#how long is a snippet

[lovecraftiancicada]

Edit: THIS IS THE FIC THAT MADE ME THINK HE WAS AN OLD MAN 😭 (there's implied nsfw, but it's mostly comedy!)

[demaparbat-hp]

Oh, Lala...

[steviewashere]

To go along with my last line tag game post, here's a little snippet of something I'm working on (I say little but it's roughly 500 words, jeez):

————— Steve has roughly five seconds, the same five seconds it takes to turn and look over his shoulder, before Eddie—in all his scraggly, limb-flailing, wallet-chain-jingling glory—comes speeding and barreling over the Family Video counter. The next time he blinks, he’s flat on his back against the floor, a Reebok squished firmly to his cheek, and a knee to his aching crotch. There are black spots in his vision as he stares towards the ceiling.

Then, a wild mane of hair cascading around him like a curtain.

Big Whopper malt ball eyes.

An impish grin.

Yup, he notes blearily, that’s Munson.

“My tapes,” Steve mumbles, a soft sad coo bubbling the words. Sure enough, peeking around Eddie’s vest-broad shoulders, there’s a scattering of cases. Some of the plastic protectors have popped open—the Disney movies—and a couple cardboard shit-boxes now softened on their edges. He sighs, looking back to Eddie. Who, somehow, is closer before.

Within kissing range if he stops to think about it.

Which he won’t.

Not now, at least. Those are late night meandering thoughts when his house is a little too quiet. Not for middle of the day afternoon shifts before he’s had a meager lunch. Especially not then.

“Dude,” Eddie breathes. His breath ghosts over Steve’s face: menthol and…yeah, that’s a Yoo-Hoo. Pulling back, Eddie now straddles Steve’s lap, slapping hands over his shoulders. “Dude dude dude! Hideout’s lettin’ me do a solo show and you, my sweet baby boy, are gonna be front-fucking-row.”

Steve sighs again. “Did you have to charge at me?”

Eddie shrugs. “Eh. You’d be nose deep in that stupid inventory system if I didn’t.”

He wriggles against the floor, trying to free himself from Eddie’s shockingly sturdy thighs—again, he pushes those thoughts to the late night bin. “Get off me,” he lightly demands. “I’m gonna put barbed wire on the counter, swear to God.”

With a dusting and a few grunts, Eddie has righted them, dusting off whatever crap Steve landed in. It takes everything in him to not say anything about the fingers combing through his hair, parting through, checking up close and personal.

“Y’know, Eds, you should get one of those nose rings. Really, uh, finish off your freak flag and show the world who y’really are.”

“You saying I’m a raging bull, Stevie?”

“Mmm”—Steve throws up his hands, weighing them side to side—“yeah, sure, whatever you call a guy who tries to flatten your dick. All you need are the horns and the ring and the…the whole stomping of your feet. Set the stage.”

“Pssh, you probably liked it,” Eddie fires back. “Probably the most action you’ve gotten in eons.”

Steve scoffs, bending down to pick up the videos—Eddie follows him down, crinkling the plastic Disney clamshells closed, setting them on the counter behind him. “Sure, whatever you say Mr. Dusty-Pack-Of-Condoms.”

“Ooo hit ‘em right where it hurts, I see,” Eddie says around a smarmy grin, “you’re feisty when you wanna be. I commend you, Ole King of Yore.”

—————

[asofterepilogue]

I know that penelope saying "don't tell me you're not the same person, you're always my husband" is just supposed to be her saying that all she cares about is that he's odysseus and he loves her (and don't get me wrong it IS incredibly sweet and romantic and it makes me tear up a little)

but considering the first thing odysseus does in the musical is commit war crimes and then he just never stops at all, it tickles me to think that she's also saying he's always been a horrible little monster, she's always known, and she thinks the horrors are part of the fun.

[the-broken-pen]

Hey hey

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

Villians villa is just few kilometres away

Thankfu hero's legs aren't broken

They begin walking

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And oh, god. That hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

And then again, and again, and again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And closed the door behind them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

If they had had the breath to laugh.

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

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

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

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

“How much blood did you lose?”

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

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

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

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

“For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh.

The villain wasn’t angry.

They were afraid. For the hero.

Which didn’t make any sense, because–

I never want to see you again–

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

“I’m not mad at you.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I would have gone anyway.”

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Even though I screamed at you?”

“Yes.”

“And told you I hated you.”

“Villain, please–”

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

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

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

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

“Ruinously,” the villain agreed.

“So you–”

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

The hero’s heart clenched. 

“Really?”

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

“Really.”

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

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

“I’m so sorry.”

The hero sniffed.

“Don’t do it again.”

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

You scared me.

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

I’m sorry.

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

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

The hero had never believed anyone more.

[jittersbitters]

Ive hit 4K and taking a break to eat. Have another Vik x reader smut snippet while I wait for more coffee to brew (its only midnight). On that 2nd cup and my drink isn't the only thing getting steamy.

Part 3 is already being outlined and I'm thinking Heimerdinger's lab or Hoskels house 🤭

Part 1 Here

“In.” His thumb started to stroke between my shoulder blades as his breath fanned the side of my face, voice a low thrum in my ear. My breath hitched as I felt myself gravitate toward him, eyeing him from the corners of my vision. My heart starting to make its nervous ascent up my throat again. “What?” “It’s incautious.” His corrected with a self-satisfied smile, delighting in my surprise as his hand shifted up to thumb at the cord wrapping around my neck to hold up the front of my dress. He played with it, running the finger along the stack, his hand resting at the base of my neck. Holding me gently as he guided me away from the increasingly crowded table, deliberately closing any lingering distance between us as our sides came together. “How do you say…” We were so close he only needed to murmur, “The student becomes the master.” A rush of heat coursed through me, breath hitching in my throat. The cord around my neck felt suddenly too tight, and I weakly pulled with it in search of relief. His thumb slid under the cords in response, relieving some of the pressure from the back. Simultaneously, pulling them into my throat, the contrast made my insides twist and flutter. Did he know just what he was doing? “Viktor—"

I seemed to have devolved in the tags. Read at your own risk teehee

[noxiousgrace]

Cale is a man on a mission to make me cry as much as possible

"The records he had buried in his mind "

B R O

THIS MAN- *unintelligible sobbing and gibberish*

Idc if I'm reading this novel for the 3rd time, it still plays with my heart like it's a GODDAMN BASKETBALL

I'm so happy that he can finally let go of some of his grief 😭 he needs a break

(chap 424 when he cries after talking to lsh for the first time since his death)

[rieamena]

would i be evil if i said i hate that genre of smut that just catapults you straight into the fucking??? like the foreplay before the foreplay is what matters 😕

[kouraissant]

The Sun is dead and love is an unbearable thing (On Yudrein Aile & Grief)

(Above) KOURAISSANT / (Aeschylus: The Oresteia, Aeschylus & The Oresteia: Agamemnon, The Libation Bearers, The Eumenides, Anne Carson) / Things Haunt, Joshua Jennifer Espinoza / Chapter 514, Turning, 쿠유 / Morning in the Burned House, Margaret Atwood / The opposite of a haunting is something very lonely, heavensghost / A Rosario Castellanos Reader:  ‘Memorandum on Tlatelolco’, tr. Maureen Ahern / Sue Zhao / The Song of Achilles, Madeline Miller / The Empress Yamato Hime, tr. Kenneth Rexroth / Spring and All, Cathy Park Hong / UNDER A STAR CALLED SUN / there is no absolution for the fallen, only the dying, p.d / Chapter 1, Turning, 쿠유 / Lesbos (From Ariel), Sylvia Plath

(Below) The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020), dir. Mike Flanagan / 6CHO1

[onesnoopyaday]

It's Charles M. Schulz's 102nd Birthday Today!

Snoopy #56

26/11/2024

Reference image under the cut :)

(source)

Also here is an interview snippet which I thought was interesting. I've never thought much about what his creative process might have been like. Also, I didn't realise that the panels he drew on were so much larger than what ended up in print. I mean, it makes sense, but I guess I always just assumed he drew up the squares exactly the way they looked in the end.

[hedwig221b]

please queen hedwig221b tell ur humble servants when the next twilight installment is due for publishing. i am dying of starvation over here and i think i speak for the other people of ur court.

Let's go with June? Yeah, June, if nothing horrible happens.

I am happy to announce that after months of writer's drought, I have a lot of inspo for New Moon. I am writing nearly every day now, and I feel like it's gonna be big. Literally plotting like this:

I am incredibly locked in. It's all I think about. Doing everything to write it so you would grip the edge of your seat as you read

[lizardkingeliot]

the moment i allowed myself to think "could this rockstar lestat/photographer louis fic be a multi-chapter thing tho" i doomed myself to it not only absolutely being a multi-chapter thing, but one of those multi-chapter things that starts exploding in my head to the point i need a notes doc to keep track of the vibes and the yearning and the scenes that force their way into my head while i'm just trying to live my life and do my lil tasks...

[quadrantadvisor]

This post reminded me of the time I got entranced by the idea of in-universe rpf and wrote an "excerpt" of a hypothetical accidental selfcest fanfic.

The Lore tm is that in a universe where Bernard never met Tim, he became a prolific Capes RPF writer as well as conspiracy theorist, and that the popularity of the Bruce Wayne/Batman ship gave him the fun idea of pairing up the Wayne kids with Batclan counterparts, which lined up surprisingly well! Tim, who frequents the Gotham Capes RPF tag for normal reasons (as a kid he wrote a surpisingly popular series of gen fics where his self insert oc got adopted by Batman, he was like 11 don't judge him) sees this fic and finds certain details, such as, y'know, shipping his family members with themselves, highly suspicious. He must investigate this person and find out how much they know.

-

[...]

“What are you doing here, Nightwing?” Officer Grayson sighed. He looked tired, the hero noted. He understood that. A city like this could make a man tired in his soul. “The case is over. There's no reason to see eachother anymore.”

It didn't take long for Nightwing to find a reason. “There's no Batman in Bludhaven,” he said. “I need to take allies where I can get them, and you… I think you're in the same boat.” He remembered the photos of young, pretty Richie Grayson, smiling in the tabloids,  and thought about how the force could beat down someone like that. “I know you want to make Bludhaven a better place. We can keep helping eachother, working together. We need eachother.” That was all true. But none of it was why Nightwing had come to the officer's apartment balcony.

Grayson rubbed a hand over his face. “I don't think you understand how much trouble I could be in. If the other officers found out I was slipping information to a vigilante…” He frowned, the dark circles beneath his eyes even more pronounced with the expression. “They don't trust you.”

“Do you?” Nightwing couldn't help but ask.

Grayson clenched his jaw, and his gaze on Nightwing became piercing. Looking at him, the vigilante knew—he had been beaten down, but not broken. His free spirit compressed into something stronger, harder. There was fire in his eyes. “I don't know,” the officer said, “should I?”

In some ways, the display of dominance was adorable, and Nightwing couldn't help flashing his signature sharp grin. “You can,” he promised. “It's up to you. But I could show you.” He hopped onto the balcony's railing with his inhuman grace, and held out his hand. “If you put your trust in me, I'll make it worth your while.”

The man looked dubious, gaze flicking from Nightwing's shielded eyes to his outstretched hand. “How?”

“You used to be an acrobat, didn't you, officer?” the hero asked.

Grayson looked away. “That was a long time ago.’”

“Well,” said Nightwing, still grinning that wicked grin, teeth flashing in the dim light, “how would you like to really fly?”

The officer's eyes went wide, and for a moment, Nightwing worried he would close the door, shut him out, and it would all be over. Then a determined look swept over him, and he stepped forward, reaching out.

Grayson's hand slipped into his, and Nightwing took the leap.

[...]

End notes:

😭 why did you have to become a cop richie how am i meant to acab like this????

like yes cops are Bastard but like. Richie Grayson was an outlier and should not have been counted. he's perfect your honor. he's never done anything wrong in his whole life. no one tell me otherwise pls

also nightwing is some kind of fae creature but don't worry about that

[jessicas-pi]

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

Protector!Sabine AU?

OR

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Riiiight."

---

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[The Lasat looks irate.]

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

[Video cuts to black.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Hey, are you dating the captain?

-No comment.

[Video cuts to black.]

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

little snippet from the fic … we are making it boys

[renatogpadilla]

On Who Made Us Who We Are...

Jinx hated to say it, but the hug had worked wonders.

It was a funny feeling, hugging Lux. Like being put in a very soft, very caring slow-cook oven. She warmed up with every second, to the point where Jinx thought she would have gotten burnt if she hadn't pulled away after a while. It's not like she was mad at her for eavesdropping. That was on her! She had been a little later than usual and Jinx took that as a sign to get depressed...

But boy, was she glad Lux had gotten to her. She thought (a little hesitantly, but she thought it nonetheless) that she really missed having a friend to talk to. Back in Zaun, she'd never really had anyone to talk to since she was a child. Silco had tried his best, and he'd been as good a father figure as she could have asked for! But that was so different to having a friend your age. Sevika was... Sevika, and Isha... Well. Isha had been Isha.

Happy, joyful, perfect little Isha.

Cut it out. You'll cry again.

She pushed the thought out of her mind.

Since the night of their big hug, Lux had gotten a little bit more familiar with Jinx's little hut. She came over after a long day of work and sprawled on the couch (which Jinx had joked wasn't very ladylike of her and Lux had replied by flashing her hand at her and making her eyes wince) and just ranted about her day to her... And Jinx had gotten more used to her. She was beginning to understand that what had started as nothing more than unhinged curiosity had become a genuine friendship. She was a bit weary of that still (everything she grew to love exploded at some point, after all) but she decided to be a little less cagey towards Lux. She'd trust her word. She'd give her a chance. She had earned that. Maybe she'd even let her in on Pow-Pow and Fishbones, if she proved trustworthy... But that was still some ways away.

Lux, got to Isha's hut a little earlier than usual and caught her making tea. After the night of their hug, she had seen Isha far less jumpy around her and couldn't help but feel accomplished and proud that she'd managed to help her friend. It felt good to be able to be herself and it helping someone out...

She pushed the door open (Isha really should invest in a lock, she thought) and spoke In a small sing-song voice, as she'd started doing whenever she'd had a particularly good day... Though maybe that was more for Isha than for herself today. Work hadn't been exactly pleasant.

"Hello, Isha!" She tried not to sound too cheerful, she really did! But coming here made her so happy... Made her feel safe. The irony of feeling safer in a hut in the woods with a crackpot wannabe "witch" than in a fortress city with her knights and guards and her walking tank of a brother was not lost on her, and it made her giggle on occasion, to herself. She flopped on the couch.

"Hey, Flashlight. You're early!" Isha replied. She seemed in a good mood! "I was thinking today we could try something different to just blasting things. You can aim now, sure, but just how far do those powers go? Is it just light blasts or can you do more with that? And how can it burn if it can't touch things? Can it touch things? These are the questions I have decided we'll try to-"

Lux wasn't listening. She was just... Sprawled out on the couch, disassociating. That wasn't like Lux. Ugh, fine! She'd ask!

"How was your day? You seem a little dim, and I don't mean your powers." Isha draped herself on the spine of the couch and looked at her friend.

Hoo, boy, where to start...

"Have I ever told you what I do, Isha?"

Actually, she hadn't. Jinx had some idea. She knew Lux had a brother who hunted Mages and she knew that Lux's family were guardians of the Royal Family... But other than that, she just though her friend's job was 'Be in a castle and look like a fancy painting for most of the day until someone needs something decreed' or something shmancy like that.

"Nope. You never said." She passed her a cup of tea. "Why? Are you secretly an evil mastermind and forgot to tell me?"

Lux actually laughed at that. "Well, no. But... Well, it does come into play a bit. An evil mastermind."

"Oh?" She did that thing she thought others didn't notice where she tilted her head like a puppy when she was curious about something.

Lux noticed. She found it adorable.

"Have you heard about the state of the kingdom lately...?" Ooh, she sounded nervous.

"I don't get a lot of news coverage here in the woods... Kinda like it like that." That way, I don't have to see the day my face shows up on a screen and I have to dip again. "Why? Some evil criminal on the loose or something?"

Lux's smile dropped. That was a strange sight for Jinx. Like that wasn't supposed to happen, just... in general.

"I... I can confide in you, right, Ish?" Lux's voice was so soft Jinx barely felt it. Also, 'Ish'? Damn, she was being vulnerable. That wasn't her strong suit at all. "You won't tell anyone, right? Like, I know you already know I'm a Mage, but this is... arguably worse."

Oh, now she HAD to know.

The not-a-witch nodded her head, and Lux took a deep breath.

"Over the last few weeks... Maybe months, I can't tell anymore, there has been a rebellion brewing."

Jinx felt herself grow tense. One day, she'd pop up somewhere where a rebellion wasn't brewing, but it seemed like that was not gonna be today... At least she wasn't at the center of this one, this time.

"Before I met you... I..." Lux was struggling to get the words out. "I wanted answers. I wanted to know who I was and not have to hide my powers. When my brother got accepted into the guard, we were made nobles. And that meant that now I had some power to go with my name... I may have abused it a little."

"I am absolutely enraptured by this tale." Isha told her, still laying on the spine of the couch, but now showing Lux her full attention.

"Yes... Enraptured. So was I." Might as well rip the band-aid off. "Well, as you can imagine, I used my new political power to... Get into places I shouldn't have. One of them being a prison."

Jinx shouldn't have admired that... But she did. Now they had something else in common!

"It was there that I realized what had been done to the Mages that my brother and his people caught..." She continued. "Isha, it was horrible. Forced to live in cages, made to drink this horrible potion that could take their powers at best and... Outright kill them at worse. I saw people whose only crime had been being born different get slowly, legally murdered under our noses. And nobody thinks it's wrong! Nobody saw how cruel it was to deprive someone of freedom, of life, just for being themselves!"

Jinx saw Lux's fists clutch and realized how deeply personal this was to her. The day her brother slipped... Hell, the day she slipped or even if Jinx herself ended up spilling the beans, Lux now knew exactly where she would end up. In a hole. Alone. Dimmed forever... That would NOT happen while Jinx was around.

"As I explored the prison... I eventually came across a door. One the guards pretended wasn't there." She had to get done telling this story. "So I went up, waved my name around. And through it I met someone... I met him."

Jinx couldn't tell what was there in that last weird cocktail of a tone... Was that venom? Hatred?

Yearning...? Oh, Gods, Lux you didn't...

"He was a fellow Mage." Lux continued, and Jinx was genuinely, completely and utterly entranced in her story. "His name is Sylas. And he was one of the few prisoners who had survived since childhood inside the prison. He was chained to the ground, malnourished. Like, there was still muscle there, but the kind of muscle you get when you can't eat anything other than scraps for years and you need a hobby to keep you from choking yourself with your chains... But he could still talk."

Every word that came out of Lux's mouth felt like drinking Petricide... Suffocating.

"He said the most harrowing things, but he sounded so... Pained. So done with life that there was nothing to keep him tethered other than maybe seeing the sun again... I pitied him. I felt for him. So I talked to him. Told him what the city looked like now. He seemed to miss it, at the time. He recounted what it looked like when he was young with such joy... And he suddenly felt less like a malnourished prisoner and more like... Like a friend... Like... Like... Oh, Isha. He said the sweetest things."

"This story's going to end horribly wrong, isn't it?" Jinx couldn't help herself. She heard the strain in Lux's voice.

"I trust you not to judge me for what happened next."

"I won't." How could she?

"I kept visiting him... Seeing him in his cell, day after day, whenever I could spare the time. And whether it was because of the way I spoke, or the things I said, or maybe because he was a Mage too, he ended up discovering what I was. And he made me feel so..."

"Validated? Like you were perfect, just the way you were..."

"Yes... I can look back on it now and see the signs, but back then I was too ecstatic to notice who he really was... And I grew to like him... I- I think I grew to love him. Genuinely. I'd never felt that way for someone before and it was... Liberating and just... For lack of a better word, it was magical. For as little as it lasted. We only saw each other through the cell. I didn't know better... I didn't know better."

"Luxanna..."

"I should have known better."

They stayed in silence for a little while... Jinx could tell her friend was suppressing tears. She was being braver than her opening up like this... So much braver.

"If you don't want to keep talking, I understand." Isha saw her pain, bless her heart.

"I need to get it out." Lux said, breathing in sharp. "Please."

Isha simply nodded. Lux mouthed a 'thank you' at her. She reached out and took Isha's hand.

"You know how I said he was a Mage too? Well, as it turns out, a bunch of Mages have a bunch of different flavors of magic. His involves stealing magic from others. We touched, once, through the bars, and he took my glow. Used my power to break himself out and took every other Mage in the prison with him... Killed so many people with the same chains that kept him locked away... He even tried to get me to join him." And if my life had been different, maybe I would have... "The worst part is, that the care he had for me feels genuine, Ish... But to him, the fight comes first, and he will put me and everyone that stands in his way in the ground for the sake of his Great Mage Rebellion."

"Glorious Revolution, huh?" Jinx had heard of that before. A while back, before everything after Silco's death, she probably would have admired Sylas's efforts. Not now. No matter how righteous his cause.

He hurt Lux, so now he dies.

"And now he's out there, and not only does he know my secret, but the image he's painted of Mages has all but destroyed any chance of peaceful resolution... He kills so many of my brother's men every time he shows up and now my job implies hunting him down and it is just the most stressful thing in the world... And I know it's my fault! Some days, I don't know how I even get out of bed."

Jinx knew that feeling all too well. She squeezed her hand. They left a little while pass... Lux got some sobs out and Jinx listened. No sarcastic comments, no jokes. She just held her friend's hand and let her get it out.

"Thank you for that." Lux said, wiping her tears. "I... I needed someone to know."

"And now I do. I can tell that stings for you... Lux, if it's your whole job to stop him, you know you can't hesitate if the chance comes to-"

"I know."

Jinx hated herself from having to ask, but she'd been there too, once, and she knew where it was going.

"Do you still love him?"

Lux barely let her finish.

"No. Not anymore. I mourn what could have been, what I thought could have been, yes. But I won't waste another heartbeat for that bastard if he dares show his face. I've learned my lesson. No matter how sweet he talked, he's still a deranged, insane, grandstanding-obsessed, irredeemable psychopathic murderer who will stop at nothing, at no one, to bring our society down. Demacia has made horrible mistakes, it's true. I won't say there isn't a lot of work to be done, but this is not how you do it. Don't worry, Isha. Mage rights are one thing. But the actual monsters? The ones that give us all a bad name? I am done loving criminal scum."

Well, thought Jinx as she physically bit her tongue, now I sure as shit ain't telling her about that...

Lux sat up and pressed her head against Isha's shoulder. "Today has been a lot. Zanks for 'aving me here, friend."

Wait, what the fuck?

"Was that an accent?"

Lux hadn't noticed it slipped this time. She must have gotten more comfortable than she thought...

"Yes, it is." And she wasn't hiding it anymore. She figured if Isha could know about Sylas, she could know what Lux really sounded like. "It's a whole thing. Noble stuff. We usually hide it since we're not royals, but we all speak like that."

"You sound like you're gargling!" Jinx found it sweet. She laughed. Genuinely! Her friend looked like a meerkat and sounded like a pelican. She loved it!

Lux just stared. She's laughing. Oh, Gods, Isha's laughing! She'd never heard her laugh before! It was so heartfelt she almost started tearing up again. But instead she laughed along. Just the two of them, laughing about how dumb Demacian sounded in a hut in the middle of the woods.

Lux could have lived in this moment for a few days... It would have been nice.

"It's not that bad if you speak the language." She pushed out between chuckles.

"Oh yeah? Now I GOTTA hear this! Go on! Say something in Demacian, please!" Isha pushed back.

"Um... Que veux-tu que je dise?" She asked between chuckles.

Isha stopped laughing almost immediately.

"Wait, say that again?"

Lux repeated herself.

"Holy shit, it was Demacian." Isha exclaimed. Now her eyes were huge!

"You've heard it before?"

"I mean I don't... Understand it, but it makes sense he would-" Isha stopped herself. Right. Personal stuff.

Lux had promised she wouldn't pry so she just put her hands up, but Isha went on.

"When I was a kid..." Jinx started, sitting on the couch properly next to Lux. "There was this... Bar. I... Lived in it. And in that bar there was a jukebox that played these old records my-" Oh, this was bringing her back... With all its flavors. "My Dad had lying around. He wasn't my real dad, but he raised me and my sister, so he was our dad."

"You have a sister?" Lux couldn't stop herself. Isha lore? Given willingly?! Gimme gimme gimme!!!

"Yeah. She's a tough one. Nothing like me. She's... Heh. She's a cop. Overbearing and rough. Her answer to every problem is 'punch it!' and if that doesn't work, 'punch it harder', you know?"

"Oh, Gods, don't let her meet Garen! They would either become best friends or kill each other!"

"Oh, that second one I would pay to see!" Miss you, Vi. Really do. "Anyway, we were practically raised in a bar, and our dad's friend Benzo sometimes brought little trinkets around to spruce the place up, and on one occasion he brought an old record. It had this just absolute banger of a club ballad on it! But I never understood it... Because it was in Demacian! I never really danced to it, but my friend Ekko LOVED it! He's a bit more serious now, I think, but I bet he still sways to it on occasion... Anyways, your accent just took me back, that's all."

Lux was hanging on every word. Isha had a sister. She had grown up in a bar! She'd had a friend that- Wait a minute. If nobody reached her in the woods...

"If you don't ever leave the hut... Then, how do you know he's so serious?" Lux tried to sound playful, but she was so curious...!

And then she noticed. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed before! It was right in front of her face the whole time!

That hoodie was way too big to be Isha's. The way she held it the night they hugged... The way she played with the rim right now! Her mind was racing. Oh, please let me be right...

Isha must have noticed that she noticed. She immediately broke eye contact, and she got this big smile on her face... Lux noticed she was blushing. She was flustered! Isha! Flustered!

"I didn't judge you, okay...? So..." Jinx was smiling too much at the memory of that last night in Zaun before the big fight... Before leaving. She tugged the hoodie closer. "Yeah... He was a childhood friend, but... Well, he's this boy I like, too."

Meerkat. IMMEDIATELY.

It was like nothing in the world existed other than Jinx in Lux eyes in that moment. She grabbed both her hands and got a big, dopey smile on her face.

"Mon ami," she said, and she was glowing in a way Jinx hadn't seen before. She wasn't even trying to hide her excitement! "Tell me EVERYTHING!"

"Woah, Flashlight, slow down!" She was kinda enjoying this, though... She never really had the chance for 'girl talk' with her sister growing up. Boy, would THAT be awkward now! But this was too quick... "We're not- Sorry. I'm not there yet. I appreciate the interest though."

"Aw, come on! It can't possibly be worse than my terrorist ex!" That was probably the most casually she would ever refer to Sylas in her life. "But I understand. When you're ready. Then I'll hear all about your boy!"

Jinx gave her a hug and stayed there for a bit. Mostly to hide how wide she was grinning.

"For what it's worth," she said, without a hint of sarcasm, "you're already getting close..."