating was never really your thing, and especially not when you had a parole officer following your every move. And it wasn’t like there were many options back in T’kaarm. You either knew everyone or they were all tourists. Perfect for passing flings, sure, but not really suitable for whatever the hell Seungmin was currently hypnotizing you with.

“What’re you looking for here?” you finally asked him. 

Seungmin’s lips were agonizingly close to yours but he wouldn’t lean in any further. “I just thought you were looking for a game of chicken. I’m really good at it. Are you?”

He did lean in now, just another centimeter. Your breath hitched in your throat.

When the resounding snap of blaster fire rocked the staircase. Both your attentions whipped to look down the stairs when another blast caught the railing. You could hear more commotion now.

“Felix!”

You and Seungmin traded worried looks before cautiously making your way downstairs. What you found out there was surprising.

Most noticeable was Felix, brandishing the blaster and trying to get around Jisung, with the pilot awake and madly trying to corral him. And Felix’s aim? Trained on a very distressed Changbin, wearing only a towel after his shower.

“A WIFE, CHANGBIN?!” Felix roared. He ducked into his cabin next to Changbin’s and was tossing things out, likely belonging to the mechanic.

Changbin caught a black hoodie to the face before Jisung could intercept, uselessly trying to herd Felix back into his cabin while Jeongin tried to escort Changbin into his.

“Baby, no–” Changbin brokenly tried to reason with him.

“Baby, nothing, you son of a bitch!” Felix seethed. “A boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever? Sure, that’d suck but I’ve had worse. A kid? I’d deal with that. But you’re fucking married?”

Seungmin tried to grab your sleeve before you could take a few more steps down the stairs, but you shook him off. You still didn't enter the galley, though, opting instead to hang out in the stairwell. 

Felix tried to duck around Jisung again before he was promptly tripped and wrestled down to the floor. The two grappled, with Jisung taking an errant elbow to the eyepatch. He squealed out a curse before fixing it and getting back on track. 

“Felix? Sweetheart?” Jisung frantically tried to get his attention. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Married, Jisung!” Felix shouted back. “Can you believe I'm so stupid?! He’s always telling me ‘no, baby, not my room, it’s a mess’ and I've been blind enough to accept that shit?!”

Jisung sat up on Felix’s hips, but not without wrestling the blaster away. Hyunjin jumped forward to grab it and keep it safely out of reach, hugging it to his chest. “Yeah, no, honey,” Jisung babbled, “you’re right; that’s shitty. Did something happen, though?”

“So I decide I'll wait for Changbin while he’s in the shower! Maybe be helpful and clean, fuck if I know! And what do I find on his computer?”

Jisung stared. All the men stared, except for Changbin, who was looking at the floor with his hands on his hips.

“A message from this mystery wife!” Felix laughed hysterically. “She’s wondering where the deposit is for the month! Doesn't he know they have a house to pay for?!”

The door to Changbin’s cabin slammed closed, and Jeongin worriedly opened it again to run after him. His door shut far more calmly now. 

“Fuck, Felix,” Jisung sighed. “That sucks, love. I'm so sorry.”

The pilot finally leaned off of Felix’s slim frame. Felix sat up now, arms resting on his drawn up knees. He hung his head with his own deep exhale. “I’m the sorry one,” he lamented. 

“Anything we can do?” Hyunjin asked from where he was still plastered to the wall. 

“Just some space would be great, thanks.” Felix got up to his feet and tersely threw his cabin door open. You all winced when the door roughly clanked shut behind him. 

“Well…” Seungmin finally piped up behind you. “I guess I'm taking that break.”

The four of you were awkward when you reassembled at the booth. You’d grabbed the plate Felix promised you, and with both Chan and Minho still sleeping, everyone else managed to grab some food. The air at the table was tense.

“So this is the worst one, right?” Hyunjin asked into his plate. 

“What, Felix and Changbin fighting?” Jisung questioned. He opened the nutrient shake you’d set in front of him and took a big swig. Upon realizing it wasn’t the coffee he’d originally grabbed, he reeled, nearly sputtering it out. He did a double take at the can. You sheepishly slid over a new iced coffee in front of him. You'd grabbed it when you realized now might not be the time for harmless pranks. 

“Well, like,” Hyunjin processed, “there was that time with Felix and that waitress at Sentury.”

“And the time when Changbin got drunk at the Caravan,” Seungmin contributed. 

“And the time when Felix took that bet at Saykorr,” Hyunjin nodded. “But this one is big. This one feels major.”

“Yeah, this is the worst out of all of those,” Jisung decided. “Maybe some space could be good for both of them?”

Seungmin thought about this. “I can take Changbin with me to go drop off the charts,” he suggested. 

Hyunjin agreed with a nod. “And I was already going to bring Felix with Nova and I to the market.”

“Can I come?” Jisung asked Hyunjin. “I could pick up a couple things while you're there.”

The navigator paused his current chew of food. “Nova’s going with you to the market? She already said she was coming with me.”

The three of you – you, Hyunjin, and Seungmin – all looked at each other. Jisung scanned all of your faces, too, massively awkward and confused while he drank his coffee. 

“Well?” he finally asked, breaking the silence. He caught his breath for a second, like he’d swallowed too much at once in the tension. You gave the pilot a sideways look in the booth. “What do you wanna do?”

You froze, considering your options with a lump in your throat. There was the obvious choice of doing nothing, of course. You could avoid the awkwardness altogether and stay behind, but you’d miss out on Phaborus. 

And if you went, it’d be really interesting to see a Phaborian fishing company, but Seungmin was already doing really well at getting under your skin. But Changbin would be coming along, too, and it'd be reassuring to get his side of the story. You liked Changbin. It sucked to think he was a no–good cheater. There had to be something in the story that no one knew. 

However, if you tagged along with Hyunjin, you could connect with Felix and check out the market. You could hang out with Jisung, comfort Felix, and see Hyunjin in his element while he went trading. It could very well be way more enjoyable all around.

[paintedscales]

a04 :: Long Showers

Having invited Estinien out to the Island Sanctuary for the first time, the two get a well deserved shower after tending to the fields.

Very domestic, very fluff. Aside from mentioning disrobing, not really explicit, tbh.

Word Count: 1,703

"By night's good graces…" Nomin sighed, placing her hands upon the small of her back and standing up straight. She soon stretched, leaning herself back as a satisfied groan left her lips. Her tail wiggled behind her impulsively as her muscles cried out in relief while she held her pose. Sweat trickled down her face and scales, for she had been tilling and tending the gardens that the mammets cleared the way for.

"Tired already?" Estinien asked, leaning with his hands at the butt of the garden hoe, his chin being brought to rest upon them. His steel gaze watched Nomin, and while it seemed he worked up his own sweat, he had been more ready and willing to continue working on the fields.

"My back is just finally starting to ache again," Nomin said, a slight strain to her voice as she then stretched her arms up. "I've been exploring, gathering, and making sure I understand the lay of the island while the mammets cleared out suitable land for other projects. I can't even begin to wrap my head around scheduling and their workshop orders right now. And yes, I do know I probably shouldn’t be doing so much after everything, but I can’t help it! You couldn't really expect me to get all this from Tataru and simply idle my time away, could you?"

"I suppose not…though when you bade me come visit, 'twas not being set to labor that I expected," Estinien mentioned, a hint of amusement evident by the slight smirk on his lips. He stood back up and took the gardening tool in his possession to resume tilling the field.

"Did you want to stop? We can just enjoy the island while you're here," Nomin posited with a sheepish smile. She had not actually asked him to help out, only mentioned that she wanted to do some light work on the garden. Though, that 'light work' ended up becoming a several bell endeavor that Estinien decided to lend his hand to with nary a complaint at the time.

"Nay… It won't be long before the work here is truly completed," Estinien mentioned. "Besides, I would hate to leave you with a half finished set of fields before I must leave back for Thavnair. But if you find yourself in need of rest, you should take it."

Even if Estinien said it with every onze of care for her well being, there was a little spark of competitiveness that got activated in Nomin’s mind. Though her muscles wanted for further rest, Nomin took up her own gardening hoe with a shrug and tiny smirk.

"It'll go faster with the two of us," Nomin replied, walking out to a patch where the fields remained in need of tilling.

And so the fields continued to get tilled by the two of them. The scrape of metal against dirt and loosened rocks filled the air. Minor banter between Nomin and Estinien sometimes weaved itself through moments of silence. All till eventually the sun committed to its descent and cast a warm golden glow upon the land and waters.

Nomin let out a satisfied, yet exhausted sigh as she ran the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. She admired the work that she and Estinien managed: tilled fields that were fertilized, removed of weeds and rocks, and were made soft and loamy for the planting of seeds. Leaning the garden hoe against the face of the small cliff side, Nomin pointed a grin in Estinien’s direction.

"At this point, we're due for a good, long shower," Nomin mentioned, raising a hand to push some few stray locks of hair out of her face. "We haven't made a well yet to draw water more conveniently, so we'll have to travel a little ways to where I've been taking care of myself when I need to bathe."

"So long as it is not around those mammets, I care not for where it is," Estinien replied, moving the gardening tool that he had been using to lean against the same cliff face. Lifting an arm, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt before motioning forward vaguely. "Lead the way, then."

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

Nomin collected her various toiletries in a wooden basin before getting Estinien to follow her to a waterfall not far from the cave that led away from the main site. The rush of the waterfall roared louder and louder as they neared. Nomin only offered Estinien a somewhat sheepish expression as she motioned toward it.

“It’s a little…removed from the amenities we had in Sharlayan, Thavnair, or even the Rising Stones…” Nomin started. “But it gets the job done for now until the mammets and I can figure something out. I’ve been working on a cabin blueprint before I commit to getting wells dug.”

“‘Tis fine. It shan’t be worse than training within the frigid waters of Coerthas to temper the body,” Estinien nonchalantly replied, a slight shrug to accompany his words. He began unbuttoning his shirt, walking forward all the while.

"Well, it's…" Nomin began in response before watching Estinien walk off. She picked up her pace and hurried along after him. "It's still a little frigid. I have some fire shards at the site if you'd like warmer waters."

"I imagine that is more what you wish. I seem to remember you shivering like a lost lamb when we traveled across Coerthas." Estinien looked back at Nomin with a teasing smirk upon his lips. "Never mind how your hands shook when you aimed an arrow at me upon our first meeting. Were I not dripping in blind arrogance, I may have been worried you would have somehow injured yourself."

Nomin gawked at Estinien, a sharp scoff tumbling from her mouth.

Removing his shirt, Estinien placed it upon a nearby rock to keep dry. His smug expression met Nomin’s, which was still laced with disbelief, and he began removing the rest of his clothing. Though Nomin would have found herself drawn to Estiniens features, she huffed and shook her head before finally chuckling gently.

Beginning to remove her own clothes, Nomin set the basin aside. Every now and then, she stole a glance at Estinien now that she had gotten past his quip -- taking in the sights of some of the scars he bore that she had not noticed prior.

Deep, dark slash scars along his back that she could only remember feeling underneath her fingertips that passionate night before they boarded the Ragnarok. There were, of course, lighter scars that dotted his body. Seeing them in the light really made her think about the past traumas and instances he found himself in before she shook her head and took up her basin of toiletries and trotted up to Estinien at the water’s edge.

Where Estinien was non-hesitant about getting himself into the water, Nomin had to psych herself. She set the basin down nearby where they could use it, and removed her hair tie and allowed her hair to fall in wavy tresses around her. Taking in a breath, she looked up at the waterfall, and then to the water in front of her before finally running in to get the worst over with. She danced from foot to foot once she placed herself underneath the cascade, vocalizing her discomfort all the while with some few shivers and whines.

“Did you not say yourself that you had fire shards to mitigate this very instance?” Estinien asked, stepping underneath the water with Nomin, his own hair tie removed. He was completely unbothered by the chill of the waters as they fell over him.

“Y-y-yes…” Nomin said between chattering teeth.

“That the Warrior of Light’s weakness truly is their aversion to the cold…” Estinien said with a smirk, reaching over to pick out the bar of soap from the wooden basin. “So then, where are these shards of yours? I will not have you freezing away, unable to properly clean yourself for the better part of this session.”

“U… U-u… Up…” Nomin managed to get out, holding herself and rubbing her arms. She looked up, pointing with her nose. When Estinien looked, he noticed little glints of orange and red embedded within the rock face before holding his free hand up and pressing it against the wall.

“... I do have to admire your own sense of survival and your methods… Though would it not have made more sense to activate them before stepping under the water knowing you get cold easily?” Estinien asked, focusing on his aether to activate the shards within the cliff face. The shards shimmered to life, glowing a brighter orange -- almost yellow in some cases -- soon imparting a warmth to the waterfall that made Nomin finally stop shivering so much.

“Lapse in thought…” Nomin replied, not exactly lying.

She picked up a flask that held her shampoo and started washing and cleaning her hair first. She did not get far before Estinien was felt behind her and he placed his hands atop Nomin’s head to help lather and massage her scalp. His motions were mindful, taking care not to tug or pull should his fingers have run into tangles or snags. He was, in fact, gentle about getting any he found loosened.

From there, that was what their shower beneath the falls were mostly like; a prolonged session where they helped one another get cleaned. It had even gotten to a point where the two of them simply sat beneath the stream of water, basking in one another’s company. At least until Nomin finally got on her knees behind Estinien and gave him the same kindness of tenderly washing his hair, gently running her fingers through the wetted tresses to remove snags and little tangles.

Once done, Nomin relaxed and wrapped her arms around Estinien’s neck and shoulders lovingly, resting her chin upon his shoulder as she hugged her body to his back. They basked in the comfort and vulnerability of the moment. A moment of rest that Estinien found himself appreciative of. A moment of belonging that Nomin often craved. It was theirs amidst this peaceful instance upon the aptly referred to sanctuary.

[quinloki]

How about 22 for the self-ship prompts, for the ship of your choice? 💙

22 is: Write about a member of your ship giving the other a special gift.

I have a few ideas, I might do them all in short form (warnings for angst, canon compliance, AU, sappy shit idk what all I’ll do xD - sfw though!)

Gifting Eustass Kid

I put the last few finishing touches on the scrapbook and made a face. It was the best gift you had been able to come up with for Kid, but maybe it too personal.

Getting my hands on a snail that took pictures had been a trial and a half. Pretending to take up photography just to disguise my plans hadn’t been nearly as bad, and as a side effect I’d gotten pretty good at snapping pictures. Even managed to soften the flash so I could take day time images sneakily.

I’m the end I had a scrap book of photos from the last year. Celebrations, conquests, and even a few somber moments had been caught on film. Accented and documented with dates and quotes, and the best doodles I could manage.

It was personal. Intimate on a level I wasn’t sure was okay, but at this point I had put my whole ass soul into it, I might as well deliver it.

Wrapping it some cloth and tying it up I went in search of the Captain. Luck was on my side, at least with the delivery, since Kid was alone in his workshop.

I knocked and heard the customary grunt that wasn’t the noise he usually makes when he prefers to be left alone. Stepping in I hang by the door for a moment until Kid waves me over.

“What’s up?” He asks. “And stay back, I’m welding.”

“I brought you a gift.” I say, trying not to sound nervous. “A birthday gift.”

I can sense the change in his body language, but he keeps welding.

“Let me finish this.”

“Of course.”

It only takes him a minute to finish and he sets the torch up after turning it off and turns toward me. Lifting his goggles up I get to see the cheeky smile and the glint in his eyes.

“Well, you’re not wearing it this year.” He muses looking over me before settling on the package in my hands. “That it?”

“Yeah.” I hand it over and take a step back. I haven’t felt nervous around Kid in a couple years, but this is different than our usual little dance. It’s not like we weren’t intimate emotionally, but even then it had been in the small hours of the day.

He unties it and unwraps it. There’s a small twitch across his brow, but I can’t tell if it’s disappointment or confusion. The cover was leather with inlaid words. I couldn’t do it myself, but Wire was really good at it and he helped.

House was good at book binding, and Hop had helped me make the paper. Heat made the ink for me, and well, by the end of it almost the entire crew had helped, even if it was just distracting Kid before he caught me working on it over the last year.

His eyes never leave it as he slowly turns each page. I’ve only ever seen him so focused on his gadgets like that before.

“It’s… I … er, kind of sap-.”

“You made this?”

“The… the crew helped. I don’t know how to tan leather, or bind books or make paper and ink, but I took the pictures and such.”

“But you made it.” He asserts. “Decided on all the images and words, told everyone else what to do?”

“Y-yeah, that’s fair to say.”

“For me.”

I almost laugh. “I ain’t doing all that for anyone else, so yeah.”

“… Fuck.” Kid almost chokes on the word, and before I can ask him what’s wrong he’s set the gift aside and hauls me into a hug.

“Haaa… I was worried it wasn’t going to be well received.” I admit, feeling my face heat up.

Kid holds me in place easily, and I return the hug as best I can. I don’t know if he’s crying or blushing or what, but I know that at least half the reason he’s hugging me is to hide his face. Part of me wants to tease him, but this doesn’t seem like the time for it.

“… Happy birthday, Captain.”

Gifting Sir Crocodile - warning there’s some post Wano spoilers, so proceed at your own risk.

“What’s this?” He raises one eyebrow, regarding the humbly wrapped box I had set in front of him with some akin to disdain.

“A gift.” I answer with a smile. He’s not truly put off, I can tell, especially after all this time.

“I explicitly stated I had no desire to celebrate my birthday.” He’s trying to look irritated but I can see the smile tugging at his lips.

“This is hardly a celebration.” I insist, coming around to his side of the desk, leaning on the arm rest of the chair and giving him a smile. “I could just tell Buggy today is your birthday. I’m sure someone as flashy as him-.”

“Point made.” He grumbles, true displeasure on his face for a moment before he sighs. “Very well, I accept.”

I smile as sweetly as I can. “Well, don’t keep me waiting, open it.”

“Demanding for such a small thing.” He teases, reaching out for the package, and opening it. An emotion flickers across his face, and it’s confusion more than anything else. “My dear, it’s beautiful, but I have several cigar humidors.”

The oak box had a cherry wood finish on the outside, decorated in bananawanis and quill feathers. White and yellow gold filigree decorated it, and dark crimson, nearly black stain had the phrase “Desert Flower” on the top. Against the cherry wood stain it was almost impossible to read.

“It’s not for cigars.” I explain with a smile. “Open it up.”

When he lifts the lid it reveals a velvet lined interior, and a strong smoky scent wafts up into the air. It’s filled with tea leaves.

“It’s a tea box. It’s designed to be mostly air tight, hence the lining. And the oak doesn’t have a strong scent, especially dried, so it doesn’t interfere with the tea’s scent. It’ll absorb them though, so as you come to enjoy more types of tea we’ll have to get you more.” I explain.

“But this is the first one you enjoyed.” I grin. “I think this is the tea that saved my life.”

“… You’re not entirely wrong, desert flower.” He admits. The expression on his face is much softer, and his arm sneaks around my waist as he pulls me in, stealing a kiss that tastes like his cigars.

At this point, it’s a flavor and scent I quite love.

“Thank you.” He says softly.

At that moment the doors burst open and Buggy walks in with a massive cake and an unamused Mihawk with him.

“You didn’t tell us it was your birthday!” Buggy huffs, pushing the cart into the room. “I can’t plan a proper celebration when I find out on the day of it!”

Crocodile growls and looks at me.

“This is not my fault.” I assert.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

J - Jewellery

Written for @maglor-my-beloved <3

Words: 900

Pairing: Celebrimbor x Maeglin, Bilbo & Yavanna

Warnings: Sadness & Trauma

Yavanna sat on a tree and hummed to herself.

“Lady,” Bilbo Baggins called up conversationally, “do you think that it was wise to let your husband participate in the healing efforts? Lady Estë seems out of sorts; she’s very worried about this.”

“Ah, dear Bilbo,” the lady of all things growing and flourishing replied in a voice as soft as rustling leaves, “you—of all people—must know best that Aulë and his creatures wither and die when they have nothing to do. Their heart is in the right spot, and they truly want to help, even if their way of going about it seems unconventional at first. Care to join me?”

She winked conspiratorially for—even though she evidently did support her spouse’s involvement—she intended to survey it from a safe distance to be able to intervene if necessary.

“So,” Aulë started grandiloquently, “I have opened my forge for you to…process some of the trauma you have sustained before your…demise.”

This was not going very well, judging by the unconvinced faces in front of him; he wondered how Manwë always managed to find the right words to sway people and move their hearts. Worse, he even pondered Melkor’s singular talents in that domain for a second.

“Have fun,” he finished in a much less powerful tone and returned to tend to his own forge in silence; the two who were here today knew their way around a workshop anyway, and they didn’t need his input—healing or otherwise—just yet.

“They work well together,” Bilbo commented in a soft voice as they watched the scene through the wide-open doors of the forge.

Lómion had only been coaxed out of the Halls of Waiting by the promise that there was one who would join in him Aulë’s new reinsertion program who was just as reticent to talk about what had happened to him as he was.

Celebrimbor on the other hand, had been desperate to get out, but—once reembodied—he had struggled considerably to get used to his hale flesh and the omnipresent shadow of guilt and resentment that haunted his family.

They didn’t speak about their parents—too daunting was the idea of unravelling the tight knot of mutual distrust, disappointment, and visceral resentment that had festered and hardened during the time they had spent apart.

One day, they well knew, they would have to face the truth and work their way through the family tree of the perpetually absent Finwë in their quest for forgiveness and healing—but they were not yet at a point where they could even consider this without shrinking back in dismay.

In each other though, they found a quantum of peace—they were kin in more aspects than could be counted and their souls recognised each other in the flickering reflections of the ever-burning fires of the forge.

Doomed by birth, they had rebelled against their parents—maybe even driven them to some of their most reckless and gruesome acts inadvertently—only to die alone, free or robbed of their protection and love. Such self-inflicted isolation and deprivation had marked them in ways few could even begin to understand.

“Beautiful,” Celebrimbor praised as he apprised the gem his kinsman brought over to set in the pendant he was crafting from thousands of metal tendrils, thin and flexible as single hairs and strong and enduring as mountains.

His eyes wandered from the polished stone to the pale, stern face of his collaborator and he repeated his previous assessment in a breathless, awed voice.

Both had found—to their surprise and relief—that they still delighted in the making of intricate jewellery, but they would refuse to devise rings or set stones into coronets and crowns—too deep was the trauma and too fresh the wounds for such designs.

Moreover, the name of that fallen Maia, who had almost ruined Middle-Earth, was never spoken. Each nurtured his grievances with the one who had pretended to be a friend and who had turned out to be a cruel torturer in private.

“In time,” Yavanna whispered, feeling that Bilbo’s own heart clenched in anger and pain at the thought of the one he had only ever known as Sauron. “You’ll learn the whole story. He was charming, you know? At the very beginning and almost until the end, he was an apt liar and a devastating seducer.”

“I guess,” Bilbo muttered, massaging his hands to dispel the phantom pain of a ring he had not worn nor even seen in a long time. “Will they be okay?”

Yavanna nodded at the forge where the ancient magic of skill and ambition was revived by deft hands, made anew by the grace of the Valar, blending techniques and ideas that had come from another world and another time.

Even as they spoke, Celebrimbor had lifted the delicate pendant off the table and presented it to Lómion in the brash, mute manner of a man who no longer trusted his words.

“It’s…a mole?” Bilbo breathed, amazed by the extraordinary skill the elf displayed. “Incredible! The style…reminds me…”

As Yavanna witnessed the choked sob of recognition and gratitude tearing itself from Lómion’s throat—he was a Nolofinwëan, and thus an ugly crier by nature—and hummed under her breath as her soul shivered in compassion.

“Hmmm, it has a dwarven flair indeed. That, my dear Bilbo,” she murmured, “is also a story for another day though.”

@fellowshipofthefics Here's another one :D

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist