#bad writing hehe sorry

[oxydiane]

'Now, Sirius, I think we can calm –'

'Don't!' Sirius interrupts the older man abruptly. 'Don't 'Sirius' me, I am not here as one of your old students or a member of the Order. I am here as a guardian who is demanding to know why the fuck you let my eleven-year-old on a jinxed broom.'

'I think there's been a misunderstanding here, what happened –'

'What happened –' Dumbledore's words are cut short yet again. 'Is I came all the way here from London to see my Godson play his first game on the house team and ended up with at least three new grey hairs because somebody cursed his racing broom! The racing broom I got him when he made the team.'

'I think your hair is as lovely as ever,'

'Shut the hell up! I want to know how that happened, how you let it happen and why the one responsible hasn't been found and kicked out of here, as far from Harry as possible!'

'You see... There were some... complications.'

'I'll show you complications!' Sirius' hands come down heavy on Dumbledore's office desk. 'You promised he would be safe here, and I trusted you not because I actually do trust, but because you are supposed to be the most powerful wizard alive, and you don't want to make me your enemy.' The venom is thick in his words.

'I promise you Harry is as safe as he could be.'

'Well, make it safer. I don't care how safe you think this place here is because Harry, the – the last good thing that's left in my life,' Dumbledore doesn't miss the quick way emotion seeps through Sirius' voice and face. It disappears as rapidly as it came. 'Harry could have died today, right in front of my eyes, and I will not have that. You understand me? Not even if I have to hunt down that person myself and take the entire castle down as I do. Do you understand?'

'Yes, I do.' His tone is anything but mocking.

Right before turning around and leaving the room, the door slammed as he left, Sirius bellows 'Good. Nobody, NOBODY, curses my Godson! If you mess with Harry, you mess with me, and you do not want to mess with me!'

[dulcesiabits]

rules of rationality.

summary: You’re one of the few people Alhaitham trusts to take care of him when he’s injured.

notes: 1.5k words, fic, mentions of injuries + blood, slight suggestive content

He always comes to you when he’s injured. 

Alhaitham never explains why, and you know better than to ask. He simply shows up at your door, methodically reciting his list of potential injuries, as you guide him to the couch and press gauze and disinfectant on his wounds. 

There could be any number of reasons that he’s been hurt, though you had joked that you didn’t think being the Akademiya’s Scribe was such a dangerous job when you first met him. Now, you think that it’s less of his job that’s the cause of all his little altercations, and more of a symptom of his personality. 

“You might need stitches,” you say. “I recommend going to a doctor.”

You perch on the arm of your couch, right above where Alhaitham’s head reclines on a pillow. He’s stretched across the length of it, his legs dangling over the other end. You’ve wrapped the wound around his torso as best as you can, tending to the little cuts and scrapes littering his body. Despite Alhaitham’s claims of fragility, you know that he’s not bad in a fight. Who on earth had gotten the better of him?

“A doctor would ask too many questions.” 

“You could die,” you say evenly. 

“You wouldn’t let me. It would leave too much of a mess on your couch.” Amazing how even a lethal injury couldn’t cure him of his arrogance.

You brush a hand over his bangs, lightly skimming his forehead with your palm. He’s warm, but not feverish. Infection doesn’t seem to be too much of a risk, at least for now.

As many times as you’ve cursed his name, he’s right. You won’t let him die, not like this.

“Who was it?”

“That’s not important for you to know.”

“If you do die, don’t you want me to avenge you?” you ask.

“Vengeance would be a foolish risk with no clear reward,” he responds evenly. 

You reach over and ghost your fingers down his cheek until you cup it one hand. He gazes back at you, unflinching. Alhaitham neither leans into your touch nor pulls away, but you know he wouldn’t have let you touch him if he didn’t want it.

“Why come to me?” you ask. You know the answer already, have heard it a dozen times already, but Alhaitham humors your little game.

“Why wouldn’t it be you?”

“You could go home and ask Kaveh to patch your wounds, too.”

“You know why I don’t.”

You do. Kaveh, as fond of him as you were, wouldn’t have handled the situation in a way that Alhaitham wanted. Kaveh would call the doctor, would demand names, would force Alhaitham to rest until he was healed.

On the other hand, you’re not nearly as kind as that. Maybe that's why Alhaitham always showed up at your door instead.

The first time an injured Alhaitham came to you was several years ago, when your partnership had just started, and you barely knew who he was. During your first meeting, he sought you out one day, as one of your shared confidants had given him your name. 

“Someone is smuggling knowledge capsules out of Sumeru. You know who.” That was the first thing Alhaitham said to you, and it had been a statement, not a question.

You smiled curtly at his brashness, a stranger who cornered you in an alley without any fanfare. “Why should I tell you anything, stranger?”

“Make a deal with me. Knowledge for knowledge.”

“And what can you offer me?”

His eyes had bored into you, unwavering. “I can offer you the Akademiya.”

Well. The wayward scholars who stumbled into your grasp weren’t nearly as enticing as the Akademiya’s Scribe. This was a once in a lifetime deal, and who were you to refuse? Knowledge was precious, your only form of currency and power, and someone had just offered you the key to the nation’s treasury. As it was, the two of you dealt in knowledge, but very different kinds. So you would give him information about the backdoor deals crawling around Sumeru, the whispers in the marketplace, the late night rumors. In return, he would give you access to the Akademiya’s wealth of papers, to academic history, to information most could only dream of.

So you told him the location of the smuggling, wished him luck, and returned home during the evening to find Alhaitham bleeding against your doorway.

“Don’t get blood on my carpet,” you had said, unlocking the door so he could stumble in. It didn’t surprise you that someone as smart as Alhaitham could guess the location of your hideout; what did surprise you, however, was the reason why he decided to go to you.

“My roommate is nosy. He would ask too many questions. And going to the doctor means risking rumors spreading about my condition,” he had explained, not even out of breath as you wrapped gauze around the gash on his arm.

“And what makes you think I wouldn’t use this against you? Alert your enemies where you’re hiding?” you replied.

“An information dealer who backstabs their customers wouldn’t make it through the night.” And there it was again, his eyes on yours, eyes like cold steel before it bit into your throat. 

You didn’t look away. “There might be a day I can’t save you, you know. But feel free to keep coming until then.”

And he did. And he had. And here Alhaitham is again, at the mercy of your rudimentary medical skills. 

Alhaitham’s voice snaps you out of your musings. “You should watch your back. One of your clients is a rat.” 

“Let me guess. They’re the one who gave you that little stab wound as a present?”

“Most likely. And the mercenaries they hired to attack me wanted to know your location.”

“What?” You rise from the couch. “They attacked you because they were after me?”

“They were after both of us. They just got to me first.”

You sink back down with a sigh. “Damn. I’ll move to a different place. This location could already be compromised.”

Alhaitham calls your name. “You could stay with me.”

You don’t look at him this time; instead, you card your fingers through his hair. Staying with Alhaitham wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. You like Kaveh, and Alhaitham is still a member of the Akademiya; he would be under their protection, and so would you, by extension. It would be risky to move in, but it would also be risky to stay on your own.

But. But the knowledge that the only reason he’s injured is because he was protecting you makes something bitter choke your throat. The two of you are good business partners. You don’t want to lose the connections he affords you.

No, that isn’t true. You just don’t want to lose him.

“If someone is after both of us, then it’s too dangerous for us to be together. As soon as you’re feeling better, we need to leave.” 

You’ll need to prepare for departure, then. Burn anything incriminating, remove any trace you lived here. You stand, checking Alhaitham’s wounds once again. Everything still looks fine.

“No goodbye kiss for your patient?” he says.

“Goodbye kiss? What, are you feeling sentimental now?”

“I’m just suggesting it because it looks like you’re the one who wants to kiss me.”

You roll your eyes. “Next time you stop by, I’m not opening my door.”

But you lean down and press your lips against his. He places one hand against the back of your head to pull you closer, and you nip at his lip in annoyance. As you pull away, you rest your forehead against his for a brief moment. He’s still warm, but not dangerously so.

The two of you are strictly business partners. Sure, you don’t kiss any of your other clients like this, but Alhaitham has always been an exception to your rules. For starters, the two of you meet frequently, even if you don’t have any information to trade. You pester him to meet at restaurants so you could order a nice meal and push the bill towards him. He’s always one of the first to know where your newest hideout is, even if you don’t tell him. And, normally you only deal with information; whatever your clients end up doing with it is none of your business. But you always follow up with Alhaitham… or maybe it’s more like he never leaves you alone, sticking by your side like a pesky burr.

It had started small, whatever “it” was. A hand on your back. Resting your chin against his shoulder. And then it escalated, so naturally you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to. His hand on yours. Your lips against his. A night where he didn’t go home, and stayed by your side until the morning. And then more nights like that, to the point you might start fearing an empty bed.

Alhaitham is dangerous, in more ways than one. 

With another quick kiss against his lips, you rise. “All right, Scribe, get some rest. You’ll need it.”

He doesn’t say goodbye, but you don’t expect one. There are never any farewells between the two of you, only the unspoken promise to survive, and see each other again.

[findafight]

Not me writing a prologue for a fic I'll maybe never write about Steve being on the Dream Team lmao. I saw a pro basketball player Steve post a while ago and couldn't stop thinking about it. Anyways-

At the end of March Madness in 1989, the scout for the Pacers has lunch with the head coach of a community college basketball team that somehow made it to the first round before being pulverized. They sit across from each other, the coach seemingly a bit overwhelmed but not outright surprised. That's good, it means Jerry, the scout, doesn't have to worry about him freaking out or babbling too much.

The team captain had caught his, and possibly others', eye. Good layups, a few three pointers, solid defence, and a helluva lot of potential add up to someone to keep an eye on, except they can't because the guy plays for a rinky-dink community college and only had one televised game. The only reason Jerry saw the kid is because the Roane County Community College Ospreys had put in a hell of a fight the past three seasons. Jerry wonders why the hell the kid hadn't been offered a scholarship somewhere...not Roane County. Doesn't matter though, because they're here now.

"so. You wanted to talk about Steve?" Says the coach, August Nearaly, a bit weary.

Jerry nods, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. Wanted to get a sense of him before I actually talked to him."

August sighs. "As a player or as a person?"

Raising his eyebrows. "Is he that different off the court?"

"no! No, not like how you probably think. Harrington's a sweet kid, but also incredibly...well, not weird, but. Peculiar? He's got quirks. Bit paranoid, but not in a conspiracy way. In a 'no one should walk home alone in the dark' or 'hey, where'd John go? He was right here and then I did a headcount and he's not?' kinda way. Y'know? Like, they're all adults, but he does headcounts and worries anyways."

"huh. Oookay?"

"it-- I'm not saying this to rag on him, to be clear. It just too a while to get used to. Honestly, it's been good for team building. Makes them think of each other not as individuals, but part of a unit that needs everyone healthy and whole to work."

"that's good. He's a team player."

"oh yeah. It's not surprising, really. He's from Hawkins." August says the name like Jerry should know what that means. It's a town, sure, but other than that... Jerry's at a loss. Maybe something a few years ago about a fire? "He has most assists in Osprey history. Some of the guys joke that he's allergic to the ball."

"He's good on the court?"

"Jerry. I know you're here because you saw the March Madness game. You know he's good. He'd be even better if he could afford those fancy prescription goggles Horace Grant wears."

"seriously? Why not contacts?"

"don't make them for his prescription. You didn't see his interview? Kid's got thick horn rimmed glasses. Too many concussions apparently. God knows how he tells players apart when the jersey colours are similar."

"shit. That's why he was squinting the whole time? I thought he was just stressed."

He shrugged. "eh. Probably a bit of both. He takes it seriously, but not too seriously. Y'know? Half the guys were shitting themselves from nerves and Harrington stands up in the locker room, hands on his hips, and gives a speech worthy of the most melodramatic underdog sports movie."

Jerry laughs. "No shit."

Waving his hands, August nods. "no shit! He says all this stuff like 'we worked hard...we deserve this...we may not win but let's do our damn best. The worst that could happen is we lose, and that isn't the end of the world. So let's go out there and play some basketball!' or something, his was better, and the boys cheer. Then they put in fifty points to one-thirty."

Jerry winces. "Must have hurt, huh?"

August grins. "No way. One of the best games they ever played. You saw it. You wouldn't be here if you hadn't. They played their goddamn hearts out." He leans forward. "My boys don't have the same facilities as the big universities, or the funding to offer scholarships. They're at Roane Community because they want a degree or certificate but have other responsibilities. Parents or siblings to stay close to, jobs to work, people to take care of. They joined my team because they like playing basketball, loved the game and wanted to spend some of their precious time playing it. They put the work in on the court and off it. And we made it to the NCAA tournament because of it. We put in fifty points against the goddamn Michigan Wolverines! The champs! And they knew that. I've never heard of a locker room after an 80 point defeat so happy."

"seriously?"

It's all pride when Coach Nearaly says "yep. They may not be the best basketball players in college, but my god, they're probably the best team."

"because of Harrington?"

"partly. They all contribute, make sure they do things right. It's not a one man show, that's the point. They rally around him, but they all are part of the team, and know it. That's what Steve makes sure. Why I made him captain."

"So, you think he'd be a good pick for the Pacers?" This is, after all, a business meeting.

August nods, picks at his pancakes. "I'll be honest with you Jerry. You're not the first scout to talk to me about Steve."

"really? Who?"

"you know I won't say. But, between me and you, Steve's Indiana born and bred. His wife's planning on getting some lib Arts degree in Chicago or Indy, and your offer might be the deciding factor for them."

Jerry blinks. "He's married? At, what? Twenty-one?"

August nods. "Just turned twenty-two. High school sweethearts or something. Obsessed with each other." He chuckled, a bit ruefully. "I'm a bit jaded but damn. You mention her name? He lights up like the fuckin Fourth of July."

Jerry whistles. "Honeymoon phase gets us all."

"for almost two years? Nah. It's just love." It sounds a little wistful, coming from August. "Anyways. I dunno if the other team is serious about him, and if they are, they'll probably be disappointed. Kid isn't moving out of the Midwest. He's got family here, and is getting a goddamn elementary education degree. He won't uproot his life for a chance at the NBA. But, if you offer. Well. He'd at least seriously consider it."

Humming, Jerry chews his eggs as he thinks. "You think he'd be up for the lifestyle? The road games out numbering home ones?"

There's an air of seriousness when August levels Jerry with a look. "If he doesn't want to, he'll tell you. You gotta give him time to talk to his family though. This offer? It'll come out of left field for him, even if I give him a heads up. You get that, yeah? You want to recruit a kindergarten teacher to the NBA without any build up. He needs time to process that and then see where the people in his life are at with it."

"I guess it is unusual."

"try being the community college basketball coach getting two goddamn calls from NBA scouts. Thought I was hallucinating."

Jerry laughs, counts some bills for the tip. "Thank you. For your time and insights. Let Steve know I'll call tomorrow?"

"will do. He'll still probably drob the phone on you, though."

"as long as he doesn't hang up!"

[vagabond-umlaut]

HIIII KIT <333333 you said you were okay w selfship asks so!!!!! here i am :33

first of all >:3 i’m a sucker for the falls first/falls harder dynamic, so!!! in your selfships, who fell first and who fell harder?? 🎤🎤 or did you both fall at the same time??? i need to knowwww!!! 

anddddd i also . love & adore….. sun/moon pairings……… 👉👈 so i’d love to know where your selfships fall on that scale too!!! :3 i get sun vibes from you but i could see moon too…. super curious to hear abt this one hehe

anyway!!!! ily kit <3333 i hope sukugo r treating you nicely!!!!! feral cat men smh…

AAAHHH ARIIi, TYTYTY FOR SENDING ME THESE QUESTIONS! I SERIOUSLY LOVE ANSWERING ASKS ON MY SELFSHIPS SM— i'm hugging u so very tightly rn *mwah mwah mwah* @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

who fell first? who fell harder?

kitoru

honestly speaking, the lore of my ship w satoru changes w the seasons 🤭🤭 but acc to the information i hv as of summer 2024, i'm the one who fell first. and 'toru is the one who fell harder. i fell for him a very long time ago— back when i was in my mid teens and he was in his early twenties. but nothing romantic happened then– wtv hints i gave him either went over his head or he intentionally side-stepped them. and i js stopped giving him hints after one or two failed attempts, js staying happy with staring at him from afar, or yk, relishing wtv moments i used to get him as being one of his acquaintances... [he used to see me as a 'friend'. i nvr thought he cld see me as a 'friend', haha] but yk, when we grew up, i crossed quite some distance into my twenties and he too entered his late twenties— this is when the tectonic plates of our relationship slowly started shifting. i cld feel it, but i did not want to hope once again js to get heart-broken a second time— satoru, however, felt the shift like an earthquake. it's like, one moment he was thinking of me like he wld think of a friend, but then smthng happened, and he was like, "oh. this isn't how i think of shoko or nanami. oh. oh."— and well, let's js say, satoru was not rly in the mood for dating... he was more like, "omggg, ily! i'll take care of u! i'll make sure u hv a happy life! why don't we get married engaged, hm?" [i love my men a bit yandere 😂]

kitkuna

i think, mr. darcy's words fit sukuna and my dynamics the best 😄— “i was in the middle before i knew that i had begun.” we did not hv a very normal start to our relationship. sukuna js abducted me from my family and made me his queen. and i js became his queen and began to live in his temple or palace or fort or wtv. and yeah, we js started living together the way two ppl married as if for tax benefits start living together under the same roof. tht is it... except, tht doesn't stay tht is it for long. usually, i wld be content w some yummy food, interesting books, and nice comfy clothes— but over time, i began to notice i was feeling stuff other than js content. over time, this heavy feeling inside my chest began to grow lighter and i began to feel freer— and i realised, it was because of this freedom i was experiencing here. smthng i nvr got to experience when i was w my family— that place was rly good, yeah. i was treated rly well. but i felt more like ' a bird inside a golden cage' there. this observation changed my perception of sukuna from a housemate to smthng more amiable, perhaps smthng more affectionate, and i tried to get closer to him, inch by inch— actually millimetre by millimetre, 'cause i love to test the waters 1st then dip my toe into it— and then one fine day, when i wake up from an afternoon nap and i find sukuna sitting at the table, totally immersed in scrolls of poetry... an odd thing happens in my chest— which occurs again at dinner a few nights later... when i notice him eating as messily as ever— smthng which repeats when i catch him napping one day, akin a big cat lounging in the shade— a phenomenon which starts to happen multiple times a day very very soon... needless to say, i quickly diagnose it as a case of falling in love w my hubby 😌😌 as for sukuna... i don't rly think he feels love... he kidnapped me 'cause he was lwk intrigued by me. [idk why] he married me 'cause he grew highkey intrigued by me. [i still hv no idea why 😭😭] and he gave me space, never tried to be bad or scary to me 'cause he gave me some amt of respect as his wife, his queen [i nvr went to his court tho. i preferred drinking fruit juice and reading a good book in the shade of a tree] [were u able to guess i'm lazyyy] but then, one day, few weeks after i was able to extricate myself from my jumbled emotions and reach a definitive diagnosis— i found him snoozing under the same tree i take rest under, w a very amateurish book titled 'how do you know you are in love'— and i actually got rooted to the spot. and sukuna, heaven knows how, woke up while i was busy gaping at him. and he made an embarrassed face and dashed away— uraume later confirmed, their lord was feeling an odd thing in their chest; esp the last few weeks— roughly the same time as when i first encountered my symptom. later tht night, when i started subtly teasing him, calling us soulmates, he js put a blanket over my head to shut me up, but did not kill me— guess he loves me, huh 🤭🤭

who is the sun? who is the moon?

be it kitoru or kitkuna, i think i'm the moon, babes 😇😇 tho not a full moon. i'm more of a waxing crescent, methinks... 'cause i feel like i'm bright, but not bright enuf to light someone's path thru a forest at night... i js hv the potential, heh [i'm defo not the sun, babes 😅😅 i can be a lil grumpy and mean tbh, hahaha] satoru and sukuna, on the other hand... i think they are the sun in our dynamics. they can be both the comforting sun of chilly winter mornings, when i need them to be here for me, to hug me, to kiss me, to love me— and the scorching sun of a summer noon, ready to burn anyhting and everything which dares to bother me... [i love satoru and sukuna being a little crazy in their love for me 🥰🥰]

they're treating me pretty well so far, babes 🥰🥰🥰 and fr fr— feral cat men make me go insaneeee 😂😂😂

now i too wanna know ur answers to these same asks for ur selfships, my loveee 🤗🤗🤗 [no pressure tho!! only if u wanna ❤️❤️]

[good-beanswrites]

My translyrics for Salamander, written out under the cut :D

This one was much more difficult than the last, but I'm still very satisfied with it! 😤 I'm both sad that my version lost a lot of the fun soundplay of the original, and also waaay more impressed with the lyrics and vocals after digging it like this! I tried to keep it balanced between the original and Fuuta's version, though maybe it ended up leaning more toward the cover, idk. Leaving my specific notes in the tags 👍

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I want a taste, but all this spice may prove more than I can take, (eh?)

Something's on your mind. So spit it out and tell me, don't waste my time, kay?

I'm hooked on this, pass me a dish.

The way I'm starving here without you -- it's a crime

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want a bite, I can't help giving in to this new appetite.

Again, again, I want to be on fire when I get to the end.

We live too fast, we burn to ash,

I never handled spices well and it's a crime.

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

I want to burn bright red

I want to burn bright red

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

Tell me I'm not alone in my mind!

Salamander~ Look what's happened to me. This pa- passion's crazy

Tell me I'm not delirious, I'm being serious.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want to leave I want to go, but I can never stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

[amiharana]

17‼

(ask game from here)

damn shawty calm down why you yelling at me! (jk but the text is huge on my screen and it's funny kJDKFJD)

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

i'll talk a little bit about the fic i had planned for revalink week d1 >:] it's a prince revali x prince link au because i love royalty aus yahooo

i'm still deciding whether or not revali is going to be human/hylian and whether or not the rito people should still retain avian features or have their livelihoods and economy dependent on aviary travel and innovation, e.g. the rito people deal in the creation and distribution of paragliders, parachutes, air balloons, primitive airplanes, etc. not that i'll go in depth but i was thinking about it !

because of that, there will be a couple bird puns and shit LOL

revali's late mother the queen is named ceruli and i took her name from the species of bird, cerulean warbler

revali is the only child of the hebra royal family, because his father (kaneli) never remarried after ceruli died and thus revali has no siblings. he'd actually be a great big brother if he had any though :)

revali learned archery from his late mother, who was one of the greatest archers who ever lived. :) it's his fondest memories of before she passed, and he trains as frequently as he can, in hopes that he can one day be on par with her skill and honor her memory

link & zelda are fraternal twins and their mother also died when they were young so link n revali are on the same wavelength

zelda is older than link because she was born first, but she's the more natural born leader between her and link, who likes to take naps in the castle gardens or bake in the kitchens with the staff or something, which is why she's the heir to the throne of hyrule lol

thinking about having zelda meet mipha in the background, who has ceded her right to the throne to sidon, hence why he's also at the ball, attempting to court link because the ball is for zelda and link to find suitors

kaneli has one-sided beef with rhoam for marrying his children off for political gain because the rito people in the hebra kingdom have a strong belief in marrying for true love over status, etc.

he would have gone to the ball out of courtesy as royalty and maintain camaraderie or whatever, but knowing rhoam's ulterior motives and having a strong moral code as a rito, kaneli is now attending with spite and a plan masked under his warm and grandfatherly facade

so finally, here's an excerpt from when i was just braindumping about how i want the fic to go because i don't think it's going to make it into the fic and i liked that last sentence teehee:

"kaneli decides to kill two birds with one stone; bring revali to the hyrule birthday ball to meet prince link and have them fall in love. (1) to satisfy both revali’s wishes for strong political ties to the advantageous kingdom of hyrule and to marry for love and (2) save link from a loveless political marriage. kaneli hopes it might even kill a third bird: softening revali’s bristly personality with link’s sweetness."

[sickgraymeat]

marceline accidentally jumpscares her gf by wanting to eat mars

(prompt from @opalescent-sun for "stargazing with a telescope" thank you!!!!)

[kaseyskat]

hmmm. 22 or 24 for lovesong? if ur still doing these no rush or pressure tho :-)<33

(#22- a kiss in a rush of adrenaline- #24 a kiss in danger)

(for context: because i don't want this one to sound too similar to the other lovesong prompt, i ammmm going to set this in RWBY au! i'll explain some terms in the notes for yall so nobody is too lost :) my apologies)

~~

It isn't often that team TGLNS gets separated for missions. After all, the whole point of being teamed up is that they learn how to work as a team, and yet...

... well, they were told this situation required delicacy. They were split three-ways in the cover of the night: Lark would go on his own, completely cloaked by his semblance, while Grant and Terry covered them from behind, leaving Nick and Sparrow to pair up and secure the base they were sent to protect.

Fighting at night is always harder. Already, Grimm lurk in the shadows, and it is only the faint way Sparrow is glowing that wards them off for the time being- Nick is fairly positive that if she weren't using her semblance, they would've already been attacked.

Sparrow is quiet for once, though her hand trembles in Nick's own as they walk through the forest path towards the base. Her semblance - her own personal superpower, the way she can turn herself into light - certainly comes in handy to make her the world's prettiest night light, but it's a little unnerving to see the way she trembles ever so slightly in the dark.

"Hey," Nick whispers, squeezing her hand. "What's up?"

"I wish Lark were here," Sparrow admits, and she shivers as the breeze catches them both, ruffling her hair and his jacket sleeves in one gentle wave. "I'm worried about him."

"Your brother is gonna be fine, he's a total badass." Nick reassures, and he resists the urge to throw his arm around her, to hold her the way he's been longing for weeks now. "And he's entrusted your safety to me, so give him that same faith, huh?"

"I could kick ass without you," Sparrow retorts, but the silly quip works; she's not shaking so much, and her light is a little steadier as they approach the base.

Crazy that this is the base that criminals use. Nick swallows thickly as they stare at the door, the sounds of Grimm getting closer faint but not far off. "Your grandfather could be here," he murmurs, the words getting stuck in his throat. "Are you... okay with that?"

"My grandfather is a piece of shit who wants to make the world harder for everyone except himself," Sparrow scoffs, and she drops Nick's hand to summon her gauntlet, her form getting a little brighter. "I hope we run into him, so I can kick his ass properly."

Grimm are on their tail now, no longer warded off by Sparrow's semblance, and even though Nick is sure that Grant has their back from the trees and Terry is ready to spring to action if they need him, he can't help but vibrate with adrenaline- brothers above, he loves the thrill of a good fight, especially when he's in such good company. "Looks like the Grimm might get to us first," he warns, even as he summons his spear, his own semblance thrumming underneath his skin, waiting to be used. "Seems we won't get into this place without a fight regardless."

"Let's hope Lark's beaten us there, then," Sparrow says, and she clenches her gauntlet into her chest, spinning on her heels to face Nick. There is something dark in her eyes, even as her glow gets even more intense. "Ready for Operation Flash-Bang?"

"We were born ready," Nick grins.

Before he can use his semblance though, Sparrow does something completely unexpected: she leans up on her toes and draws Nick into a kiss. It isn't the first time they've kissed, but the way that Nick's heart is already beating rapidly from the oncoming fight coupled with how Sparrow's non-gauntlet-ed fist comes to tangle in his hair has him heady, faint.

"For good luck," Sparrow whispers while still against his lips, her breath warm and sending shivers down Nick's spine. "Let's kick some ass, shall we?"

"If you kiss me before every battle, I'll have to fight more often," Nick whispers right back, and he can't resist the urge to lean back in for one last quick kiss, lingering in her taste, her scent.

"Don't get too cocky," Sparrow teases when he straightens back up, but her cheeks are flushed, the light of her semblance doing little to hide it. "Now come on: it'll be embarrassing if Grant takes out more Grimm than we do from the trees."

"Pretty sure that's his job," Nick points out, but as Sparrow leaps into danger, gauntlet held in front of her and glowing brighter than ever, it's all he can do to follow her lead and activate his own semblance, his spear splitting in half as his form splits in two.

It's still a long shot, three against... however many Grimm face them in the woods, not to mention the White Fang rebels they might find in the base. But as long as they're together... Nick has no doubts that they'll be victorious.

[todayisafridaynight]

i think itd be so funny silly if aoki bailed daigo out of jail one (1) time just to flex the fact he could yk

[solar-halos]

POV – something that’s already happened, retold from another character’s perspective

no (writing) excuses askbox game

first of all, thank you for this ask! <3 it was so fun esp since ive been playing around with this scene for a whileee

second of all, i got carried away! in my odesta longfic annie isn’t very happy about finnick wanting to be on the star squad so i chose to write the scene where he breaks the news to her in his pov. fair warning though this is so majorly long and at first i was only gonna include the last section but then i remembered nothing is ever that serious so here's like 3k words of angst + slight sprinkling of fluff at the beginning

with that being said, i feel like this one warrants some warnings: there's referenced non-con (for annie's capitol imprisonment specifically), hurt NO comfort (yet! there’s comfort in the longfic), and annie just overall isn't very fucking nice to finnick. so without further ado here it is under the cut

🤍 DO NOT DISTURB, PLEASE! 🤍

Finnick helps her tack the handmade sign up on their door. Since their fingers are laced together (they never intend on letting go, either), it takes a bit longer than expected. 

Finnick glances down at Annie, who is practically squirming out of her skin in excitement. The strap of her wedding dress falls down one shoulder. Her frizzy curls fluff up around her head like a wreath. 

“You’re so pretty, Annie.” He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear because he knows that’ll make her lean against his palm. He takes a moment to admire her, so kind and genuine and wonderful. Love and being loved by her feels surreal. Like the odds really are in his favor. 

Her eyes light up. He smiles.

“You’re pretty,” she insists, her hand inching toward his shoulder. He slouches a bit so she has an easier time hooking her arm around him in a hug. 

He takes this opportunity to sweep her off her feet, carrying her back inside. He’s rewarded with a giggle and a kiss on the cheek. 

“I love you,” says, sighing against his chest. Warmth courses through his veins. “We are so forever.”

And they call Finnick a poet. He ducks down to press a kiss to her hair.

Annie is love. Annie is life. Annie is forever. Permanent. 

“You and me,” Finnick agrees. “Forever.”

They seal the promise with another kiss.

———————

Finnick’s concentration problems are catching up to him. Maybe they never left him alone in the first place.

He’d been training in 13 ever since he managed to shed off that hospital gown, but they weren’t teaching him anything groundbreaking. So, when President Coin tells him that she’ll send him straight to the Capitol if he manages to pass a series of tests, it’s an offer he can’t refuse. 

It’s not like he’s being cocky about it. He knows what he’s getting into. In the arena, there was always one guaranteed survivor. If he goes out on the battlefield—if he finally takes down President Snow—there’s a very real possibility that none of them will come out alive. 

That won’t be a problem for him. Again, he’s not being cocky. He just knows his strengths. He’s already familiar with hand-to-hand combat—real hand-to-hand combat, the stuff that people in District 13 can’t really train for—and that’ll make him a real big asset to the team.

Anyway. What was he saying?

Oh, right. Concentration problems. Training, too.

He remembers that he has to wake up early the next morning, and he remembers which room he has to report to. He even remembers to set his alarm clock for the right time. But then Annie comes back from her therapy session, and he’s enveloping her in a hug, and suddenly it’s like he’s only capable of conjuring up Annie-related thoughts.

She falls asleep in his arms. He wakes up to the sound of her cussing out his loud fucking alarm clock. He takes a moment to admire her fiery, effortless passion, ‘cause she’ll curse at just about anything if it’s early enough. 

“Sorry, my love.” He kisses her cheek to pacify her. She melts back into the bed. “I have to train today.”

“No, you don’t,” she says, which is mildly confusing, but then it hits him:

He forgot. He forgot to tell her. Something heavy settles over his stomach as he rushes through his explanation, but he already knows she’s not happy with him. It’s written all over the crinkle in her brow, the frown on her face, the small crinkles over her nose.

“Stay with me for a few minutes,” she says, so he does. Of course he does. He’d light himself on fire to keep Annie warm. (She does not ask him to set himself on fire.)

A few minutes turns into half an hour. Finnick is starting to get antsy, because if he misses this first training session, then they might just drop him from the program, and then he’ll never get to Snow, and—

“Finnick.” Annie’s voice is hard. Unhappy. His stomach twists. “Are you training today, or not?”

“I have to, my love.”

My love. My love. My love. She’s his love, so he doesn’t ever want to make her unhappy, but he’s not doing a very good job. She huffs at him.

“No, you don’t. The whole point of District 13 is that we don’t have to do anything. If you want to train, just tell me that.”

Yeah, Finnick couldn’t just tell her that. She’s already so upset with him, so he should just stay put and wrap her up in his arms, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to, either, but don’t you dare fucking tell her that, because the only reason he wants to go at all is so that he can take down President Snow. Then, they’d be free to do whatever they want whenever they want. A moment of torture away from her is worth a lifetime of happiness in her presence.

Annie understands that. She understands that they need to take down Snow, and she wants to take down Snow, but she also hates the military industrial complex. And Finnick would hate it, too, under normal circumstances, but how else was he gonna fight for his freedom? The Capitol took a lot from him, but he couldn’t wait to show them just how proficient he was at turning the odds in his favor. In the country’s favor.

Annie is glaring at him. He decides to stand his ground.

“I want to train.”

She blinks at him. Wrong answer. He tries to backtrack, but the damage has already been done. 

“I’m going to visit Johanna today.” Then, before he can ask, she adds, “Alone. You can do whatever you want.”

The pit in his stomach is overwhelming. He never planned on attending every single session—just the ones he needed to. Like the ones about assembling a gun (the arena never had anything like that). He also shows up to schedule a time for his exam.

“I’m a bit nervous,” he tells Annie. She glances over at him before promptly returning to whatever she was drawing, almost like she’s making a point to ignore him.

Almost. He and Annie don’t ice each other out. It’s not their thing.

“Annie?” he repeats. He knows that she was upset with him for leaving, but they already talked it out, and she already said she forgave him. If they're not okay, then he understands, but he just wants to be on the same page. It'll make trying to fix things much easier. “Are we good?”

Sometimes, Annie ignores him when she’s working on a drawing, but it’s nothing personal. She ignores everything—even her own appetite—but she usually multitasks whenever she doodles. 

She looks at him. Finnick lets out a breath. “Do you want to play a card game?”

He thinks about repeating himself—he’s nervous, and he wants to know if they’re good—but he doesn’t want to risk upsetting her again. It’s not her fault that he’s putting his life at risk.

“Okay,” he says. She grins at him. He forces himself to grin back.

——————

“We need to talk about it,” he says, because they do.

She knows exactly what he’s referring to. It’s why she doesn’t answer him.

“Annie.” He sits right beside her. “I meant what I said. I’m not leaving you. The mission is still in the planning stages. We don’t even know which route we’re gonna take.”

She’s locked in on another drawing. He sighs. He can feel himself getting frustrated—he’s not leaving her, because he’s incapable of living without her—but getting snappish isn’t going to fix anything. Especially not with Annie. Her parents fought a lot, so he doesn’t want to risk setting her off. She’d never treat him that way—would never scream or throw anything at him—but she’s naturally very expressive, and that doesn’t bode very well for any of them when she gets angry.

She stares at him. He knows what she’s gonna say before she even opens her mouth. 

“Wanna play a card game?”

“Annie.”

“What?” she’s not yelling, exactly, but she’s being firm. Too firm, considering that all he wants to do is talk to her about something important. “Dr. Aurelius taught me how to play. It’s fun.”

“Can we talk about the mission?”

She makes a move to get up. He relents, even though he really, really shouldn’t, but he can’t stand the possibility of sleeping in separate beds tonight. 

“Never mind,” he says, placing a slow, gentle hand at her hip. He’s testing the waters. She dives straight into his arms. Thank goodness. “What’s the card game?”

“It’s a bit tricky at first,” she replies, reaching over to shuffle the deck. "But you're good at stuff like this. I think you’ll really like it, ‘cause there’s so much strategy in it.” 

Conversations about the mission were easy to avoid when they were still in the early stages of planning. The last time Finnick brought it up, Plutarch and Coin were still negotiating if they needed to add another member, but it’s an inescapable part of his life now. He gets the stamp, attends all the meetings, and introduces himself to everyone else on the team. They’re even calling themselves the Star Squad. 

They examine the holo splayed over the table, where everyone squints at a battlefield riddled with mutts and traps. It hits a little too close to home.

His gut twists. What’s he gonna tell Annie?

“Nothing,” Katniss answers, because apparently Finnick said that out loud. “That’s what my mother and sister will be hearing from me.”

Fair, but Annie isn’t his mom. Or his sister. She already forgave him for not telling her anything about the rebels, and he promised to tell her everything that he knows from now on, so he had to tell her about this. He had to, or else he’d make everything worse.

His mind is in overdrive throughout the entire meeting. Words usually came to him so easily, but things are different with Annie. He doesn’t love anyone or anything nearly as much as he loves her.

He decides to just play it by ear. The meeting already ran long, so he doesn’t want to keep her waiting. 

He steps inside their compartment. She was pacing around the room, but she stops dead in her tracks the moment he closes the door. She wrinkles her nose at him.

“I’m sorry.” He is. He’s sorry about a lot of things, actually, but maybe if they talk about it for a bit, everything will be okay. Annie loves him, so that’s already a huge source of comfort. “I’m sorry, Annie. The meeting ran long.”

He can’t tell if she’s giving him the silent treatment again—because that’s apparently something they do now—or if she’s just thinking of a response.

She frowns at him, obviously very unhappy, but they don’t have another choice. They don’t have time. If it took them this long to breach the subject, then that already means they’re in trouble.

“I don’t even care,” she lies, but Annie’s emotions have always been stamped so clearly across her face. And, right now, her face tells him that she cares a lot. “Let’s just go to bed.”

They can’t. They can’t. They can’t. He stands his ground, and she relents. He takes that as a good sign.

“District 13 is organizing a mission where we finally infiltrate the Capitol. And they’ve invited me to go.”

“Well, you’re not.”

It sounds final, they way she’s saying it. Finnick forces himself not to give in. He had to do this. He had to get to Snow. 

He stands his ground until she snaps at him. His heartbeat spikes.

“You goddamn fucking liar! You said you wouldn’t leave me again!”

He’s not. He never could, and he tries to explain that to her, but his mind goes absolutely blank. She’s never called him a liar before, but he supposes that’s the truth, isn’t it? He didn’t tell her about 13, but the Capitol captured her anyway, so she’s well within her rights to get upset with him. He just wishes she wouldn’t yell.

“You promised me you’d stay, but now you’re suddenly infiltrating the fucking Capitol?” she demands, which doesn’t sound right. “Did you make that decision before or after they locked me up?”

No. No, that doesn’t sound right at all, because that’s not what happened. He made that decision a long time ago, but whenever he’d try to tell her, she’d pretend that he wasn’t even talking to her. That hurt, but he didn’t address that concern with her—he’s not even addressing it with her now—because he knows that this must be hurting her harder.

Finnick can be cocky—even now, especially now—but he’s well aware of the risks. Nothing is ever guaranteed, and 13 is no exception. But if they both agree that they need to take Snow down, and if they both agree that Finnick dealt with the brunt of all his cruelty, then why aren’t they reaching the same conclusion? 

“So sorry, then, Finnick, that I’m not as important as your stupid fucking trident.” She’s angry with him. Finnick wracks his brain, trying to think of ways to coax her into liking him again, but nothing makes sense to him right now. Annie’s never yelled at him like that before, ever. “I bet the Capitol is gonna love seeing you with one again.”

“Don’t say that to me.” The implications of that don’t hurt. Finnick had thought a lot about that, too. The last time he had been so eager to prove himself to anyone was when he was enrolled at the Academy, desperate to show off his expertise at all the different stations. 

But this is different, both literally and fundamentally. And he knows that Annie knows that, so he doesn’t really appreciate being branded as a Capitol puppet.

“But it’s true,” she says, even though they both know it’s not, and Finnick doesn’t understand why she’s doing this to him.

He’s not an idiot. He knows that she’s worried about him leaving, just like how Mags left them, but he doesn’t like how she’s framing this like it’s a choice he’s making. Like he’s walking away from her. Like he’s engaging in something inconsequential for the sole purpose of hurting her. Like he doesn’t love her, when that’s the only thing in his life that he’s ever been sure of. 

Finnick doesn’t want to hurt her, but he understands that his intentions don’t match up with reality. He understands that she has the right to be angry with him. He understands that she’s upset about how secretive he was about the rebel plan, because their relationship was supposed to be built on a foundation of trust, so—

“Is that why I got captured, then?” she asks him, and she’s right, but she’s also not. The Capitol would have captured her no matter what, but he could have done more. He could have pushed Plutarch harder about rescuing her from Four. He could have encouraged 13 to execute their rescue plan a lot sooner. He could have neglected the rebellion entirely, because at least he’d know that Annie would be safe.

Finnick should have just done that. He got all in his head about how he wanted to be safe, too, but it’s not worth it to have Annie yelling at him right now. 

Moldy food. Capitol cells. Rape.

If it was hard to articulate his thoughts before, there’s no hope for him right now. He always knew what they were doing to Annie, even before she told him herself, but now that she’s not holding back—rape rape rape rape rape, just like how they raped you—he’s trying his best to just remain coherent. His memories in the Capitol were always so hard to suppress, but the thought of the same thing happening to her makes his body revolt against his mind.

Annie is always so sweet to him. Always used to remind him that nothing that happened in the arena or in the Capitol was ever his fault. But if she’s saying all this now—rape and pills and you let Mags die I stayed with you throughout everything never even thought about leaving you most miserable bitch I’ve ever met just fuck off and die already—

Fuck off and die? Isn’t that why they’re having an argument in the first place?

Finnick doesn’t know. There’s not enough oxygen circulating to his brain, and his heart is beating too hard to overcompensate for that, but it’s not like he can feel sorry for himself when Annie was in Capitol cells and Peacekeeper clutches and beatings and rape and all you did was sit here and wait for it all to be over, you fucking asshole.

“Stop pretending like you’ve ever cared about me!”

It’s the last thing he can remember her saying before they’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Maybe it’s someone complaining about the noise. It wouldn’t be the first time he and Annie received that sort of complaint, even though the circumstances back then were kinda different.

The thought of being separated from Annie still makes his stomach plunge to his toes. She’s saying a lot cruel things to him, yes, but it’s not like she actually means them, and it’s not like she doesn’t have a reason to be upset, and—

She grabs a marker. They both ignore the banging on the door, staring at each other instead, because what she does with that marker is going to predict the trajectory of their relationship. Her parents threw things at each other, yes, but they’re not her parents. He can overlook the yelling, but there are some things that he won’t even forgive Annie for, and this will be one of them.

She sets the marker down. The District 13 guards let themselves in. They start walking toward Finnick at first, but maybe they can sense that reality is very blurry for him right now, because they promptly ask Annie to remove herself from the room. She goes without a fight, but if there’s one thing about Annie Cresta, it’s that she has to have the last word. 

“I don’t know why I love you,” she says. “I don’t know why anyone would love you.”

The door closes. Finnick finally gives himself permission to melt onto the floor, curling his knees into his chest. 

I don’t know why anyone would love you. That makes two of them.

[cadaverousdecay]

[edns]

"Alive..." Short drabble under the cut if you would like to read the story behind this!

“Alive! You are alive!” A silver-haired man ran towards confused Dimitri, tears in his eyes, his face distorted with grief too familiar. Was that another ghost that would haunt him? Even though Dimitri could not remember the man, something about him was so very familiar. Familiar enough for him to not attack immediately. “Halt. What do you think you’re doing?”

The other man stopped, looking confused for a brief moment. He inspected Dimitri, fixing his round glasses. “Ah… You must not have met me like this yet… Not yet.” Dimitri growled. He had no time for all this talking. This could be another imperial spy that was after his head… And yet, somehow, he felt that was not the case. Still, he picked his lance up to be ready to defend himself. “My name is- is Cyrus,” he stuttered as he raised his both hands, showing that he was defenseless. “I am not here to take your life; put down your weapon… p-please.” That stutter… It sounded warm… “It matters not if you are after my head or not. I might as well be a corpse,” Dimitri frowned, his eye locked on this Cyrus. “It only matters to me if you serve… that woman…” His gaze drifted away from Cyrus as he spoke, into nothingness, his thoughts drowned out by a haze of rage, until…

“… Dima.” Cyrus’ voice managed to cut through that haze, like a sharp sword. He looked back up only to see that Cyrus had already approached him closer with a smile, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. “No…” Dimitri’s voice cracked as he stepped away; he moved his lance towards Cyrus, threatening to attack. “I cannot let you get out of here alive…” “No need. I am- I am not leaving.”

Cyrus closed the distance between them, pulling Dimitri into a hug… So fearlessly, as if the threat of a weapon meant nothing to him. Dimitri could not help but drop his lance out of sheer shock… A loud clanking noise echoed across the cathedral as the lance hit the destroyed tile floor. Sobbing into the fur of Dimitri’s cloak, Cyrus squeezed him desperately, leaving him utterly befuddled.

“… This is indeed a first…” He muttered to himself. “For a man unknown to haunt me… and be this kind. How lonely must I be…” Cyrus said nothing to that, sniffling quietly as sunlight of the dawn washed over the cathedral.

[midoribai]

midori getting ready for the date w len and windchime !! ^ ^

"..Nn.."

"...."

"...!!" Midori jolts up from his bed. "A-Ah.. what time is i-" The clock reads about eleven AM. He's.. er.. a little late. (Can you even call an hour 'late'? They probably think he ghosted them.)

His eyes flutter open, trying to get used to the blinding iridescent light. A few fingers comb through his messy hair which is, as always, quite disheveled from sleeping. "Mnn.. I should.. probably get up." He mutters.

He stumbles into his bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. Quickly, he tries to shake off his feeling of drowsiness so he can get ready. (What would a doll even need to do to get ready in the morning? Wash his face? Tch.)

(timeskip. im lazy. he brushed his hair n stuff)

"Hmm.. should I wear this scarf? Or this one?" He rummages through his rack of the exact same scarf. (Like seriously. It's the same damn scarf. Pick one already.)

He taps his chin in thought, staring at all of the scarves he owns. Finally, he decides on one. There's literally nothing special about it. He's just a picky bitch.

And now our next problem. He stands in his closet in only a t-shirt and boxers, (the clothes he slept in) carefully studying each of his suits. They all look pretty similar.. but he probably has some kind of system. Like he can only wear some on special occasions, and some during casual events. (What is wrong with this guy?)

"Ah.. what about this one? This could work." He takes one of the suits off it's hanger, inspecting it. I.. I don't think he knows how dates work. (This isn't like the fucking presidential inauguration or something, Midori. Just pick something.)

Quickly, he slips on his suit jacket and white button up. Midori fixes his tie to look a little neater.. how pretentious of him. He smiles at himself in a nearby mirror. "I wonder if Len and Windchime would like me like this. Aha."

He's playing it cool, but on the inside.. he feels like a lovestruck little girl. It's a little lame of him, especially since this is his first ever date, but he's excited anyway.

anyway. @lenoraven come get your food u simp !!!!!

[ghostinthepepper]

Day 13: Immortal

⚠️Content warnings: Slight implied cannibalism (dust eating), and character deaths⚠️

Ink by comyet, Dream by jokublog, Error by loverofpiggies, and Underswap sans (who is only briefly mentioned) by p0pcornpr1nce

______________________________________________________________

The first time it happened, Ink had been returning to the Omega Timeline from helping a Creator who'd been having trouble deciding between two different plot points. He'd written on his scarf that he'd found a snack he'd thought Blue would love, and wanted to give it to him. "Where's Blue?" Ink started immediately, hoping to move fast enough that he wouldn't forget.

"He's gone Ink," Core Frisk had answered, trace amounts of sorrow visible on their face.

"What do you mean he's gone? Did something happen to him?"

"He was old. Nothing happened, it was just his time." Their answer had startled him. He had no idea what they were talking about, did Blue have somewhere to be?

"What exactly do you mean 'just his time'? And what exactly does being old have to do with leaving?"

"No Ink." Frisk started looking like they were about to cry, but Ink knew full well they couldn't. Had he made them sad again? "Blue is dead. He's gone."

Ink was only more confused, "Blue died?! Who hurt him?"

"No one did, Ink. He died of old age..." they finally trailed off, distracted. Ink knew he wouldn't get a further explanation from them, so he looked for Dream.

---

Dream had looked so tired back then. Ink supposed he must have been sad, too, but Dream had still taken the time to explain it to him. They'd sat there sipping at tea that quickly went cold, and Ink had come away from it with a deeper understanding of Blue and mortals in general. Or so he had thought.

When Error began to slow down in their constant battles for the fate of the AUs, Ink hadn't immediately realized why. His first assumptions were that Error had been recovering from an injury, or no longer wanted to fight. That didn't mean Ink had been willing to go easing on him. Perhaps that made it his fault, when Error had fallen ill from the strain. It was only when he'd found Error sick and dying, alone in the antivoid that he'd realized his mistake.

But Error was still the destroyer. Ink couldn't lose the opportunity to rid the multiverse of the Destroyer for good. Just as Ink was about to bring down his brush on Error's skull, he hesitated. He didn't want to do this, not really. He and Error may be enemies, but the two understood each other in ways no one else would.

Error suddenly groaned, and Ink startled back, expecting it all to have been a ruse to get back at him. When no attacks came, Ink brushed his phalanges against Error's cheek. He was burning up. The protector deliberated between leaving the Destroyer here or not, eventually landing on caring for Error in the Doodlesphere. Of course, he took plenty of precautions to make sure Error couldn't take advantage of any opportunities he might have in there, including moving the AUs and applying a barrier between them and his house.

Eventually, it was safe to bring even the Destroyer. Of course, this wasn't a prison and Error could leave when he was better, but at least he couldn't do any damage from the inside.

___

Caring for Error had been a slow process. At first it'd been easy enough. All he needed to do was keep Error alive and get the fever down, but when that was over Ink had to deal with the Destroyer's nonstop beratement and insults thrown at him while he cared for Error's every need. It was very exhausting, but after a while there Error stopped yelling at him and instead quietly watched him work.

When Error finally spoke up, it caught Ink off guard, "Why are you even helping me."

Ink didn't really have an answer to that, or perhaps he had too many. He shrugged, "Because I'm the Protector. What else am I supposed to do but protect."

Error mulled over that quietly for a while before drifting back to sleep.

---

"You really want that?"

"Why else would I suggest it if I hadn't wanted it, idiot!"

Ink hadn't hesitated at the opportunity, jotting it down on his scarf. "Okay! No protecting, and no destroying."

"And..."

"What is it, Error?" Ink's head tilted slightly.

"I'm staying here." Error blushed, before realizing his mistake and correcting himself, "Only to keep an eye socket on you, of course!"

Ink couldn't contain his joy at that. The resulting mess took a while to clean.

---

After that they started to do everything together. Not necessarily the same things, of course, but whatever they did, they did in each other's company. When Ink would cook, Error would be in the kitchen watching Undernovela through a small portal, when Ink would draw, Error would crochet (and wasn't that a surprise to the artist, that Error liked some AUs and that he could create). They even shared a bed, not that they had to sleep, but Error had discovered he'd have far more energy when he slept.

Then Error started to slow down more and more. At first Ink thought he was sick again, but the glitch just rolled his eyes and insisted he was just a bit tired.

One night they went to sleep together. But when Ink woke up, the bed was no longer warm. Ink's presumption was that Error had gotten up early (a rarity those days), but when he rolled to get up, he'd found himself in a pile of dust.

Ink felt so cold, he wanted to deny the reality in front of him, but he knew from the trace of Error's magic in the dust whose it was.

--

The of bittersweet taste dust and sugar mixed together on his tongue. Ink knew he should probably be ashamed for what he had done, but he had wanted to keep Error with him. Still he knew it was selfish to keep Error entirely to himself, and so scattered parts of him in Outertale and Undernovela.

Ink needed to talk to Dream about what had happened. He was lost, and Dream had always been willing to help him work through his emotions, even after their friendship had ended.

When he arrived back in the Omega Timeline, the first thing he did was track down Dream.

---

Dream looked tired, so tired, hadn't moved much from his chair. Ink finally recognized the tiredness for what it was this time: age. "Don't leave me, not you too..."

Dream's sad smile didn't brought no reassurances.

---

Ink was alone. He understood now, what mortality was. He also knew it was something he lacked. He'd never once felt slowed down by anything, and now he knew he never would. Ink stayed isolated, not in the Doodlesphere (too many memories of Error) nor in the Omega Timeline (too many memories of Blue and Dream), he instead just went with the flow, staying away from forming more attachments knowing full well how much it would hurt him again.

___

"D-Dream?"

"How do you know my name mister?" The young guardian cocked his head slightly to the side.

"Dream, you're here!" Ink felt for the first time in a long time what felt like hope.

(Words: 1197)

[breezypunk]

Heeey!! Gimme an 18 for that cool OTP writing prompt!♥️♥️

Thank you! <3

Soft otp prompts here

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────

18- Write about how each member of your ship smells. 

Two weeks Vaughn had been gone out on the road. When the Aldecaldos asked him to join them on a little adventure to Arizona, Vaughn couldn't pass up an opportunity to get out of NC and enjoy the change in scenery. Goro however stayed back to take care of their little apartment, and their cat, Loki. He sent Vaughn off knowing he'd be in good hands, knowing that having a change in environment would be good for his health in many ways. Goro couldn't help but miss him entirely however, and was excited knowing Vaughn was due home at any minute.

"Hello, son.. Do you think he will mind this?" Goro kissed the top of Loki's head and he started setting out the spicy ramen he had made for Vaughn and himself when he reached home. He was just hoping Vaughn would be in a good mood.

Ten minutes had passed, when Goro had finally heard a familiar voice coming out of the elevator door. "Knock, knock." Vaughn stood in the living room looking as rough as ever. You could tell he had been outdoors for a while, his skin was tanner than usual, and he looked like he hadn't showered in days, but he looked good. Goro took him in for a moment as he slowly stepped from out of the kitchen and into the living room where Vaughn stood still, watching Goro watching him.

His dark blue shirt hugged his frame tightly, and was covered in dirt, and his jeans were ripped, he had been doing dirty work out there in Arizona, and Goro couldn't have been drawn to him.

"Are you.. okay? I missed you too you know." Vaughn chuckled.

Goro finally reached him, and placed his hands on his shoulders. There it was.. that familiar scent. It was one of Goro's absolute favorites, and it drove Vaughn crazy as to how Goro could possibly think he smelt good after being outside for so long.

"I haven't showered in two days." Vaughn rolled his eyes but couldn't help but smile and Goro buried his face into Vaughn's neck. "I smell like sweat and blood."

"You smell like nature. I love it.." Goro's voice was muffled, Vaughn could barely make out what he was saying.

"And you smell like cat food, and.. ramen?" Vaughn looked around, sniffing the air until he spotted the ramen on the counter. He was starving, but Goro refused to let him go.

"I should let you wander the outdoors more often, V."

"You'd get the full effect if you came with me." Vaughn played along with Goro's weird fascination with how he smelled, but at least he wasn't repulsed. Vaughn often smelled of rain water and fresh grass, and it pleasured Goro greatly.

"Now you tempt me.." Goro finally eased up, looking at Vaughn up and down and moving a sticky strand of hair from his eyes. he was glorious dirty and clean, a true aphrodisiac.

[strawberry-cowmilk]

I'm inactive on every platform and that's because winter is absolutely destroying me